(A/N): And we're back with our Tuesday update! This time, we're bringing back Kaldur from District Four, written as always by robbiepoo2341.
Thanks to all of our writers who reviewed during Miran week ;) The love and support you all show is wonderful! Thanks also to Slim Summers2002 for your review. Your comments literally always make us smile!
Chapter Thirty-Six - Time and Tide
Interviews for Districts One through Four
Kaldur Ahm of District Four
Written by robbiepoo2341
Words are singularly the most powerful force available to humanity. - Yehuda Berg
In the partitioned area just off the stage where tributes waited to be called up for their turn vying for the Capitol's attention, dressed like little china dolls as if to accentuate their fragility, the noise level had progressed to a nearly constant thrum of frenetic energy.
But in the inches of space between Kaldur and his district partner, the silence was somehow louder than all the whispered instructions, all the rushed prep work the stylists were putting into last-minute changes, all the chatting back and forth between the other tributes who had managed to form friendships even in their short time there.
Kaldur did not regret anything he had said to Diana, and so he would not apologize. And she, proud daughter of Hippolyta, would never apologize to him either. So they found themselves with the inches screaming with silence in spite of the growing noise around them, and Kaldur deeply missed the quiet peacefulness of the ocean.
It was a different kind of quiet — not silence, never silence. The tides, the movement of the ocean in its constant state of change were never silent. But all the same, it was quiet. Here, in the Capitol, it was electric, desperate, constant movement — not steady like the tides but disparate, fleeting, like fish scattered by an approaching shark.
He let his gaze rake over the other children being offered up as sacrifices in these Games, the now too-familiar heat rising up in his chest as he did so. Some of them were young — he could see both the Six and the Seven boy chatting with the small, green boy from Ten, who looked wide-eyed even as the girl from Nine joined the two older boys with attempted comfort of her own, a gentle hand on his shoulder ahead of this latest public humiliation.
On the other hand, some of these so-called children were the sharks scattering the minnows — Jack in particular, who fancied himself a leader when he could not even lead his own mind to sanity. The only ones who followed him were either desperate or themselves insane.
The prep assistants called out the warning that the charlatan show would begin soon, and the busy thrum reduced itself to a gentle, constant, hurried whisper — still present, but much softer, though that somehow made it more pronounced.
And then, all at once, it was a roar, like a wave crashing down on the shore as the Capitolites on the other side of the partition burst into screams of passion, cheering the interviewer, Tanaleer Tivan, as he arrived to take in their adulation, soaking it in the way his too-pale skin could never soak in sunlight.
As the screams threatened to overtake all the waiting tributes' other senses, Kaldur glanced surreptitiously toward the chair nearest the stage, where the youngest of the so-called Career district tributes was leaning forward in anticipation, her face a mask of something akin to determination if it wasn't also marred by both anger and terror.
The Careers were a shambles — they had been from the start. Abandoning the usual protocol of pre-selected warriors from training backgrounds had truly not done the Capitol any favors in that regard. These children were a combination of ruthless and reckless and dangerous that Kaldur frankly did not want any part of, though he couldn't help but keep an eye on them. Had things gone differently, these would have been his allies, and although Kaldur made it a point not to dwell too much on the past or on possibilities that were lost, he was curious all the same.
He had made it clear what his feelings were on the subject of alliances, but that did not preclude him from watching those that, had this been any other Games, would have been at his side in the arena. Curiosity was no hypocrisy, no sin.
What's done is done, and what is, is. This was what his queen had taught him since he was old enough to drink from her wisdom. And yet he couldn't help but also think, And what could have been is best held to the light to examine and be grateful for your escape.
Thea Queen was ushered toward the stage and met with raucous applause — of course she was; she was the first tribute the crowd had seen, and she was so young and innocent. At least, to their eyes.
The cheering and wolf whistles had Kaldur biting his tongue to keep his anger in check, and he glanced over for something else to focus on that was not the Capitol cheering madly for a young, beautiful child who would likely be dead before the week was out.
His gaze found the girl from Two — Harper — and when she caught it, she tipped her head his way and made a face. She had clearly (and loudly) lost her battle with her stylists, and even without a diver's eye for detail, Kaldur could see that she was uncomfortable in her own clothes. He nodded to her, a silent acknowledgement, and more obviously adjusted the sleeves of his suit. He didn't like the clothes they were forced to wear, either — the sleeves were unwieldy, and he was used to either no sleeves at all or at least tightly-fitted diving suits that stretched with his movements rather than encapsulating him in their stifling grasp.
Besides, the sleeves hid the long and winding tattoos that snaked their way from his wrists to his shoulders, the tattoos that he'd gotten when he started to study under Queen Mera, as a mark of his devotion.
He wondered if the Capitol knew the hidden meaning behind those tattoos. They could not stand any show of devotion to anyone but themselves, after all.
He traced the outline of the beginning of his tattoos with one hand, thinking of the heat just beneath his breastbone. It was the one thing he had managed to find in common with the girl who, in a different setting, would have been his ally had he not left the now-corrupted Careers to the inane leadership of Jack and his simpering followers.
Kaldur saw very little point in going through the stations. He did, of course, go through them, because Odin had requested it of him. While the old man knew as well as he did that Kaldur was a dead man walking, a symbolic sacrifice because of his devotion to Four, Odin had insisted that, at the very least, Kaldur should not go down without a fight.
Kaldur did not take orders from the All-Father, but he did take his advice to heart, especially when he saw that there was genuine concern in the request.
He was sitting on the outskirts of the traps station, then, only half listening to the trainer give tips on nets. Nets. As if Kaldur needed any help in that regard. He'd known how to make and mend nets at nearly the same age he learned to walk.
At the very least, he could use his expertise to help the others. So many of these children had no idea of the larger games afoot — the least he could do was spend his time helping. Odin's advice was not to focus on the lambs, but he had also said that these Games were about power. And what better way to upset that power than to aid the powerless?
Not an alliance. Never an alliance. He could not bear the thought of an alliance with these children when they were going to a slaughter. How could he lie to them and tell them he would protect them when, in the arena, there were no guarantees?
No, better to aid in the shadows, let them play their smaller games, and keep an eye on the powerless. Should the time arise, he would stand in their defense. But he would not ally with them and raise false hopes. Nor would he ask any of them to bear the burden of the target on his own shoulders. He would not bring destruction down on their heads the way the Capitol had done.
He let his gaze slide over the tributes, not only the younger ones sitting in rapt attention and desperately trying to drink in anything that could help them survive a little longer — he could not let his gaze linger on them too long or he would risk his temper boiling over, and he'd already lost it once with Diana — but also to the older ones. The boys from One and Seven showing off for each other, as if this was an actual game in practice as well as in name. The girls from Eight and Eleven giggling together as they approached Seven's girl to get her attention. He felt his chest tighten. Some of these children didn't understand, and he saw no way to show them in the short time they had.… Perhaps it was better for them that they were ignorant to the blazing injustice of it all.
Finally, his gaze found the girl from Two, her arms crossed and her expression defiant as she had clearly set herself apart from the others in training. The expression on its own was intriguing, but more than that, this was not the first time he had seen Harper Row refuse to participate. There had to be a reason.
He was well-aware of the fact that this was one of Jack's little simpletons, and yet wasn't the point of his participation in the Games a gesture of solidarity, of strength against the Capitol? Perhaps a gesture of goodwill would go far. Perhaps he could even turn her from the folly of following that maniac who would burn the world just to watch the flames.
And if nothing else, it was wise to learn as much as he could of his soon-to-be enemies.
"If you had trained at the centers, I would say you have no need of these lessons," Kaldur said as he approached the girl. "And yet…"
"I don't want them," Harper replied with fire in her tone as she turned to face him, and he was surprised to see a strikingly familiar anger in her gaze. "It's stupid. No one's gonna learn how to kill people in four days flat. The only thing they're going to learn is how to get so sore trying that you die early in the bloodbath. Or paint a target on your back — not that I need any help there."
Kaldur raised an eyebrow.
When Harper saw it, she nearly sneered. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot. I know what the problem is here. I don't go to those training centers. I don't play their stupid games the way I'm supposed to."
"You have no love for the Capitol, then," Kaldur finished for her before she could get too worked up. Truly, if there was ever a nearly literal interpretation of sparks flying — this girl was its embodiment.
"At all," Harper agreed.
Kaldur watched her for a long moment before he took in a breath. "Then we have something in common," he said, so quietly and softly, hardly moving his lips, that he was sure the eyes of the Capitol would not catch it.
At that, Harper turned to face him with an impish sort of light to her gaze as it raked over him. "Alright then, Four," she said at last, an almost approving smile turning up the corners of her lips. "At least someone around here knows what's up."
Kaldur smirked. "It is not hard to see the Capitol's machinations, but some are willfully blind."
Harper waved her hand at him. "Yeah, sure. All I know is — screw them, am I right?"
He couldn't help but laugh at that as he nodded. "Yes."
Kaldur was brought out of his thoughts not by the noise of the crowd but by its absence — as they finally quieted down to listen to the interview conducted between Tivan and one of the youngest tributes that year.
He hardly knew the girl — after that disastrous first night, the only Career he truly knew was Harper, as even Diana was distant from him now — but he couldn't help but feel a rush of pride when he saw the look in her eyes as Tivan put on his most sympathetic expression, reaching over to pat her knee in consolation as he brought up the topic on most people's minds: that she was the youngest tribute from One in the history of the Games.
Tivan preened and fretted over it, but Kaldur could see the glint behind his eyes. This skinny girl was history in the making, no matter her age, and Tivan knew it.
"And of course, we're all wondering — do you feel prepared to take on so many tributes that are older and bigger than you?" Tivan asked.
Kaldur's own anger was reflected in the flash of Thea's gaze as she thrust her chin out. "Bigger doesn't always mean stronger."
Good answer, Kaldur thought, a smile flirting with the edge of his mouth despite himself. He had seen in that first — and last — Career meeting that there was more to the Queen girl than a family name and her history-making age. She and Diana would get along, he thought almost fondly before he remembered that his stubborn, arrogant partner had her head stuck too far up her precious family honor to see the forest for the trees.
He glanced toward Diana, who was wearing a pleased little smirk at Thea's response, and he almost chuckled. Of course, he thought. A strong woman — Diana would approve nonetheless.
Tivan pressed Thea on a few other points: on her family name, her upbringing, and whether such a "young, rich thing" like herself — Thea glared at the descriptor of "thing" — would be able to make it far.
Finally, Thea seemed to be done with his probing and leaned forward with danger that Kaldur had not seen before dripping off of her lips like seawater. "Don't worry about me," she said, her voice low and deadly. "I plan to do whatever it takes to survive."
Tivan seemed delighted by her answer — or perhaps by the unexpected danger; it was hard to tell — before he took her hand and presented her to the crowd, which roared its approval of the girl in a fiery red dress that seemed to match her passion.
Thea Queen made her way back to her seat with relief dripping off her shoulders, and Kaldur would have nodded his approval to Thea or even offered a word of encouragement — she had done well — but her district partner was already there as he passed her on his way to his own interview. If Kaldur had not been watching, he would have missed the brief touch, a hand on Thea's shoulder, but he saw it nonetheless.
He knew that the much older tribute had taken it upon himself to take care of his partner. It was not hard to see, if you knew how to look. It was in the set of the boy's jaw when he saw any of Jack's crew look toward her. It was in the quiet way he watched and seemed to gravitate toward those few that took the smaller tributes under their wings. His competition with the Seven boy was proof enough of that. It was friendly, not truly competitive. Almost investigative.
It was hard to see, especially because the boy was so quiet. But the signs were there.
After all, Kaldur, too, was quiet, watchful, ever cognizant of those that were blind — either willfully or otherwise — as well as those who knew better. Slade Wilson was of the latter group.
When the boy from One stepped out onto the stage, he briefly touched two fingers to his temple in a salute, and Kaldur had to wonder if it was a tribute to something deeper, the way he and Diana had both shown deference to different aspects of Four in their own salutes. He had never seen the gesture before from One, but then, he did not know their customs. For a moment, Kaldur cursed his ignorance of the other districts — yet another thing that the Capitol had taken from them. How could they understand one another with such basic barriers between them?
Slade sat easily across from Tivan, in posture and ease every bit the man's equal, perhaps moreso. He seemed entirely unconcerned as Tivan tried to pry from him something more personal. Family, friends, lovers… "Surely there must be someone back home you'd like to say hello to."
"I already said my piece once, in private," Slade said in a tone that could be mistaken for emotional if not for the sharp edges.
This is a man who knows the value of words, Kaldur thought and tucked that observation away for later. He might need it, if he survived for any appreciable length of time, if nothing else to keep from being murdered needlessly by Slade's hand.
Tivan's smile did not falter, but if you knew where to look, if you had a diver's eye, you could see the glint of triumph flicker to an ember in an instant as Tivan, too, realized that Slade knew how to play his games.
The interviewer changed tactics, then, from a more personal line of questioning to one that instead focused on strategy, on death and the Games, though the violence itself was glossed over for the sake of the audience, as if their palates were not already wet for the blood of children, as if the next morning would not bring with it the final cries of innocents.
"You're an intelligent young man. Surely you've worked out a strategy for these Games," Tivan prompted, trying to draw more from the young man in front of him than the non-answers he had been getting thus far.
Slade leaned forward with a smirk playing at his expression as he finally gave Tivan what could be considered an interesting answer. "That's between myself and Oliver Queen."
Kaldur could see a few heads in the crowd of tributes turn toward the young girl in the District One seat, her face briefly as red as her dress before she schooled her expression. Tivan, too, was intimately and suddenly intrigued, leaning forward with bright eyes. "Isn't that the name of your district partner's older brother?"
"Correct," was the simple response from Slade.
But if Tivan had hoped for more from One's boy, he was sorely mistaken, as the boy fell silent again, and finally, the interviewer had to admit defeat and brought the interaction to a close. Kaldur couldn't help but smirk all the way through Tivan's final introduction of Slade to the crowd as it was clear the white-haired interviewer was at a loss as to how to play up an angle.
It's so much harder when we aren't puppets, isn't it? Kaldur thought with eyes narrowed, though he was sure to turn his expression into something more neutral and incline his head toward Slade in a silent acknowledgement as the boy came backstage. He had done well. Better than his partner, though the five years between them likely helped.
Harper was up next for her interview, and Kaldur pulled his attention from the pair of Ones so that he could catch her eye for a moment. She shot him a little secret smile that he couldn't help but return, still remembering the last words they'd spoken to each other — in private, after the assessments.
"Find me during the Games. We'll give the Capitol a show they'll never forget."
He grinned to himself as he fiddled with the sleeves of his suit. He knew it was likely folly to work, even temporarily, with one of Jack's ilk, but her anger, her passion — he would much rather help her to give the Capitol one more black eye before he died than ignore the chance. He had no illusions about surviving these Games, and he had no illusions about alliances.
He and Harper had a shared goal, a statement to make, and then they would part ways. He would not trust her, not one of Jack's dogs, nor would he promise protection he could not even guarantee himself. But he would, for a brief instant in the Games, help her. This was no alliance. It was, in Harper's words, a middle finger to the people in charge of this whole mess. And then he would leave her to Jack's insanity, if she was still so content to let him lead her.
He and Harper shared a talent for electricity and traps. It was not something Kaldur used often, being a diver, but he had always been interested in the raw power of nature, even that which was bottled by an inventor's wire. And Harper had years of work under her belt in that regard. But more helpfully, Kaldur had years of netting, of trapping, of outthinking the very tides themselves — and that was what they needed in order to turn the Capitol's own machinations against them.
It was risky. One wrong turn could kill either of them. But the moment Kaldur had bowed to Odin, he was dead all the same. The Capitol would not allow him to win. If he was not killed by another tribute, they would send mutts after him. Fires. Natural disasters. They could not have a victor who bowed to the All-Father.
So, Kaldur reasoned, why not risk life and limb for a statement? After all, that's all the Games were — a statement.
Now, the only question was whether they could meet in the Games or if the tides of fate would pull them elsewhere. The gods could turn even the best of plans to nothing more than seafoam if they chose, after all. And he would not risk life and limb for such insubstantial pittance if their plans were reduced to such.
Kaldur almost laughed to himself as he pulled his thoughts back to the present and watched the girl on the stage suffer through Tivan's introduction, his wide-armed displays and his too-loud laughter. She spent little energy on addressing the crowd and instead simply tried to sit so that the electric blue dress didn't catch on anything, but it was a losing battle — one that clearly occupied more of her attention than the inane questions Tivan shot her way.
"And you have a brother, don't you?" Tivan prodded, and Kaldur felt a pang of sympathy as Harper's head came up. It was unlikely that she had been unprepared for the question — surely her mentor had done as Odin had and explained the possible questions Tivan would address — but her temporary battle with her dress had distracted her attention from the sharks in the water.
"Uh… yeah," she said belatedly before something like a laugh played with her voice. "He's a pain."
"I'm sure he's watching you now."
"And critiquing my posture," Harper grumbled, and she seemed genuinely surprised when the audience laughed. She glanced out at the assembled Capitolites, and Kaldur could see the cogs turn just behind her eyes before she leaned back into her chair, arms crossed.
Kaldur could hear her stylist's whispered invectives even from where he was sitting.
Truth be told, Tivan got very little after that from her interview. There was one shining moment when she bit out a scathing response to his question about her training — "Like anyone here is any good for helping me get through this stupid thing." — but it wasn't long before Tivan clearly tired of having to fight for even the smallest of answers, especially after Slade Wilson's similarly short responses, and presented her to the crowd rather than fight any longer.
Kaldur shot Harper a little smile upon her return, and she simply nodded his way as her district partner pushed his way to the stage with pretended swagger that would have fooled no one, especially given the way he kept himself angled against the lights, the cameras, the hide his scars.
The boy was two-faced in so many ways, and he was fooling no one but the dithering masses.
Although Harvey was turned so as to hide the worst of his visage from view, it was not hidden from Tivan, and Kaldur could see in the man's expression that he was not pleased to be so close to the disfigured boy from Two. Likely Tivan subscribed to the notion that beauty was of utmost importance in determining how much attention was owed a person, and it was clear in the set of his body language that the white-haired man had made his decision about Harvey already.
Still, there was a show, a display, necessary for the Capitol audience, and Tivan's smile was all teeth and flash as he welcomed Harvey to the stage.
For his part, Harvey was parading just as much of an empty charade as Tivan was — his good side facing the audience and a smile that Kaldur knew was a lie. He had seen the calculating menace, the lust, the tendency to fall to the worst of man's proclivities, even in that first night on the roof. No polite smile and eager handshake would be able to scrub from Kaldur's mind the ugliness that existed below his skin. Had Harvey been whole, he still would have been scarred.
The interview started off with Harvey almost jocular, the very picture of what a Career interview should be. Kaldur could see Harvey's mentor, Tony Masters, further off to the side with a look of intensity on his face that the other mentors had not yet matched, nodding approvingly to a few of Harvey's answers about the basics, such as the names of a few friends back home.
"Now, I'm sure you get this question a lot," Tivan said in a tone that would have been gentle to less sensitive ears, "but what happened to give you your… distinctive scars?"
As Kaldur watched, Harvey hesitated over his answer, and Kaldur spotted just the flash of something silver that the boy was fiddling with in his lap. Harvey kept glancing down, and Kaldur could see a different kind of flash, this one of anger, in his mentor's expression because of the long, awkward pause.
"It was an accident," Harvey said at last. "There was an explosion."
Tivan's expression of sympathy fooled absolutely no one. "I'm truly sorry to hear it. To have an accident like that… and to lose your mother when you're still so young..."
"No, you're not," Harvey said after a moment's fiddling with whatever was in his lap, and Kaldur could swear that Masters was a step away from crossing to the stage himself — the man was far more entertaining to watch than anything happening onstage. And then Harvey lifted his gaze, and Kaldur recognized that same savage grin that he had seen before in meeting with the Careers — the hungry, desperate light.
"You see, Tanaleer," Harvey said in a voice that was so different from the one he had been using before that several of the other tributes were sitting up a little straighter, taking closer notice, "you don't want a flighty little bird of a victor. You want someone who understands pain."
There was a deadly kind of silence after Harvey's comments before the boy seemed to blink, take a breath, and said, "I can survive anything you throw at me."
Kaldur glanced around at the other tributes, more interested in their reactions than in the dithering that Tivan was doing in an attempt to get better control of the interview after he had clearly been thrown by Harvey's sudden change in character. A few of the non-Career tributes were shifting in sudden discomfort, though it seemed like Jack was pleased with how his little packmate was performing.
That is, until Harley muttered loud enough for the rest of the tributes to hear, "Gee, someone's noggin's cracked wide open, ain't it, Mistah J?"
Kaldur hid his smile and looked toward Diana instead, who was watching the way Jack glowered at his district partner with her lips pressed into the thinnest line Kaldur had ever seen. She caught him glancing her way, pressed her lips even tighter, and let out a hum of displeasure before the silence once more permeated the space between them.
He sighed, a slight break to the oppressive sound of the space between the two chairs for the Four tributes, and turned his attention back to the interview as it came to a close rather than dwell too long on the lingering hurt that clung to both of them.
Tivan seemed only too ready to get Harvey off of his stage, and Kaldur felt almost sorry for the girl from Three as she skirted around Harvey on her way up for the next interview, clearly avoiding the mentally unbalanced young man. Harvey himself was almost wincing Masters' way — at least he realized that he had strayed from his mentor's instructions, then. He was insane, but not a simpleton.
Dangerous, was the word in Kaldur's mind.
Powerful was the second, though he looked more toward the sharp smile of Jack Hamill clapping a hand on his ally's back when he thought it.
Caitlin, the girl from Three, looked incredibly nervous as she sat down across from Tivan, one hand covering the other in a tight grip, as if she was holding on for her very life. Tivan seemed to notice that as well, and his smile turned oily as he offered his hand to Caitlin for her to shake as he introduced himself and welcomed her to the stage.
"It's a delight to have you here, Ms. Snow," Tivan said, holding her hand for far longer than Kaldur thought was necessary. The interviewer laughed as his gaze raked over the clearly uncomfortable girl. "I see your stylist is playing with your name. A Snow in snow-white!"
Caitlin finally extricated her hand from Tivan's grasp and put it back down over her other hand. "Yes, I guess it's a play on words," she said.
Tivan's smile just widened. "It's a brilliant choice. A memorable one," he said. "But — and I hope you'll forgive me here — I couldn't help but notice your beautiful accessory. The red truly adds a punch of color."
Caitlin looked uncomfortable, and Kaldur saw her tighten her hands together. He could feel Diana gripping her seat next to him in barely restrained anger and wondered briefly if his district partner knew what was coming as the blonde on the stage caved under the knowing gaze of Tanaleer Tivan and slowly moved her hands so that the cameras could see the brilliant red ring she was wearing.
Tivan leaned forward hungrily, and Diana leaned forward in anger.
"Now, my dear," Tivan said, and Kaldur saw the way Caitlin drew back at the tone he was using. "That doesn't look like a stylist's choice. Am I to take it that this is your token?"
"Yes," Caitlin said shortly, drawing back further still.
"And who," Tivan asked, pausing for dramatic effect, "gave it to you?"
It was clear that Caitlin wasn't comfortable with the question, and she looked around the stage as if the audience or the cameras would give her reprieve. Kaldur could see Caitlin's district partner with a perfectly open expression, watching the entire interview on the edge of his seat and barely breathing, and he recalled vaguely hearing — somewhere — that the two were friends before they were even drawn for the Games.
"A friend," Caitlin said at last, and Tivan leaned nearly out of his chair eagerly, his smile in her space and his hands reaching out as if he wanted to take Caitlin's again..
"Now, now, Ms. Snow. We're all friends here," he said, gesturing to encompass the gathered audience with one arm thrown out. "You must be more than just 'friends' to have such an exquisite ring."
Caitlin shifted.
"Come now, what's his name?" Tivan pressed eagerly.
Caitlin shook her head, looking even more uncomfortable than before. "Can't we talk about something else?" she finally asked, and Tivan, disappointed, leaned back in his chair — though he did, at least, move on.
"I've seen less bloodlust in the eyes of sharks," Kaldur muttered, and he didn't realize he'd said it aloud until Diana let out a little sound of agreement that surprised him into looking her way.
She met his gaze for a moment before she simply shrugged. "Even a fool can see evil when it is on display," she told him, and he almost laughed that those were the first words she had said to him in some time.
Diana smirked, and the silence between them rang with something more akin to familiarity for the remainder of Caitlin's interview, though Kaldur noted with interest the way Diana concerned herself with Caitlin's welfare, reaching over to give the girl's shoulder a squeeze over the empty seat that Cisco Ramon had vacated when he stood for his turn.
Kaldur watched the silent understanding, the support that passed between the two young women even as Tivan introduced the boy from Three to the stage. Hippolyta's daughters know how to do one thing well, and that is support each other, he recalled Queen Mera telling him once — a lesson in unity, in trust.
He disagreed vehemently with his district partner. She was too caught up in her pettiness to understand the war they were facing, and she was headstrong, demanding respect and subservience that she had not yet earned. But he could stand with her in things like this, in defiance of the Capitol's cruelties, the way he stood with her in leaving the Career pack.
She was not always wrong, after all. Even he could admit that.
Kaldur finally turned his attention from his district partner and back to the interviews as Tivan asked of Three's boy the same question he felt compelled to ask everyone in the Quarter Quell: "What do you think inspired your victors to choose you?"
It was a question that, surely, every child there knew he or she would have to answer sooner or later, so Kaldur was surprised to see that the nearly benign question was the first to elicit a response that looked like anger on a boy who seemed so earnestly kind that it took Kaldur aback.
It was only a fleeting expression, though, and then the boy stuttered out a response, "Oh — I guess — it's probably because I'm top of my class."
Tivan smiled the kindly sort of smile that Kaldur had seen on the faces of stylists and trainers when they thought that the children they had already marked for death could not see them. "So you think you have an edge with your education?"
"I… guess, yeah," Cisco replied haltingly. "Yeah, that's it."
"And what is it that you can do, exactly?" Tivan asked bluntly. There was no need to tiptoe around someone he so clearly thought was an easy mark and early death.
Cisco looked up and met the shark's eyes. "Well, I'm pretty good with engineering." He paused and allowed a slow smile to spread over his face. "Actually, I'm more than pretty good. I'm the best at it at school."
Tivan's interests were clearly piqued at that. "So — another Tony Stark, perhaps? Do you think you could last as long as your predecessor?"
"Maybe," Cisco said, looking far braver than he had any right to be.
As Tivan questioned the young man on his engineering credentials — the details of which, admittedly, were far over Kaldur's head and slipped through his mind like sand through his fingers — Kaldur glanced once more to Diana, who would be next after Cisco. He could tell that she was already squaring her shoulders, prepared for verbal combat. Even she knew that the interview was a battle to be won, and the closer Cisco's interview drew to the end, the more imperious her gaze grew, until he could see Hippolyta, not Diana.
When the applause rang out and Tivan presented Cisco to the crowd, Kaldur felt he could not hold his tongue, and as Diana stood, he reached out. He didn't touch her, but the motion stopped her.
"The sharks are no match for a sharp spear and a good aim," he told her, and she raised a single eyebrow at the Atlantean phrase before she turned on her heel to face Tivan herself. He wondered briefly if he should have bothered. She was no Atlantean, and she was no friend to him. She had made that entirely clear.
Queen Mera would hang me by my toes from the nearest palm tree if I was not at least cordial, the answer rang in his head, and he nodded to himself.
When Tivan presented Diana to the crowd, her head was high, her chin up, and Kaldur had to admire the way she took the adulation as if it was only her due. Hippolyta had trained her daughter well, if nothing else, and she was the very picture of a matriarch as she sat down across from the colorfully-dressed interviewer, showing her disdain not through her words but in the way that she seated herself.
"First a Queen and now a Prince," Tivan chuckled, getting a few little laughs out of the audience. "We really are surrounded by royalty this year."
If Tivan had expected Diana to say something about Thea — and surely, that was where he was leading — he was disappointed as Diana simply inclined her head his way and smirked. "Yes, you certainly are."
Tivan seemed to lean in a little more, hold himself up a little taller as he switched from the easy engagement that the Threes had been to this new quarry. Hunting, Kaldur thought as he saw the movement — he had seen it often enough.
"Now, Miss Prince, you come from a district of warriors," Tivan said with a knowing smile. "Do you think that will give you the edge you need to win, especially in a year where the rules are so different from previous years in choosing tributes?"
Diana raised an eyebrow, and her entire expression conveyed just how ridiculous she thought the question was. "I need no edge," she said, sounding perfectly insulted.
Tivan laughed delightedly at her reaction, clapping his hands together as his white smile reflected somehow as black as the eyes of a feeding shark. "Oh, I certainly hope not," Tivan said, still perfectly happy. "It's been some time since we've had a female victor. Since Bobbi Morse a few years ago, actually."
"Not too long ago," Diana corrected him, frowning at his words. "It's no rare thing for women to be warriors."
"Of course not," Tivan said consolingly before he added, "but it is rare for them to be victors."
Diana's eyes flashed. "It's a shame," she said, her words as measured as her smile, "that your worldview is so limited only by the results of the Games and not the feats. I've found it's not always the winners that are champions, that hold their honor, that deserve praise."
"We'll have to disagree there, then," Tivan said with pure amusement in his tone. "The whole point of the Games is to win, my dear."
She studied him through narrowed eyes, her head tipped to the side. "I simply take issue with the idea that only the strong and brutal are worth mentioning."
"Oh, of course," Tivan said, nodding along to words he did not mean at all.
"My mother—"
"Hippolyta, right?" Tivan broke in with such a predatory smile that Kaldur found himself leaning forward nearly out of his seat — and he wasn't the only one. Just two seats over, the boy from Five had suddenly taken notice, and Kaldur would have met his gaze in solidarity if he were not so focused on the shark in the interviewer's chair in front of his district partner.
Fool she might have been, but he did not want her eaten alive.
Diana regarded Tivan carefully. "Yes," she said.
"It's so lovely to meet one of Hippolyta's own," Tivan said with a false smile. "Especially after meeting two of Odin's sons." He leaned forward. "Tell me, how are the fish in Four these days?"
Kaldur felt his jaw clench in time with Diana's. No one outside of children of Four could know what the treacherous leech spoke of, but Kaldur could remember the stormclouds of war, the desperate disagreements and fighting that had only cemented the hatred between the great families of Four the year the fish were scarce from their shores. Each family had called it a curse of their appointed gods, but as to how to address it… there had been disagreement. Loud, explosive disagreement.
Hippolyta had lost that day — lost face, lost power.
Kaldur glared at the stage, the anger crackling below his skin like electricity as he listened to Diana blurt her defense of her mother. Tivan had no right to speak of things he had no hand in, but there he was, undermining the Prince family for the whole country to see.
These Games are about power, Odin had told him, and he could see it in every tiny aspect, now that he knew to look for it.
Kaldur wasn't surprised to see that, by the time the interview was over, Diana had regained her imperious, regal poise, but as she left the stage, the best description that Kaldur could think of for her exit was a storm, her eyes blazing as she passed him with a hissed out, "Watch yourself," his way that was almost encouragement.
He nodded to her and then stepped out into the stage, blinded temporarily by the lights, deafened by the noise of the crowd. It was deliberately disorienting, but Kaldur remembered Odin's whispered instructions and did not raise his hands to shield against the light — or to acknowledge the crowd in any way.
When he had adjusted to the overly bright and colorful settings, Kaldur made his way to where Tivan was waiting for him, an eel hidden in his cave. His smile was too wide, but up close, Kaldur saw that Tivan was in no way trying to hide his disgust for the diver in front of him.
And why would he? I am among the lowest of Atlanteans, and I pledge my loyalty to my district over the Capitol. A wayward serf stepping out of his confines — I am what he despises.
"Welcome to the Capitol, Kaldur," Tivan said once the crowd had quieted, not bothering with anything like a title, not even "mister." There was no proffered handshake, either, and Kaldur sat with his back straight and his gaze aflame.
"It's not welcome that you wish to give me," Kaldur replied evenly.
Tivan's eyes tightened around the edges, and Kaldur almost smirked. The man was constrained by the rules of the game — the show he was supposed to put on — but Kaldur had no such limitations. "Straight to the point, aren't you?" Tivan asked with gleaming eyes. "It sounds like you can't wait to get out there and into the arena."
"I'm sure it sounds that way to you," Kaldur said. "Though the only thing I am looking forward to is a relief from the sea snakes with impotent venom and no bite." He made sure to meet Tivan's gaze as he said it, and he took satisfaction in the way Tivan's hands clenched.
"I understand you're a diver," Tivan's mouth said while his gaze looked to the clock above one of the cameras. Kaldur wondered if he was calculating how quickly he could move on from this interview.
"Yes," Kaldur said, allowing himself an actual smile.
"Won't you tell our viewers about that? I'm sure the ocean is lovely to someone who spends so much time there."
Kaldur smirked at the path of the interview. The path of least resistance, of least substance. No doubt Tivan hoped he would rise to it, speak of the ocean, and for a moment, Kaldur was tempted. He loved the sea more than he loved most things... but he had never been one to take the easiest coves, the safest paths.
"We call it Atlantis," he said, and he could see the immediate regret in Tivan's eyes. "The underwater kingdom — its glory untouched by these gilded halls, ruled by my king, Arth—"
"That's a beautiful fantasy," Tivan interrupted. "I've heard the people in Four talk about their legends." He plowed forward to try to keep Kaldur from saying anything further. "But tell me, why do you think you, a diver and not a warrior, were chosen for these Games?"
It was the same question so many others had answered. From Thea's "because I can win" to Diana's "I'm sure Odin knows his reasons" and everything in between, Kaldur could taste their answers on his own lips like sea salt as he turned purposefully away from Tivan to find Odin in the crowd of victors seated offstage watching the proceedings.
Even at just his motion, Kaldur could see Tivan signal to someone in the prep crew, likely to end matters if he tried such a gesture as a bow, so he spoke his mind quickly. "It is because I understand power, and I understand who deserves it."
"Well, thank you for your insights," Tivan said, already standing with a flash in his tone and his gaze. "Kaldur Ahm, ladies and gentleman," he said with one arm outstretched in what would have been a sweeping gesture if he hadn't 'accidentally' caught the corner of Kaldur's shoulder to all but push him toward the exit.
Frail is the kingdom that fears words, Kaldur thought with a smirk as he clasped a closed fist to his chest in the direction of the cameras — a final salute to his king and queen in Four, though he was certain they would never see it, as the Capitol would likely edit it out. Ah well.
He could hear the prep assistants hissing at him for messing up the schedule as they hustled Five's girl forward, but Kaldur ignored them as he sat down beside Diana and gave her a little nod. He had no illusions that anything he said would reach the districts, but he would have been a fool not to speak his mind when he was a dead man either way.
Diana didn't look his way, her focus on the tribute from Five as she made her way to the stage, but she did speak to him, softly, below the sound of the crowd. "You are a foolish man, Kaldur."
A fool to refuse to play jester for these infantile sadists? Kaldur drew himself up, nearly ready to hiss out exactly what he thought of her assessment — but her next words stopped him: "You spoke well."
In an instant, the angry words that he would have given her deflated, and he almost smiled as he nodded her way. Perhaps … perhaps Diana was not so blind as she had been before. The days in the Capitol, in the very den of the lions, might just have changed her. Or perhaps she had never been blind and was simply too proud to admit to what she saw. Either way, Kaldur was relieved to hear it. She was Four; he didn't want her to go into the Games not knowing the truth of them.
As the roar of the crowd rose up in his ears while Kara was introduced, Kaldur leaned back, his eyes closed. Tomorrow, he would go into the arena. He'd done all he could. All that was left for him now was to meet his death. He had no illusions about it — but he didn't fret and wonder how it would find him, either.
No use worrying about the tides. You will only cause yourself distress, and the tides will go on unbothered without you, Queen Mera used to tell him, and he smiled at the memory.
He leaned his head back, eyes still closed, and let the loss settle over his shoulders. He missed Atlantis desperately, his queen especially. At the least, he would soon see his Tula again, but it was small comfort when he ached for a breath of sea air or the feeling of sand in his fingers.
He let out all his breath in a long sigh as the cheering died down and the interviews continued for Five's girl. The tide does not wait for your grief, he thought with a wry smile as he sat up once more to watch the rest of Tivan's games unfold. You can mourn Atlantis when you are finished.