Ebony Shire District Twelve Male

"Panem Today, Panem Tomorrow, Panem Forever"

That was his cue. Ebony raised his bow, and began playing the anthem. In general, he struggled to put any sort of emotion into the glurge that was Gem of Panem. But today it didn't matter. Nobody was looking at Ebony. Not when there was a murderer on stage.

Cato Gunnerson had destroyed the dreams of District Twelve twice within a few minutes. Even before the Parade, everyone knew that Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark were some of the best tributes Twelve had seen in decades. Katniss with her courage and bow, Peeta with his charm and hidden strength. Then there was their blazing entrance. The scores. The interviews. The confession. Twelve was going to bring someone home.

Cato took that away. Because how dare Twelve stand on their own. Ebony could still hear the contempt in his voice during his first interview, the fury once he was Victor. The two were both dead and shipped home in pine boxes, but it still wasn't enough. Not for Cato, not for Two, and not for the Capitol.

Right now, Cato seemed more subdued. A part of Ebony thought he'd start things again, mocking them for daring to hope. But his speech was the same one given each year, by quiet Victors who didn't care one way or another about Twelve. Even the people in the crowd looked more listless than anything. Sure, people had been angry right when they died, but in the months that followed, it just felt… expected. Like it couldn't have ended any other way.

Ebony's fingers moved by memory over the notes. It was funny. When the Capitol gave notice they wanted a local musician to add a touch of color to the Victory Tour, he'd been petrified. All his free time away from the mines went to practicing. His younger brother, Sky, complained about how little they saw him. But Ebony could hear the worry in his voice underneath The fear of what the Capitol would do if Ebony failed to measure up.

Now, Ebony was playing for the largest audience he'd ever had. President Snow himself was probably watching the Victory Tour right now. But none of it mattered. No one was listening to him. As long as he didn't make any obvious flubs, nobody would care. And maybe not even then.

Because today wasn't about District Twelve. It wasn't about Primrose Everdeen, standing alone offering flowers to her sister's killer. It wasn't about Ryen Mellark hanging his head, knowing he could have saved his brother but didn't. And it certainly wasn't about Ebony, who hadn't know either of them.

No, it was all about the murderer in front of them. And more than that, about the power of the Capitol. About how nothing any of them did would matter, because the Capitol and those they favored would always win. All they could do was play their songs and hope for mercy.

Ebony finished the song with a flourish, and walked off stage. He didn't think a single person noticed.

Now this was a real performance. Music pouring from his fiddle, fingers dancing over the strings. His high strings weave in with Jasper's bass and Myra's guitar. And Greyson's clear voice over it all, leading the chorus of the crowd.

And the crowd. The Hob was often full of people, but Edan had never seen it so packed. Mostly a sea of black, but he could see blonds dotting the crowd too. Seam and merchant together for one night. People dancing, singing, or just taking in the music. Even the ones trying to talk over the noise. Everyone there added to the experience. Made it something worth existing, banding them all together after a trying time.

As always, the Victory Tour had moved on quickly. No one from the Capitol or Two wanted to spend a second in Twelve more than they had to. Maybe once a decade they did a quick tour of the mines, but most of the time, they left before breakfast. This time they left before dinner..

Which meant it was time to party. And there was only one place in Twelve you could do that.

Long ago, before the Hob was a black market, it was a performance hall. Family legends said Ebony's great-great uuncle would perform with the same fiddle he owned now for huge crowds both here and across Panem. Ebony didnt know how much of that was true, he just knew that after a day of formality and holding emotion in, he needed to cut loose. They all did.

"Nothing you can take from me was evv-verrr-"Grayson drew the last notes out, and everyone joined in. Emory shouted along, one voice in the massive whole.

"Worth keeping…"

And then the release the last notes echoings. Then applause roared over them. Ebony just closed his eyes and drank it all in.

"Alright, if you can bear to let us get away, we're going to take a quick break. Greyson called out. The crowd seemed to agree, giving one more cheer before breaking up into groups talking.

Ebony wss fine with that. He loved playing, but right now he could really use a drink. And unlike in the mines when that happened, he could actually go and get one.

For the first few minutes, Ebony just enjoyed the feel of cool, clean water going down his parched throat. Once hta twas taken care of, he turned to watch the crowd. There was no music playing, but the sound of dozens of voices talking at once had its own rhythm that he enjoyed in its own right.

"Hey, stranger. Haven't seen you in a whole day."

That voice was closer. Familiar too. And unless he was mistaken, she was addressing him. Ebony felt a smile tugging at his lips as he turned to greet the owner of the voice. "Hey, Ginger."

Ginger Elmtree, a friend from his mining group, stood there grinning. "You taking requests?"

Ebony stretched his neck, trying to work out the stiffness as he considered the question. "Depends on the request. I'm not playing the Anthem again."

"I was thinking of The Hanging Tree."

He raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a bit dark for a party?"

She snorted. "I love The Hanging Tree. Besides, I thought it was 't that what the Games are, after all? A public execution? Hanging two of us each year for our family's crimes? Maybe that can be the new anthem"

Ebony felt his heart beating faster as she spoke. Maybe he was too afraid to say some things out loud, but hearing Ginger talk that way always brought a sense of danger. Of hitting something real, instead of what everyone pretended they didn't know.

But on the other hand…"I don't think the Capitol would like to hear me encourage people to flee the Reaping."

"You're no fun."

"I know. That's Grayson's job. It's why he's the singer."

"Hey, I was wondering about that. Why you don't sing up there?"

"That would leave Grayson with nothing to do on stage but dance."Ebony replied, flippantly. "And well…" Ebony nodded towards Greyson attempting to impress a Merchant girl with some juggling, only to drop one in her drink. "For everyone's safety, we try to avoid giving him the opportunity."

"I see." Ginger tilted her head. "That'd almost be impressive if he did it on purpose."

"I'm sure he's claiming that right now. But he sure can sing, so we keep him around." Ebony smiled. "Besides, you don't want to hear me sing."

"I already have."

Ebony's surprise must have shown on his face, since Ginger ducked her head and started uncharacteristically stammering. "Look, it's just- we live close by and if I'm walking home from Town on my day off and hear you practicing the anthem for your big day- it just got me wondering."

"Oh, you heard me sing the anthem? My apologies, but I think that'd answer your question."

She snorted. "No one sounds good singing the anthem. Seriously, is there a reason Grayson can't take a few songs off and let the rest of you take the spotlight for once?"

The two of them fell silent for a moment. The noise of the party just washed over them. Normally Ebony loved sitting and letting the different noises meld together. But right now, he wanted to hear Ginger's voice more.

A thought occurred to Ebony. "Do you really want me to give Greyson a break? I mean, I still don't think it's a good idea asking him to dance, but he's plenty good company." Ebony flushed. "Or so I've heard."

To his surprise, Ginger laughed. "Trying to make me jealous?"

Ebony felt himself blush even more. "I-no-what?"

Ginger leaned closer. "Maybe I'd like to have you sing for me. And no one else."

Her eyes sparkled in the firelight. They were grey, like most people in the Seam, but hers were a bit lighter, and always full of life.

And she was looking right at him. Waiting.

He swallowed. He'd played plenty of love songs, seen his parents together growing up before his mom died in the mine collapse. But for him, romance had always seemed like something far away.

Like so many things, it came back to the Reaping. Every year, you saw people get Reaped, and their loved ones paraded in front of the Capitol. Interviewer demanding they spill all the details of their lives like it was one of their soap operas. And then, as always, watching them die.

People dealt with that in different ways. Greyson never got serious with anyone, moving on to the next one without looking back. Ebony… just didn't date.

But the Reaping was over. They were both, well, not free exactly. They were still living in Panem, and in District Twelve. Ebony might like his home district, but that didn't make it safe living as a miner. So if there was a time to take a risk, wouldn't it be now?

He swallowed again, trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth. "I-I- you ever been to the Meadow, Ginger?" He managed to say.

She smiled, slowly. "No, actually. I've always wanted to, but Ma always said she'd tan my hide if she caught me sneaking off after school."

"Well, school's over, and I haven't been there either. Wanna go sometime? I could give you a private concert."

Ginger's smile turned into a smirk. "Oh really?"

Arrgh. "Not like- I mean, I'm not saying… but "

There was that laugh again, the one Ebony could never tire of hearing. "I suppose it's a date. Next Sunday, then?"

Ebony could only nod. Anything more, and his mouth would be racing to keep up with his heartbeat, and he wouldn't be able to go because he'd die of embarrassment.

A tug on his sleeve cut his thoughts off. "We're back on." Jasper said, bass already in hand.

Ebony turned back to Ginger, who was still smiling wide. "Go ahead. I'll be watching."

In a daze, Ebony made his way back to the stage. He had a date with Ginger. A real date. Just like in the songs, only it was real, and her which made it so much better.

Ebony turned to the crowd, and met Ginger's eyes. He might not be able to get her the fancy things people sang about. And he might not be able to run away with her. But there was one thing he could do. He tapped Greyson on the shoulder and whispered in his ear. And Greysoon stepped forwards and asked the crowd the fateful question.

""Tell me, everyone. Are you going to the tree?"

"Excuse me"

Ebony turned at the small voice addressing him. The youngest kids weren't brought to late events at the Hob, but kids still love music, and he was happy to play for them when he had a chance. But it was late, so he prepared a polite refusal so he could get inside and collapse on his bed for the few hours he had before work. But he saw the halo of blonde hair in the moonlight, and the refusal died in his throat.

He swallowed. "Good evening, Prim. How can I help you?"

The girl shifted awkwardly, looking up at the dark haired man Ebony only just noticed in the dim light. Gale Hawthorne. He was on a different crew than Ebony, but everyone knew Hawthorne, who was of the few who went past the fence, like Katniss Everdeen. He didn't quite know who Katniss was to him, but the fact that he had taken her sister in said how deeply he cared. Tonight, he stood close behind Prim, a hand on her shoulder like he expected to need to protect her from an unseen threat at any moment. Ebony couldn't really blame him. He tried to look as safe and unthreatening as possible.

The silence deepened. Prim opened her mouth to speak several times, but nothing came out. Gale didn't seem inclined to break the silence either. So it was up to Ebony. He raised his fiddle case, and offered a gentle smile. "I have just enough time for one more song. Any requests?"

"The Meadow Song." Her soft voice struggled with the words."Please."

Ebony's heart ached for her as he brought out the fiddle. It felt like something needed to be said, but he hadn't known either Katniss or her mother, what kind of comfort could he offer?So, he just said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"She didn't kill herself, you know."

The words tumbled out of Prim's mouth, startling Ebony. He didn't quite know what to say to that, but she continued. "She promised Katniss. That she'd try. For me. She tried so hard. She did everything she promised; took her medicine." Tears were streaming down Prim's face now "Some of the things we make aren't safe if you take them wrong. She just took the wrong thing. It was just an accident…" Her voice broke and she turned away. He could just barely see the tears in the low light.

Ebony felt his heart break a little more. He'd been around the same age when his mother died in the mine collapse. The same one that took Hawthorn's dad. That left so many kids without parents. She'd never call herself a musician, but she loved to hear others he practiced at night, sometimes he imagined her listening from wherever she went.

He knew when your world was falling apart, words didn't mean much. "I'm sorry" He choked out again.

But words weren't all they had. He raised his fiddle. "The Meadow Song," he repeated.

He saw Gale's hand going to his pocket for money. Ebony couldn't shake his head more emphatically. "No charge."

This was something he had to do. One thing he'd found was there were times when words failed, but music could take on the burden.

This, here, was the reason he was a musician. To provide for people who needed it.

Earlier that night, he'd played for a thunderous crowd. The day before, he'd played where all of Panem could hear. But Ebony didn't think he'd have a more important gig than this. This was something he'd carry with him forever.

The first notes of the lullaby poured easily from his fingers; he'd played the song for his brother on dark winter nights. He didn't know if Prim's sister had sung for her, but upon hearing the notes she burst into tears, burying her face in Gale's arms.

Ebony hesitated for a split second, but forged on. If it was too much he'd stop, but right now he thought this was something she needed to hear. Gale, too.

"Deep in the Meadow…"

Edan Maltais District Ten Male

There wasn't a fabric Edan liked better than denim.

It was a common fabric in Ten. Study and practical like the District itself, but also homey and welcoming. Walking down the street to buy food or go to his herding job, he loved to see the dark blue of new denim, which only showed up in large numbers when the District was doing well. Dark blue denim meant people were safe and happy, able to take care of themselves and purchase new clothes on top.

But today there wasn't a lot of blue denim. Just a sea of white.

White clothes stained too easily, so most people only wore it on official occasions. White meant funerals, Reaping Days, the start of the Games, and the Victory Tour. When you wore white, someone was either dead or was going to die.

At this exact moment, Edan wasn't watching the dead return to the earth. He wasn't waiting for two people to be condemned. And the empty speeches reopening the wounds of the grieving had happened earlier in the day. But seeing nothing but white while standing waiting for the party to start caused a similar pit of discomfort to settle in his stomach.

Edan had never had reason to go into the Justice Building before. No one he knew personally had ever been Reaped, and he'd never had any business there before. But just as the train carrying their newest Victor had arrived, so had a formal invitation to "an intimate soiree" held to allow "the best and brightest among the young people of Ten to meet with out newest Victor"

Edan himself wouldn't have qualified, but his sister Piera was a local painter who had recently sold a painting to the mayor, and she was encouraged to bring guests. "Otherwise no one would show up" their friend Demitri said upon hearing the news. "Who really wants to meet someone who wanted to go and kill in the games?"

Edan didn't particularly. But he did want to look out for his sister, and Demetri wanted to look out for them both. So they were all here with maybe fifty more people, in their best clothes, waiting for the guest of honor to show up.

Edan stood to the side a cup of punch in hand, waiting for the interview to be over. He could barely hear them talking over the general noise of the event. Demetri had gone off to dance with a girl Edan didn't know.

Part of the glamour of being one of the "best and brightest" seemed to mean the Capitol always wanted a camera in your face. This was the second time this year the Capitol had taken an interest in Piera, the first time for a fluff piece about art in the Districts. One of those things that tried to paint the Districts as happy and not at all oppressed.

It had felt odd that they chose Piera for their programs. As she explained, she always tried to paint District Ten as it was, the good and the bad. The painting she sold to their new Escort showed a painful leg injury in the field, blood and all. The sort of thing their parents treated every day. Not exactly a bucolic scene, but the Capitol seemed to like it.

For now at least. Edan took another sip from his cup. He watched the face of the interviewer, looking for some sort of judgement, or offended look. Piera wouldn't deliberately hurt anyone, but Capitolites could be so unpredictable…

If they thought Piera was dissident, or even rude, they could destroy her. Nobody wanted to be in the eyes of the Capitol, not even for a supposedly good reason. If they looked at you too much, they might figure out your secrets. And most people had secrets they couldn't afford to let the Capitol know. The Maltais family was no different.

If something went wrong, if Piera was in danger-

You'd do what? What could someone like you even do?

Edan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force down the familiar feeling of doubt. He might not know what he could do, but he'd still try, dangit. He owed her that much. Edan down his drink forcefully.

"Hey, Edan!"

Demitri was back, hand in hand with a different girl. This one he recognized as Lea Foxmullet, from the local butchers. He'd had to stitch her up before and one particularly memorable time she'd stitched him up when he tried taking an additional job at her place of work. He didn't know her well, but he felt they were on relatively even grounds. He waved them over with as warm a smile as he could muster

"You're not gonna spend the whole night off to the side, are you?" Demetri asked coaxingly. "I know dancing ain't exactly your thing, but there's still plenty of nice people from all over Ten to talk to." Demitri paused then added. "Twos and Capitolites as well."

"Lots of pretty girls around." Lea added flirtatiously.

Edan's stomach squirmed a little. It wasn't exactly girls he was looking for, but that wasn't the sort of thing you brought up with casual acquaintances. He did mean to tell his parents soon. When things calmed down and they had the time.

Right now, Demetri was the only one who knew about any of that, and he smoothly changed the subject."How 'bout we all head over to the food, first? All that moving around, you know."

Edan felt a familiar surge of gratitude for having a best friend like Demitri. He gave him the most genuine smile he'd given all night, and started to take a step.

A familiar voice stopped him.

"And after all that work, we couldn't use that pasture for months. That was pretty much the last time I tried painting animals up close. " Edan heard her bell-like laugh, and a dutiful chuckle from the interviewer.

Edan couldn't quite move. His eyes darted from Piera to Demitri and back, Trying to figure out what he should be doing.

Edan felt a hand on his shoulder. Demitri's. "Edan," he said, kindly. "It's okay. She'll be fine."

He tried to take a deep breath. She'll be fine. He tried to repeat it to himself. Make himself believe it.

Lea chirped in "Yeah, Piera's a big girl." Her eyes narrowed playfully. "She doesn't need her baby brother to protect her."

A twinge of annoyance poked through Edan's mixed up feelings. "She's only two months older than me. That doesn't make me a baby."

"Sure it doesn't" Demitri gave his hair a quick ruffle, then added more quietly, "Seriously, it's okay to do have some fun. Do something for yourself for once."

Edan did do things for himself. He'd write in his journals, and read his books late at night. When there wasn't anyone else around who needed anything. But that wasn't what Demitri meant, and he knew it. Edan took a deep breath and looked down at his empty cup.

His third over the last hour and a half.

"Is it okay if I go to the bathroom first?" he asked sheepishly?

Demitri gave him a light slap on the back of the head. "You don't need my permission for that." He said with a half smile. "But we'll be waiting."

Edan gave him a grateful nod, then hurried off, away from the noisy crowds.

Luckily, he managed to find his way to the bathroom fairly quickly. Getting back to the ballroom was trickier. There were Capitolites everywhere. Some of them were talking about lighting and sound quality as they checked their fancy equipment, others were gossiping about outfits and people he didn't know. The last thing he wanted was to get in either group's way, so he took a few extra turns, and soon found himself hopelessly lost.

It was fine, though. Not the end of the world if he was a bit late, Edan reminded himself as he entered a hallway he hoped would lead him back.

Darn. Instead it led to a small portrait gallery. A sign on the wall declared it was an exhibition on the native arts of Ten. Edan did see what looked like one of Piera's works tucked in the corner. But there was someone standing between them. Someone Edan had only seen on tv or from a distance before then.

Cato Gunnerson. Victor of the 74th Hunger Games.

It was bizarre, seeing Cato here. Edan didn't watch more of the Games than he had to but he' certainly seen plenty of Cato. He remembered how the commenters crowed over his brutality, cooed over his looks.

Edan's stomach twisted. He had certainly been brutal. Not as bad as his district partner, laughed as she cut up Tye Martin. She was bad enough that Cato had to threaten her and Glimmer so she'd end his suffering already

But Cato hadn't exactly been merciful. Edan remembered how he lunged forwards at the Reaping, eager to become tribute. Remembered how he stabbed one of his allies in the back, how he kept slicing his final opponent even after the trumpets sounded.

But right now, Cato didn't look like that person. He was slumped forward staring at nothing. And his eyes…

Those blue grey eyes weren't burning with anger like they had during so much of the games. They were unfocused, holding back pain and loneliness that made Edan ache with their familiarity.

Edan hated seeing people in pain. An this wasn't the Games. Cato wouldn't hurt him here, right?

What would a Victor want from you anyway?

That was a good question. But Edan's legs were already moving, so he'd have to figure it out.

Cato must have heard Edan moving, because his head jerked up. "What?" he asked pointedly.

Instantly Edan felt regret, but it was too late now. His mind whirled as he tried to figure out what would help him the most. Compliments were usually good, but Cato was a Victor. He probably heard people flattering him all the time. He was also probably sick of people talking to him about the asking how he was feeling? Edan had been on the other end of those questions enough to know how uncomfortable they could be. Making people laugh was also a good rule of thumb, but that was easier when you knew what the person liked. Edan's eyes flitted around the room, looking for something to latch onto. His eyes rested on Piera's painting, and an idea flitted into his head. A bad idea, but better than nothing.

He stuck out his hand and smiled. "Edan Maltais. Yes, I'm the Edan Maltais."

Cato's eyes flickered with confusion. Confusion was better than sadness, at least. So Edan continued. He nodded towards the painting.

"That's me, you know" The painting itself was one of Piera's simpler works. She liked to paint everyday scenes, and decided she wanted to capture Edan grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle at the Apothecary. It was a good work

It also only featured Edan's hands and part of his right arm. "I'll have you know that's the most famous elbow in Ten."

Edan held his breath for a moment as Cato looked from him to the painting and back, his eyebrows furrowed. "Really?" he asked. "How does that happen? Does someone just come up and say 'Hey, I want to paint your elbow?'"

Inwardly, Edan sighed in relief. Cato already sounded more engaged. Edan grinned. "My sister painted that. She promised everyone in Panem would know me. Didn't say how."

Was that a bit of a smile? "Sisters." Cato mumbled. "They can be a lot."

Cato had sisters? Edan didn't remember that, but he hadn't really paid attention during the eight interviews.

Didn't matter now. He opened his mouth to continue the conversation when the door banged open. "Cato! There you are!"

Suddenly Capitolites flooded the room. Edan stepped back, trying to get out of the way while they clustered around Cato, fussing and applying makeup. A Capitolite entirely done up in different shades of red stepped forwards. "This is an important night for everyone here. You're the guest of honor and a Victor. You can't just hide away."

"I know." He mumbled. Even through the crush of people, Edan could see Cato drawing into himself. The same distant look entering his eyes.

No one else seemed to notice. They just chattered about timing and plans as they ushered him out. Edan expected to be left alone. But oddly, one stayed, flipping through a day planner and making notes. Then, she turned towards Edan.

She were particularly uncanny, even for a Capitolite. The red clothes, and flaming hair were one thing. Their skin, dyed tomato red, and blood red eyes were another. "What do you think you were doing?" they asked bluntly.

Edan felt his throat dry up. "I-I was-"

"I saw the special. You're the painter's brother." She looked him up and down. "You don't look related."

Edan was used to this sort of comment. After all, Piera was tall with deep brown curls and clear blue eyes; she always stood out in a crowd. Edan, meanwhile, with his freckles and ash brown hair, was the definition of average. Normally, when someone mentioned that, Edan would make a joke about identical twins. But this time, he simply nodded, and croaked out, "I was adopted at age twelve.

The Capitolite didn't respond, just continued to stare. So Edan awkwardly continued. "My-myy birth mom died having me. And my dad…"

Edan, sometimes things need to burn down before you can move forwards.

Edan struggled for an answer. "He died on the job. I don't really remember either of them." The words tumbled out, Edan hoped that would be enough.

Slowly, the Capitolite nodded. Suddenly, she stuck out a hand. "I'm Carmine. I'm going to be the Escort for District Ten this year."

Edan stood for a moment, too confused to respond. Then he took the hand, because what else could he do?

The Capitolite slowly shook it, her eyes never leaving him. "You're an interesting person, Edan Maltais." She checked her watch."You better get moving. The party should be in full swing right now." Carmine flashed her teeth, embedded with rubies. "Have some fun with your friends, now." Then, she turned and left.

For a few minutes, Edan just took a few deep breaths to steady himself. It was okay, he told himself. Nothing had gone wrong. He shouldn't worry. Push everything down. Have fun, like everyone said

Then, he forced his legs to move. Exited the gallery, and found the ballroom. Now that Cato had arrived, all the Capitolite's attention seemed to be on him. Piera had finished her interview, and was chatting happily with Demitri.

Sometimes, he wondered if there was something between them. He'd like that if there was. Best friend and family together. Edan smiled and found his way to them, made a joke about the Justice Building being a maze.

Talked.

Danced.

Laughed. Even had fun-

Crash!

The sound of breaking glass stopped everyone. Edan's blood went cold. He turned and saw the , standing over a broken punch bowl. Red liquid streaming over his fingers that definitely wasn't punch.

Once again, Edan's legs moved before he thought.

"Careful with that." Edan burst out as Cato's hands moved over the cuts. "There could still be glass-"

"What the fuck are you doing, brat?!"

Edan's head jerked up. He recognized the tall woman dressed in glittery green as the longtime escort for Two. He babbled "I'm an-I can help-"

"We have professionals for that! Get out!"

The room felt like it was tilting under his feet. He looked down at the shards spread all over. "What about the-"

"Out of the way. Now!"

Someone shoved him. Edan didn't see who. He just stumbled along. Trying to get away. Get anywhere but the loud room with all the people where he didn't belong.

Finally, he looked up. He was in a hallway.. A different one. Completely alone.

He sank to the floor.

What did you think would happen? That the Capitolites would need your help? That anyone would need you?

He was better than this, normally. Better at smiling, and being normal. He had everything he could want now. A job he loved, friends, and a loving family. Most of the time, he didn't feel the burning need to be useful, earn people's affection. He'd moved past that, found happiness in helping without tying his self worth to it. But everything, with the Capitolites and Cato, and seas of white with splashes of red…

It was too much.

"Edan?"

Piera. Edan just managed to hold his head up. Tried to wipe his tears before she saw them.

It didn't work. "Edan!" She rushed forwards, dropped to the ground, and wrapped her arms around him.

Edan leaned into the comforting embrace, only for the guilty to rear up again. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't want-"

"Stop." Her tone was firm, but full of love. And pain. Edan's stomach twisted more. "You don't need to do anything. You are not a burden. I love you because you are you. And you are enough."

The words were familiar. She'd told him that so many times, along with his parents, and even Demitri. He knew, in his head, they were right. He didn't need to earn anyone's love. But they had saved him so many times, he wanted to pay them back. And he never could. Sometimes it felt like he made things worse.

"She's right, you know" Demitri was there too, on his other side. Another arm curled around him. "Tell us what you need."

Edan didn't have the words. He just took a deep breath, and leaned into the hug. And he repeated the words to himself. Each time he felt them a little more.

I am enough.