Chapter Text
President Snow was dead.
That was all that us in the staff room in Tigris’ Boutique needed to hear before we began cheering louder than we ever had before. The sound practically rattled the walls. Someone knocked over a mannequin in the excitement, fabric spilling across the floor like water, but nobody cared enough to pick it up. In the boutique, it was a safe space for anyone who hated the Hunger Games, which also included hating President Snow. Safe spaces were rare in the Capitol. You had to learn quickly when to smile, when to clap, and when to keep your mouth shut. Tigris’ Boutique was one of the only places where people could speak honestly without fear curling in their stomachs afterwards.
I came here when I was thirteen, when Tigris had found me tearing down posters advertising the Seventy-First Hunger Games before the authorities did, and took me in as a model. Ever since then, my name, Caligula Woods, had been everywhere in the Capitol, printed across magazines and glowing from storefront screens, and my parents couldn’t be prouder.
Not that they actually understood me.
They loved the fame. They loved hearing people whisper my name when we walked through the streets. Loved seeing me draped in Tigris’ designs. But every time I tried to talk about the Games when I was younger, really talk about them, they’d get this uncomfortable look in their eyes, like I was discussing something vulgar over dinner.
“Caligula,” my mother would sigh, delicately placing down her fork, “you don’t understand how the world works yet.” As if slaughtering children on television was something mature people simply accepted.
Now that Snow was dead, there’d be no more Hunger Games, and maybe all of Panem could finally be at peace. It would take work, especially for all of the more closed-minded Capitol citizens, but I had hope. All of us at the boutique had hope. The new president, President Coin, seemed nice enough. Cold, maybe, but composed. She was from District 13, a place all of us in the Capitol had believed was long gone. The fact that an entire district had survived underground for decades without the Capitol knowing still felt unreal to me.
Everything felt unreal.
The war was over. Snow was dead. Rebels walked freely through the Capitol streets now instead of being shown on television as monsters. Peacekeepers had vanished from corners where they used to stand every day. It was like waking up in a different world overnight.
“Caligula, can you believe it?” A squeaky voice spoke up from behind me after the initial cheering died down. I could recognise that modified voice anywhere. My dear friend, Nilla. I turned around to look at her, and there she was, as happy as ever, her slicked-back hair slightly frizzed from people rubbing against her in the excitement.
“Hardly.” Chuckling, I pulled her close to me and fixed the strands sticking out. Nilla, only sixteen years old, was what us in the Capitol would describe as a Capitol Darling. Almost everything about her had been modified, from the tone of her voice to the sheen of her skin. Her eyelashes glittered silver whenever the light hit them. The only thing left unchanged was her straight black hair. Nilla simply wouldn’t be Nilla without her hair.
“I wonder if people from the districts will be able to come here?” I wondered aloud, and the room quieted slightly. A few people exchanged glances.
“I’m not sure,” a voice answered. One of the younger workers. Poplars. “I would love it, but… are we sure it’ll be safe?” I eyed him cautiously, one brow raised.
“Not safe? What do you mean by that?” My nose crinkled. Poplars immediately looked nervous. His eyes darted around the room while he tugged anxiously at the sleeves of his sweater.
“Just— it’ll make sense if most district people are angry,” he muttered. “Who’s to say they won’t do something irrational?” The room shifted awkwardly. I understood fear. The Capitol had spent decades teaching people to fear the districts. Teaching us they were savage, violent, uncivilised. Even people who hated the Games still carried traces of that propaganda around inside them whether they realised it or not. But hearing it out loud still irritated me.
“They’d have every right to be angry,” I replied flatly. “We sat here eating pastries while their children died.” Poplars swallowed hard.
“I didn’t mean—” Before he could finish, Tigris walked in, her striped tail flicking behind her. We all immediately went silent, not because we were afraid to talk over her, but because everyone genuinely wanted to hear what she had to say. Tigris carried herself softly, but whenever she entered a room, people listened.
“Settle down,” she purred, running her hands across a bolt of pale fabric draped over her arms. “You’re all excited, I’m sure of it, so don’t worry about work today.” Several of the lazier workers quietly celebrated. “But,” she continued, pointing one clawed finger around the room, “I expect all of you back in this room by five sharp, okay? The victors, along with President Coin, apparently have an important announcement.”
The room buzzed instantly.
“An announcement?”
“What kind?”
“Do you think it’s about rebuilding?”
“Maybe they’re reopening travel?” Tigris only smiled mysteriously.
“You’ll find out with everyone else.” We all nodded, and she turned gracefully before disappearing back through the hallway. Since there was no work today, I suddenly had far too much free time on my hands, and I’d been meaning to get my hair redone soon anyway. There’s no time like the present.
“I’m going to the salon,” I announced while already heading toward the back door. “I need to get my hair done.” I instantly heard Nilla giggling behind me and glanced back.
“You’re such a princess, Caligula.” Upon hearing her, I smirked faintly.
“And yet you adore me anyway.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
I laughed under my breath before slipping out the door and gently closing it behind me. Outside, the streets felt quieter than usual. Not empty. Just muted. The Capitol was never truly silent. There were always hovercraft humming overhead somewhere, always distant music drifting from open apartment windows, always heels clicking against marble streets. But today felt strange. Hesitant. I assumed some people were grieving, and honestly? Fuck them.
President Snow didn’t deserve to be grieved. Maybe his direct family could mourn him a little, but that was it. That was all that bastard deserved after everything he’d done. As I walked, I noticed groups of people clustered around screens displaying endless news coverage. Rebel soldiers marching through the streets. Victors standing beside President Coin. Over and over again. Nobody looked glamorous anymore. The Capitol had always been obsessed with appearances. Even during wartime people still wore ridiculous makeup and shimmering wigs like pretending things were beautiful would somehow make them beautiful. But now everyone looked exhausted. Makeup smudged. Hair grown out. Glitter fading from their skin. I strolled through the quiet streets, occasionally nodding politely at passersby, until I reached the salon. Thank Coin it wasn’t closed.
The second I pushed the door open, the familiar perfume-heavy air hit me.
“Caligula!” Alyssum practically lunged toward me before I could even speak. Within seconds she was already steering me toward my usual chair. “Darling, is this a stress appointment?” she asked dramatically, pressing my shoulders down into the seat.
“No, no.” I laughed softly. “I just found the time for a touch-up now that the boutique’s closed for the day.”
“Mhm.” Alyssum narrowed her eyes suspiciously while aggressively dunking my hair into the wash basin. “And here I thought our dear Capitol prince had finally cracked under pressure.”
“I’m not a prince.”
“You practically are.” As she worked shampoo through my hair, the salon buzzed with gossip around us. Everyone was discussing the announcement.
“I heard President Coin is reorganising the government.”
“No, I heard they’re dismantling the Peacekeepers entirely.”
“My cousin said District people are going to move into the Capitol.”
“That would never happen.”
“Wouldn’t it?”
I stared up at the ceiling while Alyssum scrubbed at my scalp hard enough to make my eyes water.
“I’m curious about the announcement too,” I admitted.
“Oh, me too, Cali. We’re alive while history’s being made.” Alyssum grinned. “Do you think they’ll put me in the history books?” I held back a laugh.
“Oh, definitely. Alys’ Salon will go down in Capitol history.” She gasped theatrically.
“Don’t be sassy with me, Cali. I could ruin your hair if I wanted to.” She tapped my forehead lightly. “And I think it’s safe to assume you don’t want to walk around bald.” She wasn’t wrong. I’d rather throw myself off a building than go bald. After washing my hair, Alyssum brought me over to the styling chair and began curling the pale strands carefully around a heated rod. “You know,” she mused, “I wonder what’ll happen to all the stylists now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…” Alyssum shrugged. “The Games are gone. That was where most Capitol fashion came from. Every year there’d be new trends because of the tributes.” I paused at that. She wasn’t saying it cruelly. Just factually. But it still made my stomach twist a little. The Capitol had turned dead children into fashion inspiration for so long that people barely even noticed they were doing it anymore.
“Maybe fashion can become normal now,” I said quietly. “Maybe it doesn’t need children dying attached to it.” Alyssum met my eyes in the mirror for a moment. Then she nodded.
“Maybe.” After a while, my hair was finally back to its usual look. Slightly old-fashioned waves framing my face neatly. I preferred it that way. Tigris always said modern Capitol styles looked too desperate to be unique. Most Capitol boys dyed their hair extravagant colours or implanted gems beneath their skin, but I’d always kept my hair naturally blonde. Of course, I wouldn’t have minded changing it if work required it, but for now this suited me perfectly.
“Thank you, Alyssum.” She shooed me toward the door immediately.
“Out. Go be historically important somewhere else.” Like usual, she refused to let me pay. At this point I’d stopped arguing because the money always mysteriously ended up shoved back into my pockets somehow anyway.
By the time I stepped back outside, it was around two in the afternoon. Three hours until the announcement. The streets were becoming busier now, people slowly trying to return to their routines. Maybe they feared the announcement would change things further. Maybe they were trying to pretend nothing had changed at all. I couldn’t look inside their minds, so I supposed I’d never know. I wandered deeper into the Capitol, hands tucked into my coat pockets as melted snow crunched beneath my boots. Workers were already replacing the old red banners hanging from buildings. The bright crimson fabric bearing the Capitol emblem was being taken down and replaced with white banners marked by grey coins where Snow’s symbol once sat.
I sighed softly.
The red design had always been beautiful. But I couldn’t blame President Coin for wanting to erase him from everything. It was strange watching the Capitol transform in real time. Like seeing someone repaint over a mural while traces of the old image still showed beneath the new paint. Tour guide shops looked abandoned now. Some have completely boarded up already. Others desperately try to advertise things unrelated to the Games. I never liked those tours anyway.
“Visit the glorious arena where the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games took place!”
As if children hadn’t bled to death there. As if people hadn’t turned suffering into entertainment. Now that I looked properly, things were being torn down everywhere. Old Hunger Games posters featuring previous victors vanished from walls one by one. Giant screens replaying interviews had gone dark. Even souvenir stalls were being dismantled. Watching it happen reminded me of when Tigris first found me years ago.
I started hating the Hunger Games when I was ten. That was the mandatory age to begin watching them, and my parents refused to let me watch before then, insisting it was “important civic viewing.” So there I was, just a small boy curled up on the sofa, staring at the television. I particularly liked one of the youngest tributes that year. Marsh. I never learned his last name. He was twelve years old and looked terrified the entire time. I wanted him to win. Not because I understood strategy or sponsors or survival. Just because he looked small and scared and reminded me of a stray cat trying to act brave. Then the countdown began. And he was blown to pieces on his platform before he even had the chance to run. I still remembered the sound my mother made afterwards. A tiny disappointed sigh.
“Well,” she muttered, sipping her drink, “that’s unfortunate.” Unfortunate. Like he’d spilled wine on a carpet instead of dying. I was horrified. From that moment onward, I refused to support the Games.
I began sneaking out to tear down posters at night. Stupid, reckless little acts that could’ve gotten my family arrested if anyone important noticed. Then one evening Tigris caught me halfway through clawing down a giant poster for the Seventy-First Games.
I’d thought she was going to turn me in. Instead, she helped me rip the rest of it down. After that, my parents allowed her to take me in as a model for her designs, and somehow I became an overnight sensation in the Capitol. Pretty enough for magazines. Charming enough for interviews. But never allowed to voice my actual opinions. If I openly criticised the Games, I’d be executed. And maybe Tigris would be too. She was Snow’s cousin, but that never truly protected her. Snow didn’t love people. He only tolerated usefulness. I still remembered asking her once if he’d always been so cruel.
“People like Snow aren’t born monsters, darling,” she’d told me while adjusting fabric around my shoulders. “They become them little by little while everyone lets it happen. By the time we realize what they are, who in their right mind would try to stop them?” I hadn’t understood her then. Part of me still didn’t.
Surely someone could’ve stopped him sooner. Surely people must’ve seen what he was becoming. And now the authorities were doing exactly what I’d spent years secretly doing myself: tearing down every reminder of the Hunger Games. Watching it filled me with relief. No one deserved to die like that. Ever. Eventually, my wandering led me to a café. A fairly popular one run by an older woman named Angie Riverthorn, who used to work as an escort for tributes years ago. The bell attached to the door jingled softly when I stepped inside. Immediately, several people looked up and smiled.
“Caligula!”
“Come sit over here!”
“You get your hair done?”
I was used to being recognised by now. Fame came with endless conversations whether you wanted them or not.
“Mhm,” I answered with a grin. “Got it recurled. Though I think it’s more wavy than curly now.” A cute barista boy immediately brought over my usual order without asking: a small chocolate muffin and tea. “Thanks,” I murmured, earning a flustered smile before he hurried away. I settled into my usual seat and listened to the café chatter drifting around me. Most conversations eventually circled back to the announcement.
“It has to be about rebuilding.”
“No, no, they’ll announce elections.”
“I heard some districts want independence.”
“Impossible.”
By four o’clock, nearly everyone in the café seemed tense.
“It’ll probably just be an official statement confirming the Hunger Games are gone forever,” I suggested casually while finishing the last bite of my muffin. Several people fell silent, considering it.
“Maybe,” one man sighed. A small freckled girl nearby frowned down at her drink.
“I never really liked the Games anyway,” she admitted quietly. A man across from her blinked.
“Isn’t your mother one of those big sponsors who practically funds tributes every year?” The man asked. I narrowed my eyes slightly. There were far too many wealthy sponsors like that in the Capitol.
“Yeah,” the girl snapped, “but that doesn’t mean I enjoy watching children die.” A taller woman beside her gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Ellie, I know the Games are probably over now, but you should still be careful with your words.” Ellie jerked away from the touch.
“Oh, fuck off.” I accidentally laughed at the girl swearing. Several people shot me irritated looks while I covered my mouth quickly.
“Sorry,” I muttered, still grinning slightly. But honestly? Good for her. People in the Capitol spent too long policing every little thought. Eventually I stood from the table, brushing crumbs from my coat. It was 4:12 now. I figured it was better to head back early than risk missing the announcement.
As I walked back through the streets, I noticed even more posters of President Coin replacing the old images of Snow. Her expression stared down from the walls with cold composure. It almost felt like Snow was being erased from history entirely. Like he’d become something shameful everyone wanted scrubbed clean. A nice change from people worshipping the ground he walked on. When I rounded the corner toward the boutique, I spotted Tigris standing outside waiting. The second she noticed me, she beckoned me closer with one clawed finger.
“Caligula, come here for a minute, dear.” I obeyed immediately, tilting my head slightly.
“What’s up?”
“It’s about the announcement.” Her voice lowered carefully. “Because I helped hide the rebels, they told me some of it early.” My eyebrows shot upward. That was news to me.
“I can’t say much,” Tigris continued quietly, “just… put that poker face of yours to work, Cali.” Something cold settled in my stomach.
“What do you mean?”
“The younger ones here look up to you,” she said gently, placing one hand on my shoulder. “You’re an inspiration to them whether you realize it or not.” Her expression worried me more than her words. I nodded slowly before stepping inside the boutique.
The staff room was mostly empty except for Nilla, who had somehow managed to build a fort out of piles of fluffy fabric in the corner.
“Cali!” she chirped brightly. “Come sit. I thought we deserved comfortable seats for the announcement.” She patted the enormous fabric pile beside her. I walked over slowly and sat down, staring blankly at the television mounted on the wall. Nilla nudged my shoulder almost immediately. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Oh, nothing.” I forced a smile. “Just worried about the announcement. You know what I’m like.” I slipped on my best poker face just like Tigris instructed. More people slowly filtered into the room, chatting nervously amongst themselves while the clock ticked closer and closer toward five. Someone turned the television volume higher. Another person began pacing. Nilla leaned against my shoulder absentmindedly while braiding strands of black hair between her fingers. I checked my watch. 4:56 PM. And suddenly, for reasons I couldn’t explain, I felt sick. Time froze around me, and before I knew it, the TV was turning on, a grey coin spinning around as a new intro to Capitol TV. It was the coin that was embroidered onto the new banners. It was definitely a change. President Coin was certainly pushing the coin agenda.
On the screen, stood Katniss Everdeen next to President Coin. The girl on fire, as everyone knew her, spoke first.
“Citizens of the Capitol. We have an important announcement,” she began, and everyone in the staff room fell silent, some with poorer eyesight learning into the screen to see Katniss in all of her glory, “you have watched the children of the districts die for 75 years.” The screen changed to showing some deaths in the games, and my hands went to cover my eyes, but Nilla pulled them down. “But that changes. Now, it’s your turn.”
The room went silent. What did she mean, our turn? Surely she didn’t..
“We will be holding a Capitol Games. Your children, aged 12-18, may be reaped tomorrow morning.”
Then the TV turned off. The announcement was over. This is what Tigris warned me to do. I kept my poker face, I kept calm. But inside, I wanted to claw my way out of the Capitol and run away somewhere safe. I knew the chances of me being reaped were low, but.. but anyone that I’ve known in the 17 years I’ve lived could be reaped.
There would be a Capitol Games.