Author's Note: Hello, lovely readers! Thank you so much for your patience, and I appreciate the reviews, favourites, and follows. I hope you're continuing to stay safe, wearing masks, social distancing, and washing your hands!
Enjoy!
Could this be worse than the Games itself?
Rey winced as another plastic strip was torn from her right leg, taking with it a clump of thick body hair. Her prep team, two people dressed in gaudy outfits that rivalled Stacia Brew's who had introduced themselves as Maximus and Adela, had spent the better part of two hours ridding her body of hair. Her skin felt hot and inflamed, even with the topic cream they had applied to sooth the burns. They sang her appreciations for staying still and not complaining, but it all honesty Rey was too petrified to move an inch.
Right after exiting the train once it pulled into the Capitol and greeted by a throng of cheering and cameras, both she and Mitaka had been transported to the Remake Center, a place that now seemed to be a prison of pain.
Another strip of plastic was torn off her leg, catching Rey off guard. She couldn't help it – she let out a small yelp at the pain.
"Don't worry, sweetie, we're almost done," Adela cooed, rubbing a small handful of the cream on her leg.
The only thing Rey was grateful for was that the Capitol cameras were not allowed in the building. If potential sponsors saw her yelp at the tiniest bit of pain how could they have any confidence she could win the Games? And she needed to win.
Rey ached to clutch Rose's necklace, but it had been taken away with the rest of her clothes she had worn on the train. When she'd been ordered to undress, her prep team at least had reassured her the necklace would be safe.
After removing what felt like every inch of hair from her body save for her eyebrows, Maximus and Adela moved onto her nails, filing them down to a smooth line and polishing them until they shined. The makeup was next, and although Maximus said most of it wouldn't come until the Tribute Parade, they still covered her face with powders, lined her eyes with black ink, and made her eyelashes appear fuller and darker.
"All done!" Adela chimed happily, helped her sit up from the metal bed and held a mirror to her face.
Rey almost didn't recognize the person staring back at her. It was her, but if she had a consistent and plentiful diet, if she didn't need to hunt or spend her days covered in engine grease and sweat. If she had been born in the Capitol. Despite herself, she couldn't help but admire what could have been, if the circumstances of her birth had been different. But then she shook her head, getting a hold of herself.
My name is Rey Skywalker.
I was raised by Luke Skywalker.
He disappeared five years ago.
My name was called in the reaping.
I'm the District 6 female tribute for the 68th Hunger Games.
Reaping.
Tribute.
Hunger Games.
She repeated the words over and over in her head. Her circumstances could not be changed, no matter how many layers of makeup Maximus and Adela applied. She would always be Rey, the rail yard worker from District 6. And she needed to go back home.
After admiring herself in the mirror, Rey was taken to a small room with two plush sofas and a coffee table between them containing yet another plethora of silver trays of food. This time, there were bowls filled with dried and candied fruits, roasted nuts, and cheeses she did not recognize. To the side of the room was a massive floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Capitol skyline.
In the late afternoon sun, the light-coloured skyscrapers shined like gemstones. Elegant cars sailed down the perfectly paved roads, and the streets were filled with people in bright outfits. In the distance, she could even spot the President's mansion, draped with a massive red-and-gold flag bearing the emblem of Panem. Everything looked clean and spotless.
Just the opposite of District 6.
Rey took a seat on one of the sofas, and even though she wasn't particularly hungry, she tried a few pieces of the candied fruit. As she bit into an orange slice, the sugar melted away on her tongue and then revealed a tartness that almost made her pucker. She reached for a second when a woman who must have been her stylist entered the room.
Reflexively, she dropped the piece of fruit and stood to greet her. She had dark skin, though a little lighter than Finn's complexion, and a mass of sea-blue braids piled on the top of her head. Her eyeliner matched, and her cheekbones shone so bright Rey almost had to squint to look at her. Her dress was a little toned down by Capitol standards, but as she took a seat on the sofa across from her, Rey saw that its material was iridescent, shifting colours in the light.
"Please sit, Rey," the stylist said. Her voice was smooth and warm. Like a mother's. "I hope the prep team wasn't too harsh on you. I know how jarring it can be for those in the districts to be the in Capitol. And please, continue eating. I have no doubt your mentors have told you that eating more helps in the arena."
Wide-eyed, Rey took a seat and reached for another piece of the candied fruit.
"Those are my favourite, too," her stylist said, grabbing a few pieces for herself. "I specifically requested them." She popped a few in her mouth. "Now Rey, I'm your stylist, Lucretia. I'm in charge of your outfits for the Tributes' Parade and your interview. My partner Quintus is in charge of your counterpart, and we wanted to do matching outfits this year."
Every year, the District 6 tributes were dressed in some form of a mechanic's outfit and a pilot's outfit to signify the district's production of trains and hovercraft. One year, the tributes were dressed up as an actual train – easily the worst outfits of that year, which included whoever had dressed up the District 12 tributes in nothing but a layer of coal dust.
To say the least, the prospect of matching outfits intrigued Rey.
"I'm sure you'll agree that the whole train engineer theme has been played out," Lucretia said, popping another piece of the candied fruit in her mouth and laid back on the sofa, crossing her legs at the knee. It was truly a wonder to Rey how her stylist could be so relaxed.
Rey nodded, struggling to form words in her mouth. In all her exposure to the gaudiness of the Capitol in the past two days, she didn't expect her stylist to be someone so… normal. Not eccentric. Were all the Capitol stylists like this? No, that couldn't be true. Some of the outfits worn by tributes in years past had been so outrageous they couldn't have come from normal minds.
Lucretia seemed to ignore her stunned expression and continued. "Just as I thought. No, this year we want to do something unforgettable. In truth, you inspired us, Rey."
"Me?" She asked dumbly.
"Of course! A member of the Skywalker line deserves no less." Her hot pink lips curved upward into a knowing smile.
Rey was about to open her mouth to explain she wasn't really a Skywalker, like she had during her first conversation with Ben Solo on the train, but decided against it. These people were clearly convinced her lineage played to her advantage. What had Ben said? People would be lining up to sponsor her just by the virtue of her name. That it would help her in the arena.
That it would help her return home.
So if the Capitol insisted on including her in the possibly-growing Skywalker-Solo victor line, who was Rey to contradict them, when it would only play to her disadvantage if she did so?
Instead, Rey said simply, "I've heard that a lot lately."
Lucretia's smile grew. "Of course, you have! You've already piqued the interests of the most influential Capitol sponsors, and Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith themselves. You wouldn't believe how much of the coverage they've dedicated to you and your mentors. I think some of the higher-ups have had to tell them to even out the coverage on the rest of the tributes so as to avoid favouritism!" The stylist let out a bell-like, almost girlish laugh.
It reminded her Rose.
Her heart ached at the thought of her, at the thought of home.
She so badly wanted to hear Rose laugh again, to listen to her go on and on about the intricacies of the engine of a high-speed train. She wanted to sell stolen wares at the Station with Finn, to fuel his ambitions to leave the oppressive Peacekeepers. For the first time since the reaping, she realized if she were to win the Games she would be granted a house in Victors' Village of her own. One with functioning electricity and plumbing and more rooms than she needed. She would also receive more money than she needed.
More than enough so that she nor Rose would have to spend grueling hours at the yards and steal parts to sell or to fix Luke's home. It would even be enough for Finn to escape.
Yet another reason for her to win.
"And as befitting for a potential addition to the Skywalker victor line, I drew these up," Lucretia said, pulling Rey out of her trance.
The stylist set a leather folder full of heavy paper down on the coffee table between them. Rey looked at her expectantly, as if bundle of papers were priceless artifacts that couldn't be touched, but Lucretia merely gave her permission with a polite nod. Gently, Rey flipped through the sketches with a light finger, and her breath almost caught in her throat.
The likeness was incredible, given that it must have been just from the television broadcast of the reaping. In the sketch her hair was up in her usual three buns, her cheeks rosy with flush and eyes a light hazel. But her outfit was something out of a dream. It seemed to be designed with a silvery iridescent material much like that of Lucretia's dress. It was a sophisticated jumpsuit, but not gaudy, with a simple black belt cinching the waist. Under the crook of her arm was a sleek silver pilot's helmet with the emblem of Panem embossed onto the side. Rey flipped to the next sketch, which was the outfit's back design.
Wings.
Wings in the shape of a hovercraft's jutted out from the outfit's side.
It was so unlike anything that had been designed for District 6's tributes before. If it weren't for her rather unfortunate circumstances, Rey would have felt grateful for inspiring such a design.
No, she was grateful. Grateful that these designs would catch the eyes of the whole Capitol. If people weren't already paying attention to her, they would now. Of course, the prettiest tributes often didn't result in victors, but it was a decisive advantage in the arena when it came to getting sponsors.
Only a few years ago the victor, Finnick Odair, had received countless sponsors in the arena (including the most expensive-looking trident in Panem) that all but ensured his victory. Rey couldn't compete with that, but if she was all anyone was talking about – including receiving a large portion of airtime curtesy of Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith – it would help her return home.
But her heart sank as she came to a sinking realization.
All this attention would put a target on her back in the arena. Rey remembered watching the recap of the reapings. How eager the tributes from Districts 1 and 4 had been to volunteer, how vicious the tributes from Two looked. She knew how the tributes from those districts considered it an honour to compete in the Games, how they trained to become killers since childhood. It was technically illegal do to so, but District 1's production of luxuries and District 2's position as the main training centre for all of Panem's Peacekeepers essentially excused them from any sort of punishment. District 4 was wealthy, and Rey assumed that's what saved them from the Capitol's wrath.
So, this attention was a gift, but could also make her an early target in the Games.
"Do you like them?" Lucretia asked, snapping Rey from her thoughts.
"Yes, of course," Rey tried to keep herself from gushing. She didn't want anyone to know the extent of her determination to win – not when it could pose a threat to the other, stronger tributes. "They're unlike anything I've seen in a Tributes' Parade before."
Lucretia smiled warmly, revealing almost blinding white teeth. She stood from the sofa and grabbed a handful of the candied fruit. "That's the idea. Now, we've a lot of work to get done. Follow me so we can get you dressed for the Parade."
Rey didn't know what more could be done to her that the prep team hadn't already done, but she found out after Lucretia, and the help of the prep team dressed her in what had merely been sketches minutes earlier.
On her exposed collar bones, cheeks, forehead, and hands, they painted some sort of sparkly silver body paint that reflected the light of the small room.
"You'll be glowing!" Maximus said with a trill of excitement in his voice.
"I think I already look like one of the chandeliers on the train," Rey replied, more to herself but the prep team heard her remark all the same.
"And don't the chandeliers catch your attention first?" He said, raising a purple eyebrow.
Rey realized he was right. Upon entering the train, her eyes had first been drawn above to the light fixtures, despite the vast array of food before her.
A warm feeling flooded her chest, regaining a bit of confidence.
Rey was facing away from the full-length mirror in the room, so she had no idea how she looked in Lucretia's outfit. She only had the excited approvals from the prep team from which to judge herself, though she had no doubt they would say she looked beautiful if the stylist had indeed dressed her in an actual train costume.
As opposed to the previous room, this one had significantly less space, no natural light, and no food on its polished wooden tables. Instead, it was lit by harsh fluorescent lighting and bright bulbs held together by metal poles. Rey was standing on a raised platform while Lucretia and the prep team worked around her.
They adjusted the wings of the costume, applied more makeup, and brushed out her hair, curled it with a hot iron, and re-pinned it into her three buns down the back of her head.
There was no clock in the room, but Rey guessed she had spent over an hour being dressed and made over for the Tributes' Parade.
By the time Adela and Maximus announced they were finished and started to clap their hands with excitement, Rey had completely lost track of the time. And at that point, she didn't want to ask exactly how long it had taken them to prepare her for the prepare for the parade. Rey stared down at the sleeves and bodice of the costume, amazed at how the reflected the light and seemed to shine a hundred different colours. Suddenly, Lucretia was in front of her – admiring Rey or her work, she didn't know.
"I hope you like it," Lucretia said, motioning for her to turn around to face the mirror.
Rey did so, and her breath caught in her throat.
It was perhaps the most mesmerizing costume she'd ever seen on a tribute. It looked exactly like the sketches from the stylist's folder, with its dazzling wings, figure-hugging silhouette, and silver sheen. It was in no way a practical flight suit, but for the likes of the Capitol it would do just fine.
For a brief moment, Rey forgot the grandeur of the costume was in service of her surviving in the arena where she, Mitaka, and twenty-two others would be forced to murder each other.
Her mind drifted to her fellow District 6 tribute. How was he fairing? Lucretia had said she and the other stylist wanted complementary outfits. Did he like it as much as she did? Was he too nervous about the Games to even take note of the costume? A small part of Rey hoped he had broken out of his shock from the reaping. It wasn't like he could do anything about it now, and it was hard for her to drudge up some dregs of sympathy for someone whose father was wealthy enough to bribe the Head Peacekeeper to keep his name from being read on reaping day.
A jolt of shame suddenly roiled through her body. It didn't matter how wealthy Mitaka's father was – his name had still been reaped anyway. They were in this together.
Nevertheless, Mitaka was not her ally. Rey needed to remind herself of that. They might be district partners, but when it came to the Games they were decidedly not on the same side. Victory meant the other would die, and Rey was determined to go back home to District 6.
She just hoped it wouldn't come down to her and Mitaka.
Rey reached for Rose's necklace, giving it a squeeze. The prep team hadn't failed to remind her that it clashed with the rest of the costume, but Lucretia let her keep it on her anyway – tucked beneath the collar of the jumpsuit. As the action had calmed Rose the day of the Victory Tour, it calmed Rey as well, knowing she had someone in the arena to fight for.
Before she was given too long to admire herself, Rey was being led out of the small room into a massive hallway of concrete lined with warm bulbs. But what her caught her eye was the neat line of twelve silver chariots with gleaming white horses.
Rey had never seen a real horse in her life.
The were all pointing toward the opening of the tunnel, where Rey would just make out the stands of Capitol spectators anxiously waiting for the parade to start. The sun appeared to have already set beyond the horizon, leaving the sky a royal blue lit by rows of fire. Rey hadn't even realized she'd spent the entire day in the Remake Center.
It was then Rey finally saw the other tributes, dressed in their own costumes. A few were staring at her with inquisitiveness, and a few did so with malice. It all made the candied fruit threaten to come back up onto the floor of the tunnel. Well, she didn't have to worry about making enemies prematurely – apparently it had already happened. Two carriages ahead of her, she could make out the District 4 tributes, dressed in some sort of piece made from a fishing net. Without meaning to, Rey swallowed nervously. The boy from Four looked even bigger in person. How was she supposed to fight him?
Breathe. Steady breaths. Rey reached for Rose's necklace and gave it another tight squeeze. If she was lucky, one of the other tributes would take him out first.
Mitaka made his appearance then, wearing the same shiny jumpsuit, a smaller version of her wings attached to his back, and a pilot's helmet tucked under his arm. His deep black hair had been combed back with some sort of oil, and his stylist had applied the same sort of powder that made his cheekbones shine in the light.
"My, you two look radiant!" Stacia Brew gasped, gliding towards them along with Leia and Ben in tow. Leia Skywalker looked mildly amused at their costumes, whereas Ben's expression was unreadable as always. Rey forced herself not to glare at him. What had Finn said that day – had it only been the day before – at the Justice Building? They want a good show. Make them like you. Well, she had better start practicing her smiles now.
Begrudgingly, Rey forced a smile towards the escort, but she had no idea whether or not it looked genuine.
"Lucretia, Maximus, you truly outdid yourselves," Stacia added, giving them both dainty kisses on the cheeks. "It's about time someone took District Six seriously."
"I feel like one of those chandeliers on the train," Mitaka grumbled low beside her, so that neither the stylists, prep teams, mentors, nor Stacia Brew could hear him.
Rey let out a genuine laugh. "I thought the same thing," she replied. "But Lucretia insisted that we could get the most attention."
"Well, you would," Mitaka said sheepishly. "I don't know about me."
Rey shot him a curious look. "What do you mean? If anything, we might blind the sponsors and that's something –"
"Don't pretend you don't know." Mitaka's features suddenly hardened, his mouth shifting into a thin line. "Rey Skywalker? You had everyone's attention from the moment your name was pulled from the reaping bowl."
Oh. That. Rey had hoped that's not what Mitaka meant by the remark, but according to Lucretia it was true she had garnered a significant portion of the Capitol's attention. Sure, their favourites would always be the tributes from One, Two, and Four, but Rey was an outlier – a legacy tribute. Apart from sibling victors Cashmere and Gloss from One, the Skywalker-Solos were the only other legacy family in Panem – and from a district that had no specialities in weapons. But she couldn't control the amount of attention she received, could she?
Rey swallowed her uneasiness. "That's not necessarily a good thing," she reasoned. She didn't want to fight with her fellow tribute right before they were due to make their first official appearance in the Capitol. If they didn't make amends now, how long would it take them to trust each other? Through the training period? Up until the Games themselves? Both Capitol and District hated it when tributes turned on their district partner, and although Rey had no plans to do such a thing, she didn't want Mitaka to resent her, either.
"Look around you," Rey continued, taking Mitaka by the hand. She gestured with her head towards the other tributes getting ready to board their chariots. "A few of them have been glaring at me since I entered the hall. All the attention from the Capitol is making me a target for the other tributes."
Mitaka blinked, and then blushed. "I hadn't thought of that," he mumbled.
"These costumes should get us enough attention from the sponsors – but good costumes don't make you a threat," Rey said.
Mitaka looked as if he were about to answer, but Stacia approached them hurriedly and shooed them up into the chariot. Rey gazed for their mentors, but they had disappeared from the hall – probably had to go find their seats up in the stands with the rest of the mentors.
"Big smiles!" Stacia chimed. "The Capitol will absolutely fall in love with you!"
Again, Rey tried to give her a convincing smile. It must have worked, because Stacia replied with an excited "perfect!"
As she was making herself comfortable in the small chariot, Lucretia approached and took her shaking hand. "Don't be intimidated by them," she said. "Keep your head up, look proud. You come from a line of victors. Don't let them forget it."
Rey steeled herself, taking in her stylist's words. She couldn't imagine anyone forgetting the Skywalker victor line if that's all they were talking about, but there were twenty-three other tributes demanding for the same attention. She would need to continue to reinforce her Skywalker name in order to garner sponsors.
They want a good show.
Besides – who wouldn't want another Skywalker to continue the victor legacy?
Way ahead at the entrance of the hall, District 1's chariot started to crawl forward, and then pick up speed. Then Two's, and then Three's.
Rey's heart was about to burst from her chest as District 6's chariot picked up speed and rolled toward the entrance.
"District 6!" An announcer shouted, and Rey's vision was filled with firelight and thousands of screaming people. She could see their eyes light up at the sight of their costumes, and they were throwing flowers down onto the path towards them. Rey's heart rushed as she gazed at herself on the massive view screens lining the path. Lucretia was right. They outshone anyone else there, their outfits catching the light of the fires making it seem as if they were really glowing.
It wasn't until their chariot reached the president's mansion that Rey realized the crowd had been chanting her name the entire time.
Finn couldn't see her crying, Rose thought, wiping the tears from her red-rimmed eyes.
In truth, she had barely stopped since the reaping, so she didn't know how she could make it through the Tributes' Parade without more tears making an appearance.
And then there were the Games.
Oh, god, the Games.
Rose's heart dropped to her feet. By some miracle she had recovered from her depressive stupor last year. She didn't know if she could survive another one.
Rose gazed at the measly spread on the chipped coffee table in front of the viewscreen. With Rey off the in the Capitol, there wasn't much in the way of food. As it happened, the foreman of the train yards had announced another set of wage cuts, which were received with deep groans by the workers. They were more common, now, but some of the older workers remembered when these wage cuts had produced riots and violence, and thus began the heavy Peacekeeper presence at the yards.
At least Finn was able to spare some of his salary to get her more food, even though she insisted he didn't have to do it. But Finn always helped her anyway, probably at the request of Rey. And how could Rose circumvent a request like that, when Rey would soon be fighting for her life just for the chance to come back home? She would have done the same if she were in Finn's position.
A loud knock at the door made Rose jump, but she quickly recomposed herself and wiped the few remaining tears from her eyes.
Finn greeted her with a sorrowful look and wrapped her in a warm hug.
They wandered into the living room and took a seat side-by-side on the worn sofa.
"Have you seen the other tributes?" Rose asked meekly, picking at a loose thread on the arm of the sofa.
Finn shook his head. "I was on duty all day during the reaping. Didn't get the chance." He paused. "Did you?"
Rose nodded. "They replayed the coverage at the yards the next day."
"And?" Finn pressed.
"A bunch of young ones, but the tributes from One, Two, and Four look especially vicious as always. The good thing is that Rey has seemed to have gotten a lot of attention from Caesar and Claudius. They kept going on and on about the Skywalker victor line."
"Good, more attention means more sponsors."
Rose nodded again. "I know, it's just–"
A knock at the door. Quite a loud knock.
Rose and Finn looked at each other in confusion, but otherwise didn't move. Another knock rattled her to her core. Whoever it was, they weren't going away without an answer.
Tentatively, Rose made her way through the front hall and opened the door. Her breath caught in her throat for a second, but she relaxed when the figure knocking was revealed to be her neighbour, Han Solo. Still, she couldn't help but be surprised at his presence. She never saw him except during formal Games events when his presence was required, and when she caught glimpses of him in his garage tinkering away at that antique car he obsessed over. His facial expression always seemed in a near-constant state of annoyed at best and completely downtrodden at worst.
"M-Mr. Solo," Rose managed, clinging slightly to the door. "To what do we… owe the pleasure?"
"I thought you might want to come over…" he grumbled, but not in an unfriendly way. His voice sounded almost… empathetic. "To mine and Leia's place. For the Tributes' Parade. I know it can be lonely by yourself and a few of Leia's friends have already joined us."
"You almost make it sound like a party," Rose laughed lightly.
"Oh, it's nothing of the sort. But… I just know it's better to be with others during these things than by yourself. Trust me. My wife and son…"
"There's no need to explain, Mr. Solo," Rose said, smiling gratefully. "We'd love to join you. Finn?" She gazed back at her friend, who had been keeping away this whole time.
It was then Han Solo caught at glance at Finn, and his gaze hardened. Severely. He looked like he could have charged through the threshold, and Rose instinctively took a step back.
"What's he doing here?" Han Solo grumbled, pointing a stern finger.
"He's a friend," Rose said quickly.
"A Peacekeeper," Han Solo practically spat the words.
"I'm not like them," Finn raised his voice for the first time since the conversation started, approaching the front door with a renewed confidence. "I want to leave the first chance I get."
Han Solo then made a noise that could almost pass for a chuckle. "You've got spirit, kid, I'll give you that." A beat of tense silence passed before he spoke again. "How do you know I won't rat you out to our good Head Peacekeeper Hux?"
To his credit, Finn's gaze never wavered. "A feeling."
Another drawn out silence – this one longer than the last. Rose and Finn looked at each other, and then looked at Han Solo.
"Well, come on then, you two," he said, already turning from the door and making his way onto the street.
Rose and Finn looked at each other again.
"Both of us?" Finn called after the man.
"I believe that's the definition of 'you two'," Han Solo called back.
Rose smiled and grabbed Finn's arm, pulling him onto the street to catch up. "Thank you, Mr. Solo," she said once they were within talking distance again.
"You're welcome. And it's 'Han'."
Rose smiled again, almost forgetting about the Games for one blissful moment.
The walk to Han's Victors' Village home look less than two minutes – it really was only across the street and a couple houses down. The windows were blooming with light, something that couldn't be said for any of the other houses in the Village, and upon entering Rose was surrounded by warmth and the most delightful smell. What was it? She inhaled deeply. Apples and cinnamon. That was it. The very thought made her stomach rumble.
As they made their way through the house, Rose couldn't help but gaze around in wonder and awe. This was what a Victors' Village home was supposed to look like. It was what Luke's home would have been like. The Capitol influences of the house were scarce, apart from the modern viewscreens and a few works of art clearly done by avant-garde Capitol artists. Gifts, perhaps, from Leia and Ben's yearly trips. Rose wondered exactly how hard it was for someone in their position to say no to even the lowliest Capitol citizen.
"How did you know, Mr. Solo… Han," Rose asked suddenly.
"How did I know what?" He didn't turn when he spoke.
"That I lived there, at Luke Skywalker's home."
Han let out a breath that sounded more like a sigh. "I saw how close you and Rey were at the Reaping… I saw you leave together for work every day. I didn't… I couldn't let you be alone. Ben was…" he trailed off upon entering the kitchen, but Rose could get what he meant. How lonely it must have been for Ben Solo, winning the Games so young and having to move into a place of his own…
Through the kitchen, they were led to an airy sitting room. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back wall, and though the sun had gone down the moon and stars lit the blooming garden outside. The petals of the rows of flowers caught the light and glowed, as if they had been dipped in pure silver. Inside a few of the lamps were dimmed to see the picture on the viewscreen better, and on the shining oak coffee table lay a spread of food – finger sandwiches filled with thin cuts of meat, biscuits still warm from the oven, a whole roasted pheasant, a pitcher of lemonade, and baked apples covered in cinnamon. Rose's stomach rumbled with hunger again.
"Please eat, by all means," a voice said, startling her. "It'll distract from the current horror show we're being mandated to watch."
Rose looked up from the table and realized there were others in the room – an older woman with white-blond hair wearing a long grey dress that pooled around her on the carpet, and a younger man with glittering brown eyes and a head of deep chestnut curls.
"Did we miss anything?" Han grumbled before taking a seat on a very worn leather armchair.
The man scoffed as he shoved a biscuit into his mouth. "If it were up to me there would be nothing to miss," he said.
The woman rolled her eyes. "No, they haven't started yet. Claudius and Caesar are still droning on about nothing."
"I thought as much," Han replied. He reached over to a silver drinks trolley and poured himself a glass of amber liquid from a crystal decanter. After taking a very generous sip, he pointed to Rose and Finn with the hand that was holding the glass. "This is Rose… and her friend Finn. Rose and Finn, this is Amilyn Holdo, deputy mayor of District Six, and Poe Dameron, part-time test pilot and part-time mayoral aide."
Immediately, Amilyn rose from her seat on the plush sofa and wrapped Rose in a hug. Rose tensed suddenly, and a confused look must have laced her features because Poe gave her a look of nonchalance and mouthed, she does that.
"I'm sorry about your sister," Amilyn said.
Rose felt a lump form in her throat. "Thank you."
"And now with Rey…"
"I gave her something special that she needs to come back with," Rose managed.
Amilyn gave her a warm smile. "Let's hope she does. Hope is all we have."
"Hey, it's starting," Poe said motioning to the viewscreen.
The familiar tune of the Panem anthem started, and everyone took their seats. The sofa was only wide enough for three of them, but Finn seemed content enough to half-sit on the armrest beside Poe.
Soon the District 1 and District 2 tributes exited the tunnel into the light, dress in a slight variation of the costumes they wore every year. Unsurprisingly they received thunderous applause. Han rolled his eyes and poured himself another drink. The room was content to ignore the tributes from the first few districts.
"So, Finn, what do you do?" Poe asked, determined to have a distraction from the current proceedings.
"He's a Peacekeeper," Han answered for him.
Both Amilyn and Poe shot Finn dangerous looks.
"Aspiring to be an ex-Peacekeeper," Finn clarified quickly. "I have no loyalty to them or the Capitol." His eyes suddenly got wide, and his gaze shot around the room wildly. "This place isn't bugged, right?"
Han answered the question with a hearty laugh. "Kid, if this place was bugged, I'd have been arrested by the Capitol a long time ago."
"So, were you born in Two, then?" Poe continued.
"Yeah," Finn replied. "Raised in an orphanage almost my whole life. Our education was basically pre-Peacekeeper training."
"And how does a childhood like that make you want to defect?" Poe was enjoying this – Rose could tell, he was practically grinning. Of course, it wasn't every day one met a Peacekeeper who was so open about his disdain for the Capitol. Much less likely would he be willing to defect.
"I lost a friend in Two," Finn said quietly. "My only friend."
Han offered him a glass of the amber liquid from his decanter. Finn took a generous sip like Han had done, and immediately descended into a fit of coughs.
Han laughed. "Not used to fine Capitol whiskey, are you, kid?"
"Can't say I've had a chance to drink much of anything from the Capitol," he replied hoarsely.
"One of the, uh, perks of being married to a Victor," Han said. "Every year Leia comes back in the train with two dozen barrels of the stuff."
"Take your time with it, Finn," Poe said. "It's rite of passage to be offered a glass of Han Solo's famous whiskey in this house. Besides – he's about a hundred and fifty years old and drinks it like water."
"Quiet, you," Han said, pointing a stern finger towards him.
Poe leaned over towards Finn's ear with a warm smirk. "Okay, maybe a hundred and thirty years old," he said with a whisper that was obviously meant to be heard by the room.
Rose couldn't hold back a small laugh. Once again, she found herself forgetting the Games, despite the fact that the Capitol commentators' voices were blaring through the viewscreen, despite the fact that Rey was due on that very viewscreen any moment. She clutched the gold medallion around her neck. You can do this, Rey, Rose prayed silently, willing for her thoughts to cross the entirety of the country and supplant them in Rey's mind. Was she thinking of her now? Was she too wearing the matching necklace Rose had given her?
"Here they come," Amilyn said, pointing to the screen. The room fell silent instantly, even Poe's attention was glued to the oncoming chariots.
"And now we have District Six coming out," Claudius Templesmith said. "And I'm very excited to see what their stylists have come up with."
"Yes," Caesar Flickerman agreed. "No doubt they thought of something special this year for our lovely Skywalker tribute."
Rose's stomach turned at Caesar's possessive tone. Rey didn't belong to the Capitol. She would never belong to them.
"And there they are!" Caesar cried. "And what a dazzling display! Didn't I tell you they would be something special."
"Yes, it looks like the District Six stylists ditched the traditional pilot's jumpsuits this year and traded them for actual wings!" Claudius was nearly beside himself with excitement.
"I think I'm going to need sunglasses to get a proper look," Caesar said.
He was right, Rose realized. Rey's outfit shone so bright it could have been made from diamonds. But despite this, Rose could still make out the intricacies of the costume – wings shaped like a hovercraft's, stitching that looked like railroad tracks, a chrome pilot's helmet with a deeply tinted visor tucked underneath her arm, and a glowing face of silver sparkle. Her eyelashes, cheekbones, and collar bone were laced with glitter, and her eyes seemed to shine brighter.
Rey was a vision – an ethereal being.
Finn leaned over and smiled at Rose. "You'd never would have guessed she spends most of her days covered in motor grease, huh?"
"Are there rules against blinding the competition before the Games even start?" Poe laughed.
"It's a good strategy," Han replied.
"What a dazzling display, indeed," Claudius said.
"I don't think we've ever seen that much silver used for one district before, have we?" Caesar added.
"I believe you're right, Caesar. And listen… the crowd has already gotten on Rey's side."
He was right. Behind the thunder of the drums and the brass orchestra, the crowd was chanting.
They were chanting for Rey.
"She's a favourite already," Han said.
"That makes her a threat," Finn said.
"She was a threat the second her name was pulled from that bowl," Han replied, a little harshly. "No special costume would've changed that." He went for a third glass of Capitol whiskey and downed it in one gulp.