— 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐱 —

━━━━━━ ☽【❖】☾ ━━━━━━

My eyes shot open and I gasped, choking on the cold air as I inhaled. My chest felt as if it were on fire and my throat burned with each breath that followed. I tried to reach up and massage my throat, but found any movement at all impossible as my wrists were cuffed to the bed.

"I hope you see why that was necessary," Caius's gruff voice greeted me from across the room. He slowly rose from his seat, brushing back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes—in turn revealing the dark circles and evident lack of sleep.

"Were you worried?" I asked. My throat was hoarse and my voice sounded awful, but it was enough to show that I didn't cut myself deep enough. There was little inflection in my tone, and only a flicker of inconvenience flashed onto my dead-panned expression.

"For nine fucking weeks, Juneaux!" Caius snapped, addressing me with an anger really meant for someone else. He took a deep breath to regain his composure and his face softened. "You almost didn't make it."

"They should've let me die," I contradicted.

"And then what?" Caius asked. "Do you know what the districts would have done if there was no winner? We would've had an uprising on our hands!"

"So?" I blinked. "Maybe that's what Panem needs."

"Would you cut that out?" Caius asked, wildly looking around before taking a step forward as if he intended to put a hand over my mouth. "The stuff you were saying in the arena was bad enough. Do you know what they'd do to you if anyone heard it out here?"

"Kill me?" I scoffed. "You already said they couldn't do that."

"You'll wish for death—"

"I already do!" I snapped, interrupting him.

We stared at one another in heated silence mixed with hatred. I looked at him and blamed him for being alive. He was the easiest target as he was the only one around. Meanwhile, he looked at me as if recognizing himself. Pity softened his expression.

I shook my head. "Don't do that. Don't look at me that way."

"I'm sorry..."

"No!" I shouted, yanking at the cuffs that tied me down—breaking the skin around my wrists to form thin red lines. Hot tears burned the sides of my face. "I don't want your pity and I don't want your condolences. I want to die! Let me go back to them... Let me see them just one more time..."

"Romulus is gone."

"It was never about Romulus!" I couldn't stop shouting. I was on the verge of hysterics as my face burned with anger. "Sure, we formed a bond of sorts, but it was always about Harlan. It was about saving Harlan and I failed him. I failed them all!"

"You're going to tear open your stitches," Caius warned. He held up a finger before I could interrupt him with some pitiful interjections. "And if you do that, the medics will rush back in. They'll pump your system full of morphling and only wake you up long enough to send you out on stage before knocking you out then shipping you back home to district nine."

I glowered, but there was really nothing I could do about it. My hands were quite literally tied. There was a lull of silence. "How long was I out?"

"You were proclaimed dead for about six minutes before they shocked your heart back into rhythm," Caius explained with a sigh, rubbing his face as if that might clear the exhaustion. "You were rushed into surgery, stitched back up, and kept on a pretty high dose of morphling for a couple of days before they weened you down to a less addicting level. It's almost been a week."

There was a knock on the door. Caius rose from my bedside as if he planned to turn away whoever was at the door. Esmé Rosehart was just much quicker. She opened the door, introducing her annoyingly chipper self to the room—pulling Cypress along behind her. It was hardly the reunion I'd been looking for, but it was almost comforting to see their familiar faces. I say almost because the absence of Harlan only made it that much harder.

"You were splendid, my darling!" Esmé exclaimed. "They'll have your name in lights for all eternity."

"Who?" My brow furrowed.

"The Capitol!" Esmé exclaimed, shocked that I didn't catch her meaning. "Who else?"

"No one that matters," I muttered inaudibly under my breath.

"The doctors said we could remove your bandages," Cypress interjected, pushing his way forward. "So let's see the damage. I need to know what I'm working with tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Caius!" Esmé gaped, smacking my mentor on the arm with a fan that she'd retrieved from her handbag. "What exactly have you told her?"

"It's not like we were actually given any time to ourselves like I requested," Caius countered, his tone teetering on the edge of a threat.

"No matter," Esmé brushed the thought away. "We still have plenty of time."

"Time for what?!" I shouted, asking anyone for an answer.

"Don't raise your voice, my darling," Esmé chastised. "You need to save your strength for tonight."

"The cameras need to capture you at your best during your victory interview with Caesar Flickerman," Cypress agreed, carefully unwrapping the bandages that covered my throat. Cypress tsked and his nose wrinkled with disdain.

Caius rolled his eyes, retrieving a mirror from the bedside table, and held up the reflection to reveal the scar that marred my flesh. It wasn't that bad really. Whatever doctors the Capitol had sent were basically miracle workers as the cut had been fused together, leaving a faint white scar diagonally across my throat down to my shoulder blade.

"Nothing a little makeup can't fix, I suppose," Cypress muttered.

I shook my head. "Please... I'd like it to be visible when I sit down for that interview tonight."

Cypress's brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Yes. It needs to be visible."

Cypress sighed. "If you insist."

Time felt like a blur as I was finally released from my chains and rushed away to be cleaned up for the evening's event. Every inch of my body was scrubbed raw and then waxed until my body was reminiscent of a porcelain doll. The image was fitting as Cypress had painted over my scar with gold to give it a "touch of pizzaz" as he claimed.

I was fitted into a sleek royal blue gown with gold accents. A headdress similar to the one I wore when entering the Capitol for the first time—the one that looked like golden sun spokes—was placed onto my head. Finally a short cape shawl made of peacock feathers was draped over my shoulders.

"I hardly look like I'm from district nine," I commented on my appearance, looking myself over in the mirror.

"That's because we're going for an entirely different look," Cypress replied, a smug expression—proud of his own work—rested in his face. "You haven't heard what they've been calling you, have you?"

"No..." I eyed him suspiciously. "What have they been calling me?"

"You'll see." His eyes lit up with delight as he ushered me forward, escorting me from the room.

Esmé gasped as she and Caius turned the corner, covering her mouth as tears formed in her eyes. "You look like royalty, my darling."

I glanced over at Caius. Whatever tension was between us previously had faded to an empathetic understanding. No one else in that room could possibly know the physical, emotional, and psychological torment that we'd endured. No game may have been the same, but the end results were pretty damn similar.

"You look good, kid." Caius nodded, agreeing with Esmé's sentiment. He sighed, glancing at the ground before meeting my eyes with approval. "Show 'em the fire."

I nodded, a glimmer of appreciation showing through the cracks in my masked held together by metaphorical glue. It was time to face the lights and tear down the old gods so the new could rise up and usurp them.

The stage lights were bright and the audience was loud. It was all overwhelming, I almost found myself lost on the vast stage.

"Juneaux!" Caesar called out to me. "Over here!"

The audience laughed and for a moment I played along with their games. I took another step toward the end of the stage, curtsied, and then made my way over to Caesar. The crowd went wild, whistling and cheering with delight. It took Caesar five minutes of program time and a commercial break to quiet them down.

"It's been a wild nine weeks," Caesar announced, turning to focus on me, "A rollercoaster of emotions for all of us. Now I hardly think it will do it justice, but we've put together a highlight reel of the seventy-second games. Let's take a look and then hear from our victor herself."

The audience cheered and the tape began to roll. Unlike most tribute reels, this one began with my entrance during the tribute parade. It flashed to the moment my perfect score had been announced, and then jumped into the action of the bloodbath.

My stomach clenched as I watched the first four tributes be cut down without mercy. I hardly recognized Romulus as his wild multi-colored eyes danced across the screen while the career alliance whooped with delight. Most of the first few weeks were skipped over: only stopping to reflect when a tribute died or almost died. Chills shot down my spine as I relived drowning in the underground cavern. My hands clenched as I watched myself perform CPR, saving Rex's life.

I bit back on my tongue to save face. Knowing that if I let even a single tear slip, I'd hear an earful from Cypress later about ruining his work. I wasn't even watching the reel anymore, but the memories of my time in that arena and all the friends that I'd lost. By the time I focused back to the present, the recap had finished: ending on the kiss Romulus and I shared before he ended his life... Completely ignoring the fact that I'd tried to take my own moments after.

The audience clapped and cheered. Caesar didn't let them go on for too long though. Recognizing that if he did, he might never regain control of the room.

"Well how about that?" Caesar rhetorically asked. "Wasn't that impressive? Now I could commentate on these games for hours, but we aren't here to listen to me—Well not just me anyway."

The audience laughed. I missed the moment, still frozen while my still-beating heart clenched.

"So tell us, Juneaux, how does it feel to be the victor of the seventy-second hunger games?" Caesar asked.

"I can hardly believe it," I admitted. "It doesn't feel real. And now that I'm out of the frigid cold and the blistering heat... well, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself now."

"Why you get to sit back on your throne and relax," Caesar replied as if the answer should have been obvious. "A fate befitting a queen."

"They're still calling me that?" I asked, my nose wrinkling playfully. "I thought I'd surely have grown out of the nicknames... though I hear there's a new one floating around?"

Caesar eagerly nodded his head. "You haven't heard? The Capitol has flocked to the streets crying out for the reign of Juno Regina: Queen of the Heavens."

"Juno Regina?" The name tasted sour in the back of my throat.

Caesar nodded. "After the Roman goddess. Queen of Olympus, and wife of mighty Jupiter."

"And who might Jupiter be?" I questioned, almost pointedly.

Caesar sighed, and the audience sighed sympathetically with him. "I know many of us had hoped it would be the young Romulus Lovera. Your chemistry throughout the games was unmatched."

The audience cheered, almost as if there was a sign egging them on. My nose wrinkled with distaste at the whistles and whoops that echoed around the room. My expression went unnoticed though as Caesar continued to rile up the crowd.

"Though there were some who were rooting for Rex from District Eleven," Caesar noted and the audience went wild once more.

My jaw clenched, mixed emotions flooding my system. There were so many fond memories soiled by his final, unforgivable act.

"People were starting to consider the three of you a modern Mars, Venus, and Vulcan," Caesar added, winking for effect. "Though maybe the title of two goddesses would have been far too powerful. Was it a strategy? Getting two young men smitten or did you start to fall in love with them yourself?"

"Not that kind of love," I whispered under my breath. My lip quivered. I was struggling to keep my composure. Makeup be damned, I was allowed to be vulnerable. These people needed something real in their lives. I allowed a single tear to fall. "My strategy was to preserve the love of a brother and sister. I went into those games ready to die for a little boy who deserved to live. But fate is cruel and twisted, and laughs in the face of those seeking redemption. It smothers the light and extinguishes hope when the end of the tunnel appears near."

There was silence. A cough and a whisper here and there, but otherwise silent. Caesar, picking up on the unwanted tension, laughed and clapped and then changed the topic of discussion entirely.

"I see you're sporting peacock tonight," Caesar noted, "A prominent symbol of Juno which compliments your complexion as well. Doesn't she look lovely, folks?"

The audience clapped and cheered, the previous moment all but forgotten. I seethed. They weren't listening. Why weren't they listening?!

I unclasped the capelet from my shoulder, rising from my chair while tossing the garment where I'd once been seating. The air was cool against my golden scar—almost painfully so—but it was worth the reaction I received from the audience. A collective gasp was heard, rushing toward the stage row by row.

"Don't you see?!" I let my rage speak on my behalf. "Don't you understand the destruction that you've caused?! You've murdered twenty-three children and forced me to wear their blood! You tell me I should hold my head high with pride! You've adopted me into your sick, twisted culture like I've passed some rite of passage!"

The stage went dark.

Several peacekeepers rushed out onto the stage, yanking me away while I continued to kick and scream—ignoring the searing pain of my throat.

"Isn't she lovely?" Caesar asked the audience as the lights returned. "A fiery little thing! Poor girl's just exhausted, but she'll be back for her victory tour once she's recovered! Juneaux Kirchoff—or should I say Juno Regina: Queen of the Heavens."

The audience acted as if nothing had gone wrong, cheering like I'd left after giving them the show of a lifetime. The sound of the interview stage faded as I was carried down several winding corridors. It shouldn't have been a surprise that I was returned to the medical chamber that I'd woken up in. I was immediately cuffed to the bed and an IV was placed in my arm that injected a high dosage of morphling into my system.

I fought against the cuffs, still screaming and kicking like a child throwing a tantrum. After all, I still was a child... just one forced to grow up long before I was thrown into that arena.

"You've made quite the impression." The voice that greeted me was deep and cold. I froze, slowly lifting my head to meet the calculating gaze of President Snow. He rose from his chair, pacing before my bed. He paused for a moment, reaching out a gloved hand to push away a stray ginger curl that had fallen from my bun. "That's better."

"What are you doing here?" My voice was timid, betraying the fear that touched my heart.

"I thought congratulations were in order," President Snow replied. His eyes darkened. "And a warning."

"A warning?" My voice cracked. I blamed the screaming.

"Even the Queen bows before the King," President Snow calmly explained. "You'd be wise to follow that example. Do you know what a queen's purpose is, Miss Kirchoff?"

I slowly shook my head.

"A queen is a distraction for the people," President Snow replied. "She throws parties. She dresses in fancy gowns. She greets the people with a smile. All so the King may continue to discreetly pull the strings that keep everything in order. The Queen convinces the people that they are happy, and so they never think to question the King."

"What does that have to do with me?" I asked. I understood the implication, but I was going to make him spell it out.

"The people may call you Juno Regina," he continued. "They might look at you like a Queen of the Heavens. But I am Jupiter, and not the mortals nor Olympus will be permitted to question their king."

"This sounds like a proposition."

"Keep the people happy and distracted with bliss," President Snow agreed, nodding his head, "and when the turmoil dies down, I'll give you the sweet release of death that you crave."

"And if I refuse?" I asked, my confidence growing.

He made sure to squash it the moment it swelled. He leaned closer, the smell of blood and decay wafting from his mouth. "If you refuse, there are ways within the Capitol to keep you alive for an eternity. There are also ways to persuade you against your will to act on our behalf... most of which are treacherously painful."

"You're a monster," I spat between grit teeth.

He wiped his face, flicking the saliva to the ground. "No, I'm just a man. A man that knows his own reflection when staring into the face of a broken tribute."

There was a bitter silence.

"I see the morphling has kicked in," he noted under his breath. He whistled a reminiscent tune under his breath as he walked toward the door. "My offer will remain when you're in better spirits. Let me know what you decide... the Queen is always welcome in Olympus."

I lost all feeling both physically and emotionally. The opium running through my veins was dizzying and it simply wasn't worth the fight to remain conscious. My vision faded and I slept for days on end. The next time I awoke, I was home in district nine, surrounded by the closest living individuals I had left in this rotten world.

My father sat in his rocking chair beside my bed, clutching my hand as if fearful that I might never wake up. Caius leaned against the board at the end of the bed, bending it slightly as his full weight leaned against it. Esmé looked appalled, covering her mouth with a vibrant red handkerchief that matched the same shade of lipstick painted on her pallid features. It was rare for someone from the Capitol to make a trip so far out into the lower districts, so I was almost touched by her presence. My heart clenched as my gaze drifted to the doorway where a pair of individuals stood. I'd never seen them before in my life, but there was no mistaking them as Harlan's parents. They were the combined spitting image of their son. A painful reminder of what I'd lost.

"Junebug," my father sighed with relief, laughing then crying as he wrapped his arms around me.

"Dad," my voice cracked. My eyes similarly watered as I hugged my father for the first time in almost three months. It was then I noticed the absence of his cane. There was hardly a limp in his stride as he took a step back to look me over. "Dad, what—"

"I had to get stronger," he quietly explained, smiling softly. "I had to get stronger so you'd come back home to me."

A bittersweet laugh escaped my throat as I looked around the room. And what if everything is waiting for you? I'd gotten so used to the idea of the games never ending—that I'd never escape that living hell—and I'd forgotten about what little I had left. Maybe there was a spark leftover from the fire, waiting to be reignited.

"You should rest," Caius interjected, breaking the silence. "You gonna be alright in here alone?"

I slowly nodded my head. "All it took was the reminder that I've still got a few things left to live for."

A soft smile twitched at the corner of his lip. "I'll see you around, kid."

The door closed and I was alone. For a moment, I doubted myself. I considered smothering my face with a pillow or leaping from the window. Then I noticed the sealed envelope on my bedside table and my curiosity got the better of me. I tore open the flap, revealing a dried-bloodstained coin, a golden chain with a sun charm, and a note.

————————————————————————

Hey Kid,

I know it's tough... well, more than tough. What a way with words I've got, right, kid? Esmé probably would've handled this a bit classier, but she doesn't understand the weight of this stuff anyway... so you're stuck with me.

I've been in your shoes. I've tried it all: drugs, liquor, death. None of it can make you forget, it just numbs the pain before making it worse. As for death, you've seen the harm and felt the pain of it. Why inflict that on anyone else? And if all else fails, think about what Harlan would say. Live your life for him, and so that the next version of him doesn't have to walk into that arena alone. The next couple of years are gonna suck. I won't lie. But you won't be alone.

You're never gonna be alone,

Caius.

P.S.: We found the coin buried in your arena clothing pockets and Harlan's folks wanted you to have the necklace. They said Harlan had a silver one with a moon charm. The one they're giving you was the matching set that belonged to his sister. They said they knew he'd want his living sister to have it.

————————————————————————

My eyes watered as I finished reading the note. I folded the paper and placed it back within the envelope before sliding it into the drawer of my bedside table. I then picked up the coin. Although stained with dried blood, it was unmistakably Romulus's coin. He must've slipped it into my pocket before he died... and then there was the necklace.

I almost felt like an imposter, clasping the delicate chain around my neck. I rose from the bed, walking across the room to see how I looked in the cracked mirror in the opposing corner from my bed.

It was a jarring look. The thin chain and sun charm against the white scar carved into my neck. At least I'd never forget how I acquired it... meaning I'd never forget those I lost to reach that point.

"It suits you."

My face paled as I met the warm brown eyes of the boy I'd lost in the reflective surface. I whipped my head around, searching the room for the source of the familiar child's voice. My hopes had risen too soon as I was still utterly alone within the room. However, as I looked back at the mirror, Harlan was resting on my bed from within the reflective world.

"You're not really here."

Harlan slowly shook his head, his blond hair swishing with the motion. He looked at peace—as if he'd never stepped foot in that damn arena. He wore clothing befitting an individual of district nine rather than the layers upon layers of clothing we'd worn as tributes. His skin had more pigment to it and his eyes still held that childlike wonder that had been extinguished sometime over the nine week that we'd fought to survive.

"No, I'm not here," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean I'm not with you."

"You should've been the one to live," I said as if admitting a secret. "You should've been the one to walk away alive."

"But I didn't," Harlan replied. "You did. So now you have to live for me."

"I don't know if I can," I allowed my eyes to drift toward the floor.

"You can do anything, Juneaux," he contradicted. "You're the strongest person I know. There are plenty of people who still need you. Your dad, my parents, even Caius needs you around."

"I don't want to say goodbye."

"There doesn't have to be a goodbye," Harlan said with a soft smile. "I live through you, Juneaux. So don't just live for me. Live for Honey. Live for Otto, Tuck, Webb, and Emory. Live for Romulus. Even live for Rex—"

"I can't—"

"He met his fate, let him rest in peace," Harlan interrupted. "He wasn't a bad person, just a misguided kid. And above all else, live for yourself. Find someone in this world that gives you peace and allows you to be happy. Live, Juneaux. Live."

I turned around, almost expecting Harlan to be sitting on the edge of my bed. He wasn't. He wasn't in the reflection of the mirror either when I turned back around. He'd never been in this room at all, not really. It had probably just been a morphling trip, but the visit still provided me with enough peace to climb into bed, close my eyes, and sleep with the intention of waking up to live another day.

And for a moment I agreed with the rest of Panem:

Long live the Queen.