— juneaux —

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The world was far too bright and loud for my liking, but perhaps it was the shock of my father flinging back the curtains of my window while clanging a pair of pots together as an attempt to wake me from my slumber. I simply groaned, rolling over to press my face deeper into my pillow.

"You have to get up, Junebug," my father insisted, his voice gentle but firm. "You have a visitor."

"Tell Caius to come back later," I grumbled, muffled by the downy feathers smothering my face.

"No can do, kid," Caius replied. "We've got a long day ahead of us."

I whipped my head around, pulling my covers around me with an incredulous look. He was far too smug for my liking as he leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms. I frowned. "I could have been indecent."

Caius shook his head. "We both know you sleep with a dagger under your pillow. You'd never let yourself be caught vulnerable... Not again."

My eyes hardened as they faced the ground, refusing to look back up at Caius or toward the figure that had suddenly made an appearance in the corner of my room. That didn't stop the boy from trying to acquire my attention though.

"Caius is right, Juneaux," Harlan said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've got to get up. You remember what today is, right?"

"The victory tour," I murmured under my breath, glancing over at the boy with a glimmer of false hope. The faint blue outline that defined his figure dashed those hopes while confirming the boy was still simply an illusion.

"Right..." Caius's eyes glanced over toward the corner of the room where my gaze had drifted. A more apparent look of concern had pulled at the wrinkles on my father's face. Caius didn't allow him to question anything though. "The camera crew should be here in just a few hours. We're behind the curve if we're believably meant to get you back into your persona."

"I thought the point of being Queen was that you could do whatever you wanted," I muttered with a scoff that rolled my eyes.

Caius signaled my father and he understood the silent request to leave the room. Only when it was just Caius and myself, his demeanor shifted and his shoulders slumped into the defeated posture I was more familiar with. He kept up a decent character of an upkept individual for the sake of my father and the public eye, but only he and I ever truly got to see behind the other's mask.

"That doesn't mean you can keep poisoning yourself," Caius eventually broke the silence, pulling open my bedside drawer to reveal the poorly hidden syringes. "How many?"

"That's accumulated over time," I defended myself, slamming the drawer shut as if insulted by the lack of privacy rather than being called out. "And just enough to sleep numb."

Caius's eyes drifted back toward the corner with distrust—as if he could see Harlan standing there shaking his head, offering the truth behind my lies. Caius pinched the bridge of his nose and hissed. "Damn it, Juneaux!"

"What?" I poorly feigned innocence.

"You said you were going to cut back two months ago," Caius pointedly replied. "Was it not enough to find you convulsing on the floor, choking on your own tongue?"

"I'm not an addict," I contradicted the implied accusation. "The morphling is just a method to get through the night without hearing their screams. And I'm not the only one giving in to their guilty pleasures."

A guilty look crossed Caius's face, one that he quickly tried to play off. "We're not here to talk about me. To the Capitol, I'm old news. It's you they expect to see still shining like the sun. And one or two drinks is not 'giving in to my guilty pleasure'."

I scoffed. "Oh please, I noticed the stagger in your walk the second you stopped leaning against the door frame. And the way you keep rubbing your temples isn't exactly the subtlest way to cover up a hangover."

"Juneaux..." Harlan gently scolded. "Don't take it out on him."

I sighed, extending a truce. "Look, I'm sorry. But I have it under control."

"No, you don't," Harlan contradicted. If I wasn't so set on proving a point, I might've have shushed him. But Caius couldn't see the boy anymore than I could bring him close and give him the hug I so desperately wished to.

"You asked me to keep you accountable," Caius reminded me.

I gently rolled my eyes and shook my head. "I suggested we keep each other accountable. And that's a two-way street that's uncomfortable to walk in either direction."

Caius slowly nodded in agreement. "Alright... I'm not saying you quit cold turkey. Who knows what state you'd be in at this point if you did? But I'm asking you to cut back, and I'll refrain from day drinking."

"Deal," I lied through my teeth.

Caius sighed. "What a mess, the pair of us."

"Let me change," I requested, less than subtly eyeing the door as if telling Caius to leave the room. "Like you said, we don't have much time before the cameras show up."

Caius begrudgingly agreed, leaving the room with a sigh under his breath as the door closed behind him. I released a sigh of my own, pressing my back against the door before sliding to the ground while pulling my knees up into my chest.

"You need to tell him," Harlan insisted. "He could help you, Juneaux."

"I don't need help," I countered. "I'm fine."

"You haven't needed morphling for months, but you're still taking it," Harlan crossed his arms while his lips downturned with a frown. "You're taking too much and you're hallucinating. You do know I'm not here, right? I died, Juneaux. You need to let me go."

"But what am I supposed to do without you?" I asked, tears pricking the corners of my eyes as they watered. "I already lost Marcus... I can't lose you too. Not when this is all I have left of you."

"You're hurting yourself—"

"I'm fine!" I snapped, squeezing my eyes shut while pulling at my hair.

My head was pounding and the world was started to blur as reality crashed against the walls of my illusions. The image of Harlan flickered and my eyes danced with panic. I stumbled across the room, knocking several worthless trinkets from the top of my dresser as I ran into it. My sense of balance was distorted by the pain while my fingers trembled and fumbled with the small vial hidden at the back of the drawer. I acted on autopilot, wrapping a hair tie around my arm to cut off the circulation and pronounce my veins before clumsily preparing the syringe. I used to hate needles... I still do, but I'd make an exception for the syringes that offered an escape from the hellscape of living life.

The second I cut the hair tie off my arm and the morphling coursed through my veins, my mind returned to the numb cloudy haze which relieved me of my better senses. Perhaps I'd taken a bit more than I should have, but with what I was about to endure, I'd say it was warranted. I blinked to adjust to the perspective shift slowly realizing that Harlan was gone. He always seemed to disappear whenever I took the next dosage. It had been an ongoing battle for months, but I couldn't just give up the one thing that let me see him again. It didn't have to be real, the illusion of his presence was enough... and he wasn't the only one that visited.

"You really shouldn't ignore the kid."

"I'm not ignoring him," I contradicted the newcomer, slowly turning around to face him with a stoic look. "And you don't get to tell me how to live my life, not after taking the easy way out yourself."

His multicolored eyes hardened. One cold like ice, the other warm like fire. "You think what I did was easy? I sacrificed everything for you."

"I didn't ask you to!" I snapped. "And that sacrifice was easily twisted into something else by the Capitol."

"And what if it was something else?" Romulus asked, crossing the room so that we were only inches apart. His hand reached out and lifted my chin to look him in the eyes. It was still disorienting to feel nothing whenever he reached out to me. I could still feel the memory of a pleasant warmth against my lips that felt like a lifetime ago. "Is it truly so impossible to believe that someone could love you?"

"We hardly knew one another," I shook my head, denying his claim.

"And yet..."

"And yet what?" I huffed, crossing my arms and pulling away from him by taking a few steps to the left.

He sighed. "I'm only an extension of your thoughts and memories, Juneaux. So some part of you must have felt something."

"I might have felt something one day," I quietly admitted. "If the circumstances had been different... I think I could have loved you. But it wasn't ever about you."

"It was always about the kid," he agreed. "And I knew that. I never once asked you to put me above him. And we both know that I never will."

I scoffed. "You're dead."

"And yet you keep me around." A coy smirk toyed with his lips as he took a step back to lean against the wall. "I seem to live in your head rent free."

"Call it survivor's guilt," I countered. "Or simply returning the favor. I believe Rena claimed I consumed your thoughts for weeks."

Romulus frowned, playfully clutching an invisible wound. "Low blow."

"You don't have to stick around," I countered, rolling my eyes while my lips remained smiling. "I'm sure there's a dozen other people you could haunt."

"And what kind of guard dog would that make me if I left you in your time of need?" He asked with a soft smile. I felt cold as he looked at me with the same admiration that he had as he lay dying in my arms. My memories flickered between present and past. He seemed to feel my pain as his expression twisted with concern. The moment went unaddressed though as I shook my head. He sighed. "I'll give you a couple of minutes alone. After all, you've got a busy day ahead of you to prepare for."

With the blink of an eye, he was gone and I was left alone to my own devices. I stilled my shaky breath, crossing the room to glance at my own reflection in the surface of the cracked mirror that hung from my wall. To put it kindly: I looked rough. My hair was disheveled and my eyes were filled with a wild madness. The scar that trailed the width of my throat down onto my collarbone served as a constant reminder of all I'd lost... and the number of ways I'd failed. The promises I couldn't keep and the paths walked that were simple not enough in the end. I had my work cut out for me; however, a less than gentle knock on my door countered that thought.

Without waiting for a reply, Cypress and his team of three barged into my room. Their conversation was simple chatter of this season's fashion highlights. Which trends would stick around for the foreseeable future while the other fads would fade into obscurity.

"Juneaux!" Cypress beamed, gently shoving me back into a seated position on my own bed. "Let me look at you! Aren't you just... darling."

I rolled my eyes and snickered. "No need to lie. I know what I look like."

"A hot mess," Cypress agreed, taking a deep breath as if it had taken every inch of restraint to hold back his true opinions. "But don't worry, I can fix it. So sit back and let the artiste get to work."

"Alright," I nodded. "But don't cover up the scar."

Cypress released a long, pained sigh. "Honey, you make my life so difficult. But as her majesty wishes."

The next hour was far from silent. But as Cypress and his assistants primarily spoke to one another, I wasn't expected to join the conversation. And once they had finished—in an impressive amount of time—I almost missed the meaningless chatter. For I knew that once I stepped outside the doors to my room I'd be whisked away once more to the gates of Olympus and paraded around like a prized trophy that was forged through blood and pain. A fate of cruel irony written by the true gods that we mocked with the false assurance that we could escape their wrath.

My father offered me a comforting smile as I walked down the stairs, but it was apparent that he hated this parting just as much if both more than the last as his eyes brimmed with tears.

"It's time," Caius noted what everyone in the room already knew. I simply nodded, knowing that if I tried to speak, I'd likely break down. And the last thing I wanted was a lecture from Cypress for ruining the work he'd done.

As I stepped outside the doors of the building I'd been forced to adopt as my home, several cameras panned in my direction while the Capitol anthem played over the speakers. And like a foreboding omen from the heavens, lightning crackled across the skies followed by a rumbling thunder that shook the ground. A sorrowful reminder that the Queens of the Heavens truly had little power in the outlook of the Olympian regime. I was simply another pawn on the chessboard intended to enhance the aura of the King.

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