A/N
I apologize for the super long A/N but it won't happen again (I hope). Being that this is the first chapter, however, there remains quite a bit to be said. First, I have to thank all those who have helped and encouraged me in the process of writing this story. There are too many of you to thank, but I'd like to give a special shoutout to Caisha702, for the inspiration provided in so many of her stories and the constant stream of input and insight she has given me. You rock!
So, here it begins! Just for starters, I hope to update frequently, but I'm notoriously picky with my work so I won't post if I don't think something is 100% where I want it to be. As many of you probably know, I've been working on this story for quite some time now. I'd originally expected it to be much shorter, but as I wrote more and more, I just kept unearthing new aspects of Glimmer's story that I felt really ought to be told. I've had people tell me that I spend much of my time playing devil's advocate, and I have to admit it's true. I have a thing for those characters that no one ever thinks twice about because they're so despicable or so forgettable that they simply fall from your mind. So that's my goal, here: to take a character I've been fascinated with for a long time, Glimmer, and bring her out of the two dimensional shadows into the light of fascination. I hope you all enjoy taking this journey with her!
Oh, and please read on ½ setting thanks!
-Iri
The first thing that registers is light. Sunlight, bright in my eyes. It is warm on my bare shoulders. I squint up at the sky, a beautiful shade of heavenly blue.
Next, there is sound. The noise of the crowd fills my ears, roaring. Their screams, their cries of joy and adulation. The sounds of praise fill me to the brim. I am on top of the world. Floating, yet tethered to the earth by the hand that holds my wrist high in the air.
And then, the voice cuts through the air, ringing out my victory: "Ladies and gentlemen of District One, I give you… your tributes for the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games!" And with those words, I am complete. Everything I have worked for, every second of the last four years, this is where it all comes together.
My eyes flash out across the roaring crowd of the people I have come to know over the last seventeen years of my life, searching, searching, until they find her. My mentor, who stares up at me with an impassive face. Her eyes, however, tell another story. They shine a brilliant blue, with pride, I think. She, of everyone in the entire nation of Panem, knows exactly how I feel right now. As if every bone in my body is screaming out with my triumph. I am flying.
The emotion of the moment diminishes only slightly as, to the cheers of every citizen of District One, a Peacekeeper leads me and my counterpart, a boy by the name of Marvel Theodelyte, off the stage and into the grand marble Justice Building. A path forms in the crowd as we march through to the famed building, a place I have dreamed of seeing for years.
I am not disappointed as the ornately carved wooden doors close behind us without a sound. The richly carpeted hall, paneled with more engraved wood and topped by crystal chandeliers, is breathtaking. Even my father, one of the wealthiest men in the district, has never been inside the Justice Building. The brilliant bloodred carpeting is soft beneath my sandaled feet as the first Peacekeeper, a somber-looking woman with curiously-colored amber eyes, opens an intricately-carved wooden door and motions for me to enter. With a toss of my curly white-gold hair, I slip through the proffered door. The uniformed woman watches me carefully as I seat myself on a cream colored leather couch. I want to laugh derisively- does she really think I'm going to try anything now, when I'm practically in the lap of the Capitol? -but I hold my tongue. I wouldn't put it past this woman, with her foreign accent and Capitol-made uniform, to make my life more difficult later on. I may be a tribute now, but I remain relatively powerless in the grand scheme of things. Besides, I can't tip my hand now, letting them see me for who I truly am. I have to act detached, as if all others are beneath me. Use what gifts I have to get ahead, including the well-formed body with which I have been graced. That's the plan. A beautiful girl, nothing more than a pretty face with mere average intelligence, which, insulting as it may feel, Cashmere has assured me will help in the long run.
If they knew how smart you really are, she'd said, you'd be a target straight off. This way, you'll be an ally, not an enemy. Dignified and aloof, that's how my mentor has instructed me to behave while inside these walls, and I intend to follow her directions to the letter.
With a final mistrustful nod, the white-uniformed Peacekeeper shuts the door with a gentle thud, leaving me to my thoughts. Silence fills the room, which is almost too opulent even for District One, but not my head. So many thoughts are buzzing around, chief among them, At last. At last I am here, a place I have dreamed of for years. I, Glimmer Duval, am District One's female tribute for the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. I am sixteen years old, intelligent, at my peak, and ready for battle at last. My body, slender and soft as it may appear, is a machine built of elegance and deadly grace. It is time, at last, at last, to show the world just what I am capable of.
I am shaken from my fantastic reverie as the heavy door creaks open to reveal my father and two older brothers, along with my father's latest acquisition, a much-younger-than-he woman by the name of Enamel with all the brains of a five-year-old. All are dressed in their imported Capitol finery and looking, in my father's case, as uptight and rigid as ever. As the four members of my family march over the threshold, the younger of my two brothers gives me a wink and a sarcastic smirk as I roll my eyes dramatically at my father's back.
Rivet knows exactly how I feel regarding the Games, having observed my practices with Cashmere for many years. Father wanted to make sure he was getting his money's worth, I suppose, and sent his younger son to play spy, but Rivet spent most of his time chatting it up with Gloss, my mentor's younger brother. Gloss has a trainee as well, a boy by the name of Azure, but he's only thirteen, and therefore has shorter and fewer practices each day, so Gloss spends his afternoons with Cashmere and I. The two of them are as close as… well, Rivet and I.
Despite being a full two years apart in age, Rivet and I are the best of friends. My brother and I are as thick as thieves, and it has remained so for years. He knows I care nothing for the admiring glances of both teenage boys as well as men much older than I, that I find them revolting, even. He's bloodied many a nose in the past, despite my assurances that I am quite capable of doing so myself. He knows that the Games are my escape, the only way to make the world see that Glimmer Duval is so much more than just a porcelain doll to sit on a shelf and look pretty.
My father clears his throat loudly as he seats himself, uninvited, on a stiff black leather armchair directly across from me. The chair fits his personality to the letter: upright, starched, and unmoving. No one crosses Rod Duval, not even me.
"You are to win and come promptly home," he begins in his usual faintly-nasal voice. "You are not to cavort about with anyone, including all those Capitol boys who may come calling. You are to remain dignified and act at all times like a proper member of the Duval family. You will not fail me. Am I clear?" His cold blue eyes are staring me down, unblinking. I find it a true testament to how little my father knows me that he thinks I would ever actually go looking for such attention. Then again, he's never bothered to make much of an attempt to spend quality time with me, his only daughter. After all, I am only his possession, a purse of pale gold with which to bribe his enemies.
I have to take a deep breath before responding with what is considerably less than my usual biting wit. "Yes, Father, you know I will do nothing to embarrass myself- or you- in the Capitol. I don't think I could live with the horror or the shame!" By the end of the sentence, my voice is faintly sarcastic, hard as I try to remain civil. It does me no favors to argue with my father. I learned long ago to suck it up and try to get out of reach as quickly as possible.
As I half-expected, he detects the hint of disrespect in my voice and his eyes narrow dangerously. "Listen to me, little girl, this is not something to sneer about! If your brother were not too old for the reaping, he would be in your place and you would already be married off and out of my way! Since I've been forced to pay for these ridiculous lessons for the past four years, I expect to get my money's worth out of them. And-" Here his voice goes dark and he leans forward until our faces are barely a foot apart. "If you do anything to shame or otherwise undermine the respect I have spent years building up for this family, do not expect to be welcomed home!"
Lovely. My father, as you can see, cares far more about his personal finances and his precious reputation than he does his own daughter. I lean back lazily in my seat, crossing my long bare legs and inspecting my flawless nails with a sigh. Cashmere's instruction echoes in my ears. Let them think you are as you appear. And while my brother, at least, knows I am capable of far more than I seem, I know I'm not the best actress in the world. Might as well get some practice in before I must face the cameras again.
"Yes, father, whatever you say," I reply in a bored tone designed to stir up trouble. I am sick and tired of playing dead in his presence. I hear his incensed hiss before I look up from under my lashes. His face is turned red, about to blow. I know it's inadvisable to poke the mad bull with a stick, so to speak, but I can't resist. I've been under his power for too long, and now that I am free from the overpowering influence, sixteen years of taunts and careless words all seem to release at once as I speak.
"But you would also do well to remember, dear father, that I no longer am a member of this family. From the minute I stepped onto that stage, I became Capitol property, and as such, I am no longer under your authority. So do not presume to order me about again. I am no longer a helpless child for you to bully and mold to your own wishes." By the end of my statement, my voice is laced with all the venom I have built up over the years, my eyebrows drawn downward in a dangerous V, and my father is breathing so heavily you would think he just ran a marathon. His fist twitches in his lap and I know it is only his fear of marring my perfect face that keeps him from slapping me across the cheek right now.
My father rises abruptly to his feet, Enamel hopping up like a jack-in-the-box at the same time, and with one more disdainful glare, he straightens his perfectly starched collar and tie. "If this is how you treat your father, do not expect me to mourn when you lie in your own blood in that arena." He spits the words out, nearly frothing at the mouth, and with a sharp gesture towards my brothers, who sit spellbound on the nearest couch, he turns to go.
Red fills my vision as I hear, for the final time, the damning words. I have always known my father cares nothing for me, even reveled in the fact, but to throw it back in my face now… It is too much at last.
With one swift motion, I snatch a crystal-fluted glass from a nearby tray, smash the globe against a carved wooden table, and with a deadly-quick motion, reach around from behind to press the jagged edge of the stem to Rod Duval's windpipe. Despite the simple truth that I am several inches shorter, my arm fits perfectly around his neck to prick the skin. Enamel squeals shrilly and claps a well-manicured hand over her mouth. We never did get along, but I suspect that relationship will not have improved any now. My father's surprised gulp is audible in the shocked silence of the room.
"No," I hiss, all traces of composure gone. Rage fills my mind, and I cannot think otherwise. "Do not expect me to mourn you, my father, when you lie alone at your funeral. Because if it is the last thing I do, I will make sure you are remembered as the heartless, greedy bastard that I know you to be. I will never belong to you again, and this is the last time I ever call you father."
I throw the broken shard of glass to the ground, and shove the dark-suited man in front of me away. He stumbles towards the door, turning to look at me with a look of total disbelief on his usually-stern face before stumbling from the room with Enamel practically glued to his side. My eldest brother Steel quickly rises and rushes after them with a startled glance in my direction. No goodbye from him, but then, I didn't expect one. We were never close as children, and he is far too much a slave to my father for me to even bother trying to make a connection now.
As I turn back to take my seat once more, Rivet rises to meet me in the center of the room, rubbing a hand through shining white-blond hair. We could be twins, my brother and I. Light hair, green eyes inherited from our dead mother, three wives ago. Being married to my father is a high-stress position, I suspect. The last two both suffered panic attacks and ended up in a Capitol sanitarium. I suspect they're happier now, where they can sip their tea and gossip in peace. Enamel's actually holding up well so far, but it's only been a few months, so I won't hold my breath for a miracle.
"A touching farewell," Rivet snorts sarcastically, and we both laugh out loud, his wide eyes dancing as he meets my closed fist with one of his own in a gesture we perfected long ago in our childhood. Then his face sobers. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop him from coming," he says, looking me dead in the eye. For the first time, I realize just how grateful I am to have my brother. He understands that I don't want any goodbyes, that I would find them an insult. I didn't have to ask him to stay away, but I know he planned not to even come to visit this tiny room before my departure. My brother knows that, should I fall in the arena, against all odds, this is not how I want him to remember me. My father may have ruined his plans, but I know Rivet has always meant the best.
In response, I lean forward to place my closed fist over his heart. "For you," I whisper. "Always for you." He places a hand over mine, giving it a squeeze and dropping his cheek to the crown of my head.
"And Glimmer," he says softly, "never say goodbye."
And then he is gone, the trace of his solemn kiss lingering in my hair as my brother disappears out the door. Never say goodbye. A shiver runs down my spine. Those three words, hushed and meant only for me, I've heard them before. An undercurrent running below the surface of my home district, spoken in quiet tones to those who leave and, more often than not, never return. The trained warriors of District One are as diverse as the people of Panem, but we are all united by those three simple words. Never say goodbye. To say goodbye is to mourn, to be weak. And so we do not say goodbye. If it is my fate to fall in the arena, so be it, because I'd rather die there than suffer the rest of my life as a veritable slave to my father. And then, at least, I will die with my pride.
I sit back down and smooth the pale fabric of my dress over my thighs, trying to regain my composure as the sallow-faced Peacekeeper returns to collect me. "Time to go," she mutters sullenly, motioning for me to follow her. I don't, not at first. Instead, I rise and cross to the gilded mirror hanging on the far wall, where I stare into my own reflection. Long-lashed green eyes stare back at me. I have never liked my eyes before, disliking their odd glass-like tint, but now, knowing I may never see my brother again, they are the closest thing I have to a reminder of my true family, a piece of happiness I will hold fast to when I am gone.
It's time. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine. I reach up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear and wet my lips with a few drops from the jug of water on the tray. Perfect. I look just as flawless as ever. Placing a satisfied smile upon my lips, I turn back to the door and make my way from the room. The Capitol awaits.
A/N
So, what do you think? Please, take the time to review so I know how I'm doing. Thanks!