Districts One and Two were less than pleased with Dahlia's presence. Afterall, she was the reason they were deprived of another Victor. Their tributes had so much potential to win, but their lights were snubbed out by the darkness of The Black Dahlia. She didn't receive a warm reception from the crowds and she could practically feel the bitterness behind the glares of the families.

But Dahlia didn't have the luxury of grieving for the lives she had stolen. They would've done the same to her without a hint of remorse, she merely got to them first. If she had been a Career, these people would've been cheering her name. But the thought that a small inexperienced girl from Five had bested their District's top tributes was humiliating to say the least.

Magenta kept the girl on a tight leash after her outburst in District Four, giving her a stern scolding and strict instructions to stick to the words on the card. Dahlia obliged by his wishes because they were getting closer to the Capitol and, therefore, closer to Snow. She knew he wouldn't be happy with her behaviour so she was desperately trying to claw her way back into his good books (if he even had one).

"What has Snow decreed for me to wear to his party?" Dahlia asks her stylist unenthusiastically as they speed towards the Capitol.

Juno shoots up from her seat eagerly, clapping her hands together in excitement. "He commissioned this dress specifically."

"Oh joy." Dahlia hums sarcastically with a roll of her eyes, dreading the outfit even more with that knowledge. "Snow seems awfully keen on the phrase 'Less is More' when it comes to my wardrobe."

"It's your style." Juno defends, unwrapping the dress from its protective covering like a kid in a candy store.

"No, it's not." Dahlia argues, glancing to Alaric who sits on the couch next to her with an impassive expression. "It's the style that's been assigned to me. I have no choice in the matter."

"Either way, this dress is truly magnificent." Juno squeals, preparing to unveil her creation. "Are you ready?" Dahlia and Alaric stare unimpressed at the woman while Magenta nods vigorously. "Ta-dah!"

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Feeling more exposed than ever, Dahlia smooths her hands down the thin fabric that scarcely covers her body. Numerous criss-crossing straps secure the dress into place while leaving most of her stomach and chest on display for the Capitol. Two strips of fabric weave their way around her neck as a halter top for her breasts, maintaining the small sliver of composure she has left. Juno has made two large slits in the material right at her hips to naturally draw onlookers' attention downwards. Long sleeves shield her arms from the cold and the snug fabric grips tightly to her legs, reaching all the way to the floor. The rest of the dress is fashioned from a sheer material that leaves little to the imagination.

"Stop fussing with it." Magenta reprimands, lightly slapping her hands away. He was the one leading her to the entrance of the Presidential Palace, despite protesting profusely about the role (he wouldn't admit it outloud, but he had become quite terrified of the girl).

Dahlia glares at the man, who quickly recoils in fear. "Touch me again, see what happens." She threatens menacingly, already at the end of her tether after being forced into this dress. Tugging uncomfortably at the material, she groans loudly in annoyance. "Why the fuck would Snow want me to wear this?"

"He wants to show off your... assets." Magenta replies carefully, gesturing vaguely to her body.

Dahlia scoffs in irritation, "My assets are my heartless nature and my skills at killing Careers, not my body." Groaning to herself, she stomps up the steps like a stubborn child.

"It is not that bad, my dear. Stop your incessant complaints." Magenta chastises with a huff, following behind the girl with a flourish of his gown. "Honestly! It's like taking care of a child."

"In case the detail has slipped your mind during your lavish time in the Capitol, I am a child." Dahlia points out fiercely, not pausing in her angry advance up the stairs. "And I notice you're modestly dressed this evening, Mag. Why don't you wear one of my outfits for a change and we'll see how you feel?"

"Now listen here, young lady." Magenta calls out, making the girl pause on the steps to let him catch up. "You are not a normal District Five girl anymore. You are a Victor. That means all eyes will be on you. You cannot afford to make any more mistakes. Tonight, you must be flawless. Do I make myself clear?"

Dahlia stares up at the Capitolian man in disdain before forcing a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. "Crystal." She answers fakely before letting the grin drop immediately. Turning on her heel, she storms up the rest of the steps and leaves the escort grumbling in the dust.

The colourful crowd greets her with a roar of applause, their extravagant outfits making Dahlia want to rip her eyes out. They cheer and welcome her, separating to create a small path for her to slip through. Head held high and detached persona in place, she enters the lion's den with as much confidence as she can portray. She tries not to flinch as strangers reach out to touch her, their foreign touch trailing over her exposed skin like mucus from a snail. They don't care much for boundaries or personal space. To them, she was a museum exhibit or a new creature in a zoo. She was merely there for their own admiration and entertainment.

The lustful gazes follow her all the way into the building, only getting worse as she becomes swallowed up by the masses. Everyone seems to be undressing her with their eyes or staring as if they can see right through the fabric. Dahlia feels greatly out of her depth, so overwhelmed by the outrageous fashions and wandering eyes. They are hungry wolves drooling in desperation for a meal and she just so happens to be their next target. She breathes an audible sigh of relief as Alaric approaches and swiftly guides her to safety.

"I see you have already managed to ditch Magenta." He comments proudly, letting the girl loop her arm through his. "That didn't take long."

"I grew bored of the lecture." Dahlia mutters, allowing Alaric to lead her out into the magnificent gardens. "I don't know how you've gone this long without killing him."

"Trust me, it's very tempting." Alaric responds as the two chuckle at the escort's expense.

"What are you two gossiping about?" Finnick's voice interrupts as he manages to detangle himself from the horde of flirty Capitol women and join them on the outskirts of the celebration.

Alaric doesn't miss the way Dahlia perks up at the boy's presence as she cheekily replies, "Just discussing your dedicated fan club over there." She nods at the mob of females who seem pretty devastated by Finnick abandoning them. "I think a few of them are hatching a plan to execute me."

"Or preparing to throw themselves at golden boy." Alaric chimes in with a childish wink at Dahlia.

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Finnick states with a roll of his eyes, arms folded across his chest in exasperation. "Mags was looking for you earlier, Alaric. Something to do with some of the other Victors."

Alaric sighs deeply before turning to face Dahlia. His hands rest on her shoulders as he asks sincerely, "Are you going to be okay by yourself, flower?"

"I'll be fine, Al." She reassures him with a tight-lipped smile. Internally, she was a bit wary of being separated from her most trusted confidante but she couldn't hold onto his hand forever. "Besides, Finnick's here. He can make sure I don't get devoured by his jealous supporters."

"Hmm." Alaric hums, looking the boy up and down with narrowed eyes. "One scratch on her and you know what I'm capable of." He warns protectively, planting a fond kiss on Dahlia's head before disappearing into the congested crowds.

"So," Dahlia chirps, swivelling to Finnick with a soft smile. "Is there anything good at these parties?"

"Umm, not really... Should I be worried about that threat?" Finnick questions warily, jerking his thumb in the direction Alaric had left.

Dahlia waves off his concern, "Alaric's harmless, really." Finnick sends her a pointed look which has her editing her statement. "As harmless as a Victor can be. He's just a bit on edge in the Capitol."

"I mean, we are quite literally swimming with the sharks here." Finnick mutters as the pair discreetly eye up the people around them. "You can never let your guard down."

"Good thing I've got you here to keep me safe." Dahlia grins at the boy who offers his arm in a gentlemanly manner. With her arm resting snuggly in the bend of his elbow, Finnick and Dahlia stroll aimlessly around the party. They poke fun at the ridiculous costumes and wild hairstyles, find solace in fellow Victors and laugh freely like little kids crashing an adult function. The pair can act their age around each other, not needing to fulfill their mature personas. They can simply be Finnick and Dahlia. Finn and Lia. Two normal kids at a normal party. "Uh oh."

"What?" Finnick asks, head whipping round to spot any possible dangers nearby.

Dahlia visibly cringes as she gestures towards a fuming and rather frazzled Magenta. "My district escort's on the war path. Hide me."

"Dahlia!" The man snaps, setting his sights on the girl who seems intent on making his life more difficult. Sighing in defeat, Dahlia turns around to receive her scolding from the melodramatic escort. "You have not been mingling, my dear. This is an opportunity for socialising, not hiding away in the corner."

"If you'll excuse us," Finnick cuts in, taking Dahlia by surprise as he grasps her hand in his own. "We were just about to take a spin on the dancefloor."

"We were?" Dahlia ponders, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Finnick squeezes her hand with an awkward chuckle, gesturing with his eyes for the girl to go along with it. "Yes. We were." Dragging Finnick along, Dahlia sends the escort a quick smile in passing before rushing to the floor. "You're my hero, Finn."

"You nearly sabotaged yourself there, Lia." Finnick sniggers, making the girl deliver a harsh smack to his arm. "Ow!"

"Oh, hush. That didn't hurt." Dahlia argues, skirting around a large group of people gathered at the edge of the dancefloor.

"It hurt my feelings." Finnick retorts playfully as the two slow to a stop under the blinding spotlights. A slow waltz begins to play and numerous couples take to the floor, each one more flamboyant than the last. Finnick and Dahlia stick out in their dark attire, but compliment each other better than anyone else. Neither tries to upstage the other, both content to be equals.

"Is now a good time to tell you that I don't actually know how to dance?" Dahlia questions sheepishly, conscious of the various pairs of eyes watching the two youngest Victors.

"That's alright. You're in safe hands." Finnick assures her with a comforting grin. "Put your left hand on my shoulder." Dahlia follows his instructions, letting her hand find its home on his right shoulder. "You're gonna have to come a bit closer, Lia." Dahlia shuffles forward awkwardly, not used to being in such close proximity with a boy her age. Finnick chuckles softly, "Come on. I don't bite. A bit closer." At his taunting, Dahlia rolls her eyes but nevertheless steps forward again. "Even closer." He orders teasingly with a smirk on his lips. With an irritated huff, Dahlia closes the gap between them until they stand chest-to-chest.

She has to tilt her head up to look at the boy who stares down at her with a beaming grin. Doing her best to conceal her flushed cheeks, Dahlia quirks her brow at Finnick. "Is that better?"

"That's perfect." He replies happily, snaking his right hand around Dahlia's waist to rest on the small of her back. The intimate touch has her body tensing up on instinct but Finnick's thumb rubs gentle circles into her skin. She melts into him, intoxicated by the scent of the sea surrounding her senses. Finnick leans down to whisper into her ear, "Follow my lead."

With a nod to convey her trust in the boy, the pair begin to sway along to the music. Dahlia's steps are hesitant and ragged compared to Finnick's confident ones as he basically drags her along the floor. Her eyes are glued to her feet which stumble clumsily around with a severe lack of grace.

"Lia." The girl hums to show him that she is listening, but her gaze doesn't lift. "Lia, look at me." Dahlia finally raises her eyes up to Finnick's face, an uncharacteristically shy smile decorating her lips. "Don't focus on what your feet are doing or the people watching. Eyes on me and breathe."

As if floating on a cloud, the pair glide across the floor, capturing the hearts of every spectator. But nothing else mattered to them. The music disappeared, all pressures were relieved and heartbeats sped up due to excitement, not fear. It was as though they were the only people on the floor. 

Dahlia never knew sea-green eyes would offer her first taste of peace after a lifetime of fighting. But Finnick always knew there was a glimmer of light in those notoriously dark eyes.

"You look beautiful by the way." Finnick murmurs quietly, not daring to look away from the sharp and dangerous features that had him bewitched under their spell. Beautiful couldn't even begin to describe the sight in front of him. Heavenly, captivating, ethereal... That was more befitting for the girl in his arms. A fallen angel was what he saw in the devil that Snow had created.

"Really?" Dahlia recoils in shock, not entirely convinced by the compliment. "I thought the dress was a bit much. It's so revealing. I don't know what Juno was thinking."

"I wasn't talking about the dress, little flower." Finnick corrects, an adoring gleam present in his eye which wasn't missed by the two mentors spying nearby. "I was talking about you."

Dahlia's brows soften as a smile tugs at the edge of her lips. "Thank you." She responds earnestly, finding herself trapped by Finnick's magnetic gaze. "You don't look so bad yourself."

They longed to stay bewitched under this enchanting spell for the remainder of the evening, but Dahlia finds that all good things in her life come to an abrupt end. The moment is interrupted by the orchestra striking a familiar tune to announce President Snow. Dahlia tenses up and steps away from Finnick to stare up at the balcony Snow would emerge from.

"It's alright." Finnick whispers soothingly to her, capturing her hand once more. "I'm here." With a deep breath and an assertive nod, the two join the crowds gathering beneath the majestic building. The crowds erupt with enthusiastic applause as the man himself steps out in a regal manner. Dahlia refuses to clap for that man. Instead, she squeezes Finnick's hand three times and winds her other hand around his arm. She's unsure if the boy understands the meaning behind the gesture until he repeats the action back. A small smile pierces the Black Dahlia mask she'd recovered moments ago, eyes flickering up to meet Finnick's doting stare. While the attention of the Capitol is fixed on their leader, Dahlia and Finnick are more focused on each other.

"Tonight," Snow begins once the crowds settle into silence. "On this, the last day of her tour, I want to welcome our Victor. A young woman who embodies our ideals of strength and valour." Dahlia keeps her face stony and expressionless as many heads turn to face her. "And I can't wait to see what surprises await her when she returns home."