I don't remember what happens after my name is drawn. When I watch the recaps of it on television, it seems like I am not the girl who walks up onto the stage somberly. I am not the girl who stands there in front of my entire Republic with faraway eyes and a rigid posture. I am not the girl who listens in mute silence as the name of a twelve year old boy– Pan Pastures– is drawn for male tribute, his little legs shaking as he joins me on stage, crying as he shakes my hand.

The cameras pan out, music playing in the background as the television screen moves on to Republic Dódeka. The escort flashes on screen, wild blue hair and a confetti cracked smile.

I stand up then, walk numbly out of the train car and to my assigned room. The bed is bigger than half of the space, with silk sheets. I throw myself upon it.

After the drawing we were taken to the temple in the middle of town. The Guards allowed us to see our loved ones before we boarded the train headed to the Capital. My mother came in with Arion and Despoina. She didn't say anything. Arion didn't understand what was going on. Despoina was the only one who spoke. She told me I had to win, that I had to come home so we could plant the strawberry bushes together in the garden for summer. I told her I would try my best, to keep my shoes' toes turned out so the faeries would stay at bay.

She cried.

I didn't.

My mother let me hug Arion goodbye. She gave him to Despoina and told her to leave. Despoina did. Mother grabbed my shoulders then, pushing me back for inspection. Her gaze was hard, mouth turned down at the corners. And then she said, "You do whatever you have to– you come home."

"Mom," I began, but she cut me off.

"I mean it, Kore. I will not lose my daughter. Not you. I will drag this world through Hell if you are gone, I will." Her face was stoic, completely serious. "You are not a starving child who breaks at one foul swoop. You are strong, and you know how to use your hands."

I nodded, swallowing something like fear in my throat. "I'm going to have to kill someone, aren't I?"

"If you want to win," she said. "Do not think of them as people. Think of them as rabbits, invading the garden. They will kill the life that grows there. You must get rid of them. Make them think of you as a flower, Kore. Something precious and demure. But remember, my Kore, even the most beautiful of blooms can be deadly."

The guards took her away then, my mother giving me one last glance before the door shut behind her. I sank down into one of the plush chairs in the room, covering my face with my hands. I didn't expect anyone else to come in, but then the door opened. Charon stumbled past the guard there, rushing over to me and pulling me into a tight hug. The first words out of my mouth when he pulled away were that I was wearing his pin. He said I had to keep it, to wear it for luck.

I nodded.

He hugged me again and told me I could do this; he would be rooting for me. After he was taken away I was alone. Iris came to escort me to a car within the next ten minutes, and along with her and Pan we boarded the train that is to take us to the Capital.

It's bigger than I would have thought, endless cars decorated with lush fabrics and an abundance of rich foods. I tried a scone for the first time today. I nearly choked on it. I wish it would have just killed me. Saved the other tributes the trouble.

I'm so busy moping face down on the bed in my train car that I don't hear the knock on the door. The person lets themselves in, which I am aware of and turn to see a pair of deep eyes on me. The man is tall and broad, in his late thirties with tanned skin and dark hair. His smile doesn't reach his eyes. Prometheus Manthano. God of intelligence, humanity, and fire. He won the games the last year my mother's name was in the drawing.

We never see him around Republic Énteka anymore, even if he has a worship room in the main temple there. He chooses to live instead in the Capital. Usually he isn't the mentor for the tributes either. There aren't many winners from Énteka, but enough that Prometheus can stay in the capital while the Games are going on. Typically.

"Kore isn't it?" he asks, leaning against the doorframe without a care in the world.

I clear my throat and nod. "Yes, sir."

A dark chuckle slips past his lips and he walks into the room, shutting the door behind him. I startle at this. I've never been alone in a room with a man before. Besides Charon, but he's too much my friend to ever make my nerves spike the way Prometheus just has.

He sits on the edge of the bed without invitation and I recoil, tucking my knees into my chest as I lean back against the pillows.

"It's not sir," he says. "Just call me Prometheus, please."

"Okay," I say, my voice sounding small.

For a moment, there is silence in the room. Prometheus studies me, takes in the odds and ends with a professional sort of eye. I begin to grow even more uncomfortable, wanting to cower but something in me says I have to tough the anxiety out. I keep my knees pulled up, but jut my chin out defiantly, meeting Prometheus' gaze when he finally looks at my face. This seems to please him, gives a sound nod to me and reaches into the back pocket of his trousers to take out a pack of rolled cigarettes.

He puts one in his mouth, offers the pack toward me and I shake my head. I've smoked before, of course. Nearly all the field workers adore tobacco. But it isn't my favorite thing in the world. I always preferred poppy shots instead, even if they are a bit more dangerous.

Prometheus takes my refusal in silence, producing a matchbox from the breast pocket of his shirt. "You mind?" he asks, to which I shake my head. He strikes the match and lights the cigarette, taking a puff before blowing a smoke ringlet into the room. "Once the stylists clean you up a bit, you'll be pretty," he says, all business about the compliment. "You got some big eyes on you, kid– use 'em."

"I can cry on command," I say, many years of experience from trying to get Plutus in trouble when he pissed me off.

Prometheus smirks, blowing another puff of smoke. "Good. I don't think you should go all-out with it, but during the interviews when they ask about your family, get glassy eyed."

Blinking, I look down at the bedspread, leaf patterns swirled into the silk. Not five minutes ago I was wishing I would have choked to death on a pastry at dinner, and now I'm sitting here with one of the most famous Victors in history, a God no less, discussing strategy plans like they're the weather. Hysteria bubbles in my chest, absolving into a fit of giggles.

Prometheus looks at me as if I've grown a second head. "Hey, kid, I can't work with crazy."

I laugh even harder at that, doubling over on myself. "I'm not– I'm not crazy. I just, I– ha. I can't believe this is happening!"

Sighing, Prometheus dashes out the cigarette on his boot, marring it. He probably has countless pairs just like them at home, but they're expensive leather so I cringe a bit at the act. "Well," he says after a moment. "It's happening."

I shake my head, wiping my hand across my eyes which are watery from laughing. "Yesterday I was weeding the fields and eating half-rotten fruit. Now I'm headed to my death and tasting ambrosia for Gods' sake. It's awful, by the way. How can you stand the sweetness?"

"It serves the purpose for when you want to get shitfaced pretty well."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say, fingering the narcissus pin on my chiton. There are fresh clothes in the nightstand just across the room, but the silk of them is too fine. I'd feel too out of place in them.

"Listen," Prometheus says after a moment. "I wasn't supposed to mentor this year. It was supposed to be Tethys, but I subbed in."

"Why?"

"Your last name's Hagne."

"So?" I ask, staring at him suspiciously. "My mom never got rid of her maiden name when she married."

"I know," Prometheus says. "Demi's pretty proud of the family name, always has been."

"How do you know my mom's name?" I ask, suddenly standing from the bed. "I never said it."

"I know," he repeats, remaining seated all calm and cool. "You didn't have to. I've known Demi since we were kids… Last time I saw her was before my Games. She was pregnant then– we'd just found out three days earlier."

"You mean you…" My vision becomes hazy and I sway on my feet. "Oh, this is just lovely... What a nice joke, there. You and my mom–" I start laughing again, shaking my head in disbelief. "You're kidding."

"No," Prometheus says.

"Prove it, then. What's my mom's full name? My sibling's name? Their birthday?" Surely this is all some kind of hallucination. Maybe I really did choke on that scone and this is the scenario the lack of oxygen to my brain came up with.

"Your mother's full name is Demeter Sito Hagne. She's thirty-seven. She was born in August, but no one remembers the exact day because there was a thunderstorm and no one could tell if it was night or day. Your brother's was Plutus Iason Hagne. He would be nineteen on the tenth of June. His first word was 'bobbit' and he could do a backflip by the time he was five."

The world spins a bit.

I sit back down on the bed, folding my hands in my lap. And the first thing I can think to say is, "So Mom does remember who Plutus' father is, I take it."

"Yes," Prometheus says, smoothing his hair away from his face. Plutus used to do that a lot. "She wrote to me about him, when the baby arrived. I was on my Victory Tour, and we both agreed that, well, it was better the world didn't know I had a child. The Capital wouldn't have liked that very much…

"Back in my days I was often…wanted. It was a hefty price the Capital was not willing to give up, and a guy attached to a child, well then I'd have to settle and lose the playboy appeal. They wouldn't like that. So your mother and I agreed to keep the kid a secret. She married your dad after that– good guy. I always did like him."

"You know Plutus is dead, don't you?" I ask before I can help myself.

Prometheus' face turns somber. "Yes. Had I been able to help, I would have. I wanted to send money, but the Capital would have traced the transactions… I managed a few gifts on his birthday, though. When he was younger."

"So you're where he got the damned ram from?"

"I take it you didn't appreciate the gift?"

"No," I say, frowning. "Kriophoros bit me all the time, and butted me… But Plutus adored him."

Prometheus smiles, taking another cigarette from his pocket. He lights it, watching as the match burns itself out toward his fingers. The fire doesn't even faze him as it touches his skin. I know it's because he barely has any feeling in the nerve endings of his hands. Or arms. The Capital was able to salvage basic mechanic feelings, but other than that the nerves are dead.

During Prometheus' Games, the arena was nothing but a dying wasteland of forest. All of the plants had dried to a crisp, and when the last five tributes were left, Prometheus set the entire place on fire. He'd grabbed a pack at the beginning of the Games that had a basic sterilizing agent for wounds in it, which he doused a clump of dead thistle bushes with before throwing a match on it. I don't think he'd anticipated the explosion being as big as it was, though. It burnt his hands up pretty well, but not bad enough he couldn't make it to the lake nearby as the arena went up in flames.

Almost all the other tributes died far away from him, except this big, brutish guy who made it to the edge of the lake before collapsing. He was screaming and burning and begging to be put out of his misery. And Prometheus, by some miracle, got out of the lake and strangled the kid so he wouldn't have to burn alive. No one understands how he could do it when his hands were so messed up from the explosion, but he did, even while gagging on the smoke. It's how he twistedly earned the title of God of humanity– not letting that kid suffer. Earning title over fire is self-explanatory. Intelligence is given to most Gods who find a crafty way to kill their opponents.

I take the moment of silence between us to study him a little more. He looks like Plutus, or rather Plutus looked like him. They both have the same blue eyes, and cowlick at the front of their hair. Plutus' teeth were a bit large, like Prometheus's. And their build is much the same. I wonder if Plutus ever even had any idea his father is a God…?

I ask exactly that, catching Prometheus off guard. He shakes his head, dragging on his cigarette for a long while. "Wasn't gonna let him think I didn't want him," Prometheus says. "I loved your mother, kid. I would've loved your brother too, were it safe."

"So every time Plutus said the Capital was full of crooks, he was right?"

Prometheus shrugs nonchalantly, blows a perfectly shaped ring with the smoke. "It's full of phonies, really. The people wouldn't know life if it hit them in the face with a cleaver. The real bastards are the political guys. They're all about money and power and order. Wouldn't want their precious titles stripped away if the Republics didn't listen, would they?"

"Should you even be saying that?"

"No," Prometheus says, pulling the cigarette away from his lips. I take the opportunity to quickly grab it from his hand and take a drag, if only to give some kind of hit to my senses. I've known this man for twenty minutes and already I've found out he's my brother's father, and he doesn't trust the very people who worship him. At least it's nice to know where Plutus got his bitter side from.

Prometheus raises a brow at my move. I just take another drag and try not to cough. This tobacco is more processed than the natural kind I'm used to, even if the cigarettes are hand rolled. "So you volunteered as mentor because you and my mom had a thing, and, my brother. What's that really got to do with me, though?"

"I'm not letting Demi's kid get killed," he says softly. "Not another one."

"So you think I can win this?" I laugh, moving to stamp the cigarette out on the nightstand. Technically it's property of the Capital, so I don't really care if I ruin it. "Apparently you don't know me then."

"Oh, but I know you very well, Kore. Your mom didn't just write to me about Plutus, she wrote about you too."

"She wrote you?"

"Disguised it as fan mail. Easy enough to get past the Capital, since I get tons of it."

I nod, looking down. "What'd she say about me, about Plutus?"

"She said Plutus was just like me and that you beat the shit out of him every chance you got."

Irrationally, I blush. Plutus was Prometheus' son after all. I feel kind of bad, to know his first impression of me was beating the crap out of his kid. "He deserved it."

"Well if he was just like me, of course he did. Your mother gave me a couple of good whacks every now and then, believe it or not," Prometheus laughs, gaze far off.

"Oh, I believe it," I say, remembering all of the times she's spanked me for misbehaving. Smacked me a good few instances too.

"I can see her in you," he says. "Can see your dad, too."

My blush from earlier turns into a full out flush. What I do remember of my father was that he was very funny, and adventurous. Many people have told me he was a good man, and Mother says he always treated her right, and treated Plutus like he was his own son. It wasn't even until Plutus and I were much older that we found out we didn't actually share a father.

"So you're going to help me win," I say, looking Prometheus in the eye. "How do you expect to do that?"

"Your mom said you're in the wheat fields a lot– you know how to use a scythe?"

I nod.

"Good," he says. "When you go in for evaluation with the Gamesmakers, use it. Intimidate the competition. You've got Demi's smile, too. Use it. Show enough charm and you'll have the sponsors falling at your feet. You're going to have allies when you're in there, too."

"I am?"

He nods, a secret smile at the corners of his mouth. "The twins from Ennéa. They're you're friends until it's just the three of you left."

"How do you know?" I ask, suspicion leaking into my words.

"I'm friends with their mentor– Atlas. We have a mutual cause we need to keep you guys together for…"

"But what about the others?"

"Kill them," Prometheus says simply. "You're small– you should be fast. Your mom said you're fast."

"I am," I say. I used to win all the races I ran in school, even got a trophy for it in my ninth year. "I know how to set snares, too."

"Good," he says. "If there are trees, you wanna get up in them. Can you climb?"

"Yeah, but I'm not light enough to get to the top."

"Doesn't matter. The only people who are this year are the kids, but there's only three of them, and one's in the other car yonder. Stay away from him."

"Why?" I ask. In the small interactions I have had with him, Pan seems like a scared little kid, not a threat.

"I don't trust him," Prometheus says. "He'll turn on you the second he can."

I let my lips settle into a thin line, not really believing him, but still cataloguing away his advice. "Okay."

For the next twenty minutes, Prometheus and I discuss tactics, until there's a knock at the door. Isis lets herself in demurely, smiling a megawatt at Prometheus. "Oh, I didn't know you'd boarded, my Lord. I haven't felt the train stop!" She eyes the close proximity Prometheus and I share on my bed.

Prometheus stands, giving me a long look to say a word of our conversation doesn't leave the room. I nod minutely. "It didn't," he says in answer to Isis. "A hovercraft dropped me on the roof."

"My!" Isis says after him as he walks out into the hallway. She follows, whatever reason she originally came into my room for forgotten. "You never cease to surprise me!"

As Isis shuts the door behind herself, I lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling.

Well then.

My mother had sex with a God. My brother was the son of a God. My mentor is a God. He's going to try and keep me alive because he owes it to my mom. He didn't have to say I was kind of like second best in the Demi's kid to save division since he couldn't save Plutus– didn't have to. I could see it in his eyes every time I said Plutus' name. Things would probably be better if I had been in my brother's place last year. He'd have a lot better chance at winning that I do.

But, I have allies.

Or so Prometheus says.

Gods, I hope I can trust him.

a/n: I just wanted to say that I know in original myth Prometheus is not actually Plutus' father, but for the sake of plot, I've kind of twisted that little detail. There will be a few myths I need to manipulate for this story, so if you have any questions please ask.

Also, I was wondering if anything in this story feels rushed so far? I plan to edit once everything is said and finish, but as for now I'm simply letting the story flow at the course which it's, well, flowing. Any critiques are appreciated.

Thanks for reading!