Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It has been five years since Apollo had to let go of his alias as Burdock Everdeen. No gods can play pretend forever, sooner or later Zeus gets impatient and you either force yourself back to Olympus yourself, or the king of Olympus can decide to drag you back himself. Suppose it’s true, what they say, that absolute power corrupts absolutely.

This morning everyone would be reminded of that, but no one would say it out loud. That Zeus had become a tyrant in league with Kronos and Uranos before him. So far he hasn’t swallowed any of his kids as far as anyone knows, but that’s a low bar.

Apollo stretches and turns to his side. He gently traces the lines of the bare back in front of him. Percy never allows himself to get drunk or high on some substance before the Reaping, or anything related to the Hunger Games, but he occasionally comes to Apollo to shut off his mind. It is an odd situationship, but Apollo would never turn him away. He doesn’t envy the job Percy is forced to do.

“The odds have never been in your favour,” he mumbles to Percy’s sleeping form.

Then he forces himself to get out of bed and raise the sun. Reaping or not, it has to be done. Apollo wonderes when he stopped enjoying it.

What once was North America is now Panem. It is a new era of glory, the Ancient times born again, an Olympian Renaissance, at least according to Zeus. Panem does indeed share a remarkable resemblance with the Roman Empire, but unlike New Rome, it hasn’t turned away from the more loathsome practices. The Gladiators back in ancient times had at least been adult, and actual criminals, at least according to court rulings. Having people fight each other to the death for the entertainment of the masses was already quite distasteful, but literal children?

Apollo shakes his head. There is no point in dwelling on it. He can’t stop it, not with Zeus backing the system. He can only hold his breath and hope none of his own children has caught Zeus suspicious glare this year.

Raising the sun over the eastern districts, he starts his mental headcount of children he knows of that could be reaped this year. He allows himself to cast a sneak peek into district 12, where he lived as Burdock before Zeus staged that mining accident to force him back home to Olympus, along with Ares. All gods make aliases for themselves every now and then to get a break from Olympus these days. His daughter still hangs out with Ares’ kid hunting in the woods. That perplexes Apollo, seeing as he’d never hang out with Ares willingly, but who knew, maybe Gale Hawthorne was better company than his father. 

Regardless, they’d both be standing herded together with other children their age like cattle in front of the Justice Building in a few hours. And so would Apollo’s younger daughter, Primrose, or simply Prim, for the first time this year. A twelve year old, at risk of dying by the hands of other children. Distasteful. But Apollo is powerless before it all. If he’d try to intervene, Zeus would punish him gravely, and it wouldn’t make a difference.

Being the easternmost district, 12’s reaping is the first one. Apollo is there, invisible to mortal eyes, and grateful that he’s not alone, there are always a few gods disguised among the people who have demigod kids of reaping age, and Percy watches every reaping in person in every district. There is no Camp Half Blood anymore, and Apollo doesn’t know of any living demigods who actually know that they are demigods. The Hunger Games is the only “quests” heroes are sent on these days. There was a time when heroes won glory by feats that actually benefited their society and Olympus, now the only available way to win glory is to kill other demigods.

“You have two in this district, right?” Percy whispers, looking ahead. He always looks broken at this time of the year.

“Yeah,” Apollo replies, knowing Percy religiously keeps tabs on every single demigod in Panem, and already knows exactly how many living kids all gods have everywhere. It’s his job.

He looks at the sections of children lined up in front of the Justice Building and spots his two girls. Prim’s shirt sticks out of her skirt like a little ducktail, and Katniss has one of Astrid’s old dresses from her time as a pharmacist. He wishes he could have hugged them both this morning, reassured them somehow that everything would be fine, even though he would’ve had no way of knowing that. The system is unfair. The poor children who struggle to get food each day are desperate enough to agree to have their names entered more times in exchange for food and the younger from the Seam has a higher chance of being reaped than the older merchant children, at least in theory. In reality there’s another factor in the game. Zeus keeps tabs on the most powerful demigods that can be found in the districts, not as well as Percy, but well enough. If he thinks one of them could pose a threat, even a minor one, he can rig the lottery and let the Hunger Games eliminate them or break them. The number of demigods reaped every year is disproportionate to the overall population, even with the tesserae taken into account, and the victors are made up of demigods exclusively. Everyone on Olympus knows it, but nobody says it out loud. Mortal children simply stand no chance against the half bloods, they usually die off quickly in the initial blood bath.

Percy squeezes his hand and Apollo knows it’s just as much for his own sake as his. The mayor and the escort are mumbling and looking at an empty chair. Apollo glances at Percy, who’s already put on his Poker Face, Special Reaping Edition™. They end up starting without the third companion and Apollo zones out while the mayor has his obligatory propaganda speech about Panem’s history and the justifications to slaughter innocent children. And how it’s all treated like it’s the Olympic Games, rather than Gladiator games.

District 12 has only ever had two victors. Apollo’s daughter, Lucy Grey Baird, and Haymitch Abernathy, who chooses this moment to make his grand entrance, stumble towards the scene, yelling something incomprehensible, and falling down on his chair. He’s an excellent example of how even the victors of the games are broken down until they’re no longer a threat. Had the circumstances been different, his daughters would have grown up viewing him as an uncle, and possibly had his own children with Hermes’ daughter, whom he had a relationship with before she was poisoned and died. Now here he is, making a fool of himself being drunk off his ass as he always is. People are gonna laugh at him later when the rerun of all reapings are shown on Hephaestus TV, asking each other if he isn’t actually Dionysus’ kid.

Except for Percy. He never laughs at how far any victor has fallen.

“We all know who should really feel ashamed,” Apollo sometimes hears him mutter under his breath.

Right now, the mayor tries to stir the attention back to the games by introducing Effie Trinket, who was barely able to escape Haymitch’s attempt at a big hug.

“Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!” That phrase is a mockery, and Apollo doesn’t listen to the lines about what an honor it is for Effie to be here. “Ladies first!”

Katniss’ name is entered twenty times, Prim’s one, but if Zeus has meddled with the lottery those numbers don't matter. The mortals have no idea just how unfair the reapings really are. All his daughters ever do is try to get enough food to survive, but Zeus is unpredictable about who could be seen as a threat.

Apollo squeezes Percy’s hand so tightly he probably would have broken a few bones if Percy had still been mortal.

Effie picks up a note from one of the glass bowls and reads the name.

“Primrose Everdeen!”

Percy has to catch Apollo when his legs buckle under him. Prim is only twelve years old and wouldn’t hurt a fly, quite literally. She’s a sweet little girl with knowledge of healing that could rival her brothers Asclepios and Will Solace, and has a way of making everyone like her without even trying. Why her?

But Apollo knows why. It’s a tactic from Zeus’ side. An especially cruel tactic. In cases of siblings Zeus only has to reap one to break both. One dies a horrible death in the arena and the other is traumatized for life. Prim isn’t a threat on her own, it’s her sister who is the target. Zeus probably expects Katniss to react similarly to how their mother reacted when Apollo was ripped away from them.

He tries to hold back a strangled cry as he spots his Primrose walk towards the stage. He wants to run forward to help her tuck in the little ducktail and run off with her, away from the danger. But it wouldn’t work. Zeus would track him down and he’d be forced to watch his daughter be killed anyway.

But Prim never reaches the stage. Katniss runs up to her and calls out that she volunteers as tribute.

Apollo lets out another strangled cry. He gets stuck between relief and more horror. Percy’s grip on his hand is probably the only thing stopping him from actually running up to his daughters this time.

“Lovely!” he barely hears Effie exclaim. “But I believe there’s a small matter of introducing the reaping and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…” She trails off. District 12 hasn’t had a volunteer in decades, and now nobody here really knows how to handle it.

“What does it matter?” The mayor looked at Katniss. Apollo thought for a moment the guy perhaps recognized her, she was friends with his daughter after all. “What does it matter? Let her come forward.”

But Prim doesn’t want her sister to go either. She screams and tries to cling to Katniss until the boy Gale has to pull her away. Katniss climbs the stairs on shaky legs, but only those who know her would probably notice that. Effie eats it all up, clearly glad that something notable happens in the district that isn’t at her expense, and eagerly asks for her new tribute’s name.

“Katniss Everdeen.”

“I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don’t want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!”

Apollo wants to smite Effie Trinket for her tone deaf and downright offensive attitude. It’s only because Percy tightens his grip on his hand that he doesn’t. It’s a good thing that he’s present at every reaping, Percy understands the assignment, he knows how to ensure no terrified godly parents smites anyone or does anything else that might land them at the wrong end of Zeus’ lightning bolt.

The mortals of District 12 have more honor than the escort. No one claps, they stay silent. And then, as if they’re all thinking with one mind, they raise three fingertips to their lips and hold them out to the daughter of Apollo. It’s the only sign of respect and admiration that can be considered appropriate at this moment.

Apollo glances at Percy, who’s also doing the gesture with his free hand, he might even have been the one to start it. Then Haymitch steals the attention again and Percy puts his poker face back on. Apollo wants to kiss his knuckles but is distracted by Haymitch pointing right towards a camera and taunting the Capital. How drunk must he be? Or maybe drunkenness is a convenient excuse. Before Haymitch can continue though, Percy stops him with a barely noticeable hand movement and the victor loses balance and tumbles right off the stage. Probably for the best, had he gone into a rant the authorities may not have been able to ignore it.

Once that is dealt with, Effie moves on to pick the male tribute.

“Peeta Mellark.”

Peeta Mellark must be one of Otho Mellark’s sons. Apollo doesn’t recall much about either of them, but he catches a hint of recognition in his daughter’s eyes. Watching the ash blond kid starting to walk towards the stage, Apollo recognized him too. He is indeed one of Otho’s sons, the one who’d once burned some bread just so Katniss could have it. He’s the kid who probably saved his daughters’ lives after he’d been forced to leave them and their mom.

Apollo turns to Percy.

“Demeter’s son,” Percy answers the silent question.

Demeter’s son. Indeed, Apollo spots a blonde woman inconspicuously standing a few feet away from them who probably won’t be remembered by the mortals around her but he recognizes her as his aunt. She stands there with wet eyes and a hand covering her mouth. Why did Zeus reap Demeter’s son when Ares’ son was running around outside the district, screaming treacherous insults about the regime? What had Peeta Mellark ever done to earn Zeus’ ire.

Though he did have an inkling. Gale’s anger didn’t really pose any threat. It was all words. Should he ever try to actually instigate some sort of uproar, the peacekeepers would execute him fairly quickly and then everything would go back to normal with the only real difference being that the boy’s family now had a harder time getting by. Peeta was a potential threat of a different, more subtle kind. He was the kind of hero who took a beating so he could secretly feed a girl he’d never even spoken to. He had the capacity to be compassionate under a government constantly trying to squeeze out compassion. Especially between Seam and Merchant. 

Peeta’s act of compassion had saved Apollo’s daughters and former lover. And that was probably why Zeus now saw him as a threat.

Chapter Text

What Apollo does after the dull Treaty of Treason and the anthem is not strictly against the rules, Zeus just doesn’t like it. But most gods do it when their children are reaped for the games. 

He appears invisible in the room his daughter is led to. It’s the only support he can offer her, lest he wants to personally sign her death certificate. The gods are allowed to sponsor tributes once they’re in the area, but they cannot give them a simple hug. No direct interference, it’s only thanks to Percy’s efforts that they can do anything at all.

Astrid and Prim are the first to enter after about a minute where Katniss marveled over the velvet fabric of the couch. Apollo watches as the three of them hug on the couch, everyone trying to keep their tears back, with Apollo failing miserably. Katniss doesn’t want to talk about her coming battle of life and death, she talks strategy for Astrid and Prim, and how they are to survive. She rapidly goes through the plan she clearly has prepared with Gale Hawthorne long ago. Apollo has to grind his teeth not to step forward and tell his daughter to stop talking as if she is already dead.

Katniss then turns to her mother.

“Listen to me. Are you listening to me? You can’t leave again.”

Apollo watches the iron grip his daughter has on her mother’s arm and feels a lump growing in his gut. He had seen from afar how Astrid had sunken into a deep depression after his supposed death. She’d been bedridden for months, and their daughter had to pick up the slack. Grief can do that and worse. In those months, Apollo had watched, and wished he’d stayed away. Astrid was broken, and that was Apollo’s fault.

If he could, he’d firmly tell Katniss not to talk to her mother like that. But he can’t, and he also can’t really blame Katniss for being scared. She had picked up the slack for her family at age eleven after he’d been forced to leave them, she had become the family breadwinner while her mother had become incapacitated. Of course she was worried about what would happen when- IF , if she would die.

Apollo watches Katniss and Astrid argue, worried they’d end up fighting during what might be their last moment together. Thankfully Prim steps in to diffuse the situation.

“I’ll be all right, Katniss. But you have to take care too. You’re so fast and brave. Maybe you can win.”

Katniss doesn’t believe her. Apollo can see it in her eyes, body language, and her everything. He doubts Astrid or Prim is fooled either when she jokes about being rich like Haymitch. Nobody cares about the riches a victory would gain. Instead, Prim makes Katniss swear that she’ll try to win. Apollo is glad about that. His girls aren’t going to go down without a fight, but he knows enough about them to know that Katniss probably doesn’t care enough about her own life, and will only try extra hard for Prim’s sake.

When the Peacekeepers come they all embrace each other. Apollo takes the risk and wraps his invisible arms around his former lover and two daughters. They won’t notice the presence, but it adds a tiny bit of warmth to the hug. Secretly, it’s mostly for his own sake.

Katniss buries her face in a pillow after they leave. Apollo wipes off the tears from his cheeks, he has to stay strong for a little longer.

Otho Mellark is the one to visit her next, which is odd if you consider that his son would have to die for Katniss to get home, or Katniss would die for Peeta. But Otho knows both Katniss and Prim. Katniss is known by most for the game and fruit she brings and trades at the Hob. Many people in the district have eaten her meat from Greasy Sae’s soup, or the butcher, when she’s brought home some big game, like deer. And Prim has built a small business from the goat milk and cheese she produces. Otho has bought Katniss' squirrels plenty of times and Prim has made it a habit of setting aside some of the cheese for him. He probably also knows Astrid from when they were kids. Regardless, he probably has a kind enough heart to recognize that none of this is Katniss’ fault, and actively not hold her accountable. If Demeter took an interest in him, there must have been a good reason.

Otho hands Katniss a package of cookies and they exchange a few awkward phrases. Katniss has never been much for socializing and Otho is a textbook example of an introvert. Apollo wonders if he had those cookies at hand at the reaping, or if he rushed home to pack them when his son had been reaped, and then decided to pack some for Katniss as well. Maybe the baker had thought the children reaped needed something sweet, whoever they turned out to be, or maybe he wanted to show Katniss that he holds no resentment.

They spend the rest of their time in silence, but before he leaves Otho tells Katniss that he’ll look after Prim. Apollo decides that it doesn’t matter when the cookies were packed, he’s grateful for the baker’s good will.

Katniss’ next guest is her friend Madge, who is surprisingly followed by her grandmother, Aphrodite. Apollo has to hold back a surprised gasp as he watches her, but Aphrodite doesn’t offer an explanation. She looks intently at the girls, something in her eyes makes Apollo think she’s up to something, relating to personal matters.

“They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?” Madge holds out a golden pin to put on Katniss’ dress.

Apollo frowns. He can’t see it very clearly from his angle, but it’s clearly important to Madge. And from the looks of it, it’s even more important to Aphrodite. He meets her eyes and asks her a silent question. She shakes her head almost noticeably. It wasn’t her who gave Madge this idea, but she is supporting it.

“Here, I’ll put it on your dress, all right? Promise you’ll wear it into the arena, Katniss? Promise?”

“Yes,” Katniss responds, a bit dumbfounded. Apollo wonders if she’s really that surprised there are people who actually care about her outside her family.

Madge gives her a kiss on the cheek in stead of a goodbye and walks out of the room. Aphrodite moves to follow, but Apollo grabs her arm, hoping for some sort of explanation.

“It was Maysilee’s,” Aphrodite tells him, voice carefully neutral.

Apollo lets go of her. Why Aphrodite would want his daughter to have a piece of her own daughter’s jewelry only brings more questions. If she wanted it to be symbolic in some way, to show that people still remembered the brave, headstrong tribute from District 12, there’s been plenty of opportunities for that throughout the years. Also, Aphrodite is usually more interested in symbolism that she can somehow spin into romance stories. But Apollo knows the bitterness of watching your child fight in the Hunger Games and die when they deserve to live.

He doesn’t say anything, he just nods at her, and she leaves.

Apollo may not have understood before what his daughter saw in Gale Hawthorn, but he’s glad the boy is here now. He doesn’t waste time on sentiment, instead, he focuses on game strategy. He, like Prim, refuses to talk like Katniss' death certificate is already sealed. He urges her to fight to come back, reminding her of the useful skills she has.

“Katniss, it’s just hunting. You’re the best hunter I know.”

“It’s not just hunting. They’re armed. They think.”

“So do you. And you’ve had more practice. Real practice. You know how to kill.”

“Not people.”

“How different can it be, really?”

Katniss hesitates for a second, and before she can respond, their time is up. She manages to extract a promise from him not to let her family starve before they’re separated and Katniss is taken to the train station.

Apollo is left alone in the room. For a moment, he just stands there, feeling lost.

When he flashes back to the town square, he practically trips over Percy, who garbs his wrists in an attempt to steady himself. Apollo would have expected him to have moved on to the next district’s reaping by now. But he’s been waiting…

“How are you doing?” he asks Apollo.

“Awful,” Apollo whispers, because Percy is one of the few still living people he doesn’t need to put on a mask for. “I can’t help but feel like I’ve already failed her, again.” He failed her when he was made to stage his death when she was eleven, and he’s failing her now, by being unable to protect her from Zeus’ cruelty.

“The games aren’t your failing,” Percy whispers, his breath rigid.

Apollo doesn’t need a prophecy to know they’ll both seek each other out tonight. As long as he has a living kid in the arena, Apollo can’t afford to numb his mind with alcohol or Holy Moly either. They stand there, invisible to the mortals, clinging to each other for what feels like hours and half a second.

“She’s not dead yet,” Apollo whispers, knowing Percy will understand the underlying question.

Percy’s jaw clenches.

“No, she’s a girl from District 12, who already made herself stand out during the reaping… who do you…” Percy trails off.

Who do you think Snow will see?

The old man, son of Zeus, paranoid, narcissistic, and suffering from an extreme case of projection. Apollo knows who Coriolanus Snow will see when he looks at Katniss, and that won’t gain her any favorable odds.

“I have to leave now.” Percy looks down at their hands and, slowly, forces himself to let go.

Apollo does the same.

“Right… yes. I’ll see you at the Torch Lighting.”

Percy nods. Then he’s gone, the lingering scent of sea salt and coconut the only proof he was ever there. Having left for the reaping ceremony in the next district. Apollo wonders if he should follow, he really doesn’t want to be alone right now. But it wouldn’t do Percy any good to have someone else’s emotional baggage dumped on him when he already has so much of it himself.

The stage where the muses like to perform is decorated with laurel leaves and flames. The Olympic cauldron is placed at the centre for everyone in the amphitheatre to see, waiting for Hermes to deliver the torch.

Apollo sits at the front row reserved for the gods who have children in this year's Hunger Games. The place is slowly filling up with deities mingling about. It’s not exactly festive, though Dionysus always has gallons of drinks prepared for this time of the year, making poor Ganymede work overtime. And Zeus’ biggest supporters mostly play along with the narrative of a celebrated sacred ceremony, pretending that it really is the Olympics they’re continuing.

He offered Demeter a seat next to him when he spotted her. She’s openly crying now, which could have landed her in trouble if she wasn’t Demeter, with a reputation of being a vengeful mother. It was safer for everyone to let her cry. Apollo discreetly hands her one of his unused napkins.

Zeus and Hera stand up and take the stage to muted polite applause. Hermes runs through the crowd with the torch. The flame had been lit six months prior, right after last year’s victory tour. Hermes and Apollo, both patrons of athletes, would always take turns relaying the flame in mimic of the Olympic torch relay the mortals had come up with after they revived the Olympics in the 1890s. Apollo had loved it back then, but now he spent every torch relay dreading the games they were opening.

Hermes lights the cauldron, and while he goes to take his seat, Zeus opens with a speech about the Hunger Games. How they formed as a reminder to Panem’s districts of the horrors faced in times of war, and why the Dark Days must never be repeated, but now also continue in symbol of the peace established and is a token of the renaissance of our Hellenic pantheon. He does a good job of rebranding, Apollo will give him that. After this ceremony, when the other deities don't have to be reminded that many of the tributes are their friends’ children, they’ll treat it just the way the capitol citizens treat it. Like a sports event to celebrate, and betting on who wins. It’s easier than to face reality. This is what their pantheon has come to.

Hermes sits down on the free spot next to Apollo and Demeter, his jaw clenched. Apollo tentatively offers his hand and Hermes squeezes it tightly.

“And so, I leave the word to the one holding it all together. Perseus, our Divine Gamemaker!” Zeus announces once he’s done with the speech.

Percy walks up next to him, his stoic poker face hides any emotion, just like always. He hates the title, it isn’t really accurate, but not false either. This is his punishment, everyone knows, even though no one ever talks about it. All gods who sided with the rebels during the dark days faced repercussions, except Athena, who seems to never face consequences from her father. The games started to punish the districts for rebelling, and when Percy spoke out against it, citing all the ways he could name off his sleeve why such a concept was morally indefensible, all while still in shackles mind you, Zeus declared that if he was so worried for the outcome, he’d be in charge of overseeing it. After all, he was the patron of young heroes. Percy had tried to refuse, but the celestial bronze shackles around his wrists and ankles had reminded him of how helpless he was.

Ever since, Percy has tried to make the best of his situation. Trying to ensure the kids could keep as much of their dignity as possible, while Zeus was breathing down his neck. The propaganda around the games worked well enough in the capitol, but thanks to Percy, it couldn’t completely dehumanize the districts’ children.

Zeus places a hand on Percy’s shoulder, a gesture that’s supposed to appear warm but would make Apollo recoil. Percy starts introducing the districts and what they provide and their previous victors. Each presentation ends with a recap of the district’s reaping.

District 1 provides the capitol with luxury items, their tributes are both volunteers. A daughter of Aphrodite and a son of Mithras.

Apollo hadn’t known Mithras was still around. But there he is, a few seats away from him, looking at the screen with expectant eyes, like this is how his son is supposed to prove his worth. Aphrodite sits right next to Demeter. Apollo wonders if she regretted her support of Katniss once it became clear she’d have one of her own children in the arena.

District 2 provides masonry and military strength, also their tributes are volunteers. A daughter of Nemesis and a son of Ares who looks all too eager to spill some blood.

Apollo finds both Nemesis and Ares in their section. Nemesis’ expression is hard to read while Ares is practically glowing with pride. He’s always been the most vocal supporter of the Hunger Games, not because he wants to punish the districts, but because he enjoys a good fight to the death.

District 3 provides Panem with its technology, their girl is mortal while the boy is a son of Hephaestus.

Hephaestus looks uncomfortable, but it’s hard to differentiate from his regular uncomfortableness.

District 4 provides seafood. Both tributes are volunteers, a daughter of Kymopoleia and a mortal boy who doesn’t know what a disadvantage he really has.

Kymopoleia is sitting with her jaw clenched. She’s clearly not happy with her daughter volunteering, but the day she cries in public is probably the day the river Phlegethon freezes over.

District 5 is Panem’s power house. Their tributes are a redheaded daughter of Hermes and a mortal boy.

Hermes lets out a quiet sob and Apollo discreetly squeezes his hand.

District 6 oversees transportation systems. Their tributes are both mortal.

District 7 provides wood and paper. Their tributes are both mortal.

District 8 holds Panem’s textile industry. Their tributes are a daughter of Athena and a mortal boy.

Apollo doesn’t look at Athena.

District 9 provides grain. Their tributes are both mortal.

District 10 holds livestock. Their tributes are a mortal girl and a son of Eubouleus who has a crippled foot.

Yet another deity Apollo didn’t know was still around.

District 11 does agriculture. Their tributes are a small daughter of Demeter and a son of Enyo.

Demeter sobs into her napkin and Apollo looks at her with sorrow. It’s not the first time someone has more than one kid in the arena. The girl, Rue, reminds Apollo so much of his own twelve year old daughter, so small in size and light weight, but when they ask for volunteers only the whistling wind can be heard.

Then there’s District 12, the coal district. Apollo’s daughter is reaped again before his eyes, and his other daughter volunteers to take her place. Katniss isn’t like the other volunteers though. She’s not looking for glory, no delusions of grandeur. Her desperation speaks of only her thought of dying instead of her sister.

Apollo feels the eyes on him. Many gods claim to value family loyalty, but nobody has seen it being enough to do for anyone what Katniss is doing before all of Olympus now.

Then Haymitch falls off the stage and the laughter starts. Someone mockingly calls across the amphitheatre if Dionysus is really sure the guy isn’t his son.

“Positive!” Dionysus calls back. “Though, he certainly seems to wish he was!”

“The Reaping is not done yet.” Percy doesn’t yell, but his voice echoes through the amphitheatre, silencing everyone laughing, reprimanding of anyone mocking the victor.

Then Peeta is reaped and Demeter grabs Apollo’s free hand. Perhaps Katniss made an impression on her, maybe her protectiveness of Prim reminds Demeter of her protectiveness of Persephone.

The shots from when the tributes were transported to the train station plays and Apollo gets to see the pin Madge put on Katniss' dress. A mockingjay…

Apollo is taken back 74 years. He was sitting at the beach at what was the new eastern coast of the continent. It was soon after the Dark Days had ended. Percy was sitting next to him, gazing at the direction of where Long Island was now submerged under water. The shackles had left some ugly marks on Percy’s wrists and ankles that would probably leave some scars. He refused to let Apollo heal them, the ointment he’d eventually let him apply on them had been the compromise.

“I wanted to show you something,” Apollo almost whispered.

He held out his hands and let a little bird land in his palms. Percy looked at the bird, trying to decipher what was so special with it. Black and glossy crested, with white patches under the wings. Apollo let him watch it for a moment before he started to sing a soft melody.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

And when again they open, the sun will rise.

Here it’s safe, here it’s warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

For a moment, Percy just listened to Apollo’s song, leaning his head against his shoulder. But then the bird picked up the song and joined in, though not with words, but beautifully mimicking the melody. For one minute, Apollo sings the lullaby as a duet with the bird.

“You might remember the jabberjays created to spy on the rebels,” Apollo explains when the song ends. “They were released into the wild to die off… but I thought… maybe there was something they could still give to this world.” He let the bird jump over to Percy’s palm. “It’s a mockingjay. I crossbred the jabberjays with mockingbirds. They can’t repeat words, but they can memorize and mimic any birdsong and human voices. They can repeat entire songs with multiple verses if you have the patience to sing it for them.”

“They sound beautiful,” Percy murmured, enticed by the mockingjay.

“They’re yours,” Apollo whispered. “I thought of you when I made them. A small act of lasting rebellion. A symbol of not letting yourself be broken by tyranny.”

“I like that thought,” Percy mused. Apollo saw a glimmer in his eyes.

74 years later that moment is still the closest to a genuine smile Apollo has seen on Percy’s lips since the Dark Days. Seeing the mockingjay as a golden pin on his daughter’s dress, he has to lower his head so no one sees the stray tear on his face. Only Hermes notices and discreetly wipes it away.

Chapter Text

All 24 tributes’ faces are lined up on the screen with district number, names, and preliminary odds. The mortals’ names are written in red and the demigods’ are written in gold and followed by their godly parents’ names. Percy reminds everyone of the opening chariot parade the following evening and informs them that the final odds will be presented during the interviews, and the sponsoring will be opened right after. He accepts a crystal glass from Ganymede and makes a toast.

“For our tributes!”

Everyone cheers for this, the line holding a different meaning for each god. 

Apollo holds a mocktail in his hand as other gods come to punch him in the back, congratulate his daughter, mock her, joke about her odds, or otherwise mess with him. He walks through the mingling as if in a trance. Despite his better judgement, he finds himself seeking out his sister.

Artemis still has the appearance of a twelve year old girl, which hurts, because she looks a lot like Katniss did when she was twelve. It also makes the scandinavian vodka she’s holding look very misplaced. She raises her glass in greeting when he approaches. Apollo half heartedly raises his mocktail.

“How’s it going?” he asks her.

“It’s going well.” Artemis shrugs. “Have you tried this? Dionysus made an extra big badge.”

“He always does for this occasion,” Apollo points out, it comes out a bit sharper than he meant.

Artemis’ jaw clenches slightly.

“It still holds good quality.” 

As if to prove this, she takes a huge swig of the vodka. Apollo holds back his comment about how Dionysus never will be able to replicate actual scandinavian vodka. Just like North America, the European continent has been reshaped and the people remaining there have their own struggles, just like all continents. Australia managed to avoid most damage from manmade weapons, but climate change didn’t spare them. The place the Ancient Greeks once called Hyperborea, and was later referred to as Scandinavia still exists, though Denmark and southern Sweden has been submerged, but it’s mostly wild lands, with a few tribes of people. Authentic Scandinavian vodka is probably not a high priority among those people. Apollo does not hold any high hopes of getting to taste some to Helan Går any time soon.

“Your tribute is a strong woman,” Artemis tries after a few moments of silence. “I could see her being placed among the favorites.”

“A strong girl,” Apollo corrects, no longer able to hold back the sharpness. “She is still a child, sister. They’re all children, none of whom deserve this.”

Artemis’ gaze hardened.

“You need to be more careful, brother,” she hissed in a low voice. “Father is watching you like a hawk. Your daughter has a chanse to win. Do not sabotage that for her.”

“What do you care, Artemis? You seem perfectly fine with this, as my fellow protector of children.” Apollo glares at her.

“It’s better than the alternative, brother. You seem to be forgetting how it was during the Dark Days, what the Hunger Games is to remind us of.”

“I do remember it perfectly, I also remember the time right before, why the war started in the first place.” Apollo turns around to leave. “Never mind, sister. I will not waste my energy on this debate with you. Tell Thalia and Reyna I said hi.”

Apollo grits his teeth. It was a mistake to talk to Artemis about this. She has chosen to believe that the Hunger Games and the Capital’s fascist totalitarian rule is truly necessary for humanity to survive, it’s more comfortable for her. And it’s not like it really affects her, she has her hunters in the wild, even if the recruitment is essentially at zero. Apollo actually doubts the Hunters are even aware of what is happening in the districts of Panem.

The rest of the evening passes by in a blur. At some point he finds Percy, who’s speaking with his dad. He hesitates before approaching, looking at Percy leaning against Poseidon’s shoulder. At least Percy has his closest family member in his corner. Poseidon also stood on the side of the rebels, mostly supporting his son, but he also felt very strongly about Zeus’ new regime himself. Artemis and Apollo had been on opposing sides.

Poseidon spots him quickly and gives a nod, beckoning him to come closer. Apollo complies. He might not be as close with his favorite uncle as he was when they were building the walls of Troy, and Poseidon had introduced him to Urea, but they’d grown closer since the Dark Days and the aftermath. Aside from Percy, Poseidon is probably one of few these days whom Apollo feels somewhat comfortable talking with without having to watch his words too much.

“I am sorry about your girls, nephew,” Poseidon mumbles when Apollo comes closer, only loud enough for Percy and Apollo to hear. “They don’t deserve any of this.”

His girls, both Katniss and Prim, and perhaps even Astrid, because they’re all suffering right now. No one has bothered to mention until now, how Prim and Astrid are affected as well by Katniss being a tribute. Apollo nods in thanks and accepts the one armed hug from Poseidon.

“The girls have more honor in one finger than many here have in their whole being,” Percy grumbles while gulping down his drink. It’s non-alcoholic, just like Apollo’s, but you wouldn’t believe it from the way Percy holds on to it.

“Percy-” Apollo swallows. “She- she doesn’t deserve to die…”

“I know.” Percy looks haunted. “None of them does… But I can’t…”

“I know…” Apollo has to look away. “It’s… getting late, I think I shall head to bed.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Percy and Apollo end up accompanying each other as they leave the Torch Lighting ceremony. Without a word, Apollo walks into the living area of his temple with Percy’s hand in his own. They’re both looking for an escape tonight, and until this year’s games are over, Percy will practically live here.

Neither of them says anything as they entangle themselves under the sheets. Percy buries his nose in Apollo’s neck, quickly falling asleep. Apollo holds him tightly and cries into his hair until late at night.

When he wakes the next morning, Percy is staring up at the ceiling with vacant eyes. Apollo looks at him for a few moments before Percy notices he’s awake.

“Would you mind if I stayed for breakfast?”

“Please do.” Apollo nods.

They still stay in bed for a little longer, afraid they might find themselves alone if they take their eyes off of each other.

“Any idea what we might expect today?” Apollo eventually asks.

“I know all stylists working with the Games this year, but I haven’t looked at all the costumes.” Percy sighs and apparently decides he can’t hide in Apollo’s bed much longer and forces himself to sit up and head to the kitchen.

“What about my daughter’s stylist?” Apollo follows Percy, not bothering with the bathrobe. “The stylist Twelve had last year has retired now, right?”

“Yeah, but the new stylists seem promising.” Percy starts working the coffee machine. “Two demigods named Portia and Cinna. Portia is a child of Hephaestus and Cinna is Aphrodite’s son.”

“You think they’re good enough to bring coal miner jumpsuits into fashion?” Apollo attempts to joke.

“The only way I think that could ever happen is if you wore one.” Percy snorts, but then quickly looks away, cheeks just a little red.

Apollo doesn’t comment on that.

“As long as they actually make some clothes, I guess I’ll consider it a win.” 

There have been stylists that completely gave up with the jumpsuits and just covered the kids’ naked bodies in coal dust. But if Percy trusts the capability of these new stylists, Apollo decides he’ll trust them as well for now. Percy brews them both coffee and Apollo makes them french toast. They eat in silence, mentally counting down the minutes until the parade that evening.

Katniss would be with her prep team now, Apollo thinks, checking the time. He offers to help Percy oversee the parade preparations, which he accepts. 

The Capitol of Panem, in all its cosmetic beauty, is now the only metropolitan city on the continent. There was a time, when Panem was young, before the Dark Days, when Percy would stroll down its streets and remember his own metropolitan home. Now he only ever spends time in the Capitol when there is something related to the games. Apollo doesn’t spend much time here either. After the civil war, it holds too many bad memories. He was fighting other gods and saw his children die, on both sides. 

Dionysus frequents the city, though. Which becomes apparent when you look at the everything about the Capitol. The way they party and indulge in their excess luxury, gorging on too much food and drinks. They remind Apollo of the Dionysian Mysteries, except the tearing off limbs… though, the Hunger Games is actually worse, but Apollo tries not to blame the average citizens for those… but some of them are pretty deranged so who knows about the limb tearing.

“Does Aphrodite’s son have any idea that one of his sisters has volunteered from a different district?” Apollo decides to ask Percy as a way to clear his thoughts.

Percy looks up from his check list for the parade. He would frantically double and triple check that list all throughout the night until it was over. At the second Quarter Quell a tribute had died and several had been injured because of a mishap with the drunken audience and a firecracker setting off the horses. Incitatus Loomy had been dealt with by Zeus through the president, but Apollo suspects Percy wouldn’t have shown much mercy either. The following year, firecrackers and similar had been strictly forbidden and Percy now personally ensures all horses are properly trained and that too drunk people are denied entrance at the event.

“As far as I’m aware, Cinna is as ignorant of his true heritage as all other demigods are these days.” Percy puts his pencil behind his ear and sits down on the bleachers that in a few hours will be filled with capitol citizens indoctrinated into oblivious ignorance. “Why are you asking?”

“I don’t know…” Apollo sits down next to him. “Aphrodite came to visit my daughter.”

Percy doesn’t respond, aside from a slight rise of his eyebrows.

“Or… well, she accompanied her granddaughter when she visited her.”

“Merrilee’s daughter, Madge Undersee?”

“Yes,” Apollo nods in confirmation. “Madge and Katniss are friends, they know each other from school. She gave Katniss Maysilee’s mockingjay pin. It was before Aphrodite’s own daughter from District 1 volunteered. I’m not sure why I’m hung up on this… You don’t think she might decide to retaliate because she regrets showing support for my daughter?”

Percy bites his lip.

“Aphrodite isn’t to be messed with, we both know that… But I don’t think she’d punish Katniss because Glimmer volunteered for the games…” Percy sighs and cards his fingers through his hair. “Honestly, it’s probably a fool’s errand to try and figure Aphrodite out.” Percy stands up. “I think I’ll have a look at what the stylists have worked on for the parade.” 

Percy leaves before Apollo can say anything else. Apollo sighs. He shouldn’t have said anything. Percy has enough on his own plate this time of year, Apollo shouldn’t use him as an emotional crutch.

Apollo stays on the bleachers, disguising himself as an early arrived capitol citizen. When the crowd starts filling out the place, he’s handed a pamphlet with the evening’s program. The tributes will ride in chariots through the capitol in numeral order, meaning Katniss will arrive last. The procession starts at the Remake Center and ends at the City Circle in front of the president’s mansion. Apollo is sitting where he can see the opening to the Remake Center, where the chariots would roll out.

At some point he senses his brother’s presence next to him. Hermes has his wings on full display, both the pair on his head and his shoes, but here in the Capitol they actually blend in.

“You’ve seen Percy?” Hermes asks.

“He said he would have a look at the chariot costumes, but that was a couple hours ago.”

They look around only to spot Percy heading their way. His face is a bit blank as he sits down with them.

“Hi, Percy. How do the costumes hold up?” Hermes asks him.

“My daughter is wearing clothes, right?” Apollo asks.

“Yes… she is wearing clothes.”

Hermes and Apollo share a look. They know this expression. A mix of frustration and sheer bafflement. It’s that face Percy has sometimes when he’s realized he might have to add or rephrase some of the rules of how the tributes are handled so they specify something you’d really think shouldn’t need to be specified. He wore the same expression when he had to specify in the rules that the tributes needed to be properly housed and fed before they were let out in the arena, and when he had to ban live reptiles as accessories.

“What have the stylists done?” Apollo asks.

“Nothing I can do about it right now… We’ll just have to wait and see, I think.”

The chariots start to roll out and any conversation is drowned out by the crowd’s cheering. District 1 is dressed in silver costumes covered in jewels. They’re the usual favorites. Of course, it’s easy to make good looking costumes when the theme is luxury items. The other districts quickly follows the first. Hermes keeps an eye out for District 5. The power district is dressed up as turbines resembling those in a hydroelectric dam. Is that really the best idea District 5’s stylists can come up with? But it’s decent enough.

The districts roll by. Some adequate, some nice, Apollo is starting to wonder what Percy was so worried about. Some costumes sure seem elaborate, but not outlandish.

That is until the light catches Apollo’s eye.

It seems like the rules Percy will have to specify this time is; Don’t set your tributes on fire!  

Katniss and Peeta are dressed in pitch black unitards and bright burning mantles and headpieces leaving a trail of fire behind them. Apollo shrieks and jumps up from his seat.

“They’re burning her to a crisp!”

“Wait!” Hermes grabs Apollo’s wrists before he can do something stupid. “Look! They’re not burning. It’s just their clothes.”

Apollo looks at him like he has gone crazy, but Percy looks at Katniss and Peeta.

“Goodness, it actually worked…”

“What worked?” Apollo looks from Hermes to Percy.

“Portia and Cinna had worked on a synthetic fire that burns without being dangerous. I wasn’t sure it would actually work,” Percy explains.

“Burning coal.” Hermes watches District 12 in amazement. “How come no stylist has come up with that before?”

Apollo looks closer at his daughter. The synthetic fire lights up her face, but leaves no burns. She’s smiling at the cheering crowd, blowing kisses at them and catching their roses with her free hand. Apollo sits down again and watches in awe. Katniss and Peeta, in this moment, look every bit like the celebrated heroes they could have been, had they been born in another time. And Katniss is owning it, accepting all the praise as the true daughter of the god of light that she is, not unlike how he himself greets adoring crowds chanting his name.

It makes his eyes misty. It’s conflicting to witness this, his heart beaming with pride at his glorious daughter, but knowing it’s all in preparation for her slaughter. A hand sneaks into his own and braids their fingers together. Apollo looks at Percy, who squeezes his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Apollo whispers. “I didn’t mean to burden you further with my paranoid worries.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Percy looks out at the tributes passing by in their chariots. “I want you to talk to me… but these games…”

“I know.” Apollo squeezes his hand back. “They don’t look like offerings for slaughter here, they look like heroes.”

“Yes.” Percy bites his lip. “I actually took some inspiration from the gladiators in Rome. I thought it might stop the capitol citizens from seeing the district children as vermin, but it still feels dehumanizing.”

“It’s still better than the display at the zoo,” Apollo reminds him. “By celebrating the tributes, it makes it easier to advocate for better treatment.”

“Yeah.” Percy leans back in his seat and frowns at the parade. “At least they’re properly fed and trained now. They can maintain some form of dignity.”

The chariots reach the president’s mansion and Coriolanus Snow steps out on a balcony to hold the welcoming speech. Apollo stiffens. During the speech, the cameras zoom in on the faces of different tributes, but the darker it gets, the more they tend to linger on Katniss and Peeta, as the two pillars of light among them. He attempts to get a glimpse of Snow’s expression, trying to determine if he has noticed District 12’s attention, but the snake, as Apollo has viewed him for 64 years now, doesn’t show anything other than the carefully curated camera smile.

“He always has a tendency to get tunnel vision,” Percy tells him. “His paranoia knows no bounds. He’s noticed her.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s dead already,” Apollo argues. “Haymitch was marked by him from the start of his games, but the gamemakers couldn’t kill him.”

He regrets mentioning it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Percy’s face darkens, his mental walls all raising practically before Apollo’s eyes. That thug of war had basically ended in a stalemate between two demigods at the tip of the iceberg, and it always left a particularly bitter taste in Percy’s mouth whenever it was mentioned. The whole ordeal had reminded Apollo of something he’d told Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Chiron, and Meg McCaffrey so many years ago; The greatest threat to demigods has always been other demigods.

Back then, Apollo had talked about Triumvirate Holdings, but now, in this dystopian Rome 2.0, when he looks at Snow, the thought occurs to him. That threat goes both ways. Coriolanus Snow holds the other demigods in an iron grip, backed by his father Zeus, he is the politically strongest now living demigod. But he cannot eliminate the threat of other powerful demigods, with their own patrons. And on some subconscious level, Snow knows this. He has every reason to be paranoid beyond reason.

But the president’s paranoia is also a weakness. That is Coriolanus Snow’s fatal flaw. And if Apollo could find a way to exploit that, maybe he and his allies could put an end to the Hunger Games and the tyranny they represent one day.

Apollo is just about to share his thoughts with Percy when the anthem starts to play and the chariots parade around the circle one last time before they roll into the Training Centre. The camera crew make one last effort of catching shots of all the tributes but inevitably lingers too long on Katniss and Peeta. They have grown tired of smiling so long and are now sporting mostly neutral expressions but it has grown so dark by now that their visibility is more than enough for the final round before they disappear. The Tribute Parade went without a hitch.

Apollo looks back to the balcony, but Snow has already disappeared. He remembers why his daughter’s standing ovation is a double edged sword.

“I would like to oversee my daughter’s training these next three days,” Apollo shortly tells Percy.

Percy looks from the Training Centre to Apollo.

“Yeah, sure. You know the rules.”

Percy vanishes, which doesn’t really surprise Apollo that much. He will most certainly have a busy schedule these upcoming days.

“That might have been a bit below the belt, you know?” Hermes speaks up. “Mentioning Haymitch Abbernathy’s games… It’s not Percy’s fault your daughter is here. He didn’t ask to be the divine gamemaker. It’s a hard dilemma, but Percy is actually trying to help them…”

Apollo looks at his brother, he wonders if Hermes is perhaps venting mostly. He, too, must be tired of watching his children die in these games. Zeus and Hera can talk as much as they want about this being demigods’ glorious chance at honor and triumph, since the Hunger Games started 1 705 tributes have died, only 73 have survived, and they weren’t handed much honor. These 24 tributes are just a fresh batch of dead children and a traumatized victor to add to the numbers.

“It is not Percy I blame, brother,” Apollo whispers. “And I did not mean to upset him. I will apologize to him when I see him.” Apollo meets Hermes’ gaze. “You know, though it might be contradictory to my own hopes for the outcome, I do wish your daughter the very best…”

Hermes looks away, and for a moment, he looks vulnerable. Apollo comes to think of when Hermes was but a young godling, who despite his display of confidence in his own trickery, still held insecurities of how he could fit in with the other gods. Apollo isn’t sure what clued him in on those insecurities back then. Some flash of fear in the boy’s eyes when Zeus was about to declare his fate, some barely noticeable stutter when he bargained the price of the lyre, it didn’t matter. Apollo had decided he wouldn’t hold a grudge. While annoying, Hermes was his little brother, and part of him sympathized with the fear of having to find your place as a new god. 

To this day, Hermes remains one of the people Apollo loves the most, even if their relationship has been rocky at times. Slowly, as if not to frighten him, Apollo reaches out and pulls Hermes into his arms. His brother tenses up for a moment, but returns the hug. He lets his head rest on Apollo’s shoulder. They hold each other tightly while the mortals around them clear out the area.

In a study mostly empty, the old man leans tiredly against his office table. He knows he is not alone before the young man greets him.

So you’ve seen your new tributes with your own eyes now?

Coriolanus doesn’t look up. He knows who is standing before him, in spite of all the security the mansion has to offer. His companion doesn’t bother to whisper, no one but Coriolanus will hear him. Just like they won’t see anyone but the president if they look at the room's security cameras.

So young, some of them… It’s hard to imagine most of them will be dead in about a month, don’t you think? Though, perhaps that is just another mundane part of your life now…

Now Coriolanus looks up. The young man watches him with otherworldly sea green eyes, still appearing young after all these decades. Leaning against the wall, silhouette almost blurry, his visitor smiles at him. Coriolanus attempts to conceal any reaction to the condescending gesture. The knowing glint in the eyes tells him it doesn’t work.

Have you heard the story of the great King Minos?

The visitor glances out the window, seemingly remembering times long since passed. Coriolanus remains silent, his breathing becomes slightly more visible each second he looks at the intruder.

No, I don’t expect you have. But you two are alike. You might very well have been brothers…

The visitor looks back at Coriolanus. 

Are we not in a talkative mode today, young Coriolanus? You know, King Minos would also look out at his tributes from the sanctity of his home.

The man strolls through the room like he owns the place. He leans over the table and studies Coriolanus' face.

I do wonder sometimes, when I see you on that balcony; “Is it his Theseus he’s looking for?”

In the next moment, the visitor is gone and Coriolanus is pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s the poison, and the antidotes, he thinks. He is believing himself less each time.

Chapter Text

Apollo decides to monitor his daughter’s training right from the start. The tributes all eat dinner on their own floors with their escorts, mentors, and stylists. It means dinner is essentially unofficial strategy meetings when they regroup and, based on the previous successes and setbacks, plan their next move. 

Apollo observed how the avoxes prepare for the dinner after he’d resisted facepalming at Effie Trinket’s quote about coal and pearls. Apollo has always hated avoxes, or, not the avoxes themselves, but the practice. Cutting out the tongue, silencing them forever. As god of music and poetry, he cannot fathom a fate more cruel. His eyes get watery as he watches the silent slaves serve the dinner party throughout the night, if anything important is discussed he doesn’t hear it.

Only when dessert comes around and a red headed avox lights a cake on fire is he forced to tune in what is actually said. Because Katniss recognizes the red headed avox. Apollo almost audibly gasped once he recognized her too.

Lavinia wasn’t that much older than Katniss. She hadn’t even been a threat, but she’d become a target after one comment made at the wrong place, and then Apollo had aided in her attempt to flee.

Apollo doesn’t trust himself to stay any longer. He vanishes and reappears in his own bedroom. It’s too late anyway. He slumps down on his bed and buries his face in his hands. He hadn’t even noticed her until Katniss acknowledged her… 

That’s when Percy returns. Apollo looks up from his hands.

“Hi… where have you been?”

Percy smiles. Not the carefree trickster smile Apollo would associate with him a century ago, just bitter, with no real happiness behind it.

“Practicing my psychological warfare,” he says sarcastically. Then his face melts into a more serious one. “What’s happened?”

Apollo realizes he’s been crying and quickly wipes the tears away.

“Lavinia has been moved to work at the Training Center, the girl I tried to help a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t need to explain things further. Percy remembers Lavinia and her brother. Apollo had helped them run when the regime had targeted Lavinia, he’d gotten them all the way to the forests outside District 12. But that’s where Artemis had caught onto him, and after her, the hovercraft had caught Lavinia and killed her brother.

“I’m only doing what is best for everyone, brother,” Artemis had later told him when Lavinia’s fate was sealed. “If we let rebels run loose, they could kickstart another civil war. We cannot afford that.”

“They were teenagers, Artemis,” Apollo had tried to argue.

“Yes, and it’s a tragedy that rebelling forces manage to stoop so low as to recruit children, but it doesn’t change what needs to be done. They are old enough that they should have known better.”

Artemis still isn’t welcome anymore in Apollo’s residence.

Percy grasps his hand and squeezes it. Apollo sniffs and flings himself at him, tackling the other god to the mattress so he can cry into his chest.

“I didn’t even notice her, Percy,” Apollo whispers between his sobs.

“But you didn’t know her for long either.”

“I failed her! I tried to save her and they cut out her tongue!”

Percy doesn’t have a response to that. He plays mindlessly with Apollo’s hair for five minutes before he has cried it out. Then Apollo sits up and wipes away his stray tears.

“I’m sorry about that,” Apollo grumbles. “I guess this is all getting to me more than I thought.”

“It has been getting to you for years,” Percy mumbles. “It’s getting to me too.”

“I know.” Apollo sniffles. “Just another life we can’t help. What about the training? Will everything go according to plan?”

“Yes, the tributes will start training after breakfast tomorrow.”

“Right, I’ll be keeping an eye on Katniss, and perhaps I can-”

Percy grabs Apollo’s arm to pull him on top of him before Apollo gets to finish. He hurriedly locks their lips and tangles his fingers in Apollo’s blond hair. Apollo loses his train of thought completely and wills away their clothes.

“I don’t want to think about those games. Stop talking. Just make my thoughts shut up!” Percy groans.

“Of course,” Apollo groans right back. “No games! There are no games in here! Lay still now!”

The next morning, Katniss and Peeta are the last ones to arrive at the gymnasium. The room is filled with training equipment and obstacle courses, some of which look like they might come straight from Camp Half Blood or New Rome. Though Apollo doubts that even Chiron would have been able to make this training seem like a noble cause. Training child soldiers so they might not die by monsters is one thing, training cattle for slaughter is another.

Some of the other gods with tributes this year are also here, along with Percy, who is overseeing the training program. Ares’ daughter Atala instructs the tributes of how the training will work. Although thirteen of the tributes are demigods, only the volunteers from Districts 1, 2, and 4 actually look like you’d imagine heroes of old.

They’re widely known as the Career Tributes. They often train their whole lives to volunteer for the games, which is technically against the rules, but it’s the kind of attitude Zeus seems to enjoy. They have completely swallowed the Capitol’s propaganda about the games, that’s why they volunteer.

Apollo tries not to be too harsh on them. They are at the end of the day, just more pawns in the regime’s game. Throughout the years, many of them have reminded him of Meg’s stepsiblings from Nero’s court; brainwashed to be dangerous through gaslighting, lovebombing, and ultimately fear. Apollo tries to remember that when each year, he sees them band together and literally hunt other demigods for sport. Yes, the point of the Hunger Games is to kill each other until only one of them survives, but the Careers chose to be in the situation, and more often than not, they liked it. But Percy tries to watch out for the Careers just as much as he tries to watch out for the other demigods in the arena, he had even had some children of his own in District 4.

Peeta and Katniss stick together during the training. Apollo can see that Katniss sometimes glances toward the archery range but never approaches it. It must be part of Haymitch’s strategy to stick together, but not reveal their strength to the other tributes. Peeta doesn’t approach the weights either, even though he most certainly has the build for it. They have a conversation about cake and frosting at the camouflage station, and Apollo spots Demeter with a conflicted facial expression.

“Not much for cereal, that kid, is he?” Apollo tries to joke, but regrets it instantly. All jokes made in here taste bitter in his mouth.

The Gamemakers observe all tributes while taking notes from their stands. Percy observes them just as much as the tributes. He’s told Apollo once that it’s hard to ensure the Gamemakers don’t just disregard the tributes who don't come from the more glamorous districts. They consult with the trainers during the meals, and Apollo sees Ares approach Percy with his opinion on the training. Judging from Percy’s face, it’s less about the overall training and more about bragging about the male tribute from District 2. But that’s always the case, Ares brags about his favourite, whether he has a tribute of his own or not. Percy always looks extra nasty at him when he has a tribute of his own but picks another one as favourite.

The other gods focus mostly on their own tribute. They aren’t allowed to interfere with the training, only observe, and then go to Percy if they’re displeased. Only Percy has any actual say in the training.

Katniss and Peeta have clearly been instructed to stick together, and probably to pretend to be good friends. That’s the only explanation Apollo can come up with for why their conversations are so stiff. They clearly try to appear like they’re friends, but they have a hard time finding stuff to converse about. Peeta’s topic about district bread only lasts for about a minute.

Apollo has seen Percy munch on the fish shaped bread from 4, it’s his favourite.

Katniss did a good job retelling the story of how she almost gave Apollo a heart attack by challenging a black bear over the rights to a beehive. Peeta jumps to ask questions and laughs throughout the story. Had they not been thrown into these games together, Apollo thinks they might have been good friends.

Demeter follows the pair along with Apollo. At first he attempts to talk to her, but anything he says seems to hit a sore spot so he eventually gives up. He is about to ask her if she shouldn’t look after her daughter when Peeta points out a shadow. It seems like Rue has been following Katniss and Peeta throughout the training.

That’s practical for Demeter, as she can monitor both her children at the same time. Maybe the girl knows to seek out her brother on some subconscious level. Apollo can’t see Rue’s district partner keeping as close.

Apollo looks at Rue, trying to see if she holds any resemblance to her sister Meg. They both appeared younger than they were, and something in Rue’s expression tells him that she is not just going to go down without fighting. Apollo remembers the first time he met Meg McCaffrey, how he’d felt torn between wanting to clean her up and give her a warm meal, and fend her off with a chair. These two sisters would never actually get to meet each other.

“I need to go,” Apollo says and promptly leaves.

He appears in the forests outside District 12. He doesn’t know why he’s there, he just needs air. Apollo can’t bear the reminder of Meg in the face of her little sister, who most certainly won’t live to see her thirteenth birthday. His steps leads him to the lake, where he’d taken Katniss fishing, and teach how to swim, and before that, the Covey came here all the time, and even further back, he and Percy came here to get away from all the bureaucracy and politics and relatives on Olympus. Before the Dark Days, they had spawned ideas about how they could build a new Camp Half Blood around this lake. Those ideas had pretty much died down now.

Apollo sits down on a rock with his calves in the water. A naiad spots him but leaves him be, probably seeing in his face that he needs to be alone. Water nymphs are usually nice to him, before Panem’s civil war, they most likely assumed he was their ruler’s son in law to be. Apollo can’t see that happening anytime soon now.

He looks up when he hears quiet footsteps close by. Apollo makes himself invisible. Prim steps out from the trees. Her delicate frame would make her easily mistaken for a wood nymph. She looks around before taking out her fishing rod, the one Apollo made for her when she was five. She barely gets to use it, since she rarely ever goes outside the fence. Though now, without Katniss, Prim most likely has decided to supplement her cheese business with fish. Apollo watches her throw out the line. She manages to catch one fish. He can’t see what kind from where he sits. After that, she makes due with berries, katniss plants and other plants she could gather.

Apollo stands up to follow her back home. Prim repeatedly adjusts her grip on her bag as she walks. He wishes he could relieve her of the heavy load. She is singing the song of the meadow under her breath on her way and Apollo hears the mockingjays picking up the melody. Prim hears them and sings a little louder. When she turns around for a second to watch one of the birds, Apollo nearly cries at the sight of his daughter’s wet eyes.

On the third day of Katniss’ training Apollo oversleeps. Percy has already left and the other side of the bed is cold.

They have already started calling out for the tributes’ private sessions, where the gamemakers make one final assessment of their chances of winning. Apollo appears just as Rue is called in. Peeta and Katniss discuss very stiffly what they are to show the gamemakers. It looks so awkward Apollo wonders if something happened while he had overslept.

When Katniss is called in roughly fifteen minutes after Peeta, Apollo follows and watches as his daughter stands before the gamemakers. Percy sits among them, notebook in hand, but he is the only one showing Katniss any interest. The others have grown bored by now. Apollo meets Percy’s gaze. He clearly feels the disinterest from his gamemakers and struggles not to pull out his own hair.

Katniss looks pretty buffed, but she holds her head up high, still, and walks over to the archery range. Already when she picks out a bow, Apollo feels alarm bells go off. He’d handcrafted archery bows for his girls before he had to leave, tailored to fit them perfectly as they grew older. These bows aren’t made with a specific person in mind and none of them probably has the same length or draw weight as the bow Katniss is used to. She doesn’t even shoot a test arrow on the range but walks straight toward the middle of the gymnasium. Only when she’s already drawing back the string does she seem to realize how unfamiliar she really is with the new equipment.

She misses the dummy she was aiming for.

Percy looks at him. His surprise and confusion written all over his face, then he turns to the gamemakers. Even if they were already disinterested in Katniss, they have now lost any interest there might have been.

Katniss drops her mask for only a fraction of a second before she walks back to the archery range. She shoots three arrows to familiarize herself with the bow and heads right back to the middle of the room. This time the arrow pierces through the dummy’s heart. The next sewers the rope that holds a sandbag for boxing. Katniss shoulder-rolls forward and on one knee, she shoots her third arrow at one of the hanging lights, which sends sparks flying.

Apollo lets out a gasp of relief. Her initial miss would surely be forgotten in favour of this perfect round.

But when Apollo turns to watch the gamemakers reaction, only a few are watching. The rest of them have found much greater interest in a newly arrived roast pig proudly displayed on their banquet table. The pencil Percy was using to take notes with has snapped in his clenched fist. He is just as furious as Apollo. They shouldn’t even be allowed a banquet. They only have it because important people think they’re entitled to better treatment than the tributes. They don’t care that children’s lives are in their hands, because who cares about the vermin from the districts?! Apollo’s daughter is literally deemed less worthy than a dead pig. His fingers are burning to send a giant ball of fire their way, burning their precious pig to ashes.

But before he can do that, an arrow hits the apple in the pig’s mouth and nails it to the wall. Panic ensures, feet stumbling to get away and tripping over each other. One of the gamemakers trips and lands in the punch.

Apollo turns back just as Katniss lowers the bow.

“Thank you for your consideration.”

She gives a mock bow, turns around and leaves without another word.

It’s dead silent for a moment. Then Apollo hears a snort. He turns and sees the malicious bitter grin on Percy’s lips. Their eyes meet for a second and Percy gestures quickly for him to step outside. Apollo leaves the gymnasium and meets with Percy outside. His satisfaction suddenly giving way to dread. The part of Percy’s conscience that’s still in the gymnasium with the terrified gamemakers is now overseeing the process of scoring all tributes’ performances. There is no telling how this will affect Katniss' score, or what other repercussions could come from this. And if it was his anger that somehow had affected Katniss-

“Well, that was certainly satisfactory to watch.”

Percy still has that malicious grin on his face. Apollo clears his throat.

“Look, I didn’t mean to interfere in any way. I was just angry at how they dismissed her like that. I don’t even know if-”

“What do you mean? Katniss fired the arrow herself. I saw it myself, Apollo.” Percy looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

Apollo closes his mouth and nods. He gets the drill. Katniss acted on her own initiative. Parents aren’t allowed to interfere during the private sessions, and Apollo doesn’t even know if he had interfered or not, so he would stick to Katniss acting on her own, unaffected by any possible influence from her father’s anger. Not that anyone would ever know anything about it in the first place.

“Do you think she will get in trouble for this?” Apollo instead asks.

Percy just shrugs.

“We’ll just have to see, I guess. But they certainly deserved it.”

It’s almost odd to hear Percy talk like that about the gamemakers, considering most gods view them as some equivalent of modern day priests of Percy’s. Had Apollo actually thrown a ball of fire at the gamemakers, it would have been perceived as a slight against Percy himself and everyone would expect some form of retaliation, most likely against Apollo’s tribute, otherwise Percy would risk losing face, and thereby much important influence on Olympus. It would have made the situation worse for everyone involved. 

“I suppose I have to see what happens when they announce the scores?”

Percy nods.

Apollo arrives early at the amphitheatre. The announcement of the tributes’ scores doesn’t have a live audience, so he doesn’t have the excuse of watching it live like the parade or the interviews. All eyes will be on him, and the other gods with tributes, sitting on the front rows. As the other gods triple in, Apollo tries to read their faces, in case anyone might give away how well their kids fared, even though it’s forbidden to talk about exactly what happened in the private sessions. Their expressions are mostly neutral though, except Ares, who is looking extra smug. The war god has already been telling everyone his son is this year’s victor, but Apollo heard someone say earlier that Ares hadn't even bothered watching his son’s private session. 

This time nobody bothers with some fancy speeches, thank goodness. Percy simply announces that the training days are finished and the gamemakers have set their scores. He presents each tribute by their district number, full names, and eventual godly parents. Then the screen behind him light up with a picture of the tributes with their scores below them. Some of the gods stand up to accept applause when their children are presented. Ares pumps his fist to the audience when his son scores a ten. The Career tributes always score between eight and ten, at this point it’s really not that impressive, yet Ares is now insisting that his Cato scored best of all tributes.

Except for careers, the average score is approximately a five. Rue surprises with a seven, which is an impressive score for someone her size, you should never underestimate a demigod. Peeta scores an eight, on par with careers. Then Katniss is presented. Apollo bites his lip. An eleven flashes under her picture. His breath hitches. There is a moment of stunned silence before enormous applause and cheering breaks out. Someone slaps him on the back and congratulates him on his daughter’s performance. Yet another god calls out to Ares that it seems like his son wasn’t the best performer after all.

Apollo seeks Percy’s gaze but he has already stepped down from the stage. He instead finds him during the afterparty.

“How did that happen?” he asks without a greeting.

Percy takes a long sip of his mocktail before replying.

“I didn’t do much. I just ensured they didn’t decide she deserved to be punished. The gamemakers instead seemed to like her attitude. They’re hoping it’ll make for good tv.” Percy practically sneers out the last part.

Apollo nods. He’s not sure how to feel about Katniss' score. On one hand, it’s good to attract sponsors. But it also attracts Snow’s attention, and Apollo doesn’t want him to have even more points to draw parallels to project onto.

Coriolanus watches the screen in silence. He tries to ignore the figure sitting at the other end of the couch.

It’s an interesting scale used to rate them, don’t you think?

Coriolanus refuses to meet the glowing eyes boring into his skull.

One to twelve. Who, aside from watchmakers, would think that makes sense? Did your minions get stuck on the number twelve because it’s twelve districts competing in your little games?

He stands up to leave the room when the screen goes dark, but the ghostly being strolls after him. He almost jolts when a silk napkin dabs the corner of his lips.

You should really watch what you eat, Coriolanus. One might worry their president might be outlived by those tributes one day. And we wouldn’t want that. A game starting and President Snow dies before the last tribute. Almost like he was also a human.

No words. Keep quiet. Don’t give this entity the satisfaction.

Still got nothing to say today, young man? I wonder how long you can keep up this act of ignorance.

The visitor leans in and Coriolanus can feel its breath against his ear.

Worry not, Coriolanus. I haven’t forgotten my promise to you.

His head whips around and his eyes catch the malevolent grin on the visitor’s lips before it vanishes, leaving Coriolanus alone with only a napkin with a tiny bloodstain on the hallstand. It’s just an illusion, just the result of poison and imperfect antidotes.

Chapter Text

Up next are the interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Another Capitol citizen that you kind of assume means well, but has clearly swallowed every piece of propaganda ever served. Apollo suspects not even Percy is really sure what to make of Flickerman, but the man usually does his job well. 

The day after the scores are announced is dedicated to preparation for those interviews. Some gods probably sit in on that training as well, but Apollo has long since reached the conclusion that those training sessions might as well remain private. The previous training was for practical skills in the arena, this is all about optics. And how the tributes decide what angle they will use can become a rather personal matter.

Percy is gone all day. The games have, as per usual, turned him into a workaholic. Meaning, Apollo has to kill his time on his own. He finds himself wandering around the streets of Olympus, expertly avoiding eye contact with anyone else. At some point, the autopilot buys him some ambrosia nachos that he ends up throwing away after one bite. Money well spent.

Some gods approach him throughout the day to tease or congratulate his daughter’s score point, but Apollo does his best to ignore them, at best giving them a short nod and moving on. He eventually gives up and goes to isolation in his own temple. This is just not a good time of year for socialization…

At some point in the evening, Percy practically crashes through the door and marches straight to Apollo’s bedroom. Apollo hears a distinct “flop” when Percy faceplants on the pillows. That must be his cue to stop staring holes into the wall, they’re starting to smoke anyway…

He forces himself up from the couch and follows Percy’s example by flopping down on top of him. Neither of them talk. There was a time when they would laugh and talk in bed, sometimes for hours, with their bodies pressed tightly together. But few conversations Apollo and Percy had now didn’t somehow circle back to the fascist regime, and when that is exactly what you’re trying to distract yourself from, not speaking might be for the best. No thinking, just feeling.

The next evening, the Capitol is buzzing with excitement. A stage has been constructed in front of the Training Center for Flickerman’s interviews. Apollo and the other godly parents get reserved seats on the main platform right behind the stylists. Apollo wonders, as he sits down, if Percy didn’t think that might be a risky move. If someone doesn’t find their kid’s outfit for the night good enough, the responsible stylist is now an easy target for quick incineration. Not that that has been a problem since Magno Stift, but still. Apollo looks for Percy’s face among the Gamemakers on their balcony and finds he’s already sporting his poker face.

When Caesar Flickerman bounces up on stage, Apollo happily notes that the man ditched the crimson red color theme from last year that had Apollo’s fingers itching for a first aid kit to throw at the guy. He doesn’t look beautiful or handsome, just artificial, has for four decades, since he started hosting. But capitol citizens never realize how bizarre their body modifications look anywhere outside the Capitol. But as a son of Dionysus, Flickerman knows how to entertain a crowd, which is good, because many of the tributes had never stood on a stage before their reaping.

Aphrodite’s daughter is up first. The girl parades her see through gold gown. Apollo hears Aphrodite gush over how gorgeous her daughter is. He quietly wonders how the stylist forgot that it’s a child he was dressing in a sheer outfit. Apollo again remembers that previous stylist that didn’t even give the tributes from 12 any clothes, just coal dust. How he doesn’t envy Percy’s job. The Capitol really doesn’t see these kids as human.

Apollo spots his own daughter at the end of the line of tributes on the stage, her dress very much not see through, thank Cinna. She is discreetly trying to wipe off her palms on her dress but the material doesn’t seem to be absorbent enough. She’s nervous. Apollo has a good idea why. The interview is where the people get to know you, if they like you, it could get you good sponsor deals. You don’t even have to be likeable, as long as you don’t come off as bland. The important thing is that they remember you.

Apollo knows that his daughter is not that social. She’s awkward. She’s probably at great risk of being forgotten among the other interviews.

The interviews pass by in a blur. Flickerman interviews each tribute for three minutes. He is doing his job well enough, helping shy tributes be at ease and making mediocre responses seem memorable. Apollo remembers how angry Percy was after the interviews of the second Quarter Quell, where Flickerman put the Careers at a huge disadvantage by making them look stupid. Considering Percy had a daughter among the Careers that year, it probably stung extra hard.

When the night is nearing its and it’s District 11’s turn, Apollo lets out a sob when he sees Rue walk up to Ceasar. She wears a light green gossamer gown complete with wings on her back. She’s resembling a dryad in Apollo’s eyes. He is brought back to when he was turned into a human for the third time. When he stood in the Jacksons’ apartment, looking at another daughter of Demeter who just got a glow up…

Apollo sneaked another napkin over to Demeter.

For a moment, Apollo wishes that this little girl would, through some miracle, win this. Then his eyes land on Katniss, who is looking at Rue, like everyone else. Both of the girls can’t live. When Flickerman asks what Rue’s greatest strength is, Apollo finds it hard to keep his dinner down.

“I’m very hard to catch. And if they can’t catch me, they can’t kill me. So don’t count me out.”

Apollo doesn’t want to imagine the lifeless body of Meg’s little sister, with a ruthless Career looming over her covered in blood. Too late.

Demeter braids their fingers together and squeezes his hand in an oddly motherly gesture when it’s Katniss’ turn to take the stage.

She barely seems to notice the amazement of the crowd when she moves in her dress. It looks like she’s walking through fire, but when she stops next to Flickerman to shake his hand, you can see that it’s not fire. The dress is covered in jewels that perfectly reflects the light to create the illusion of fire when the fabric moves.

“Oh, she looks like a true goddess,” Demeter breathes next to Apollo.

Cinna, who’s sitting right in front of Apollo, must’ve heard her, because on the big screens, the genius stylist’s lips quirk when he gives a nod to the camera.

Caesar Flickerman starts the interview and Katniss manages to answer the questions. Flickerman makes a joke about buckets of lamb stew. When she’s asked about her costume at the opening ceremony, Apollo thinks for a moment that Katniss has spotted him. But it’s not him, it’s Cinna she’s looking at, and talks to when she answers.

“You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?”

You and me both, girl, you and me both. Then Katniss compliments Cinna and his work with both her costume and her dress. Seemingly on cue, she starts twirling to show off her flaming dress. In another time, Apollo imagines Katniss would have been right at home on stage of the Eurovision Song Contest. If she were to sing her heart out to the crowd, she’d have them all eat out of her hand. He knows she’s inherited his musical talent, and she used to sing all the time back in the day, before he left her…

Then, Katniss has to stop her twirling before she trips. Flickerman wraps an arm around her, joking that she can’t follow in her mentor’s footsteps. People laugh when the cameras find Haymitch in the crowd. Gods watching on Hephaestus TV are probably once again making their jokes about how the victor of the second Quarter Quell must have some relation to Dionysus, no matter how old that has gotten by now.

When the laughter dies down, Flickerman steers the conversation to the training score.

“E-le-ven. Give us a hint what happened in there.”

Katniss glances at the Gamemakers’ balcony.

“Um… All I can say, is I think it was a first.”

For one moment, Apollo sees a crack in Percy’s stoic facade. He who has seen all tributes’ private sessions since they started, he’d know how true that statement is. And also that the Gamemakers have deserved it since the games first started.

“You’re killing us,” Flickerman moans. “Details. Details.”

But Katniss just looks at the Gamemakers.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it, right?”

“She’s not!” one of them respond.

“Thank you! Sorry. My lips are sealed.”

And that’s when Flickerman asks about Primrose.

“Can you tell us about her?”

Apollo can. Primrose Everdeen is possibly the kindest soul he has ever had the honor to call his child. Prim is dedicated to her family and to help others. She has healing running in her blood. She has worked miracles alongside her mother to help people, and even some animals. Prim has already picked up the mantle as the main provider of the family because she knows that IF her sister dies, she and their mother have to live, so Katniss’ sacrifice wasn’t in vain. She is named after a rose, but her favourite flower is buttercup, after which she named her cat. She still cleans the mirror at home because she remembers that her father hated the coal dust gathering everywhere. She has perfected her cheese recipe all on her own and sells it at the hub. This world does not deserve Primrose Everdeen.

Apollo does not deserve Primrose Everdeen…

Katniss doesn’t give them Prim.

“Her name’s Prim. She’s just twelve. And I love her more than anything.”

The whole City Circle goes quiet.

“What did she say to you? After the reaping?”

Apollo feels his rage flare up. Because Caesar Flickerman has no right. The Capitol, and Olympus, has no right to that. That conversation is possibly the last one Katniss will ever have with her family, and nobody has the right to know what was said in that moment!

Demeter squeezes his hand again and Apollo forces himself to calm down. The stylists in front of him shift uncomfortably in their seats at the sudden heatwave.

“She asked me to try really hard to win.”

“And what did you say?”

No right…

“I swore I would.” 

“I bet you did.” Then, to Apollo’s great relief, the buzzer goes off. “Sorry we’re out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve.”

Katniss gets to sit down again. Apollo sees her looking in his direction, knowing it’s Cinna’s support she’s looking for. Unknowing of the fact that her own father sits right behind her stylist, trying to keep himself together.

Apollo tries to pay attention to Peeta’s interview as well. Demeter supported him through Katniss’ interview, it’s only right he tries to do the same for her should she need it. But Peeta’s interview goes well. He clearly knows how to work the crowd, and with Flickerman’s help, they’re owning them. He compares the other tributes to bread, and jokes about the showers in the Capitol with their too many buttons.

Then the subject goes to Peeta’s love life. Another subject which in Apollo’s opinion, Flickerman and the Capitol has no right to ask about. Apparently, Peeta doesn’t want to share any of it either, as he unconvincingly shakes his head.

But Flickerman pushes.

“Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what’s her name?”

Peeta gives in.

“Well, there is this one girl. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was alive until the reaping.”

Gods… Apollo has to hide his face in his hands. He knows the feeling of unrequired love all too well, for all that he is supposedly the ideal male beauty. From Daphne, to Marpessa, to Coronis, to Cassandra, the Cumaean Sibyl, and lately… perhaps Percy… Or… Apollo isn’t sure what Percy’s feelings are. Before the Dark Days, he was sure he had found his one true love in Percy. He was ready to renounce his vow to never marry for Percy… But then the Dark Days happened… whatever they had… Perhaps neither of them were in any position to commit… Apollo had never stopped loving Percy, it was just… too much tragedy that happened…

And this girl… Apollo hopes Peeta isn’t about to tell the whole country her name. She’d have to live with that for the rest of her life, knowing she caused someone pain simply by not noticing said someone. That’s not her fault, which she would hopefully understand, but that’s the kind of thing that still stings anyway.

But it doesn’t seem like Peeta is going to reveal her name. He keeps it simple, and more importantly, vague.

“She had another fellow?”

“I don’t know, but a lot of boys like her.”

Good work, Peeta, Apollo thinks to himself, spare the poor girl the pain. He seems to be a decent kid. Any girl would probably be lucky to have captured his heart if it wasn’t for the reaping. In that way it’s a bit sad that the girl will probably never know it’s her Peeta is talking about.

“So, here’s what you do,” Flickerman tells Peeta like he’s some love guru. “You win, you go home. She can’t turn you down then, eh?”

Demeter is silently crying beside Apollo and he hands her yet another napkin. Soon he might not have enough of them for himself.

“I don’t think it’s going to work out. Winning… won’t help in my case,” Peeta says.

“Why ever not?” Flickerman asks and Apollo furrows his eyebrows, wondering the same thing.

Peeta isn’t saying he can’t win, he’s saying winning won’t help.

“Because… because… she came here with me.”

Apollo’s mind goes blank for a moment, before it sinks in.

He’s talking about Katniss.

Apollo looks at the screen that is now showing his daughter’s mix of confusion, surprise, and protest. She catches herself with her mouth half open and tries to compose herself and turn her face down, but Apollo can still see how her face gets redder.

“Oh, that’s a piece of bad luck,” Flickerman says and now Apollo really wanna strangle him so he’ll leave the kids alone.

“It’s not good.”

“Well, I don’t think any of us can blame you. It’d be hard not to fall for that young lady. She didn’t know?”

How would she have known, Apollo wonders. They never exchanged a word. And even if they had, Katniss’ obliviousness about stuff like this could quite possibly rival Percy’s.

“Not until now.”

“Wouldn’t you love to pull her back out here and get a response?” Flickerman asks the crowd. Wouldn’t you love an arrow of pestilence in your throat, Apollo thinks to himself. “Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen’s time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours.” But apparently not enough to speak out against this whole concept.

The crowd roars. And Apollo can easily distinguish Aphrodite’s shout among it. Apollo doesn’t quite understand that goddess. She generally seems to find the Hunger Games rather tasteless at best, but with this new twist, she’s suddenly very invested. Though, Aphrodite has always had a thing for tragic love, so perhaps this is on brand. 

When the noise finally dies down, Peeta chokes out a quiet “Thank you,” and returns to his seat. The kid has basically erased all the other tributes’ attempts at being remembered now. His declaration will be the only thing that’s talked about during these games. Well, not entirely. Peeta erased all other tributes except Katniss, as the object of his affection. Her admittedly mediocre interview will now be viewed in a completely different light in retrospect thanks to Peeta. Apollo wonders what that will mean for the odds that have now been made public, both the odds for the mortals’ betting, and the gods’ odds, for their own betting, that Apollo hasn’t seen yet, as they’re only shown on Hephaestus TV’s broadcast.

After the anthem, people file out after the tributes have filed back into the Training Center. Demeter and a few other godly parents have discreetly vanished. Apollo follows the crowd onto the adjacent streets, where festivities are held in the tributes’ “honor”. He doesn’t pay much mind exactly where the crowd is going, the last part of Peeta Mellark’s interview is playing on repeat in his head.

Was he aware of what effect his declaration is going to have on the audience now? Could it even have been planned? From the conversations around him, Apollo knows Peeta has secured both his and Katniss’ popularity among the tributes, it wouldn’t surprise him if District Twelve has gained twice the normal amount of sponsors, or even more considering their normal amount is not that high.

Replays of the most spectacular moments of the interviews play on big screens scattered around the streets resembling the billboards that littered all the buildings on Time Square more than a century ago. Everywhere Apollo looks, he can see his daughter twirling in her fabulous inferno dress, her body lit up in spectacular flames, and then the moment Peeta admits to having loved her for as long as he can remember. People around him dance in impromptu parades dressed up in cheap copies of the costumes Katniss and Peeta wore in the opening ceremony. Capitol citizens have been dressing up as their favourite tributes ever since the Hunger Games started becoming popular. Apollo still finds it rather tasteless and tone deaf, but it gives him a good indicator which tributes will get the most sponsors, even if their odds aren’t the best.

Apollo doesn’t participate in any of the festivities. He wanders through the sea of elaborate costumes that really, here and there, resembles the Carnaval do Brasil that used to be held every year in said country. Vendors are selling street food, and casinos are marketing their betting games for the 74th Hunger Games. Briefly, Apollo wonders how many of them have now scrambled to recalculate all their odds after Peeta’s declaration, and if it will result in someone getting fired if the numbers come out too inaccurate. 

He casts a quick glance at one of the casinos’ odds. Katniss’ odds are high, though it seems like her district is still a bit of a thorn in the side for people more interested in the outcome than likability. For people not that observant of numbers, however, it looks like Katniss is going in with good sponsors.

“Seeking to try out your luck, good sir?” the casino representative asks him when he’s accidentally looked at the numbers on the screen just a little too long.

Apollo just looks at him weirdly and walks off. Other markets are trying to profit off the games as well. Food covered in spirits set aflame seems to have become very popular this year, and many of the stalls have tried to incorporate fire into their decoration in some way.

After about two hours, Apollo wanders into Hermes. Unsurprising. As the god of commerce, Hermes has a finger in the game when it comes to betting. If anything, Apollo is more surprised that he didn’t run into Hermes sooner. 

Neither of them is smiling. Both are all too aware that their daughters are going to be in the arena at this time tomorrow, or maybe dead and being prepared to be sent back to their home districts. Demigods generally last longer than the mortal kids, but one or two of them can still easily be struck down along with the mortals at the start. The games are unpredictable that way.

“How are you holding up?” Apollo asks.

Hermes glares at him.

“Just fine, thank you. Really a nice move there. Was it yours or Demeter’s idea?”

“What?” Apollo blinks in surprise. He had assumed that he and Hermes had somewhat of an understanding, but now it seems like he was wrong.

“That little stunt Peeta Mellark pulled. Very clever. He and your daughter are now impossible to forget. Nobody will be getting many sponsors beside them, except the Careers, maybe.”

Apollo shakes his head in disbelief.

“I didn’t plan anything, Hermes. And I don’t think Demeter did either. The interviews were planned by the tributes along with their mentors. I doubt Percy would even allow us to interfere with that.”

Hermes just crosses his arms. People around them continue on with their dancing and drinking and ridiculous costumes, no one paying them any mind.

“Just tell me this. Did you know?”

“No.” Apollo shakes his head. He feels inexplicable tears starting to form in his eyes. “I had no idea of what Peeta was gonna say in his interview…”

Hermes squints at him. He then shoves past him. Perplexed, Apollo turns around and tries to keep up with him, but Hermes clearly isn’t having it.

“Don’t you have a certain gamemaker waiting for you to come warm the bed right about now?” Hermes hisses at him, and then he vanishes into the crowd.

Apollo is left standing, feeling like he just got slapped in the face. Yes, it isn’t exactly a secret that Apollo and Percy still sleep together, but the way Hermes had said it… Like an accusation. Not really of him being a whore, Apollo has been called the equivalent of a whore for millenia, it was more than just that… and it has Apollo’s eyes threatening to overflow. The thought of Hermes thinking so lowly of him…

Apollo decides to leave the streets of the Capitol for his own home and bury his face in his pillow. 

Percy is indeed already waiting in bed but Apollo can’t even bring himself to look at him. He flinches when Percy tries to touch him. Recoiling, he sits up and snap at Percy to go get fucked somewhere else for once.

Percy jumps back like Apollo had physically slapped him. When those beautiful green eyes get glassy with tears, Apollo realizes what he just did, but before he can apologize and tell Percy to please stay with him and not leave him alone, Percy shuffles out of bed and scampers out of the room like a kicked puppy. At this moment, Apollo actually hates himself. He hears Percy lay down and sniffle on the couch in Apollo’s living room. An hour goes by, the sniffling eventually dies down as Percy falls asleep.

Apollo spends the night wide awake.

The distaste fills his mouth like snake venom when Coriolanus looks at the rerun on his tv. He finds the boy’s vulnerability disgusting. Naïve infatuation for such a flashy, pompous showgirl, it’s one of those things that can only happen in the backwards districts, it’s why it would be so dangerous if you couldn’t keep them under control.

Hm… ‘backwards’... such an odd way of describing something… You know, in the sixty four years we’ve known each other, you’ve always had such a liberal use with that word for anything that isn’t the one percent. Odd, since you most certainly was not in that percent when we first met.

Coriolanus keeps staring at the now black screen. His visitor speaks like they’re old friends. He refuses to play into it. The visitor is certainly not a friend. He never even bothered to ask for its name, even before it dawned on him that it wasn’t a real person. 

Petrified, are you, Corio? You haven’t been frightened by something have you? I could check your wardrobe for monsters if you want. The safety of the President should be all of our priority, after all.

Coriolanus stands up, not to prove his mind ghost wrong, but to open a window. Chill air fills the room, along with the sounds of the city’s festivities.

Ah, it seems like the crowd has already picked their favorites this year, haven’t they? I gotta say, they caught onto the theme rather quickly. After those interviews, I can’t imagine the fire dying down anytime soon. Can you, Corio?

Coriolanus closes the window again. Best not to let any smoke from people’s burning attire get inside. His visitor keeps smiling.

Chapter Text

Early in the morning, Apollo wakes up to the noise of Percy moving around in the living room. Dragging himself out of bed and out of the bedroom, Apollo finds him looking like a lost bear cub, occasionally glancing toward the kitchen.

“Percy?”

Percy’s expression goes from lost bear cub, to deer in headlights. Apollo feels a lump form in his throat.

“I don’t want you to leave… I was just… something happened yesterday, and I ended up taking it out on you. That was wrong, and unfair of me, and I’m sorry.” Apollo bites his lip. “Please don’t leave,” he adds when Percy doesn’t respond.

Percy seems to relax slightly, as far as Apollo can tell. He isn’t willing to look at Apollo’s face. It strucks Apollo that he must’ve hit a sore spot with his lashout yesterday. He had literally told Percy to “go get fucked somewhere else”. Such a statement carried a lot of implications, that Apollo doesn’t even want to think about.

Percy remains quiet for a moment, fingering the hems of his embroidered blue chiton.

“Should we have breakfast?” he eventually asks.

“Yes!” Apollo replies quickly, relieved that Percy won’t vanish, at least for now. “Yes, breakfast sounds good.”

They eat in silence. But this morning is essentially always silent. In a few hours, all tributes will stand in a circle around a cornucopia filled to the brim with weapons and tools, all waiting for the moment to fight for their lives. No god except Percy knows what exactly awaits in this year’s arena, not even Zeus, but the Gamemakers usually keep to one specific biome. With that in mind, it’s always rigged with unimaginable horrors designed specifically to kill for the entertainment of a crowd, and those aren’t necessary modeled after nature, the only limit is the imagination of the Gamemakers, and Percy, who could step in if any death trap takes it too far in his opinion.

The thought of Katniss having to endure it makes Apollo sick to his stomach. He will be watching it all go down at the Hunger Games Headquarter along with the other godly parents of tributes and one camera filming for Hephaestus TV. Segments of him and the others will be shown when the mortal crowd in the Capitol has ad breaks. The camera is one of Percy’s compromises with Zeus regarding the games. Percy wanted total privacy, whereas Zeus wanted a whole camera crew.

After he’s managed to swallow at least some bacon and egg, Apollo stands up with Percy to leave.

The private lounge reserved for them looks just like Apollo remembers it from previous years he’s been there. There are three large couches, each with four seats. Along three of the walls, stands tables with food and drinks and whatever the room’s occupants might need. The outer wall is a window with a view of the entire Capitol and Olympus above it. Apollo takes a seat at the end of the couch in the middle. Before him is a small screen where the logo of the 74th Hunger Games is currently rotating. Throughout the games, this device will be his tool to monitor the events from the moment all tributes stand on their platform.

Apollo touches the screen and goes to the menu, where he finds the complete list of tributes with their odds, score points and district number. He opts to have the list showing on the side of the screen while he checks the other information provided. If he clicks on his own tribute’s name, he can see how much money sponsors have provided her and her district partner with. In a different part of the building, another part of his consciousness is currently signing sponsorship for District 12, but once it’s done, Haymitch Abbernathy will control how the money is used. If a godly parent is dissatisfied with how their tribute’s mentor handles sponsorships, they can complain to Percy. That must be happening rather frequently, judging by the button right next to all the sponsor info that takes you directly to the application to form a complaint. It was added fairly recently, but has come to good use, from what Apollo has heard.

Once all gods have sat down and familiarized themselves with their devices, Percy steps into the room and stands before the window. He reminds everyone of how this works, and that the camera will be filming at all times but they shouldn’t hesitate to voice their discomfort if necessary. He also gives a quick rundown of the logistics. When a demigod dies, his or her godly parent will turn off their tablet and leave the room. They will get the opportunity to give a final statement outside. Any complaints they may have are to be brought to Percy privately, anyone causing disruption will face repercussions.

A dryad comes in with the camera in hand. Percy gives a slight nod when the camera is turned on, sending live to every digital device connected through Hephaestus TV. The dryad sweeps through the room, trying to get a head shot of each god. Apollo is used to charming audiences through most mediums with just a smile, and a well spoken word, but when the camera lands on him, he simply mirrors Percy’s slight nod, refusing to smile or say anything about his daughter’s chances. Demeter, whom he shares the couch with along with Enyo and Hermes, gives a half glare. Hermes raises an eyebrow. Enyo is the only one on their couch who bothers to give a comment when the dryad asks.

“I have great trust in Thresh’s capability to survive. I see no reason to prepare his shroud just yet.”

Apollo is sure nobody doubts Thresh’s survivability. When he checks the odds on his screen, it shows Enyo’s son ranked high among possible victors.

It seems that the dryad filming them saved Ares for last, which was probably on purpose. As soon as the camera cuts to him, he starts boasting about his son and how none of the other tributes, regardless of training scores, will stand a chance against him. Apollo vaguely recalls Percy mentioning that if his friend Clarisse La Rue were to see any of this, she’d be embarrassed to call herself a daughter of Ares. 

The live stream cuts halfway through Ares’ speech. The rotating logo on the screens is replaced by a segment of the tributes’ mentors getting in position. Apollo quickly pulls up the list of this year’s mentors and compares it with the faces he sees on the screen. The mortal who’s filming this segment spends a disproportionate amount of time interviewing Finnick Odair, who seems to have a hard time keeping up his blinding smile. Ares, who appears to be a bit snubbed over being interrupted, mockingly calls out to Apollo that his kids are getting an unfair amount of attention this year.

“Someone get the whore off my screen!” Then Ares laughs at his own joke.

Just like Haymitch Abbernathy isn’t Dionysus’ son, Finnick Odair isn’t Apollo’s son, but the gods on Olympus sure love to joke about it, practically calling them both whores in one breath. But unlike Dionysus, Apollo never has any desire to join the laughter. He turns his head towards Ares and tilts his head so he can look down his nose at him.

“You can laugh all you want at him, Ares. Finnick still has more honor in one finger than many of your kids have in their whole bodies.”

That shuts Ares up and Apollo turns back to the screen, but not before catching a grateful glance from Percy. On the screen, Finnick has managed to redirect the interviewer’s attention to another mentor. The kid is usually a master at keeping up the facade, but seeing as he is a mentor this year, he is probably under an unusual amount of emotional turmoil. 

Before the segment ends, Apollo spots Haymitch in his chair looking so miserable he must be sober enough to mentor. It’s the same every year. It would be against his very nature to not even try to help his tributes, so each year he tries to sober up just enough to help the couple of kids he’s been given, even though he rarely lets it show, and then try to forget everything happening on planet earth by downing the nearest bottle of liquor once both of them are dead. Apollo wouldn’t deny that Haymitch is an alcoholic, he is, but Apollo knows he is also genuinely trying to help his tributes. 

The same goes for most mentors, really. They all relive some of their worst moments trying to keep their kids alive, and most of the time they fail, the same way Percy fails to keep all but one of those he is supposed to protect alive. In the way that matters, it’s the mentors who are Percy’s actual modern day equivalent of priests. They are the ones who actually care about having children’s lives in their hands and want to help them. They are the ones who mourn when a tribute dies, and they don’t care for what makes for good tv, further than getting sponsors to better help the tributes.

Apollo expects the camera crew filming the mentors to ask Haymitch anything about Katniss, but the view changes to the studio where the hosts introduce the first look at this year’s arena. The cornucopia is displayed on a flat expanse of dirt surrounded by forest, a field of wheat, and a lake. It’s the biome of a tempered forest, as far as Apollo can tell, which is good, seeing as Katniss is used to similar terrain. The godly parents’ tablets allow them to zoom in on specific details on the arena and look up exactly what it is and what dangers it contains. Apollo can view it all as a 3D map and click on the sections to read all about those sections, and zoom in on those sections and click on specific trees to see if it is hiding any death traps.

He goes back to the live footage of the arena when the audio, coming through the surround sound speakers in the lounge, announces that the tributes are now being launched into the arena. One by one, the head of each tribute, followed by the rest, rises up on their platforms from their launch rooms, or stockyards, forming a ring around the cornucopia. Some of them are blinded by the sudden sunlight.

It’s not the sun Apollo drives across the sky. The arena is an enclosure, with its own weather, and its own sun and moon synced after the Capitol’s time zone. Outside, it could be noon, or it could be midnight.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!” Claudius Templesmith’s voice booms through the speakers.

One minute, then the moment will arrive, when everyone gets to see what the tributes are truly made of. Apollo zooms in on Katniss. She is wearing her mockingjay pin, glimmering in the sunlight. Apollo can’t help the impulse to click on it. A transparent fact box pops up next to Katniss on his screen.

Katniss’ District Token: 

A golden clothing pin featuring a Mockingjay in flight

Trivia:

• The pin has been passed down from a previous owner who participated in the second Quarter Quell
• The pin was crafted by a blacksmith descended from gods Apollo, and Hephaestus
• The design is based on the Mockingjay, widely regarded as the Sacred Bird of Perseus Elpieus
• The pin has a sister pin featuring a hummingbird that has long since been lost

Apollo closes the fact box before he accidentally ends up going down a rabbit hole. Katniss is standing in front of the forest, with the wheat field before her, on the other side of the cornucopia, and the lake to her right. She seems to be asserting her whereabouts, glancing behind her towards the forest. That would be her best chance to aim for, but her eyes wander away from it and back toward the cornucopia. Apollo clicks on the cornucopia and skims through its inventory. It’s not hard to figure out what Katniss has spotted. The lone bow with arrows, strung and ready to use. Apollo stares at it for a moment. The Gamemakers must’ve put it there for Katniss. Why else would there only be one?

But Apollo can’t imagine his daughter being able to reach it before someone else kills her. Katniss is rather fast, but other tributes are sure to be fast too, and it would only take a second for someone to pick up a throwing knife and throw it at Katniss while she is still strapping the sheet of arrows to her back. It can’t be worth it, which Katniss must realize.

But it doesn’t seem like she does. When Apollo goes back to the live stream, it looks like Katniss has decided to run toward the cornucopia, not away from it. She’ll get herself killed…

But then before the gong rings, what happens must be some sort of a miracle. It looks like Peeta Mellark has also noticed what Katniss is planning to do and manages to catch her eye. He almost unnoticeably shakes his head to her and then the gong rings.

Katniss hesitates. Instead of running for the bow, she scoops up a sheet of plastic and a loaf of bread. Then, looking rather annoyed at the tenuous booty, she rushes for a bright orange backpack. She fights over it with a mortal tribute who quickly dies when he is hit by a knife in the back. Katniss gets the backpack and blood splattered over her face. 

Nemesis leans forward over her tablet. Her daughter, who threw the knife, now aims for Katniss. She hits the backpack as Katniss sprints away, finally heading to the forest. Nemesis purses her lips and Apollo breathes a sigh of relief.

The bloodbath has officially started, and Katniss is now out of sight and out of most tributes’ minds. But it seems that Peeta isn’t as lucky. He, too, was sprinting for the woods, but he started further away than Katniss did. He has now found himself with too many other tributes between him and the goal. Demeter covers her mouth, expecting her son to be killed at any moment. But apparently, Peeta can talk his way out of a lot, at least when he gets his hands on a knife. A mortal boy from District 7 goes for an axe to swing at him but never retrieves it when Peeta tackles him and slices his throat like he’d slice a piece of bread. The only mortal Career boy from 4 then lunges at him and that spells the end of him. Ares’ son readies himself to attack with a deadly sword, but Peeta raises his hands. With all the commotion, it’s hard to pick out exactly what Peeta says, but whatever he says seems to convince the other boy not to kill him just yet. It sounded like it was about Katniss, but Apollo can’t tell for sure. Then Peeta has taken the place of the boy from District 4 as the sixth Career.

The remaining mortals try to scatter once they realize they can’t scavenge anything more, but the demigods take them out. One by one, Apollo watches young boys and girls die by the hands of other young boys and girls. He’s witnessed this kind of slaughter for 74 years, but Apollo still feels his guts churning like he’s about to throw up. He declines when lunch time comes around and they’re served various ambrosia dishes. Anything he would try to eat right now would just come right back up again.

To distract himself, Apollo clicks on everything and reads through every fact box and sometimes checks the betting scores. The odds change with each dead tribute. At one point he opens the list of tributes only to close it immediately when he sees a name go dark at the same second. 

In between deaths, the cameras switch to those tributes who managed to escape the blood bath. Katniss is putting as much distance between herself and the cornucopia as she can, and Rue follows the same tactic. It’s mostly just glimpses to show the audience that those tributes are still alive.

It’s late afternoon when the Gamemakers at last deem the bloodbath to be over and fires the cannons. All eleven mortals are now dead, and their bodies are being collected. All thirteen demigods remain. Just as usual. On Olympus, gods would say now the real hunt will begin. Apollo looks up at Percy, knowing part of his consciousness is now on the hovercraft picking up the dead tributes. His face is blank, grieving the lives lost, but refusing to cry as long as there’s a camera in the room.

Looking through the 3D map, Apollo finds Katniss’ tracker in the forest. After the cannons are fired, she has decided to take a break and check her inventory. While she rummages through the bag, Apollo reads the list of provisions in the fact box for it. A sleeping bag, one pack of crackers, one pack of dried beef strips, one bottle of iodine, one box of matches, one coil of wire, one pair of night vision glasses, and one empty half-gallon water bottle. Packing a water bottle with no water seems almost mean, but it must mean there are sources of water where Katniss can fill it. Typing it into the search bar, Apollo is proven right. The arena has water sources, and not just the lake. There are ponds and rivers in the forest, one of which leads to the lake. The possible challenge Apollo sees would be to find them.

Katniss heads deeper into a valley. When it starts to darken, she scrapes off some bark from a pine tree for a snack. Her priority right now would be to find a place to set up camp for the night. While searching, she sets some snares for food. Going back to the live stream, Apollo finds himself watching his daughter from another angle. She climbs up a willow tree. She secures herself in her sleeping bag with her belt around the branch. 

The anthem plays. In the arena, the tributes see simple headshots in the sky with the district numbers of the dead. Those watching get to see the full recap of each murder. They play the scene in the order of district number, rather than chronologically. First the girl from District 3, followed by Peeta killing the boy from District four, then the boy from District 5, both from 6 and 7, one of which was killed by Peeta, the boy from 8, both from 9, and lastly the girl from 10.

When the sky in the arena goes dark, the cameras try to capture some reactions from the living tributes. Katniss’ face is more or less hidden in her sleeping bag, but Peeta is fully visible where he is standing with the Careers. He’s holding a torch, looking up at the now dark sky. Claudius Templesmith and Ceasar Flickerman discuss what might be happening in the boy’s head right now. They’re both sure he’s thinking of Katniss. Looking at his face, that seems to be the epitome of loneliness, Apollo can’t help but agree.

His half sister, Rue, sits bundled up in a tree and is trying to wrap her jacket around herself as best as she can. Her backpack evidently didn’t come with a sleeping bag, instead she is keeping some warmth by using a pair of socks as gloves while holding the hem of the jacket. She doesn’t seem to have found the death announcements that interesting. She looks even smaller than she is, crouched up in her tree. The sight brings Apollo back to when he stood outside the Grove of Dodona with Meg, standing face to face with her stepfather, Nero. Meg had looked unnaturally small in that moment that could have been just as fatal as the arena now is for Rue. 

Apollo doesn’t bother looking at the other tributes who aren’t hidden from the cameras. He puts his tablet aside and goes up to one of the tables to get some food. Now when the killing seems to be on pause, he is feeling the hunger from skipping lunch. Some of the other gods also try to get something in their stomach, while others are filing out. The lounge is located at the end of a corridor, with the other doors leading to small but elegant hotel rooms reserved for the godly parents during the games. Apollo never really gets much sleep the years when he has a tribute child in the game, but not because of those bedrooms. They are actually quite nice, if not a bit small, they’re only ever used for a few hours of sleep in between the days in the lounge, after all.

The dryad sneaks up to him with her camera as Apollo pours himself a cup of warm milk with lemon flavoured honey.

“Lord Apollo, now that the first day of the Games has passed, what do you think of it so far?”

Apollo takes a sip while contemplating how to answer that question without angering anyone he doesn’t want to anger.

“It has certainly been a bloody ordeal,” he tells the dryad, thinking of that boy’s blood splattering across his daughter’s face.

“It certainly has!” The dryad laughs. “And what are your thoughts on your daughter’s district partner? He seems to be head over heels for her.”

Apollo looks at the dryad only trying to do her job, and at the camera currently sending live. 

“Yeah, he certainly does, huh?” 

Then he walks away, signaling that the interview is over. He leaves the cup on a tray and pulls Percy with him by the wrist as he leaves the lounge and heads for his assigned room. Once the door closes behind them, Apollo crashes his lips against Percy’s, pushing him up against the door. He only pauses to get Percy’s chiton off and throw the younger god onto the bed. He’s not gentle. He is taking all his frustration, anger, and hopelessness out on Percy. And Percy lets him, wrapping his arms around Apollo’s neck and his legs around his torso, pulling them closer. They must both be desperate to numb the pain.

The herbal tea has just been delivered to Coriolanus’ office when he watches the recaps of the opening day of the games. He sees how the little showgirl runs with her little backpack. Leaving behind the boy from her district that was so tragically enamored with her. The boy’s death will be a mercy when it comes, though he will probably never know it.

Do you ever see the bodies after they’ve left the arena, Corio?

His visitor sits too close to him on the couch. The whispering in his ear sends chills through his every nerve. But he refuses to break again. This entity is playing games with him, but Coriolanus will not allow it the satisfaction of winning in the long run. He looks straight ahead as the screen shows each dead tribute, keeping up the pretence of being alone.

It’s such an odd view, those bodies, laying on their bier, to be sent back home. You’d expect the dead to look peaceful, once you’ve closed their eyes.

The screen cuts to Claudius Templesmith and Ceasar Flickerman in the studio and Coriolanus decides it’s time to leave. He feels the visitor’s presence behind him, even as he reaches his bedroom.

They don’t look peaceful, did you know that? They just look fragile. Like bridle straws of wheat.

Coriolanus rummages through the wardrobe for his night attire. He holds no interest in what a dead body among hundreds of others looks like. Have you seen one, you’ve seen them all.

The thing about straw, though…

The cold presence trails up right behind him.

It’s the very thing that will break your camel’s back.

And the entity is gone. And Coriolanus picks up the tea and throws it out the window.

Chapter Text

Apollo wakes at the break of dawn. Percy is snoring lightly in his arms. For a moment, Apollo feels a bit disoriented when he realizes they’re not in Apollo’s palace. Then he remembers where they are, and he’d rather go back to sleep, to pretend that he lives in a world where there are no Hunger Games. A world where his children are still safe at Camp Half Blood or Camp Jupiter, and Percy truly is his.

A part of Apollo’s essence is split off to raise the sun, the rest of him stays in bed, hugging Percy’s sleeping form. He will have to get up soon, and eat breakfast with the others in the parents’ lounge before they all turn on their tablets and see what’s happened during the night. Many Careers tend to prefer to hunt at night. It’s not impossible that they’ll find out that somebody died during the night. A part of Apollo is anxious over the idea that his daughter might already be dead. On Olympus, everyone is anxious to see who will be the first demigod to fall this year. Despite her eleven points, Apollo knows many have betted that she would be the first.

Percy starts moving and Apollo isn’t allowed to sleep in anymore. Attending nymphs has served up an entire hotel breakfast buffet for them in the lounge. Some of the parents are piling food on their plates to stress eat, while others barely have anything at all on their plate. Remembering the previous day, Apollo piles up on his plate, knowing he might not be able to eat during lunch time, depending on what his tablet is showing.

He casts a glance at Percy, who is sprawled out on the love seat reserved for the Divine Gamemaker. He has his own tablet in his lap. Apollo knows the face he’s making, and his suspicion is all but confirmed when Percy’s frame flickers for a moment, indicating he just split his consciousness. One more tribute is dead, and is probably being prepared for burial on one of the hovercrafts circling the arena. Everyone knew how the games worked. For a tribute to win, all the others had to die. The Patron of Young Heroes is always torn in different directions, trying to help everyone, but ultimately having to leave all but one to their fate. Apollo would watch Percy break down a little more each year, when he didn’t have a child of his own in the arena, and worry that this would one day become too much for him, that Percy would fade away under the weight of all the demigods he could never protect.

Apollo wants to try and comfort him, but he doesn’t know how to. And he is also scared. Will he open his tablet and find out that Katniss is the dead tribute? The thought makes it hard to swallow his breakfast.

The dryad with the camera enters the room and announces what Apollo had already figured out, that the first demigod has now fallen. She asks everyone for comments, but doesn’t get much, as all gods in the room are itching to turn on their tablets to find out if their kids are still alive. Apollo pointedly ignores the camera, as he shovels all his breakfast down his throat. When everyone is done eating, the dryad will record their live reaction to the death. When he goes to leave his plate, Apollo hears Percy remind the dryad to keep a little distance.

The screen of his tablet lights up and it’s not Katniss' name that has gone dark. It’s Athena’s daughter. Apollo, and the others watch as the recap starts playing. Everyone awake right now is watching the same recap of how a tribute died while they slept. The mortals see it next to the mentor’s reaction, on Olympus, Hephaestus TV also shows the reactions of the tributes’ godly parents. The girl died just before dawn, Athena’s daughter was just a stone’s throw away from where Katniss was sleeping in her tree. The girl had been snapping twigs. Then her actions cause many in the lounge to frown, she lit a fire, while it was still dark.

Apollo looks up and exchanges a few glances with some of his colleagues. They’re all thinking the same thing. Why? Surely, a child of the Goddess of Wisdom would be able to figure out how dangerous that would be at that hour? Athena is not showing any emotion, she is just frowning at her screen where her daughter has just signed her death warrant.

The recap fast forward a couple of hours, to when the fire inevitably has drawn in the Careers. The girl has dozed off, and now finds herself to be a sitting duck. Her screams of plea falls on deaf ears. Ares’ son silences her. The laughter and congratulations that follow makes Apollo want to recoil. He watches the kids scavenge through the girl’s belongings and be disappointed, wondering why the feed doesn’t switch to when the hovercraft lifts up the body. That question is answered when the cameras catch a clear shot of the poor girl, she is badly wounded, but not yet dead. She’ll probably bleed out in a few hours, but she sees the Careers go through her stuff and leave in disappointment.

Then the Careers halt on their path and notice the lack of a cannon. They briefly discuss if someone should go back to double check that the girl is dead. Ares’ son, Cato, is certain that the girl is dead, and is not interested in going back. Another argues they don’t wanna have to hunt her down twice. Peeta eventually ends the argument and tells them he will go back to check. He finds the girl whimpering quietly. After a brief moment of hesitation, he crouches down and whispers an apology to the girl before he puts an end to her suffering. The cannon goes off by the time Peeta gets back to the other Careers and the hovercraft retrieves the body. 

Then the recap ends and the hosts wish the audience a good morning. While Athena stands up with her chin high and leaves the room, they then show the map of the arena where each live tribute is marked by glowing dots and points out how close tribute Katniss Everdeen was to the encounter.

“Why don’t we have a look at Miss Everdeen’s reaction to this encounter?” Caesar Flickerman asks and footage of the tree appears.

Katniss slips down the tree with her stuff all packed in the bag again. Once she’s steady on her feet, she crocks her head and smiles, like she knows something.

“She seems to be taking it all in a stride,” Claudius Templesmith notes. “You think this could be according to some plan she and Peeta Mellark had worked out?”

“Hard to say, Claudius,” Flickerman responses. “Joining forces with Districts 1, 2 and 4, seemed to be a decision made up on the spot from Mr. Mellark’s side. Though, perhaps that still aligns with whatever exact strategy District 12 is going for. They might have discussed one of them taking a more hands on approach towards their competition, while the other goes for a more sneaky approach. What they expect to achieve with this, or if they are planning something else entirely, remains to be seen.”

“All we can do in the meantime, ladies and gentlemen, is speculate. Now, let’s see how the tributes are doing on the live feed!”

The live feed shows Katniss at the campsite of Athena’s daughter. She is cooking what turns out to be rabbit meat from one of her snares over the charcoal of the dying firepit. While waiting, she tries to do something about the bright orange color of her backpack with the help of a charred branch, but it doesn’t garner much result. She is visually dissatisfied with the work but figures it will have to do for now. She eats half of the roasted rabbit spit on the go.

Throughout the day, the cameras capture what each tribute is doing. Rue is roughly in the same area as Katniss, and she has discovered a few food sources to sustain herself with. She gathers a lot of dark berries that Apollo would guess are black chokeberries. The fact box shows he is partially right, it’s in the same family, but more importantly, they’re edible. She also turns out to be a skilled nest robber when she finds a birdnest in a marshy area with eggs. When she isn’t gathering food, she spends her time in the trees.

Thresh seems to be laying low in the wheat field. Apollo has to wonder if there is a shortage of functioning cameras there, because for a strong tribute with his odds, Thresh is rarely shown. Maybe he simply isn’t doing something interesting enough…?

Eubouleus’ son from District 10 is in another part of the forest. With his crippled foot, many of the gods had betted that he would be the first demigod to fall, and now he has lost many gods their money. Apollo figures that if the boy has lived with his disability at least most of his life, he has probably learned long ago how to work around it. The boy steers clear of most berries he finds but his evident experience with livestock comes in handy when he comes across a waterbird that is probably the same species that Rue is stealing eggs from. He manages to catch one by ambush and breaks its neck.

Hermes’ daughter has made the bold decision to remain near the Careers’ campsite. She is staying hidden at the edge of the forest, where she can make a run for it should she be spotted. While the Careers leave their supplies to hunt, she sneaks out and steals some of the food. She is careful not to leave any traces behind and not to take more than what the Careers won’t notice. Under any other circumstances, Apollo knows Hermes would be proud of such cunning stealth and thievery.

Someone less stealthy, however, is Hephaestus’ son from District 3. He has also remained close by, and decides at some point to approach the Cornucopia. With a flat rock as a tool, he starts digging close to one of the platforms until he picks up the deactivated land mine. The hosts act perplexed when the boy starts tinkering with the land mine and wonders if he is hoping to repurpose some parts.

“District 3 has produced their fair share of brainjacks through the years,” Claudius Templesmith reminds the audience. “I think our most famous example would be Beetee Latier, whose electric trap earned him victory in the 34th Hunger Games.”

An old clip of six children being electrified is shown. Apollo hates that clip. He knows all too well the feeling of voltage too high running through your body, setting every cell on fire. Those bodies of dead children still twitching had caused Apollo to throw up all his stomach contents back then, and he still has to make an effort not to puke right now.

A mortal reporter stationed in the room where the mentors sit seeks out Athena’s son and asks for a comment regarding his tribute.

“My advice was to work with what you could find. We didn’t discuss the land mines specifically, but we talked about what he could expect to find in the Cornucopia. Granted, approaching any of those supplies would be very risky.”

Beetee then waves the reporter away. In the lounge, the dryad, whose name is apparently Birch, approaches Hephaestus for a comment as well but doesn’t receive much more than an awkward grunt.

When the boy has detached the pressure plate, done some tinkering, and reattached the plate, the Careers return and spot him. They run towards him, ready to kill, but the boy quickly places the land mine on the ground in front of him and backs away. It’s Peeta who connects the dots.

“Wait!” he shouts and the other Careers halt as well. “It’s one of the land mines. The kid managed to reactivate it.”

Apollo doubts Peeta knows much about the technology behind the land mines, but the education in District 12 is centered around coal mining, which would include some theory around the use of explosives. That could, maybe, be enough for Peeta to know that even if the mechanics are disabled, the charge inside the land mine would remain undisturbed and could be used for something else if you can reach it without blowing up. But it is also possible that Peeta simply made an educated guess after seeing the land mine and knowing District 3 has the factories where explosive devices are made.

Nevertheless, the other Careers listen to his warning. They look from the land mine to the boy, pondering how far around the land mine they’d have to pass without setting it off. The boy doesn’t run. Maybe he expects the Careers will be fast enough to catch him as soon as they’ve rounded the land mine. He glances to the side, then he makes an offer.

“I can help you,” he tells the Careers and points at the storage of supplies near the lake. “It’s not very practical to leave all your stuff unprotected.”

The Careers look toward their campsite and then back at the boy. It’s Kymopoleia’s daughter who speaks next.

“You think you could place land mines as protection?” She sounds skeptical.

“That doesn’t sound very practical to me,” Mithras’ son says.

“Unless you do it right,” Hephaestus’ son counters. “The land mines can be placed far enough apart to pass through safely for those who know, and also ensure that the others remain undisturbed if one is triggered.”

“It would be a trap with our own supplies as bait, while we can still use them…” Peeta looks at the boy quizzically.

“Precisely.” The boy nods.

The Careers discuss it with each other for a minute before they turn back to the boy.

“Well then.” Ares’ son throws a spear to the boy. “You better get to work then, nerd.”

The boy spends the rest of the day mapping out where to put each land mine the Careers dig up for him. When the sun sets, all the Careers’ supplies are stacked into a pyramid surrounded by a mine field. Apollo can’t help but be equally impressed and horrified. At least any death this trap causes will be quick and mostly painless.

When the anthem plays, the death of the girl from District 8 is replayed followed by Thalia, the Muse of Comedy, not Thalia Grace, who sits in her studio interviewing Athena about her daughter.

The next day, Katniss is showing clear signs of dehydration, right from the moment she clumsily falls down the tree she was sleeping in. This isn’t surprising. It’s the third day in the arena, and three days is the general limit for how long humans can go without water, especially when you are a kid who has faced periods of poor nourishment that slightly stunted your growth, and you keep moving around in warm weather. Katniss has to use a makeshift walking cane as she walks through the forest. She stumbles and halts multiple times, but she doesn’t stop. She must be looking for a source of water, Apollo thinks. After having lived off of what the forest outside of District 12 gives since she was 11, she surely won’t accept dying of natural causes in another forest. She also probably doesn’t want Prim to have to see her sister dying like this.

Apollo opens Katniss’ information on his tablet and checks the balance. District 12’s sponsor money should be more than enough for Haymitch to send water if necessary. But Haymitch isn’t a cheapskate, if he isn’t sending aid to his tributes, there is a reason. Apollo views the 3D-map and sees why. Katniss is already on the right path towards a water source. She’ll find it if she can hold out just a little more.

But Katniss is getting weaker by the minute. Ares mutters from his couch that there’s no fun when tributes die on their own. Apollo wants to tell him to shut his mouth, but he can’t take his eyes off the screen. He worries Ares might be right. Katniss collapses a mere five yards from the pond and at last looks like she is about to give up. Her fingers swirl slowly in the mud. Apollo can barely keep his breath steady. His daughter is so close…!

Come on, Katniss! Apollo thinks. It’s mud! What does that tell you?

As if she can hear his thoughts, Katniss’ eyes shoots up. She digs her fingers in the muddy ground, ensuring she isn’t imagining things. She has to crawl, but with renewed hope, she finds the pond. It’s decorated with beautiful yellow pond lilies. Katniss manages to fill her bottle, and remember to add the iodine, before she drinks any of it. She drinks slowly over the next couple of hours, emptying the bottle two times. She refills the bottle a third time before she makes camp in a new tree. Rehydrated, she has regained her strength rather quickly. She keeps taking sips in the tree while eating more of her rabbit and one of her crackers. When the anthem plays, Apollo’s daughter actually appears to be in a rather good mood, all things considered.

The next attempt at giving Apollo a heart attack comes the next morning. Soon before dawn, the Gamemakers lit a forest fire in the section Katniss was sleeping in. Apollo only sees the recap of Katniss, and also Rue, who had been close by, fleeing from the fire while the Gamemakers apparently play target shooting on them with fire balls. Both girls sustain serious burn marks that’ll need some sort of medical attention, but they make it out of the section alive.

When the recap ends and the live feed starts, Apollo breathes a sigh of relief and returns the tight hug from Demeter. He is glad his aunt doesn’t hold any ill will towards the tributes. Seeing their daughters face the same danger, they can support each other. Not many godly parents would consider that, in fact, many of them would hope the other’s kid died so their own kid might live.

Katniss is fortunate enough to come across a pool of water from a cold spring, allowing her to tend to her burned calf and hands, while Rue has to make do with whatever cold leaves and dirt she can find. She is sensible enough not to place dirt directly on burned skin, though. She keeps a layer of fabric between her skin and the leaves and dirt. The air remains thick with smoke for a while, which forces Rue to stay on the ground to not breathe in the toxic smoke. She sits huddled up against a tree trunk while she waits for the air to clear enough. It’s late afternoon when she hears other people approaching and decides that it’s her cue to start climbing again.

She goes unnoticed by the Careers, who instead have spotted Katniss when she hastily leaves the water. They chase after her and although they might not have been in the direct line of fire earlier, they clearly have inhaled a lot of the smoke, which didn’t care much for borders between sections. Katniss manages to climb up a tree before the Careers reach her, even though the exercise must be excruciating with her blistered hands. She is fast though, and when the Careers reach her, she is twenty feet up in the air.

The Careers look up at Katniss. Katniss looks back. Then she smiles.

“How’s everything with you?” she calls down to them.

“Well enough,” Cato replies after a moment. “Yourself?”

“It’s been a bit warm for my taste. The air’s better up here,” Katniss straight up lies, because that’s not how smoke works. “Why don’t you come on up?”

“I think I will.”

Aphrodite’s daughter steps toward Cato with the bow from the Cornucopia.

“Here, take this, Cato.”

“No. I’ll do better with my sword.”

Cato hoists himself up on the first branch and Katniss starts climbing higher. She is about fifty feet off the ground when Cato’s weight sends him flailing back to the ground with a broken branch. He gets up on his feet and utters a few profanities that get censored out. The irony…

Aphrodite’s daughter, Glimmer, makes an attempt at climbing, but when the branches start cracking she is smart enough to retreat. Meanwhile, Katniss has reached eighty feet’s height. Glimmer decides to try the bow instead, which, standing so close to the trunk, would make her more of a safety hazard to herself and her fellow Careers than to Katniss. As any archer will hopefully tell you; you should never shoot your arrow straight up! That, because when the arrow falls back down, it will do so with the heavier sharp end first.

Glimmer gets lucky, though, and most of the arrows get entangled in the tree’s branches and twigs before they can fall to the ground. One arrow gets lodged in the bark near Katniss, which she coaxes out to tease the Careers with.

Annoyed, the Careers huddle together to discuss what to do. It’s clear they can’t reach her, and with dusk nearing, they soon won’t be able to see her either.

“Oh, let her stay up there. It’s not like she’s going anywhere. We’ll deal with her in the morning,” Peeta tells them, effectively ending the discussion.

The others begrudgingly agree. Katniss, who seems to have heard him, decides it’s safe to slip down to a forked branch to take out her sleeping bag. While she fumbles with her stuff, Apollo looks at the sponsor info, specifically what gifts can be sent to the tribute with the money. Ultimately, the mentor decides on the gifts, but the sponsors can give suggestions. Katniss is visibly in pain from her burns and now when she is somewhat safe in the tree, Apollo can think of a thousand ways to heal those burns.

He sends his suggestion and redirects his focus to the arena. Katniss has cut a hole in the bag to let the burned calf hang out in the chill air. She is trying to rest but something catches her attention. Apollo can’t follow her gaze through the camera, but next to him, Demeter lets out a quiet gasp. He glances at her screen, where Demeter is following Rue’s movements. He opens the 3D-map on his own tablet to see that Rue’s dot is right next to Katniss’. Apollo zooms in on an angle where he can sort of see both girls through the leaves. 

Rue points at something higher up in Katniss’ tree. Katniss looks up at whatever it is, and then back at Rue’s direction, but she has hidden again. 

Apollo zooms out again to get an overview of the tree. He opens the fact box for it when he doesn't see anything through the foliage. What kind of tree it is is uninteresting, but one of the notes sticks out. Hosts a Tracker Jacker Nest. He clicks on the note and the footage shows the nest hanging about fifteen feet above Katniss’ head. Through the audio, Apollo hears Caesar Flickerman point out and describe some of what Apollo can read in the fact box. The tracker jackers was another mutation used against the rebels during the Dark Days. They were Artemis’ idea. Larger, and more aggressive than regular wasps, with distinct golden bodies, and a dangerous hallucinogenic venom that can kill you with only a few stings. They, unlike regular wasps, won’t just protect their nest by chasing you away, but actively hunt you down. Artemis essentially took everything that makes wasps scary and made it a hundred times worse. When Apollo had felt the tracker jackers’ sting during the war, he’d honestly believed his sister must be a fullblown, coldblooded sadist to come up with such a thing.

The mere sight of the nest is enough to make Apollo’s heart rate speed up in his chest, and it doesn’t get better when Katniss starts to climb toward the nest instead of away from it. With her size, Apollo would estimate that about four, possibly five stings would be lethal for her. Then again, demigods are generally more sturdy than mortals, but with this insect, Apollo doesn’t feel particularly optimistic.

The anthem starts and Katniss takes it as a cue to draw her knife and start sawing into the supporting branch with the serrated part of the knife-edge. She gets through three quarters of the branch while the anthem plays and stops abruptly when the music ends. She observes her work and then slips back to her bag. 

While she was gone, Haymitch delivered the gift Apollo suggested. An expensive ointment made in the Capitol that Apollo’s son Asclepius has developed especially to treat larger burns. She whispers her thanks to Haymitch and starts treating her injuries. The effect is instant, and Katniss is able to fall asleep in her bag soon after.

Once his daughter is asleep, Apollo turns off the tablet and hurries out of the room. He walks past the hotel bedrooms and steps into the elevator. He pushes the button for the Headquarter’s roof, the only place he can think of at the moment where he can be alone for a moment to scream his lungs out. The rooftop looks similar to the roof on the Training center, but without the forcefield around it. No one is fearing that somebody would jump off this building, apparently. Or maybe anyone who would is just easily replaceable. Apollo can’t die anyway so it really doesn’t matter. It’s windy outside, and that’s all he needs at this moment.

He screams out all of his frustration and helplessness into the air, counting on all the typical noise of metropolitan cities to drown it out. His throat feels raw when he finally stops.

And that’s when he notices he isn’t alone on the roof.

“Go away, Dionysus,” he groans.

“Nah, I don’t feel like leaving,” the wine god chuckles, not really sounding sober. “Here brother big, have some milk for that throat.”

Apollo frowns at him, but accepts the glass.

“What are you doing here?”

Dionysus shrugs and downs his bottle of cherry wine. He looks out at the Capitol, leaning over the railing.

“I dunno. Figured I might owe you an apology.”

Apollo raises an eyebrow. Most sane gods don’t go around apologizing, not even, or especially not, when they’re actually in the wrong.

“What would you apologize for?”

Dionysus looks out into the distance with a new cocktail in hand. He is quiet for so long that Apollo starts to wonder if the guy is too drunk to remember he is in a conversation.

“Those are some nasty bees, the tracker jackers. Heard you were one of those who got stung pretty badly. Sorry for that…”

Apollo blinks before he stares at his intoxicated brother.

“D, the tracker jackers weren’t your creation. They were my sister’s idea.” Apollo is seriously pondering if he needs to call the grey sisters to come pick up Dionysus and get him home.

“And who do you think helped develop the toxin?”

Maybe not yet.

“What?”

Dionysus turns to him and raises a third cocktail in mock cheers. Neither of them says anything else for a while. Apollo looks out over the rooftops of the Capitol, not wanting to remember the effect of the tracker jacker venom during the war. The only relief he got from it was waking up in Asclepius’ ward with Percy fussing over him. Apollo had fallen unconscious from the cliffs into the sea where Poseidon had found him and taken him back to the nearest rebel base. He never really dared to ask exactly how long he’d been under the venom's influence, but it must’ve been about a week at least. The things he’d seen still fuels his nightmares all these decades later. A part of him always wants to track down his sister and beg for mercy when he wakes up from them. But to what end? Apollo doubts Artemis will ever feel any remorse for what she did during the war, just like Ares seems too proud of the stub where his right foot used to be before.

“Maybe I chose the wrong side back then.” Dionysus sighs to himself and disappears before Apollo can turn to look at him.

Apollo is left stunned. No god who fought on Zeus’ side ever voices any regret over their choices, at least out loud.

Coriolanus leaves the room where he’d just met with Seneca Crane. The man is becoming too sentimental, he fears. He would have preferred for the Gamemakers to burn the girl from 12 to a crisp when they had the opportunity. He also would have preferred them not to have given that score point, but neither could be undone now.

Oh, but what difference would it have made, Coriolanus? The disgruntled, would just see it as you viewing a girl from District 12 as a threat, and those not disgruntled wouldn’t even draw the connection. What would burning her to a crisp really achieve then?

The invisible companion had sat next to the unaware Seneca Crane during the whole meeting, staring at Snow with that ghost of a malicious smile on his lips. Now he is following too close behind him, giving Coriolanus goosebumps he cannot afford to acknowledge.

What is it with these games that always have so stoic? No one thinks you’re any fun to hang out with these days. Surely you must have noticed people stepping around you like it’s you who is surrounded by land mines?

Coriolanus closes the door behind him. His reputation is hard earned. It’s what got him into his current position. If people didn’t fear retribution, no one would be able to enforce order. People’s fear of him is good.

You keep believing that, Corio. You’ll realize one day how vulnerable your loneliness really is.

The quiet laughter rings in his ears.

Chapter Text

Nobody dies during the night and the broadcast goes directly to live feed. The Careers lay scattered at the tree trunk, and Katniss, perched up in the tree, is packing up her things after examining her burns. While she observes her surroundings, Apollo observes the tracker jacker nest. Part of him hopes that his daughter has abandoned her idea of sawing it down so it’ll land among the Careers, but the other part of him can’t see any other way out of her situation. At the same time, he can’t see how Katniss could possibly pull off the stunt without being stung herself.

The other godly parents whose kids are currently at the scene are at the edge of their seats, Ares is eager for blood. The others carry carefully neutral faces that screams they all know that this morning is going to end in death, and at least one of them won’t be in the room for much longer. Apollo hasn’t touched the breakfast, refuses to until the tracker jacker situation is over. He watches Katniss scan the tree branches around her and call out to Rue. Demeter visibly relaxes somewhat when her daughter understands Katniss’ idea and evacuates the area, jumping between branches.

Most tracker jackers are still groggy, but Apollo spots the first treacherous insect crawling out of the nest when Katniss reaches the branch with the nest. His heart practically flies up in his throat. If one is out, more are sure to follow. Katniss spots the wasp and tries to wipe her hands off on her clothes. She hurries to start sawing to get through the branch while more wasps start buzzing within the nest. The first one stings her knee and Katniss’ whole body jerks in pain, but she doesn’t stop sawing. Once she’s through, she shoves it away and watches it fall through the greenery. It entangles and detangles in other branches before it lands on the ground and cracks open like an egg.

Panic breaks out among the Careers. One of them screams to run to the lake, and some of them have enough sense to do exactly that. Glimmer and Kymopoleia’s daughter don't have time. They try to follow their allies, but the tracker jackers have already delivered enough stings for them to be dead girls walking. Glimmer loses her sanity and tries to flail off wasps with her elbows, screaming as she goes down, her body swelling from all the stings. She lays twitching on the ground, her mind long gone while the poison tortures her in waiting for her death. Kymopoleia’s daughter is gone soon after. She didn’t reach the lake.

Katniss has received two more stings when she deems it time to leave the tree. Apollo sees the swollen areas on her neck and cheek, leaking a green liquid. She at least had enough presence of mind to pull out the stingers, but the hallucinogenic compound won’t let her stay lucid for long. She aims for the opposite direction from the lake to the pond she’d stumbled upon the previous day. She dips into the water and swims around for a few minutes before she heaves herself up on the rocks.

Apollo lets out a breath. Katniss is out of danger, sort of. The tracker jacker venom will affect her badly, but the Careers will be affected as well and probably won’t be able to hunt for a few days. The fact that Katniss can still move around is a good sign, she didn’t get a lethal dose of the venom. For a brief moment, Apollo thinks his daughter’s main concern now will be how vulnerable to other tributes she’ll be for the next few days in that pool of water, or how lucid her mind will be to keep her nose above water, but then Katniss shoots up from the pond and runs back to the scene of the crime. 

It befuddles Apollo, until Katniss reaches Glimmer just as the canon goes off. She went back for the bow. The poor girl is unrecognizable in death. Once a beautiful girl, now a swollen lump of flesh that disintegrates in Katniss’ fingers, covered in oozing venom and pus. The hovercraft won’t retrieve the body until the area is cleared, and the tracker jackers have vanished, but Katniss fumbles with the bow and the sheath of arrows like she’s in a hurry. The venom has started to affect her mind. Her movements are clumsy. Apollo catches himself biting his nails. The Careers might still come back for the supplies they had to drop at the tree. They all outweigh Katniss significantly, and the venom might take longer to take effect.

The second canon goes off for Kymopoleia’s daughter and a hovercraft goes in to retrieve her. The live feed shows the body leaving the arena before refocusing on Katniss’ struggle with the bow and arrows. Claudius Templesmith comments on how Katniss can’t be far from passing out judging by her frantic behavior in reaction to the hovercraft.

Apollo ignores Aphrodite and Kymopoleia leaving the lounge. Katniss has managed to free the sheath just as the living Careers return. They seem to be pretty out of it as well, as they probably wouldn’t have expected Katniss to still be there if it weren’t for the venom, but as is, they’re running frantically, like someone might steal their stuff.

Katniss tries to nock an arrow on the string but her hand is shaking and the bow nearly falls out of her grip. She looks like she’s about to throw up when the string comes near her nose. The first Career to reach her is Peeta, who halts in his step with a spear in hand. He stares at Katniss trying to ready her bow to shoot and drops the spear like it just burned him.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses at her, but Apollo isn’t sure Katniss understands him. “Are you mad? Get up! Get up!” 

Peeta has to pick up the spear again and poke her with the shaft until she gets up on her feet, and push her towards the trees. Behind him, Cato fumbles and slashes through the greenery. The sight of him convinces Katniss to do as Peeta says and make a run for it, albeit on shaky legs. Peeta turns around to face Cato. Cato looks confused for a second before lunging at Peeta, who manages to block his sword with the spear. 

The fight between them is not elegant, it’s clumsy, which seems to be today’s theme, but Cato manages to land a deep cut into Peeta’s left thigh. A gasp escapes Apollo’s lips as Peeta doubles over in pain and barely manages to block the next swing of Cato’s sword. He raises the spear and by some miracle manages to hit Cato in the face with the shaft. Cato stumbles back and Peeta takes the chanse to flee the scene while his opponent tries to stop his nosebleed. 

The two remaining Careers stumble into the scene when Peeta is already out of sight, both delirious from tracker jacker venom. The sight of Cato’s bloodied face seems to terrify them and they stumble over tree roots and discarded weapons when they try to back away from him, back toward their base camp. Once they’re all lost in their own minds, the commentators helpfully comment that it looks like they’ll all be out for a while.

The cut to commercials feels disorienting. One second, Apollo is looking at three teenagers being tormented by their own hallucinations, and the next, his screen is trying to sell him frozen grilled cheese ambrosia. He blinks to regain his thoughts before leaving the live stream to find his daughter on the 3D-map. Katniss has stumbled into a shallow hole padded with dead leaves. She seems to be unresponsive to the world, but she’s far enough away from other tributes to be safe for now. 

Apollo breathes a sigh of relief and puts down the device. He grabs a bagel and leaves the lounge for a moment to himself while the commercials are playing. It’s only the fifth day in the arena, and ten tributes remain. They’re probably not even half way through the games, he thinks as he sits down in his bedroom. For now, his daughter isn’t in immediate danger, but she is stuck under the nightmareish hellscape of her own worst fears.

During the Dark Days, Apollo got a taste of that hellscape. He would have died from the amount of tracker jacker venom if he wasn’t immortal. Instead, the terror made him, for the first time in his immortal life, wish he could die. The civil war had influenced his nightmares. He saw the family he cared about tear itself apart, his mortal children dying by the hands of his beloved siblings who sided with Zeus. Rebel demigods being tortured and killed by their own half siblings on the capitol side. All mixed with every horrid deed he himself had committed through the millennia, and sorrows he’d faced. He relived some of his worst moments, amplified. He saw his trials play out differently. Jason died, but this time it was for nothing, because Meg and Piper could not be saved, or Apollo lost Calligula’s shoes. The Colossus of Nero could not be stopped, and Camp Half Blood was laid in ruins. Apollo saw himself failing to call Diana for help and Tarquin’s army of dead zombies overran Camp Jupiter.

And Percy. Percy turned up in scenes where he originally wasn’t. He was one of the casualties at New Rome. He was an ancient lover Apollo saw die. He died fighting Typhon on the way across the USA. Apollo watched in real time as the horrors of the ongoing war built up a wall between him and Percy that still stand to this day, neither daring to try and cross it, only ever coming to each other’s bed when self-medication isn’t an option, or not enough. 

Before the Dark Days they would hold hands, talk and laugh with each other, go on dates, but after the war, it was like they had both woken up from some dream and found the world to be too cynical and cruel for that sort of happiness. 

When Apollo woke up from the venom induced nightmares, and Percy had been there sitting next to the bed, a part of him had believed that wall had only been part of the hallucinations, but that part of the nightmare seems to still be ongoing.

The door opens and Apollo looks up at Dionysus trying to hand him a drink.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Oops.” Dionysus shrugs. “Here, have a drink.”

“I don’t drink right now.”

“Too bad. You look like you need a drink.”

Dionysus slumps down next to Apollo and downs the drink he just tried to offer Apollo. Apollo gives him a heavy side eye. More than anything, he’d like to chase him out, but knowing Dionysus, as well as anyone could know Dionysus, it would most certainly be a waste of energy.

“I wish I never invented that venom.”

Apollo almost gives himself whiplash as he turns towards Dionysus.

“You’re drunk,” he tells him.

“Yep!” Dionysus downs another drink. "Entirely on purpose, too. That’s the only way to get by these days. Unless you have a good looking twink at your disposal that you can drag to bed whenever you feel like it.”

Great, so now the family drunkard is here to shame Apollo for his complicated relationship with Percy.

“You’re one to talk.”

“What? It’s not like it’s a secret.”

Despite common sense, Apollo grabs the next bottle of alcohol to show up in Dionysus’ hands and places it out of reach. Dionysus blinks. When was the last time anyone had tried to limit his alcohol consumption since his punishment ended? That is generally advised against unless you’re Zeus. Luckily, it seems Apollo surprised him too much to take offense.

“You haven’t thought of checking into a rehab, brother dear?” Apollo asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dionysus bursts out laughing like Apollo just told him the joke of the century.

“You find one and I might actually consider it! Good one, brother!”

“Get out…” Apollo groans as he starts pushing Dionysus towards the door.

“Fine, fine. I’ll leave you.” Dionysus pulled his hands up in surrender. “Just though you might want some company, but with your experience with those wasps. I don’t think we have yet fully seen the extent of what they can do to your mind…” he mutters the last part as Apollo closes the door behind him.

Apollo stays in his room for hours before Demeter comes to fetch him. There is no rule explicitly stating that the godly parents has to stay in the lounge while their kids are in the games, but Zeus could easily take offense if he thinks your absence is some kind of protest. And that offense will be taken out on your kid. He returns just in time to see that Kymopoleia’s daughter’s death has been used as an excuse to bother poor Finnick Odair with another interview. The boy takes it in stride though, Apollo will give credit where credit is due. It’s not Finnick’s fault that the people of the Capital have been lusting after him ever since he won the games. The kind soul beneath the frat boy sex icon still shines through on occasion, like at this moment when he bravely flashes his charming smile at the camera and gives what is essentially the eulogy for this year’s tributes from District 4. He can’t have known that the girl he mentored this year was his cousin, but he speaks of her like she was a little sister. His poetic words are beautiful and completely wasted on the Capital audience…

The following two days passes by in a blur. Apollo won’t be able to recount what happened during those days if anyone decides to quiz him. He spends all his time watching over his daughter. No other tribute stumbles upon her, and the gamemakers don’t send any catastrophes her way, partly because Percy would veto anything targeting a tribute who’s not able to put up some sort of defense, and partly because it wouldn’t make a good show anyway.

On day seven, Katniss’ tracking device shows she’s regaining consciousness. She is rather stiff, and spends the first hours drinking tiny sips of water. Every now and then she smacks her lips, which Apollo assumes is because of the morning breath she must have from being out for days. She munches on some honeysuckle growing near her while trying to get up from her hole. 

Just like the weapons in the Training Center, the bow is not exactly fine tuned for Katniss, but it works well enough in her hands. The next thing on her to do list is to treat her injuries. A natural remedy for the tracker jacker stings grows in the arena, but it seems that Katniss doesn’t remember them, as she tries to use her ointment on them, which has little to no effect.

The live feed catches up on her awakening as she sets a slow pace through the woods. Apollo hears Ceasar Flickerman comment on how at ease Katniss seems with the bow and arrows as she shoots a rabbit. She finds a stream to clean herself up in and refill her bottle. The cameras have no respect for Katniss’ privacy. The feed shows all of Panem how much weight Apollo’s daughter has lost from a week in the arena. Claudius Templesmith thinks it’s a pity how she hasn’t been able to maintain her divine body from the opening parade and has become so bony.

It shouldn’t be surprising to hear such a thing about Katniss. All Capital citizens make such comments about tributes each year, both the male and female, but it makes Apollo’s ichor boil. Katniss has lost more weight than is healthy, and that is reason for concern, but conventional beauty is the least of Apollo’s worries. Claudius Templesmith isn’t worthy of looking Katniss’ way. Apollo wonders if he could possibly convince Percy to allow him to curse the announcer with blindness, then he’d have a really hard time objectifying any teenager.

All freshened up, Katniss follows the stream against the current. She shoots a groosling that she cooks over a fire during the late afternoon. But the meal prep is interrupted by a snap of twigs caused by something not native to the forest. Katniss shoots up and draws her bow aiming at the direction from which the sound came from. The camera shifts angle to show Rue behind one of the trees. Apollo glances at Demeter. She doesn’t look surprised, which must mean she knew where her daughter was already. Apollo wonders if Rue was keeping close to Katniss the entire time. Soon, Katniss realizes who it is and lowers her bow.

“You know, they’re not the only ones who can form alliances,” Katniss calls out.

The lounge goes quiet for a minute. Demeter recovers the quickest. She taps something on her device while the other gods look stunned at their screens. Rue peeks out from her hiding place.

“You want me for an ally?” the young girl asks tenderly.

“Why not? You saved me with those tracker jackers. You’re smart enough to still be alive. And I can’t seem to shake you anyway,” Katniss reasons. “You hungry? Come on then, I’ve had two kills today.”

The little girl steps out slowly. She clearly wanted someone to trust in this arena, and the promise of food naturally sweetened the deal.

“I can fix your stings.”

Rue shows Katniss the remedy she has stored in her bag. She either did that by reflex when she found them because it was necessary to have them at hand in the orchard she used to work at, or she did when she spotted a nest. Apollo isn’t fond of the vague implication that there might be more tracker jacker nests hiding somewhere in this arena. Katniss returns the favor with the burn ointment to treat a burn mark on Rue’s forearm. Rue envies the sponsor gift. She apparently hasn’t been given anything yet.

Apollo would bet a fortune that Demeter has been sponsoring both districts 11 and 12, but the mentors ultimately decide how the money is distributed. Either Thresh has gotten all the sponsor gifts, or their mentors are hoping to save money for when the tributes really need it, and while Rue hasn’t exactly been thriving, she is getting by. Speaking of Thresh, Apollo doesn’t think the live feed has shown him much at all…

“You weren’t joking, about wanting me for an ally?” Rue asks.

“No, I meant it,” Katniss insists, and Apollo hears an almost inaudible sob coming from where Percy sits with his own device.

Apollo knows why Katniss would team up with Rue. He himself sees Prim in Rue, as well as his own adopted little sister, Meg. And Percy probably sees someone in the girl as well, perhaps countless of little demigods that he’s tried to save throughout the years. While the two girls share a meal on the screen, Apollo remembers the meals shared with Meg at Camp Half Blood, the Waystation, Aeithales, and Camp Jupiter. What Apollo wouldn’t give to get to talk and bicker with Meg again, but at the same time he is glad she doesn’t have to see what has become of their world.

The live feed cuts to the studio, where the hosts joke around and comment on today’s events. The tracker jackers slowed things down for a few days, but now they are sure to speed up again. You better stay tuned. Because you definitely have a choice there. Only when the anthem plays does Apollo get a shot at his daughter again. She has set up camp with Rue up in a tree. They’re cuddled up close to keep warmth. 

The scene reminds Apollo of when Katniss and Prim were small. During winter, they would cuddle up in their bed, or he’d tuck them under a blanket together in front of the fire, just like that. And he’d sing for them until they were both asleep and safe in Morpheus’ realm. Seeing Katniss and Rue all huddled up in their sleepingbag, Apollo can’t help but think they could easily have been mistaken for sisters as well.

With the day essentially over in the arena, Apollo goes up to eat something. He doesn’t care to watch the Careers’ slow action or what the other tributes are doing at the moment. The feeling in his chest can only be described as a bittersweet relief. His daughter was safe, and she was no longer alone in the arena, but the awareness that both girls can’t survive has to be pushed far, far back in his mind.

Birch hurries up to him for a comment on his daughter’s new alliance with Rue.

“Two heads are always better than one, and what Rue lacks in size, she clearly makes up for in wit. I’m sure they will prove to be mutually beneficial to each other,” he tells her, then he goes back to his couch to check the current odds and the sponsor budget.

Haymitch has now merged the budget with District 11 because of Rue’s and Katniss’ alliance, though Apollo suspects most of that money is implicitly meant for Thresh rather than Rue. Demeter frowns at her tablet next to him and waves Birch away when she asks for comments. Apollo doesn’t know what she is doing, but he decides not to ask. Having listened in on anything important that might be said by the other gods or the mortal hosts, he skips Thalia’s segment on Hephaestus TV.

These last two days had been uneventful. Coriolanus is questioning how good an idea it was to plant those tracker jacker nests in this arena. The two deaths the insects had caused had been overshadowed by how slow the aftermath had been to watch. Seneca Crane is insisting that the games are sure to pick up now when the venom has worn off, which the imbecile better hope for.

Yes, I’m surprised as well over those pesky insects. I thought you didn’t like mutants used in the war, Cori.

Coriolanus keeps reading through his paperwork. The visitor behind him won’t leave, as always. He feels the presence behind him tuck a strand of hair behind his ear and has to resist the shudder that runs through his spine.

What about those Jabberjays? Remember those? Fascinating creatures, don’t you think? Have you ever heard a jabberjay deliver a message? You were so young when the war ended I wouldn’t be surprised if you never got the chance.

The correction is firmly swallowed. The entity gets no reactions from him, and he has indeed never heard a jabberjay. He reads the same line three more times, waiting for his visitor to get bored and leave.

You’re sweating, Cori.

Coriolanus makes a final attempt to read through the document but fails miserably. Whatever it is trying to convey will have to wait for the following day.

Chapter Text

The morning of the 8th day in the arena starts with 10 tributes becoming 9 when Eubouleus’ son from District 10 dies at Cato’s hand, or rather sword. Apollo can’t help but wonder over the potential irony, ten tributes until the boy from 10 died… He doesn’t voice any of that thought of course. Eubouleus tells Birch that he thinks his son did well and then he leaves. What more is there to say, really?

Nine tributes remain. When they are down to eight, the TV crew will start their hunt for victims (friends and family of the tributes) to interrogate (interview). Journalists are probably already on their way to the districts to be prepared for when it’s time. Some of them are probably receiving information that they won’t need to go to District 10 and to turn around and go home. Apollo opens the tap showing which tributes remain in real time. Six districts remain, three of which have both tributes remaining. 1, 3, and 5 only have one tribute remaining. The betting pools are currently going wild, with people betting on which tribute will next before they’re down to eight. The most popular candidate is Peeta Mellark, who has managed to stay hidden since his fight with Cato, but is probably in bad condition by now. Rue’s odds have climbed since the day before, people expect she will fare better working with Katniss.

After the hosts have commented on the latest murder, the live feed goes back to the arena. The Careers are riding the high of another kill, but they’re not acting as high and mighty as they did almost a week ago when they had caught Athena’s girl. Perhaps they’ve been a bit humbled now when their numbers have been cut in half, and the tracker jacker venom probably played a part as well. 

They are shown heading back to their camp and the screen switches to Katniss and Rue. One of them, probably Rue, has found breakfast in the form of eggs from whatever bird is roosting nearby. The eggs are eaten raw, along with rabbit leftovers and berries.

“Ready to do it?” Katniss asks when they’re done with breakfast and starts to pack their things.

“Do what?” Rue asks but is clearly ready for whatever it may be.

Katniss has decided to put a target on the Careers’ food supply. While they move, Rue is questioned about everything she’s gathered about the Careers’ base during the brief moments she’s spied on them. Rue has seen the boy from District 3 guard the supplies, but she has not figured out anything about the reactivated land mines. Their discussion and planning cut to Ceasar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith in the studio multiple times. Apollo eventually decides to follow the girls independent of the live stream to be able to follow the uncensored conversation. They’re currently talking about mockingjays.

“I have a few that are my special friends.” Rue beams at Katniss while she explains. “We can sing back and forth for hours. They carry messages for me.”

“What do you mean?” Katniss asks.

She is more than familiar with Percy’s sacred bird. When Apollo used to take her out in the woods, he would sing to the mockingjays all the time for Katniss to hear their melody. Their mimicking abilities are more defined than their mockingbird mothers, but they can’t repeat spoken words like their fathers could.

“I’m usually up highest, so I’m the first to see the flag that signals quitting time.” Rue eagerly tells Katniss. “There’s a special little song I do.” She demonstrates the wordless four note song. “And the mockingjays spread it around the orchard. That’s how everyone knows to knock off. They can be dangerous though, if you get too near their nests. But you can’t blame them for that.”

Apollo has to smile at Rue’s tales of her home life. He imagines that Percy probably appreciates that his birds evidently have become a source of light in people’s lives.

Katniss tries to give the girl her mockingjay pin, after hearing how much the birds mean to her, but Rue refuses the gift. She claims the pin is what made her trust Katniss in the first place, and likes seeing it on her. Apollo understands Rue. Such signs are not as insignificant as cynics tend to claim. Katniss got the pin from a friend who cares for her and wanted her to have some token of home. You don’t get friends like that without being at least halfway decent. And Rue picked up on that seeing the pin. She shows Katniss her own token; a wooden starshaped flower she wears around her neck. A good luck charm that Katniss agrees has worked for her so far.

They spend most of the afternoon gathering wood for fire. They pick specifically branches with leaves, and will visibly smoke when the fire is lit. They prepare two pits, planning for Rue to make a third. Then they divide their supplies between them. Katniss insists that Rue takes most of it, claiming she can steal some from the Careers’ supplies before she destroys the rest.

When the girls part ways with a hug, Apollo notices that Demeter isn’t following the live feed either, and seems to have only half followed the plan being set in action.

“What are you doing?” Apollo asks in a low voice.

“Just some planning.” Demeter waves him off.

Apollo supposes that makes sense. Nature and greenery and agriculture doesn’t stop just because 24 kids are thrown into a death tournament. Nobody’s jobs really stop. All gods present in this lounge are also present elsewhere because tasks such as driving the sun chariot across the sky simply can’t wait for you to watch your kid die. But it is a bit surprising that the part of Demeter that’s sitting next to him is planning out work, and not some other part of her in District 7, 9, or 11. But who is Apollo to judge if work is how Demeter deals with her emotions, even though he has mostly been under the impression that she deals with her emotions by very noticeably NOT working, like with the whole ordeal with Persephone and Hades and some pomegranate seeds.

While Katniss steers her steps toward the cornucopia where the Careers have their camp, Apollo figures he might as well switch back to the live feed coverage. The gamemakers won’t have much reason to censor that, on the contrary, they will probably want to capture every moment of how it goes down. He glances at Percy, who is preoccupied with his own tablet. He is probably preparing for the upcoming special featuring of the final eight tributes and their families. If one more tribute dies today, those will be shown tonight. A deep frown creases his eyebrows. Apollo considers this rather normal. Not all tributes have families, or even friends. Percy has once confided in him how devastated he always feels, scrambling to put together a worthy segment of orphaned tributes who seemingly has no one who gives a dam whether they live or die. There is always at least one tribute he has such trouble with, to varying degrees.

Katniss reaches the copse near the cornucopia that Rue directed her to and takes a moment to observe the Careers’ camp. All four remaining Careers, including Hephaestus’ son, are there, clearly visible from her angle. Apollo can see clearly that the Careers have fared worse from the tracker jackers compared to Katniss. They have yet to have the good sense to remove the stingers, and have evidently not found any effective remedy among their stocked supplies. Maybe there is none, or maybe they don’t want to look through their supplies too thoroughly in fear of some item accidentally falling and setting off a mine. Apollo had heard Hephaestus muttering the other day on the way back to his room that the contraption is an accident waiting to happen, and Apollo agrees. If products were piled like that in a workplace, it would be a clear OSHA violation, if those regulations had still been in effect, and that’s without the hidden mines.

The hosts are sitting in their studio, ecstatic to theorise whether or not Katniss will be able to circumvent the trap. If she will figure out that the ground is mined, or just that some sort of trap of unknown nature is set up, and would that be enough to keep her from blowing up in bits? The audience is shown a map of where each mine has been placed, with a negligible margin of error. The ground has been dug up to place the mines, meaning that you could in theory figure out a safe path to the stacked supplies if you know what to look for.

“Which," Claudius Templesmith reminds everyone, “one of our tributes has already put into practice!”

They show a clip from about two days ago, when Hermes’ daughter took a trip through the mine field with small careful steps, as if Toothless the dragon had been drawing incoherent lines on the ground. She had reached the pile and gathered a few items in her bag, before leaving and the Careers had been none the wiser.

Katniss stays put, observing the supplies, most likely pondering over what invisible threat is luring around the Careers’ supplies. Then the smoke rises from the first fire. Cato shouts out and the group gathers the weapons for the hunt. Then they begin to argue whether or not Hephaestus' son should come with them. He has stayed put up until now, which makes it odd in Apollo’s mind that they would now supposedly need him in the woods.

“His job’s done here anyway. No one can touch those supplies,” Cato claims.

Apollo guesses the boy must be hoping someone will try to steal from them. Unattended goods make for good bait after all, and an unwitting tribute could very well die trying, which would mean less job for the Careers. Possibly, who can say for sure what’s going on in the heads of Ares’ kids? Mithras’ son raises the question of Peeta, who they know, also knows about the mines, but Cato brushes him off and throws a spear to Hephaestus’ son. With that, the discussion is over and the Careers head for the woods.

Katniss doesn’t move for about half an hour, trying to figure out what the pile of supplies is hiding. She must have heard the loud discussion, so now she knows for sure that it is some sort of trap, but not what specifically. She makes a move to stand up when something else catches her attention. Hermes sits upright on his couch. It’s his daughter who has just emerged, heading for the supplies when she is sure the coast is clear. She repeats the same dance she has done before when she approaches the stuff, but one jump is miscalculated and she falls forward on all four. She squeals and everyone in the lounge holds their breath. But she got lucky. She regains her composure and moves forward. Just like before she gathers a handful of everything she can fit into her bag without raising suspicion and then she repeats the deadly dance away from the pile and then she is gone.

Katniss has followed her movements, having her suspicions confirmed, and a bit more clues as to what is going on.

“It’s mined,” she whispers so low that the microphones have a hard time picking it up.

She slips out of the bushes to a nearby metal plate that the tributes stand on at the start of the game. She studies the ground around it and then looks back to the pile of stuff. Now she knows. But what can she do about it?

Apollo ponders over how he would have solved a puzzle like this. The arrangement leaves little to no margin of error. You can replicate the movements that Hermes’ daughter followed if you want to reach some of it and leave the rest untouched, but you can’t get rid of all of it, as Katniss plans, without setting off some of the mines and killing you. You could take multiple trips back and forth to empty out the pile, but that would take too much time. The opponents would return, and with so many trips you’re bound to misstep at some point.

Somewhere in the woods, Rue has now started the second fire. Time is ticking.

If you can’t go near the pile, it has to be removed from afar. The mines could then work in your favour. One mine might not do much damage to the pile itself, but if you could set off a bunch of them, the multiplied explosion might suffice. The problem you would face then is how you would set off enough mines at the same time without getting too close. The preferred option would be to throw something into the minefield that weighs enough to activate the mines. If he is allowed to use divine strength, Apollo could certainly send a rain of extra heavy iron arrows at once. The arrows would have to land at exactly the right place, but with his skills as the god of archery, it would be possible.

Katniss can’t shoot that many arrows at once though, and her arrows would probably be too light weight anyway. But she seems to have come up with an alternative idea. She picks out three arrows and moves to shoot. One arrow tears through the fabric of a burlap bag of apples, near the top of the bag, that doesn’t help much. The second widens it enough to leave one apple about to fall out. The third rips the bag wide open. The apples fall, and Katniss is thrown back by the explosion.

Katniss’ backpack and quiver does little to soften the blow. A bit disoriented, she manages to hide her face with her arms as more explosions occur and debris falls around her. When the explosions have stopped, she manages to somewhat catch her breath and roll to the side to see the extent of the damage. Practically all of the Careers’ riches have gone up in smoke.

The hosts are going wild at the success and replays the explosion over and over from different angles and in slow motion. One of them, Templesmith or Flickerman, says that the Careers won’t be happy when they see this. Katniss, who has realized this too, tries to stand but falls after a few steps. She holds a hand to her left ear that’s bleeding still. The medic in Apollo is sure her hearing has suffered serious damage, and evidently her balance, but she doesn’t give herself time to bemoan that. She just pulls up her hood and then slowly, very slowly, crawls toward the copse she hid in before. Three stray mines go off, one of which knocks her to the ground, but she reaches safety in the nick of time.

Apollo doesn’t dare to relax just yet, as the Careers sprint out onto the plain. Cato’s following tantrum is almost comical. He bangs his fists in the ground and pulls on his hair.

“Ouph! someone hasn’t warned him about baldness!” Hermes jokes, whose daughter is not currently in danger of discovery.

Ares growls at him. Unfortunately for the god of war, Birch manages to capture his sour face on camera. He will soon be picked on for being a sour loser. 

Hephaestus’ son gives the go ahead to approach and the Careers try to find something to scavenge from the wreckage. Cato kicks at whatever damaged goods come within reach. Soon he turns to the boy from District 3 to take out his anger on, the boy starts to run, but Cato quickly catches him and breaks his neck.

And so they were eight, Apollo thinks.

Hephaestus sighs and stands up. He silently leaves the room while the audio of the Careers’ argument plays through the speaker.

Cato wants to hunt down the guilty tribute, but his allies successfully convince him that whoever set off the mines must have died. Apollo breathes a sigh of relief when the Careers instead head towards the lake to allow the hovercraft to retrieve the body of Hephaestus’ son.

The sun goes down, and the anthem plays to the recap of the two deaths of the day. The Careers will now know that the culprit survived. Apollo doesn’t see their reaction though. The special featuring of the eight remaining tributes starts right after the anthem.

The Muse of Comedy shows up on his device. As the godly host of the streaming, on Hephaestus TV, this is one of her segments.

“Such an eventful day we’ve had, all my gods and godlings!” she announces to her studio crowd. “But, I hope you’re not tuning out just yet, dear viewers, because the time has come to get to know our eight final tributes in the 74:th Hunger Games!”

The crowd cheers and yells out the names of their favourites.

“First of all, the son of Mithras, Marvel from District 1!”

A headshot of Marvel is shown and cheers and boos are heard from the crowd. Apollo barely listens to the account of the Career tributes’ families and current scores. All friends and families of the Careers believe in a high chanse that their tribute, of all, will be the victor. Some Careers seem to have no life outside of Hunger Games training, at least not that is shared by the families on screen. After the interviews recorded in the districts, Thalia gives the word to the godly parent to share some thoughts on their kid. Mithras and Ares are both expecting their sons to win, that might be problematic… and Nemesis says something about old vengeance.

The segment about Hermes' daughter passes by with Apollo not really learning much about her. Hermes praises his daughter’s wits, more specifically how she has been able to get by through stealing without anyone noticing.

Thresh’s family is made up of a grandmother and a sister. They don’t seem to have any interest in playing nice with the interviewer. Enyo claims that both Thresh and his sister are survivors.

Then Apollo sees Rue’s younger siblings on the screen. The oldest must be about eight or nine, and she can barely hide her contempt at the games. She is not an actor. Demeter tells Birch that Rue is her family’s pride and joy.

Peeta is up next. Apollo can imagine that Percy had a bit of trouble picking between Peeta’s friends, but about three of them make the cut along with his family. Demeter simply states that Peeta has a heart of gold.

And then it’s Katniss’ segment. The first person they try to interview is Gale Hawthorne.This doesn’t surprise Apollo at all, given his daughter’s limited social life. Gale Hawthorne along with Madge Undersee are probably the only people who can say they’re Katniss’ friends.

Gale is not nice and pleasant with the interviewer, quite the opposite. His face seems to hold a permanent frown, and he is not answering many of the questions. He gives the impression that he thinks he is dealing with an idiot, but he is good looking enough to come off as tough and mysterious, rather than just a rude guy. When he is asked what he likes the most about Katniss, he glares at the interviewer until one of his younger siblings, Rory maybe? exclaims that Katniss is awesome, catching the camera’s attention.

“As we have all seen at this point,” the interviewer agrees, relieved. “And your families seem to be thick as thieves. You’re always ready to help each other out, right?”

“We have each other’s backs,” Gale responds. 

His intimidating glare might be some attempt at indicating that some baker son’s crush doesn’t matter because it’s him Katniss belongs to. Capitol people might have started talking about triangle drama after this interview, if not for the bander at the bottom of the screen labeling Gale Hawthorne as Katniss’ cousin. Bad luck on Gale’s side.

The next interview is held at Katniss’ home. Haymitch had apparently given a reporter the address and obviously, they jumped at the chance to get to know the sister Katniss would give her life for. And Prim has understood the assignment. She gives the camera her charming business smile she uses at the Hob when she is selling her cheese. Somehow, she and Astrid manage to dance around Katniss’ illegal hunting occupation. They show the small garden where they grow herbs for their medical remedies, crediting Katniss with having gathered the plant saplings. 

Prim proudly shows off her goat Lady, a birthday gift from her sister, and talks about how she makes goat cheese in her spare time. She gives the crew samples and shows them part of the process and the interviewer seems fascinated to watch. Apollo is fairly sure many Capitol citizens think of their district-made products as being picked up from a field in cardboard boxes, or spit out fully finished from a machine after the press of a button, or that District 4 catches fully filéd salmon. The interviewer looks almost gobsmacked when Prim tells him how long it takes to make one block of cheese. Prim gives him an amused smile, but Apollo can’t stop thinking of how ungrateful and wasteful Capitol citizens are with products like goat cheese.

“Katniss got the word out on the street about my cheese, so I gained a steady base of customers rather quickly,” Prim proudly tells the camera crew. “Of course, trading comes with some necessary bargaining and that took some time to get the hang of, but my sister helped me out a lot with that too. She taught me the true value of a block of cheese.”

“And what is the value of cheese?” the interviewer asks an octave lower than his usual voice, almost like Prim is about to reveal the secret of life, the universe and everything.

It would have been funny if Prim told him it was 42, but almost no mortal in this time would get the joke. The only family Apollo can think of that might have read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is the Heavensbees.

“Well, one block of cheese requires multiple days of work, and plenty of milk that I have to collect. But once it’s done, it can enrich many meals for your family. If you want to trade with me, I’d be interested in what you have that could enrich many meals for my family.”

Prim keeps her pleasant business smile and raises her eyebrows at the interviewer, urging him to think of what he might have. He digs into his pockets and finds some money that Prim graciously accepts in exchange for her cheese. Some of the camera crew has some money in their pockets as well, and she sells three more cheeses she had stored for her next trip to the market.

“A pleasure to do business with you!” she tells them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Apollo can see Hermes nod in approval at his screen. As god of commerce, Hermes appreciates a good affair. Apollo can’t help but smile a little as well. His clever girl! When Birch points the camera at him, that smile lingers, and he tells the audience that his daughters are smart girls who know how to make good work of an opportunity.

Apparently, Panem has taken a liking to his daughters. When the others starts to head out to their bedrooms for the night, Apollo sees the amount of provided sponsorship money has gone up after the segments, Prim has won people over. Apollo clicks on the list of sponsors, he isn’t sure why he hasn’t thought of doing that until now. The latest sponsor is Aristaeus, who must’ve decided his sisters are worth some help if they can appreciate the art of cheese making. Most other sponsors are rich citizens of the Capitol, not the ultra wealthy oligarchs, but people with enough money to spare, and like underdogs. A few gods have sponsored District 12 as well, but if they’re not using aliases, that probably means they’re hoping to cash in some sort of favor from Apollo or Demeter, or both, down the road. Apollo plans on pretending he never paid attention to who sponsored his daughter.  

One sponsor comes from the district. Apollo can’t place the name Sae at first, before he remembers it must be Greasy Sae, the Greasy part would of course not be part of her legal name, and Apollo has rarely heard her using her surname, even though she surely has one. Judging from the amount, she can’t have sponsored Katniss and Peeta on her own. She must have gathered multiple donors to pull up the money, possibly outside the black market network as well. It makes Apollo a bit teary eyed, to see that the people of District 12 must not only be hoping, but believing that Katniss will be able to return.

He has to turn off the tablet and leave before Birch gets a chance to film his face.

The segments from the remaining districts are mindnumbingly dull and it’s almost impressive that the hosts in the studio manage to pretend otherwise, but they are properly done and researched. The segment of the girl from District 5 leaves a lot to be desired, but that girl is not likely to last once she can no longer run away. She no longer has a food supply to rely on, after all. Coriolanus lays the files gathered from that segment to the side.

The files for the girl from District 11 will hardly come to use either. That alliance might protect her for a while, but it will never be enough to win. From what little of the information on the girl that Coriolanus reads, she has only been a distraction for the orchard workers around her regardless.

Her district partner is of more interest. The boy has not been broadcasted on the screen much, but as per Coriolanus’ instructions, the Gamemakers keep an eye on him. When they can. Apparently, that field is so thick with weeds that it obscures the view of the cameras. It’s evident that their excitement over arena designs get in the way of practicality more often than not. They know where the boy is, of course, but since he hasn’t engaged in combat much, he is evidently up to something else.

Such neat little files you’ve gathered there, Corio. I remember back in the days when your precious regime didn’t bother to catalogue the names of the participating tributes. Seems a bit meek, still, to only do such research on eight tributes each year though.

The freezing cold hand on his shoulder causes Coriolanus to jump up in his seat like it was an electric chair. He can’t stop the gasp leaving his lips in his moment of panic. The entity haunting him has never touched him so blatantly before now. When moving bits of his hair, or even during the incident with the napkin, there was never any skin on skin contact. Calling it cold though doesn’t suffice. It’s more akin to the liquid nitrogen that you can’t touch with your bare hands.

Coriolanus hastily wraps his bathrobe tighter around him, trying to keep the pretense that it simply came undone and it’s not an attempt to cover the area of his shoulder that still feels like the tissue has frozen solid.

Liquid nitrogen. 

The entity laughs.

You’ve always been so full of hyperboles, Corio. You don’t actually think I would ever harm you in such a way, do you?

Coriolanus picks up the next couple of files. They feel colder in his hand than they did a moment ago. He had crossed out the name Baird in the mapped out family tree when he first looked at it, and after some thought, he now crosses out the other names of deceased as well. They don’t matter any more, only the living is of any use.

Don’t worry, Coriolanus. My plans for you still hold. You might as well burn those documents, though. We both know their real purpose, after all. 

The chilling breath is right next to his ear before the ghost disappears.