SONG: The Greatest by Cat Power (this song just makes me think of Agata)

DISTRICT ONE

Agata's head split open, but her scream didn't stop. Iris stumbled backwards, as quickly as she could… blood poured from the wound in her stomach quicker than she could stop it. Minerva and Malachite looked down at her, grinning… in one hand, Malachite held a handful of golden curls, still attached to the grisly remains of Agata's scalp.

Iris screamed, and her voice turned into Agata's, and Agata's pain turned into hers, and soon Iris didn't know where Agata's pain ended and hers began.

There were tears on her face when she awoke.

/

Iris stepped onto the stage. District One had been the one she was most terrified about. Possibly even more than she had been for Nine and Ten. She had tried telling herself that it was the last one, that after this she could continue to forget about her Games as she preferred… but there was still the Capitol.

On Agata's platform stood her parents. The mother she had spoken so fondly of looked like an older clone of Agata, and Iris found that she couldn't bear to look at her. Seeing Agata's mother was a reminder of how Agata might have looked if she had been allowed to grow older. The thought of it made Iris feel like crying.

Her voice trembled when she started to talk. "Your tributes, Zircon and A-Agata, were brave and noble. Zircon, was strong, and gave his life in an honourable sacrifice to his District and the greater good of Panem. You should be proud of him. And Agata-" Tears had begun to form in her eyes, and Iris furiously blinked them away. She wouldn't cry on national television, she wouldn't. She took a deep, steadying breath. If it were Agata standing here, for her… she would have been brave. She would have held it together. "Agata saved my life, more than once. She didn't have to. She could have won, if it weren't for me. But she chose to spend her last moments selflessly. She was strong, and clever, and I have never met someone as brave as she was. She did her district proud."

Iris stepped away from the microphone, glad that she had managed to hold it together. She was glad that she had decided to write the speeches for all three of her allies. It had been hard, and it had taken hours for her to find the right words - but Iris knew she would have regretted it if their speeches were as impersonal as the rest. She smiled politely at the little, golden-haired girl who presented her with a bouquet of irises and a curtsey. She was getting very sick of the irises - she never wanted to see or smell them again.

The stiff smile fell from her face the second she stepped back into the Justice Building. Pomponia embraced her. "You did so well, my dear. It can't have been easy."

"It wasn't," Iris whispered.

/

She had never really thought much about District One. Before the Games, she had considered it to be the Capitol's spoiled, pompous lapdog. She had pictured sparkly gemstones and not much else. After the Games, she tried not to think about it, or Agata, at all.

But the tour proved to her that there was far more to District One than she had assumed. For one thing, the streets were quite literally sparkling. Both in cleanliness and aesthetic. Having grown up in Six, Iris was used to seeing trash and pollution everywhere - but District One seemed to be the polar opposite. It was a beautiful district, with clean houses and architecture, plenty of well-designed shops, and there seemed to be at least one park on every street.

The tour showed them several gemstone mines and high-end jewellery workshops, as well as to several vineyards. But the thing that surprised Iris the most was the entertainers. She hadn't thought about it before, but it made sense that One would train its citizens in the arts for the sake of the Capitol. The tour went to some sort of function centre, and in every room was a different kind of entertainment. An orchestra. A league of ballerinas. A mini-production of a play. There was even a small circus outside, with strange animals, a juggler, and two acrobats.

Iris was flabbergasted by it all. She had obviously underestimated the exports of District One. Its proximity to the Capitol obviously made it a popular tourist spot for Capitolites, even more so than District Two had been. It seemed like every third person she spoke to was from the Capitol.

The sheer number of people at the banquet made Iris' head spin. There had been at least two hundred in District Two, but here there was at least double that amount - and she didn't even have Lyme there to keep her company. Oh, Lyme. Iris missed her. She could hardly believe that what had happened between them wasn't just a dream.

At the banquet, Iris met Agata and Zircon's mentors. Onyx Sevina had been Agata's. Glory Dahl, who had intimidated her in the elevator, had been Zircon's. Iris half-expected them to hate her, but they seemed indifferent at best to her being there. Onyx was friendlier than Glory, but he seemed to look down his nose at her. "You did well," he said.

"At what?" Iris asked. She hadn't realised he was speaking to her, at first - he seemed to stare straight through her.

Onyx smiled. "Your victory, of course. Agata disappointed me greatly."

Something hot and angry rose in Iris' chest, but she forced it back down again. "She let you down?"

"I thought we had a real chance at victory. It's been an awful decade for my district, victory-wise. And Agata very nearly won. But nearly isn't good enough. She had to let her emotions get in the way."

"That's not what happened," Iris said, trying to stay calm. She had almost liked Onyx - he'd seemed more level-headed than some of the Career Victors she'd met - but of course he had to ruin it by talking. "She was -"

Glory cut her off. "She pissed it all away, you mean, Onyx? For a Six, no less." He sneered at Iris and raised his fork to his mouth.

"Watch your fucking mouth, Glory," Haylee snarled.

"Oh, don't you start, Haylee. You've got no place at this table. At least your girl earned her spot."

Iris breathed in deeply, trying to keep a level head. Once upon a time, she would have started swinging before she stopped to think. But that was how she had been before. She wanted to be better, now. "Agata was brave. She saved me when she didn't have to."

Glory laughed. "Agata wasn't brave. She was a cowardly little weasel who realised she wasn't worth jack-shit without her pretty face."

"Now, Glory-" Onyx started.

"Shut the fuck up. Fuck you both! She was better than you. She was good," Iris spat. She turned to Glory. "You're a washed-up old idiot clinging to your former fame." She stood up, pushing her chair out with a screech. "Neither of you deserved to even look at her."

She stomped from the room, not caring if she wasn't allowed to. She'd played nice her whole victory tour. Now it was Haylee's turn to pick up the pieces. Snatching a bottle of white wine from the refreshments cart in the hallway, Iris found a quiet spot in the gardens outside, under a tree.

It never took Pomponia long to find her. Iris heard her before she saw her. The click of her heels along the immaculate path. Pomponia looked down at her, hands on her hips.

Iris rolled her eyes. "Didn't take you long."

Pomponia smiled down at her. "It is a beautiful district, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Iris admitted. "Pity the people in it are such assholes."

"Now, you know that isn't true. Agata was not an asshole, was she?"

Iris gaped at her. She'd never heard Pomponia swear before. "You said asshole."

"I did," Pomponia agreed. "There is no point judging a whole tree by a few of its leaves."

"You're right." Iris looked up at her. "Come on, pull up a patch of grass." Iris had expected Pomponia to refuse - but to her surprise, Pomponia did not. She slipped out of her heels, and sat delicately next to Iris on the grass. "I thought you'd be too scared of grass stains."

"There are more important things to worry about," Pomponia said. She held out a hand to the wine bottle, and Iris handed it to her. Pomponia looked down at it, and gave Iris a small smile, before taking a sip. "Say what you will about District One, their wine is the best."

"Have Glory and Onyx always been assholes?" Iris asked.

Pomponia handled the bottle back to her. "I hardly know them well enough to say. I do know that there is immense pressure for them to produce another Victor, but that does not excuse their behaviour."

Iris took a large gulp. Her head was starting to fog up - just the way she liked it. She sighed. "You're really smart, Pomponia."

Pomponia smiled at her. "As are you, my dear."

Iris could feel her eyes getting misty. She wasn't sure when it had happened, exactly - but she had started looking at Pomponia as a surrogate mother. When had her praise started to mean so much to Iris? Iris leaned her head onto Pomponia's shoulder, and Pomponia wrapped an arm around Iris' shoulders. "I'm not smart. If I was, I would've let Scorah kill me."

"Don't say that."

"Why? It's true. If I could only go back -"

"-then your brother would be all alone. There is no going back, and that is for the better."

"Yeah. You're right."

Pomponia pressed a kiss to the side of Iris' head, and stood back up, pulling her heels back on. "You are missed, inside. Come back in?" She offered Iris her gloved hand.

"Okay," Iris said, taking Pomponia's hand. She left the wine sitting under a tree.

/

She managed to sit through the rest of the banquet - now at the opposite end of the table from Glory and Onyx - but the party was another story. Without Lyme's hand in hers, Iris didn't feel at all allured by the thumping music and the flickering lights. It was overwhelming, and even drunk she couldn't handle it. There was a rock in her chest, growing, and it pressed into her lungs, making it hard to breathe. She wanted Pomponia - but she was nowhere in sight.

She found Haylee sitting at the bar. She wasn't Pomponia, but she would have to do. "What are you drinking?"

Haylee looked down at her glass. "Dunno."

"Can I have some?"

Haylee wordlessly passed Iris the glass, and gestured for the bartender to pour her another. "Victory tours suck ass, don't they." Iris didn't respond, but apparently her silence was the only answer Haylee needed. She smirked, and threw back the full glass she'd just been poured. "Finish your drink, and come with me for a smoke."

Iris did as she was told. Haylee led her by the elbow outside and handed her a cigarette, lighting it on the first try. She did the same for herself, and puffed out a perfect circle, leaning against the wall. Iris watched as Haylee's slate-grey eyes scanned the garden. She wondered what the older woman was thinking about.

Haylee elbowed her, and jerked her head towards a large fountain. "Let's sit there."

Iris wasn't sure what the reason for their moving was, but she didn't care to argue. "Okay."

They walked to the fountain. The bubbling sound of the water was pleasant compared to the pounding music coming from the Justice Building. Haylee sat on the side of the fountain, and Iris sat next to her. Haylee flicked ash off the end of her cigarette. "Should be safe to talk here." Iris didn't know what she was talking about, and didn't feel like asking. Knowing Haylee, it would be some paranoid bullshit. "So. You and Lyme, huh?"

Iris choked on a mouthful of smoke. "What makes you think that?" she spluttered.

Haylee rolled her eyes. "Please. It's so obvious. You haven't shut up about her all tour. And then your goo-goo eyes over the table. And I saw you dancing together. Add all that with your reaction just now… it's not too hard to work out."

Haylee was smarter than everyone gave her credit for. Iris always forgot about that. "Okay. Yes. But it was just a one-off thing."

"Good. The Capitol can't find out, you know."

Iris frowned. "Why?"

"Are you stupid?" Haylee puffed smoke straight into Iris' face, and Iris scowled at her. "It'll be something else for them to use against you."

"Haven't they got enough?"

"There will always be something else. You have to be more careful now, than you've ever been before."

Iris glowered at her. "I love how you're giving me advice all of a sudden. Could have used some of that before the Games."

Haylee rolled her eyes. "Get over it, will you? I did you a favour by not helping you. Of course, you had to go and win, so it didn't matter in the end."

"You're probably right. I wish I'd let Scorah win. I was stupid not to."

"You haven't seen anything yet. You think it's bad now, just wait til' you get to the Capitol."

"I don't want to think about it," Iris said. She was terrified for what the rest of the tour would bring. She had never felt so powerless as she did now. Knowing she was to be sold, that she couldn't do anything about it or the people she loved would suffer… it made her want to scream, to bleed, to throw herself off a cliff.

"Well, you'd better start. It's not going to go away even if you cover your ears and sing to yourself," Haylee said. "So woman up and get over yourself, because you're not the only one who's gone through this."

Iris laughed. "I would have hated you once, for saying that."

"Now you understand."

"Yeah."

Haylee nodded. She kicked a small stone into the distance. "You were talking to Calcula, at the party."

"Yeah?"

"She's annoying."

Iris rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, so's her daughter, you already said."

"You know Caligula?" Haylee asked. "Won the year after Calcula?"

Iris frowned. She wasn't sure what the relevance of the topic change was."I think so. District Two, right?"

"Yeah. Well, they were a thing, for a long time. Was all over the tabloids. Nobody shut up about it. They were the biggest celebrity couple to ever walk Panem."

"What happened?"

"Well," Haylee said, exhaling a large cloud of smoke. "It started interfering with sponsors. Clients didn't like that they weren't exclusive, and cut them off. Two and Three had a sponsor drought for a few years, and so Cal and Cal ended things."

"Is that why you don't hear about Victors getting together?"

"Usually," Haylee said. "The whole prostitution thing sucks. But they pull the strings. They're the richest of the rich, and you have to do what they say."

"I hate that. I don't want to."

"I know. But you have to. At least while your brother's in the reaping."

A cold shudder shot down Iris' spine. "I will."

Haylee sighed, and flicked the butt of her cigarette into the fountain. "Just be careful with Lyme, okay?"

Iris nodded. "I will," she repeated.

Haylee slapped her on the shoulder, before standing up and heading back inside. Iris sat on the edge of the fountain, watching the cigarette butt float, ash slowly leaching into the water. She and Haylee had just had the most-meaningful, least-explosive conversation they'd ever had. It was strange. She wasn't used to Haylee actually acting like a mentor. It was a welcome change, but she didn't expect it to last.

Iris stared into the night, pondering Haylee's words. She missed the freedom she'd had before the Games. Sure, she'd been at Boris' beck and call, but she still was. And now she was a slave to the Capitol as well. At least before, she'd only had to answer to Boris, and what was Boris, really? Nothing. Not compared to Snow.

CAPITOL

If Iris had thought the fanfare of Districts One and Two had been big, it was nothing compared to what waited for her at the Capitol. The train station was utterly flooded with people, and there were many Peacekeepers for crowd control. If this was the response for an unattractive, relatively un-interesting Victor such as herself, she couldn't even begin to imagine what it must be like for some of the others.

The attention made her head spin. From the moment she stepped out of the train, the bright flashes from paparazzi and the screams of the crowd made her head spin. She held tightly onto Pomponia's arm as they rushed into the hovercraft that would take them to the Training Centre. She remembered arriving at the station as a tribute - there had been a crowd, but nothing to this extent. Had she gloated to one of the cameras? She had a feeling that she did, but couldn't remember the specifics. Now, all Iris wanted was to hide. Avoid attention. Unfortunately, that was not going to be possible for a while.

/

"I don't want to wear a dress," Iris argued, as Ulysses tightened the ribbons around her waist.

"Nonsense," he replied. "Of course you do. Stop being difficult."

"I can't wait until you piss off," Iris spat at him. "When are you going to another district?"

"I have had offers from Districts Five and Eight," Ulysses said. "Both pathetic, but certainly a step up from you opioid-addicted mechanics."

He tied off the ribbon at the back, and shoved Iris towards a mirror. The floor-length purple gown was beautiful, but it didn't suit her. She wished Ulysses had stuck to the style he had embraced for the tribute interviews - the pantsuit she had worn then suited her far more than a dress ever would. Even on the Victory Tour, her attire had been far less… ostentatious. But there was nothing she could do about it. Ulysses called the shots on what she wore, whether she liked it or not - and in this case, Iris did not. But no amount of complaining to Pomponia when she arrived back in the Penthouse achieved anything. She was stuck with the dress. At least it wasn't short.

She stared out of the car window grumpily, trying not to fidget. The purple sequins were tickling her skin and she hated it. She picked at one of them irritably. Pomponia grabbed her hand. "Leave the dress alone."

"It's horrible."

"You still have to wear it."

"Don't I get a say in what that putrid little worm puts me in?"

Pomponia gave her a stern look, as she always did when Iris called Ulysses names. "If you are talking about Ulysses, no. This particular number was not his doing, anyway. It was requested by one of your sponsors that you wear this."

Iris blinked at her. "What does that mean?"

Her question was not answered by the time they pulled up at the presidential mansion. The crowd presence at the mansion gates was easily tripled from what it had been like at the train station, although thankfully their car was not the only one arriving and the Capitolites apparently didn't know which one she was in. The gates opened and the car deposited them in front of the mansion.

Thankfully, there were far less people inside the party than there were outside. Evidently, only the richest of the rich could afford to go to what was probably the most exclusive party in Panem. Besides a few prominent Gamemakers, Iris didn't recognise anyone - she was still, apparently, expected to know everyone who came up to her.

The 'banquet' was apparently more of a ridiculous open-buffet. Despite the no-doubt delicious options available to her, Iris was determined not to enjoy any of it, and instead picked at a plate of bread and cheese. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was rotten and mouldy, that she was sharing it with Jordie in their dilapidated apartment, their father passed out on the couch. She longed for those horrible years of poverty, sometimes, because at least then she wasn't exploited as she was now.

"Ah, Miss Iris Paquin!" A somewhat-familiar voice jolted Iris from her thoughts. She looked up from her bread and recognised that man Lyme had seemed to hate so much at the first party after her victory.

"Mr… Lucan?" she asked, staring at him. She cleared her throat. "I don't think I know your surname."

Lucan stared at her, as if it was impossible for Iris not to know everything about him. "I always forget how sheltered you district people are from the real world. I am Lucan Dupont, of course. But you, my dear, should call me Lucan." He took her hand and kissed it. "You look lovely tonight."

"Thanks," Iris said. She knew she was supposed to be charming, to hold conversation, but she didn't know how to do that. Not with Capitolites. And certainly not with this slimy Lucan. At least most of the people she had talked to so far were content to talk about themselves, and often did so unprompted. Hopefully she could get Lucan to yammer on about himself until he got bored and left him alone.

"Who are you wearing?" Lucan asked.

Iris looked down at her dress and frowned. Who was she wearing? What did that even mean? "Hopefully no-one," she said. "Unless this dress is made out of somebody's skin."

Lucan threw his head back and laughed. It wasn't an unpleasant laugh, for someone who gave her the creeps, and it meant he wasn't looking at her for a few seconds. "Oh, you silly thing. I was referring to the designer, of course."

"Well, I'm not sure. Ulysses just put me in it. You'll have to ask him." She jabbed her thumb towards Ulysses, who was standing by the desserts table, stuffing his face.

Lucan shook his head. "I would much rather spend time with you."

Iris shifted uncomfortably. "That's nice."

Lucan, apparently taking her uneasiness as shyness, smiled at her. "Let us dance."

Iris begrudgingly accepted, knowing she didn't have much choice. Dancing with Lucan was far different from dancing with Lyme. For one thing, he was about fifty years her senior, instead of two. For another, Iris didn't want to sleep with him. And yet his hands wandered over her body in a way that told Iris if it weren't for them being surrounded by other people, he would certainly have violated her by now. And there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

At the end of the dance, Lucan wiped sweat from his brow. "Thank you, darling. It has truly been an honour. I look forward to seeing you again soon." He winked at her, before sauntering away.

Iris went to the nearest bathroom and threw up.

/

The day after the victory banquet, Iris once again stood waiting outside President Snow's office. At least she wasn't in that horrible purple dress, but it didn't do much to help the level of unease she felt. What did he want from her? She hadn't broken any laws, to her knowledge.

The door opened. An attendant, dressed in red, gestured for her. "The President is ready to see you," he said.

Iris gulped, and stepped into the office.

"Miss Paquin," Snow said, smiling at her. "How lovely to see you again." He gestured for her to sit, and Iris did so. "I am not keen to meander, so I will get right to it. You are no doubt wondering why you are here."

"Yes, sir."

"I would like for you to tell me about your finances."

Iris tried not to let her confusion show. "My- my finances, sir?"

"Why yes, Miss Paquin. Your finances." Snow slid a piece of paper towards her. It had a series of numbers on it, and Iris wasn't sure what they represented. "This is your bank statement from the last six months. You have withdrawn the same amount of money, all in cash, on the same day every month. And despite the significance of the amount, it is not clear where this money has been going. There is no record of it after it has been withdrawn. I would like you to tell me where it has been going."

Iris' mouth was dry. She hadn't known that Snow would be keeping tabs on what she spent. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The Victor's Purse was Capitol money, after all. Of course they kept tabs on where it went. "Well, President Snow, it goes to my former employer. Boris Nowak." She didn't see any point in lying.

"I thought, Miss Paquin, that I told you what the consequences would be if you resumed the illegal activities you took part in before your victory."

Iris felt her stomach drop. "Well, yes. But I didn't know what I was doing was illegal. I didn't know I wasn't allowed to give Boris money."

"May I ask why you are giving him such a significant amount?"

Iris knew there was no point in denying the reason. If there was some way she could still save Jordie, lying certainly wouldn't be the solution. And so she told him the whole story. How Boris had kidnapped her and Jordie a few weeks after her return. How they had been beaten and forced to hurt each other. How Boris had told her that she owed him for the product she lost when the Peacekeepers found her out. How she had paid him off, every month, so that he wouldn't come after her or her family.

President Snow, for all his corrupt, evil ways, was a good listener. He did not interrupt. He waited until she had finished. She was surprised that he had allowed her to explain herself. She had thought him to be the type to act first, ask questions later, but apparently not. Apparently he liked to get the story straight before killing a person's family.

"I assume you are aware of the rule, that a Victor may not spend any of their allowance on one not related to them by blood."

Iris nodded miserably. She was trying to remain calm, but she had the horrible feeling that in trying to protect Jordie, she had gotten him killed. "Yes, sir."

"And you are aware that by giving money to this… Boris, you have broken that rule."

"Yes sir."

President Snow stared at her. "Such underground transactions are completely outside the law, Miss Paquin. Your money is to go nowhere the Capitol cannot track. I am confident that you understand why."

"Yes." Iris knew would be all too easy for a Victor to fix up the poverty in the district. But poverty was how Snow liked it. If people were starving, they wouldn't try to start another rebellion.

"However. I understand that you were put in a complex situation. And I do appreciate that you did not lie to me. I will take care of this, on the grounds that you will never use your money in such a way again."

"I won't, sir." Iris' heart leapt. Had Snow really… forgiven her? Would he really deal with Boris? However, he hadn't said that she wouldn't be punished. "President Snow. My brother-"

Snow shook his head. "You have, despite this slip up, proved to me that you are capable of following the rules. As such, your brother will come to no harm."

Iris felt like crying. "Thank you."

The president nodded at her. "You are not a threat to me, Miss Paquin. Nor is your brother. Boris Nowak, on the other hand, is." Snow smiled at her. "I am confident that you will not give me any trouble from now on, Miss Paquin."

"I won't," Iris said. And she meant it. She would, from now on, be the perfect Panemian. She would sleep with the people she was told to. She would follow the line. She would never break another law. If that was all it took to keep her brother safe, then Iris would do it. Snow might have let her off this time, but she knew that next time she wouldn't be so lucky. That meant there could never be a next time.

Snow dismissed her, and Iris left gratefully.

I am so glad the victory tour is over I definitely lost my mojo writing it. I always struggle writing Snow because the way he speaks in Canon is so specific to him… I always worry that I haven't done him justice but I hope I did okay!