Title: A Little Princess
Author: A Crazy Elephant
Summary: Miranda Snow is not like other children. Not even Capitol children.
Category: Drama
Chapter Word Count: 570
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games universe and related characters do not belong to me.
Author's Notes: A quick break from Awake and Sing! – this got stuck in my head after seeing Catching Fire this weekend. As always, I'd very much like to hear what everyone thinks and enjoy.
Chapter Fun Facts: The title was robbed from the Frances Hodgson Burnett of the same name. The name 'Miranda' is taken from Shakespeare's The Tempest – In the play, Miranda is the sheltered daughter of the sorcerer Prospero, who until the events of the play had never seen another living person beyond her father and his servants.
1 - Party
The first time Miranda realizes that she is not like other children, she is five years old.
Grandpa is having a garden party for all sorts of fancy people. Usually, Grandpa's parties happen after Miri's bedtime. Grandpa assures her they aren't the sorts of parties that other children attend and her nanny takes her to bed long before guests arrive.
But this party is an afternoon party and Miri is allowed to go.
She gets to wear a fancy dress – the kind with white lace and shiny pink ribbons and shiny white shoes. She gets to have fancy teacakes and ice cream and all sorts of treats and sit at a fancy little table that is just her size. More than that, Miri isn't the only child at this party.
For the first time in her life, Miranda Snow has playmates.
They are nothing like she had ever imagined. Admittedly, she's never actually seen with any real children besides her own self, only ones on television and in picture books, but Miri had imagined other children to be something, well, like her. Children who would play games with her, proper make-believe games instead of just things like chess. Children who would run and laugh and listen to her stories and tell her some too. If nothing else, maybe a little like they are in the storybooks – clever and fun.
They are not.
They're all a little bit older and a little bit bigger. Their clothes are strange – loud colors and shiny fabrics that are at once fascinating and ridiculous. They are all funny and mostly clever, but they are certainly not fun. No one is out-and-out mean, at least, not to her, but they won't play.
No laughing. No stories. Certainly no make-believe.
They play badminton and croquet and all the other boring lawn games Grandpa keeps for just these sorts of parties. It's quite obvious that Miri doesn't have to motor skills for badminton and she doesn't understand the rules to croquet, but all the other children do. But they still let her win.
Every. Single. Time.
It's hateful and when she asks them why, the answer is wholly unsatisfactory. It makes her want to scream, but Miri uses her manners like her tutors are always asking her to and plays along, even if she's shockingly disappointed with the whole experience of peers and playmates.
"Did you have fun, my dear?" Grandpa asks her later, after the party's over and he's leading her back into their house. He's holding her hand and looking generally important, like usual and Miri feels small and silly and completely ungrateful.
"Yes Grandpa." Miri tells him as the door to their home close behind them. It's not particularly true, but Grandpa doesn't like it when she's unhappy. "Grandpa?"
"Yes?"
"Those children. They were strange."
"How so?" Grandpa asks and she can't place the tone in his voice.
"They wouldn't play with me. Not like they were playing with each other. They kept letting me win, like my nanny does." Miri observes. "I asked them why. One of the little boys said it was because I'm me and you're you – that they have to. What does that mean, Grandpa?" Grandpa just smiles down at her, the fond sort of smile she usually gets, but there's something a little bit like triumph in there too and he squeezes her hand.
"It means we're special, my dear."