▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

chapter two
THE CAPULETS AND MONTAGUES

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

tw: mention of forced prostitution, physical abuse from family

━━━━

Sage still hasn't become accustomed to seeing her face plastered in magazines, on posters and on television screens. From the moment her name was called at The Reaping, she knew either one of two things would happen to her. One, she would die in the Arena, a face and name forgotten just like the other twenty-three lost tributes with the exception of their families to guard their memory. Two, she would somehow manage to survive, exiting as a Victor for The Capitol to praise and spy on for at least a year until she would pass the crown to a new shiny toy.

But she never imagined anything like this.

Reporters crowding her hotel room, shoving their cameras and microphones into her face down the elevator, through the lobby, even to her car. To say Philo enjoyed the attention would be an understatement. Then there were the tabloids, already hot off the presses, the paper barely cooled. Philo was cooing at them in their limousine, noting how "tall and handsome" Ptolemus looked while Sage appeared as "lovely as ever."

It's strange seeing what she thought was such an intimate moment from a different perspective peering in. There's one photograph of the two in an embrace, lips pressed together for their kiss. Another from when they heard the clicks of the cameras, Sage whirled around, wide-eyed and clinging to a steady Ptolemus. The headlines read, "VICTORS IN THE GARDEN: ANOTHER HUNGER GAMES LOVE STORY?"

Now as she sits in the bullet train heading towards District Ten, horizons made of blurry mountains and trees rolling by, she can't help but straighten at the sound of Ceasar Flickerman's voice. Gnawing on a fingernail absent-mindedly, her gaze finds the illuminated television screen as she curls up on the velvet sofa. Philo sits in front of it like a child waiting for their Sunday morning cartoons.

Caesar folds his hands neatly on the table before him, powdery pink nails matching his eyeshadow and wig. He leans forward, stare boring into the camera with a light playfulness. "Now, as you may know, this weekend was our famed Gleam Gala, where The Capitol truly gets a moment to shine! Rubies, sapphires, diamonds, all from our beautiful Panem. But!" His smile flashes white, eyes beaming as he holds up a finger. "That's not the only thing growing from our beautiful country. Perhaps, a new romance is blooming in The Capitol Gardens. Let's take a look!"

Sage recognizes the images from the tabloids as they emerge on screen. The differing angle still feels invasive, and she tucks her knees closer to her.

"Oh!" Philo points to the screen with excitement, wide eyes flickering between her and the pictures. "There you are! There you are! It's so sweet I want to scream!"

Sage stifles the urge to remind him he is screaming, shrill voice piercing her eardrums, but draws her focus back to the screen. The images of her and Ptolemus grow smaller in the corner as Caesar reemerges. He offers a cheeky grin, jutting a thumb to the pictures. "Get a load of these two. Looks like our Legacy Ptolemus Pierce and the Nation's Favorite Cowgirl, Sage Navarro, snuck away for a dance."

Sage cringes at the silly title they've given her, the host coining it during her Interview when she mentioned she's helped Peacekeepers and other ranchers round up runaway horses.

"And maybe more." A loud chuckle bursts from him at that, and simultaneously, Philo starts giggling too. He glances to Sage, expecting a similar reaction as he pats her knee gently. She just offers a thin-lipped smile, raising her brows in silence.

Caesar calms his laughter, spreading his palms along the table again. "No, no, but in all seriousness, isn't that the sweetest thing?"

"Yes!" Philo cries.

"Now, I don't know about you, but I am dying to know what is going on with these two. Is history repeating itself with two new Victors falling in love because of The Games? The idea makes me shake I'm so giddy. Look at this!" The host holds up one of his hands to reveal its trembling form. She barely stifles an eyeroll.

Philo taps her knee again with a jut of his wrist as he points to the screen. "His mother and father were Victors too. Nero and Petra Pierce, that's how they fell in love!"

Sage just nods as she reaches to bite another fingernail. The acrylics have been peeled off, revealing her raw and red nubs beneath. "So I've heard."

"We'll be keeping an eye on this budding romance, won't we, Panem?" He beams again, pausing for the audience to agree. Then he straightens and offers a wink. "I'm Caesar Flickerman. Over and out."

With that, the screen fades to black, eventually reverting to a commercial about some kind of toothpaste that can make your teeth as bright as diamonds. None of it accessible to your average Panem citizen of course. Philo clicks the remote, muting the television. He swivels along the sofa to face a stiff Sage. The giddy excitement radiates off him.

"So." One of his brows raise mischievously. "When are you seeing him again?"

A shrug. "Dunno. When I get invited to another party, I guess?"

Philo gasps. "But who knows when that will be! You two didn't make promises to see one another again?"

"It was kind of hard with everyone crowding us. I didn't really get to talk to him after the pictures." She stretches stiffly along the couch. "Besides, don't I need to be summoned to leave? He lives in another District."

"Oh trust me, we will be summoned. The nation already adores you two!"

I doubt the District laborers worry about more than whether they need to take out more Tesserae or not.

Philo adjusts himself on the couch, turning his body toward the Victor completely now. He reminds her of the girls at her school, herself included, huddling in the cafeteria to share the juicy gossip of the week. She's not so sure she's as willing to spill as she might've been before.

"I just have to know." It's hard for her to take her Escort seriously when he looks at her like that. She raises her brows as she waits. "Is he a good kisser?"

━━━━

Ptolemus can feel their stares boring into him, threatening to set him on fire right where he sits in his own living room. Commercials replace Caesar Flickerman's voice as the image of him and Sage in the garden disappears. He does the best he can to ignore the glares, leaning back in his cushioned chair, arms folding across his chest. There's a clatter of the television remote as his father drops it loudly onto the coffee table.

"Well? Are you proud of yourself?" Nero Pierce demands, glacial blue eyes glowering.

Ptolemus leans forward, adjusting the dropped remote so that it faces upward neatly amongst his other trinkets. Then he wipes at the glossy finish of the table to inspect for any scratches. "Do you mind not messing up my coffee table?"

"Ptolemus." His mother's cool voice cuts through the air like an unforgiving winter gale, almost making him shudder. She props herself off the doorway from his dining room, heels clicking along the hardwood floor. Petra's eyes are even more piercing. "This is serious. What? Do you think it's funny?"

The nineteen-year-old shakes his head, shrugging as his finger scratches at his cheek. They don't notice it's his middle one. "No, I don't see why it would be funny. Not really sure why it's that serious either."

"Your face is plastered everywhere! The TV, the tabloids, even in some of the streets of The Capitol!" Nero fumes, lips twisting into a snarl.

Ptolemus hardly falters. He's used to his father's rage. It's raised him more than anything else in his life, never being the gentle or nurturing caretaker he actually needed. The Victor's brows pinch together into a mockingly thoughtful frown. "Mmm, pretty sure it's always been like that. Ya know, 'Pierce Family is Panem's Favorite Family?' All that bullshit I've been hearing my whole life."

His mother huffs as she pinches the bridge of her nose. Both Petra and Nero stare at one another helplessly. "He never takes anything seriously," the former remarks bitterly, as if he isn't even there. A habit his parents have consistently practiced. Whatever parenting manual they got it from, Ptolemus thinks they should burn it.

"I don't know where he gets it from."

Rolling his eyes, the boy stands with a huff, arms falling limply to his sides. "Well, if that's all ya got, I'm going to the Gym with Gunnar. You know your way out."

Just as he's about to latch onto his freshly chilled water bottle, his father snatches it right from his fingertips. The plastic crunches at that, cold droplets spraying lightly in the air at the sudden motion. His voice is deep, booming, and demanding. "Sit down."

They're both close in height, but Ptolemus is taller, looming over his father in the slightest. Their icy gazes glower into one another silently. Ptolemus remembers when it was different, he was always staring up at his father, trying not to cower under the coldness as a young boy. He used to think his mother was the more nurturing one. Then he grew up, and realized she actually wasn't much better. Where his father's cold was hard like a steel blade, cutting down on anything that failed to conform, his mother's was like a chilling whisper, creeping down the back of your neck and clouding your mind slowly over the years.

Ptolemus doesn't sit, and he doesn't cower either, only taking a slight step back. He pulls away from his father's gaze, eyes flickering toward his mother's narrowed ones. He raises a brow. "I kissed a girl and some reporters took a picture of it. So what?"

Petra inhales sharply through her nose. "She isn't the type of people you're supposed to be kissing at those events."

"Oh yeah, because I actually wanted to kiss her, unlike the other ones at those freak shows." Bitterness seeps through his tone as his arms fold across his chest again.

His mother ignores that reminder, hardly even flinching. "If she was from Two or even One we could tolerate it."

"But she's from Ten," his father interjects pointedly. "What does she do, chase chickens through their own crap all day?"

Ptolemus clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, hardly missing a beat. "Guts pigs, I think."

A loud Slap!, his face turning to the side from the force. It was only an open palm, the calluses of his father's hand familiar to him over the years. Every muscle in his body tightens, dying to lurch forward and send a fist in the older man's direction. Ptolemus digs for restraint, wherever it may be hiding, as his chest heaves and his nostrils flare. His blue eyes glare back into Nero's.

"Do that again and I'll break your fucking hand."

Just as an amused sneer twists onto Nero's features at the challenge, a cool and thinner hand gently cups the boy's stinging cheek. Petra shifts between the two men as she forces her son to look into her eyes. "Ptolemus. Listen to us, please." There it is again. Those cool whispers. They make a really good team, with his father's brutal and blunt force, followed by his mother's deceivingly soft and calculating words. Her voice wreaks of desperation to be understood. "The country is watching our family. Do you have any idea what a girl from Ten could do to our Legacy?"

Silence. He peers down at his mother, her features feigning a softness that he knows is never real, resisting the urge to crumple into it. When he was younger, he used to always crumple into it. Now he's just rigid as stone just like they carved him to be. She searches desperately for his understanding, the hand on his cheek slipping down to his shoulder. By the way she blinks at him, he knows she thinks she finally has it.

Ptolemus shrugs his shoulder out of her grip. "I think The Capitol is eating it up, another love story or whatever." Both of his parents scowl, and he surprises his father when he snatches his water bottle back from his grip. The boy turns toward the front door of his Victor's Mansion. "And even if they didn't, I really don't care."

Their glares bore into his spine, but he merely ignores them. He swings the front door open, calling over his shoulder. "Like I said, you two know your way out."

The door slams loudly behind him as his house shudders.

━━━━

Sage has barely shut the front door to her Victor's Mansion before her landline rings loudly, echoing throughout her fairly empty home. A huff escapes her as her suitcase clatters to the ground. She stalks down the hall toward the kitchen, the hardwood creaking beneath her feet. The phone continues to ring loudly and impatiently. The sound is still difficult for her to get used to, just like everything about her new life, her jaw clenching. She snatches it from the wall.

"Hello?"

"Sage." Her mother's voice calls, sounding a little distant. "It's us, dear." At that, several voices murmur various greetings in the background, ones she recognizes as her brothers and father. Her mother's tone sweetens curiously. "We were just calling to check up on you."

"Oh." The Victor straightens, almost forgetting to breathe as her mind races. Did they see the photographs? They had to, they're plastered everywhere. She leans against the wall, coiling the phone cord around a finger. "Hey, yeah, everything's good over here."

A pause. Sage doubts her mother buys it. She's always been intuitive to her children's true thoughts and feelings.

If she doesn't believe her, she doesn't show it quite yet. Her voice remains light. "How was the ride back home?"

Before Sage can respond, another impatient and annoyed voice cuts in. "Why are you asking her about the ride home, Ma?" Shiloh, the skeptic.

"Yeah, who cares?" Another brother cuts in. When he speaks again, his voice is louder and closer to the phone. "How was the Gala, Sagey? Meet anybody interesting?"

Sage rolls her eyes at Colt's inquiries, nostrils flaring.

"Boys." Luna Navarro must yank the phone back.

"We just wanna know, Ma," Almanzo tries, his voice the most level of the three brothers. He's the oldest, married off with a daughter of his own. Sage can hear her niece's high-pitched squeals in the background, imagining her bouncing on her father's knee in one of their kitchen chairs. He clears his throat. "Is everything alright, Sage?"

The dark-haired girl nods, sighing. "Yes, yes, guys I'm fi—"

"We just wanna know why you were sucking face with a Career!" Colt shouts into the phone, and Sage pulls it away from her ear, cringing and fuming at once. "You know who he is, right?"

Footsteps pound in the background, growing nearer. "Did he threaten you?" Shiloh interrogates in a low and serious tone.

Her features twist into an incredulous frown. "No, he did not threaten me, he was the nicest one there." One of her brothers gags in disgust over the phone. Probably Colt. "And yes, I know who he is."

"Nicest one there?" Shiloh repeats with disbelief.

"Ah my god, Sage. Getting fooled by another carechimba!"

"Colt!" Everyone seems to shout his name at his slip-up in the background, Sage included. Using Spanish or other languages besides English is prohibited in Panem. And doing so on a landline provided by The Capitol probably bugged by The Capitol? If he weren't the brother of a Victor, he could expect some lashings. Maybe that won't even matter.

Shiloh, Sage's middle brother takes the phone again. "If you want to meet a nice guy I know plenty of workers your age at The Dairy. In fact, Talon has always been wanting to take you out. You know, tall guy with the super dark hair?"

"I'll keep that in mind." Sage rolls her eyes, lightly banging her head into the wall. This phone call is giving her a throbbing headache.

"Do you even know this guy?" Colt tries, voice raising in pitch.

Luna Navarro clears her throat. "Boys, she gets it. Let her breathe a minute."

"It's not like we're married," Sage huffs in annoyance. "We just danced and had one little peck. I might never even see him again."

Despite their mother's attempts, Colt doesn't let up. They're the closest in age, only ten months apart but have been bickering even before they could form words. "You might as well be married, everyone's just gushing over those photos of you two. It was on the News!"

A chair scrapes against the hardwood floor in the background, and Sage can hear her niece's low babbling. Almanzo's voice floats through the line again. "Can I try, Ma?"

"Only if these two will let you get a word in," she sighs. Colt and Shiloh grumble something under their breaths, completely inaudible for Sage to catch. Then there's a yelp or two, signaling while she didn't hear, their mother definitely did. Sage musters a smirk.

"Hey," Almanzo greets again, taking the phone. "You alright?"

"Hey, Zo." Her fingers pinch the bridge of her nose, trying to dull the pulsing within her skull, and she shuts her eyes. A nod they can't see. "Yep. Just wondering at what age do those two mature past the age of twelve."

"They're just worried, is all. Although I can't say it's looking too good for them."

"Hey!" Colt whines.

"Enough!" Her father chastises. "You've said plenty."

Sage inhales sharply as she stifles an eye roll. "I'll probably come down later this week for a few days. Help out with everything and check on Sunshine."

"Take your time," Almanzo reassures. "Erabelle likes checking on her for you."

She smiles at the mention of her little niece. "Well make sure you tell her I appreciate all her hard work. I know Sunshine is in good hands."

"Will do. And Sage?"

That tone almost makes her slump. She knows that tone. The big brother tone, but not just any big brother, the oldest big brother. The noble, wise, and responsible one. Her, Colt, and Shiloh are all accustomed to hearing that every once and a while. She gnaws on the inside of her bottom lip.

"Yes...?"

"We just want you to be careful. That's all."

"Yeah! Do some research on this guy before making out with him, will ya?" Colt shouts into the phone.

Annoyance ripples down Sage's spine at her brother's nagging. "Shut up, Colt, my God."

Almanzo clears his throat. "You don't have to go looking for the guy's whole biography. Just take your time getting to know him. Tread carefully because—"

"Because he's from Two!"

There's the sound of a shove, Colt squealing at the impact. "Because—" Almanzo finishes. "We just don't want you getting hurt, alright?"

"That's right honey," her mother interjects.

So does her father, his voice sounding further away. "And we love and miss you. We can't wait to see you."

"I love you guys too," Sage echoes. She feels herself soften, the annoyance and frustration beginning to fade. "I'll be careful. Say hi to Sunshine for me."

"Will do."

With that, Sage hangs up the phone, anxious to avoid anymore frustrating comments from Colt or Shiloh. The former, loud and nosy and always nitpicking everything. The latter soft-spoken, but still patronizing and a little bit moody. Frankly, Sage's head hurts too much to tolerate it for a minute longer. Half of her is desperately excited to reunite with her family and return to her true home, but the other half completely dreads it.

She should've known. Of course they'd see the tabloids. Of course they'd call. And of course, they'd be concerned.

They mean well. She knows that. But their uneasiness only heightens hers, it filling her back up after she thought she's finally stuffed it down and away. For a moment, she almost regrets dancing with Ptolemus in that garden. Dancing led to talking, and then talking led to well... not talking anymore. Now their private moment is out there for all to see.

Despite the headache, her family does have a point. She really doesn't know Ptolemus besides the fleeting moments of conversation with him as well as all she heard over the years concerning his family that was broadcasted on the News. She wishes she paid attention to that more. Maybe even mustered up the courage to watch his Games instead of roaming the pastures. But a Legacy from Two was the least of her interests or concerns growing up, no matter how much The Capitol tried to shove the practically royal family down their throats. It meant nothing to her.

Until now. Now, by a strange series of events, her and Ptolemus Pierce not only have crossed paths, but are plastered all across Panem together.

Almanzo's words echo through her brain again. "Just take your time getting to know him."

Sage folds her arms across her chest, attempting to sift through all her thoughts. It's like a tornado, all of them chasing one another rapidly, sucking her up off the ground of reality. Only one of them seems to make some sense to her. With a sigh, she reaches back up toward the phone, dialing one more number for the night. It rings twice, before a familiar voice picks up.

"Philo? I know you might be on the train already but... could I ask you for a favor?"

━━━━

»»————-　♡　————-««

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!! Feel free to comment, I love hearing from you :)

But ahh, I'm so excited for Sage and Ptolemus, I love writing them so much! I have a Pinterest board for this fic on my account forbiddenlullabies, it's under d4u

Opinions so far??? Guesses on the favor Sage is asking for??

Also, here are their families as I casted and imagined!

The Pierce Family

The Navarro Family

Word Count: 3715