The Lady Of Shalott

So here we are, Chapter 2. This is more of a world building type of chapter. A lot has changed in Panem in 17 years, and Sky is a grown woman now, so it was interesting adjusting to her new voice. The action will be picking up over the next few chapters, as next Chapter we will be back with Hazel and the others.

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Chapter 2 - Sky

Teesa was ten when she asked us the first time.

It was dinner time, the sun setting across the water, and Cato had just come home from work, shedding his uniform to tug on some looser, more comfortable clothes, scooping little Hazel up into his arms as he returned to the kitchen. Teesa was sitting with her homework in front of her, her little face frowning as she looked down.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" I remember asking her, sweeping around behind, to start clearing away papers so we could all sit down for the family meal we all share. I remember brushing my hand over her hair, the soft golden colour of her father's side of the family. She was so much like Cato, still is, fierce and independent, and with a competitive streak a mile wide. She's fiery and feisty like her aunt, passionate and powerful like her adoptive uncle. In truth there is not very much of me in my eldest child, apart from the colour of her eyes, she's a Du'Grey through and through, although Deccia informs me she inherited my brains.

I suspect she just says that to annoy Cato, however.

Teesa looked up at me, with those big, catlike green eyes, and she asked me the question I'd always dreaded hearing.

"Mum, what are the Hunger Games?"

It wasn't like I hadn't known the question would come. It was inevitable.

The Hunger Games are a part of our history, and although they have been gone for more than 17 years now, I can still remember every detail of my time in the Arenas. The old wounds still hurt, although they are dulled by time and distance. I try not to linger on the pain of those few years of Games and Rebellion, but the scars sometimes remind me.

I don't remember the exact answer I gave Teesa, but I know it wasn't a full one, not one that would satisfy a young girl as veracious , tenacious and as adventurous as my daughter. But it was enough for then...and she soon forgot about the topic among all the new things she began to study.

But now she's seventeen years old. She and Darrien, Jasper and Pearl, are now all 17 years old.

Over the years I have taught students about our history, about the Hunger Games and the Rebellion. It hurts of course, but the importance of it can't be ignored, or overstated. It's vital. It's imperative. To ignore history, to gloss over the pains of the past, that is to open the door to events repeating themselves, for a new generation of conflict some time in the future.

But as a mother...oh I wish I could leave my daughter in the dark about her mother and father's past. I wish the Hunger Games weren't such a spectre in our lives.

I know they need to be told...but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

"The kids are getting curious," I murmur to Cato as we walk through the crisp night air of an early spring evening.

We're heading to the train station, my bag slung over his shoulder, my arm tucked in his. Finnick is delayed at the new Council building, which stands across from the ruin of the building that was once the Hall of Justice. He'll meet me at the station, and it gives my husband and I time together, just the two of us.

At the end of the rebellion, we'd been so broken, two people who loved each other, but hurt so badly they weren't sure the jagged pieces of themselves could ever line up to fit together. Time has been kind to us, letting us rediscover each other, and grow together, and slowly become even closer than we ever were.

We're a team, parents of two beautiful girls, and happy with our lives.

Sometimes it's like all those horrible things that happened to us were just a dream…

"Of course they are," Cato sighs, and I can hear his own regret in the words, "They're smart kids, all of them. It's understandable that they'd start to suspect we've been protecting them from things."

"We have to tell them don't we?" I lean my head against his shoulder, and smile softly as his muscled arm curls around my shoulders, "I hoped this day would never come."

"I know, me too, but it was always going to. Maybe we should make Finnick tell them all, or Peeta."

"We can't make Finnick do it," I shake my head slightly, "It's hard enough even now, thinking of Annie."

For a moment, as though it were yesterday, I see her dark green eyes, and that impossibly sad but determined smile as she opened her hands to reveal the grenade. Her son has her eyes, although they are far more lively and present than hers had ever been. I'd only known her after she became a Victor, after the hammer of the Games cracked her along all her fault lines and broke her apart.

Cato nods, he also knows how hard the last seventeen years have been for Finnick. He's never really let go of Annie, can't let go of her even now. No other woman could match her in his eyes, and so he remained alone.

For all it hurts to think of another in the place Annie should have been, a part of me can't help but wish for his happiness, wish there could be another love for him, even if it isn't the great love that Annie was.

But I remember almost losing Cato. Would I have been able to open myself up to another after losing my husband, the father of my daughter?

I genuinely don't know.

"And Peeta…." Cato sighs, "You know how much I love him, he'd do it well, and properly...but these are our daughters...it should come from us...from you."

"I love how us, became you, so quickly." I roll my eyes and grin as I hear him laugh.

"You, because you're the communicator. I break the skulls, you talk sense into them, that's how this works. This isn't a skull breaking type of thing...so….you're the better one to do it."

"Coward," I sigh, because I always knew it would come down to me, "Or I could ask Deccia, or Haymitch to do it."

And I grin as Cato's laugh fills the air around us.

The train links between the Districts have undergone a massive renovation in the last 17 years. Train travel between Districts is quick, easy and comfortable, encouraging movement between the many different regions, something that the Capitol had actively discouraged, fearing collaboration and rebellion.

Now we can travel from District 4 to the Capitol in only a few hours, rather than the half a day it had once taken.

"I'll talk to the kids when I come back," I tell Cato at the station, resting my forehead against his chest, savouring his tight hug around me, "Look after yourself while I'm gone, yeah?"

"Of course," he chuckled, and the sound rumbled through me, "When have I not?"

It makes me smile even now to think of, as the train whizzes through the countryside, a book on my lap, as Finnick sits at the small desk in our compartment.

I can tell he's nervous; his fingers are combing and tugging through his hair, like they only do when he's truly frazzled, and so I get to my feet and wander over to him.

"Hey," I say softly, gripping his shoulders gently before giving them a small rub, "You okay?"

"No," he sighs, and leans back into my touches, eyes closing as he tips his head back against my stomach, "This Sponsors are a worry,"

That makes me almost pause, before I force myself to continue, "I was under the impression it wasn't that bad." although the fact that the Consuls have been called for a special meeting, did lend the emergency far more weight, even if the official word from the Capitol was dismissive of the rebel group.

"It's bad enough," Finnick looks up at me and smiles tiredly. It's been good for him, this job and position, and his popularity in the District has never been higher, because everyone knows how hard he works. But sometimes, I can see the strain, which is exactly why I am his deputy, as well as his sister, "Capitol malcontents, wanting the old ways back again.I'll never understand that..."

Five years back a group cropped up calling themselves the Sponsors. They demanded freedom and liberty for the Capitol, and a return to the prior system of government. Naturally their calls were met with outrage, and we've been watching their antics ever since with concern, because although the Districts rejected their cries for action, they have quite a lot of Capitol support. Particularly from the older generations of Capitol citizenry, who lived all those years believing in their way of life.

In the last six months their activity has shifted from a message to more aggressive marketing, with protests, rallies, and attempts to more widely broadcast their message, and now it appears that violence is on the horizon.

"You should rest," I say quietly, running my fingers through his hair and smiling as his eyes close happily at the touch, "You won't be able to solve the problems of Panem before we get to the meeting."

"But…"

"Finnick." my voice is firm, and he sighs before nodding.

When we met, many lifetimes ago, or so it seems, Finnick appeared supremely confident, charming, and at first, terrifying to a girl who'd only talked to people in the archives or at school when she had to. Then he'd been the Mentor who'd known everything, my font of all knowledge, my guide when I was floundering and lost. I had little faith in myself, so I'd trusted him completely, unreservedly, and somehow I'd come out alive. Slowly our dynamic shifted from teacher and student, to brother and sister.

And over the years since Annie, it is my turn to look after him.

The Citadel was constructed about ten years ago, a tall piercing building that cut through the Capitol skyline like a cresting wave. It's beautifully designed, with stylish interiors, and is the centre of administration for Panem. The Consuls all have offices here, and each of the Districts has a floor to liaise with the administrations across the country. Governmental departments are all housed here too, and so it's a hub of activity. Finnick and I ascend to the District 4 floor, set with a huge panoramic view of the city, and are greeted by Auralia. I can never remember her full title, it's long winded and fussy, but essentially she's an organiser, particularly of Consuls.

"Good!" she chirps, walking over to us and brushing thick sea blue hair back off her shoulder. Although the Capitol has been dialed back several notches as far as physical enhancements go, many of the residents still enjoy wigs, or hair dye, "You're on time. Here are some forms to sign Consul," she hands Finnick a small pile of documents, which he immediately passes over to me, as I glare at him "And the meeting will begin in ten minutes. You have messages as well, apparently."

She nods over at the young man behind the glassy desk, responsible for funnelling all District 4 news and messages to the appropriate place. Berius waves at us and Finnick grins back before nodding to me and heading over to collect his messages. Leaving me with the pile of paperwork.

Rolling my eyes, I head into my office, which is small, but pleasant and settle down in my chair behind my desk.

Then I open the first file and get to work.

The middle floor of the tower is where the Council chambers are, a cavernous room of glass and delicate architecture, dominated by a large round table.

I have to admit the table was my idea, drawing from those Arthurian legends that had served me so well. The concept was simple, on a round table no one could complain that they were seated at the bottom, and no one could entertain airs that they were at the top. The 14 Consuls are equal with no higher chief to try and attain ultimate power.

28 seats are set around the table, and I move around to place my things down in the second of the royal blue coloured chairs, seated in front of the District 4 sigil banner.

Around the table I see familiar faces, although a few have chosen to retire. Ria is still District 5's Consul, now with long streaks of silver through her dark hair, and lines around her blue eyes. She's still as poised as ever though, elegant in a way to be envied.

She and Lucan turned out to be unable to have children, which was hard on both of them. Cato had talked to his brother about it a few times, but that was all, both of them being private people. They'd ended up adopting, two children who'd been orphaned by the war.

Johanna had been the Consul for 7 for a few years before she quit, refusing the re-election. She's now a freelance physical trainer, travelling between the Districts and Capitol. Cato gets her in to scare the new recruits. Most of them hero worship her now.

Paylor has been the District 8 Consul since the War ended. She was a Commander in the Forces, leading our front lines. I never met her back in those days, as I was kept in District 13 until Teesa was born and then until the climax of the Battle in the Capitol. Cato met her in District 2 however, back when the Capitol was still struggling with our Resistance.

She's older now, as we all are, but she's still got that quality, that aura of command that Katniss and Cato share. She's intelligent, and brave, and is a voice of reason for the council on behalf of District 8. It was one of the most devastated Districts in the War, after District 12 and District 4, but out of all of them the most people died in that District. They lost so much, but have come far under Paylor's guidance and the assistance of the other Districts. They have taken their Textile produce to the next level, sending out clothing designers and retailers across Panem.

Chaff only served five years for District 11 before retiring. He died a few years ago, and was farewelled in a quiet ceremony and cremation outside the wheatfields.

Most of the representatives are new, none of them career politicians. We are reimbursed for our work, paid a wage common with the Panem average, so it lacks the glitz and glamour that might draw more corrupt individuals to these seats.

I look up in time to see Katniss and Haymitch walking over to us and I grin at them, always happy for the chance to see the two of them.

Katniss has matured into a beautiful woman, looking healthier now than she had back when I first knew her. Her dark hair is twisted back elegantly, but simply, and as always she refuses to wear any makeup, although those striking grey eyes don't need the extra adornment.

She and Gale parted ways about ten years ago, after having a child together, the split being tense but reasonably amicable. Both of them knew they'd come to the end of the road, and the separation had been more of a formality than a surprise. Rose is around 12 years old now, and is a determined little soul, serious and clever.

Haymitch and Deccia are still together, with five rambunctious children. The eldest is Theo, who is just a little older than my Hazel, and he often visits, getting along brilliantly with Jasper. He too is an athlete, although his smart mouth and sarcastic humour get him into trouble. He's followed by Pia, Arias and May, who we suspect may owe her name to the girl from 12 Haymitch lost during his Hunger Games, and finally Isabella.

The last 17 years have only done Haymitch good, softening him from the on edge, drunk and sour, soul who'd despaired of the world ever changing, to a sarcastic, dry tongued planner, whose bargaining skills had earned District 12 quite a lot of respect.

"Good to see this meeting has dragged District 4 away from its sunbathing," Haymitch drawls after the hugging and greetings have subsided, "You two look so relaxed."

I glance at Finnick, whose eyes are still shadowed from his late night, and then back at him, knowing I must look as awful as I feel. I too hadn't slept very well, worrying about telling the kids about the Games.

"As always you could charm a pearl from the tightest clam, Haymitch," Finnick's response is dry, but he's grinning as he steps forward to hug the other former Victor. I give Katniss a small hug as well before kissing Haymitch's cheek.

"Hello Haymitch, how's the family?"

"A pain in my ass."

"So normal then?" Finnick laughs, before lifting Katniss' hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against the back of it, "As always you are a drink of water in a desert drear, dearest Katniss."

Haymitch rolls his eyes, and I cover my grin as Katniss flushes and tries to extricate her hand, as always flustered by his purposely heavy handed compliments.

Finnick grins and lets go of her hand, even as she glares at him.

It's a game between them. A competition.

Finnick almost always wins...and it drives her crazy.

"How's Peeta?" Haymitch asks me, as Finnick and Katniss start talking, bronze and dark heads bowed close together as they discussed, "It's been a while since I visited District 4, I've got a craving for his baking."

"He's well, and the most popular baker in 4." I smile as I think of my adoptive brother's accomplishments, "He was able to renovate a few months ago, the bakery is huge now, and incredible."

"We'll have to head over soon then." He cocks his head, "And how are your girls?"

"They're well." I hesitate before admitting, "They...uh...have started asking questions, about the Games."

Haymitch's face sobers, and he shakes his head, "I'm not rightly looking forward to that conversation myself one day." he sighs, "Deccia says we should send them to you, to learn."

"Oh gee thanks!"

He grins, "You're the storyteller, I'm sure you won't make us sound like the loons we rightly were."

"I'm dreading it...have to start explaining when I get back."

He grips my shoulder and squeezes sympathetically, "Good luck with that…"

"Thanks," I smile weakly and look over to see sea green and grey eyes watching us. Katniss is frowning slightly and Finnick has that look, that distant, sad expression that I know is him feeling guilty when he thinks he's been relying on me too much.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would take your seats?" the Consul from 1 calls, and we all look up, "The meeting is about to begin."

"See you after," Haymitch nods at us and heads around the table. I'm about to take my seat when Katniss grips my arm gently.

"Come talk to me after?" she murmurs, grey eyes meeting mine, "I think we have a few things to discuss."

I nod, and she heads off to her seat as the lights dim and the meeting gets underway.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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