A Circus of Eagles [An HG Fanfic]

Politics - Danae

Danae

Mother and Father wear identical grey suits and identical grim faces and they seem to think that I'm not taking this seriously enough.

"Talk to the Steel tributes," Father advises. "They're used to being bodyguards."

Mother says nothing, as she so often does. My parents are a tag-team, not that they'd ever acknowledge it, and they seem to have an instinctive knack of knowing when to take the back seat and let the other go on the offensive. Mother is a watcher, capable of spotting someone's weaknesses in an instant. Father is the talker, the persuasive one. Between them both they've carved a way through the Ferrous sector and into Capitol Center for me. A few years ago there was talk of me perhaps running for President once I got older - translation: once I started to calm down - but that died down over the rebellion and has all but stopped since. I don't care. Being President is a honor, I'm sure, but the thought of being stuck in an office all day scares me. Even if I would get to boss people around. It wouldn’t be worth losing my time roaming around the mountains just to get to tell everybody what to do.

And it’s not like the President can really do that anymore, is it? I’m not even sure what she does apart from represent the Capitol interest in this new Council that the districts have set up, which is pointless when you think about it because if we try and do anything they don’t like they’ll just ask Thirteen to press the big red button. Which sounds like a great threat, but it wasn’t thought through, because to borrow one of their phrases: if we burn, they’ll burn with us.

“Danae, are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Father.”

He steps forwards and tugs at my suit. Yes, really. They made me wear a suit. It bunches up under my arms and the skirt means I can’t move my legs properly, but at least I look smart. Even my hair has been tamed into a neat little roll on the back of my head. It took hours and my scalp still feels raw. Luckily, I can cope with a bit of pain.

“Danae?”

“Yes, Father?”

Mother sighs and places a hand on his shoulder in their usual gesture of comfort. “What he’s telling you may save your life. You should listen.”

“Oh yes, because I’d forgotten that Father is secretly a Victor.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady,” she chides, but it is soft and gentle and nothing like her usual voice of discipline. Father rests a hand on hers and kisses it briefly. When I saw them from the stage they seemed themselves; shrewd, confident, controlled. This close I can see the pain in their eyes and the only blessing is that I know that it’s not my fault, not like the time I broke Grandmamma’s priceless Chunai vase and blamed it on the Avox.

“I was a child once,” Father reminds me. I sigh and roll my eyes out of habit; his stories about his childhood are rarely interesting. Mostly they’re about important people he met. “And believe it or not, Danae, my childhood was like yours. We used to play Hunger Games in the woods as well.”

I start paying attention. I thought nobody knew about that?

He laughs. “Hadn’t it ever occurred to you that people walk through the woods? And children are children…anyway, the point is that I always won.”

“You hid in a corner with a stick and didn’t move for hours.”

“Karo!”

Mother smiles fondly at him and turns to me, her features now softened and almost tender. “Your father was the sneaky one, always hidden away until we got down to the last few. Katerina and I used to cheat and tell the others where he was hiding.”