Holding on and Letting Go [Kay] ~Embryze

Through each regret and each goodbye
was a mistake too great to hide

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The office of President Snow was so large an ornate, that Julian would not have been surprised if perhaps his entire home in Victor’s Village might fit inside. If not, it would certainly be damn near close. Julian had been escorted in just a few minutes prior by the forever-silent servants in red. He now sat fidgeting in one of the rigid chairs in front of the lavish mahogany desk. He caught his reflection in one of the mirrored walls of the room and ran a finger through his wavy blonde locks, delicately placing the strand into it’s proper place that Cream had intended it to be.

He’d made sure to wake up early and have his former stylist help him properly prepare for this impromptu, yet dire meeting with the most powerful man in the nation. He would be asking for something most people wouldn’t even consider in their dizziest daydreams. However, with Elon’s tragic demise in the Arena just the day before, Julian was desperate. He was devastated at the lost of the boy who had become his only remaining confidant, but even more so, he couldn’t bare the idea of Mace’s suffering. Whether he fought it or not, Julian knew heart had truly come to belong to Mace, yet also knew he could not be the one to console him…unless—CLICK. The golden doorknob of the giant oak doors turned slowly, and Julian quickly rose to properly greet Coriolanus Snow.

Julian smiled brightly, putting on the charming façade he had been raised to by his District One mother. It was a rare sight these days, but the occasion certainly called for it, and certainly no less could be given to the President.

“Hello, Mr. Bryze, it is good to see you again,” said Snow as he waved away his trail of Capitol attendants. The ones that had been on his heels and entered behind the man quickly scattered and shut the door behind them. The click of the latch echoed throughout the large space.

“You too, sir,” Julian said with glittering eyes, giving a slight bow of his head. The president made his way to the lush, leather chair that was engraved with roses behind the desk. His footsteps were precise and were far too audible in the cold silence between the youngest Victor and one of the few people in Panem deadlier than himself.

“Please sit,” President Snow began, taking his seat and leaning forward into his desk. His pursed lip smile sent a chill down Julian’s spine, but he retained his innocent, friendly grin as he returned to his seat. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and wondered for a moment whether he should just begin into his proposal or whether he should wait to be asked. President Snow answered for him however. “So Julian, do tell me what I can do for the prized Victor of our latest Quell?”

Julian felt some of the tension in his shoulders relax. Perhaps this would not be so bad after all? Snow did of course love his Career Districts. They always made for the most exemplary tributes and Victors. Then again… the proposition did involve the Outliers… and those Districts were certainly not in the President’s favor. With a deep breath and his forced smile, Julian worked up his nerves to ask. Besides, how much worse could this be than being sent in a fight to the death with twenty-three other children?

“Well,” the little blonde began after clearing his throat. “I know that inter-District travel is rather strictly forbidden… but as you know, my mother was allowed to move to District Two to be with my father. I also know that they were two of the most celebrated Victors of their day… but, you see… I know it’s a long shot sir, but is there any way at all… I know he’s not exactly your favorite person, sir, and I know he can be difficult, but … well Mace Emberstatt and I…”

President Snow raised a hand to silence the bumbling Career Victor. Julian felt his stomach drop and his face grow heated with blush. He was mortified. He knew what Snow expected of him… what his reputation was, and yet here he was, stuttering over a few stupid sentences. Julian Bryze was supposed to be powerful, to invoke fear in those he opposed. He was certainly not supposed to be losing his cool over an unruly victor from District Ten.

“Say no more,” came a knowing voice from in front of him. President Snow had not stopped his eerie smile, and even Julian Bryze felt small under the man’s stare. “I think I might have a deal that will give each of us something we want, Mr. Bryze.” His collagen filled lips curled even higher upward as he placed his hands entwined into one fist upon his desk.

Julian could feel his heart flutter to life and his eyes brighten as he looked back at Snow in what had to have been shock. “Really?” He asked before he could catch himself. That was of course a mistake as situations like these go. Julian threw his own bargaining chips away with that one simple, overly enthusiastic word, and President Snow had Julian Bryze exactly where he wanted him.

Does anybody really know?
If it’s the end of our beginning,
A cry, a rush from one breath
is all we’re waiting for.
Sometimes the one we’re taking
Changes every one before

After some length of negotiating with President Snow (although it was far more of the President telling Julian exactly how things would be), a deal was at last struck. For half of every year, Julian Bryze would be granted access to District Ten to stay and live with Mace. From the Games to the Victory Tour, he would spend his time in the fields of this foreign land of livestock. From the Victory Tour to the Games however he would be required to return home, with or without Mace and be required to train and condition what Snow made clear should be his successors. The implications of what should come to pass should Julian not succeed in producing further Victors for one of Snow’s favorite Districts… well, they weren’t pretty.

Worse yet of course was the actual price of this deal. The cost weighed heavily upon Julian’s mind as he was escorted down the hall and out of the building. He was let into a large, shiny black car, like he had been so many times now in the Capitol, that would take him back to the training complex. He knew he couldn’t bring himself to tell Mace what exactly he’d done to get this deal… and with that thought, his heart dropped. What would he do if Mace didn’t want him there? What if he had just sacrificed his last freedom for a boy—no, a man who truly no longer wanted him? This had been Julian’s first truly selfless act and in his haste, it may have all been in vain.

As soon as the car stopped at his destination, Julian bolted from the car and into the building. He ignored the several calls of “That’s Julian Bryze!” and “Hey, Julian!” from the people he did not know, nor cared to know. His feet did not stop running at the elevator, because as fast as it may be, he could not wait… or perhaps it was the Career inside him that made him run up the ten flights of emergency stairs to the tenth floor where Mace’s apartment resided. Once in front of the apartment doors however, Julian froze. His breathing was heavy and a bead of sweat tickled the side of his face as he stood gathering his thoughts. Even for one as in shape as this victor of victors, sprinting up ten flights of stairs could not leave him entirely unscathed.

Julian bit on his lower lip for a moment, as the reality of this moment crashed in upon him. If Mace said no… if Mace truly didn’t want him, then he would—Julian’s eyes lit up as the door swung open. Standing in the large metal frame was a woman he recognized solely as the District Ten escort. He vaguely remember her name being something edible… Pickle, perhaps? He’d hardly taken note of anyone working for the lower Districts, but he was sure Mace or Elon had mentioned her at least once. She smiled at him a little too empathetically for his taste as continued to pant silently.

“I thought I heard someone coming! I didn’t realize you’d be coming to visit us, Julian! I’m Olive, what a pleasure to meet you at last,” she said reaching forward to shake his hand. Unsmilingly, Julian swallowed back the lump in his throat before extending his own arm to return her gesture. “Oh please, do come in!” With that, she gently pulled him into the apartment nearly identical to his own on the second floor. “Oh Ma-aaace,” her thick Capitol accent was particularly evident in the sing-songy way she called out to him. “You have a visitor!” She smiled warmly at Julian who, by the empathetic expression on her face, must have been showing his worry. This entire trip to the Capitol had left him a little too unraveled to maintain his cold mask. Olive pointed down the hallway to the living area with the large television that the District Teams would often watch the Games from when in their own suites. “He’s in there, go on dear.”

At the notion of being called “dear” by this woman, Julian mustered up a quick but icy glare to shoot at her before leaving. He could see her realize her mistake and when her expression seemed apologetic enough, he made his way to the next room. He could see the back of Mace’s head upon the couch as he entered and his stomach did an internal backflip. He bit down upon his lower lip hard to ground himself. Even the site of Mace in this moment of so much uncertainty and vulnerability threatened to unnerve Julian to the point of tears. If Mace didn’t want him—well, then Julian would be alone just as he kept telling himself he deserved.

Julian stood silent for a moment, until finally he found his voice. Granted, it was meek for the young man who could kill nearly anyone in this building at will, but behind one simple word was the sincerity of all he felt for the meaty Victor of District Ten. “Mace?”

It's everything you wanted, it's everything you don't
It's one door swinging open and one door swinging closed
Some prayers find an answer
Some prayers never know
We're holding on and letting go

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