Chapter Text
Late August was a special time in the Capitol. The games were a party that raged through July and August, and then as the mentors left, the entire city collapsed for a nap. The air conditioner was no longer really needed, but it still ran in her nail stylist’s studio as a symbol of status. Fulvia admired the new soft purple with a small smile. Lilac was all the rage in the Capitol these days, thanks to Tigris identifying it as a principal color for their newest victor, Cecelia.
Fulvia took in the hum of the city as she walked back to the games complex. As much as she loved the games, there was something to be said for the moment they ended, and she became a regular citizen of the Capitol again. Well, as regular as any Cardew could be. At least the press seemed to be leaving her alone. There was plenty else to talk about. Victoria seemed to have a secret Capitol lover, Cecelia was settling into her new life as a victor, and Caesar spent entire talk shows playing the top 5 most shocking moments from the games and wondering if Mags or Woof would finally retire. They wouldn’t, Fulvia knew, but Caesar had to fill the time somehow. And Fulvia sure as hell wouldn’t let the news of Charlemagne’s little affair with Maeve be a talk show topic. She possessed too much respect for Charlemagne’s family for that to happen. She had reviewed the security camera footage after the initial shock had worn off and watched the two enter the control room. Charlemagne hadn’t worn his wedding ring. Fulvia deleted the footage after she made a private copy for herself. She wasn’t sure what motivated her to do it, but something in her gut told her to keep it. Her job was as secure as it could be, but she had heard stories about the game makers in the 30s and 40s and had no desire to be someone who was let go while holding an ace.
She rounded the fountain near the university and lamented that she didn’t have enough time to stop and try the new coffee shop near here. It would be easier as soon as the wrap-up meeting was over, she decided. She would have time for coffee shops and visiting her parents and seeing all her friends from university.
At least today’s meeting would be short. The numbers were back from the statistics office. They had hosted solidly entertaining games. 79% of audiences were pleased with Cecelia and wanted to see more of her. 86% felt that these games had been satisfying. That was excellent, especially considering their victor had taken a nonconventional route to get there. The president was pleased. Crispus had shared the private reports from District Eight with her. Cecelia was adjusting as well as anyone could expect her to. She and her siblings were staying with Woof until she was fully recovered from her arena, but Fulvia had the sense that could take a while. Every Victor had their timeline with these things.
The games complex was eerily silent. Most people were taking their vacation days this week. The stylists, morgue workers, and arena engineers didn’t need to work at all. Laurentio had sent his entire staff home for the week. Fulvia had done the same for everyone except Urban and Cicero. She wasn’t sure what staffing expectations Crispus and Charlemagne were operating with, but she was sure they were using as few people as possible. One more meeting, and then her own time off could start.
“Fulvia!” Crispus waved at her from across the hall. “I’m calling Woof to check in on Cecelia. Do you want to sit in?”
“Uh Yeah.” She raced up the set of steps to Crispus. The duo nearly collapsed into a fit of giggles. Without the crowds here, this place was basically their private home. Two years ago, Gaia’s kids had turned the curtains on the sponsor floor into a jungle gym in the week after the games. This time last year, she had helped Charlemagne’s oldest daughter with her packing list for university. Fulvia showed her new nails to Crispus with a smile.
“Nice. Love the lilac.”
“So does everyone else in the Capitol.” They rounded the corner. During the lead up to the games and the games themselves, there was a certain pressure to walk professionally and to always appear in control. That pressure vanished with the cameras and Fulvia loved it. Cripus dialed the number while Fulvia admired his office.
“Woof! How’s your newest victor holding up? I’ve got Gamemaker Cardew here too, she wanted to say hi.”
“Game makers! It’s good to hear from you. She’s doing great. It’s fun to have kids in the village again.”
“Yeah, Catherine’s younger siblings and her parents have all moved out, haven’t they?” Crispus asked. He flipped open to a page in his datapad. “Talk to me about her house, I know she’s staying with you for now, but does it need any work or any changes?”
“No. The house is great. The extra clothes you had packed were a great addition.”
“Great to hear. How’s her eating, I know it’s early but…”
“She’s eating well and she’s keeping food down.”
“Phenomenal. How about her sleeping, usually there’s more of an adjustment there.”
“Yeah. She hasn’t slept through the night yet. She’s waking up 2-3 times a night.”
“Ah. Not ideal but this is very normal. I can have sleeping pills sent out. Does she want a replica of the knife she had in the games? What’s going to help her feel safe?” Crispus bit his lip and tapped his datapad. The silence felt loud for a minute.
“Look, I’ll tell you this because I know ya already know it. Most of the nightmares aren’t from her arena, she’s scared Sasha and Jacob are next.”
“Well,” Crispus paused. “You know I can’t say anything on that count, but it would be stupid of us to reap the kids that the Capitol has fallen in love with, wouldn’t it? Plus, they’re not exactly on the tesserae list.” Fulvia felt the gears in her brain turn. They might have a solid case for a wrinkle. In past years with similar cases, the gamemakers had just pulled the siblings from the reaping bowl entirely. The intervention was viewed favorably by their staff as reaping the younger siblings would just be unpopular and it created a significantly more stable victor. They could always add the slips back in later. Maybe there could be a miscommunication in eight and Sasha and Jacob’s reaping slips could be deleted entirely, just until they were 16 or so. Fulvia crinkled her pant leg and pointed to one of the wrinkles. She nodded at Crispus. He nodded back. “Woof, tell Cecelia that her family has given enough to Panem. Those kids will not be called to serve before they’re 17, and personally I don’t see them being called at all.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank Cecelia, Sasha, and Jacob. The country fell in love with those kids and people in the Capitol want them to have a happy ending. In exchange, I’ll ask that Cecelia stays a cooperative victor, but I don’t foresee any issues there. Sound good?”
“I’ll talk to her, but I’ll say yes for now.”
“Great. Any thoughts on a victor talent yet? All of you eights seems to go for knitting or sewing or something creative.”
“Ah. No idea there yet.”
“Yep. No worries, I’ll want some ideas before the tour so we can announce it. But as you are no doubt aware, it doesn’t need to be real.”
“Yeah, we’ll think of something.”
“Ok. I’ve got another meeting here soon so I’ll have to hop off. How’s her general pain level? She didn’t have any big injuries in her games, but anything we gave her in recovery has worn off by now.”
“She’s said it’s mostly standard aches and pains. She worked the weaving machines when she was younger, and injuries are pretty common there.”
“Well, honestly it’s a good thing she worked those machines because her agility was a major factor in her victory. If she’s still hurting when you’re here for the tour, we can have one of our doctors take a look at her. I’m surprised we missed whatever it is while she was in recovery.” Woof was silent on the other end. Crispus smiled. “Granted, adrenaline and morphine are mighty combos.”
Fulvia heard Woof sigh on the other end.
“She’s not at the point where she needs morphine again. The last thing the mentor room needs is another drugged up victor.’
“Agreed!” Fulvia added. Crispus laughed.
“Alright. We’re going to need to head out here. Anything else you wanted to flag for us?”
“No. If the siblings are safe for a while, she’ll start sleeping through the night and that’ll be huge.” Fulvia could hear the exhaustion in Woof’s voice. She couldn’t imagine the pressures on him and Catherine right now.
“At least until the tour, but we cross that bridge when we get there.” Crispus swallowed. “Listen, I want you and Catherine to know what a great job you’re doing. Anything you need, please call me. We’re all on Cecelia’s team now.”
“Thanks.” Woof said in a gruff voice.
“No, thank you.” Crispus added. “I’ll talk to you next month, if not before.” He ended the call and leaned back. “I’m glad we were in mutual agreement about the wrinkle.” He said to Fulvia.
“A healthy and stable victor for a few lost reaping slips?” Fulvia asked. “Deal of the century. Anyway, we should get moving. Gaia is expecting us.” Crispus nodded. He stood up and stretched.
“Four more hours then I’m off.” He breathed. Fulvia smiled.
“Let’s get to it.”
The walk to the meeting room was quick. Without associates, press, sponsors, stylists, and victors scattering the complex, it did feel unnaturally quiet.
Gaia greeted the group with a smile.
“One week of freedom, how’s everyone feeling?”
“My digestive system is normal again.” Laurentio sighed. Crispus fought back a laugh. Fulvia did the same. She forced herself to make eye contact with Charlemagne. She didn’t want him to suspect that she knew anything. There could be problems otherwise.
“So glad to hear it. Anyone got big plans for the break?”
“I’m thinking of seeing if my wife and I can take our girls out to Four’s beach resort.” Charlemagne commented. Fulvia felt her stomach knot. Maeve was in four. Would he really be so bold?
“Oh, I love that place,” Gaia replied. “I hope the passes come through in time.”
“My brother and I are going to see some of the arenas from the 40s.” Laurentio answered. “I’m so excited. Those were the arenas that made me want to become a game maker.” Fulvia smiled in agreement. The 40s had been sensational. Every decade of the games took on its own flavor. Some of the associates refered to them as the “Eras” but Fulvia avoided that pool of speculation. There was no faster way to loose confidence than to read the academic work published about what she and her co-workers had done.
“Crispus? Fulvia? What about you guys?”
“My girlfriend and I got passes to go to Four’s resort. We leave tonight, I’m so excited.” Crispus answered. Fulvia grinned at him. Gaia looked to her.
“I’m seeing family.” She answered. Gaia smiled at her.
“Well, I hope everyone is all right with my assistant Plutarch Heavensbee sitting in on this meeting. He’s got the statistics I wanted to go over.”
“Of course.”
“No problem.”
“Excellent, so let’s start with Plutarch. We’ll cover the long-term viability of these games, some logistics for the tour, and I’d like to start brainstorming arena ideas for the 60th.” Gaia nodded at Plutarch. “Take it away.”
Fulvia observed Plutarch. Gaia’s assistant was young for his role. Fulvia remembered him being hired in the associate class two years ago, and Gaia had picked him only a year later as her assistant. There was a part of Fulvia that wondered how he had moved up so quickly, and there was a part of her that knew she shouldn’t ask. Plutarch cleared his throat.
“Thank you, Gaia. I’ve prepared briefing reports for each of you. They can be accessed on your data pads now.” Fulvia nodded along as she pulled up the report. She resisted the urge to make a face when she saw the sold lines of data scrolling across her pad. This would be a snore fest.
“Cecelia is an interesting victor to me. Normally a victor is either active, they earn their kills or they’re passive, they wait to outlast the others- Cecelia was a mix of both. The last time this happened was Haymitch in the 50th.” Fulvia resisted the urge to look at Crispus. Apparently, this would be a history lesson.
“But they are very different victors stylistically,” Gaia commented.
“Exactly. Where people hate Haymitch, they love Cecelia. Look at her numbers. 79% likability, 86% satisfaction- when was the last time we had a tribute put up numbers like this?”
“Everyone likes an underdog,” Fulvia stated the obvious. “It makes the games highly rewatchable.” Plutarch pursed his lips. Why did Fulvia feel like she was back in university again and the teacher was looking for an answer? She leaned forward in her seat. If Plutarch wanted to talk data, he could talk data. But no one knew the data on her victors better than Fulvia Cardew.
“Well, Cecelia worked for her win. She had a little luck along the way, but Haymitch really just used the forcefield.” Laurentio pointed out. The 50th was before their time, but they all knew the stories.
“Not to mention Cecelia is a girl. People like to root for the girls more.” Crispus offered.
“We have no data to back that up,” Fulvia replied. She raised an eyebrow at Crispus. He raised one back. This was a topic they went back and forth on.
“Regardless of if it’s true or not, I believe it can help inform our policy during the games themselves.” Plutarch transitioned. Gaia cocked her head.
“Let’s move on to the thesis of our discussion, Plutarch.” She suggested slowly. Plutarch nodded and took a deep breath. He brought his hands up to begin saying something and then stopped. He glanced back to Gaia. “You said it so eloquently earlier.” She commented. Fulvia heard a degree of coldness in her voice. As if she were back in her uncle’s mansion as a kid, well aware that there was a dynamic she couldn’t explain and would likely never understand. Her stomach knotted.
“We need to think back to the original purpose of the games. One winner offering hope, and 23 tributes offering a reminder of what can happen when the capitol runs out of mercy.” Plutarch explained.
“And in your view, we’ve strayed from that?” Charlemagne asked. He put down his pen and leaned back in his seat. Fulvia felt Crispus go still next to her.
“No. But I don’t think the message is getting to the Districts. The people of five should hate Cecelia. The people of one should hate her. Four and ten shouldn’t be huge fans of hers. The numbers show that they like her. That could be a long-term issue.”
“You are sounding like the president.” Charlemagne laughed. Plutarch shrugged.
“The numbers don’t lie.”
“Numbers can mislead though.” He pointed out. Fulvia nodded. Her eyes stayed on Laurentio and Charlemagne. She felt Crispus move again next to her.
“This is great. I love a talk on why the games matter, but I am looking for the big picture.” He interjected. Fulvia shot him a look of gratitude. Every fall, the department heads of staff judged a competition over at the war college where students were invited to design their own arena and media lines. Young Plutarch’s presentation was rapidly taking on the same structure.
“I worry that the Capitol has a perception that the games are meant to unify us around a worthy victor, so we make the victor likable. That is our error. The purpose of the games is to keep the districts angry with each other. If their shared love for a girl from eight makes them realize that they have something in common, well, that’s a road none of us want to go down.”
Fulvia felt a flash of anger spark across her mind. Plutarch had a point, but he was missing the bigger picture. He was-
“I do agree. Likability is a liability. We can have our people in five stir up trouble when she visits on the tour. Same in one.” Charlemagne suggested. “Four and ten will be harder, but we can try.”
“Do it.” Gaia agreed. “But Plutarch, my point remains. One victor does not a pattern make. We haven’t had a truly likable victor in a while. I appreciate proactivity, but this isn’t a problem yet.”
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Plutarch challenged. “If we nip the problem in the bud now, our jobs are safer.” Fulvia couldn’t make eye contact with any of the other department heads. As an associate and as an assistant, no one at the table was gunning for Plutarch’s job. That meant he was looking at theirs. Fulvia enjoyed a certain degree of envy around her job, but she wasn't ready to retire yet.
“Again, I’m not seeing the problem.” Said Crispus. “We had one likable girl who didn’t get her hands as bloody as Cael or Percy or any of the five boys total who preceded her. The districts are content because an orphan just bought herself and her family a ticket to a new life. A little unity can be a good thing.”
“A little yes, but not too much.” Plutarch sighed. “This is a tough concept to explain.”
“I agree. You told me the polished version earlier and even I’m struggling to follow.” Gaia offered gently. Fulvia bit her lip to hide her grin.
“We all understand that the victors have a degree of power when it comes to public influence in Panem,” She offered. Maybe she could give Plutarch an out. He was clearly in over his head. “But there’s no need to have a conversation about patterns until there’s a pattern. And honestly, it’s too soon to make any calls about her long-term image or likability. Recency bias is too strong.” Fulvia finished gently. This could be a great conversation to have next year when they were debating interventions in the final eight or even podium placements. But now was far too soon.
“You say that, and your nails are painted purple as we speak.” Plutarch waved his fingers at Fulvia. Gaia jerked back in shock and stared at Plutarch. Crispus breathed an almost imperceptible whistle. Fulvia opted not to respond. And then she did.
“It’s lilac. Just like they were gray after Cael won, or blue after Percy, or pink after Victoria, or turquoise after Maeve.” She said sweetly. She kept a small smile on her face. Cardews didn’t crack under pressure.
“Let’s continue with the data.” Laurentio suggested. “That’s always good feedback. How did people feel about this arena?” Fulvia flipped to a new page in her datapad. The arena feedback was almost all positive. It usually was.
“I enjoyed it. This was one of my favorite arenas. Woods are a classic and the ruins of the town were a nice touch.” Gaia offered. “We should do something water-based in the next couple of years. We haven’t in a while.” Charlemagne flipped to a new page in his pad and began writing.
“I would love something with no camouflage options,” Crispus added. “Only an aggressive victor could win that one.” Charlemagne nodded.
“I love the mazes.” Fulvia offered. “I don’t think it was done well with Percy’s arena, but a maze with traps and mutts. Urg. So much fun.”
“We’ll need to wait until the 60s to try a maze again, but I agree. We missed the mark with Percy’s arena.” Charlemagne agreed as he continued writing.
“Ok. This is good, but I want to keep us moving. We’ll do an arena brainstorm with the whole staff once we’re back from the break. Let’s move onto Victor’s Affairs. Everyone behaved while they were here?”
“Yep.” Crispus replied. “My only long-term note is that we may want to do something about the drug and alcohol dependency of some of them, but that’s not a discussion for today.”
“Alcohol and drug dependent victors are pliable.” Plutarch offered. “If anything, I think we let it go.” Fulvia let out a slow exhale. Intoxicated victors were very difficult to work with. This would make her job harder.
“There’s a balance to be had.” Said Fulvia. “Maureen, Haymitch, and Chaff are the worst three right now, and they’re manageable for us because Seeder and Porter are handling them.”
“Ad that’s something that could become a long-term problem,” Plutarch replied. “There’s too much Victor solidarity, and it’s spilling over to the districts.”
“Look, Crispus and I work with these people every year.” Fulvia could feel anger building in her chest now. The audacity of this man to just show up and tell her how to do her job. “They don’t like each other. They tolerate each other and are willing to work together as long as it suits them.” She finished. She thought for another minute. “Except Mags. They all love Mags.”
“Yep.” Crispus added. Fulvia shifted closer to Crispus. Lines were being drawn here and she would defend her department. Plutarch was welcome to offer them feedback when he had completed the rotations asked of every associate. Until then, she wasn’t interested. Gaia leaned forward and furrowed her brow.
“I don’t expect us to decide on this today. Let’s transition to tour logistics. Will the, let’s call them the fanatic supporters of fallen tributes, be our only addition?”
“Cecelia is going to need botox. Nothing extreme. Just enough to show that she’s capitol now.” Plutarch interjected. Crispus slapped the table.
“See! That’s what I said!”
“But she’s not capitol. She’s district.” Fulvia replied. “Huge difference.”
“No, I agree with them,” Charlemagne led. “The victors are their own category.” Fulvia eyed Gaia. She thought back to Cecelia crying in the bathroom after her hair had been changed. How could she handle her face changing?
“Gaia,” Fulvia tried. Gaia shook her head.
“We need to start being proactive about these things. Botox and lip filler next time she’s here.” Gaia decided. Fulvia’s heart sank. Poor Cecelia. She quickly corrected herself. Lucky Cecelia will get to look like the best version of herself. She glanced at Crispus. He shook his head at her.
“Any other matters for the group?” Gaia asked. The group called out various dismissive statements. Fulvia scanned Plutarch. Did he realize the enemy he had just made of her? Of her entire staff? Media was a fun group to be friends with, but they were a horrible group to make enemies of. In general, it was ill-advised to anger the people who had most of the tabloids on speed dial and wrote Caesar Flickerman’s talking points. Apparently, he did not.
Fulvia was grateful that Crispus knew to follow her once the meeting ended.
“Rose garden.” He mouthed. Fulvia nodded. They meet on the roof 20 minutes later. Her heart was racing. She liked Gaia as a person and as a boss, she trusted Gaia. So why had Gaia brought that unqualified asshole into a department head meeting.
“What just happened in that meeting?” Fulvia asked. “Why was he even there?”
“Not sure. But this could pose a long-term issue for us.” Crispus said in an imitation of Plutarch. She rolled her eyes. “I am being a little serious. I knew he was ambitious; I didn’t realize he was this ambitious.” Thoughts raced through Fulvia’s mind. The politics of their role didn’t come naturally to her. A horrific thought occurred.
“You said there was a chance Gaia would be replaced. Did the Heavensbees offer some sort of protection in exchange for elevating Plutarch?” She wondered aloud. Crispus nodded.
“That I could see happening. Plus, we usually announce retirements and staff changes in September. But all that’s happened so far is she let him pitch in a meeting. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
“He’s got some out-there ideas.” Fulvia bit her lip. “He’s got an ally in Charlemagne though. And probably in Gaia herself.” Crispus shook his head.
“Based on that conversation, Gaia wouldn’t willingly replace one of us. Your last name protects you, and I have a different kind of protection. But...”
“If someone is asking Gaia to make space for Plutarch? He’d take Laurentio’s job.” Fulvia finished. She decided to be optimistic. “Which is a shame because he’s good at arena stuff. Maybe Charlemagne retires and Laurentio could take his job.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t think it’ll happen.”
“Honestly Fulvia, I don’t know. We have the most envied jobs in the Captiol. We got here through a combination of nepotism, luck, and knowing the right things. There’s no reason someone else can’t do the same.”
“Well. Maybe I could have a conversation with Charlemagne and encourage him to retire. I might have some leverage on him.” She suggested. Crispus narrowed his eyes.
“You’re making a lot of assumptions here.”
“Well I enjoy working with Laurentio. And Charlemagne is no saint.” Fulvia stated decidedly. Crispus turned his head.
“Are you finally aware of the big open secret?” He asked slowly. “You’re still friends with me so...”
“I hardly see how Charlemagne’s infidelity is the biggest open secret in the capitol.” She replied.
“Oh. Yeah. Who did you catch him with?”
“He doesn’t know I know. I caught him bringing Maeve into the control room two nights ago.”
“Control room? That is bold.”
“Exactly. And he didn’t wear his ring. I’m sure Maeve didn’t know he was married. She never would have gone along with it otherwise.”
“Yeah.”
“Someone is encouraging Gaia to elevate Plutarch. So, whoever she tries to get rid of, can have Charlemagne’s job.”
“That could be an option. But we don’t have all the facts yet.”
“You and I both know that was Plutarch’s audition for a department head spot.”
“And I don’t think he passed. I agree he will eventually, but he showed his lack of experience here. We have another few months before any more moves are made.” He stood up. “I’m glad you’re finally willing to start playing the game with the rest of us, but it takes practice to be good at this. Talk to me before you make any moves. We’re on the same team here.”
Fulvia nodded. She glanced over the capitol’s skyline towards the mountains that protected them. Despite the warmth, she shivered. She didn’t like Plutarch, and that was good enough reason to keep him out of their meetings and away from her victors and staff. Her bones knew eventually he would sit at their table as one of them. He had the degree, the name, and the connections, but she would make him earn it. Maybe she could delay his rise for a little while. Maybe? She scoffed. She would delay his rise for a little bit. Fulvia Cardew knew exactly who she was, and what it took to keep 57 victors, 30 staffers, 13 media outlets, and 24 tributes in line. She watched the sunshine hit the Victory Statue outside the university and bemoaned that she wouldn’t make it to the new coffeeshop today.
“We’re not playing his game.” Fulvia decided. “We’ll make our own. I’ll start paying attention to politics and family drama. I want to make that upstart lose.” Crispus grinned.
“Fulvia Cardew of the Captiol.” He began in an imitation of Caesar. “Welcome to the real game.”