Dear Juliet (Chosen Sequel) (The Selection Fanfic)

Six.

I could've sworn that I heard the boys even before they entered the palace; they had immense voices. I heard muffled gasps and juxtaposing bellows of excitement. I didn't blame them, the palace was beautiful.

I wasn't supposed to meet any of the selected until our official meet and greets tomorrow after breakfast but I couldn't resist taking a peak at the men whom I'd learn to share my home with.

Darting my eyes around the vast room I observed the thirty odd men who would grow accustomed to palace life. They were being groomed and dressed all over the room, the quicker candidates loitering by the set prepped for the photoshoot. I stifled a giggle from behind the column I was hidden behind laughing at the men's faces as the palace staff attempted to put makeup on them.

My heart lurched twice as my gaze travelled the circumference of the room. It lurched first when I caught sight of a Mr Oliver Bell, a name so vivid in my mind when I saw his resemblance to Harry. It lurched again, and probably more so, when Liam came into view. He looked completely out of place amongst the other men as he chattered away to the staff around him, whom were presumably his close friends. A pang of jealously hit me when I caught sight of him laughing ferociously with one of the female maids. I shook that thought away, who was I to be envious when I had thirty four other men who wanted my heart. Or my crown, I thought to myself.

I turned away from the men bringing a blank white wall into my view. What if none of them actually wanted me? I had a sudden gnawing fear that my potential lovers weren't lovers at all, instead scavengers fooling me with their chivalry only to obtain my crown.

No. I could not afford to think like that.

At least Liam would've wanted my heart. Stop. He tricked you. He cheated his way into the Selection to what, gain the crown? Oh god, what if it was all a charade and he too was only after the crown and not me?

I held my hand to my chest pushing the negative thoughts away in attempt to control my breaths. I pulled my asthma pump from my jean pockets (it was a Saturday, give me a break from all the prissy dresses) and pushed it into my mouth. I really needed to get a hold of this breathless problem I had every time I thought about Li-, him.

"You alright there miss?"

I turned immediately only to be forced to look up towards the mouth that spoke those words. He was tall, and handsome once I looked at his features closer. He was dressed in the generic grey suit we dressed all of the selected in and wore his own tie, which by the looks of it had some sort of stain on it already.

"I'm very well thank you, but your tie looks like it has seen better days," I replied with a small laugh careful not to attract anymore attention. Luckily everyone else were too absorbed by the makeovers.

"Ah yes, this is paint, I was working on something before I left and it appears I got some on my tie."

Alfie Redrow. That was his name, I had spent days after that report studying the applications in attempt to not look like a total fool when I met the boys. I remember reading in his application that he was a full-time painter.

"So you're a painter? I like to paint as well."

"Do you do it professionally?" He asked, which took me slightly off guard. Why would I paint professionally? I was a princess. Looking at the genuine smile on his face I realised that he must not have recognised me in my casual jeans.

"Oh no, I'm not that good," I replied playing along with the charade. I rather enjoyed not being me for a few moments.

He looked like he was about to say something but he was pulled away by the photographer before he could. I blushed and looked away when I realised the whole room had their eyes on me and him.

"I hope to see you around, miss," he whispered placing a light kiss on my hand before walking away to join the rest of the group. I simply nodded a reply and awkwardly scurried out of the room; I had never in my life been so mortified. There I was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt caught spying on thirty-five men- just imagine the implications if the gender roles had been reversed.

My rushed escaped to the hallway caused me to run straight into a certain blonde-haired beauty knocking her to the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Annie, I didn't see you there," I exclaimed helping her to her feet relieved that she was laughing and not raging mad; she had her tendencies to be slightly bipolar. "Wait, what are you doing here?"

The princess Annabelle was the daughter of Princess Elsie, my father's sister, and they usually took residence at the palace in Paris because my aunt had married the French prince there. Their marriage wasn't forced, like it would've been before my grandparents' reign, I believe that they fell in love when she visited France and Annabelle was born a year later, fifteen years ago now.

"Mother and father have been arguing, and it's gotten really bad this time. I couldn't stay there any longer," she protested wiping a freshly formed tear from her cheek.
I pulled her in for a hug understanding what she was going through. When Harry died my parents started to row a lot, I'm not entirely positive why but I am under the assumption that a child's death creates immense strain on a relationship.

"Well you're welcome here anytime, you know that," I whispered as she pulled away from the embrace.

"Besides," she started completely switching the tone of the conversation, "I wanted to check out the company." She winked at that and I knew that she was referring to the selected.

"Annie, they are my suitors," I reminded her.

"There's thirty five though, you only pick one, can't you share?" She whined but I could tell that she had laced humour in her words.

I let out a forced laugh as a reply, but she worried me. My fifteen year old cousin was much prettier than me and everybody knew that. What if none of my suitors wanted me? What if they all wanted her? I could tell I was being silly but it was an irrational thought that would haunt me for weeks.