READ THIS FIRST: From this point on, the story will be told in third person instead of first. I'm doing this for two reasons, one, to frame the first chapter as a sort of prologue, and two, because last chapter was literally my first ever attempt at first person, and I honestly don't think I can write the whole story that way. It just isn't my style.
I've done a lot of debating with myself about where I'm going to go with this story. Originally I'd planned to start out between Hunger games and Catching fire, and just make reference to Percy helping Katniss through the first Hunger games. But now I've decided to at least do some parts of the games, and continue to weave the two fandom universes together. So, with that in mind, it might be a little bit of time before we get to the bits about Katniss and Peeta, even though they're central to the plot. Thanks and Happy reading.
Percy shifted uneasily in his seat. The fabric of his clothing was more than uncomfortable. They were stiff, hot, and quite possibly the tackiest garments every created. So they went perfectly with the rest of his outfit, which included a bright pink wig that poofed out a foot above his head, a variety of jeweled rings on his fingers, and sparkling eyelashes. He felt like a circus clown who'd stepped on a landmine in a costume shop. He tugged at his lace-trimmed collar. Dear gods was it hot out. The capitol's summer air was sweltering, boiling the inhabitants like potatoes over a campfire.
"Stop fidgeting" Annabeth told him from the left. "You'll blow our cover."
He looked up at his wife with a faux glare. She too was disguised in the ridiculous clothing of the capitol. A lime green wig tied in oversized loops that hung behind her ears, a mauve skirt fringed with bangles fell to her ankles, and a pair of oversized orange sunglasses covered her intelligent gray eyes. In Percy's opinion, only she could make this crap look good. She sat with her legs crossed and a tiny leather book open on her knee. Occasionally she'd scribble something down with a black feather quill. As the goddess of archways, a minor position but an important one, she was forever coming up with new ideas or taking note of architecture she found interesting.
"You can't be comfortable in this stuff either" Percy replied.
"I'm not" Annabeth said back, turning a page in her book. "But I'm actually trying to hide it."
A small smile tugged at his lips. Some people would call their little squabbles like that a fight, but after more than eight hundred years together, they knew better than that. Their relationship had always worked a bit like that. They'd get into a squabble, sometimes for fun, because they just loved to tease one another, one of them would get angry, then they'd make up and kiss down by the beach. This trend had continued all the way through their marriage and into the afterlife, and neither of them would change it for the world.
Leaving his clothes alone, Percy looked back over the crowd gathered beneath them. They sat at a semicircular table on a balcony overlooking the Capitol square. A crowd surpassing a hundred thousand was gathered on either side of the road the tribute's chariots would ride in on, their chattering screams of anticipation reverberating off the glass of the surrounding buildings. Some held signs, others waved festive little 'HG' flags, and all of them were dressed in ridiculously colorful clothes no sane person would ever wear. Apparently sanity had a different definition in this millennia.
Percy shook his head. He watched the games every year, he forced himself to, but every time they just made him sicker and sicker. The Hunger Games were like a sick twisted version of capture the flag at camp-half blood. In these games, maiming was not only allowed, it was encouraged. Maiming made for good television, and ultimately that was what the games were, a reality tv show where kids butchered each other. This was what the people of the capitol watched for entertainment. It was an event looked forward to all year, where bets would be made and parties would be held, all ignoring the fact that at the game's end, twenty-three kids would lie dead. These people had no shame at all.
Shameful didn't even begin to describe their actions. Atrocious was more like it.
He and Annabeth weren't alone at their table. The three other chairs were filled by three ghostly figures whose forms shimmered in the light, and who didn't really seem to be entirely there at all. To passersby, they appeared as three round-faced capitol children out with their parents to see the opening for the games. This of course wasn't the case.
At the far end sat Jason Grace, son of Zeus, or Jupiter, as he insisted on calling him. In life he'd been one of the leaders of Camp Jupiter, the half-blood camp who honored the Roman persona of the gods. For a thousand years the Greek and Roman demigods had been mortal enemies, so much so that the gods had used the mist to separate them forever. Until that is Hera had wiped Percy and Jason's memories and swapped them places. That had been an exchange of leaders between the two camps, a way to bring them together for the coming conflict. Jason, Percy, and Annabeth had been among the seven chosen half-bloods named by the second great prophecy to stop the earth goddess Gaia and her army of rampant giants. They'd stopped them, and the Greek-Roman alliance had thankfully lasted past the end of the war.
In the years afterward the two camps had worked together to protect and train the worlds half-bloods, and their rivalry had slowly turned to friendship.
Being the leaders of their respective camps, Percy and Jason had formed a friendship of their own. They had been among the most powerful demigods of their time, and together their battle strategies rarely ever failed. That was why Percy had called him here. He needed advice for the games from someone he trusted, so that meant none of the gods.
Jason's sky blue eyes scanned the crowd critically. A master of the arts of war, he was trained to spot things others didn't. Unfortunately, being a ghost he couldn't lob lightning bolts at the capitol people and vent some of his anger. Camp Jupiter had been absorbed into Camp Half-blood when the flame of the west had moved. They were a single training camp now. A camp that trained murderer children.
"Futuo" he muttered in Latin.
At Jason's left sat Zoe Nightshade, former lieutenant for the hunters of Artemis. Daughter of the titan Atlas, and the namesake of Percy and Annabeth's second daughter, she'd been summoned for her expertise concerning hunting, the forest, and heroines of all sorts. Unlike Percy and Jason, she watched the surrounding crowds with sad eyes. Before her death she'd lived for over two thousand years, and she'd seen eras of war, pestilence and death, and this era was as bad as any she'd seen. Worse, in some ways.
In the middle of the table sat perhaps the most importantly ghostly guest. He was a reasonably tall man with olive skin and the gray ashen eyes of the Seam. He were a drab coal miners uniform, and his gaze stared blankly off into the distance wearing an expression of near-absolute despair. This was Phillip Everdeen, son of Apollo and father of Katniss Everdeen. Several years ago he'd died battling wyrms in the coal mines where he worked, leaving his family behind. He'd been called to this meeting to help his daughter in any way he could. The terror of having his little girl in the arena had hold of him so tight it was suffocating him. No parent could bear to watch their child go through such things. Not without breaking inside.
As the god of heroes Percy was able to call upon the spirits of dead heroes, those who had died battling monsters, or had lived stalwart lives of heroism. Thankfully, these included many of his friends, and his powers allowed him to call on them for advice any time he should need it. Now was definitely one of those times. Getting someone through the games was far different that planning for a game of capture the flag or a quest. Here, there could be no direct interference. Being a god gave him more tangible power, but it also weakened him in many, many ways. All he could really do was watch from the sidelines, influencing the circumstances, and giving the occasional nudge in the right direction.
Percy placed a hand on Phillip's shoulder comfortingly.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly. Blinking, Phillip shook his head.
"It's like something out of my nightmares" he said, voice catching in his throat. "Her or Prim's name coming out of that bowl. One of them coming here, to this" he gestured to the swarming, bloodthirsty crowds. "Now they're all coming true."
"Don't worry, Phillip" Annabeth told him soothingly. "She's going to make it through this. The great prophecy tells us she's meant for something big. It doesn't say anything about her dying, which means she has to live." Zoe nodded in agreement.
"Your daughter has the spirit of a true maiden, Phillip" she obviously felt awkward addressing a man by their first name. In all of her long life, she'd interacted with very few men, and Percy was the only one she was sure she liked. "She would make an excellent huntress. Perhaps when she returns home, Thalia will pay her a visit in the forest and ask her to join the hunt." Phillip gave a weak smile. He'd met the hunters of Artemis when he was a teenager just learning to shoot a bow. His father had introduced him, and taught him to flirt with the huntresses. Unsuccessfully, of course. When it came down to it, Artemis's hunters were basically warrior nuns. Lots of ass kicking, no boys.
"That's nice of you to say, Zoe. But I don't think Katniss will join even if offered. After all she's been through the last few years…me dying, and then coming here, she doesn't seem like a person who'd have any wish to live forever." A long silence followed. Percy felt his pity for the man grow by the minute. Knowing your child longed for death had to be just as hard, if not harder, than watching them fight for their life. It had to make you feel like a failure as a parent, like you hadn't done your job right. That you'd failed them.
"That," Percy said, trying to break the tension. "And it would mean she'd have to give up on guys. She's already got the Mellark kid wrapped around her finger, even if she doesn't know it. Him and her hunter friend, Gale." Phillip smiled a little.
"They're good boys. Just like their father's. Gale has John's determination, and Peeta has Wade's heart…I think he'd be better for Katniss, honestly. He's someone to mellow out her fire, and if he's as similar to his father as I think he is, then he loves with everything he has." Off to the side Zoe was rolling her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Why anyone would refuse being a hunter for something as silly as boys, I'll never know." She shook her head as if she were speaking common sense.
"I did" Annabeth said, closing her book. "And most girls like boys, Zoe. Just because Heracles was a dick doesn't mean all men are scum." Zoe gave a tiny huff.
"I don't think all men are scum" she glanced at Percy. "Just most of them. No offense" she told Phillip. He chuckled.
"None taken."
"The baker kid's what confuses me about all this" said Jason, speaking for the first time in a while. "Percy, you said he was in your dreams, that he's important to the prophecy. But how can he be if he's here? He and Katniss can't both win, and he can hardly have a big destiny if he's just gonna die in the arena." Percy shrugged.
"I don't know. But he is Important, I do know that. His destiny is connected to hers. Really connected. Here, watch" Raising a hand, he projected the final image of his dream above the table for he and his companions to see. Hanging in the air like a hologram was the image of Katniss, surrounded by fire. It crackled and whirled in great tongues along her arms, and blazed in all directions, giving off a bright, golden light that shimmered across the onlooker's faces. In front of her knelt Peeta, drenched in blood. Scars crisscrossed his bare back and marred his handsome face. In his hands he held an unidentifiable object, which he was offering Katniss, a loving smile curling his lips. Percy waved the image away. It really didn't tell them much. But not nothing. "He's going to suffer," Percy said after a moment. "Badly, and for her, I think. Maybe he is going to die in the arena, martyring himself to protect her. Seems like the thing he'd do."
"It does" Annabeth agreed. "Hopefully, it won't come to that." She checked the bedazzled pocket watch that hung from her fur handbag. "The parade's starting soon. We'll get to see who Katniss is up against." She reopened her book and took out an owl feather quill. Since they'd been watching the games she and Percy had taken down each and every tributes name. Someone had to remember the victims. Then they wouldn't die as nameless sacrifices, but as real human beings, with faces, feelings, and families who wept at their passing. It was the least they could do. All they could do, really. What with the law against interfering.
Down below them, the crowds slowly began to quiet as the announcer's voice boomed over the square. None of Percy's crew was really listening, though they'd take note of the names. They'd be honoring the tributes, not the horrible people prancing them about like show ponies before beheading them two weeks later. With a thunderous roar from the crowd, the parade began as District one's chariot rolled onto the runway up to the stage set at the square's head.
Marvel and Glimmer, they were called, dressed in the dazzling jewels that their district was famous for.
"The girl's definitely a Venus child" Jason said at once. "She has that look about her."
"Well of course she's mine, sweetheart!" a dreadfully bubbly voice said from behind them. Percy groaned. He knew that voice anywhere. Groaning, he turned to see Aphrodite, recognizable even in the clothes of the capitol, standing in the doorway to their suite.
"What are you doing here?" he asked in a polite deadpan. Zoe looked like she had something much less civil to say. Though her features looked calm as always, her pale colored eyes were seething with rage. Aphrodite pointed to the balcony three down from theirs. A large, muscular man in a studded leather jacket sat there. He gave them a rather unenthusiastic wave. Ares, god of war.
"Ares and I are on a date. We both have kids in the game you know. Isn't that why you're here?"
"No" Annabeth snapped irritably, marking her place in the book. "Like we've told you before Aphrodite, neither Percy or I have any demigod children with mortals. Only each other, and they're all in the underworld." That was true. Among the Olympian gods, only Percy and Annabeth were anything near monogamous.
"Oh, right" Aphrodite waved off the answer indifferently. "Why don't you come sit with us, Percy? We'd love the company." She said it with such playful enthusiasm it made Annabeth want to scream. The love goddess was treating an event centered around gladiatorial combat between children like a Justin Bieber concert, though gladiatorial combat was only about half as terrible as a Justin Bieber concert.
"No thanks" Percy said through gritted teeth. "We're visiting with old friends, actually" he gestured to the three ghosts. "But maybe some other time."
Bidding them goodbye, which for Aphrodite included kissing Percy on each cheek like, the goddess left their balcony. Percy slapped a palm to his forehead.
"I hate them both so much" he mumbled. "They make me ashamed to be a god." They did. Of all the gods, those two had the most demigod children, a lot of whom ended up here at the games.
"You're twice the god either of them is" Phillip told him, face etched with genuine sincerity. "You know what it is to be a man. You actually give a damn about this world. Not like them, not like my father. He drives the sun chariot overhead every day, yet he doesn't do a thing." He shook his head. Percy smiled gratefully. The years had taught him to be mostly indifferent towards the other gods. His father he still loved, but they were distant now. The other gods didn't support the games, well, except for Ares, but they didn't actively try to stop them either.
By now the district two tributes had already reached the stage. Cato and Clove.
"A son of Mars, definitely" Jason said of the boy.
As each chariot arrived Annabeth took down the names. Tim Montley, a fisherman boy from four, Ginger Tyler, a fox-faced girl from district five, a daughter of Hermes. Thresh and Rue from eleven, and finally, Katniss and Peeta.
There were gasps and cheers as the district twelve chariot arrived. Even the watching gods found themselves astonished. Unlike past years where district twelve's tributes were dressed as coal miners or sent naked and dusted in coal dust, Katniss and Peeta wore all black suits with capes and headpieces that were engulf in flames. The pair appeared to be ablaze with fire, and the two of them raised their joined hands, earning an elated eruption from the crowd. Their faces were projected up onto the giant monitors. Katniss was actually smiling. That was rare for her, not a lot could get her to show any emotion at all. Apparently the boy was already having an effect on her.
"Katniss Everdeen" Percy whispered. "The girl who was on fire…just like in my dreams."
With all the tributes gathered before the stage, President Snow took to the podium. His arrival turned Percy's blood to ice. Snow, the current day Hitler. A man who had more blood on his hands than even his father, Hades, god of the dead. That made him Hitler's half-brother. They both shared a morbid fascination with pain, death and suffering, and could summon a legion of skeletal warriors to fight in their name. Percy would've incinerated him on the spot, Hades would see that as a challenge, and a war would break out amongst the gods. A war that would cause more damage than any human war ever could.
"Welcome, welcome, one and all, and happy Hunger games!" Snow boomed in a poisonously cheerful voice. The white of his beard made him seem like Santa Clause, while his gaunt face and bony features made him seem more like Jack Skellington. Snow continued. "Tributes, I applaud your courage and conviction. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor." Percy had had enough.
He stood up.
"I'm done with this. I think it' about time we went to talk to your brother Haymitch, Annabeth. See if he'll let us help. We can go wait in his room, bribe with some Olympian wine and maybe he'll talk to us." He turned to his ghostly friends. "Thanks for coming you guys. We really appreciate the help."
"No problem" said Jason. "We took down the giants, taking down a dystopian hell-scape should be a piece of cake."
"My pleasure" said Zoe.
"Of course," said Phillip. "Before you go Percy, I have to ask…may I talk to her, to Katniss?" his eyes fell to the floor.
Percy had been expecting him to ask that. He'd considered doing it earlier, showing Katniss her father's spirit to gain her trust so he could offer council further down the line. Now however, with the games just two weeks away, doing so was much riskier.
"After the games, I promise. Going to her now would only upset her, and she needs to be focused if she's going to win. Phillip nodded.
"I understand," there was sadness in his voice, but it was understanding silence. "Good luck with Haymitch. He's a stubborn man, that one. And better at holding his liquor than Dionysus himself. Goodbye, my friend." With that, and some friendly waves, the ghosts faded away and returned to their place in the underworld.
"Shall we?" Percy asked, offering Annabeth his arm. She took it, giggling.
"Certainly, Mr. Jackson." Percy grinned as they left the balcony. Despite the situation, this was still awesome. He felt like he was in a James Bond movie, infiltrating the enemy's base. Well, like in a James Bond movie, this enemy base would go up in flames before the end.