Prompt: Oria coming home after having seen footage (shown in school maybe? or looks it up herself? idk) of the reaping ceremony from the 74th and/or 75th hunger games.

Worse Games

Haymitch was out of breath when he reached the house but he refused to acknowledge it. He was getting old, he thought, making sure the back door was properly shut behind him. The wind was strong and it had a tendency to slam open. He placed the bread and the groceries on the kitchen table, frowning a little at the uncharacteristic silence.

He didn't have to look far for Oria, she was sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the roaring fire, playing with her dolls and having a blast out of it. She must have been in one of her "fashion design" game because all her dolls' clothes were spread around. She was so focused on wrapping one of her doll's hair in piece of fabric, she didn't even hear him come in.

"Hey, baby girl." he ruffled her hair which made the eight years old huff and smooth it back into place. Nevertheless, she gave him a toothless smile. "Where's your mom?"

Effie was usually in the living-room at that time, watching TV or working on paperwork…

"Upstairs." Oria replied. "She's taking a nap."

"A nap?" His frown deepened. "She's ill or something?"

She was feeling fine when he had last seen her… Winter was slowly on its way, though, and Effie had always been very easily affected by the cold.

"I don't know." the little girl shrugged, glancing at the living-room entrance as if it would conjure her mother. "I think she didn't like Miss Talia's letter."

"Miss Talia." he repeated tiredly. When their daughter's teacher wrote to them, it was never good news. "What did you do now?"

"Nothing!" the child exclaimed defensively. "Everyone got one. It's for tomorrow's lesson."

Haymitch left her to her dolls and went upstairs, a little worried about his wife. It wasn't like her to lie down in the middle of the day, not even when she was feeling ill. There was only one reason he could think of for her to do that and that was either a flashback or a panic attack.

She wasn't laying down. She was sitting with her back to the headboard, her legs hugged tight against her chest and her face buried in her knees. She didn't seem to hear him come in at all.

Not good, Haymitch thought, his suspicions growing.

He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a cautious hand on her arm. She startled badly, her eyes darting left and right.

"You're okay, sweetheart?" he asked quietly. She had been crying, that much was clear : her eyes were red and bloodshot. "What happened?"

She didn't answer, she reached for the crumpled piece of paper next to her and handed it to him without a word. It was an official letter from Oria's school, he squinted over it, dread and disgust coiling in his stomach.

The ten years anniversary of the rebellion were rolling around and Oria's class would be taught about the Games the next day. The letter was only a heads-up to the parents.

Haymitch could understand Effie's reaction because he felt sick to his stomach. The tremor in his hands was so pronounced all of a sudden that the paper made a rustling noise.

"I don't want to send her to school tomorrow." Effie finally spoke.

He reread the letter again. They would show footage of the 74th and 75th Games since they were the ones that lighted the spark.

"Not a solution." he countered flatly. They would appear on screen, Oria's classmates would recognize them and even if they didn't, Haymitch's last name wouldn't go unnoticed. Sending her or not wouldn't change a thing because her friends would tell her. "She will learn about it anyway."

"Then I will go talk to her teacher tomorrow morning before class." she hissed. "They shouldn't do that, it's…" Her face fell. "I don't want my daughter to see… I… Haymitch… What will she think?"

"Yeah." he sighed, rubbing his eyes. What would Oria think about her escort of a mother and her killer of a father? "We need to tell her. Now."

"I beg your pardon? Have you lost your mind?" Effie's laughter was almost hysterical. "We aren't telling her. She's eight. She's too young."

"It's been ten years." he argued. "It's going to be everywhere. We can't hide it forever, sweetheart, and if my kid has to know I killed people I'd rather explain it myself."

They stared at each other for a long time and Effie shook her head. "Easy for you to say. You have excuses, I don't. I'm the monster."

She averted her eyes, her face dejected.

It had been easy to forget during the last few years – easier than he had thought it would. They had let go of the past, they had focused on their daughter and life had been good. He should have known the past wouldn't stay buried.

He brushed the loose strands that had escaped her stylish bun out of her face. "You paid your debt."

"A few months of torture don't make up for the twenty-four children I reaped." she scoffed. "You said that yourself."

"I also said you didn't deserve to be tortured in the first place but that must have slipped your mind." He rolled his eyes. "Forty-six. That's the number of kids I couldn't save. And eight kills in the arena. Fifty-four people."

And the worst thing was he couldn't remember all of their faces. They came back sometimes, out of the blue, like all familiar ghosts, but he couldn't remember them all. Their feature had blurred with time.

"It's not a competition." Effie snapped. "You didn't have a choice."

"Did you?" he shrugged. It was the eternal question, wasn't it? They could discuss it until they were blue in the face, they would never find an answer. Capitol citizens had been brainwashed from birth, Effie had realized soon enough what the realities of the Games were and how ugly it all was. It was too late for her to get out by that point. Once in the Games always in the Games.

Even ten years after they were over, it seemed.

"It's better if it comes from us than from strangers." he insisted. She knew he was right, it was written all over her face. But she was pale, her lips were wobbling and he wasn't sure she could bear it. "I can do it by myself if you want."

"No." she replied. "No… If we do this… It should be the both of us. It's unfair to you otherwise."

He nodded gratefully. Oria always looked at him with a spark of admiration he wasn't impatient to snuff out.

There was no great discussion about how they were going to do it. Effie simply slip her hand in his and they walked down to the living-room where Oria was very busy trying to customized a dress with scraps of fabrics. She barely glanced up when they sat on the couch.

"Sweetie, we need to talk to you." Effie forced a smile on her lips but it was a feeble one. "Come here for a second."

A second was a very optimistic way to think about this, Haymitch mused as Oria dropped her toys to sit directly in front of them, right on the coffee table. Effie winced but didn't remind her that furniture weren't for sitting like she usually would have.

"I didn't do anything wrong." Oria was quick to say – which sent alarm bells ringing in Haymitch's head because when she was that fast to defend herself, there usually was something to hide. She was a very curious child and that had gotten her in trouble more than once.

"You aren't in trouble." he said. "Do you know what tomorrow's lesson is about ?"

Oria's eyes immediately lighted up. "Yes! The Games! It's going to be so cool ! I love history lessons!"

She was grinning so hard it was almost painful to watch, and the way she was bouncing her feet in excitement… It made Haymitch want to be sick. Effie squeezed his hand harder, he didn't know if it was a show of support or a request for comfort.

"Do you know what the Games are?" Effie asked faintly.

"Something that happened ages ago." she shrugged. "I wasn't even born."

"And everybody knows that's when the world started turning." Haymitch snorted. He couldn't help his smirk at his daughter's sometimes self-absorbed remarks. She was so much like her mother… Oria grinned back at him as if they were sharing a big secret.

"Could we remain serious?" Effie chided him.

"I'd rather not, sweetheart." he deadpanned, prompting giggles from the eight years old. He was stalling for time, he was aware of that. He didn't want to destroy his daughter's innocence. He truly didn't want to. However, there was nothing he could do to prevent it barring moving behind Panem's borders. "Listen, baby girl… Tomorrow, you might see or hear things about us that could upset you."

Oria frowned. "Why?"

It had always been her favorite word ever since she was five. He couldn't keep count of the number of afternoon they had spent in the woods with her asking him why the sky was blue, why the water in the lake wasn't tasting like the water in the sea, why the birds fly, why snow was white… The list of questions was endless and he didn't always have the answers but she was never content with an I don't know. At some point, he had taken to phoning "Uncle Beetee" and let the girl chat with Three's victor for hours. It certainly wasn't very fair on his old friend but it had been that or going crazy.

"We should explain the Games." Effie whispered. He could only nod but he made no attempt at even trying. She took a deep breath, and started talking, keeping her eyes on the ground. "A long time ago, there was a war."

"The Mockingjay war!" Oria piped proudly. "That's Aunt Katniss."

Haymitch shouldn't have been surprised. She had picked up things here and there.

"No." Effie's smile was strained. "An older one. It was well before your father or I were even born."

The little girl's eyebrows shot up. "It must be very old…"

"Almost a hundred years ago." Haymitch grumbled. "But thank you, you do know how to make a guy feel old, baby girl."

She leaned in to pat his knee like Effie sometimes did when he was sulking for whatever reason. "You're still pretty, Daddy."

That was his usual reply to Effie when she complained about being old. He couldn't help but chuckle.

Effie entwined their fingers, a silent reminder that they needed to stop dancing around the subject. She clung to his hand.

"During that war, the Districts turned against the Capitol." Effie explained. "It was very different from now…"

Haymitch let her explain, almost tuning her out like he used to do at Reapings. Some of her sentences were directly taken from the speech she used to recite every year. He didn't think she was doing it on purpose. When she finally finished explaining how the Games came to be, Oria had a pensive expression on her face.

"So, they punished people by letting them play a Game?" the child resumed.

"I… Not exactly." Effie stammered. "The Games weren't… They weren't nice Games."

"A Capitol escort came to each District once a year." Haymitch took over, his voice as flat as it could get. It was at times like those that he truly missed liquor. "They drew names : a boy and a girl. Every kid from twelve to eighteen could be reaped. Then they took those kids and…" He fell silent, memories flashing in his head. He had been wrong before. He could remember the faces. Fifty-four faces flashed in front of his eyes in the space of a second, plus Chaff's, Seeder's Mags', Finnick's and all the friends he couldn't save. It made him dizzy.

"They sent the children in an arena and then they watched until there was a winner." Effie finished swiftly. "Now you have to understand… For Capitol people, it was good fun. We didn't know any better. The victors and the escorts were very famous, it was all glamorous to us."

There was a pleading note in her voice but Oria didn't seem to understand why, she tilted her head on the side and then she shrugged. "Okay."

"Your mother was an escort." Haymitch said because it needed to get out at some point. Explaining about the Games was the easy part. Explaining about the role they played, now…

There was a silence. Haymitch could have sworn he would never feel his hand again because Effie was crushing it.

"Did you have a pretty dress?" Oria asked. "Can we see pictures?"

Effie glanced at him uncertainly. "I… did. I had a lot of pretty dresses."

"If pretty is a synonym of ridiculous then, yeah, she did." Haymitch replied harshly. He was unsettled by how much Oria was missing the point. She was usually quick to understand. "When I was sixteen, my name was drawn."

And he fought not to remember, he fought to forget and yet he could still hear it… His name being called by Twelve's old escort… The gasp of his brother, so loud in the silence… The drop of sweat rolling down his nape… The desperate look he had exchanged with his best friend before starting to walk mechanically to the stage…

He blinked, willing himself to focus on the present and the little girl sitting in front of him.

"By Mommy?" she asked.

"Not that time." Effie breathed out before he could answer. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder briefly, in an unnecessary silent apology.

Oria pondered that and then she grinned. "You won! You won because we live in victors' village so that means you're a victor! And Aunt Katniss and Uncle Peeta too! That's why he has a robot leg!" She looked so proud of herself… Like she had finally puzzled out a mystery that had bugged her for a long time. "That's so cool!"

A true Capitol child.

The thought came out of nowhere and Haymitch banished it guiltily to the back of his mind. It wasn't her fault. She couldn't understand. She had grown up in a world in which she ate when she was hungry, she never feared for her life except when strange bugs attacked her and she had never been afraid of losing someone.

"It's anything but cool." he growled.

Oria's glee died down abruptly faced with his uncharacteristic aggressive attitude toward her.

"Haymitch." Effie warned. It was his turn to cling to her hand while she clear her throat. "Sweetie, the Games weren't a good thing."

"But games are fun…" Oria objected, still watching him. "Are you angry, Daddy?"

"No." he replied, forcing his voice to soften. "No, baby girl."

"Those games… Those games weren't fun. Those games were wrong." Effie insisted. "To win means you are the last person standing. It means everyone else is dead."

"Dead dead or play dead?" the girl frowned.

"Dead dead." Effie confirmed.

Haymitch couldn't watch his daughter do the math. He couldn't. He stared at the shaking hand Effie was gripping so tight her knuckles had turned white.

"Oh." Oria said finally. "But you said they sent children."

"Yes." Effie's voice was strained and she cleared her throat again. Haymitch hoped she wouldn't start crying. If she did, it would upset Oria and then he would have to comfort them both and he really wasn't up for that right then.

"But…" Oria pressed, obviously fighting to grasp everything. "Daddy killed children?"

The horror in her voice, the note of despair… Haymitch would have stood up and left if his legs had been willing to carry him but he doubted they would. He could only stare at his and Effie's entwined hands. He could only pray it was all a nightmare and it would end soon.

"Daddy was a child at the time." Effie replied, firm enough that it left no room for argument. "Just like Aunt Katniss and Uncle Peeta. They had no choice. You really have to understand that, sweetie. Whatever they did, they had no other choice. They protected themselves, they did what they could to survive, there is absolutely no shame in that. They were victims."

He didn't like being called a victim. He wasn't a victim. He survived. Victims didn't survive.

Oria spoke before he could correct Effie. "But… But… You are from the Capitol, Mommy. And Daddy said you called the names…"

Effie's breath audibly caught in her throat.

"She didn't like it." he said. Effie's eyes were burning a hole in the side of his face but he pretended not to notice. "Your mom tried to help the kids. She did her best. She did more than anyone for Twelve's tributes. More than I ever did." He didn't know if it was a lie or not. Effie had done more than her part required that was true but her motivations at the time were fuzzy. Was she trying to get promoted to a better District? Was it out of sympathies for the tributes? Was it because she felt horrible about the Games? It was a mix of the three probably. Nobody entered the Games world and came out whole. Nobody. Not victors, not escorts and not even Gamemakers if Plutarch's stories were to be believed. "People will say bad things about your mother, Oria." Effie had been living in Twelve for eight years, people had accepted her, she had friends… But he was certain that the talk of the rebellion would bring the hatred back. "I don't want you to believe them."

Oria's darted from her mother to her father. She looked confused.

"Capitol people don't seem nice." she said at last. She was upset, it was plain, but neither he nor Effie attempted to comfort her. He wasn't sure she would accept a hug just yet. It was a lot to take in.

"It's a bit more complicated than that." Effie cringed. "It was very different, sweetie."

"Do all the winners marry the escort?" The girl was fumbling with a loose thread on her pants. Effie was obviously fighting not to tell her to stop. "Is it like in fairy tales? You win the princess?"

He should have seen that coming, Haymitch figured. Oria was too perceptive, from what they had told her, she surely had guessed that District and Capitol didn't mixed so well.

"Only when you love the Princess." he shrugged, causing Effie to gasp a little. He didn't say that often enough. He barely said it even to Oria. It was difficult for him to put his feelings in words. "But no. There aren't a lot of victors left anyway. Only me, Katniss and Peeta, your aunt Jo, Uncle Beetee, aunt Annie and a woman called Enobaria."

"Finn's mom won the games?" Oria frowned. "But she's all… nice. Like Uncle Peeta. Did Uncle Peeta kill people?"

"Yes." Effie sighed.

The frown deepened. "But Uncle Peeta is nice."

"It has nothing to do with being nice, Oria…" Effie explained. "There are a lot of bad things nice people would do to protect people they love or simply survive. It doesn't mean they are not good people or that you should think of them any different. Do you understand?"

Haymitch wasn't so sure. As Katniss had told him once : nobody decent ever won the Games anyway.

"I think so…" Oria nodded. "It's not their fault. Like when I threw my shoe at the nasty fox who wanted to eat the geese. I hurt the fox because I didn't want him to eat Greta but I didn't want to hurt the fox 'cause he's pretty."

Ah, Greta… The fox hadn't known what mistake he'd made setting his eyes on Oria's most treasured bird.

"I wouldn't have put it quite this way but I suppose it's an adequate metaphor." Effie granted.

Oria nodded mostly to herself and then she jumped off the table and crawled in Haymitch's lap, forcing him to let go of his wife's hand.

"That must have been very scary, Daddy." She hugged him tight. "I was scared when the fox tried to eat Greta. I'm sorry you had to hurt people because you were scared."

He tried to answer but, in the end, the only thing he could do was hug her back. He closed his eyes, buried his nose in her hair and thanked Effie a thousand times in his mind for having gifted him with their daughter.

"Group hug." the child declared.

Her little hand reached for her mother's arm and tugged until Effie leaned against Haymitch's side and Oria could hold on to her too. It wasn't long before she escaped to go back to her playing. He suspected it was a way for her to process everything because she moved things around a lot without actually trying to customize her dolls' dresses anymore.

Effie rested her head on Haymitch's shoulder. She didn't say anything but he knew what she was thinking. The escort thing hadn't sunk in, Oria hadn't completely understood the role her mother had played. They should explain how the 74th and 75th Hunger Games had changed things… They should explain the rebellion…

Later, he thought, during dinner maybe. Not now, though.

Let her play, he mused watching her wrapping an old piece of fabric around a doll, there are worse games.