In the Capitol…6 months before the reapings
"You did what?" Nausicaa and Aleida stand face to face in the bathroom within Aleida's room. With only a few months until the Games, President Pitheart has called all the surviving Victors to the Capitol for…some reason. Nausicaa isn't sure, and Nausicaa doesn't care. What she does care about is the fact that her stupid best friend is hiding a fugitive.
"I just saw him outside Victor Village, and, I don't know. I wasn't sober!" Aleida says, mindful of his voice. The bathroom is one of the few places they know a camera won't be found. He made sure of it.
"Oh, my god." Nausicaa puts her palms on her forehead, trying to collect her thoughts.
"He's not dangerous," Aleida says in his futile attempt to comfort her.
"No, you idiot, if the President found out…" she stops herself there. The President won't find out. He cannot.
"And that's why I need your help. To keep anyone else from finding out," Aleida explains. He takes Nausicaa's arms and lowers them. "We will keep him from finding out."
A million thoughts spin through Nausicaa's head. Flashbacks from the years of pain they went through after the attempted rebellion.
Pain. Pain from the beatings. From the lack of food. From sleeping on the cold floor. Muscle aches, headaches, stomach aches, Nausicaa had it all.
Despite all the time that's passed between then and now, Nausicaa still feels like she's under the spotlight. That every single move will be critiqued, or questioned by the Capitol.
A million thoughts fly by, but only one sticks.
"I need a drink." The friends leave the bathroom and Aleida pours them two shots of whiskey. Then he pours another. And another.
"You don't think...him calling us here has…anything to do…" Nausicaa's words slur as she gestures for him to pour another shot.
"No. I don't know why we're here," Aleida says as he pours. He places his empty glass down on the cart but doesn't pour one for himself.
"Mmm." Nausicaa pours the shot back and puts her glass down.
Aleida decides he can't talk about what he's done. He can't think about the consequences his actions might have. He's never before, why should he start now?
"You know who you're mentoring?" He asks the District Four girl in a futile attempt to shift the conversation.
"Yeah. They're good. They're friends, too," she says with a sigh.
"That's…a shame for them," Aleida says.
"They signed up for it. Anyway, Callista will be uh, leading this. I don't know how…helpful I'll be," Nausicaa says quietly.
Callista Beaufort, victor of the 101st Hunger Games. Aleida doesn't remember her Games all that much, he wasn't mentoring that year. He knows she's one of the few Careers that regrets her actions. But unlike his best friend, Callista has hope for future generations.
"Imagine if we mentored together," Aleida smirks.
"Yeah. We'd never bring anyone home." She takes a seat on the edge of the bed.
Aleida knows a thing or two about that. In the twenty-two years he's been a mentor, he's brought exactly one Victor home. Loss has normalized for him, and he hates it. He hates seeing the scared, crying faces on the train. The fear in their eyes as they go out on the chariots, or during their interviews. The blood loss in their skin as they stand on the podium, poised to run. The countdown reminds them of the precious seconds they have left to live.
They remind him of his own lost ally. Twenty-two years later, his face is as fresh as ever in his mind. He still has his cane, tucked away for safety.
Aleida pours another shot to block out any additional memories.
"To us. And our stupid decisions." He raises his glass to Nausicaa, who is no longer paying attention to him.
Aleida has made enough stupid decisions in a lifetime. He's dealt with the consequences. He's regretted them. He hopes that helping a wanted fugitive won't be added to that list.
But he knows better by now.
President Pitheart stands on his balcony, looking down upon his mentor cadre. Many look back with an / expression that could kill. Orion isn't oblivious. He knows the actions he's taken against many of these mentors were…disagreeable. But Orion doesn't regret a single action. He gained no pleasure from it, rather it was a necessity. Under Orion Pitheart's watchful eye, Panem will not collapse.
"Thank you all for joining me here tonight. As we enter the final preparations for our 110th Hunger Games, I wanted to bring us all together for a moment of appreciation. Appreciation for everything we do, and sacrifice, for the betterment of Panem." Orion smiles. The faces of those who look back at him don't quite reciprocate. They still aren't aware of the real reason he brought them here today.
"As you know, none of us have had a particularly easy year. I commend you all for your strength, bravery, and dedication to keeping Panem strong." he ignores the eye rolls and glances of disgust.
"It's not been an easy journey, and we still have a long road ahead of us. It's no secret that the cause of all the prior chaos and turmoil, Miss Kate Wakai of District Four and Miss Tatiana Emery of District Two, is still at large. And we have reasons to believe they are supported by Mr. Conrad Martell of District Six." Their names leave a wretched taste in Orion's mouth. What he would give to snuff them both out.
"Panem cannot rest without their apprehension. So, I want to propose an offer. Any mentor, tribute, or related party who brings forward any information that will lead to the capture of either fugitive will receive a reward unprecedented in Panem history. The rewarded party, along with all current and future immediate family, will be granted immunity from being reaped into the Hunger Games," Orion's words create a chamber of silence around the mentors as they take in what he's promising: safety for their children, grandchildren, and future generations.
"Thank you for your time. I hope we can all find benefit in this…dreadful situation." With that, Orion excuses himself from the podium, with high hopes that something may finally bring an end to the headache that's been consuming him for the last fifteen years.
Down below, some mentors stand in shock at the announcement. Some immediately group up with their closest allies, and the whispers begin.
Soraya Laurent is a part of the latter. She makes her way to Callista Beaufort, one of the first friends she made after earning her victory.
"Wow," Soraya says to her friend.
"Yeah. Wow," Callista replies. "I didn't think they would still be alive."
"Maybe they aren't," Soraya whispers.
"Careful," Callista whispers back. She can tell everyone is on edge, and she doesn't want to add fuel to the flames Orion Pitheart just ignited.
"Still. That's a pretty price," Soraya says. "Not that our districts care to take it." Callista and Soraya know better than most that their districts, along with District Two, would and do kill to have the honor of fighting in the Hunger Games. Callista used to be one of those fools.
Her cheek still wears the scar her district partner gave her during their final fight. When she rubs her hands together, she can still feel the damage caused by his sword. Although the Capitol repaired her as best they could, the scar will never fade, and the nerves in her hands will never work right.
That's what she gets for believing the lies she was fed. The lies her parents still try to feed her. As past victors themselves, they find her lack of Capitol appreciation frustrating, if not completely disrespectful. They of all people should understand the scars, the nightmares, and the knowledge that lives were lost due to her actions.
She counts her blessings that her little sister saw past those lies. Theia Beaufort never volunteered for the Games and found a nice life for herself by working as a fisherman. Callista hardly sees her, but she doesn't mind. She's just happy that Theia found her own happiness.
Happiness isn't something that comes by Callista frequently. Recovering from the scars and trauma wasn't easy. Her best friend, Asher, tried his best to help her through them. But he didn't understand, just as her parents didn't understand. Losing him was hard, and anytime she sees him with his wife and two kids, she can't help but imagine herself by his side instead.
Instead, her home in Victor's Village echoes with silence.
"Well. It looks like a manhunt's ensuing," Soraya says, snapping Callista out of her thoughts. Callista looks around, and she can see the various mentors whispering, watching, like they're waiting for someone to say something. Like someone has any idea where any of the fugitives are.
Callista finds her mentor partner in the distance. As expected, she's locked in conversation with her friend. Callista has never been close with Nausicaa, despite their similar views on the Hunger Games, and the Careers. Having both been one and having both suffered plenty.
I wonder what she thinks about all this.
Aleida Edevane and Nausicaa Halcyone stand in shock.
"He's lying," Aleida breaks the silence with a raspy tone.
"Aleida…" Nausicaa's voice quivers. It's warm in the room, but her skin is icy cold. Her heart rate has doubled.
"He doesn't know," Aleida whispers in her ear. "If he knew, we would be back in that prison cell. Calm down."
Calm? How the hell can he tell me to be calm right now? Nausicaa keeps her thoughts inside and instead tries to focus on simply breathing.
In…out….in… She makes the mistake of closing her eyes. The darkness only invites the memories of that prison cell. Of the pain. Of the sound. Not of her own screams, but the screams of her friends. Her mentors. Of Aleida.
She opens her eyes and the world starts to spin. Aleida grabs her arm.
"We should go," He says, supporting her upright as they leave.
She doesn't fight back. Her mind is too busy focusing on the implications of the President's words. Not only are their lives at risk, but every single person around them would turn them in without hesitation for a reward that sweet.
They can't turn him in. They can't let him go. So what the hell are they to do?
Darrah is frozen in shock when she notices the first few Victors start to shuffle out of the room. She hasn't moved since Pitheart's announcement, and she's not sure she'll ever find the strength to.
Her mind locks back on the letter she received just before she came here. The warning from Conrad. Is this what he was warning her about?
Darrah doubts it. He wouldn't have known this was coming.
How are you so sure of that, Darrah? She reminds herself. She hasn't seen him in years, not since the 95th Hunger Games. She doesn't know him any better than she did back then.
She remembers what he wrote. 'We'll be watching you carefully.' Is this what he meant? Watching to see how she reacts to this…whatever it was. A bribe, a reward, a trade, Darrah doesn't know.
I can't write to him now. Even if she knew where they were hiding, she wouldn't dare try to bring any of it to the President's attention. Then she would have to admit her chain of communication, and everyone who has helped her would be put in danger. It's unlikely the President would be happy to hear how long secret communication had been going on. No, Darrah would not be turning in Conrad or Tatiana. Not for any reward.
But she knows there are a lot of people who would. Many in this room alone would do it for a lesser prize, or no prize. Those who remember a time before the 95th Games, when Victors were treated with some semblance of respect by the President and his Gamemakers. Who would do whatever it takes to return to those better days. Those who are against the rebels and their cause, even when it's been mostly diminished.
So Darrah decides, right then and there, she will do whatever it takes to keep that from happening. She will do whatever she can to protect them.
But first, she has to find them.
Happy interlude! A short one but definitely an impactful one. Godspeed, Conrad and Tati.
Next set of intros in a week! See ya then!
~Moose