Chapter 4: What If's

17 November, 168 ADD

As per his father's instructions, Iden woke early the morning of his sister's birthday. Cautiously, he poked his nose into the hallway, sneaking a glance at the double doors of the master bedroom. Still shut — Riin was asleep. Good.

Throwing on a set of day clothes, Iden quickly padded down the stairs, the socks on his feet muting the noise.

His father waited for him already, morning paper sprawled out on the table and a cup of coffee in hand like usual. "Ready?" he asked at Iden's approach. Iden nodded; after scribbling a quick note to Riin detailing that they'd be back momentarily, the two of them grabbed their jackets and shoes and headed out into the garage. He still had a couple of months before he was legally allowed to be on the road without a licensed passenger, but the get-out-of-jail-free-card his mother had given him sat confidently in his glove compartment, ready for any emergencies. Not that he'd ever get pulled over; he was an excellent driver, thank you very much.

He hadn't seen Valdora this morning, though he knew she'd left early for work, even today, a fact that Iden tried not to be irritated about. Instead, he chatted idly with his father about various bits of school drama as he guided the car towards Button's Bakery in the central part of town — the best one in the district, in his and Riin's opinion.

Naturally, they'd be placing the order for her cake here. He let Hanada handle the cake dealings with the baker, Mr. Button, picking out a handful of donuts and pastries for breakfast, for himself and to bring back home for Riin. The attendant placed them into a box, nudging the baker to add it to their total. "Oh, make sure you add those icing flowers to the cake," Iden piped up as Hanada was closing the transaction. "The big ones. Riin likes those." Mr Button nodded, counting their total. It felt a little odd to be using Riin's winnings to purchase things for her birthday, but then again, how else were they supposed to properly celebrate? As her legal guardians until the age of eighteen, the official account management fell to their parents, anyways.

Quickly, they zipped back to the mansion, breakfast in tow. Riin was awake when he pushed through the door, yawning contentedly into a cup of tea. "We got Button's," he said, hefting the box of pastries like a trophy.

Riin's eyes lit up immediately. "Ooh! Gimme!"

"Say please?"

"Now."

Iden relented, huffing an incredulous laugh as he placed the pastry box in her outstretched hands. "Okay, fine. Happy birthday, I guess."

She grinned, her face too full of donuts to say anything in response.

They didn't stay long, however. Hanada gave his daughter a quick but affectionate greeting of his own before motioning Iden towards the door again. Riin's face morphed into a frown. "Where are you going?"

"Secret places," Iden said with a not-very-subtle wink; her expression changed just as quickly to one of eager excitement.

The 'secret places' consisted of the grocery store, to purchase the necessities for tonight's dinner, and the seamster's shop so Hanada could pick up the gift he'd made for Riin. He'd spent the past couple of months working on it, keeping it secret from even Iden and his wife. A labor of love indeed.

Iden's thoughts drifted to his own gift, the stiff line of his mouth creating a lull in the conversation with his father. Like Hanada, Iden had kept it a secret from not just Riin, though, he expected, for entirely different reasons. A secret from their parents it would remain, even after he gave it to her. Part of him wished he could give her something else, but the alternative would be to give her nothing at all.

They were lucky. Had things gone any differently in the arena, today would be a time of bitter mourning rather than a celebration.

But even luck, it seems, comes with a price.

With a swift motion, Riin swept the knife across the thick scarlet neck of her target. The blade ground against the wooden cutting board, trailing a stream of juice from the severed stalk of rhubarb in its wake. Not three days after Janus placed the order for the various combinations of tea leaves, flowers, berries, and even powdered flavoring packets had the package arrived at her doorstep, the aroma of fresh plants greeting her upon opening.

Three days after their Conversation (with a capital 'C') happened to be Riin's birthday as well. She tried to focus on the fact that she was still alive to celebrate and not the fact that she was a year closer to turning sixteen.

So much for getting out of the Arena.

Stop; don't you dare don't think like that, she chided herself viciously. Riin had won her years, after all. Her future existed, and it was hers.

With her mother at work and Iden and her father out and about on mysterious errands, it was as good a time as any to start practicing her Victor's talent. Riin had never had rhubarb custard tea before, but it seemed aesthetically pleasing enough for Capitol standards and mangable enough for her to start with, according to the little preparation booklet that had come with the various tea plants and spices. Not her preferred lavender, or even a sharp, refreshing mint, but it smelled pleasant.

Riin frowned at the recipe in front of her; it was a lot more than just boiling water, that was for sure. But she'd manage it out of spite, if that was what it took — never again would Iden tease her for not knowing how to follow a recipe.

The sound of the front door opening startled Riin out of her concentration; in her peripheral, she caught a flash of white. Parachute? No, Peacekeeper.

Without thinking, Riin flung the knife at the anonymous intruder; the blade glanced uselessly off her enemy's armored helmet as she lunged for another kitchen knife. I'll need to do better this time if I want to—

Her mother's cry of alarm cut off her train of thought; Riin paused with the second knife in hand, still poised to throw. She frowned in confusion as Valdora ripped off the helmet, her eyes wide with shock and anger. "Riin! What the hell is your problem?"

What? What is she doing here? It took a second for Riin to process the change of events, and then the biting tone of her mother's voice. Her features curled into a snarl as she recoiled from Valdora's words. "You surprised me!" she exclaimed, defensive. "I didn't- I didn't mean to — I told you not to wear the helmet in here; I can't tell who it is!" Her voice had risen to a shout, complimenting the sudden boiling of adrenaline in her blood.

"If I wasn't wearing my helmet, I'd have a knife in my head right now!" her mother countered, her voice just as sharp. "And how many times have I told you not to throw knives in the house?"

"I can throw knives if I want to; it's my house!" To prove her point, or maybe just to piss off her mother, Riin lobbed the blade in her hand at the opposite wall. It buried itself into the grey paint, right between a decorative china plate and an expensive family portrait. She clenched her fists, tempted to go for another.

"Thariin. Kres." Her mother's tone carried a warning that Riin might've heeded if she still felt like she had to listen to the woman.

Instead, she folded her arms, glaring daggers at her mother. "What."

Valdora let out a half-sigh, half-growl, dropping her helmet and her bag on the hardwood floor by the door. "I am going to change out of this uniform," she said tersely, "and when I come back, we are going to have a talk."

Riin huffed, blowing a stray hair out of her eyes. She was not looking forward to this. Who the hell did Valdora think she was, anyways? Well, obviously, she was Riin's mother, but that hadn't counted for shit in the Hunger Games. Fuming, Riin went back to her tea preparation. She didn't bother to look at the recipe, tossing whatever had been on the cutting board into a stone bowl, which she began to grind with a pestle.

The sound of footsteps on stairs alerted Riin to her mother's return, and she ground the combination of leaves and plant matter with more force. Dressed now in plainclothes, Valdora took a seat at the kitchen counter, watching Riin's progress with observant eyes. "They let me take the afternoon off for your birthday," she said neutrally.

So that's why she wasn't where she was supposed to be. Riin ignored her, filling up a kettle with water from the faucet. She managed to stop herself from slamming it onto the stove and flicked on the burner, resolutely turning away from her mother to watch the water boil.

"I don't want you to think that I'm not happy to be celebrating your birthday, Riin," Valdora said, her tone placating. It kept Riin on edge.

"Of course you are."

Valdora ignored her daughter's sarcasm. "I know it takes some time to adjust, but you can't go around throwing knives at people when you're startled."

"Sure I can."

"Riin, please."

The stupid water wasn't boiling fast enough. Riin turned to glare at her mother. "What do you want from me?"

Despite the hard set of her shoulders and thin line of her mouth, Valdora's eyes betrayed her worry, her frustration. "I just want you to be okay," she said quietly.

"I am okay. I'm perfectly fine."

Valdora raised an eyebrow. "No, you're not." Riin opened her mouth in protest, but her mother continued. "I know more than you think about how these kinds of things can change a person. It's normal to feel anger, or guilt, or whatever you're feeling, but I think we need to figure out a better way to work through this. I want you to know that you can talk to me, Riin."

A low hissing noise pricked her ears as the water on the stove began to simmer. "No thanks; I don't need to talk to anyone," Riin said dismissively. She didn't want to talk to her mother. There was nothing to talk about, no feelings she needed to analyze. She was doing fine; better than fine, actually. For the most part. The hiss of boiling water sharpened into a whistle, cutting through the air like a knife, and she removed the kettle from the fire.

"I think you should," Valdora insisted, a motherly warning in her tone that told Riin she wasn't simply expressing an opinion.

Riin didn't respond immediately, taking her time to meticulously pack the freshly ground rhubarb and tea leaves into the infuser and add the correct amount of honey to her cup: minimal. Almost delicately, she poured a light stream of hot water over the concoction, carefully watching the liquid rise. Control; it was all about control. "Maybe I'll talk to Janus instead."

Glancing upwards, Riin caught the distinct frown that crossed her mother's face at the mention of her mentor's name, the sudden stiffness of her jaw. "I'd prefer if you didn't—"

"What the hell is your problem with him, anyways?" Riin interrupted, setting down the spoon she was using to stir her tea. Valdora had made it quite clear that she didn't appreciate Janus's company, and frankly, Riin was getting tired of it. If pressing the issue diverted the subject of the conversation from Riin's 'oh-so-fragile' mental state, then, well. All the better for her.

Thrown off by the sudden change of topic and the accusatory tone in Riin's voice, her mother's frown deepened, her brows furrowing in… indecision? There was definitely a more complex element to the issue than Riin had initially thought, something that lay reluctantly on the tip of Valdora's tongue.

Riin's eyes narrowed, her interest rising the more her mother hesitated. "What is it?"

"It's not really…" Valdora trailed off. Her fingers flexed in discomfort, and she stepped around the countertop, grabbing a packet of tea from the cabinet and a mug painted with the words 'Panem's Best Wife'. She poured herself hot water from the kettle, stirring in a spoonful of honey with a tentative expression on her face.

"Tell me," Riin demanded.

With a heavy sigh, Valdora relented. "The year your mentor won, that was the year I was supposed to go into the arena."

What?

Valdora gave a wry half-smile at her daughter's confusion. "I wasn't born in District Eight, you know."

Riin recoiled in surprise. Not once had the possibility ever occurred to her, despite the well-known fact that Peacekeepers almost solely spawned from District Two. "You were a Career."

Her mother nodded in confirmation. "I was. I had been chosen to volunteer, but that damn Serena Mason jumped the gun." A hint of decades-old bitterness clouded her voice. "Our mentors were pissed. Rex and I had prepared our whole lives for it, years and years of training. The instructors told us not to get too friendly with our district partners since only one of us could come back, but he… he was my closest friend. I was so sure he would come home."

Rex Pluton has been the male tribute for District Two that year. During the final fight, Janus had flattened him with a hot-wired car and shoved a spear through his chest.

"So that's why you hate Janus?" Riin prodded. It was a fair reason, though twenty-eight years was a bit long to hold a grudge.

A look of irritation flashed across her mother's features. "I don't hate him, I… It's complicated."

Riin folded her arms across her chest. "Does he even know about this?" She paused, a new thought suddenly occurring, drowning out the rest of her concerns. "Wait, hold on; I don't care. Go back for a minute. You trained for the Hunger Games; why the hell didn't you train me or Iden?"

Try as she might, Riin couldn't keep the acid from her tone. Caught off-guard again, her mother didn't respond immediately, the ghost of her dead friend still dimming the light in her eyes. She stared at her daughter with muted confusion, a permanent frown etching into her face.

A surge of anger blossomed in Riin's chest. "Do you have any idea how much that might have helped?" she hissed, her voice rising. "Maybe if I had known what the fuck I was doing, I wouldn't have gotten an arrow through my leg, or my arm crushed into a million pieces!"

Valdora opened her mouth, as if to scold her for swearing, but Riin continued on her tirade, heedless of her mother's reaction.

"Maybe I wouldn't have had to cling to the others, if I had known how to get by on my own." Her voice had taken on a near-shrill quality as she ranted. "Maybe, if I had known," she snarled, "I wouldn't have felt so fucking helpless!"

Emotion constricted around Riin's throat, making it difficult to breathe.

How dare her mother look at her like that, like she was the one who'd suffered and not Riin?

She remembered it distinctly, the feeling of sheer terror that lurked underneath the surface of her mind ever since her name was called on Reaping day. The utter exhaustion it had taken to beat it down, to force the fear into submission with an iron will so she could separate herself enough to even think. Her hands trembled at the latent feelings, and she wrapped them tightly around her mug of tea.

"I'm sorry, Riin," her mother said, cautiously gentle. "I never wanted you near the Games; you have to know that."

But the memory of her family's parting words before she left for the Games rose to the forefront of her mind, their hopelessness — their acceptance — of Riin's fate. "Didn't fucking matter, did it?" she spat.

Valdora took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Riin, listen to me. I can't go back and change what happened or didn't happen. You have no idea how much I wished I had when I was watching you out there, but there was nothing I could do at that point…"

Riin let the words wash over her, sipping shakily at her tea in an attempt to regain control of herself. Immediately, she spat it out in disgust. Belatedly, her eyes trailed over the instructions; the line 'In a large saucepan, combine rhubarb and water; bring to a boil and simmer for 1 hour' stood out like a sore thumb.

"...And I know you don't want to hear it, but it's been nearly six months since you've come home, Riin, and I—"

A snarl rose to Riin's face, and she tore the recipe from the booklet, crushing it viciously in her fist. "Shut up! Just shut! Up! It doesn't fucking matter anymore!"

Ignoring her mother's stunned expression, Riin shoved past her out of the kitchen. She nearly sprinted out of the house, slamming the door violently without so much as a backwards glance.

A/N: Nope, it's not a coincidence that I recently started writing a story about District Two... Well, recently as in almost two months ago But.. yeah (: I don't think it's too much of a stretch to guess who Valdora's mentor might've been back in the day.. Anyways, if you skim over the first chapter of True Vengeance, you'll find a little mention of the volunteer incident lol, just for fun.

Also.. any guesses on what Iden's gift for Riin is ? And yes, before you ask, I Did, in fact, plan my entire series around the fact that Riin is a Scorpio. What about it.

I'm also posting an update for True Vengeance today too ! It's just as fun as this one, I think. ..Should also mention that there won't be any updates for the next two weeks for either story because. Exams (: Yeah. Hopefully this is enough Content for now (I know this chapter's a little shorter, rip).. I Could do an update for this during then (since ch5 is already written) but I will not, bc that's Distracting. Sorry.

Ok lastly.. I always mean to put shoutouts in these, and then I always forget as I'm writing the note but. Currently, I've got two SYOT tributes out there in the works ! Check out Crown of Thorns: The 86th Hunger Games by FireflyLlama if you'd like to meet my lad Scout Summers, the D12M :D I've also got Jenny Piston, the D6F in Withered Hope: The 24th Hunger Games by tracelynn ! CoT is currently in the pre-Games phase and WH is just starting intros now ! They're both excellent stories so far, and I'm super excited to see how they progress !

Anyways. See y'all after my exams ! ;-;

- Nell