Date: Year 10, February. Six months after Mags' victory.
Mags spun round as she heard her name through the swarming seagulls' harsh calls. She had always though Creneis' docks to be respectable in size, but that was before she had seen Lycorias.
Her eyes widened in delight. "Glynn," she exclaimed.
"Not her," Marquise harrumphed, her ponytail swishing as she stopped abruptly in her tracks.
"Stunning earrings, Ma'am" Glynn said, eyeing the pearls in approval.
Marquise's stiff expression melted, leaving her to beam like a child.
"And Mags, where did you learn to skin animals and weave such soft coats?" The auburn-haired girl teased, running her fingers lightly on the warm mantle Mags had bought in the Capitol.
"I actually have a wicked set of Capitol bracelets for you."
Glynn's face broke into a soft smile. "How nice of you," she said. She straightened proudly. "I have a present too, of the more practical kind, although I wonder why you needed me considering you went cross-district on your own. And on the topic of striking speeches," she said with a slight frown, "this had nothing of a victory tour; no mention of the Games, of Delphin, nothing."
Mags broke into peals of merry laughter. "I think they forgot," she said cheerfully. "Lucian, the escort, didn't come to Four with me because the last minute plans didn't involve him and now it's too late to fix this. I'm sure he realized it even earlier than I did and that he's just as happy as I am to be home." She slipped her arm into Glynn's and smiled. "People came to me because you'd talked to them, especially in the villages, it helped tremendously. Did you stop in Galene too?"
"No," Glynn said, regret creasing her features, "the Captain said there's nothing worthwhile in Galene. He's from there, and he feels strongly against going back." Her tone grew curious. "What's to hate about that place?"
"I'll be checking that stall with the perfumes for dangerous chemical bombs," Marquise suddenly said, making a beeline for the little shop in an adjacent street.
There were no perfumes sold in Creneis, just scented soaps. Mags found herself grinning before she remembered Glynn's question.
"It's very poor," she said, her eyes falling to the ground, seeing Anemone, ruined by harsh work, "there's a terrible death toll in the factories, to the point where the town is relying on the peacekeepers to convince the Capitol that helping them is urgent." She dropped her voice. "The Capitol wants to have peacekeepers in Four, so Galene is prepared to have a center built and send recruits in exchange for better living conditions."
She wasn't brave enough to say it had been her idea before she heard Glynn's honest opinion.
The girl's jaw had dropped. "Peacekeepers, from here? That could be the most awesome thing that ever happened, giving us a whole army, or it could be nip every future attempt at rebellion in the bud." She jabbed Mags' chest with a stern finger. "You better not screw up."
Mags tensed. Way to make me feel confident, Glynn.
"I'll help you," Glynn said with a wink. "And let me show you this before Marquise has no excuse left to give us some privacy," she added, pulling a small notebook out of her handbag. The girl lowered her tone, her eyes locking with Mags'. "You're lucky you landed on her. She doesn't care about politics or Panem, but she likes you, so she's loyal to you. Don't have a falling out."
"I won't," Mags promised, something about Glynn's words making her chest tighten, as if she'd been too dismissive of Marquise. Her eyes fell on the notebook. "So who's interested?" She asked eagerly, her heartbeat increasing.
"I've got a list. A short list really, many of the people I met wouldn't do at all. I imagine you're not holding a charity and want truly competent teachers and promising students to launch the academy off?"
"Yes, absolutely."
Short was quite alright if the people were good. A single mistake among those she hired and she could ruin her academy's reputation before the constructions had even ended.
"I've got a list of fifty-six, thirty-eight as students, people who are good but could become masters, and the rest as confirmed specialists, at least temporarily. Over two-thirds are from Lycorias, but that's to be expected," Glynn said, in a voice that reminded Mags of the time a much younger Glynn had sat on the first row in class, eager to recite her lessons flawlessly. "I've been here two weeks, so I've been interrogating them," Glynn continued. "The first page lists the specialists. There are stars next to the names since I made a first selection, but you'll have the final say of course."
Mags scanned the list. Most of the eighteen had three stars and a handful had four.
She stopped on a name with five stars, frowning at the large NO written on the side.
Vasco Martin, 40, single, childless. Lycorias.
Chemistry, water filtering (hardware and operating), basic electronics and physics, basic meteorology, explains really well.
"Why is he crossed out?" She asked. Vasco sounded great, no attachments and rare skills.
"He's a rebel from the Citadel, Mags, I found out a little late. That's also why he learned so many things that aren't taught in District Four. You don't want the attention."
Mags froze. Citadel rebel. That's what she'd forgotten! Achlys had said they'd been allowed back to the Districts. So it was true?
She had to see him.
"Mags?" Glynn said, grasping her upper arm.
"He's also a chemist who knows electronics," Mags complained weakly, shaking herself from her torpor.
"Mags, don't push it," Glynn said, her voice hardening. "It's going so incredibly well and we're not so short on time that we need a chemist right now."
"Yeah…" Mags acknowledged, her face falling. Her eyes were still on the list.
West Cisco, 47 ***, no family seen, he refused to say anything personal. Lycorias.
Makes and repairs harpoons. Made his own forge, better knowledge of metals and weapons than all of Four combined. Foul disposition, was interested for mysterious reasons. Can't possibly teach children, too rude.
Rio Bones, 36, **** married to Andromeda Bones, 38, *** four children aged 6 to 17. Children aren't opposed to moving. Rio's mother lives with them (housing in Creneis for seven?). Lycorias.
Him: Solid carpentry and design, coordinated ship building and repair for seven years, great track record and reputation, bad hand so can't work as hard but precision work perfect. Very motivated for job, fun personality and great speaker. Obtains shipments of wood from Seven faster than the others (how?).
Her: second mate for fourteen years, did whaling runs in deep sea and oversaw food conservation, impatient but very energetic, skills in record keeping and astronomy.
Mags found herself nodding in approval. West sounded like a gamble, but these two would be perfect. The victor was already eager to meet them, even if she knew much had to be done before that.
She lifted her head back to Glynn, her smile broadening. "It's so nice to see you. When will you be back?"
"We set sail in less than a week, on the fourth of March, finally."
Mags frowned, concerned by the sheer relief on Glynn's face. "You don't –"
"Oh I loved it," Glynn said with a grin, "seeing so much of Four, talking to so many different people, talent hunting for you, drawing the maps… But spending so much time on a ship with the same people day in and day out? I miss my family. I had my own small cabin to draw, thank goodness, but even so I don't have a sailor's temperament. I start to find everyone annoying after a while."
Mags chuckled. She could well imagine. "Anything truly noteworthy?"
Glynn frowned, pensive. "There's a law that states people with three children or more get a free tesserae," she said after a moment, 'I never saw that free tesserae, and half siblings count for half, so we're three alright."
"Yes, I heard that during the tour," Mags said, her expression tight. "I also heard we'll soon have to have an average of three kids per person in the family, starting with our generation."
Glynn's lips parted in horror. "O-kay," she said, taking a deep breath, "I won't ever complain again when my sisters bring up making more babies. It's like their only subject of conversation but I'll encourage them now."
"How many nephews do you have?" Mags said, her voice strained.
"Two on one side, and one on the other with twins on the way, but Jett doesn't want kids and even if he changes his mind, he'll never want four. I thought one or two sounded great," Glynn grumbled. "What's the age limit?"
"Thirty before stuff starts to happen. Like not selling contraception –"
Sharp laughter burst from Glynn's lips. "They'll come and check in my bedroom? You can do a blood test for pills, but they'll what, turn your house inside out for condoms? Check your trash? Put in cameras to make sure the man stays in the woman until the end?" Glynn raised a finger, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. "It might boost male peacekeeper recruits, free porn all day long, yay."
Mags winced through her chuckles at the mental image the questions conjured.
"At least Marquise would stop complaining about her sunburns from too long patrols: a nice desk job, watching others people do all the hard work," Glynn said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
Mags almost choked, mirth and horror bringing tears to her eyes. "You've been hanging out with sailors too much, please stop."
"That's the tip of the iceberg. Sailors are much worse than this. You're so pure, Preciosa." Glynn's teasing smile fell. She pressed her lips tightly together. "Keep me updated on laws that will affect my uterus, please."
Mags ticked at the pure comment. "Ever kissed a boy, Glynn?"
And it was offensive to think that sleeping with a boy was a greater step to adulthood than surviving the Games. So many people had sex without a care because they were bored and thought it would somehow change their lives that the whole mystique of it was ridiculous.
"Marlin," Glynn said, batting her eyelashes. She sighed dreamily. "We were seven and he carried my bags."
"Aww," Mags said, clasping her hands together in exaggerated delight.
"And you know, guys who could grow a beard too," Glynn added with a small smile, "even the same guy for a year actually, until he asked me to marry him out of the blue, as soon as I got legal. You really want details?"
"No, sorry," Mags hastily said, "I'm 'pure', I'll own it. Forget I said anything."
Glynn put a hand on the victor's shoulder. "Mags, you're eighteen. If you don't want to sleep with Kyle after six months, there's a problem. Tell me you have a big reason for waiting, then it's quite okay, but if the desire isn't there, something's not clicking right."
The desire isn't there? Mags bit back a groan. Glynn had no idea.
"I'mwaitingforhimtoask," she mumbled, not believing she was actually discussing this.
Glynn pulled the upset young woman down on the cold pavement and clasped her hands in front of her, her piercing hazel eyes unnervingly attentive. "Again, slowly."
"I'm waiting for him to ask. He's the guy, he should be twice as willing as I am. If he doesn't even talk about it, it means he's not ready, right?"
That he didn't really want to… She sighed. It felt liberating to finally tell someone, despite her cheeks feeling like they had burst into flames.
Glynn frowned and shook her head. "Kyle… He hasn't talked about it at all? That could be linked to his aunt's ordeal. Maybe he mistakes showing interest and being pushy, the nasty kind. You're dating a guy with issues and who didn't seem a leader to me," Glynn bit back a wry chuckle, "not at all…"
Mags groaned. She hadn't even thought that Narissa's ordeal, as Glynn put it, would turn sex into something taboo for her boyfriend. Suddenly, she felt much less self-conscious about her slow moving relationship. She wasn't the problem, Kyle was. And now she had to make him see that there was nothing wrong with… The young woman let her head fall against Glynn's shoulder, exhausted just at the thought of having such an awkward conversation.
"How'd you know about Narissa?" She said, wondering how she could broach the subject with Kyle without seeming too aggressive.
Glynn's face split in a wry smile. "Mum knows enough to embarrass half the town to an early grave. She tells me most of it."
The victor frowned. "Isn't she expected not to tell?"
"Mags, it's hard to keep secrets," Glynn said, something dark flitting over her features. "Ma can talk to me and Papi. It makes her feel better, helps her bounce ideas and keep facts straight, and I love it because we have more interesting conversations than I have with anyone else." She paused, defensiveness entering her tone. "Have you ever seen me blackmail someone? And Mama barely gets paid for this. Her real job is matchmaker, not shrink. She's got her own sanity to worry about."
"Of course," Mags said, really not wanting to fight, "I just wondered. My sister's staying with her right now. Do you think your mother will pick at her brain?"
Glynn laughed. "For sure. Invite Ma over, she'll make you all sit down and talk. You'll be surprised at what comes out of it."
"I'll invite you too then, since she tells you everything," Mags said with a wink.
It might do them good.
She had meant to go back to her mother. She'd told Marquise not to worry, that it was a three minutes' walk in crowded sunlit streets.
Instead her feet had taken her far from the main path. To Vasco Martin's small house.
The door was unlocked. Mags knuckles rapped the door, her throat dry.
"You," a bald man with a thick gray beard and narrow brown eyes said, surprise clear in his rough voice. "Come in, Mags." He gestured to the couch in the tiny living room. "What do you want," he asked amiably.
Mags let herself fall on the old piece of furniture, her eyes taking in the house and the man, tracing the tattoos on his neck, ones she knew covered his whole chest. Her heart was racing, but her mind was suddenly blank.
What did she want from Vasco?
"I'm not sure I get this," she finally said, gesturing all around her. "How you became this, after everything." She cringed at how inarticulate she sounded.
Vasco's thick eyebrows shot upwards. He gave her a small smile, the one reserved for sweet naïve children.
Mags forced her expression to stay neutral.
The man scoffed. "Ten years, do you have idea how long that is?" He said, his face twisting in a sour grimace. "Ten years. I wasn't a soldier. I was a lad of thirty with big ideas on right and wrong who'd been through hell and yet pulled himself together enough to keep fighting. We fought and fought, beyond reason, sometimes beyond hope. Good people were dying and no one was replacing them, because too many had stopped to believe in the rebellion. Maybe too few had believed to begin with... Cowards," he muttered, a flash of something entering his eyes.
Mags knew in that moment that lad and his big ideas were still there, but something had cast them in chains.
"You can't keep on fighting for ten years," Vasco said, his tone final. "Ten years buried, living on for something you knew wouldn't happen. If at least we could have changed things, it might've been okay, but we couldn't have, because we needed more people, and more people never came. So it was ten years of nuts and pills for breakfast, nuts and pills for lunch and nuts and pills for dinner, ten years without seeing the sky, feeling the sun's warmth, or tasting salt. Ten years of lying to the kids we raised, pretending there was a life to be had."
Mags swallowed. Ten years. She'd known, but it hadn't sunk in. She was now amazed that Citadel people had not been insane.
"At least here, there's true life," Vasco said with a small smile. "It's less than we could have, but it's more than I did. You learn to appreciate it. Better have a bit than have nothing but dreams."
"You had each other," Mags weakly said.
"At first," Vasco agreed, "but after time it became a lie. We'd grown bitter, disgusted at how weak we all were, but no one would say it, afraid to be kicked out, like Atli, like the others, who got claimed by madness and became animals. It was the only thing that kept us going, that illusion of strength," Vasco said, bitterness creasing the deep lines on his face. "Some found love and friends, some vanished for weeks in the bunker, playing hide and seek in an attempt to find some awe in our boring lives. We got sick of each other, started hating just because at least that was something powerful and real. People aren't meant to be caged so long. People aren't meant not to see the sun and hear the birds."
"How many were caught and how many were freed?" Mags pushed, her fists clenched painfully on her lap. A part of her was desperate to know the fire that had animated the bunker still survived somewhere. This was a Citadel man, not bunker, maybe others hadn't given up yet.
Where was Sylvan? Where were Chickaree, Teal, Fix, Skylar? Surely some were alive, unbroken.
"Don't know," Vasco admitted, unease and concern flitting over his face, "I was alone all the time. I've met six here, a family from the Bunker and a Scavenger couple. Okay folk, better than I'd have thought," he said with a shrug. His expression darkened. "Not many Citadel folk left before the Cestoda came in force anyway… The others will all tell you the same thing. Wasn't pleasant in the Capitol, but it wasn't torture."
Mags nodded, not knowing what to say. What could she say when confronted to the unraveling of the last relics of what had once been a magnificent bastion of resistance?
The man shrugged after a pause. "We're harmless. I guess we were harmless before, we just hated the idea too much to see it. I just want a life. I'll take what I can." He gave her a toothy smile. "I got a tan, fancy that." His smile turned wistful as he lifted his arm towards the sea. "Awe, Girl. I'd forgotten."
Mags blinked tears back. "I wish you the best of luck, be... be happy," she said, abruptly standing up. The room was too cramped, she had to get out.
"You too, don't forget about life chasing dreams."
Mags forced a small smile. "Thanks for your time," she whispered.
She gently shut the door behind her, her feet dragging her back to where she should have gone in the first place.
She started as she almost collided into a peacekeeper as she turned the corner. Mags snapped her head upwards and exhaled in relief.
Marquise was waiting impatiently against the wall, a small tight smile on her tanned face.
"I don't make the same mistake twice, Miss Mags," the young peacekeeper said, "I told Ajax to lay off your mother when she wanted to go home after Esperanza's kidnapping, leaving you all at the mercy of that Garron hag. I just decided to be discreet about it this time."
Mags' lips broke into a sad smile. Marquise was discreet about more things than Mags had any right to ask "I'll miss you when you leave."
"Leave?" Marquise scoffed. "I'll ask for three more years here. I have no intention of ending up stranded in District Ten counting chickens."
"They'll grant it, just like that?"
Marquise laughed. "It's not like people fight over Creneis Town. I can't even smell fish anymore, it's a very bad sign." She sobered slightly. "As long as my track record is clean, I can demand an extension. Only thirty out of fifty rotate every three years, even if it's usually the younger ones."
Mags was almost surprised at how relieved and happy she was to hear Marquise would stay for another five years. She was growing really fond of the woman.
"How'd you end up guarding me anyway?" She asked warmly. "You'd been in Four just a couple of months back then."
Marquise lifted her eyes skywards, as if to say 'who else could have been worth it?'. The blonde smirked, her eyes back on Mags. "Lieutenant Falx had to pick five and the talent pool isn't large. Creneis is a dead end for advancement and it will impress no one to say you were assigned there. No one over thirty is worth a dime: Legend's as good as you get among the veterans," she said, a sardonic smile gracing her ruby lips. "He's observant and his mind is lightning in a crisis, but he hates responsibilities and he's as lazy as a lizard in winter. He's lucky he's rather smart, or he'd be the one counting chickens in Ten."
A superior expression flitted over Marquise's face. "Lieutenant Falx felt I brought some flexibility and a different perspective on things in the team." Her voice softened as she gazed into the distance. "Memory is a very important thing in District One -"
Mags nodded wistfully, remembering how she had been made to recite the story behind every tapestry they owned and sewed from the time she had learned to talk.
" - and we're taught to pay attention to people, to anticipate their wishes and actions. We're a merchant district who sells things people don't need. Our greatest skill is convincing people the superfluous is necessary." Marquise shook her head, distaste curling her lips. "Indra and Al are disciplined, remarkable with weapons, solid and loyal, but they can't take an initiative to save their lives and they don't understand people. No one teaches them to think in District Two," Marquise said, looking depressed. "They were made to be machines, boring copies of each other. I've been trying to turn Al into a real human being."
Mags laughed, feeling sorry for the poor man. "He'd be so flattered to hear you speak of him like that."
"I've told him worse. Indra too, and that cow tried to punch me." Marquise snickered. "She failed. I hate weapons, but I had too big a crush on our self-defense instructor to pass with less than a black belt. Four miserable years of sweating on a mat like a pig, but he was a god." Marquise's eyes shimmered with nostalgia. "Shiraz would always demonstrate with the best students. I fainted the first time he picked me."
Mags laughed again, incredulous. "How old were you, Marquise?"
"Your age," the young woman said with a broad grin. "A god I tell you."
The moonlit Creneis was just as Mags had left it, minus the snow.
"Let's go home."
Mags nodded, but for once, instead of the magnificent mansion on the cliff, she thought of the small house with peeling walls, wobbly wooden furniture and creaking floors she had grown up in.
She missed Kyle with a fierceness that grew more with every step she took closer to her house and she wanted to run up to Glynn's house to shake Esperanza awake.
But first, there was something she had to do.
Marquise and Alaric left them at their doorstep, probably off to finish their all too short night. Mags almost felt guilty to have asked for a hovercraft to take them from the riverside village, justly named Riverton, to Creneis in the middle of the night, but she couldn't bear it any longer.
Mags hands were trembling as she unwrapped the storage disks which held Constantine and Fife's last moments.
"There are microphones in the hovercraft," Mags muttered. "None of us knew."
"You're alive," her mother said with a strained smile, putting her hand on Mags' chilled arms. "It won't be anything dangerous."
"It will be personal," Mags whispered, plugging the records into her audio system.
"Get us out of here faster."
When Fife's voice, unmistakable despite the loud background noise, filled the room, Mags stood up, as if held by an invisible hand. A sob caught in her dry throat and her knees buckled.
She was caught by her mother, who cradled her in her arms, pulling her back safely in the sofa. Mags barely acknowledged it, transported to another time and place.
A place of blood and chaos.
"Nerves, woman. I need you to take them down."
She had forgotten how cool and collected Constantine managed to sound in the heat of battle. She realized she was shaking harder than before, tears running down her cheeks.
"With my gun? I don't think…" A pause. "Oh, right. How does it work?"
"You aim with the monitor, lock on and shoot," Constantine said tersely.
The shots were loud and triumphant. Mags wiped her eyes, remembering how the hostile hovercrafts had crashed to the ground, allowing the cornered rebels to flee deep in the dark mountains.
She wanted them back. This should not have only been possible at the cost of their lives.
She missed them so much.
"What about your family," Fife said, her voice trembling so hard that Mags could perfectly picture her terrified face, "how can you not fight to get back to them?"
The howling wind covered the next words. Mags cursed, turning on the volume but knowing it was useless. Why hadn't they locked those accursed doors!
Constantine's dry chuckle briefly covered the background noise. Thankfully his voice was not soft when he spoke again.
"My mother conceived me at forty-six, my father was almost sixty. They had been married for over twenty years. It is plain that I was a social necessity, one far down on their list of priorities. Once I was there, they groomed me. They were fair and paid close attention to my education in all things. They were great teachers but not parents, not in the sense you intend it."
Mags felt tears rise in her eyes at the knowledge Constantine's whole family had heard those terrible words. His father had died so soon after… She felt even more for her late ally, who had been more lost than they had ever suspected.
"I have always been a very rewarding investment. Coraline has showed me more love than they ever did, and she's a paid servant. I owe my parents, I appreciate and respect them, but I do not see the appeal of the life I was conceived to lead. No matter how wealthy and well connected, I would be powerless, forced to deal with idiots for shallow goals. Teal will live and Mags will cleanse Panem of the plague scouring it."
Mags blanched. The remote control slipping through her grasp. Valerian may have gotten a copy of the records without Achlys knowing but there was no way Achlys hadn't seen the tape.
Mags will cleanse Panem of the plague scouring it.
How was she still alive?
"Keep listening," Angelites whispered, tightening her hold on her shivering daughter, "it's not over."
The wind cackled over the microphones, assaulting Mags' ears like sharp claws on metal. Venomous dread snaked its way up her body, suffocating her, until Fife's voice rose over the din.
"You volunteered because you wanted to be free of the life you would have otherwise had in One, Constantine? You felt that jailed?"
Fife's anger was unmistakable. Mags felt her own blood boil at the injustice of it, but without Constantine, she would not have won. She bit back a scream of rage and closed her eyes.
Were she to reach out, she would almost touch him. Constantine was so easy to picture, handsome and so sure of himself, etched in her memory for life.
Fife's scream pierced through her like a knife. "Constantine steer away!"
Mags wanted to curl up and hide her ears. She'd seen them die thrice already, she didn't want to hear it. Why had she wanted to hear it?
The wind covered so much and yet not enough. There was movement in the hovercraft.
"They're fighting," Mags whispered, now wishing Valerian had also gotten his hands on the video and yet desperately grateful that he hadn't. They're fighting and it was her fault.
The sounds of struggle ceased. Mags held her breath. "You foolish girl," Constantine snarled, "you are too weak to overpower me. Do try to keep a semblance of dignity."
"I won't die for some noble bullshit of yours," Fife snapped, "take us away, Constantine! We can make it!"
Please, Mags begged, knowing it was futile.
"Grow up, Fife. Those rules even you cannot break! You're just a cunning kid from Nine's streets. You know nothing of true power."
Wind and static were the only thing left, filling the room for a whole minute that dragged into eternity until a sickening crash followed by an explosion cause left nothing but silence.
"Odd that the girl at least didn't scream," Angelites muttered, her eyes wet.
Mags was staring at the stereo in horror. What had possessed her to wish to see that? Would she ever be grateful? Wounds blessedly eroded by time shredded open in the quest of... of what? Partial knowledge? More reason for pain? And worse…
Her own life was in danger.
Her mother took a shaky breath. "She didn't believe him. She didn't believe him," she repeated. "It's the only explanation," she said, her tone even. "Achlys believes that Constantine had failed to realize that you'd changed."
"How could she think that?" Mags exclaimed, her own voice brittle, "I didn't kill Cresyl, big deal. I didn't say anything rebellious during the last day, but neither did I truly defend the Capitol. I did say Wickers' plan was a diversion, but it was so obvious."
"You killed him, Mags. You killed a symbol of the resistance. It's the first man you killed, and you didn't hesitate."
"I threw grenades –"
"At anonymous hijacked people and cannibals who Achlys probably despises so much she has no reason to think you cared any more than she did," the raven-haired woman said, clutching Mags' hands. "Every citizen in Panem saw you stare at Fife's gun, unable to take it to kill your allies, and yet you killed the leader of the underground rebellion with a look of hate that would have melted steel, saying you'd heard enough lies for a lifetime. Achlys doesn't think she's the liar."
"Wickers is a martyr," Mags protested. "Who cares what I said when I shot him. He died saving the rebels who were fleeing."
Impatience clouded Angelites' features. "Stop thinking like a rebel."
Mags glowered at her mother. The woman glowered back with a small smile.
"Start thinking like the President of Panem who did everything in her power to force those rebels out of hiding," Angelites said, "Using the Hunger Games was a desperate move, Mags. It worked, but it was more than that. Rebels are dismissed, belittled and forgotten in official media. Wickers was not, he was mentioned again and again, rolled in the mud and stepped on, hard, for months. This was obsession. This was revenge. Achlys has emotions too."
"If she thinks, 'why would a rebel shoot Wickers' she'll see the truth in a blink," Mags said. Achlys was intelligent, pretending otherwise was ridiculous.
"She won't think it if she's convinced of something else. Mags," her mother said with a sigh. "You are but one of the many many things the President has to think about, do not think she spends hours fretting over your loyalties. There are so many acts of isolated anger in Panem every day that you do not fit the image she has of rebels. You're innocent until proven guilty and right now, she's not looking beyond the surface for proof."
"She could be thinking to milk me for all my worth and then kill me once I become dangerous," Mags said, bringing her knees to her chin, "for now I have done nothing that threatens the Capitol."
"I don't think Achlys believes someone likable can be a rebel. She despises our kind too much. She has been quite accommodating with you, which makes me think she likes you. As long as you give her no reason to suspect, you are in little danger from her."
Mags snorted weakly. "She said she knew many remarkable people that dated stupidly at my age. And that Kyle was okay with her as long as he doesn't cause trouble. She really didn't seem to care and she knew."
Angelites spread her arms out, as if this proved her point.
Mags bit her lips, uneasy. It for so rare for her mother not to worry that only that made the victor inclined to believe her, and yet…
"You're saying I'm worrying because my ego is too big, Mama?"
A small chuckle escaped the dark-haired woman's lips. "Everyone thinks they're the center of the universe…"
"Or it's just I really haven't done anything against the Capitol."
"You have," her mother replied immediately, her eyes serious. "You're laying the groundwork. I remember how the first rebellion happened, how the signs were so obvious in hindsight. Mags, it'll be years, but you're slowly changing mentalities. Act instead of endure, build instead of destroy. You're reminding people that the cities belong to them and not the Capitol, and you're reminding each town they're part of a bigger whole. You're giving them ambition, Mags. It's the first step."
Mags felt a shiver run up her spine, not so reassured. "And when Achlys notices this ambition?"
"We'll act accordingly. Plan ahead," her mother said, caressing her daughter's hair, "but don't lose your sleep over imaginary disasters."
"What about Valerian? Constantine's mother was a Colonel, that's almost as high as you can get."
"A mother can't be loyal to the nation that murdered her son, peacekeeper or not. Valerian went out of his way to give you those records." Angelites paused. "Did Lucian tell Achlys you wanted him as a guard?"
"I don't think so," Mags said, relaxing ever so slightly. "He made a big show of being as independent as possible. Achlys saw the transmissions, not the rest, unless she asked..."
"Then why would Valerian plot your demise this way knowing no sane person would have expected you to demand him as part of your escort? If Achlys wanted you to have those records, she'd not have taken the risk of giving them to a man who cared for Constantine. Valerian had the records because he needed to know why. He gave them to you because he's got enough empathy to know you did too."
Mags wasn't convinced but she was slowly feeling better, much better. It made sense. There was a thin line between careful and paranoid, and she had almost crossed it.
She smiled wanly, happy her memories of District One had not been sullied with a fear of betrayal.
Her eyes felt back on the audio system. "Can you please destroy it, Mama?" She said, biting her lips not to cry. She was conscious that those records, and the single framed picture near her bed, were the only tangible things she still had of Fife and Constantine but she was tired of weeping.
She had to let go.
AN:
Achlys' motives during the 9th Games are in the 3rd outtake for people who haven't seen it.
Thank you ETNRL4L for helping me with all the bits in Spanish and thank you all for reading and reviewing.
Please review.