The Elite ✓

seventeen | roots

"Pragmatic and important counsel on each part of present-day behavior, both regal and regular. While essential habits in the scope of circumstances provide both formal and casual events, it is important to not be swayed by the Royal flush. "  

illéan royal etiquette booklet

*

Halloween does not truly begin until the entire palace is decorated from ground up with loose orange streamers, carved pumpkins used as miniature lanterns, and a taste of natural authenticity. The night sky, a dreary dull filled with whispers and echoes.

The curtains are draped backwards, tables in golden orange accentuated by the rich black cutlery, serviette's molded into eccentric shapes of doom. The corridors are framed with orange dahlia's, a mid-summer bloom with a pop of vibrancy lighting up Royal's path. 

The lights; Part fluorescent, part fairy, dimmed to taste, blend into the atmosphere as the guests sway to the bass boosted gory-remix of Taylor Swift's latest single, and finally, the Royal family will descend the staircase in a hierarchical manner, the lights reflecting on their crowns and tiaras, and then it begins: the First Dance.

Spirits will be lifted, and the weight of the competition will be released like the negative energy fluctuating. But not this year. A surprise holds our spirits in a cage, fearing for our tomorrow. We are unsure, and the characteristic of ignorance tearing our minds apart.

*

thirty-five hours earlier

I wake up on Thursday morning, panting. I fear that it's another migraine, but I'm mistaken. It turns out, I'm quite alright, and I convince myself of it until there is no longer a question in my mind.

Of course, I'm awake earlier than usual especially when the noise from the hustle and bustle occurring outside is more than enough to crack up a storm, and so, I help myself to a bath. It's almost arousing, the sensation of lathering myself in vanilla essence, and even more when I use up the last droplet from the bottle. My skin is starting to prune so I decide against my better instincts of relaxation and begin to dry myself off.

My maids were most likely preparing for the Halloween celebration, and have been for the last few days, which meant that I shouldn't be expecting them for another hour and a half, which is enough time for me to get ready on my own.

Once again, I've got to put more effort into my entrance than usual because of the cameras refusal to leave. They're most likely going to stay for the next two days as well, given that THE DAILY ILLEA always prefers to be that much more extravagant.

My body is dry, and I'm already suited up in a robe when I decide it's time to blowdry my hair. Today is not the day for me to have a bad hair day on camera. I'm in-between customizing which complete outfit is red carpet ready when someone knocks on my door.  It's Lucas.

I only let him in because my hair is too embarrassing for the cameras to have a glimpse long enough to take a shot, and I'm covered up decently. "How're you." He says, walking straight to the back of the room and facing the wall. "I'm not looking, I'm not looking."

"Oh, relax. I'm dressed. Let me dry my hair though." I chuckle at his aghast reaction and continue to laugh as I weave my way through the newly placed Halloween decorations. Lucas scoffs when my continuous laughter refuses to stop, and even echoes through the closed bathroom door.

"Bully."

"Am not!" I yell back, halfway through drying my hair. In fact, with the level of noise I'm making, I'm pretty sure the whole palace can hear my laugh over the sound of the hairdryer, which only feeds my undying sensation to continue. I do like the feeling. You know, letting loose. I always thought of, and pretty much used the palace as a reason to escape, but what happens when I get bored with this place too? It comes straight out of a fairytale, but it's a bind with no exit.

What happens if I'm in this life for the long run, but itching to leave it all behind. 

Just like Will when we first met on the outskirts of a poor town in Carolina. I once couldn't understand why. Why he'd leave the decked halls, crowned reigns, tower of light. He needed an escape and so did I. And that, that was the how I knew he and I were going to get along indefinitely. We were two people of the same heart, coming from polar opposite worlds.

"Yeah, sure." He jeers, "Bully." 

I poke my head out the door enough so that he can see my face when I stick my tongue out at him. Childish games were always my forte.

No more noise is made until fifteen minutes later when my maids enter. Chauntelle is the first through my door, followed by the other two, but I'm just about done with everything, so they push me out the door in a joking manner.

The cameras are all ready.

Hastily, I join the other girls in a tiny queue we've formed and altogether, we turn to follow a domineering Sylvia to the Great Hall. She's got two assistants chirping the news in her ear, while she checks off items on her clipboard. I've never seen her so preoccupied.

Sylvia and her assistants all refuse to make a statement for the cameras, calling them out as a 'nuisance'. So,  as The Daily Illea, it was almost fitting that they ignore all insults and made a beeline for us, The Selected.

"Hands off the girls or I'll see to it you are personally thrown off palace grounds." Sylvia roared, and I watched with awe and a ton of happiness as each reporter took a step back, allowing us to continue our rounds. "Orders from the King specifically stated that you record the girls in their natural locality, not go parading around palace grounds harassing them."

Eventually, we're all collated in near the front door and we're all giving each other uneasy looks. Suddenly, I see the palace gates opening and a limousine enter. A blonde head of perfectly styled hair, only a few years older than I am descends the car. My forever root.

"Sel," I run up to her and instantly break down into tears, "Selina, wow."

"It's been ages, sis. I missed you, Holly."