The only thing Prince Roy could remember from last night was that he puked on Lady Katrina's blue wedge heels. And that he hadn't regretted a thing.

He wasn't entirely sure how he'd come to be in his bed, the canopy drowning the four posters in velvet curtain, giving him privacy from the rest of his bedroom. He wasn't entirely sure why he was still dressed in his pinstripe suit, and how his hair was still tied into a, albeit messy, top knot.

He was sure how he got this blazing headache. Too much alcohol.

Roy groaned, yanking up his duvet convers. Fever rippled through his suit, yet he could still feel a chill dancing along his skin. Spots of black splattered his memories like shadowy patchwork, so when he tried picturing the crazy party he went to yesterday, he couldn't remember a thing – apart from Lady Katrina's shoes.

The corners of his eyes hurt from opening them widely, and he tossed himself over again and buried his face into the duvet. What time was it? It felt like three in the morning. Alas, with the winter light filtering through the canopy, it was probably about midday.

It was a shame about his shattered memories. Roy could only imagine how hilarious her reaction was.

Maybe something would return to him as the day went on.

A distinctive click sounded, soft and unassuming, and Roy heard the door to his room opened. He shrank into his duvet. Perhaps, if he pretended to be asleep, whoever it was would go away.

"Your Highness. I see you are awake."

Roy grumbled. Trust his favourite valet in the palace to figure it out without even cracking open the canopy.

The valet did. Clean, fresh light drove into Roy's eyes, and he squirmed.

"Ugh, Rudy, stop! I can feel my eyes burning!"

Rudy's eyebrows furrowed. With his bright red hair tied into a neat ponytail, it was hard to tell whether or not he was frantic.

"You'll soon feel your ears burning too, if you don't get up. Her Majesty is coming for you – and she is angry."

Roy let out another groan. Mother was angry with him. What a surprise.

Rudy tugged on the duvet. "She's right around the corner. I'm trying to save you further embarrassment, here."

Five more minutes, Roy thought. Clinging to his duvet like a koala to a tree, he let out a low whine and clenched his eyes shut. "It's fine. I'll deal with her."

Rudy clucked his tongue. "Your idea of dealing with a person couldn't soothe a tranquilised sloth, let alone Her Majesty—"

The door flew open, and Roy jerked awake, flinging his eyes open and straightening his back. He snuck a glance at the parted canopy, only to see his mother standing at the foot of his bed, a collection of papers in her hand. Her hair was stringy and black, peppered with grey, falling loose down her chest. Roy didn't think it was possible for her to look any more Korean with her hanbok, a traditional Korean dress. The chest and sleeves were blue, but the skirt and cummerbund, just below her chest, were navy. Dark and foreboding. It was a dress she wore for formal occasions.

She'd just escaped from a meeting, no doubt. Probably because of whatever she wanted to accuse Roy with.

Rudy gulped. "Queen Ji-Yu—"

"Out, Rudy," she commanded. "I need to have a word with my son."

Rudy hightailed out of the room without hesitation, nearly running into someone in the process.

It took Roy a moment to recognise his father, peering into the room with a wary look. Probably wondering if it was safe, or it he'd trip on empty bottles of vodka.

Queen Ji-Yu's obsidian glare speared into Roy, but she didn't take her eyes off him as she said, "Merrick, shut his door."

King Merrick tiptoed across the theshold and shut the door behind him. Taller than Ji-Yu, he peered over his shoulder at the room, his smile sympathetic. Always sympathetic.

Ji-Yu slapped down about twenty or so photographs, scattering on his messy duvet.

"Tell me what you see in these!"

Roy braced his arms behind him to sit up, trying to command his spine not to wobble, and peered groggily at a photograph. He recognised himself, his top-half stained with drinks, his bottom-half completely bare. He waved his butt at the camera. Luckily, that was the only thing the picture could capture. A pitcher of alcohol was in his hand, and his expression was curled into a wry smile.

These were pictures of the party last night. The party he had snuck out of the palace to attend. He had no memory of this, but it looked like he was having fun. In fact, it looked totally awesome.

What did he see? Roy dared meet Ji-Yu's gaze, and managed a grin. "A well-proportioned buttocks?"

Ji-Yu snatched the photograph from him. Fire blazed in the form of blossoming red on her cheeks. "Do you think this is funny, Jun? Do you think waving your derrière to the world will give Illéa a good reputation?!"

Not a good idea mentioning his butt, then.

Obviously he didn't agree to that. But he'd had a great time. Wasn't that the point of parties? He plucked another photograph – this time, he had his arm around two complete strangers, shot glasses in their hands. He didn't even recognise them, but at least in this picture he was fully covered.

"No, but I was having fun," he said, tossing the photograph back onto the pile. "Don't tell me you never went to a party, Mother."

Ji-Yu growled. "I never went to a party where I puked on someone and passed out, and I certainly never went to a party where I was naked."

"Half naked, actually," Roy corrected, with a smug grin.

Ji-Yujabbed a finger at another photo. "Oh, no. Fully naked."

Roy glanced to it. Yep, his chest and legs were bare. The photographer had had the decency to blur his private parts, at least.

"… Touché."

Ji-Yu let out an aggravated sigh, and pressed a hand to her forehead. "For heaven's sake, Jun. This is unacceptable for a prince to act like this. Do you know how embarrassing this is for you? For us?!"

Roy hadn't quite reached the cringe from last night's photos phase, yet.

Merrick stepped around Ji-Yu, his sympathy unwavering. "Son, you're going to inherit the throne one day. You can't have wild parties like this when you're king."

Ji-Yu shot Merrick a sharp look. "Don't be so nice to him. He needs to face the consequences for his actions." She looked back to Roy. "You will make a public apology on the Capital Report for your irresponsible behaviour."

Roy's chest clamped in, as if a black claw had grasped his heart. Make a public apology? That was even more embarrassing than these photos. That was admitting that he had made a mistake. Roy never made mistakes.

He scrunched up his face. "And if I don't?"

"Then I will make that you never set foot outside this palace until you're old and wrinkly. And I'll make sure every single guard knows that if they sneak you out of the palace at all, they will be banished to Eights."

Roy gulped. That was a steep price to pay. Not for him, but for the guards. The guards didn't deserve it, not for his indiscretions.

Merrick frowned, facing her slightly. "Hold on, now, honey. We don't want to punish the guards, do we? When it is Roy's fault?"

Ji-Yu swivelled to face him, too. "I would much rather not, but someone let him out last night. And I will make quite certain that no guard forgets his duty again." Her eyes lasered back into Roy with renewed aggravation. "Can you imagine the other lords and ladies of our court presenting us with this during an important meeting? That's how we found out. I have never been more ashamed in my entire life."

For the first time, Roy felt guilt trickle down his spine, and he slouched into the comfort of his bed. The lords and ladies of the court were old, traditional, and total killjoys, but he still didn't want them to look down upon him or his family.

Ji-Yu seemed to straighten. "You think about the mess you made. I'm going back to work."

She swirled on her heels, her dress skirt flowing around her, yanked open the door and marched away. The din of her high heeled footsteps seemed to haunt Roy's ears, even after she'd long left. The silence was a relief in her absence.

Merrick sighed and shut the door again. The bed creaked when he sat on the edge of Roy's mattress, and he collected the photographs in his hand. Roy took the opportunity to lean back against his headboard and wrap the duvet around him, enveloping him in soft and calm. At least his scolding was over.

"Oh, son. Why?" said Merrick. He glanced at a particular photograph, before averting his gaze with a wrinkle of his nose. "Why do you insist on parties? What is the fascination?"

Roy wanted to laugh. When he was drunk, at least, he could forget about his overbearing mother and her desperate need to suck all the joy out of Roy's life. You're the heir to the throne, Jun, he could imagine in her voice. No parties, Jun! Write some reports, Jun! Fun is a crime punishable by death, Jun!

"They're fun and enjoyable," he said, looking at his father. Most people would assume they had no blood connection – Merrick was a man with bright blond hair, festive green eyes, and a kind smile on his fair complexion. Roy, however, looked most like Ji-Yu – wide set eyes, dark brown hair, brown eyes, high cheekbones, tanned skin.

Merrick bunched the photographs together. "Yes, but surely by the time you pass out, they lose their fun?"

Roy laughed, though it hurt his head to do so. "You have a lot to learn about my generation of partiers, Dad."

Merrick laughed, too. "I suppose I do. It has been about thirty years. Even then, I was more a bookish person, than anything." He fell to whispers. "Your mother was actually very much into parties."

Roy drew his head back – it pounded. "Really? Mother?"

Merrick grinned childishly, as if sharing a special secret. "Yes! She'd never admit it now, but I do recall holding an evening cocktail party during my Selection. She wore a beautiful white gown, I remember – but because she became quite fond of the sherry, she ended the night with a red dress, instead!"

He started to laugh – and Roy had to laugh along with him. At least Dad seemed to find some humour in the situation. Roy couldn't imagine his mother, heavy on the alcohol, and his father holding back her hair as she stuck her head down a toilet. And Roy definitely couldn't imagine his parents at his age, along with thirty-four other girls, competing in a Selection for his hand. The thought sent shivers down his spine. That burden must have been hell on earth.

Merrick cut his laughter short, and he shook his head with a quaint smile. "Please don't be too hard on her. She's very stressed at the moment."

At this, Roy sat up. "Why?"

Merrick rose to toss the photographs into Roy's wastebin. "There's been some rebel activity in Honduragua. We've been trying to clear it up, but it only seems to exacerbate every day. There's pockets in every province, but down south is the worst. Naturally, your mother has taken charge." He frowned harder. "They're… sending spies, son. Spies."

Spies. The word made him feel faint. People sent to report to their masters on what they had learnt, maintaining cover as innocent bystanders. They could be here, in the palace, sapping information from the meetings Ji-Yu and Merrick attended. Stealing their plans. Working on counterattacks.

Roy whispered, "Spies? How do you know?"

Merrick sighed. "Our friends from the south uncovered a few of them. Your mother and I are worried they've infiltrated the court, or perhaps some of the province governing bodies. But, you know, she handles the stress much worse than I do."

Roy let the information sink in. The palace was meant to be the safest place in the entirely of Illéa. His home. Now he didn't even feel safe here.

He sighed. His suit clasped to his frame with sweat. A desperate need to shower and change pulsed through him.

"I should probably get up."

Merrick chuckled. "That you should, Roy. I should be going, too." He reached into his pocket, and produced a small bottle, plastic and opaque. "Here. I thought you might need these. For your hangover. The strong ones."

Roy smiled, taking the bottle. It rattled full with headache pills. "Thanks, Dad."

Merrick beamed back. "All right, I'll leave you to change." He reached for the doorknob, before freezing solid. The colour suddenly drained from his face.

Ice slid down Roy's veins. Something wasn't right. "What's with that face?"

"I... I just remembered," Merrick said, his voice pitching high. "Your mother... has mentioned that you have a Selection."

Alarms rang in Roy's ears, and his chest contracted so hard it felt like he hadn't breathed air for years.

A Selection.

A Selection.

He shot up from his bed. "Wait, what?!" he sputtered.

"Well, I best be going," Merrick yanked open the door, though his face was ridden with guilt. "Come find us later. When you're ready."

He scampered out.

"Wait, Dad! Come back!" Roy yelled, reaching a hand out. "You can't just drop a potential Selection on me and leave!"

But Merrick was long gone.

Roy didn't have the mental capacity to shut his open jaw. He had questions, so many questions, about his proposed Selection. He hadn't agreed to anything of the sort – they rarely talked about Merrick and Ji-Yu's Selection, let alone a potential one for Roy.

The words revolved around in his head, and that initial feeling of confusion curdled into horror. He wasn't ready for a Selection. He was nineteen – in his prime years of youth. He didn't want to tie down his life with marriage and kinghood! He hadn't even managed to enjoy his teenage years yet!

Roy fell back against the pillow. Thirty-five girls. One of him. In any other situation, the thought may have excited him – but he knew this was just Mother's way of getting back to him. He hadn't proved he was ready to settle down and burden the crown, yet, but a wife would make him ready.

No more parties. No more fun. Just… a bunch of girls. And with the rebels rising in south Illéa, and the potential for spies in every nook and cranny, how could he ever focus on anything fun ever again?

He shut his eyes, and reopened them. The world looked the same, his headache blinding him. Mustering a breath, and large amounts of willpower, Roy threw his duvet off him, and rang for Rudy. With any luck, the whole Selection idea was just a phase.

Ji-Yu would come to her senses… right?

He had a sickening feeling she wouldn't.

A/N: Greetings, citizens of Illéa! I am here today to announce to you that Prince Roy will be holding a Selection! Thirty-five lucky girls will compete to win his heart. Think your girl can win? Enter, and find out!

The Selection and the Spy, Submit Your Original Character Rules:

1. No Mary Sues (perfect characters with no flaws). I will ask either that you change your character extensively or resubmit a new character. If you need help with that, Google is your friend, or you can ask me!

2. DIVERSITY. Please give me some diverse characters! Non-white and non-straight characters (though they should at least be attracted to men) are fantastic and appreciated, less likely to be turned down, and more likely to advance further in the competition. I am also advocating for diverse personalities: give me some Celestes as well as Marlees!

3. Do not name your character after an existing fictional character if the name brings connotation to that specific character. No Celaenas, no Hermiones, no Katnisses (however, names like Rose, Tessa, and Cath will be accepted). It takes away from the story!

4. Please review at least occasionally! Don't submit your character and then never appear again. I would love to know what you think about the portrayal of your character, and your opinion of the other characters, too. Root for someone! It's more fun! Again, I am obliged to let characters whose submitters review more often advance further through the competition.

5. Please fill the form out as much as possible. The more detail you provide, the better I can write your character, the more likely they are to advance further through the competition.

6. You may submit a character you have already submitted to another Selection SYOC, but please rename them (and I mean fully rename – don't just, e.g., swap their first and middle names). I want this Selection to be unique!

7. At the moment, it is one character per submitter. This may change if I don't receive enough submissions, so keep an eye out on my profile for changes!

8. I can reserve a province for you, but I won't keep them reserved forever!

9. Please PM me the form, and use this format in the subject line: Forename and Surname, Age (in numbers), Caste Number (in letters), Province, Profession. For example, "America Singer, 17, Five, Carolina, Musician." No other submission methods will be accepted.

10. Ask me for any questions!

And the most important thing to note:

Two of the Selected will be spies for the rebels; one spy will be revealed in the middle, the other spy will be revealed at the end. Who will they be? No one knows. Once all characters are submitted, I will choose who the rebel spies are, incorporate it into their backstory (changing as little as possible) and write from there. The submitters will not be told if their characters are spies. Does this mean they don't have a chance at winning? Of course not! They could win, and Illéa could go down in flames. Or, they could fall madly in love with Prince Roy, see the error of their ways, and abandon their rebel affinity. Time will tell!

Please note I am following the style of The Heir, and only writing from Prince Roy's Point of View. It's much easier than switching between twenty-five plus other personalities!

Twenty-five characters will be accepted. The other ten will be throwaways. Updates to submission status can be read on the summary or in my profile.

The form is on my profile. This is my first SYOC fanfiction, so I have no idea what to expect. I have always wanted to write one, and after reading some of the fantastic Selection SYOCs here I thought I'd give it a go! I will try my best to make it entertaining and fun! Good luck!

All reviews, favourites and follows appreciated! Thanks for reading!

~ GreenWithAwesome

19th Jan 2017 EDIT: Beefed up, fixed some errors.