Butterfly Under Glass [The Selection/Keadlyn]

Butterfly Under Glass [The Selection fanfiction/Keadlyn]

My father begins the address with somber words about the riots. It's the worst riot we've seen. The area is still not safe. Small fires keep breaking out and looting is still rampant. Dad urges them to settle down and work peacefully toward change. I recognize phrases from earlier speeches he has made. His ideas are tired and the people are tired of listening to him. None of us believe him anymore.

As I examine his appearance more fully, I notice a wan dullness that I have not seen before. I cast my eyes around for Mom. She is always visible during his addresses, somewhere in the background. I asked her once if she minded always being behind him. She told me she loved to be seen as his supportive, proud wife. Then she added that she was always a tad grateful it wasn't her behind the podium, because public speaking always gives her a wobbly stomach and nerves for hours. You could never guess that by watching her. Mom has a confidence about her that goes beyond clothes and hair and make-up. She exudes a warmth that the nation adores.

No wonder Dad picked her. They have absolutely no doubt that they were meant to be. Which must be why even Mom thought I would find real love in the Selection. It worked for her. Why not me?

I'm not as lovable. I'm cold. Selfish. But...I. Can. Change.

I can be more like Mom, starting now. Except, where is she? I don't see her anywhere. She told me that she was ready to get back to normal appearances. I would have been notified if she had a setback with her heart.

Without conscious thought, my gaze drifts to the Selection boys. There he is. His tie is the same awful one I thought I confiscated from him. How did he get that back? It's hideous! And it sets new levels of hideous when paired with that shirt. It's like he is trying to look awful.

As if he can feel my thoughts, he turns to me. His face is full of open hope. I close my eyes for a brief second. Why is it so hard to let him go?

Maybe because he is the only thing I have ever wanted for myself, not as a future queen, ruler, and public figure. But as me, Eadlyn.

But like my father, I am not just me and I can never be. I am Illea's leader and I will choose my country over my heart.

Swiveling my head to face my father, I force myself to tune into his finishing remarks.

I notice again that this speech is old. I've heard variations of it on many occasions. But for the first time I notice something missing. Something that should be there--but never has been.

Dad doesn't say how they can peacefully promote change. He has no action points. No way for them to be safely heard. So they resort to violence. His lack of proactive directions fuels my own desire to be bold in my forthcoming address.

I am expected to report on my dates, or eliminate another fellow.

They are used to me being interesting to look at, with my original clothing designs and what has been called my austere beauty. I probably gave them some chuckles when I haughtily eliminated the boys at the start, plucking them off like they had no feelings. Somehow I've changed since that taping. Now I am the one having my heart strings plucked as I try to sensitively navigate through this impossible selection.

Dad wraps up. Gavril introduces me with a flourish, speculating on why I would call another taping so soon after yesterday's mass elimination. Light, exciting music plays. My cue.

It is my turn to speak to the people. Illea, my country, the land freed from the castes by my father. The same country who labelled me as cold, snobby, and much worse. The ones who broke into my home and stole my things and threatened my ascension. The ones who planted a spy in my own room to do my hair and nails and report every weakness back to them.