Chapter 6: A Year's Spoils

The sun had dipped well below the horizon by the time Riin made her way back to her Victor's mansion, Janus and Zhara in tow. She'd caught Janus slipping a neatly wrapped package into his pocket, and judging by his knowing wink, he knew that she'd seen. "Is it a knife?"

"You'll find out."

Riin frowned, and Zhara shook her head. "He never tells."

"But is it?" she needled. "Please tell me? Pretty please?"

Janus laughed out loud, but didn't relent as they stepped over the threshold to her house.

The smell of simmering onions and cooking rice immediately assaulted her, carrying the welcoming voices of her family with it. Colorful ribbons and streamers danced around the edges of the kitchen and sitting areas, a marked change from the mostly-bare beige walls this morning. Riin's father planted a kiss on her hair as she sidled into the kitchen to investigate the progress on dinner — chicken stir fry, by the look of it. "Almost ready," he reassured, and she grinned.

"Hey, it's the birthday brat," Iden greeted, throwing an arm around Riin's shoulder and attempting to ruffle her hair. "Haven't seen you all day; it's been nice."

Riin promptly elbowed him in the gut, earning a wheezing grunt from her brother and some light words of scolding from her father. But Iden was laughing; she hadn't gotten him too hard.

Glancing over her shoulder, Riin saw her mother greeting Janus with an almost-hesitant smile; their talk must've gone over well enough, then. About time.

Catching her daughter's gaze, Valdora pulled Riin into a gentle hug; any tighter and Riin might've shoved her off. But Riin didn't feel like fighting with her mother anymore, not in front of their company, even if Janus already had one foot in the drama. Besides, this obviously meant that Valdora was sorry for yelling at her and would be begging for Riin's forgiveness once the night ended. At least, that's how Riin was going to take it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call Barnabas over?" her mother asked upon releasing Riin. "He's right down the street."

Briefly, Riin imagined the other Victor sitting alone in his mansion drinking whiskey or wine or whatever straight from the bottle, staring forlornly out the window, conscious of the merry celebration occuring inside her house. He'd probably seen Janus and Zhara arriving with her, if he was looking (which Riin liked to think that he was). "No, I don't want him here," she said cheerfully as the doorbell rang.

Skipping to the door, Riin opened it to see Cosima's doll-like face, cheeks rosy from the cold. Around her wrist hung a tiny gift bag with a yellow rose sticking out.

"Cosima! Get inside, it's too cold out there." Taking her hands, Riin dragged the girl through the door. Cosima passed out polite but warm greetings to the crowd, handing her gift to Riin's mother where it joined the rest on a small table that sat between the foyer and the kitchen.

Spotting Iden laying out flatware on the dinner table, the blonde girl eagerly waved him over to the sitting room. "I'm so glad I could make it," she gushed when he came into view. Riin rolled her eyes.

"We're glad you're here too," he said, chivalrously taking her coat and gloves.

Once Iden was out of earshot, Cosima plucked at the cuff of Riin's sweater. "Are you sure you don't want to wear something nice?" she asked sweetly.

In her head, Riin imagined how satisfying it would be to smack Cosima across her stupid, pretty face. Instead, she flashed the other girl a false smile. "You're right; come help me pick something out," she said, snatching Cosima's hand again and pulling her towards the stairs. On the way, they ran into Iden, and Riin grabbed him by the shirt collar. "You too, you lout."

"What are we doing?"

"Cosima's helping me pick an outfit." The three of them clambered into the master bedroom — Riin's room. Throwing open the doors to the walk-in closet, Riin began rifling through the drawers and hangers. "And she's going to do my makeup."

"I am?"

"You're so good at it," Riin said, pausing her rummaging to throw a smile in with the compliment. "But if you make me look like a clown, I will kill you." Iden snorted from where he'd thrown himself onto Riin's king-sized bed. "Come help me with this, both of you."

"Nah, you know what I'm gonna say," Iden said, folding his hands behind his head. Riin huffed a sigh of annoyance; she knew exactly what he was going to say. "Come on; I'll give you five bucks if you wear the sweater."

"I'm not wearing the sweater."

"Ten bucks."

Cosima frowned, a plum velvet dress in her hands. "What sweater?"

With a groan, Riin dug the monstrosity from the bottom of a drawer.

"Oh, god." Cosima covered her mouth to hide her snicker.

With thick, fluffy alpaca fur dyed a bright neon orange, the grossly oversized turtleneck sweater was probably the most atrocious thing Riin owned. She'd worn it only once out of curiosity, when she'd first gotten it in the mail. Apparently, someone in the Capitol thought she would like it and spent the time and money to send it through the post. Personally, Riin wanted to shove it down their throat.

Iden shrugged. "Hey, it's comfortable."

"That thing could stop traffic," Cosima said with a giggle, while Riin shot her brother a glare. "Here, maybe this instead." She passed Riin the dress she was holding. "Or maybe this, with that skirt…"

They went through a number of outfits, with Riin trying each of them on for a minute or two while she and Cosima weighed the benefits of each one, Iden giving either a thumbs up or a disapproving shrug. Eventually, Riin settled for the plum dress that Cosima had given her first, layering a pair of thin black tights underneath the mid-length skirt. The puffy sleeves gathered at her wrist in a neatly fitted cuff, and she fiddled with the button as Cosima started on her makeup. "No clowns," she warned the girl.

"I won't, I promise. Ooh!" Cosima reached across Riin's vanity into a drawer full of brand-new lipsticks that had been stocked there when Riin moved in. "How about this one? It matches your dress."

Riin nodded, and Cosima tilted her chin to carefully paint her lips a deep mulberry color. Cosima's own lips sported a soft pink shade, quite close to their natural color, a classically beautiful contrast to her striking blue eyes. Riin wondered how many other people noticed.

A faraway shout from downstairs insisted that dinner was ready; Riin ignored it, letting Iden yell back a response while she watched Cosima dab the finishing touches to her lipstick. "There. I'm going to borrow this," she said, snatching a tube of clear gloss and applying it to herself while Riin wrapped a black satin sash around her waist and another in her ponytail.

Iden poked his head through the bathroom door. "Dinner's ready. You guys look nice, by the way."

Cosima beamed in thanks and Riin stuck out her tongue at her brother as they filed into the hall. Downstairs, her parents and the Shyles were already seated around the dinner table, the wok from the stove and a steaming pot of rice resting in the center on hot plates. Riin linked her arms through Iden's and Cosima's as they made their entrance.

"About time," her mother said, though not without a good-natured smile. As they seated themselves with Riin at the head of the table, Valdora stood to grab the matches and a bottle of wine. Striking one against the box, she lit the large candle in the center of the table, between the plates of food. She then poured seven glasses of dark red wine — including two for Riin and Cosima, who were still under the legal drinking age of eighteen — and passed them around the table. "Just for tonight," Valdora said with a wink as Riin and Cosima clinked their glasses together.

Riin took a hesitant sip and almost gagged at the taste; she'd never had wine before now, but she was determined to finish the glass. However, she didn't intend to repeat the unfortunate incident at her Victor's banquet, so she sipped it cautiously between bites of dinner.

Unfortunately, Cosima seemed to notice, and finished her glass without even batting an eye. "May I have another, Mrs. Kres?"

No way would Riin let Cosima outdo her, but the thought of drinking another glass made her want to kick the girl. "I think one glass is enough for you girls," Valdora said, leaving no room for argument. Riin felt a wave of relief.

After dinner, her parents dimmed the lights and cleared the table while Iden disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a large cake in hand, sixteen candles sticking out of the frosting (fifteen for her age, one for good luck). With him came the horrible birthday song, to which Riin finished off the remainder of her drink while the others joined the chorus.

Usually, she hated the song and the awkwardness that came with being serenaded. Perhaps it was the wine dancing through her head, but this year felt different. This year, she had the privilege of celebrating another birthday while across Panem, twenty-five others would never get the chance. Fifteen candles dotted the edges of her cake, forming a circle around a singular flame in the center. A classic arrangement, but as she stared into the ring of fire, she almost felt the heat at her back as well, insistent in edging her closer towards the center, towards near-certain death.

"Riin?"

They'd stopped singing; on her right, Iden's voice.

She smiled. "I'm fine. I can cut it."

Briefly, she met Janus's eye from across the table as Iden passed her the wedged cake knife. With a steady hand, Riin sliced six even pieces of cake, passing them around to the guests before fixing herself one of her own, the one with the largest purple sugar-flower, of course.

While they ate, Riin's father retrieved the birthday gifts from the other room, placing them in front of her one-by-one. Six gifts; twice as many as she usually got.

Pushing her plate of half-eaten cake to the side, Riin reached for the gift she'd seen Janus slip into his pocket: a flat, rectangular box with a gorgeous pink ribbon wrapped neatly around it. If there were any box she'd use to wrap a fancy knife, she'd pick this one.

However, when she untied the bow and lifted the lid, she found instead a handsome pair of black leather gloves sitting in a bed of white tissue paper.

"I hope they fit," Janus said, nodding for her to try them on.

Riin did, slipping them easily over her fingers. As she did, she admired the stitching, the craftsmanship; she'd started learning some advanced stitching techniques in school, but nothing her teachers had ever produced even came close to this. They fit, well, like a glove. "You made these?" she asked, voice hushed with admiration.

Janus smiled. "I had to bully Loki for your measurements," he said, drawing a light laugh from Riin. She thanked him earnestly before moving to the next gift.

A somewhat larger, more squarish box held a firetruck-red knitted hat from Zhara, also handmade. She'd sewn a layer of soft fabric into the inside for warmth. "They say we're supposed to be getting colder winters," she said matter-of-factly. Riin thanked her as well. Zhara's knitting skills far surpassed Riin's own; her hats and scarves always came out rather misshapen, and she never quite had the skill for sweaters.

Cosima's gift, aside from the rose, for which her father had gotten a small vase, came with a small card inside the tiny bag: a coupon for a paid visit to the high-end district day spa. "I thought we could go together," Cosima said almost sheepishly. "We could pick any day you want."

An entire day in which she and Cosima would be forced into each other's company? Riin gave her friend a toothy smile of thanks.

Next, Iden passed her a thick purple envelope, crouching next to her chair to watch her open it. Inside was a card, and two ticket stubs for Central High's production of Coriolanus; the date was set for the day after her return from her Victory Tour. "It'll probably be awful, but the costumes are nice this year." That's fun, I guess. Iden pointed at a poorly-drawn stick figure scene on the card. "Look, that's us beating Reggie with lacrosse sticks."

"Iden!" their mother chided while Riin snorted a laugh, holding up the card for the others to see.

"A true artist," Zhara said with a grin.

Before Iden returned to his seat, he leaned in close to her ear. "I'll give you your real gift tomorrow; you can't tell Mom and Dad," he said, his voice barely a whisper. Riin pretended to laugh as if he'd told a joke, reaching for the next gift (from her mother, according to the tag).

Excitement bubbled in her chest as she took her time unwrapping the present. What kind of gift had he come up with that their parents couldn't know? Briefly, she met Iden's eyes, and he gave her a knowing half-smile.

Turning her attention back to the gift, Riin tore off the remaining bits of brown wrapping paper, revealing a leather-bound book of sorts, though the sides were zippered closed. Slowly, Riin pulled at the zipper. Please don't be a yearly planner, or a book of knitting patterns. Flipping open the booklet, she found herself face-to-face with a set of twelve shiny new throwing knives.

Riin's breath caught in her throat. Delicately, she extracted one from its elastic hold, testing the weight in her hand, tracing a finger along its length. "They're beautiful," she whispered.

Valdora cleared her throat. "If I catch you throwing them in the house, they're going straight back where they came from."

"But I—just once? Right now?" Her mother fixed her with a hard stare. Riin's eyes flicked towards Janus's face to find a similar expression, and she relented, returning the knife to its case. "Thank you, Mamma," she said, standing to give her mother a kiss on the cheek.

Taking her hand, Valdora gave her a light squeeze before nodding to the last gift. "Go on, open your father's."

Returning to her seat at an encouraging glance from her father, Riin inspected the box — also flat and rectangular, though fairly larger than Janus's gift — before opening. Inside, a folded piece of embroidered fabric bore her own face, staring back at her with a proud expression. Almost hesitantly, Riin slid her fingers underneath the fabric to unfold it, afraid that she might somehow ruin it, despite how durable she knew her father's work to be.

Immediately, she recognized the shape: their family banner. And right there in the middle, lovingly and painstakingly woven into the fabric, lay Riin in the Victor's crown.

Iden had told her about the banner. The banner, the threads, all of it. Riin hadn't spoken to her father for weeks afterwards; it had taken him a while to needle the problem out of her, and she still hadn't quite forgiven him.

A silence hung over the table as Riin ran her fingers over the mass of colorful threads, the traces of shimmering gold etched into her crown, her eyes. Deep, midnight black mixed with various blues and violets formed the lines of her hair, pulled into the style that she'd worn during the crowning ceremony. And along the border, woven through the numerous shades of flowers and swirls of light and dark and everything in between, vibrant threads of indigo stood out and blended in. It took Riin a minute to remember that she had a voice. "When did you start this?"

She couldn't quite place the emotion clouding her father's eyes, threatening to choke his speech. "As soon as you came home," he said hoarsely.

Riin wasn't aware she was moving until she threw herself into her father's arms, burying her face into his shirt. Tears pricked at her eyes, in danger of overflowing, but she held them back; crying in front of everyone would just be embarrassing.

Hanada had no such restrictions, and tears rolled freely down his cheeks when they separated, almost falling into his open mouth. "I'm so sorry, Riin," he whispered, wiping the moisture from his face, and she tucked herself back into the crook of his arm in response. I'm so sorry for giving up on you.

"I got lipstick on your shirt," Riin said, and he gave a breathless laugh, dipping a napkin in a glass of water in an attempt to rub it off.

Her mother promptly instructed Iden to clear the dishes again, and he successfully mussed Riin's hair as he passed, ignoring her playful swat. "I think we can hang that up inside somewhere," Valdora said, indicating the banner. "At least until the summer." She passed it around the table for Cosima, Janus, and Zhara to take a closer look while Iden moved the cake to the countertop, where it could be picked at if anyone so chose.

Riin was itching to try out her new knives, but unfortunately, it would have to wait due to Valdora's rules and the fact that the sun went down hours ago. Instead, Iden suggested either a movie or video games; they voted on video games while her father disappeared to make popcorn for the kids, even though no one was really hungry. The four controllers went to herself, Iden, Cosima, and Zhara. Turning on the television, Iden loaded up Twelvecraft, which he'd gotten from one of his friends for his own birthday.

"Why this one?" Riin groaned. "It's so boring."

Twelvecraft was a mining game, the first one a series of video games loosely based on each district industry; Iden also had Eleven's Valley, which was even more boring, in Riin's opinion. "It's the best one I've got," Iden shrugged. He seemed to enjoy the game. "Ah, shit, Riin! You just triggered a rebel raid on the district!"

They spent the rest of the night killing digital rebels and mining fake coal (except for Riin, who decided to have her character "dig straight to hell"), until Janus and Zhara left to go home and sleep. Riin offered to have Cosima spend the night, and she called her parents to let them know. "They'll have to pick me up early," she said apologetically.

Riin didn't mind; Iden still had a surprise gift to give her tomorrow, and she had a feeling Cosima wasn't invited.

A/N: Isn't she cute... (And yes, those are supposed to be Minecraft and Stardew Valley jhfdhj. Maybe sometime I'll come up with the other district-themed video games too)

Any guesses on what Iden got her ?

Also I think we'll be on track for this for the next.. month or so ? Yeah.. that should be plenty of time for me to finish up that one in-between chapter that I haven't quite gotten around to lmaoo.. ;-; Anyways.. this time next week ? Lol

- Nell