The Guardian Games: The Wrath of Five
Chapter 5: Come Over to My Garden and Play
Capitol
Presidential Palace
The Silver City was no less breath-taking than it had been when she had first visited it, but Astrid was no longer dazzled by the sparkling lights or the glaring screens. The menagerie of wild Capitol citizens dressed in their prismatic costumes swarmed her every step, greeting her with handshakes, pets on the shoulder and applause. The beams on their faces were almost predatory, for each was eager for a word with the victor if only to boast to their neighbors that they had done such a deed. As her Capitol escort reiterated ceaselessly, tonight, she was the star. As gloriously magnificent she appeared to be in the shining dress that hugged her muscular build, the only resemblance Astrid felt towards the stars were how isolated they were.
The tours had left a sour taste in her mouth, for more reasons than one. The last stop had been at District 1, where she had been reminded too much about the two Careers who had been her allies, and one of which who had come very close to killing her. Gothel had no family to mourn her, so Astrid felt no guilt, but her male counterpart did, and the blonde girl did all she could to avoid his parents' gaze.
On hindsight, she decided what stayed with her most from the Tours was not the dilapidated conditions of the Districts, or even the tributes themselves. It was the families. Sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers.
The hateful gaze of the old man from District 5 as he screamed at her for killing his son still burned in her mind. His only son.
Was it right that she who had no kin lived, while those who had family waiting for them didn't?
Astrid let out a shaky sigh, brushing back the gold strands from her eyes, readjusting the spiked band on her forehead. She had a plate of cream-stuffed scones with a delectable dish of jam balanced on one hand, while the other grasped a glass of bubbling substance unfamiliar to her. She was in the Presidential Palace. The most happening party in all of Panem was being thrown in her honor. Wide gardens and their fountains were glitzed with shimmering décor that glowed when the lights hit them. Credenza in the indoors ballrooms were piled with ambrosia in forms of pastry, fruit and meat. Fancy-dressed waiters went around serving cocktails and wines. An orchestra on the front porch was in full swing, conducting the party-goers into a rave of ecstasy and frenzied pleasure. The crowds who had been pressing on her upon her arrival had mysteriously decided to give her some space – one that she needed to be mull over her own thoughts.
The blonde girl pursed her lips together, steeling herself. A burst of anger simmering in her chest. Why should she feel guilty about those who had lost? Why should she apologize for the skill and luck that reaped her rewards? The fallen tributes deserved to fall because they were weak. She deserved to win because she was strong.
Well, she had to admit that wasn't entirely true. It might have been so in the beginning, where her strength and proficiency with an axe had dragged her through. But the re-runs that they played of the Games reminded her of the sacrifices and the risks that he had made so that she could live. He had many opportunities to kill her, or just abandon her, but he made sure that she pulled through when he could not. It was right then that she owed his father everything.
But for the other families, they had no right. Why should she be blamed for the deaths of their children? It wasn't as if she killed all of them herself, and even if for those she did kill, it wasn't because she wanted to. That was just how the Hunger Games worked. Why did they blame her then?
Why did she blame herself?
"Great party, isn't it?"
There was so much noise pouring into her ears that she was surprised to have heard the words so clearly, but she did. Astrid angled her head towards to her left, where a tall, lean young man in a navy-blue tailcoat and smooth black trousers was sipping – no, downing – a glass of wine.
"The band they got this time is better than the last," he went on, as if she had agreed with him, swirling the yellow liquid in his hand. "The food's better too, but in smaller variety."
Throwing his head back, he chugged down the rest his drink before turning to her. It didn't escape her that he was remarkably handsome, from the chiseled jaw down to the sculpted build. The new victor also realized that she knew his face, though she had never met him in person. She had seen him on television much more than she had cared to, and she had watched him in his year of Games.
"You're Flynn Rider, aren't you?"
He shoots her a smirk, drawing himself back slightly as to provide a florid bow. "The one and only. You, my dear,-" he took her by the wrist without warning and pried the wineglass from her, an act that could have resulted in the loss of his hand if she hadn't been exerting tremendous self-control "-are way too young to drink that."
He proceeded to wash the liquid from the glass down his throat, let out a triumphant gasp as he swallowed it all. He smacked the base of the glass on the table top as he did. The force was too great and the stem of the glass shattered. The Capitol's most fashionable man merely examined his handiwork with mild amusement before leaving the fragments of glass in a pile for the attendants to clean up.
Astrid observed this with a sense of bewilderment and disgust. Whenever they studied his Games back in the Career Academy, it was always to emphasize the importance of appearance. Flynn Rider was gorgeous, even as a boy, which was why the Capitol had been more than happy to throw their money at him. Clinching victory had only been a matter of time, and becoming the most desired man in the Silver City was, too, inevitable.
Nonetheless, it didn't escape her notice either that there were two victors present at a party meant to celebrate one. Feeling a little threatened, Astrid asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Me?" He snorted at her. "I always come to all the fancy parties, don't you know?"
A waiter passed them at that moment bearing a tray of wine glasses, and Flynn chose to lighten the fellow's load. The minute the glass touched his finger, he almost immediately downed its contents. He couldn't drink this entirety of it though, so he stopped for a breath, wiping the dripping liquid from his chin using the back of his hand. "This isn't half-bad, actually. Want some?"
The blonde girl gaped at him in completely incredulity. "You just said that I was too young to drink it."
"Well, my mistake. Everyone deserves a drink. Especially people like us." He shoved the half-drunken cup into her hand. "Here. Taste it."
Astrid sniffed at the wine glass, peering at the clearly intoxicated man. "Not really into alcohol." She had only tried it twice – once at a party in District 2 in honor of her victory, and again on the Tour train. The liquid still burned her throat and the taste was exceedingly bitter. She didn't understand the rave about it.
"Good. More for me." Flynn relieved her of the glass once again, which he unsurprisingly managed to finish.
Though she could continue watching him for the rest of the evening in repulsed entertainment, something he said struck her. "What do you mean 'people like us?"
"Victors. Survivors. Living corpses waiting for the sweet, sweet surrender of death," he quipped melancholically, staring intently into the Capitol crowd, his stained lip resting against the rim of his empty cup.
The lights had dimmed and the songs had slowed. People held each other and twirled themselves over the marble tiles. They spun around in a manner that was almost hypnotic, the colors of their polychromatic attire gleaming under the glow of the lamps. Astrid found herself entranced by this foreign but dazzling sight.
"Wanna dance?"
She stared at Flynn, who wasn't even looking at her. In a matter of fact, she wondered his question was directed towards her.
The much-adored older victor must have guessed her confusion, for he added morosely, "Well? Is that a yes or no?"
"I don't know how to dance," she excused herself, deciding at that moment to dig into her scones and jams. As interesting as the scenery was, she didn't really want to become part of it.
His response was a scoff. "It's easy. I'll show you."
Before Astrid could protest, she was found herself being dragged away, her plate falling from her hands as it happened. Flynn found them an empty spot on the ballroom, where he serendipitously managed to dump his empty glass on a waiter's. Without asking for her permission, he groped her at the waist.
Immediately, her arms shot out to shove him away, clenching into fists. "Don't touch me!"
It must have been louder than she had thought, for a few heads turned their way, but Astrid didn't care. Her eyes were burning at him.
"What? It's just the dancing position." Flynn jerked his head towards the rest of the dancing crowd. "My left hand rests on your waist. Your right hand rests on my shoulder. Our other two hands clasp each other, then we move around in circles. It's called a waltz."
Astrid turned to watch the other dancers, who had indeed their hands placed in such positions as they twirled around the dance floor. Amongst the party-goers though, there were people staring at them from across the room and she shifted uneasily under the unwanted attention. When he reached to her waist the second time, Astrid didn't pull away, but she did treat him with a narrowed glare, warning him should he dare reach further.
Flynn guided one of her hands to his shoulder, and to hold her other hand in his free one, remarking at the same time, "You're rather short for a Career. You know that?"
The intensity of her scowl only increased. "I'm fifteen. What's your excuse?"
The victor of the 74th Hunger Games allowed the victor of the 69th Hunger Games lead her in the waltz simply because she did not know what else to do. They were certainly not best dance couple that could be, for she could barely keep herself from stepping on his feet, and the alcohol in his system had clearly addled his skill in dancing. Nonetheless, their performance was enough to dismiss the prying eyes of the crowds, who turned their attentions back to their meaningless chatter and sumptuous meals.
"Do you know that I don't like blondes?"
She wrinkled her nose at him as the foul stench filled her nostrils. "Do you know that I don't like your face?"
He let out a good-hearted guffaw. "Quite a charmer, aren't you?"
"Better than you," was her critical snip. "At least I don't smell like an open grave."
"Good analogy." Flynn nodded as they circled around the floor in the romantic atmosphere, though Astrid was feeling anything but romantic. He seemed strangely impossible to offend, but perhaps it was the wine. "I'm a rotting carcass waiting to pass from purgatory, more or less."
"You look like one too," she told him. It wasn't a complete lie. His face was swelling into an unpleasant shade of crimson and his eyes grew increasingly bloodshot as they waltz on. So much for Flynn Rider's dashing good looks.
He didn't reply to her jab this time, which Astrid was fine with. She wasn't completely fond of talking to him – partly because he smelled terrible, partly because there was something horribly unsettling about the words that left Flynn's mouth, no matter offhand they sounded. She hoped that the song would end soon so they could part, but by how the musicians bowed their strings and blew their chords, it seemed that the waltz would not leave its largo pace any time soon.
"I don't usually like blondes," he suddenly said to her, "but I had this dream once. I was dancing with this blonde girl. No, it wasn't you-" he added before she put in a biting remark "-she had green eyes, which are, by the way, prettier than blue."
"Really?" Aforementioned eyes glittered dangerously.
"Absolutely," he answered, missing the threat altogether. "She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen – no more than that." There's wistfulness in his tone that somehow softened the animosity that she bore towards him. "She's like the sun – warm, bright, radiant. You get this gist, don't you? In her, I saw everything I wanted, everything that I'd never dared to hope for and everything that we could be together. Then suddenly,-" his gaze suddenly went unfocused and he broke off. His steps slowed, almost dragging them to a stop midway through the ballroom floor.
A wiser part of her told her to bite her tongue, but the girl's curiosity got the better of her. "Suddenly what?"
"She's just … gone." There's a soberness that seemed to come over him, one that reduced him from a casual drunken eccentric into a lost, even vulnerable, soul. His voice was hoarse. "Night falls. I wake up feeling as if I had just been to Hell, only realize that I'd never really left." The fingers that grasped her left hand almost let them go, and he just stood there, stunned and shaken.
In her mind, Astrid was confused. She still felt disgust towards this coarse creature who had been dubbed the most wanted man in Panem (wanted as in 'desired', not as if he was a kind of fugitive or something. What a thought that would be!), but at the same time, she could not help the tinge of sympathy blooming inside her.
As abruptly as before, his mood changed. He was sweeping her across the floor more as the song picked up pace. Flynn Rider's somber attitude dissolved into blunt honesty. "You're really pretty."
Astrid considered him with slight suspicion, wondering where on earth that compliment came from. "Thank you - I suppose."
"I mean, you are really, really attractive," he continued on, as if the first mention of it wasn't bizarre enough. "I'm not the only person who thinks so."
"Really?" Was he flirting with her? After insulting her eye color and pouring out his heart? Astrid had a huge urge to slap him, but she settled for squeezing his shoulder tight, hardening her gaze on him. Again, the warning went straight over his head.
"I heard them talking." Flynn's eyes darted to the Capitol crowd, before falling back on her. "How old did you say you were again?"
"Fifteen." She was become more and more confused as to where the conversation was headed.
"Got any family?"
"I'm an orphan," Astrid told him, still puzzled.
He nodded, looking grim. "That'll help, but not much."
"Help in what?" There was a huge itch for her to tear her hair out, or tear his limps off. Both were equally tempting options.
"When they get you. No family means that they've got less hold over you, but not much, of course. There're always other things they can use." A shadow fell over his countenance.
"Get me for what?" There was a feverish note in her voice. If he didn't clarify this right now, she would punch him. Hang the decorum.
It was then he drew himself back slightly from her, looking down upon her frustration with condescending amusement. "You really don't have any idea what I'm talking about?"
It took her a while to piece together his odd comments, but when she caught several elegantly-dressed Capitol ladies gazing upon her dance partner with dreamy yet inexplicably hungry looks, it all clicked in her mind.
"How much do you think you're worth?" she heard Flynn say in a casual tone, ignoring how wide her eyes had become. "Fifty thousand? A hundred thousand?"
"Excuse me?" Astrid gasped.
"Well, maybe not a hundred thousand," he mused aloud. "You're still young yet, so you're not experienced enough. Give it a few years, though, if you play it right, you might make it out like a bandit in the Capitol. Jewels, money, anything you-"
That did it. She roughly removed his hold from her waist before twisting his right arm, making him yelp in pain. Adding pressure on the elbow and pushingher weight against him, Astrid forced him down to his knees in the middle of the dance floor. Twisting his arm around harder, her other hand darted forward towards his neck, gripping him by chokehold.
It took her a second or two to realize that those actions had brought the party to a screeching halt. The other party-goers gawked upon the unexpected and rather violent display that unfolded before them. Even the waiters and musicians had their eyes glued to her, uncertain if they should resume their duties or join the freeze. Astrid gazed down at the Capitol's most fashionable man, who, despite being held at her mercy, shot her a sardonic grin. If this was the Hunger Games, he would dead.
But it wasn't. It was her victor's party. She didn't need to kill him, but she did want to. Even so, she knew that would bring her no satisfaction. What she really wanted was for him to take back what he had said, but even if he did, his insinuations still had an element of truth.
"Astrid!" Her Capitol escort came rushing, crying out in dismay that his precious victor had decided of all places the Presidential Palace to make a scene.
She let Flynn go, shoving him hard as she did. But even as he went crashing backwards, he was cackling - clutching his arm in pain, yes, but still cackling. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was because he understood something that she didn't - some inescapable fate that he foresaw in her life based on his own.
There were Capitol attendants helping the older victor back to his feet, as well as admirers who immediately went by his side. He didn't look at them, however, fixing his eyes on his assailant, a pitying smirk playing on his ruddy expression.
Astrid took a step backwards, and instantly she became aware of the crowd staring down at them. Against her own will, she horrifically began to deliberate on how much exactly one of those colorful ... animals would pay for the pleasure of her company.
Spinning on her heel, the girl darted from the dance floor, pushing past the shocked Capitol crowd, letting a stray glass clatter to the ground or having a jam tart knocked into someone's face. She didn't care if their sensibilities were offended. Moreover, she hoped to offend them.
Astrid hitched the gown over her ankles, fleeing into the gardens where the party had gone on, not knowing what had just occurred. She hurried past the faces smeared with rouge and colorants who waved their manicured hands towards her. She ignored offers to try sweetmeats or cocktails. She just needed to get away from this maddening throng.
She might have heard voices pursuing her, but the owners of those voices were not the ones who sprinted ten miles up a hill every morning. The flat-heels of her boots allowed her to escape more quickly into the foliage beyond the party garden. The grounds turned from trimmed grass to packed dirt after she passed through what appeared to be an orchard. While she might have like to examine it more, avoiding any more party guests was on the top of her agenda tonight, so Astrid plunged herself further down the trees.
There might have been a twig or two caught in her dress, and she could feel the elegant hairdo that her stylists' had done coming down. The ground was a little damp, so the silk on the boots were getting splattered on. But she didn't want to stop. Adrenaline helped her to forget the horrible insinuations that he made – insinuations that were possibly be true.
Was she, well, that attractive? Was that all the Capitol people saw when they saw her? Valhalla forbid that she become an accessory like Flynn Rider!
A scowl found its way to her face as she pushed herself harder - faster. If she could have traded all her looks in the world for strength instead, she would have done so a heartbeat. Looks were no use a warrior.
It was entirely possible that she might have run all the way to the end of the Presidential Palace, for she did have the ability to do so, if it wasn't for the most absurd of interruptions.
"There's a snake in my boot!"
Her entire body jerked to a halt at this startling buzz of a voice. Standing between under a large birch, she gazed left and right, but saw no one. Then she noticed something hanging before her.
She may have never had a toy as a child, but Astrid was knew one when she saw one. Unhooking the pull string and loop from where it had been caught in the leafy overhang, she examined that the hand-sewn doll that lay in her hand. By the hat and the blanket stitched vest, she could only assume that it was meant to resemble a farmer perhaps, or maybe some kind of animal herder. She wasn't too sure though – the bright yellow of his shirt and the blues of his trousers made her think of the colorful Capitol crowd, with the eye-sores of constructs that they called clothes. The reminder was enough to make her shudder.
She flipped the toy over in her hand, letting its limp cotton-stuffed limbs flop down on her palm. She eyed the loop attached to the back of the toy and after a moment of contemplation, she decided to hook her finger in it and pulled the string back.
Nothing happened at first, but when she let go of the loop, the buzzing voice emerged from the toy once again, "Reach for the skkkkky!"
"Cowboy? O, Cowboy?"
This was not from the doll, but somewhere from her surroundings. Without even thinking, Astrid adopted her fighting stance, ripping her gown slightly as she did. But she didn't notice this, too focused on scanning the environment the way she had been trained to all her life.
Then, there was a little rustling from the bush in front of her. The blonde girl poised herself for battle, prepared to lunge herself forward, dress or no dress, to meet the foe.
The foe, however, presented itself to be quite different from what she had imagined. A small brown head popped up behind the rustling bush, before the small body it was attached to followed. "Cowboy?"
It was a little girl – six years old, at most. Her chocolate-colored hair consisted short, gentle tufts that stuck up around her ears. Her eyes were not large, but very round. They held no fear, even upon gazing at a stranger. She was dressed strangely, but unlike other Capitol citizens, for the colors she bore were more muted, even pleasant, though for the life of her, Astrid could not figure out how overalls were meant to fit with that frilly pink skirt.
"Cowboy!" the child squealed, running towards her, her eyes glowing with elation. It then occurred to Astrid that 'Cowboy' perhaps was the title of the toy.
"Oh, here." She proffered the doll awkwardly to the girl, who happily accepted it.
The child cradled the toy affectionately so gently that you almost imagine that it was a baby. Though Astrid fully intended to walk away now that she had restored the item to its owner, she couldn't help but watch enchanted as the little girl gabbled something excitedly to her 'Cowboy'. The innocence and joy that was revealed to her made her smile. She almost forgot about the horrid events that had transpired.
Almost.
In an unfortunate moment, the owner of the toy chose to gaze up at the blonde girl and she let out a delight gasp, covering her mouth immediately with a small hand. "You're the victor person…uh…uh, Astrid! I saw you on television!"
It struck Astrid that she could deny it. The girl was probably too young to know if she was being lied to, but somehow, instead – "Yes. Yes, I am."
"Wow," the little girl made a large 'o' with her mouth as she said it, pupils widening to gape. "You're really pretty."
"Thank you," Astrid said uncertainly. It was the second time she had heard that tonight, and though this deliverance was probably more sincere than the first, it still didn't sit well with her.
The toddler didn't notice her uneasiness, however, for she was absorbed in a conversation with 'Cowboy'. She whispered something to her doll, and then brought the doll's head near her ear in anticipation of reply, nodding while muttering 'uh-huh, uh-huh, I like that idea.' Then the brown-haired girl dropped both of her arms behind her and faced the taller stranger.
"Cowboy wants you to play with us," was the message the little girl 'relayed' from her plush friend. "Will you?" She tucked the doll under her arm, then placed her two palms together. "Please?"
A refusal was on the tip of Astrid's tongue. She wasn't supposed to be this deep into the President's gardens. She was supposed to be celebrated and admired back in the party grounds. But then she remembered how furious her Capitol escort looked, and the tauntingly smirks that decorated Flynn's countenance, and that haunting possibility of a doom hanging over her head.
"Okay, why not?" She was in no hurry to return.
The little girl was extremely enthusiastic about dragging her newfound playmate to another section of the gardens, to a square that held a fountain. Astrid noted that on the ledge of the fountain sat an assortment of toys that she had never seen before. Some of them were plush creatures. Others were made of hard plastic or rubber. One of the toys which resembled a dog actually had a spring coil for an abdomen, something that she found rather fascinating as a design. Another of them appeared to be a lump of potato studded with plastic pieces that formed on it a rotund face and body. There was also another cotton-stuff doll seemed to be a female version of 'Cowboy', sagging from her sitting position.
The little girl noticed her examining the doll sitting by the fountain, so she scooped it up and held it towards her. "This is Cowgirl. She and Cowboy are both from District 10, because they look after cows."
Astrid blinked as she absorbed this piece of knowledge, taking up 'Cowgirl' in her hand. "Oh."
The toy owner darted to another end of the fountain, picking up potato-like toy. "This one is Mr. Potato Head. He's from District 11, because he does farming." There was apparently another potato-bodied toy sitting on the ledge, and the little girl pointed to it. "That's Mrs. Potato Head. She's his wife. She's also from District 11."
She went down the line of toys so quickly that Astrid found herself growing more befuddled by the names of the creatures, their districts and the reasons why they were in those districts.
"Sorry, um-" the blonde interrupted the little girl, only to realize she didn't know her name, "-what's your name?"
The girl said with a cheerful smile, "Bonnie."
"Well, um, Bonnie," Astrid stared down at the toys lined around the circular ledge of the fountain. She never played with toys before, so she wasn't sure what exactly to do "-what exactly is the game that we're playing?"
The little girl let out an adorable giggle. "We're playing the 75th Hunger Games! See." She gestured at fountain ledge. "This is the Arena. It's one big ocean. The fountain-" she pointed at the statue spouting the water "-is the Cornu-Cornu-" she struggled with the pronunciation, then gave up "-the Horn! And these-" she took up one of the toy dolls "-are the tributes!" She made the doll wave its hand all while wearing a delighted beam on her own little face.
All color was drained immediately from Astrid's countenance.
Bonnie didn't see this reaction, deciding to start the game on her own. "Bong-Bong!" she imitated the ringing of the gong. "The Hunger Games have started! May the odds be in your favor! Hurry, Cowboy!" She grabbed her cotton toy, waving him over the water. In a lower pitch voice, she made the doll lament, "Oh, no, I can't swim! What should I do?" Then she threw down the doll and picked up one of her plastic toys – the one that resembled a large green lizard. She play-acted him crying out in a squeaky manner, "I can't swim either! My arms are too short! AHHH!" She dropped him into the fountain pool. "Boom! Rex from District 1 is dead!"
Astrid could only watch in horror as the girl went down the line of toys, flinging the plastic ones into the pool and those not outside the pool, passing her judgment over their imaginary lives, ignorant of how her older playmate trembled. The blonde girl didn't know when it started, but she felt her knees were buckling. Her arms were shaking. She wanted to tear her eyes away, but she couldn't.
"Bsh! Bsh! Bsh!" Bonnie made the porcupine plush toy stab his blunted spines against 'Mr. Potato Head'. "Die! Die!"
"Run!" he cried to his district mate, who disappeared into the foliage of the Autumn Quarter. She threw him to the ground, and her axe. The bones cracked under the force and hotliquidsplattered itself on her face. She was panting heavily, still stunned by what she had just done. This wasit – her first kill. Her first blood.
As the porcupine pommeled his foe, the little girl adopted a low voice, "Argh! It's so painful! Stop it!" Then she made the porcupine bellow an evil laugh, snarling, "Never!"
There was something in her chest – a knife perhaps? Whatever it was, it hurt. Her shirt felt wet and warm, and she couldn't breathe. Her vision started to blot out everything while eyes rolled back. She had lost control of her body and she could feel life draining out of her.
There was a voice telling her to fight the pull. He called her by name. He called her a warrior. She couldn't pay much attention though. She was too busy trying to die.
"Leave my husband alone, you nasty porcupine!" 'Mrs. Potato Head' came to the other potato toy's rescue. "Hyyyyy-yah!" Bonnie made her deliver a kick to the porcupine, who stumbled back and fell off the curb, presumably killed by the blow. The female potato toy was then bent before the male potato toy, shaking her head – which was essentially her body - "No, no, please don't leave me!"
"Hiccup, get back here!" Shouting hurt her wounded abdomen, but she didn't care. He wasn't going to sacrifice for her again. He wasn't going to leave her behind. She wasn't going to let him play hero. Not this time. "Hiccup Haddock! Get back right now! HICCUP!"
But he never looked back. He flew off on the back of the black dragon, disappearing into the sky, on the way to complete some crazy suicide mission, on his way to save her life.
"Astrid? Are you okay?"
That tiny, gentle voice was enough to break her out her haunted reverie, and it was only then that she realized she had at some point ended up kneeling on the floor. Examining her gown, she sighed as she noted how the blue satin was now stained with dirt and mud. The blonde girl pushed back her fringe as she lifted her head towards Bonnie, who was peering at her with great concern. In her arms, she held the stuffed porcupine and 'Mr. Potato Head' with unmistakable affection. In spite of the violence that she had innocuously forced them under, the girl still showed love for her toys.
Astrid felt like shouting at the girl, cursing her and shaking her. The Games were not something to be taken so lightly! But then, when she saw how the toddler cocked her head at her, with her toys held at her breast. There was no malice in her expression, only worried innocence. In District 2, she herself had grown up learning that being reaped was a great honor and opportunity, and despite having watched the brutal killings of Hunger Games re-runs, she had believed it. In the Capitol, the Hunger Games was nothing more than sport – entertainment. Something to keep the citizens occupied in between stuffing food in their faces and sleep. A child like Bonnie couldn't be faulted for imitating what she had seen on television. To her, it was all fed through the screen. She probably thought it was all play-acting, like how she play-acted with her toys.
"...Yes, I'm fine," Astrid finally answered, though cold sweat still trickled down her forehead. She wiped it off with the heel of her palm, putting on a watery smile.
The child, for all the naivety, was observant enough as not to be completely convinced. In a small voice, she asked, "Do you still want to play?"
The elder girl paused, before saying, "Yes, but perhaps-" she looked at the toys scattered around the fountain "-let's play another game."
Somehow or another, Astrid managed to convince her young companion that they make the toys have a race instead. It was still fierce competition between the motley crew, and there were winners and losers, but no one got seriously hurt. It was all just fun and games.
"Ride like the wind, Bullseye!" Bonnie squealed as she made the floppy stuffed horse gallop forward, with the cowboy doll seated on it at the same time. To help emphasize it, Astrid grabbed some leaves that had fallen from the trees surrounding them and blew it towards the horse, who Bonnie decided had suddenly gained magically abilities in flight and rode the wind, jumping past the finish line that they had marked with a trail of water.
"Yes! We did it!" the little girl crowed, jumping around and waving 'Cowboy' and his steed. "We won the race! We are the victors!"
"Winners," Astrid corrected absentmindedly. The term 'victor' had too much history attached to it for her to associate it with simple winning.
"We are the champions!" Bonnie declared, running up to the older girl. She crooked Cowboy's arm up, such that his wooden-carved hand was faced upwards toward Astrid.
With a slight yet sincere laugh, the playmate pressed her much larger palm against the small one of the toy, which set Bonnie giggling in joy. Astrid could not help but beam at the obvious enjoyment the young girl derived from this.
"ASTRID!"
The affected accent was one she had learnt too well from the Tour period. Astrid winced. She was in big trouble.
The company that approached them consisted her flamboyantly dressed and extremely unwelcome Capitol escort, her prep team, a few Peacekeepers and several Capitol attendants. Let out a shriek, Bonnie darted behind the taller girl, probably scared by the crowd. Astrid let her, glaring down the party of killjoys.
"Look at your dress," mourned one of the prep, who gestured at the ruined hem and the tattered fabric. Another one dismayed at the state of her hairdress, while other wept over the state of her make-up. The blonde victor merely sniffed at their comments. She had to kneel down on the stone-covered ground to move the toys around during the game, so it was unavoidable that it got damaged.
"The President's entrance to the party is in three minutes! You have to presentable for it!" her Capitol escort went on, waving his hands frantically. The prep team started fussing more loudly in response.
It was then that Astrid noticed that the Capitol attendants had beckoned Bonnie towards them, which she did with much hesitation. Some of these attendants began to pick up the toys scatter around the fountain base. It was odd how solemnly they did, as if they were participants of a sacred ritual. The Peacekeepers, who Astrid had assumed were here to ensure that she returned to the main party grounds, actually moved towards the little brunette girl instead, surrounding themselves around her.
She watched as one of the Capitol attendants knelt herself before the little girl, seeming to be scold her. Bonnie turned crimson, and her head hung low in guilt. 'Cowboy' was clutched behind her back. The attendant then said something grim, to which the young charge nodded to. The Capitol attendant rose back to her feet, and told Bonnie, "Say goodbye, Miss Anderson."
Magically, all her prep team suddenly stopped their fretting over Astrid, moving aside so quickly that she wondered if they were afraid of this young girl. Bonnie stepped forward shyly, glancing anxiously at all the adults that were watching her, before stuttering out to Astrid, "Goodbye."
"Say thank you," the Capitol attendant said in a hollow tone.
"Thank you," Bonnie repeated, not quite meeting her eyes.
Feeling uncomfortable with all the witnesses, Astrid just nodded, saying awkwardly, "Your welcome, I guess. It was … fun." She peered uncertainly at her prep team and the Capitol team, who had chosen to line themselves up in a straight row respectfully. It was as if this were a funeral, by how they acted.
"Will you come and play again?" Bonnie asked unprompted, her round eyes gazing up at the elder girl.
Astrid looked up at the Capitol attendant who was seemed to be the caretaker. The uniformed woman shook her head. Gazing down at the child, whose expression pleaded her to concede, Astrid's heart went out to her without meaning to. A white lie couldn't hurt much. "Maybe. If I'm wanted, I guess."
This fragment of hope made Bonnie's face light up, but the Capitol attendant standing behind looked disapproving. Astrid didn't care. At least one of them should get to be happy by the end of tonight.
"Alright. Come along, Miss Anderson," the attendant called to the girl, who obediently went by her side. The woman took Bonnie's hand and led her away from the fountain along with the other toy-bearing attendants. The Peacekeepers lined themselves in formation behind them.
"Alright," the whiny Capitol escort clapped his hands together. "We've got two minutes! Two minutes to be fabulous and gorgeous again."
Her prep team hooked their own arms with hers as they steered her down the path to the party. Astrid shot one last look at the company that escorting Bonnie away and wondered. She then asked one of the make-up artists, "Who was that girl?"
The Capitol citizen gave her a stunned look, before letting out an exaggerated giggle. "Why, that's Bonnie Anderson - the President's granddaughter."
Capitol Undergrounds
Butterfly Room
Alarms blared. Peacekeepers marched hastily about. Security control was in full swing.
Next to one of the lower floor laboratories, a door of the storage rooms creaked open slightly. A green eye appeared at the gap, darted back and forth. Deciding the coast was clear, the door was pushed open further, and the blonde girl, with her golden tresses tucked under one arm, tore down the corridor. Frantic voices spilled from the path before her, so she hurriedly took a turn. Panting and heaving, she glanced down at the map her arm.
Rapunzel hadn't managed to get hold of any writing materials from the scientists recently – they had been watching her more closely – but she had managed to swipe a syringe needle. Since the only ink she had in supply was her blood, she used it to write down all the information that she learnt from each escape – deserted walkways, hidden doors, corners for hidden and so forth. These she recorded onto the wooden backing under her bed, into a map of the Undergrounds facilities. It wasn't complete, and she doubt she could ever complete it, but with each try, she noticed it took longer before the Capitol guards caught up with her. There was progress.
Before she attempted this particular prison break, she had copied the map to her arm. Again, there was no ink, so she had used the needle to etch the detail into her skin. It did hurt, but it didn't matter. She could heal herself later.
When she reached Surveillance Post 1, she quickly slunk behind one of the cabinets nearby for the post was still full of Peacekeepers, reloading their tranquilizer guns and waiting for orders. She forced herself to take even breaths. Last time she made the mistake of panting too loudly and that resulted in her getting caught.
It took a minute or two before she overheard the buzz as the communicators of the Peacekeepers sprang to life, giving them new orders to go down to the lower sector where disturbance was registered. Rapunzel allowed herself a small grin. Before ending up at her particular spot, she had started a fire on the lower sector and let a couple of guards see her there. She then took a hidden shortcut from that place and hid in a few empty laboratories before darting over here. Now, all the guards were going where she had been a few minutes ago, leaving the surveillance post empty.
Once she made sure of them were gone, Rapunzel rolled out her hiding place, scrambling to her feet. The door of the surveillance posts was always bolted, but there was a glass viewing point that allowed her to watch at the surveillance screens without entering the room itself.
Her eyes flitted through the names of the filmed areas and compared them to the bloodied map on her arm. Sector 45, which was closest to where she was, was mostly empty, but the adjacent sector was packed with moving Peacekeepers. There was a connecting enclosure between the Sector 45 and the much emptier Sector 53, where she suspected would take her beyond anywhere that she'd had explored before. She had heard the scientists and jailers talking about a place called 'The Scare Floor'. Maybe if she could find it, she could find a way out.
Removing the needle that she had stuck into a clump of her hair, Rapunzel scratched out an addition of her floor plan on her arm, biting her teeth as the new gnashes formed. It took a while but she managed to finish it quickly.
With her new plan in mind, Rapunzel left the surveillance post, following the floor plan on her arm through sector 45, before stopping at the desired enclosure. But when she reached the door, she realized that it was only accessible by card.
She let an annoyed huff at herself. She should have thought of a way to swipe one of those cards. She had to admit though, out everything that she had managed to steal before, she had never managed to get a card. She heard that all staff, from the researchers even down to the Avoxes protected their cards with their life. Without it, she has heard them exclaim, they could be stuck in the Butterfly Room forever – like her.
Just then, she saw the twin doors of the enclosure opening up. Panicking, she spied a large pillar in the middle of the walkway, so she hid herself behind, both arms now scooping up the golden strands. She listened carefully.
She heard steps coming towards her, and sure enough, a figure in a white coat passed the pillar. It was that purple-skinned scientist, the one who looked like a snake. She had spotted him before in the observation deck when they strapped her to the bed and did their examinations. There was this creepy aura about him. Perhaps it was how he seemed to enjoy watching all the horrible procedures being carried out. She wouldn't be surprised if he drank blood or ate human flesh in secret.
He didn't notice her at all, going through the hall and down the corridor, brooding over something or another. Rapunzel cautiously moved out from behind the pillar and spun around, just in time to watch the sliding doors drawing themselves to a close. In a moment of quick thinking, she sprinted forward, hair and all, skidding across the metal tiled floor through the narrowing gap of the doorway. Just as she managed to tug in every loop of her hair, the doors slammed against each other in a finalistic thud. She was in the enclosure.
Dropping the golden cords to rest her arms, Rapunzel scanned her surroundings. This enclosure was unusual, for instead of the normal glass box that the scientists put her in, this one had a long tunneled pathway connecting the entrance to the main body of the enclosure. She walked down the tunnel, hair trailing behind her, watching out for the gleaming lens of surveillance cameras.
The sight that greeted her at the end of her journey was one that she did not expect. It appeared to be an indoor garden, awash with beautiful golden lilies, all line neatly in rows and columns. She stepped forward, slightly dazzling by the astonishing sight. It seemed around fifty or so lilies were grown together on a square patch of enclosed further in a glass cabinet. As far as her eyes could see, there about ten of these patches stretched across these grounds. Walkways were constructed in between these growth spaces, presumably for researches to move around in.
Rapunzel moved down the path between the gardens, not quite able to take her eyes off these golden flowers. There was something remarkably enchanting about them. She could almost imagine that they were glowing in the dim-lighting. It remained her of something, something that should be really familiar…
She noted that there were holographic screens floating around each mini-glass enclosure, bearing numbers in relation to humidity and sunlight strength. There were these little diagrams and graphs on the screen that she didn't understand, but she could guess that these were probably monitors for the health of the plants. Why grow these plants in the middle of the Butterfly Room, she didn't know, and she didn't really have time to find out.
According to the rough floor map she had on her arm, there should be another exit for through this glass garden, so Rapunzel set out to find it. However, just as she made it to cross the centre of enclosure, she heard furious growl and found herself thrown back on the floor.
The blonde girl gasped as the golden locks fell from her arms, sprawled on the cold tiles with her body. When she raised her head, all she registered was that there was a beastly creature towering over her. Shape-wise, it resembled a horse, but its coat was a grainy black and its eyes were a furious yellow. The creature snarled at her, shaking back its mane, making the black locks whip around its angular head like a flame in the wind. The beast gnashed its teeth together, hissing and spitting. Its hooves clapped dangerously against the floor as it approached her. Rapunzel edged herself backwards, an anxious whimper escaping her throat, but the creature continued its march towards her, seeming to grow larger with every step it towards her.
Then, her back hit one of the glass panels of the framed garden patches, blocking any further attempt at escape. The horse-like creature noted that it had cornered its prey. It raised its front legs, kicking up a fury and snorting wildly. As a futile effort to protect herself, Rapunzel raised her arms in front of her head. Any damage caused now, she could heal later – provided she was conscious enough to sing for herself.
Just then, she heard a sharp bark – not from the beast, but a human being, for it was the barking of words. Through her fingers, she watched as the black creature halted its assault upon her and retreated slowly. She heard continued mutterings, quiet commands, and then she saw a dark figure draw-up to the side of the horse creature. The tall, thin figure murmured softly in the beast's ear, and the infuriated snorts calmed. The black horse still ground its hooves against the floor, as if preparing to charge towards her, but it made no move to do so. It was only then that Rapunzel dare to scurry back to her feet, her heart thumping rapidly against her ribs.
"He's a beautiful muttation, isn't? One of the most gorgeous ever made, I must say." The figure ran his through the beast's mane affectionately. "Of course, I apologize for his behavior. You see, he's programmed to maul everyone in here to death. That is, unless I tell him not to." His voice was cold and dead, but like the stallion, his eyes also seemed to glow a silvery-gold shade. "Few are authorized to enter the Garden of Eden, even amongst the working force of the Undergrounds."
"The Garden of Eden?" she found herself repeating without meaning to. The name was strange to her.
"Ah, you probably do not know the story." Even in the dim lighting, her eyes caught the amused smile twisting itself on the gaunt face of her 'savior'. She could see thin lips moving. "It's one from before the time of the Great Disaster, way, way before the birth of Panem. Well,-" the dark figure stepped towards her, and instinctively she tried to step back, only for her to her back to hit the glass once more, "-it said that once upon a time, there was a garden that bore a special tree, one that gave immortal life. Of course, you can see that we have no trees here. Only-" gold eyes flitted briefly to the plants in the glass cases "- flowers."
He was standing about two feet in front of her before she managed to get a good look at his face. His skin appeared to be a pale grey shade. His nose was long and pointed, and his jaw was hard. A memory from the back of her mind resurfaced, and she knew where she had once seen him.
"At the training centre. Before the Games." He offered her a cold smile and a nod. "You were one of the Gamemakers."
"The Head Gamemaker, actually," he rectified her error. "They had since repositioned me due to certain, well, complications of which you might have played a role in creating."
Rapunzel didn't know if she was perplexed or afraid. "I d-don't know what you mean."
"Of course you don't know," he beamed at her patronizingly. "You're just a pawn. I don't expect you to know anything. Come on now,-" He beckoned her to follow down him as he headed down one of the openings "-unless you want me to set him on you again."
Rapunzel took one look at the snorting horse, who was still glaring at her. Seeing that she had no choice, she followed the darkly-robed man.
Down the path he went, Rapunzel realized that the 'Garden of Eden' enclosure was much larger than she thought. Dozens of glass cases bearing little plantations of the gold flowers lining every inch of her sight, and it was only in the very centre of the whole enclosure that there was a clearing, lined with computers, monitors and other machinery. This was probably the central control for the garden.
Besides the machines, there was a small pavilion constructed in the control; one that with roofed and surrounded by colorful, but non-glowing, flowers that were clearly there for decoration only. The pale, tall man ascended the steps of the pavilion, his long robes falling onto the steps as he did. Apprehensively, Rapunzel followed him, her golden hair tumbling back behind her. There was a white marble table in the centre of the pavilion, and the man took a seat on one of the polished stools around it. He gestured for her to do the same, and Rapunzel did, trembling. She wished that she had Pascal here. Pascal always gave her a sense of comfort and security. But then again, she would not condemn her chameleon friend to share her struggles in the Undergrounds.
"Perhaps let us start with some introductions," the ex-Gamemaker said in what was almost a polite tone. "I think it will make it easier for us to be honest with one another." He raised a bony hand towards himself. "Pitch Black. Head of the Undergrounds."
"Rapunzel." Her answer was short so that she could hide how much a voice quivered. There was a bitter note when she added, "Prisoner of the Undergrounds."
"Yes, I'm quite aware." He gave her a thin smile. "You have, after all, been causing no end of trouble to my operatives. We are quite exasperated with you."
Rapunzel didn't reply, but there was a rebellious gleam in her eye, one that was not at all sorry for causing trouble for her captors. After all, what peace did she owe them?
The one called Pitch Black seemed to sense her defiance, but this did not frustrate him. Instead, that nasty smile of his widened. "You have a fighting spirit. That's quite admirable. Unfortunately,-" he let out a regretful sigh, though its earnestness was something that Rapunzel doubted, "-we're moving towards some major breakthroughs, and your constant breakouts are rather distracting. I would like to ask you, plainly, to stop fighting. Please. It's quite pointless. You'll never make it out of the Butterfly Room."
"So you think," she muttered under her breath.
The grey man however had sharp ears. "Oh? You may have yet to experience it, but the entire Underground is booby-trapped. Without the correct passcodes or the relevant documents or, very simply, the wrong identity, you could be drowned, shredded into ribbons or eaten alive. For example -" he inclined his head meaningfully towards the black muttation, who had followed them to the control centre but kept its distance from the pavilion. "It would be most unfortunate if the girl with healing powers was killed before the secrets behind her gift are fully unlocked. Immortality, after all, is a very useful field of study."
As he said this, Rapunzel unconsciously gripped a lock of her hair, bringing it close to her chest. The coil in her hand was a mix of gold and brown – the brown coming from the time that some of her hair got cut in the Arena.
"But that's the problem, isn't it? You have to keep me alive, because you don't know if my hair would work if I'm dead." Rapunzel found herself saying, starting soft but slowly rising in a righteous crescendo. That held the hair clenched itself into a fist." Even if I get hurt, you people have to keep healing me for your studies, and because of that, I stay strong – strong enough to fight you." She rose slightly from her seat, filled with an unusual boldness, staring straight at him. "I'm not afraid of you, so do your worst. I always get back on my feet. One day, I will leave. I'll escape!" She nodded firmly for emphasis. "And you'll never get to use my hair again."
She expected her triumphant declaration to be met with mockery, but the Head of the Underground seemed to take her words quite seriously. He spent a few quiet moments assessing her, before finally saying, "Yes, yes. I do think you might actually have a chance of accomplishing that."
"You do?" Rapunzel sank back down in her seat, shocked.
"No matter what people have claimed, individuals have escaped the Butterfly Room before – precious few, perhaps. But they were talented individuals." He murmured these thoughtfully, as if he were speaking to himself and not to her. "Do you have that ability? Probably. The determination? Likely." He hummed in thought. "It is possible that I've underestimated you thus far."
"You have?" The girl was still stunned by the frankness of this declaration.
He cocked his head toward her, a fresh steeliness entering his gaze. "Maybe, then, I should give you an incentive."
Rapunzel scoffed at him, her back drawn up straight and proud. "If you're trying to cower me in submission, it won't work. Like I said, there's nothing you can do that can really hurt me."
"Perhaps, perhaps," Pitch admitted, pulling back his black sleeves. "But maybe I don't need to hurt you." One thin, spider-like finger drew itself across the marble surface of the table. In an offhand tone, he said, "Tell me, my dear, on a scale of one to ten, how much affection do you still bear towards a certain Flynn Rider?"
She blinked at him, startled. "What?"
"I admit it's probably been a long time since you've seen him, so I completely understand if you completely apathetic about the cretin – I know I am." A sneering sound rumbled from the back of his throat. "Of course, I'm assuming that teary, heart-wrenching farewell embrace meant absolutely nothing."
It took a while for Rapunzel's memories to adjust themselves in her head. After all, she had been focused so long on breaking free from her current prison that she had wasted no time on dwelling on the past. But the words were a trigger to her recollections, and she remembered full well the last time she saw him face to face in the elevator, the one that took her down to the flight station where Hovercrafts would whisk her off to the Arena. Before they parted, she had promised that she would hope, that she would fight. He had promised that he would wait for her.
"And there were also occasions of fond exchanges, if I'm not wrong," Pitch went on nonchalantly. "And also this particularly interesting one…what is it about?" He tapped his chin in an exaggerated show of thinking. "Perhaps something about a false name?" He let out a low chuckle that made Rapunzel's hair stand, setting goosebumps running over skin. "The Capitol adores Flynn Rider. Could you imagine how horrified and humiliated they would be if they discovered that he actually a 'Eugene Fitzherbert'?"
Perhaps something in her expression gave away her bafflement, for he then explained, "There's little that escapes the ears of the Secret Police. It's been known amongst us for some time that Fitzherbert had been parading under another name. We just haven't made it public. Of course-" he spread a palm across his chest in disdainful remorse "-if this piece of information was, let's say, leaked out by complete accident, well,-" he shook his head "-the Capitol would have no choice but to take action. An act of deceit, no matter how small, cannot be tolerated. The Capitol cannot be embarrassed in such a manner. He would be made a demonstration, which I assure you,-" there was a wicked enjoyment in his snicker "-will be torturous, arduous punishment. If he's lucky, infection would kill him within the first few weeks."
"No!" the words flew out before she could stop it, but by the time Rapunzel clamped a hand over her mouth, Pitch had heard it. It told him well enough how not apathetic she was towards her ex-Games' mentor.
"Well, this is part where you and I make a deal," he told her, smug and victorious. "I'll keep this piece of information from reaching to the Capitol public. In return, I expect you to be the model prisoner - compliant and obedient. What do you say to that?"
Rapunzel was conflicted, of course. Part of her thought of throwing the deal back in the ex-Gamemakers' face. After all, she barely knew Flynn – they had only been together for perhaps a week before she was sent into the Arena. Why she should she give up her chance at freedom for his?
But then she thought of the screams that came from the cells adjacent to hers. She thought of the enclosures that she had been led past in the duration of her incarceration. Could she let him undergo that?
Maybe she didn't know Flynn, but she did know Eugene. In that short time that they had spent together, she knew that there was a bond between them. It wasn't love – the Games was not the right environment to nurture such – but there was the possibility of it. A dream of it. A dream that they both shared.
It was then that she realized that she couldn't even bear the thought of him suffering in her place.
"If I do what you say," Rapunzel began slowly, almost not believing the words that fell from her lips, "you have to promise to no harm be fall on him. None at all."
"Promise? A curious choice of words." Pitch noted with interest, reclining back slightly.
"I don't know about you, but I never break a promise," she told him. When he raised a brow at her, she added with emphasis, "Never."
Considering her for a moment, Pitch then said, "Very well then, since it's so important to you, I promise that I will tell no one Flynn Rider's true name."
"That's not good enough," the girl insisted sternly, knitting her brows together. "You have to promise that all your operatives and associates won't harm him."
"You demand quite a bit for someone who's at my mercy, you know," he remarked.
"I'm not at your mercy yet, Pitch," she was almost spitting his name. Even when she was afraid, she had spirit. "If you want my full cooperation, you have to promise that your people won't hurt him, no matter what."
The ex-Head Gamemaker sighed. "Very well, then. I promise that he will not be harmed by my minions or associates, as long as it is within my knowledge. Is that reasonable enough?"
With much reluctance, the girl nodded.
"Good, now it's your turn."
Rapunzel felt a sinking sensation in her stomach as she said, "I promise that I'll be a good prisoner. I won't try to escape anymore. I'll cooperate. I'll-" her lips were shaking "-I'll do anything that you want me to do."
"Done!" He suddenly grasped onto her hand and shook it hard. His grip was strong and it hurt. She couldn't help but wince, for that hand was attached the arm still covered in the raw incisions that was her escape plan.
For the first time since she had arrived here, Rapunzel felt the true weight of her chains.
S/N:
Those were two very long POVs from our blondes. To be very honest, I've been planning to write these scenes for a very long time.
A little warning: I've written quite a lengthy explanation/mini-behind-the-scenes about certain parts of this chapter and what it means and it's quite long. I marked them in **asterisks**, so you can skip them if you're tired of reading so much and if you don't want to spoil yourself in the future. Or, you know, you could just skip everything… I don't judge.
The dance with Flynn and Astrid is inspired by the one Katniss had with Plutarch in the Catching Fire, during the Victor's Party, but without the rebel hint. (I don't even think there'll be a Plutarch counterpart in this AU).
For those who haven't watched Toy Story 3, (SPOILERS, but seriously, why haven't you watched this?) Bonnie Anderson is a cute little girl who ends up inheriting Andy's Toys. If you can name all the toys mentioned, I salute you. That said, as I haven't decided if I want to include more human!Toy Story characters, it might be possible that a human!Woody and gang might turn up later. For now, they're just toys, and of all things, Bonnie is President Lotso's granddaughter.
Golden Glowing Flowers? Hmmm…does that ring any bells?
Rapunzel's segment is based on the scene in Tangled where she bargains with Gothel for Eugene's life in return for her cooperation. I don't think I can say more about this part without giving spoilers.
**If you don't understand what Flynn was implying when he asked Astrid for her age and told her that there were people who said that she was attractive…you've either never encountered the original THG material, or you're really innocent (which is good for you). I'm still deciding how much or little I will talk about this. It's not horribly important for the plot, but it's pretty important for character development. For all THG watchers/readers who still don't get it, note that Flynn's position in this AU is based heavily on Finnick Odair (yes, I finally admit it outright). There're two scenes in the book where Katniss contemplates on how her position as victor could end up being much like Finnick's, which inspired the conversation here. Unlike Katniss though, Astrid doesn't have a love story to protect her from getting propositioned, but at least she's an orphan. It helps tremendously when you don't have people you care about.
The scene where Bonnie re-enacts the Hunger Games with her toys is actually inspired by a scene in The Hunger Games movie where Haymitch watches a pair of Capitol children pretending to kill each other while their parents watch on lovingly. Making the toys play '75th Hunger Games' around a circular fountain also mirrors the 75th Hunger Games in the books, which took had a large water centre (because it's likely that I won't be doing a 75th Hunger Games with these stories). I actually felt quite horrible when I wrote this part. I might have subjected my dolls to cruel storylines when I played with them…
Basically, despite the top half segment being all in Astrid POV, she's not the star here. Flynn and Bonnie are. Flynn, despite having achieved so much as a victor and being so handsome, talented and smart, has little choice over his life – or even his own body - which is in the hands of the Capitol. On the other hand, Bonnie, who though is now unremarkable and innocent, as the granddaughter of the President will probably one day have power over the lives of others, represented by the way she has power over the lives of her toys. Basically, Flynn's a toy. Bonnie's a player. Astrid's starting to realize that she risks becoming the former. Being a victor isn't that awesome after all, is it?
Why do I write all this stuff here instead of putting it in the story? Because I can't put it in without disrupting the flow.**
I am sorry that the pace for the story is quite sedate at the moment. Don't worry – war is brewing. You will get your blood. But there's a lot of character development that I've yet to cover, and some important plot points to bring out. Beforethere can be battle, there must be things and people worth fighting for.
Up Next: Someone else also makes a comeback (*coughs*was supposed to be in this chapter*cough*). I'm not very sure what else happens. It could be chaos, it could be peace. It's mostly like chaos though.
A/N:
I'll be disappearing for vacation for a while, so I'm afraid the next update after this would probably be in July.
That said, I have a beta! Thank you SpinItHypo for offering to help me out here! Grammar shalt flee mine presence!
…And I've just massacred archaic talk. Yay.
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skyline 10: I do think I have a plot twist or two up my sleeves, so I do look forward to spinning it. Hope you enjoy this! Thank you for your review!
As usual, I would love to hear your thoughts about this chapter.
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