A/N: Maxon's my favorite character in the book, and I really enjoyed The Prince. This scene is my doing, but the rest of the chapters will mostly be "deleted scenes" or significant scenes in Maxon's POV. They'll also be longer than this.

This happens after America and Maxon's first meeting.

I do not own the Selection series.

PROLOGUE

"You're too stupid to see love when it stands right in front of you."

I can't even count how many times Daphne's words have echoed in my head. But I couldn't stop thinking about them—they cut right to the core of my greatest fears about the Selection.

"You'll find a wife because you have to . . ."

I ran a hand through my hair, growling in frustration. Of course I have to, I thought helplessly, and the words sounded pathetic even in my head. I needed to find a wife, and it was tradition that a prince of Illea marry a commoner in order to appease the people. But more than that, the Selection was my one shot at love, my one chance at happiness.

But what if . . .

Shut up, Maxon, you have enough what ifs to last your entire life, I told myself. I leaned back into my chair, sighing exhaustedly.

I tried to convince myself that my worries were baseless. The Selection had been going on for decades. If there were something wrong with it, it would have been abolished years ago. So surely, it was effective.

A quiet, familiar knocking interrupted my mental debate. I smiled; I had learned long ago to distinguish the kinds of knocks on my door: a harsh, loud knocking meant my father, while sharp, urgent knocks meant servants. But the one at that moment . . .

"Mom," I greeted her upon opening the door.

She gave me a quick smile. "May I come in?"

"Of course." I motioned for her to come forward, and she strode in gracefully, but quietly. Just like she always was.

I watched as she made her way across the room. She had undergone the Selection herself, and she was happy with Father. He always said that though she grew up as a Four, she was born to be queen—and it seemed true; she had a regal air around her, but nothing near as arrogant as my father's. She was generous and kind, and even possessed some kind of royal beauty.

I swallowed. What were the chances that I would find someone even close to her in the pool of thirty-five Selected? Then again, Father did filter the results, and he obviously had more experience than me in choosing who was princess material.

"So the girls are finally here." Her voice pulled me back to reality. I turned; she was sitting on my bed.

"They are." I wondered if that was a good thing. I thought about America Singer and her feeling like the entire palace was a cage. Not that I could blame her.

"Are you excited?" she asked me, unconsciously glancing at the door that lead to the princess' suite.

She used to sleep there, I thought. And at the end of this, someone else—my wife—is going to be there.

"Maxon?" Her voice cut through my thoughts. She was looking at me worriedly.

I cleared my throat, trying to wipe all uncertainty from my face. "Sure."

She gave me one of those it's-no-use-lying smiles. "It's okay to be nervous, dear."

Dear. America hated being called dear.

I sighed. "Thanks. I just—what if I don't know what love is?" I blurted out. Then I realized that I was talking to my mother and looked away in embarrassment. Another thing I hated about the Selection—I was being thrown into it with no experience or knowledge. As if dating were supposed to be second nature for me. And to top it all off, most of my attempts at romance were to be shown on national television.

Mom looked surprised at my outburst. "That's what's bothering you?" She had obviously been expecting something else, probably something that seemed more consequential.

"Yes," I admitted, ashamed. "How would I know if I just like her, or if I just think she's pretty? What if I don't even know how to love someone I do like properly? What if I mess up everything or what if she doesn't like me back . . . or . . . or . . ." I trailed off. I was wringing my hands, and even I could hear the desperation in my voice. It was rare that I fell apart like this, much less in front of my mother.

She pursed her lips. "Well, I can't really explain it, Maxon. You can't prepare for this kind of thing. You have to learn the hard way—you have to stumble and fall. You'll probably make more mistakes than you can count."

I winced. Mom had always been a comfort. But to be honest, her words were only agitating me even more.

"But more than anything, loving someone is a gamble. It's about gut feels and impulses and taking chances. It's a high risk—you'd be putting your own heart on the line."

"Why would anyone take the risk, then? Why would I take it?" I demanded.

Mom smiled softly. "That's exactly how you'll know if you really love someone, Maxon. If, even against all odds, you'd still be more than willing to take the risk for her again and again."

How'd you like it? Leave a review for my first published Selection fanfic? :)

Oh, and if you have any suggestions for a better title, I'd love to hear them! :D I'm thinking about changing it, but I don't know what to replace it with.