The landscape blurred as the high speed Capitol train hurtled through the districts on humming tracks, never slowing enough at any one point for Acacia to get a good look at the country in which she lived. They stopped once, for fuel, her mother said, but as day gave way to evening, the young girl began to tire of the toys and books provided for her, and she curled up beside Willow on the large, comfortable sofa in the rear carriage.
It was just the two of them in there; Sasha, the tall woman dressed all in plaid, make up included, was somewhere else on the train, and Delta had opted to spend the day in the cabin provided for her. Willow understood. Acacia didn't, but she was excited about the journey she'd been invited on, six years before she should be allowed to go, and Willow thanked the stars that she'd not given in to her rage to rail at the President, the Capitol, and anything else that she could think of in front of her daughter. Acacia wasn't foolish, and neither did she speak lightly, but who knows what might have slipped from those lips in her enthusiasm to answer the questions of those who might wish her harm.
"I'm hungry, Momma."
"Just something small then, we're almost there."
Acacia had snacked on and off throughout the day, her off moments being when little flutterings of nerves had set in. Apparently though, those moments had disapated. She ate her way through a bread roll made of fine grain, nothing like the dense stuff they usually used back home in 7, and a preserve she'd never tried before, but thought was absolutely delicious. Willow had forced herself to eat a bowl of broth a few hours after they'd boarded, and she'd had nothing since. Her own stomach was churning like a vat in the papermill.
Darkness suddenly fell outside. They were in the tunnel. It was time to get ready to meet the people of the Capitol. It was almost time for Acacia to meet Snow. Willow's stomach lurched afresh, bile rising in her throat. She swallowed it down, took a sip of water, forced a smile onto her face.
"Let's go and get changed, shall we?" she said sweetly.
To Willow, the amount of people on the platform seemed to have reached a new high. The crazy, gaudily-dressed bodies were crammed together like sardines in a tin, barely enough room between them to wave a greeting to the person they had come to see. Even outside the station, where they'd never catch a proper look, they still stood twenty, thirty people deep. It was insane!
Acacia clung to Willow's fingers. These crowds were loud and bright, beautifully terrifying, and it took the little girl several moments to adjust to the sheer mass of people that appeared to be closing in on her, to the volume of their welcome, but once she had, she'd managed a shy smile, and a wave that brought about a collective sigh from her admirers.
"Such a darling!" Willow heard one woman say, and fervently wished both she and Acacia were back home in the quiet of 7.
"Miss Monroe?"
"Peacekeeper Casanova."
"This way, please, the cars are out front."
Willow inclined her head, but her insides clenched. She had to parade her daughter, not just across the platform like normal, but beyond the station limits, to show her off to as many citizens as she possibly could. She was back in the Games, and this time, she'd been forced to bring Acacia along as a pawn.
Unaware of the turmoil raging in her mother's mind, Acacia sat close to the window of the white car that would transport them to the Training Centre. She waved until her arms ached, and smiled at a girl around her own age who was stood beside the car. The girl returned it with an impish grin, and tugged the hand of the woman behind her.
"She smiled at me, Mommy!"
"Did she, sweetheart? She's lovely, isn't she? Those dark, dark eyes!"
"Can mine be that colour?"
"When you're eight, then we can look into that."
And then, they were off. The car purred to life, rolling quietly through the crowds that were held back by thick, red ropes and a handful of peacekeepers. Acacia gazed out across the city streets, awestruck by the buildings, the people, even the pavements. Nowhere in 7 looked even remotely like this. The view on the television was a poor substitute for the reality of the Capitol.
"What do you think," Willow asked, even though she could see Acacia's feelings quite clearly. There was nothing here, not yet, that could make Acacia believe that this was anything other than a place of beauty and grandeur. She hadn't made the connection between what she saw here, and the children who died on the television year after year. Willow hoped, at least for the next few days, that the little girl would remain oblivious. It would be safer that way.
There was an equal amount of pomp and celebration outside the Training Tower, banners, ribbons, all very tastefully done, of course, huge crowds wishing them the best, welcoming them to this great city. Everybody wanted a glimpse of the victor's daughter. Acacia was to them, what they were to her. A curiosity, a glimpse into another life.
She kept her hand tucked into Willow's, but the smile never left her face, her waves became animated, she accepted bouquets and tokens. She was their new darling, and she knew it. She did everything right. Willow hoped Caesar was watching, hoped he would see how like him Acacia really was. She was five years old, playing the crowd, making them love her.
It took half an hour to get inside, and even once they'd made it through the doors, with other victors stopping them to say hello, it was a good hour between exiting the car and reaching the 7th floor. Juno crushed Willow and then Acacia in heartfelt hugs as soon as they walked in, babbling that she'd expected them a little earlier and they'd have to hurry, hurry now in order to be ready on time.
"Let Cay have a rest whilst I take a shower, then you can make us even more beautiful."
Acacia giggled at her mother's wink, and kicked off her shoes. Her toes sank into a rug softer than anything she'd ever felt before. Yes, Acacia decided, she quite liked the Capitol.
Caesar had never been so nervous in his life. Certainly not in this anticipatory manner anyway. Tonight he would see her for the very first time, the child he had fathered, and loved from afar. They'd be in the public eye, under Snow's gaze, but right then, he couldn't bring himself to mind. There was always the concern at the back of his thoughts that something could go wrong, but that was natural now. He was never completely relaxed, he just tried to appreciate wonderful things as they were happening.
He'd been watching the media coverage that afternoon, of course, and his heart had shot into his throat, down to his stomach, and back up when Willow had stepped off the train with a little girl behind her. Five years old, dark hair, dark eyes, he knew who she was the second he saw her, and he could have burst with pride. Few knew it, but they were his, and if he dared, he'd have happily shouted it from the rooftops so everyone else could know it too.
Stood in the ballroom of the Presidential Mansion, he was practically hopping from foot to foot as the minutes snailed by, his eyes flying to the door everytime it opened, heart in his throat, and he sighed as, yet again, some other famous face was announced.
And then, quite unexpectedly, there they were.
"Miss Willow and Miss Acacia Monroe."
Caesar let out the breath that had caught when they'd appeared. He didn't know which of them to look at first, his gaze darting between the two, mother and child, fiancée and daughter. There was a tug on his arm.
"You can't go yet," Venetia murmured quickly.
He looked round to see he was probably five or six paces from where he last remembered being. Keep yourself in check, he reminded himself, tonight of all nights!
This was precisely why he'd wangled his stylist an invitation, so she could make sure he didn't dart forward too eagerly, didn't say too much, and so she too, could perhaps meet Acacia. To the extent that she could, Venetia cared greatly for the girl, sent gifts for Willow to take back to 7, asked about her after every Victory Ball. To that end, Venetia was as much family as Theodora and Guyis were.
They were about somewhere, his sister and brother-in-law, but without being asked or told, they'd not approached him. Nothing more than a nod and a small smile had indicated they were even aware of his presence, but Caesar had seen the excitement in Theo's eyes. She was looking forward to this moment almost as much as he was.
It was an hour before Snow summoned Caesar to the balcony where he was holding court, and by then, Caesar was almost completely resigned to the idea that he'd be left watching from a distance. So near, and yet so far. He knew his surprise was evident by the smirk Snow gave him over the railing.
His heart started to thump as he climbed the stairs, harder and louder the closer he got to the President. What if Snow told him no, or to go home? What would he do then? This was his time. The few hours in the year where he could touch her, and hold her, and remember why they were doing it; what all the risks were for, and why they lived with the hurt. Snow couldn't say no!
Caesar longed to talk to Willow. More than anything, he needed that. Especially after everything that had happened at the last Games. These few months since had been exhausting. Never quite certain that she was okay, that some mysterious 'accident' hadn't befallen her. Not knowing what had happened in 7 when she'd gotten home. To see her today, here in front of him, only went partway to reassuring him that she was okay. Physically she seemed to be moving well, but emotionally, he knew she was perfecting her neutrality towards the Capitol. He'd seen it when she'd bowed her deference to Snow upon her entrance. The quick looks that had passed between them, though, told him different.
"Good evening, Caesar."
"Sir. Are you well?" Caesar had to push the words off his tongue.
"Quite well, thank you." The President paused, considering his Master of Ceremonies. There were times he couldn't read beyond Caesar's eagerness to see Willow. Couldn't see what else he was thinking. Because he was so adept at concealing everything but that, or because it just overrode all other feelings? He wasn't sure. Although he supposed these circumstances were different to the norm. Still, whichever it was, changes were afoot; Coriolanus needed Caesar onside.
"You've done well this year, Caesar, despite the... blip..."
Caesar only just held in a shudder at the memory of Chilton Meadows' execution. Before he'd died, the escort had had to watch Vinnie choke to death at the end of a noose. Vinnie had still been struggling for breath when the hangman had led Chilton up the steps onto the scaffold. It had been horrific.
"So I thought, perhaps, you might like to spend a little time with your daughter."
Anger flared. He shouldn't need permission! Caesar dragged the desire to put his hands around Snow's throat and squeeze back down. He wouldn't even get his hands on the President before he'd go the same way as Chilton. And what about Willow and Acacia? What would Snow do to them if he dared to even try?
Caesar smiled. He knew how to do that.
"Thank you, President Snow."
If the first comment had been forced, this was doubly so, but Snow nodded him away, and Caesar strolled down the stairs as relaxed as he'd appeared going up them just a few moments before.
Willow saw him coming, and felt the dead weight in her chest lighten a little. She would be able to see him after all. It had been so long, and with everything that had happened, it felt like a lifetime since she'd been able to lay her cheek against him whilst they danced. She was sure they wouldn't get their time together at the house this year. How could they, with Acacia here? And so, Willow tried not to think about the time they would lose, to focus rather on what would be gained. To Acacia, now, it would mean little, but to Caesar it would mean the world. And perhaps, when Acacia was old enough to know, maybe then it would be important to her too.
"Miss Monroe."
Two pairs of eyes looked up at him. Caesar swallowed, suddenly six years younger, back at the tribute parade of the 49th Games. When she'd turned and gazed directly into the camera, and taken his breath and his heart. Snow wouldn't break them, he promised himself that, and he vowed it silently to her. Because of this little girl, he wouldn't break them. This little girl, with Willow's dark hair, and his own eyes, with Willow's desire to help those less fortunate, and his ability to capture a crowd. She was why. He wanted a different future for her.
Acacia regarded the Master of Ceremonies with interest. After all this time watching him on the television, she'd expected him to be louder and brighter, but in truth he seemed quite nervous, rather like a newbie to the forest. Not entirely sure what reception he might be given.
"Hello, Mr Flickerman."
She stretched out a small hand, remembering her manners even if her arm was incredibly tired with all the greetings she'd had to make that evening.
The fingers that took hers were shaking. Caesar could see them trembling even in the soft light. He was overjoyed and excited and miserable all at once. Saddened by the fact that they couldn't claim one another. That he had to be 'Mr Flickerman'. That wasn't who he was at all. He should be able to pick her up to reach the top layer of the tallest cake in the room. He should be able to take both her and Willow home after this ball, where they should be able to live without fearing for their lives! Caesar breathed in slowly. She was far more ready for this conversation than he was.
"Hello, Acacia." He shook her hand politely. "How do you like the party?"
"It's fun," she said simply, because it was, and because Mama had told her to never give too much away in conversation, especially conversations with people she didn't know.
"What do you like best?" Caesar winced inwardly, but then reminded himself that she was five, and didn't know him. Keeping it neutral would likely be safest for everybody.
"I love the dresses." A peacock strutted past, and she giggled. "And the animals are funny."
"You've never seen a peacock indoors before?" he chuckled.
"Before today, I'd never seen a peacock before," she stated, very matter of fact. "There's not many animals back home that we wouldn't eat."
"I hear one can eat peacock," Caesar said, "But that it's not particularly nice."
"Hmm. Maybe that's because they're snooty."
Caesar laughed aloud, considering the exotic bird in a new light.
"I see what you mean. Yes, perhaps that's why."
Caesar glanced at Willow, she gave him the smallest but gentlest of smiles, one that told him to carry on chatting to Acacia, that she had no intention of interrupting whatever time he had with her.
"So tell me, do you go to school?"
"Yes, sir. I'm in the first year."
"How do you like it?"
"It's okay, but I like the weekends better." She wrinkled her nose. "Although I read a whole book on Friday, and Mrs Collins said I'm the best reader in the class," she announced proudly. "I'm also quite good at math, aren't I, Momma?"
"Yes, you are."
Willow touched Acacia's hair, piled up on top of her head, just like her own. They were in matching outfits too, right down to the diamond bracelets on each wrist - gifts from President Snow. The most expensive shackles in Panem.
"And what do you do at the weekends?"
Willow looked away then. She could have cried as she listened to Caesar trying to cram in as many questions as he could, to learn as much as possible about the daughter he'd never really have the chance to know. He loved her with all his heart, but he couldn't even tell her he was her father.
Acacia decided early on that she rather liked the Master of Ceremonies. Almost everyone else here had squeezed her cheek, patted her head, told her she 'just adorable', and had promptly dismissed her, for all they professed to be interested. Caesar Flickerman hadn't. He'd talked to her, asked her things about her real life, listened to her answers, and asked her more things. He'd wanted to listen to what she had to say. She supposed he should be very good at that though, that was his job, after all.
At a discreet nod from Snow, a formally dressed peacekeeper began heading in their direction, and Caesar knew his time with Acacia was up. She seemed to sense the change in him, for she stopped mid-sentence, and offered her hand to him again.
"It was very nice to meet you," she said.
Caesar took her small hand in his own, and pressed a gentle kiss on her fingers. She giggled, suddenly shy, and grinned up at Willow.
"It was very nice to meet you, too."
The peacekeeper stopped at Caesar's side, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.
"May I borrow your Momma for a few minutes, Acacia?"
The little girl nodded, knowing that Willow always, always danced with Caesar at the Victory Ball, delighted to have been asked if she minded.
The peacekeeper stationed himself behind Acacia as Willow placed her hand in Caesar's. It fit perfectly, just like it always had.
"Stay here, Cay," she reminded her daughter softly.
"Yes, Momma."
Caesar led Willow to the very edge of the dance floor, and for a few moments, they were able to just stay there, in one another's arms, swaying, but then the orchestra struck up a Vienesse waltz, and they were forced into the swirl of spinning couples, around and around, away from Acacia.
Caesar scanned the crowd, but from across the room, Theodora had already seen what was going on, and was making a beeline for Acacia. Whether she intended to speak or not, Caesar didn't really care, all that concerned him was Acacia not being left alone. The next time he was able to see where she had been stood though, Theodora was there alone, and Acacia was being guided up the stairs by the peacekeeper, to the balcony where President Snow stood waiting for her.
"Your mother looks beautiful tonight, Acacia. As do you."
"Thank you. Momma always looks beautiful."
"And happy, too."
"Hmm."
Acacia considered the President, and he watched her, wondering how much she knew. If her parents had any sense, she'd know nothing at all, whether she'd asked about her paternity or not.
"You don't think so?"
"No, her eyes are sad."
"Why do you think she's sad, Acacia?"
"I don't know," she answered truthfully, "She's always sad when she comes home from the Capitol."
Snow followed the girl's gaze as it sought out her mother. Even from here, he could see Caesar's fingers were pressing into Willow's waist in an attempt to keep her on the dance floor. He allowed himself a tiny smile of pleasure. Control, that's what it was all about.
"What did you think of Mr Flickerman?" He changed the subject swiftly.
"He was kind."
"Have you seen him before?"
Acacia nodded. These questions seemed like a test, and she wasn't sure whether she was passing it or not. And this man, however important he was, and however polite he was being, made her feel ill at ease.
"Yes, on the television. For the Hunger Games. And I see Momma dancing with him on it too."
She didn't tell the President that she often found her mother crying when Caesar Flickerman was on the screen - in fact, even Willow herself didn't know that. Acacia had always been sure to leave her mother alone when it happened. It seemed like a private thing, this man certainly didn't need to know.
Snow gazed down over the balcony railing again, surveying the scene once more. He had a decision to make, and, uncharacteristically, he was uncertain. Perhaps he should flip a coin...
Caesar didn't think it was obvious that Willow was trying to get away from him, but if he were honest, he was struggling to hold her. He could see marks appearing on her hands where he was gripping her, and so, although he knew it was a giant risk, he forcibly dragged her closer against him than he'd ever dared to before in public, lowering his head so he could hiss in her ear: "She'll be fine. You have to stay here."
Willow knew Caesar was right, but every muscle, every bone, every drop of blood in her body, was screaming at her to get Acacia away from Snow, and so she kept fighting against the man she loved.
"What's he going to say to her?" Caesar continued. "He's hardly going to announce I'm her father, is he? He's been trying to keep it a secret for six years."
"What's he trying to make her tell him though, Caesar? She's just a baby, she doesn't know..."
"Willow."
She stopped struggling then, when she heard the misery in his whisper of her name.
"I'm sorry... I just can't stand him being anywhere near her."
"She doesn't know anything to tell him."
The music started to fade. It was almost over, no time for words of love, or promises. No time for anything more than to look into one another's eyes and hope that the next year would go by quickly, and peacefully, and that in twelve months time, they could be reuinted once more.
"I love you," she muttered into his chest.
"And I love you."
He pushed her gently away, forcing himself to take her arm instead of her hand, to a plaster a smile back onto his face, to lead her to the staircase, up to the balcony where Snow still stood with his hand resting on Acacia's shoulder.
