Full Summary:

* Loosely based off the Selection series by Kiera Cass *

As a Seven in the caste system, Astrid Hofferson is very poor. When an opportunity to earn some money pops up, she applies for the Selection, a competition against 34 other girls for the hand of Prince Eret. In a whirl of events, Astrid is chosen and is whisked from her run-down shack to the glistening palace across the country.

When Astrid meets the prince, she hates him. She hates Eret, she hates the gowns and makeup, the huge buffets and curtsying. But she meets a boy her age, who also hates Eret. But she finds out he's another prince, Eret's younger brother, Hiccup. Astrid and Hiccup develop an odd friendship, each other being the only company they enjoy in the castle. More trouble starts to arise as Eret takes a liking to Astrid, but at the same time, Hiccup and Astrid grow closer.

The longer she stays at the castle, she's thrown into a world full of battles, rebellion, and creatures she had no idea existed. As she chooses a side to fight for, she risks everything for justice.

A royal amount of trouble is going to go down.

Hi, and welcome to my new story! The plot isn't based off of the Selected series, you'll see as the chapters go on. It uses the universe and dystopia feel, though!

Expect lots of twists and turns that aren't included in the books! It's a bit of a wild ride here and everyone just kinda needs a hug.

If you want to learn more about the Selection universe/plot, visit their Wikia!

I don't own HTTYD or The Selection. Most of the plot is mine, plus a few minor OC's sprinkled throughout.

The thick, cream-colored paper felt heavy in my hands. The pressure of my family looking at me felt like big weights resting on my shoulders. I tried not to notice their eyes boring into my every pore as I scanned the words printed in the expensive ink. My eyes were dizzy from trying to read so much at once, I had to grip the table for support.

It was so hard to focus when there were so many words. I tried to fix my gaze on one line, but I couldn't. I held my finger to the line, trying to grasp any information on the parchment. One part caught my eye, and I read aloud. "'The families of the Selected participants will receive a generous amount of money for every week their candidate remains in the running of the competition.' A generous amount of money, huh?" That seemed to be the only appealing part of this application.

My mother and father shared a glance, and then both looked back to me. Being Sevens and having four kids to feed and clothe meant life was hard a generous sum was definitely tempting and something to hope for.

"This is your decision, Astrid," Dad told me softly. "We're not forcing you into anything. But if there's a chance, even as slim as a this, that you can have a better life, I believe you should take it." His gaze told me he was telling the truth. I knew he wanted me to do it.

"I'm fine with my life," I said sharply. It wasn't a complete lie, I did enjoy working and getting my hands dirty with my tools. I liked to fix things, which I was starting to do for a living. Fixing cars for the upper castes, fixing pipes and appliances. It was hard work for little money, which was the not-so-great part about this life.

Being a family of Sevens, we were pretty much the lowest caste without being homeless. We made next to no money, lived in a cruddy shack, never had enough food, and practically wore rags for clothing. It was miserable, but that didn't mean I wanted a life full of billowing dresses, marble floors, and glass slippers. I liked work, so the Selection wasn't very appealing to me. I didn't want to compete with thirty-four other girls for the affections of a guy I didn't know, or like so far.

We had dead-end jobs with a house that was barely standing. We were miserable, but it wasn't as if we could do anything about it. That's the way Berk's caste system worked, put in place many years ago by the King. It was very beneficial for the people who were Ones, Twos, and Threes, but anyone below that was pretty much screwed. You were assigned your caste by birth, whatever your parents were.

The only way you could move up was if you married a man who was of a higher caste. It was incredibly sexist, and I hated it, because if you had a woman who was a Four, and a man who was a Six who wanted to marry, they'd both become Sixes. If the roles were switched, however, they'd both be Fours. Welcome to Berk.

For the past eighteen years, I was able to prepare myself mentally and physically for my life ahead of me. A life of low-incomes, hunger, and misery. I cried a lot when I was younger, but it seemed I had run out of tears. Keep your gaze forward, work as hard as you can, make the most of this shitty life. Life motto.

"This is no life!" Dad said angrily. "We're on the brink of starvation! We're struggling to pay our bills, and now we have to raise more children!"

I agreed with him, but I didn't want to admit so.

Originally, I had one brother, two years younger, named Gustav. We didn't look much alike, aside from our eyes were both blue. But about four months ago, my mother saw a set of twins in a soaked-through cardboard box in an alleyway, most likely left by an Eight. They are now being raised by us, as my brothers. But they're demanding infants, and hard to keep happy.

"Astrid, at least apply. The chances of you being picked are next to zero, but we need some hope in this household," Mom urged. The pleading in her expression was obvious. I hated it when she guilted me into things, and it made me want to apply even less, if that was even possible.

I looked at them both for a long time. I didn't want to go to the king's palace, I didn't want to meet Prince Eret, I didn't want to be a princess. But if it helped my family, I didn't care. I would do anything for them.

I wrote my name. I wrote my age. I wrote my caste. I wrote my profession. I listed my education. I wrote my special talents, which didn't include much. I knew how to fix things, and I used to play the flute for fun. I liked to write, short stories were my forte. I could also speak basic Latin, in which I learned from an old, torn up book I found in a dumpster.

I filled it out quickly, before I had the chance to change my mind. If I had to go through the torture in the palace for my family to actually have enough food, it would be more than worth it.

"They take pictures tomorrow, I'd say that's when you take your lunch break," Mom suggested. I just nodded. I went into my brothers' and my room, and I curled up under the covers. There was no turning back now.

My day at work was the same as any other day. I fixed a car. I tweaked someone's sink, and tinkered with some pipes. I fixed a stove right after that in a Four's house, and when I saw their daughter dressing up and fixing her hair, most likely for her picture, they looked at me sympathetically in my oil and dirt-covered face and torn tunic. They tipped me a little, in which I thanked them repeatedly for.

At my lunch break, I rushed home, and put on my least-torn brown tunic. I tried to scrub the dirt and grime off my face, but some of it wouldn't budge. I had to go to work immediately afterward, so I had to keep my toolbelt with me. I still very much looked like a mess, but I didn't look as messy as usual.

My mom came home from work, her face also dirty and sweaty from gardening all day. She was, obviously, a gardener, Dad and I were repairmen (well, I was a repairwoman) and Gustav was a farm hand. We all had low-paying jobs that Sevens have. I liked to fix things, but I admitted, I would rather be a policeman or a doctor. Or, like my lifelong dream, to be able to join the army.

Mom and I walked to the city hall, in our town in the province Dakota. Girls were lined up outside, wearing fine jewelry and their nicest clothes. Nicest clothes for Twos included dazzling dresses and shining rhinestones, while Fives had simple sweaters and Sixes and Sevens were either in a plain tunic or their work clothes.

I redid my blond braid, trying to make it look somewhat nicer than it did, and brushed my bangs and tucked them behind my ear. I wanted to shrivel up and hide with some of the looks that people were giving us. A girl, obviously a Two, was in a short, blue dress covered completely in sparkles gave me a mean face. Her face had so much makeup on, her face color was three shades darker than her neck color. I just narrowed my eyes at her. I wouldn't let her get into my head. I wasn't worth any less than her, just because of my caste.

When we got closer to the doors, and there were lots of people behind us, I heard a child's shriek. I whipped around, trying to see the source of the screaming. A girl in a sundress and dark hair was trying to calm a smaller child, probably around three years old. The little girl was crying over a doll whose arm fell off onto the ground. The child picked the arm up and tried to attack it, but to no avail.

Neither the little girl's sister or mother could calm her. The child was yelling and crying and screaming, causing some people to plug their ears in annoyance. Nobody was helping the girl, and I felt bad. I felt the screwdriver on my toolbelt, and I thought; what if I could fix the doll?

I left Mom to our place in line, and I skirted toward the little girl. She was still sobbing and the plastic arm of the doll was on the ground. I kneeled down next to her, so I could talk to her eye-to-eye. I picked up the arm and tried to calm her.

"Shhh... shhh.. hey, hey!" I coaxed. "Hi!" The girl stopped wailing, but the tears still riveted down her cheeks as she wiped her eyes and looked at me. I kept talking. "Hi, I'm Astrid. What's your name?" I wasn't very good with kids, but if I could help this one out, it would make my day infinitely better.

The little girl sniffed. "Ruby," she said. She had big, brown eyes and dark skin. I thought she was one of the most adorable little girls ever, looking at me with her sad gaze.

"Hi Ruby, see my tool belt here?" I asked in a tone I reserved for children only. Ruby nodded. "I might be able to fix your doll with my screwdriver here." I hoped. I didn't know what to connect and to where I would connect it, but I had to try. I prayed that there was a way I could fix it, I didn't want to lead the girl on and not be able to actually fix it.

I picked up the arm and the small silver screw that I almost didn't notice next to it. I showed Ruby the screwdriver and the arm. She gave me the doll, I put the arm back in place and screwed it into place. I wiggled the arm a little, moving the plastic around to see if it would fall out at all. When it didn't, I handed the doll back to her. A grin spread from ear-to-ear.

"Thank you! Thank you thank you!" Ruby cried, hugging her doll. I just smiled and put my screwdriver back. When I stood, I remembered her sister and mother.

They looked at me with awe, and also gratefulness. I nodded to them, but the girl in the dress tugged at my sleeve. "Wait!"

I turned, meeting her dark eyes that looked so much like Ruby's. I raised an eyebrow in question, wondering what she wanted.

"Thank you. When she has fits like that, hardly anything can calm her down," she told me. "Here, I can give this to you as payment." She started fumbling through the small bag at her side but I waved it off.

"No, no, I refuse to be paid," I said. "I just fixed a doll, it's no big deal, really."

The girl wouldn't listen and kept digging through her purse until she pulled out a small plastic bag. Delighted that she found it, she opened the bag and handed one of it's white, square contents to me.

"Clean your face," she ordered, handing me the wipe. I wasn't expecting this "payment". I cautiously took the wipe and looked at it, then started to clean my face with it. Brown dirt and oil made themselves prominent and visible on the white cloth, and within a minute my face and neck were clear of the grime.

"Thank you," I said, and to my surprise, she took the dirty wipe and put it in her bag. I wondered if she had any special things in that little purse that the wipe would have ruined from the filth.

"You're welcome," the girl said. She thrust out her hand in front of me with a greeting. "I'm Jade, Five."

I looked at her hand, and then back at mine. Though she was a lower caste, she wore a simple dress that must've been quite expensive. Her hands were clean, and mine were not. I didn't want to mess up her clean hands with the filth on mine.

But Jade insisted, and practically grabbed my hand from my side and shook it firmly.

"Astrid, Seven," I mumbled the last part, but I still earned a sympathetic look. I hated that look. I didn't need sympathy. I didn't want pity from anyone, because I was a fighter. I hated how people thought my low caste number defined my worth as a person. I hated it.

"Well, good luck!" Jade said. "Smile big." The girl was so optimistic, there seemed to be beams of light shining from her chocolate skin. I couldn't help but smile also.

"You as well," I responded. "Thanks for the wipe." And with that, I returned to my place next to my mother in line. My spirits were somewhat lifted from the incident, it was a nice feeling to fix a little girl's day.

This feeling kept with me into the building, and when I saw Ruby hugging and dancing with her plastic doll, it made another grin come onto my face. I don't recall ever making someone that happy, ever. So when the man taking the photos called me to take my picture, my smile was genuine and big. Ruby had made my day.

"I haven't seen that smile in years," Mom commented as we walked down the steps, back into the cool breeze. "It's nice."

My mother sang all week.

She hummed while she cooked a small pot of stew, she whistled while she planted, and she sang while she weeded gardens. Her eyes had the bright blue twinkle in them, the one that means she's happy, in which I hadn't seen in quite a few years.

She was hopeful. I was not. But I wanted her to keep that way. She was tipped more by her clients because of the optimism, and she bought us some juice. Gustav had to restrain himself to not chug the entire jug down.

Eventually, the day came. All too soon. It was the day that the Selected would be announced. I wasn't excited or nervous, like Mom. I wasn't cheerful and could wait to gather around our library's television. I didn't want her hope to be gone when I didn't get it. To me, there was just no chance of me being Selected. It was me in a pool of all the other girls in Dakota. My mother was too hopeful, and I was going to be sad when they didn't call my name.

My boss, the Three that runs the shop and employs us mechanics and repairmen, was usually a stone-cold man with little emotion on his face. He didn't like us Sixes and Sevens, he usually preferred not to interact with us. But he might have noticed my sadder expression, hence why he came over to me fixing a golf cart engine.

"Miss Hofferson?" he said while holding a clipboard. "Everything alright? I sure do hope that sour face is not affecting your work."

"No, sir," I said. "I just don't want to upset my family."

"I don't think you could ever do that, Miss Hofferson." He walked away with that, and I admit, it made me feel a little bit better. My anxiety still kept me from feeling happy about the upcoming night. In fact, I wanted to vomit from just thinking about it. I tried not to imagine tears in my mom's eyes or the creases of wrinkles in my father's face from disappointment.

These images haunted me, even until we gathered around the public television.