Chapter Text
Felix crouched in the snowbanks beyond the District One Victor Village. January’s frost punctured his lungs, and the sky pitched pinks and golds out from behind the mountains. Technically, there was a bench somewhere under him. Max and his mentor, Sawyer, had built it sometime after the 25th as a project, and it had turned into the designated thinking spot.
Felix should not have come out here today. Thinking on days like today was dangerous. He glanced over his shoulder to confirm that his footprints were the only set still present.
There were two days that One’s victors dreaded when they had a new neighbor, and the first had arrived. Everything about the tour was awful. Spending prolonged time with their escort, Directa, was its own punishment; the preps never ceased to find new lows, and then there was the mind-numbing horror of being forced to stare at the faces of fallen tributes and their families while every camera watched his kid from an angle.
But she wasn’t really his kid, was she? Felix clutched a flask of coffee. The warmth had left it hours ago. Fifteen years of mentoring boys from the group home, boys who knew exactly what victory cost, and now he had a fifteen-year-old townie who still believed she'd be spared.
The first hints of red began to appear in the sunrise, and he pulled the scarf down from his face to get as much cold air into his lungs as possible. It brought a degree of clarity. They wouldn’t send him out on an appointment when he was there for the tour, would they? No. Ravinstill would have warned him. At most, he’d need to do arm candy duty. He could be arm candy! Arm candy was easy. But he wouldn’t think about that until the train pulled in.
She’d handled her first six months out with grace, much better than he had anyway. She still trained with her town friends, he threw knives with her almost daily, but she seldom joined her branch of the victor family tree for Thursday night dinners at Max’s house. Every now and then she'd say something breathtakingly stupid about the outer districts, poor families, or carbohydrates. He chalked a lot of it up to the fact that she was fifteen and her mother was a terror.
“Ottorons 2.0” Vic had called them.
They hadn’t actually earned the title until their first month in the village. The Mayor threw a celebratory dinner at the Justice Building to celebrate another victory for One. Pal and Nichol didn’t attend because Laurel had a fever and the games had kept them apart for almost a month and a half this year.
“Why didn’t they just hire a sitter?” Alessandra Ritchtarson asked halfway through dinner. She was a glass deep, and her face was getting red. Felix sipped his water and looked over at Max.
Max didn’t even put his fork down. “Because Pal didn’t get to see his wife or child for 39 days while we were trying to keep your child alive.”
Alessandra was exactly the sort of townie Felix avoided— convinced that if District One smiled brightly enough while sacrificing its children, the Capitol might someday mistake them for citizens. So, of course, they’d thought their children would win. Of course, they thought the whispers of the fate of One’s victors were nothing more than rumors. Of course, they felt that they were the exception. And instead of trying to help their child through hell, they told her to smile more.
He finally made progress with Cashmere after a freak November ice storm trapped her father in town, and the village promptly converted the hill into a sled range for races. Mrs. Richtarson refused to be involved in “childish games” and instructed Cashmere to stay inside. Felix told Cashmere to stay if she wanted, but sled races in the village tended to get intense, and he’d understand if she wanted to sit out for fear of losing.
Felix spent the next hour laughing hysterically as he, Pal, and Vic all tried to fit in a sled together like they were baby victors again. Meanwhile, Ruby threatened to divorce Max unless they won the next race. At one point, Satine caught air and went headfirst into a snowbank. The laughter resumed once they knew she was ok. Felix’s sides ached because Vic punched him when he’d suggested they send her cat down on a sled, and also because he hadn’t laughed this hard in months. Cashmere’s competitive streak eventually compelled her to make an appearance. The others stepped away and pretended to engage in conversation as they continued through the rotation. He offered her the sled and told her the current record was 8 seconds. She bit her lip.
“I don’t know how.” She hissed. Felix blinked. What kid from One didn’t know how to hurl themself off an icy hill on top of anything from cardboard to a sheet of metal? Oh. A kid whose parents had spent her entire life training her for the games and pretending they were better than the district they lived in.
“Ok. Watch Vic.” There truly was nothing more to it than just running and jumping. Vic made it look easy because it was easy. He handed over the sled.
“What if I break an ankle?”
“You won’t.” She glared at him. “Cashmere, you will not break anything. And if you do, we’ll deal with it.” She took the sled and kept the glare up. “Do you want a buddy?” She shook her head and then glanced back down at the hill and nodded. “Alright, Zara’s the best at-” A look of horror crossed her face.
“I thought you were the best.” She said it innocently, but with a slight smirk.
“President Snow, why do you test me with this child?” He muttered loud enough for her to hear. She grinned. He did not get her in any sense. Some days, she craved reassurance; on other days, she picked a fight. “Fine. Come here. Press your stomach to the sled, hold onto the handles, jump when I say go.” He kept his arm around her so she wouldn’t go flying off the sled. Max pulled Pal back so they could have the next turn, and Felix nodded his thanks. “Ok. Three, Two, One, jump.” He wasn’t sure if the scream was terror or joy, but she demanded to go with him three more times before announcing she could do it solo.
The sun set, and she finally joined her victor branch of the village for dinner at Max’s, where she’d revealed her Mother wanted her brother to be the male volunteer next July. Pal went white, and Nichol rubbed his back for a minute. Felix swallowed.
“She wants us to be the first sibling winners.” Cashmere played with the edge of the tablecloth. “Consecutive years.”
“Thank you for telling us.” Felix tried to think about how he could follow that up. Technically, he would be one of the recommenders this year since he wasn’t the primary mentor. Could the program really expect him to give feedback on his kid’s brother? And even as he said it, he knew they would. Volunteering wasn’t a slapshod operation anymore.
So what could he do? He couldn’t make a promise he’d have no ability to keep. And he’d heard rumors about volunteer selection being manipulated often enough for him to believe there was truth to it. Volunteering was a noble thing, why cheapen the sacrifice?
“We will talk to them.” Max decided. “There are many good reasons to walk into an arena. The desire for consecutive sibling victors is not a good reason.” He paused. “Plus, we barely survived getting Pal, Felix, and Vic within five years of each other.”
That got a genuine smile out of Cashmere. “Was it chaotic?” She asked. That was another weird thing about her. She loved stories about Pal, Felix, and Vic when they were young idiots. Felix and Pal glanced at each other. Pal shrugged, and Felix took a sip of water to hide his grin.
“It was a shitshow,” Ruby muttered. Everyone glared at her. “What? It was. Pal came home, Mila was born, we got Felix, then Millie, then a snowstorm, quell, and Victoria appeared on our doorstep.” She sipped her water and glanced at the rest of them. Cashmere giggled.
Alessandra Richtarson refused to pull Gloss from training. Felix talked to her. She told him to stop worrying and that, obviously, her children were good enough to make it through one arena; why not two? Pal talked to her, and she said Gloss wasn’t an idiot like Panache. Felix and Pal chopped wood for hours. Satine’s father talked to Alessandra. The entire village heard Cashmere scream at her mother and then storm over to Felix’s porch.
“Knives?” He suggested. She nodded. And for a half hour, the only sound was her grunting as her knives missed the target’s dead zone. “You know it’s your house, right?” He asked. “You control who lives there with you. If you want her out, we can have peacekeepers move her back to town by tonight.”
“You’d understand if you had parents.” She replied dully as she lined up her next shot.
Felix frowned. “I do have parents.” He corrected. How stupid was she? Everyone had parents. Her knife went wide and missed. “They loved me very much. Dad died in a mining incident before I was born, Ma brought me to the group home when the silica sickness started taking her.”
Cashmere had the decency to look embarrassed. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She dropped a knife. “Is it true that the Capitol doesn’t have group homes?” He shrugged. He’d never heard of them there, but they also wouldn’t really need them. Capitol adults worked fewer manual-labor jobs that led to accidents, and families were large enough that if a great-aunt or grandmother needed to step in, they could.
“From what I know, they use a family support network.” He replied. Cashmere nodded. “No one does group homes like One.” The victors who grew up there donated a portion of their winnings to help cover the operating costs. Kids could take out tesserae without fear. The program ran job apprenticeships. He’d had a good childhood there.
The sun won the daily battle to retake her place. Felix took another few breaths of the freezing air. He was so glad his arena had been a desert. He got to leave it behind and come home to the ice that provided clarity. Somewhere in town, morning shift whistles rang out. People clocked into the factories, and teams descended into the Earth for precious gems. The boys he’d grown up with would mostly be there. He gave himself a few minutes to indulge the fantasy of Lux or Pilber going into the arena instead of him. They’d probably have won. There was nothing special about Felix or his arena in that anyone could have crawled out of it. Lux would be Pal and Vicky’s victor siblings, and that thought made him a little sad.
If he kept the alternative life theory going, Felix’d be a gem miner, and he’d have married a nice girl. He’d braid sweetgrass into a crown for her and bring her wildflowers on the walk home. Maybe he’d have a kid or two, but secretly he’d want to take in someone from the group home. Coffee and chocolate would be special treats from Victor Parcels. The Capitol would be a faraway place, and in that life, he’d be happy.
Reds and oranges plumed out through the sky now. He pushed up from the ground and began the trek through the meadow back to his house. All across District One, his people were going to work, and he needed to do the same. The snow crunched under his boots, and he made a game out of kicking the powder up to shower himself. The moon was still visible. Smoke from the town’s chimneys appeared. And Felix remembered that he was happy in this life, too.
The show would start around eleven, leaving him with five hours of freedom. He brewed another pot of coffee and pulled a blanket around his shoulders in the window. He grabbed a notebook and started with a “Top 10” list to settle himself. What list did he want to do? Ten things he was excited about for the tour? He would get to see the victor gang, and that would be fun. He’d get to see Ravinstill, Justinia, and the motley little crew of not-gamemakers who kept them all sane. He could make a game of trying to stroke Directa, their escort, out.
Maybe they’d get Effie Trinket as the replacement. She seemed nice.
He looked out the window to see who else had lights on, and smiled a little sadly as he started his list for real. Top 10 Things I will miss about District One.
1) The victor’s village in January. The snowdrifts could reach heights of up to 20 feet. The winter before the quell, the snowdrifts had been so high they weren’t allowed to leave the village for fear of an avalanche. Peacekeepers brought them supplies on snowmobiles.
2) Thursday night dinner with Max and Pal. Cashmere was actually participating more frequently in those now. She didn’t talk a lot, but it was a step in the right direction.
3) District One’s bread. The Capitol made it a habit to provide bread from everyone’s home district when they were there (which he did appreciate), but their bakers hadn’t quite figured out how to get it quite right.
4) His victor siblings. He was so lucky to have them. They got each other in a way that town friends just didn’t.
5) His age cohort from the group home. They got him in a way that the village didn’t. They’d known who he was before he was a victor, and it’d taken him years to get comfortable with seeing them again, but the second they’d all reunited, it’d been like no time had passed.
6) Mila and Mille Josten. The Josten girls were gracious enough to share their parents with Pal and Felix for the low price of cookouts and flower crowns. Frankly, it was a steal.
7) Not being a commodity. Enough said.
8) Hiking in the mountains. One’s favored status meant that its victors could hike out in the real mountains beyond the village and unwind when it all got to be too much. He’d wait until June to take Cashmere out there, though. It wasn’t safe in the snow.
9) Privacy, his own clothes, his own bed.
10) Being Felix.
He flipped the notebook closed and set it on the table. Did he want to bring a book? If he brought a book, it would mean that Directa would surely comment on being surprised that he could read. That could be funny, it could also be demoralizing. He added another notebook to the table. If Cashmere wasn’t going to tell him what was going on in her head, maybe she’d journal it out. A mentor could dream.
Lights began to appear in the village. Felix packed a sleep set, some chocolate, and a sweater he’d stolen from Max a decade ago. Technically, the Capitol provided everything they’d need for the next month, but he’d told Cashmere to pack some personal stuff anyway. Vic volunteered to drop the bags off at the train station while the rest of them dealt with reporters in the village. Such a generous offer.
The tub filled with hot water and lavender as he undressed. He folded the clothes one at a time. It didn’t matter that they were going straight into the laundry pile. Folding his clothes when they came off at home was just one of the entrenched lines he’d dug to protect himself from the there.
Slowly, he worked shampoo through his hair. It was getting long. Would the preps want to do anything with it? He liked the length it was at right now. Just long enough to pull back, but not long enough to yank. If they made him get a perm to match Cashmere, he was calling Ravinstill. Lapdog status be damned, he was not getting a perm. They’d given up the charade that he was a natural blonde at least. Or maybe the story was that he was getting darker as he aged? He closed his eyes and slipped under the water to rinse the shampoo. He hoped the prep teams could make it work. He did find himself fixating on Max’s hair recently. Wisps of silver were appearing near his ears. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine Max aging. He couldn’t imagine any of them aging, actually.
He dressed in a gray turtleneck and a clean pair of black pants. It’d look good with his long black coat. The sun was already in the sky as he dabbed concealer under his eyes and fixed up his eyebrows. It wasn’t beauty base zero, and the preps would probably want to add some eyeliner, but it was good enough for now. Knocking on the back door startled him.
“It’s open!” He hollered. Pal arrived carrying a cookie tin.
“I come bearing gifts.” He paused. “You look nice.” He nodded approvingly and took a swat at Felix’s shoulder. Felix dodged him. “Anyway, bread from home.” He lifted the lid, and the warm smell of One’s egg-washed bread filled the room. Felix had to resist the urge to tear off a piece.
“Did you make this?”
“Yes. I woke up at the crack of dawn for you, so don’t say I never give you anything.” Felix took the tin gratefully and swore to take Pal’s side the next time he and Vic fought. The others drifted through.
Mila and Millie Josten appeared with garlic knots from the bakery Mila apprenticed at. Mila hugged him tight. “Don’t let them bully you.” She whispered.
“I won’t.”
“And don’t look stupid on TV either.” Millie advised. She sat at his kitchen counter with Pal.
“That one will be a little harder for me to manage.” Felix replied. He looked over at Mila and Millie. “Do you guys want chocolates from the Capitol?”
“No, we want you home safe and sound.” Mila replied.
Millie raised her hand. “If you can get those vanilla creme bon bons...”
“Millie!” Mila shouted.
Felix grinned. “Vanilla creme bon bons, Mila, are you sure you don’t want the raspberry ones?”
“If you can obtain them without too much trouble.” Mila decided. “But only if.”
Satine had a homemade beaded bracelet for him and another one for Cashmere. Vic wore her cat in a baby carrier on her front. Felix wondered what was wrong with her. Zara slipped sweetgrass oil and a handkerchief into his pocket.
“It’s just the tour.” He muttered. “We’ll be fine.”
“You will be.” She agreed. “But let us ease the way.” She tucked a tendril of hair behind his ear. “Tell everyone, except Catherine, that we send our greetings?” Felix nodded.
Cashmere’s house was a scene of chaos when he showed up. Alesandra yelled about it not being clean enough, and Cashmere sat at the kitchen table picking at her nails. She still wore her pajamas and a long dressing gown over the set, like a proper Capitol woman.
“Hey, kid.” She smiled when he dropped into the chair next to her. “We’re going to send Vic down to the station now. Is your bag ready?”
“Mother told me the Capitol would provide everything I needed.” She nodded. Of course, Alesandra had been on a Victory Tour before, and of course, she knew best.
“Yeah, they handle clothes, food, transport. But you want your toothbrush, right? Do you want soap from home?”
“The soap there is the soap from here.” She replied. He nodded. That was a very good point. Alessandra was still yelling about how they needed to set out a food platter for hospitality.
“What about bringing a book?” She shook her head. He wanted to ask about bringing a favorite stuffed animal, because he knew more than a few grown victors who swore by them, but he also didn’t want a knife to the head. “Trust me on this. Worst case, you have your stuff, and it never leaves your bag.”
“Fine.” She stormed away as if Felix had personally cursed her bloodline, leaving him at the kitchen table. Mrs. Richtarson came back down wearing a nice sweater set and gold earrings that he had never seen before. He resisted the urge to ask about how much of Cashmere’s victor stipend was going to her.
Felix waved greetings. “Don’t stress about food platters.” He offered. “They’re going to eat on the train. They want their sound bites, and then they want to leave.” She smoothed out her skirt with her palms and glared at him like Directa. And something in him remembered that group home boys didn’t talk to town girls because they were nothing but trouble.
She pursed her lips. “If we do well today, that will help Gloss when it’s his turn.”
Felix tilted his head automatically, as if he were at an appointment hearing audacious gossip. Something in him balked in terror because he was supposed to be safe here, and Alessandra Ritchtarson was District One, same as him and same as Cashmere. “Panache was confident too. You weren’t around for the aftermath of the 50th. It was months before Pal could go outside again. Do you want that for Cashmere?”
“That was different.”
“Right. Pal had four years to learn how to mentor and work the system. Cashmere will be in year one. Your child is alive; 23 other families would give anything for that. Don’t push your odds.”
She paused. “My children are gifted.”
“I agree. And I cannot tell you how many gifted children die in the arena every year.” Gemma. Glinda. Almondo. Karyn. Loupe. Silka. Carat. Panache. Victor. Astra. Cassie. Victor. Trivot. Not to mention the kids from the rest of Panem. Felix held eye contact with her. She looked away first. Interesting.
The next few hours were a blur. The preps did put subtle eyeliner on him; they just had to make his eyes pop. Vic stashed bags on the train.
He approved the outfit Tigris had sent for Cashmere. Nice slacks, a nice sweater, and one long braid off to the side. They were sticking with a girl-next-door look, and Felix was grateful. The longer they could keep Cashmere looking like someone’s daughter, the better.
Directa beamed with pride at their newest victor as she read from some cards about flower arranging. Mrs. Ritchtarson snapped at Cashmere to suck her stomach in, and Directa snapped back that Cashmere was fine. Felix suggested that he and Alesandra have coffee in the kitchen while Directa finished up. Alessandra opened her mouth to disagree, but no one could disagree with Directa and survive. She sent them packing.
Briefly, Felix wondered what the nation was coming to if Directa was defending One’s victors now.
The others gave the standard “what’s it like to have a new neighbor” interviews outside, while Felix offered some easy sound bites about successful mentoring.
Was he excited for the tour? Of course! The food, the travel, the celebrations, it was the best time of the year!
Was Cashmere enjoying the life of a victor? She’s young for a volunteer victor, so they’re just taking everything one day at a time. Teenagers, you know?
Was he excited for the Games next year? Of course! The food, the travel, the celebrations, it was the best time of the year!
Did he have a reaction to being one of the finalists for sexiest victor of all time? Well, he wanted to know who the other finalists were.
His stomach twisted as Alessandra pitched her older son as a future volunteer, and it bottomed out entirely when the kid spawned into the kitchen. The reporters fed right into it.
Cashmere darted from the living room and into the kitchen and stood next to Gloss as he answered a few questions about what it was like to be the older brother of a victor. She knocked into him, and he did the same. Gloss stood up a little straighter once she was there. The reporters mentioned hearing a little rumor that Gloss might volunteer next year, and the boy went red in the ears. Cashmere was quick to state that she hoped she stayed the only victor in the family, and Felix winced. Cashmere quickly corrected to saying that she hoped she would be the only tribute in the family. She looked over to Felix with a panicked look, and he nodded.
Directa screeched about the schedule. Felix didn’t know why. Was being late to District 12 the end of the world? The preps tossed Cashmere into a white wool coat and a rose scarf. Felix swallowed his laughter when they stuck a pillbox wool hat on her. Karma set in on him quickly as the preps threw a blue scarf over him and matched it with leather gloves. Still. He knew better than to complain. A hug to Pal and Nichol. A promise to their daughter, Laurel, that he’d bring her something. Victoria hugged him for a beat, without hitting him.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered.
"I'm not." He replied. "I'm not bringing you back any candy though. Get yourself summoned next time." She laughed.
Max fixed the lapels of Felix’s coat and laid his scarf flat.
“Are you, or are you not my kid?” He asked with the slightest smile on his face.
“I am your kid,” Felix confirmed.
“And don’t you forget it.”
And then they were off to the train.