Coriolanus retired from the party once Willow and Caesar had collected Acacia from him. As they'd approached - Caesar with a smile carved into his face, Willow simply biting the inside of her cheek to stop any awful words falling from her lips - he'd been both impressed and mildly amused, but neither emotion was helping him with deciding what to do with them next. He had long term plans, of course, but this matter was rather more immediate: He had to decide whether they could spend the night together or not.

He'd decided, months ago, that he would keep them apart this year, that Caesar meeting Acacia would be more than sufficient a reward for the work they'd done, but after seeing them all together, his curiosity was getting the better of him. There was a huge part of him that wished to know if Caesar's attitude towards the Games would change further, if presented with the opportunity to get to know his daughter in a more intimate environment, and indeed, how Caesar measured up in the fatherhood department. Added to that, they may feel a little more in his debt if he were to give them this time...

On the other hand, Coriolanus considered, would the child ask too many questions of her mother? Would Willow Monroe actually be able to keep it together enough to lie to the girl? Acacia, even with her tender years, was a shrewd cookie. She'd been taught to speak truthfully, but to say little. Not every child could grasp that idea.

Coriolanus took a coin from the top drawer of his desk, smirking at how concerned people would be if they knew just how many times he'd used it for those decisions he couldn't quite give himself a straight answer for - decisions far more important than this one too!

One flip of a coin, that was all it ever took for him to know, because when the coin was up in the air, he knew exactly which answer he was hoping for.


"Time to go."

Willow hadn't seen Delta properly since they'd left the Training Tower. She'd glimpsed her here and there, talking to Seeder and Mags, and, bizarrely, to Haymitch's mentor, Silas, whom she ordinarily avoided like the plague, but they'd neither of them sought the other out. The atmosphere was still a little strained between the two victors, not to where they weren't talking, but to the point where the once daily visits didn't happen anymore. Since Trapper had been released from detainment, the Jones' didn't venture out of the Victor's Village unless it was absolutely necessary. The once sociable family, with connections all over the district, kept almost completely to themselves.

Willow didn't argue, she'd no desire to stay here any longer. Caesar had gone, and as Snow had retired, she wasn't required to remain.

"Let me say goodbye to Haymitch, and we'll be there."

Delta nodded, heading for the door. Haymitch was a man of few words, it wouldn't be a lengthy farewell.

When she reached the door however, Darius Casanova directed her to the car behind his own, and Willow and Acacia came down the steps in time to see Delta being driven away alone.

"Is there a problem, Peacekeeper?"

Willow's grip on her daughter's hand tightened. Was something going to happen to them, or to Delta?

"No, no." Darius was quick to reassure the victor. In light of recent events, it seemed to be the least he could do. "I'll be driving you myself this evening."

Willow found herself hesitating. She didn't want to be caught defying orders, but now it wasn't just her to worry about.

Darius opened the rear door of the car, his hand indicating she should get in. "Please."

Her eyes shot to his as she saw what lay on the seat inside. He didn't respond at all, just looked at her pointedly.

"Please," he repeated, a little softer this time. "No one's in trouble."

Seeing as there was little choice in the matter, Willow helped a very sleepy Acacia into the car, and closed the door gently behind them.

"Put it on," Darius instructed. "You know the drill."

Willow slipped her arms into the familiar red velvet coat with the hood that hid her features. It was welcome feeling. Nothing bad had ever happened to her when she'd been wearing this coat. Maybe she should keep it on all the time...

Panic hit her like a bolt of lightning.

"What about Acacia?"

Darius reached across to the passenger seat, and passed a package back to the victor.

"Here. Compliments of President Snow."

It was another velvet coat, the palest of pinks, a shorter style, but with a large hood that would, just like Willow's own, conceal the face of its wearer.

"I think it was his daughter's, from when she was much younger, of course."

"Of course... It's a beautiful jacket."

"He said Acacia can keep it."

Willow could only feel distaste, but Acacia was lovingly running the pads of her fingers over the super soft fabric. She might not have liked him very much, but President Snow certainly gave wonderful gifts.

"Would you thank the President for me?"

"Of course, Miss Monroe," Darius promised. "Could you put it on, please, with the hood up, if you don't mind?"

Acacia obliged.

"Keep the hood up, Cay, until I say you can take it off."

"Yes, Momma."


Step one: Take two cards. Lean them against each other in an inverted "V" shape. Concentrate.

Caesar knew these instructions by heart, but he still read them every time he needed to open the little wooden box. The handwritten note from his friend was just as important as the playing cards themselves. It reminded him that he needed to focus, that he needed to keep his life perfectly balanced, always, to keep things on track and peaceful.

The sharp rat-tat on his front door made Caesar jump enough to knock the card beside his hand, and both levels of the card house tumbled onto the coffee table.

"Bugger," he muttered.

Darius? He wondered, getting to his feet. Or maybe Venetia. Either of them might have come to check on him after such an eventful and challenging day. He didn't think it would be Franklin, not at this hour.

"Hi."

Caesar wondered if he'd fallen asleep, and this was a dream. Or if someone had slipped him something, and this was a hallucination. Either way, fantasy or mirage, it was the most perfect one he'd ever had. Willow stood at his door, a sleeping Acacia in her arms, and Darius was watching from the street beyond, waiting for her to disappear inside.

"Hi," he breathed, still not entirely sure it was all real. He felt compelled to check outside, as though inviting her in might unleash terror on them all.

"It's fine, Darius brought me alone."

Caesar stared along the length of the garden path, his eyes resting on his friend. Darius nodded, and slipped back into the car, lost to darkness as the light went out.

"Come in."

Caesar held the door open, and Willow eased her way past, down the steps into the sitting room, to lay Acacia as carefully as she could on the sofa that Caesar had just vacated. She unbuttoned the little velvet jacket, and smoothed the hood back, keeping her hand on her daughter until Acacia settled back into sleep, and it was only once she was sure, that Willow stood up, and walked straight into Caesar's arms.

"I thought I wouldn't see you again this year," he murmured, after several minutes had passed. And he had been sure, so very sure. He couldn't help wondering if this visit would come with an obvious price tag sometime soon, but he pushed the thought away. He'd deal with that if and when the moment arose.

"I didn't think so either. Nobody said anything about it."

"Did you have to speak to him?" They both knew to whom he referred.

Willow shook her head against his chest. "I was supposed to meet Delta out front after we'd said goodbye to Haymitch; when I got there, she was gone, and Darius was waiting for us. We came straight here."

"How long?"

"The usual."

"Not long enough."

They exchanged a wistful smile.

"She'll probably sleep for a while..."

They didn't go all the way to Caesar's bedroom, they thought it best not to, in case Acacia called out, but that didn't make their lovemaking any less intense. The moment his lips met hers, Willow knew this was exactly where she needed to be, that if they could just have this night, this time together, that she'd be able to carry on. She'd be able to carry on coming here, mentoring these children, smiling at Snow, and evading the not-so-subtle suggestions of the Capitol elite that they could show her a good time - for that reason alone, she was grateful for the constant peacekeeper presence around her these days.

Caesar's fingers worked magic on her taut shoulders, his mouth on her neck, his love and desire insistently easing the tension from her body. She could probably almost count on two hands the amount of times they had ever made love, but somehow, right now, that didn't matter. What mattered was that they still felt the same way about one another, they were still doing whatever they felt they had to do to keep their family safe. It might not have always worked, but the honourable intention was always there. She kissed him again, trying to press everything she felt for him into it, her hands cupping his cheeks, for it wasn't passion she wished to convey; it was love and a promise.

Far from the previous year, when Willow had wanted her body to be broken to match her mind, she was tender, and he matched her. They whispered to one another, slowly undressing, taking the time they had together, and making it theirs. There was nothing rough about any of it, no sudden urgency. Caesar's hand slipped up the soft skin of her thighs, skimmed her hip, to cup her breast, kissing her all the time, wanting to make her forget everything else, just for a little while.

Willow couldn't help but be careful not to turn her back. She didn't want Caesar to see the scars that crisscrossed her flesh. It was still so obvious, where each lash had cut through her body, even if the welts weren't raw wounds anymore. He knew they were there, he didn't need to see them too.

Caesar did see them though, in the mirror as they redressed. She caught his reflection as she buttoned up her bodice, caught his sorrow and his sympathy. The memories, and his anger.

"They don't hurt," she promised.

"They should never have happened."

A small part of her liked them being there though, the bit that wanted Snow to know he could incarcerate her in arenas, he could torture her, he could threaten her family, but he would not break her spirit. One day, her voice, like so many others, would be heard, and then she would be free of him.

"Perhaps they'll be useful one day."

Caesar didn't reply, but he wondered suddenly what she knew.

"Shall we go down?" he said instead. "In case she wakes up."


Acacia woke about an hour later, to a dimly lit room she'd never been in before, and the muffled sound of her mother's laughter.

She was still in the Capitol, that much was obvious, but where she had no idea. She swung her feet off the sofa, pulling her dress over her knees as she looked around. She was in a big room. At first Acacia wondered if it was another floor in the Training Tower, but she quickly decided it was too homely for that, too many photos and personal touches. No, this was someone's house. A someone in the Capitol that her mother knew...

Willow's laugh - her real laugh, not her television chuckle - came again, along with another. A man's. Acacia stood up. This needed an answer. She crept forward, heading towards the light in the next room. A kitchen, even larger than their own at home, gleamed before her, and when she heard talking again, Willow's voice was closer. Her mother was outside, beyond the wall of glass in front of her.

"Acacia."

The man's voice was very familiar now the little girl could see who it belonged to. Caesar Flickerman.

"You're awake," Willow said quietly, "You okay?"

"Yeah... I could use a bathroom though."

Willow rose immediately, hoping for as few questions as possible. Because, if she were honest, she'd not prepared any answers. She wasn't certain she could tell her daughter, in front of Caesar, no less, that he was a friend. She just didn't think she had it in her.

"Is this Mr Flickerman's house?" Acacia asked, as soon as she thought they were out of earshot.

"Yes, it is." No harm in answering that truthfully.

"It's nice."

"I think so."

"Does he live here all on his own?"

"Yes."

This was leading somewhere, Willow knew it was. Usually Acacia's perceptiveness was a huge asset, but right now, things could easily spiral further than was safe. She pulled open the other concealed door in the mirrored hallway, and motioned Acacia inside.

"How long are we staying?" Acacia continued, upon her return.

"Until Peacekeeper Casanova comes to take us back to the Training Centre."

"Why are we here?"

And there it was, the million dollar question. The question that needed a lie for its answer. Willow looked across the room, at the sofa where she'd curled up against Caesar during Victory Tours gone by, and she remembered why they were just visiting, why they didn't live here, like they should.

Lie, Willow, lie to keep them safe.

"He's my... friend."

If Acacia caught the hesitation, she remained silent about it.

"How long have you been friends?"

"Since just after my Games."

That, at least, was not a lie. As head over heels as she'd been for Caesar before she'd entered the arena, they hadn't become friends until their days together in the hospital, the days when there had been little they could do but talk, when he'd seen her at her worst and had helped her get better. As hard as those days had been then, she'd give almost anything to relive them now.

"Is he a real friend, Momma? Like Aunt Delta?"

"He's one of the realest friends we have."

Acacia was thoughtful, running the information over in her mind. One of the realest friends they had? That said a lot. However many people Willow helped feed, however many people she spoke to in town and in the woods, however many people she made clothes for, and looked out for, their inner circle was small. Few had ever made it to the house in the Victor's Village. They numbered probably less than a dozen.

"Let's go back outside."

The subject was closed. Acacia fully believed she could have pressed for more, but her mother had probably said all she really wanted to say, and sometimes, the less one knew the better; so the little girl slipped her hand into Willow's, and skipped along next to her. Momma was happy, and that was good enough for her.


Now she understood that she was free of expectation, Acacia blossomed like a bud after a rainstorm. In the Presidential Mansion, she had been poised, graceful, every inch the little lady she was expected to be. Here, she was perfect. She was precocious, and lively, and perhaps just a tad overconfident - she'd fit right in with the Flickerman's, Caesar thought with an inward smile. She was twirling cartwheels on the grass in front of the table where he and Willow sat close, their arms just touching, and even though he knew these visitation rights were all part of a grander plan - a bribe for future demands - for the first time in years, Caesar actually managed to forget about Coriolanus Snow.

To most people, the five and a half hours they spent together, just the three of them, would have been unremarkable, banal even, but to Caesar, they were the most wonderful hours imaginable. He'd never envisaged a world where he would have this precious time with his family, and a tiny part of him still thought that maybe he was dreaming, that he'd wake up soon and they'd be gone. He carried on enjoying it though, every moment. He'd never really watched a child at play before, not with his entire focus on her. The way she made up little games, short, funny songs, he thought she was amazing. And she helped him make breakfast too. They made crepes together, in the kitchen he very rarely cooked in, because what was the point for one person? But she weighed and measured, and whisked, and when they were done, leaving everything covered in flour, they all sat outside watching the cerise sunrise as it peered over the treetops.

Whilst they ate, they talked about school, and her friends, about what she did in the forest, and the treehouse Uncle Trapper had made for her.

"Delta's husband," Willow explained, when Caesar had looked at her a bit too quickly. She felt uncharacteristically defensive. "He's been very good to us."

Caesar could only nod. Of course there was someone like that in their lives, how could there not be... Willow was a capable woman, he knew that better than anybody, but it was foolish to think she could get by without at least a little help every now and again. And perhaps Trapper Jones was the best person to be that help. He'd never heard the name, but he knew the good deeds, knew he'd looked after Acacia whilst Willow had been in the Capitol. And now he knew, it was easier to be both more grateful and more jealous of the man.

Acacia glanced between Caesar and her mother. She knew there was suddenly tension, even if she didn't recognise it as such. She knew Willow was upset, she recognised that all-too-familiar sadness she'd seen on Momma's face when she watched the television, and wondered if she'd said something wrong. But no. Caesar had pressed Willow's hand, whispered "I'm sorry," and Willow had shaken her head, and the two adults had exchanged a small, wistful smile that Acacia knew she was very much not a part of.

"Why don't you tell Caesar about the story you read to the class the other day."

Willow's voice, suddenly firm, took Acacia by surprise.

"Oh, um... Yes, Momma." She turned to Caesar. "It was the Children of Lir. Have you heard it?"

Caesar couldn't say he had. There were only a few tales he could remember from school, and his parents had never been big storytellers. His grandmother, God rest her, had been the one for that, but he'd been very young when she passed, so he'd not really been of an age to remember any she'd told them. He shook his head.

"No. What's it about?"

"It's an old, old story," Acacia told him.

Caesar nodded to show he was listening.

"King Lir lived in ancient times, and he was married to a beautiful lady called Aobh. They had four children, but Aobh died after their last baby was born, so Lir married Aobh's sister, Aoife, so the children would have a stepmother."

"Was she a wicked stepmother?" Caesar asked with a small smile.

"Not at first. She loved the children to start with, but then she started to get jealous of them because Lir spent more time with them than with her."

"So what did Queen Aoife do?"

"She took them down to the castle lake, and turned them into swans."

"Was she magic?"

"Yes, and she knew she couldn't kill them because they'd haunt her forever. So she turned them into swans, and told them they had to spend 300 years in Lake Derravaragh, 300 years on the Straits of Moyle, and 300 years on the Isle of Inish Glora, and only when they heard a bell tolling for the new god would the spell be broken."

"She doesn't sound like a very nice person, does she?"

Acacia shook her head quickly.

"And then she went back to the castle, and told Lir his children had all drowned. But Lir went to the lake, where Fionnula (that's the girl) in her swan form swam up to him and told him what had happened. The swan children could still speak and sing and think as humans. Lir turned Aoife into a bat demon after that, and sent her away from the kingdom, and he lived beside the lake for the rest of his days."

"So what happened to the swan children?"

"They lived for nearly a thousand years, on each of the lakes, swimming, singing and flying. Before long, everyone in the land knew about them. One day they heard a bell toll and knew the spell would soon be broken. They went to the shore and met a priest there who blessed them. They got their human bodies back, but old ones. They were baptised, and then they died. It's a very sad story."

"It is, isn't it? Those poor children, having to be swans for all that time."

"And poor King Lir too, missing his whole family."

Acacia looked away, towards her mother, and Caesar swallowed hard. Yes, poor King Lir... He'd tried his hardest for a long time to not feel sorry for himself, but now it hit him like a ton of bricks. His own family, every one of them, seemed to have slipped away of late. After Camille's death, they'd all made a special effort to call on one another, in person or at least by telephone, but that had trailed off after a while. Perhaps it was time for him to catch up with everybody, for he'd done no better at keeping in touch than they had. Maybe he couldn't have Willow, Acacia and Julius with him all the time, but there was no excuse for not talking to his sister or his father. Yes, he would do that later, once he was alone.

"Do you know how to play cards, Acacia?"

'Like pairs or something?"

"No," Caesar smiled. "Come with me."

When Darius peeked into the front room a little while later, he couldn't help but smile at the image before him. Caesar had his back to the door, teaching Acacia how to build a card house, she was pouting because everytime she tried to balance a card across the top of two peaks, it collapsed, and Willow... Willow was happier than Darius had ever seen her, and it just forced home to him the knowledge that this should have been her life. This was where she should have been, this was where Acacia should be growing up. He didn't want to stop this, didn't want the moment to ever be taken away from them, and that's what he had to do. He had to part them again.

No more, he told himself, no more.

END OF PART THREE