dreams don't exist in the broken {arc's victor au's}

Daniel Tate, of all people, did not deserve to be alive still. It was a fact that rooted itself into his mind, though he didn't dare think of it when he was near Owen. Daniel wanted to feel happy whenever he was with Owen. Hell, half of the reason he fought to get home was for Owen and Blanche. They were the most important people in his life and he needed to make sure they didn't escape from it.

Owen was there at the moment, in Daniel's arms as he looked out the window to see the lavish forest and the occasionally dotted neighborhoods. It was an odd thing to think of. He used to live in those neighborhoods just a few months ago, but now he's in one of the most luxurious homes in the entire district. Daniel felt like he didn't deserve it at this point. It was a home that gave warm showers and the most comfortable of beds in exchange for murder.

Even the air tasted of blood.

Owen was someone that Daniel never expected to find joy from. Daniel was scared ever since he got into the arena that he'd not be the best at parenting or wouldn't enjoy it that much. The victor was scared that the cries at night would never escape and the idea of slept would have clawed its way out (like it already hasn't). But it wasn't that bad. It was pretty good, actually. The cries weren't that bad. At least, compared to the blood curdling, last breath screams that filled the arena every day - there was no demon that could conquer that sound.

Owen was someone that Daniel never expected to cry about. Not in the 'i can't stand this anymore, just take him away' kind of cry. It was about Daniel coming home - achieving his goal. Daniel's number one goal in that arena was to get back to Blanche and Owen because he didn't want them to be left alone. To be known as the son and spouse of the male who fell to the Capitol's games.

It was odd to compare Owen's appearance to himself or Blanche at first. It was a kind of normal thing for him though. It felt like a dream of sorts that he had a child and it was with someone that was so special to him, and even more that he lived to see him. He believed that Owen had the eyes of Blanche. The glinted green eyes that Daniel had always loved could be found In Owen. They glinted like hers too, and whenever he saw them he smiled. It's hard to find something to smile at for Daniel anymore. Daniel couldn't figure out what part of Owen looked like him. That was probably the hardest part. To find yourself in such a different person was hard. Maybe it could be the most shy of emotions appearing upon Owen's face on a regular basis just like Daniel. Besides that, the male couldn't pick out the right from wrong when it came to his son.

Maybe it could just be Owen was his home. Blanche was too. There could be the biggest of walls and the warmest of fireplaces. The most extravagant kitchens and the most scenic view from his bedroom windows. It could be the many rooms that Daniel had yet to look at. They could be his home, but they weren't. His hands turn cold, frozen even every time he touches the cane that is next to his bed. Because that tells him that he was not a warrior. He wasn't a fighter. He was as much of a mystery as the next guy.

But that cane was the biggest reminder that he didn't do it alone. People normally praise him for his accomplishments and how well he did. Even though those people normally include the Capitol, he knew that he wasn't alone when he touched that cane or held that book. The victor felt alone every time he saw one of the two because they threw their lives away for him. For him, Daniel Tate, they sacrificed themselves for. Minos Vallanso, Hypatia Anning, and Natalie Brandt were people who he would've died without.

But now they're not here, so what now? He's alone. People figure that every victor is strong enough to take care of themselves the second they get home, but god damn the nights he's spent thrashing around in bed were horrifying ones. He would brink on the edge of insanity by that point. What now? Teach every tribute to do the arena exactly like he did, because he had no fucking idea how to teach them any other way?

He'll treat them like family. Like there is someone cheering on them and rooting for them because if it weren't for Blanche in the back of his mind, he believed the only person rooting for him was death itself. District Seven hasn't had a real mentor for around 20 Games by now. And now that Daniel Tate has taken that spot, that was a hell of a lot of pressure on his back. He won't deny the activity though. He wants to help people. Daniel was only used to one thing and that was swinging an axe or shooting a bow (which he was surprisingly good at). Everyone likes learning a new skill, mentoring could be considered one. Telling right from wrong, how to act around so and so personalities.

But he doesn't want to gain the skill as that. He wants to gain it as telling and showing people why they should keep fighting to come home no matter the situation they're placed in, because Daniel never gave up on returning home to his family. And what came from that? Home. A big old house with the most lavish designs to it.

Does he hate it? No, not at first thought.

But when death has its name wrapped around your throat, you gain to hate the idea of reward for its name.