Labeled (A The Selection Fanfiction)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Important author's note at the end! Please read :) Remember to vote, comment, and follow!

----

Clarissa's POV:

After being dragged back to my cell, painfully, my guards told me not to sleep. Your Mother has a surprise for you, and we wouldn't want to sleep only to be awakened so soon, would we? They snickered, and laughed at me.

Everything feels dull. Dull, and unreal. It still baffles me that my Mother is the leader of a group of people that have injured and killed so many.

Although, when I think about it, there were a few hints. Her enthusiasm and obsessiveness over having the Royal's trust, her red choker, and her power hungry ego.

I think about myself, wondering how much of that she gave to me. Her temper, that's for sure. Her lack of patience, her ambition. Physically, her auburn hair and height.

My Dad, though, gave me the ability to stay grounded. The ability to not be swept up in glamour, lights and cameras always flashing, and anything one could ever want at their fingertips. He gave me calmness when I really need it, something to battle with my fiery temper. And, as I grew up, he gifted me with love and affection. My Dad, I knew, and know, that I can trust with anything.

I let my mind wander, thinking about arbitrary things. I wonder what Alexander's doing, and what time it is. Has he woken up yet? Does he know we are missing? If so, does he miss me? Has he thought of me? Questions buzz around in my mind.

I take a deep breath, again preparing myself for whatever waits for me. I let my temper fuel my strength, inwardly thanking my Mother for that. Whatever is coming next, I can face it, beat it, and win.

§§§§§

Alexander's POV:

I'm only half awake as my sister jumps on my bed, causing my mattress to shift beneath me. I groan, but am still pleased by her affectionate and energetic actions.

Sometimes, it feels like she is the only one in the Palace who is genuinely happy.

"Gill, why?" I ask her, already knowing the answer.

She takes a deep breath, and shakes her head at me accusingly. "You know why, Xander." I laugh a little at her nickname for me, then look at her with wide eyes. "Do I need to say it again?" She asks pleadingly.

"Yup." She grins at me, so accustomed to our morning routine that she could perform it for anyone as a solo act.

"You have fifteen beautiful girls waiting for you, and you need to go to breakfast so they don't worry! Their hearts might be broken, and- get out of bed!" She is a hopeless romantic, much like myself on the inside.

I laugh, stepping out of bed in my black silk pajamas. I look around my room as the morning light bathes the dark floors and starch white walls adorned with photos of me and my family and friends.

My dark blue covers are tangled, thrown everywhere on my bed from my sister's jumping. I point to the door, and as she is still in her nightgown, tell her, "You have to get ready too! Go!"

She laughs, and walks over to me, hugging me quickly before walking out the door. "Alright, older brother."

In the mornings, and every normal day, I choose to pick out my clothes and get ready on my own, without my maids. For special occasions, however, I have my maids help me.

Humming the song Clarissa loved so much last night under my breath, I smile widely as I remember her surety in our relationship. I love her, I just don't know if she quite believes it yet. But last night, she did. Last night, everything was perfect.