throne of glass // flynn & astrid; vt

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I am not sure why there had to be a disaster in Six just a few months after I came home. A thirteen-year-old boy, a threat to the existence of the Capitol’s tyranny? I don’t see why, I have been a good boy throughout this whole tour... Grandpa had been huffing and puffing about it though, his pharmaceutical warehouse was in the exclusion zone, I heard the moans, the mentioning of my name. The glamorous idea of a victor grandson and a bedroom in said victor grandson’s new mansion quicky fell out when his own money-making business depleted for a moment.

So, District Six gets punished because the pre-teen came home. It is not like I am from Eleven. I wonder what Teddy has been doing wrong all these years.

There has been so many faces, and so many names to remember. Ten-minute meetings and quick handshakes. So many handshakes, especially in the Capitol. They must really like grabbing blood-stained hands, but they are quick to fill their palms with hand sanitising gel afterwards. Even my own escort keeps filling mine with the strong stuff, followed by a dollop of moisturiser. It is all so clean but even the stench of the sewage lake still clings onto my nostril hairs amongst all the fruity aromas.

In the Capitol, there is no time to breath. A regimented schedule that cannot go over the minute. I have no say in anything. No say in what I wear. No say in how I smile. I am not allowed to show my teeth. They want me to wear braces and still, the so-called surgeons keep nagging me to accept a new grown ear or at least a prosthetic one. Nope. It is my only visible scar. My only visible reminder of my worst week in existence. The other’s get a gravestone, mine is a void at the side of my head.

Every night ends with a meal. Not a can of sardines but a set menu in a loud restaurant where cutlery clatters and conversations are whispered across the tables. It is one of the gamemakers who I have the pleasure of dining with tonight…great! Astrid, the escort said she is a new one. A rookie in the art of killing teenagers in a fashionable way. I could curse her for everything that happened. For tearing Nanette away from me, for sending Silk Le Roux into our path. For everything. But I have been the goodish boy they have wanted throughout. Astrid is always going to be one of my gamemakers. She is never going to be my friend, but she is always going to be there, every year that I have left.

Champagne fills the chutes besides my head and the bottom of my plate quickly vanishes beneath tiny pieces of fancy foodstuff. Astrid is the first to speak as my eyes follow the different avoxes who present a collection of dishes on silver platters. ”How small did you think I was?” It is not really the best opener, to say I am just barely over five foot tall. The radiation poisoning, thanks to Astrid, has probably stumped any kind of imminent growth spurt. Though the Capitol surgeons reassure me that their out of this world medicines will stop any kind of radiation side-effects. I will get back to them in twenty years’ time…

”Who would you have preferred over me? I doubt many people were putting money on the thirteen year old kid.”Damn that came out without a thought though is obvious, the Lightening Rod Le Roux and Warrior Nanette are my bet. Meathead Revan had the mind and punch for it but the tag of Eleven caused him to leave us prematurely.

”I know it’s not the best question to open with,” Especially not with all the ears and the eyes I can see on me in the restaurant. I am only a kid; I can’t be perfect... ”But whatever let’s put a bullet in the elephant in the room. Tell me. I know nobody in here really wanted me sat in here, snacking on…” I pick up a pink curly, grilled looking meat or fish thing from my plate. Not exactly enjoying its texture between my fingertips. ”…shrimp?”

[kiah]