The Crowns Choice

❦ Chapter Six: Atlas ❦

I looked up in shock as I heard my name called on the TV, my heart thudding in my chest. "Atlas Everheart," the princess announced, her voice calm and regal, like she wasn't just casually changing my entire life.

Lyla, my little sister, was jumping up and down on the couch, her excitement bubbling over like a soda can that had been shaken too much. "Atlas, Atlas! That's you! You're going to the palace!" she squealed, her wide eyes glued to the screen.

My mum, who had been knitting quietly beside me, paused mid-stitch, her fingers tightening around the yarn. She looked at me, her expression a mix of pride and concern, the kind of look that makes your stomach twist in knots.

The dog, a scruffy little mutt named Daisy, danced around my feet, picking up on the sudden shift in energy. Her tail wagged furiously, and she barked in her usual way, oblivious to the gravity of the moment.

This was it, I thought, staring at the screen as the camera panned to the princess, her smile as fake as the whole damn Selection. I've been put in as a joke, compared to the other guys—I'm just a low Five.

I barely noticed the rest of the names being called. My mind was too busy reeling, trying to process what this meant. The other contestants flashed on the screen—rich, polished guys from higher Strata, all of them with the kind of perfect lives that were nothing like mine. Alexander Hawthorne, Everett Sinclair, Gideon Price...names that sounded like they belonged in history books, not alongside mine.

"Atlas, are you okay?" Lyla's voice cut through my thoughts, her small hand tugging at my sleeve.

I blinked, trying to shake off the shock. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I mumbled, though my voice didn't sound convincing even to myself.

Mum set down her knitting, the needles clicking softly as they hit the table. "This is an opportunity, Atlas," she said quietly, her voice steady but filled with something deeper. "You might not have asked for it, but you can't ignore what it could mean for us."

I knew what she meant. Opportunities like this didn't come around for people like us, not in a world where the Strata defined your worth. I'd spent my whole life fighting against that system, trying to scrape together enough to keep us afloat. And now, out of nowhere, I was being handed a chance to change everything. But at what cost?

The idea of going to the palace, of being part of this ridiculous Selection, felt like a sick joke. I was a low Five, a nobody compared to the rest of those guys. What did I have to offer a princess? I wasn't charming or rich or well-connected. I was just a guy trying to make it through each day without falling apart.

"Do you think it's real? That they didn't just, I don't know, put my name in to make a point?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I didn't want to believe it, because believing it meant I had to deal with the reality of it.

Mum shook her head. "I don't think they would do that. This is a big deal, Atlas. They wouldn't risk The Crown's Choice on a joke."

Lyla bounced on the couch, her excitement undimmed. "You're going to meet the princess! And live in the palace! And maybe even marry her!" she chatted, her imagination running wild.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," I said, holding up my hands. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm not marrying anyone."

"But you have to go, right?" she asked, her eyes wide and earnest. "You can't just say no."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. She was right, of course. Saying no wasn't an option. I had to go, whether I wanted to or not. The invitation wasn't just for me; it was a summons. The kind you couldn't refuse.

"Yeah, I have to go," I admitted, the weight of the decision settling on my shoulders like a heavy cloak. "But don't get your hopes up, Lyla. I'm not gonna be some fairy-tale prince."

Mum stood up, crossing the small living room to put a hand on my shoulder. "You're a good man, Atlas. That's worth more than all the titles and wealth in the world."

Her words were meant to comfort, but they just made me feel even more out of place. I didn't belong in that world, and deep down, I was terrified of what would happen when they realised it too.

I glanced back at the TV, where the broadcast was wrapping up. The princess was smiling for the cameras, her perfect face lit up by the studio lights. I wondered what she was really thinking, if she was just as trapped in this as I was.

Lyla's voice broke through my thoughts again. "When do you have to go?"

"I'm not sure," I replied, trying to remember what the invitation had said. "Soon, though. Probably within the week."

"That's so soon!" she gasped, her excitement tinged with a hint of worry now.

"I'll be fine," I assured her, even though I wasn't sure I believed it. "It's just for a few weeks, and then I'll be back."

Mum's grip on my shoulder tightened, just for a moment, before she let go. "We'll manage," she said softly, but I could hear the unspoken fears in her voice. We'd managed for so long, just the three of us. What would happen if things changed?

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Mum made dinner, but I barely tasted it. Lyla chatted about the palace and what she imagined it would be like, and I just nodded along, trying to keep up with her excitement. But my mind was elsewhere, stuck on the reality of what was coming.

Later, after Lyla had gone to bed and the house was quiet, I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the application form in front of me. I hadn't filled out anything yet, the blank spaces taunting me with their emptiness.

What was I supposed to write? What could I possibly say that would make me stand out, that would make me worth choosing?

I picked up the pen, tapping it against the table as I tried to think of something—anything—that would sound halfway decent. But the words wouldn't come. I wasn't like the other contestants. I didn't have a list of accomplishments or a prestigious family background. I was just a guy from Stratum Five, scraping by on odd jobs and determination.

I skipped the first question and moved on to the next, but it was no use. Every question felt like a trap, like it was designed to highlight everything I wasn't.

I set the pen down with a frustrated sigh, rubbing my temples. This wasn't going to work. I wasn't cut out for this.

The sound of the front door creaking open made me look up. Mum walked in, her expression tired but still holding that same determined edge she always had. She sat down across from me, her eyes softening as she saw the form in front of me.

"Struggling with the questions?" she asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah," I admitted, leaning back in my chair. "It's like they want me to prove I'm something I'm not."

She nodded, understanding. "You don't have to prove anything, Atlas. Just be yourself. That's enough."

"But what if it's not?" I asked, the fear I'd been trying to suppress finally breaking through. "What if they expect more?"

She reached across the table, taking my hand in hers. "They chose you for a reason, Atlas. Maybe you don't see it, but they did. And whatever happens, we'll be here when you come back."

Her words eased some of the tension in my chest, but the doubts still lingered. I nodded, squeezing her hand before letting go. "Thanks, Mum. I just... I hope this isn't a mistake."

"It's not," she said firmly, the conviction in her voice giving me a small spark of hope.

After she went to bed, I stayed up late, staring at the form until my eyes burned. Eventually, I filled it out, the answers short and simple. There was no point in pretending to be someone I wasn't.

When I finally finished, I folded it up and tucked it into the envelope, sealing it with a sense of finality. This was it. No turning back now.

As I climbed into bed that night, I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled over me. Tomorrow, everything will change. I was leaving the world I knew, stepping into something completely unknown.

And the scariest part was, I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to come back to the same person.