Chapter 8

Everything I Ever Wanted

Drusa

I have everything I've ever wanted. I live in a house in victor's village, far away from the foul Vinicius but next to my mentor and one of our most beloved victors, Emilianus Blonski, and my sister, whom I never really liked yet didn't want to leave with Vinicius, lives in the back rooms of the house when she's not at the training center and I never see her. I know she's safe, I know she's comfortable. I don't have to talk to her at breakfast. Two sweet little children play at my feet during the day while their mothers work, a strong-willed boy and girl. The boy, Aetius, is the image of his father, blond and already big for his age, while the girl, who has my first name and now my last, is dark-headed and dark-eyed and slight, but no less stubborn than her bigger half-brother, having learned the words "no" and "mine" and using them often. They like to sleep in the same playpen – I don't know why. They don't ever actually play together, but I guess that's normal for their age. It's even better than I dreamed it would be.

But I can barely sleep at night. I know from the intel meetings I'm allowed into that Spruce Banner is alive, transformed by experiments in the Capitol but alive and apparently healthy. Clint Barton is also alive – he was hijacked and tortured, and the rebels keep him safe at their base instead of sending him out like the others, but he's alive. I had to hide my joy at the revelation, and pretend to be annoyed that the boy who "stole my glory" had survived his ordeal. I know, from propos the rebels themselves released, that he's allegedly engaged to Katniss but I'm not sure if it's real or just for show. I know nothing else about his condition – I drop off information with secure contacts but I receive practically none.

When I'm not being asked to sit in on intel meetings, arranging information drops, or filming ridiculous propos, I fill my hours practicing my talent – it's no longer a joy so much as a thin refuge now. Even as I stretch and leap and memorize steps, I think about what's going to happen when the war is over. Both outcomes seem equally likely at this time.

If the Capitol wins – everyone I fought for will die. It's inevitable that my involvement will come to light, and I'll be executed as a traitor, and it won't be quick. My sister and the mothers of my adopted children will be considered guilty by association. Anthony, Stephen, Katniss, and Thresh will all be executed publicly, and also not quickly. Lieutenant Coulson, being an anonymous District 13 soldier, save for a memorable soundbite, may be lucky enough to get a bullet in the head, but I doubt it. The Hunger Games will continue as they always have. Aetius and little Drusa, if they're not killed as well, will probably go to the Academy, and they may one day volunteer …

If the rebels win, I am unsure what to expect. Lieutenant Coulson told me there would be lenience for victors and Peacekeepers, and I want to believe him even though I know it was in his interest to tell me this whether it was the truth or not. In any event, there is a possibility of mercy, which is more than can be said for the rebels if the Capitol wins, and the Hunger Games will end. Aetius and little Drusa will never endure the things I did. Obviously, this is the outcome I'm hoping for and it's not hard to motivate myself to gather whatever meager information I can to help.

I know what they did to Spruce's village – I had to watch the footage and not flinch when I watched men, women, and children being shot as they fled their burning homes. I even managed a derisive laugh. I know what they're planning there – I'm sure Fury suspected long before I passed on the information. Surely they won't let him go home – not with that information in hand?

I'm practicing, trying to be quiet because it's naptime, when I hear little Drusa start to cry. I hurry to her playpen, hoping I can comfort her before she wakes her brother, only to find I have no such luck when I hear Aetius start to cry as well. I have a woman who looks after them most of the time, but I can't stand to let them cry. I lift little Drusa first since she was crying longer and try to make her smile. I'm not very good at it, but I feel better than doing nothing.

Then, my day continues to get better. Clove comes in, holding a bunch of papers and a pen. Which means she wants me to sign something even though she's an adult now too – which means it's major. I already paid her tuition so either she wants to get married or she needs me to sign the papers that agree to …

No.

"What's this?" I ask even though I already know. I set little Drusa down in her playpen in case it gets physical.

"They're recruiting for new Peacekeepers," she answers evenly.

"No. You're not eighteen," I say flatly.

"I will be in a few months – and they're recruiting as young as fifteen now."

"No. You've still got your training and …" Sure enough, she shoves me hard.
"Wake up, Drusa! There won't be Games this year! It's my only chance to make a name for myself."
"You don't have to do this, I'll pay for …"
"It's not about having to!" she shouts, like I'm being a complete idiot, and the babies start to cry harder. "Do you know what it's like to live in your shadow?!"

"I … I …" Nothing in me wants to do it. I want to keep her here safe until the rebels storm the Capitol. But that's not the part I'm playing. "It'll be different from the Academy, they'll expect more discipline …"
"I know that. They're taking kids directly from the Academy and some of the younger victors. They're making us an elite team. You could probably join if you wanted …" They may force me to – but probably not. I'm more useful for propos and I can always claim the babies as my responsibility – the last thing the Capitol needs is to show themselves tearing women away from their children, adopted or not.

"It's … If it's what you want, I'll be honored to see my sister serving her nation," I say, and I manage to keep a straight face. It helps that the nanny comes in and lifts the babies to comfort them, and the crying immediately slows down and it's easier to think.

"Yes! Yes thank you!" she cheers with terrifying delight. I take the pen from her and look for the spot for my name on all the papers, and sign with a steady hand even though inside I'm screaming.

"I think that's everywhere, look it over before you turn it in," I say I after I've signed my name. I wrap my arms around her so she won't see the tears I can't hide anymore.

"May you bring honor to the mother who bore you, to the father who beget you, and the land that molded you," I say softly. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

At least this way she'll probably be safe if the Capitol wins the war, if she lives that long. Oh who am I kidding? They'll accuse her of sabotage or something – it won't matter.

As soon as she's gone, I go to take a long bath so my tears can fall into the water, camouflaged.

Author's Note

The good news: I found a lab, so I get to stay in grad school. The bad news: I am starting the take-home portion of my first year exam, and that will be about ten days and then we have an in class final on May 30, so updates will continue to be slow at least for the next two weeks. But due to my mentor taking off in June, I may actually have a month off to write (woohoo!)