A Prince, His Princess and the Witch

Haymitch watched the progress of the Games for the rest of the night. After the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, he knew the Gamemakers wouldn't take control again until the earliest hours of the following day, but he wouldn't get any sleep before dawn anyway. Most of the remaining tributes had retreated to hiding spots to rest. Only a few lone figures still roamed the arena, and they seemed uncertain of how to handle their situation.

Both of the tributes from District 12 had survived the Cornucopia. Haymitch couldn't decide if he was relieved or resigned about it. He knew neither of the kids had what it took to win. So why bother getting his hopes up only to have them shattered in the end? He wasn't like Effie, who believed with every fiber of her being despite the odds. He was sure that next year, she wouldn't be as enthusiastic. The first year broke everyone — his as much as hers.

At some point, as the sun began to break over the eastern mountain peaks, he finally drifted off. Sleep brought no relief. His dreams replayed the same horrors, only it was always his arena. The faces of the children had never managed to infiltrate his nightmares, and though he felt guilty for it, he was also relieved. The list of people he had lost was already long enough. So many years had passed since his victory that even his memories were beginning to fade. The memories of his family were slowly but surely slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He still remembered what they looked like: the color of their eyes, the way their faces shifted with every emotion, their voices. And yet, their faces had lost clarity. It was as if he were looking through frosted glass when he tried to conjure their images, which he rarely did. It was a fear that sent a cold chill through his body every time he woke. He felt ashamed, guiltier for their deaths than he already did. The memories of them still hurt as much as the day he'd received the news of their deaths. That would never change. Never.

The knock on the door woke Haymitch and he was almost grateful to be startled out of his dream. Effie didn't wait for an answer from him, she was in too much of a hurry. All she wanted was to remind him to get ready. Then the clicking of her high heels could be heard walking away down the hall.

Haymitch turned his head and stared at the digital clock on his nightstand. He had missed breakfast and he was glad about it. He wouldn't have gone anyway. Because of her. While his dreams still held the same surprises for him as always, the reality around him had changed more than a little. Haymitch was reluctant to meet Effie. He didn't know what to say or do, let alone what she expected of him.

Effie had kissed him and irrevocably crossed the barrier between them. Just like he had done a few days before, but he had been drunk then. That was different. When she kissed him, it felt more binding than when he kissed her. He couldn't say why he felt that way.

If you think I have feelings for Seneca, you're wrong. What was that supposed to mean? Haymitch couldn't deny that this man's intervention had bothered him. Seneca Crane was a Gamemaker and thus probably one of the greatest evils in Panem. Of course he had bothered him. But what were those words of hers about? It wasn't as if he felt anything for Effie. He barely knew her. There was a certain connection, a tension, an affection and Haymitch didn't understand any of it, but no feelings. He would never be able to feel anything for a woman from the Capitol. Never. This place had taken too much from him for that. But what were those words supposed to mean then? Had she wanted to imply that she had feelings for him? That was also more than silly. And yet the kiss had felt so real, so good, so familiar that for a second he had forgotten that it was the Capitol that he had been holding in his arms.

The sun was now higher in the sky. Haymitch stood fully dressed in the living room, waiting for Effie. Just like yesterday. It was still early, and nothing had yet happened in the arena, but that was how it had to be if they wanted to be in the sponsors' lounge before anything important took place. When Effie entered the room and he turned to face her, he had to hold back his astonishment. Normally, standing next to her in his tailored, expensive suit made him feel underdressed, but her appearance today took things to another level.

The gown that enveloped Effie was floor-length, yet it didn't hide an inch of her form. Flower-shaped patterns with colorful gemstones clung tightly to her skin, forming puffed sleeves at her shoulders that completely covered her arms. That was all there was to cover because at her chest, the fabric parted into a deep neckline, barely managing to conceal anything inappropriate. Below her hips, the material transitioned into a sheer, rhinestone-encrusted fabric that glided over the floor like a veil. It was entirely transparent, revealing her long legs underneath.

Haymitch could see the flicker of tension Effie carefully hid behind her mask as she looked up from her shoes. She must have been just as nervous to face him after last night. Their eyes met, and a wave of uncertainty surged through him. This affection could turn into something more if you're not careful, a panicked voice in his head noted. He forced his usual smirk as he began to speak. "You're taking quite the risk today."

Effie rolled her eyes and sighed but continued to approach him. Her fingers nervously toyed with the hem of her dress. She was actually nervous. The first question that crossed Haymitch's mind was whether she regretted the kiss. After a moment of hesitation, her lips curved into a smile. "Do you think it is too much?"

Haymitch instinctively shook his head. For Effie, the dress might have been bold, but in the upper echelons of society, which they would encounter in the sponsors' lounge, such an outfit was far from uncommon. His eyes traveled over her face and up to her hair. What would stand out more, he realized with some surprise, was the absence of a wig. "You look good."

Effie's smile widened, and she took another step toward him. "So do you," she said, brushing a hand over the dark blue jacket of his suit.

Haymitch lowered his gaze and had to hold himself back from once again falling over the edge of the knife into the abyss. His fingertips tingled with the urge to just pull her into him and let the damn fans and reporters downstairs wait. He knew he shouldn't, because it was wrong. Wrong. She is the Capitol. That thought alone kept him from doing it. Instead, he extended his arm for her to hook into. "Let's not keep Elowen and Ramon waiting."

oOo

Effie's grip on Haymitch's arm was a little tighter than usual. If he noticed, he didn't say anything, letting her be. She wasn't sure how he would react after the kiss from the night before. But apart from that brief moment where they had both hesitated and exchanged an oddly uncertain look, everything seemed the same as always. Effie wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed about it. She didn't know if kissing him had been the right decision. After all, they were still colleagues, and that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

The glass elevator whisked them down to the ground floor so quickly that Effie barely had time to wonder if the silence between them was awkward or not. As the doors slid open to the outside, she risked a quick glance at Haymitch from the corner of her eye. The young victor was staring intently at the large gates of the Training Center, through which they would soon step out into the public. She was about to look away when he turned his head toward her, and their eyes met.

There was an unusual calmness about Haymitch. His lips curled into a small smile, and Effie felt a warmth spread through her body. She ignored the feeling, knowing there was no room for it here. She couldn't have put it into words anyway. "I'll smile obediently, don't worry," Haymitch said, pulling his mouth into a ridiculous grin that looked more like a clown's mask.

Effie rolled her eyes, shaking her head, distracted by one of his usual jokes. "That is better than the depressing look you had yesterday," she replied, her tone light and free of any real bite, letting him know she didn't mean it. "I am not worried. I know you will not let me down."

Effie could see the calm features on Haymitch's face stiffen and lose their smoothness in an instant. She suppressed a sigh, knowing what he was going to say before he even said the words. "You shouldn't get used to it."

With Haymitch, it was so easy to be thrown off course. In hindsight, one could wonder what had caused the sudden mood shift, but that never really brought any clarity. Effie knew there were topics that triggered a strong reaction from him, and to her frustration, she could understand much of his pain and anger. A part of her, the ignorant, self-satisfied part, wished she couldn't. The night Haymitch had revealed the truth about Laetitia Lowell and the unofficial favors behind the Games had shaken her irreversibly. Now that she had seen behind the curtain, everything was so different from how she had imagined it. It was as if someone had peeled back a layer of fog that had clouded her vision of the world for years. With each passing day, she felt as though she could see a little more clearly, slowly waking from a never-ending trance, while everyone around her continued to embrace it. Whether willingly or because there was no other choice.

Here, it's so easy to forget what's real and surreal. How had she overlooked the line between reality and fiction? It had only truly hit her when she'd spoken the words aloud. Effie understood Haymitch's anger, but she couldn't feel it herself. Instead of rage, there was only a deep sorrow born from inevitability. The Games had always existed, and Haymitch's fury would never change that. Never.

We were raised to support them. To the people in the Capitol, the Games were nothing more than an event that took place once a year. Like a sporting event or a new season of a television show. The Games were just there, part of life, impossible to imagine being without. No one was forced to watch. They simply existed, and while everyone knew about them and there was a huge spectacle surrounding them each year, they were too distant for anyone to truly take note of the suffering. You could just turn it off if you wanted to. The Games were like a religion: most people were part of it, but only a handful truly believed in its God with fervor. Most went through the rituals out of respect for their parents or for the privileges that came with it, but they didn't give it a prominent place in their lives — if they believed at all.

Do you support the Hunger Games? It was such a simple question, and yet Effie had no clear answer. Until she started working as District 12's escort, her answer would surely have been a simple Yes. But now, so far away from the television in her apartment, where everything had suddenly become personal, it was more complicated. Because that was what the people in the Capitol were missing from the Hunger Games: proximity. Had the Hunger Games ever felt real to her? No. Now they did. On the one hand, there was Haymitch, whose suffering had caught her so off guard because it had never occurred to her that a victor could be unhappy. Effie was ashamed of her naivety, of her ignorance. On the other hand, there were the children who would either die or end up like Haymitch. The thought frightened her so much that she sometimes had trouble breathing. So what was her answer to that question? What would be the consequences of saying No? Effie didn't know anyone who didn't support the Games. She had friends who weren't interested in them and didn't actively pursue them, but she had never heard anyone speak out against them.

The crowd cheered as Effie and Haymitch stepped outside. The Peacekeepers had already formed a barrier, just like the day before, behind which reporters took their pictures, and a camera crew broadcast live footage to the television studio. Fans gathered here to catch a glimpse of the District teams. The Hunger Games had fans, and not just a few. Just like every movie and TV series had its fans. The only celebrities more revered than singers and actors were victors.

Effie put on a broad smile, let go of Haymitch, and stepped up to the people behind the barrier, waving. The paparazzi immediately swarmed her, asking her general questions while she posed for their photos, turning around to show off her dress. She only caught out of the corner of her eye how Haymitch approached a group of particularly loud fans. The camera crew focused on him, but that didn't bother Effie as long as he made a good impression for the viewers and sponsors behind the screens. It wasn't until the sudden, surprised gasp of the crowd and Haymitch's demanding voice startled her that she snapped out of her concentration. She turned her head to the side and saw Haymitch, leaning halfway against the barrier, holding a black marker. Someone in the crowd had gripped his wrist. It took Effie a second to spot the woman dressed in pink, her excited eyes fixated on Haymitch. A distorted smile stretched across her face — it looked too wide, too wild. Her long, neon pink nails dug into Haymitch's skin, and she was pulling at his arm with such force that the astonishment flashing across his face made it clear he was struggling to break free from the fan.

Effie didn't know how she moved her feet. All she knew was that a few seconds later, she was at Haymitch's side, gripping the woman's hand with her own nails. "I would kindly ask you to let go to avoid causing a scene," she said in a neutral, calmly relaxed tone. She had been taught how to handle such situations properly.

"I merely want an autograph from Haymitch," the woman explained in a hysterically delighted voice. Her eyes darted from Effie back to Haymitch. "I have been a fan of yours forever, Haymitch!"

Under the pressure that Effie applied to the woman's hand, her grip on Haymitch's wrist loosened and he took a wide step backwards before his eyes darted from Effie to the woman who she was still holding. Haymitch nodded and put on a smile that was so uncharacteristic of him that Effie involuntarily let go of the woman. His gray eyes shone with the surprise that he was trying to hide. In a hectic movement, he signed the piece of paper that the woman held out to him, pressed the pen into her hand and then turned to Effie. They were in the car faster than yesterday, taking no time to answer any more questions from the cameras.

"Are you alright?" Effie asked as the limousine doors closed behind them. The dark-tinted windows offered protection from the curious glances of the people behind the barriers.

Haymitch nodded in a slow motion and stared down at his wrist. "I just got a little startled, that's all," he muttered in a distant voice that made it clear that this kind of attack had thrown him off track. "I don't like not having control over situations like this."

"Very few victors sign autographs," Effie said in an equally quiet voice, leaning over to the other side of the row of seats to open a small cabinet next to the minibar. "I was warned at my induction that there are some crazy fans who would do anything to be close to their idols. They keep all kinds of things here in case of emergency." A small medical tube appeared in her hand and Haymitch raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Why don't I know about this?" he asked, surprised, watching Effie open the tube.

Effie shrugged and a small grin crept onto her face. "You said yourself that you have not attended many events in recent years." She held out her hand to his, a silent invitation in her blue eyes, which Haymitch complied with without hesitation.

He watched her spread a cool cream on his skin and wondered if the heat that flared up there was an effect of the medicine or caused by Effie's touch. Haymitch closed his eyes for a moment, pressed his lips together, and then sighed. He ignored Effie's questioning look and instead squeezed her hand, which rested perfectly still between his fingers. He knew he was being stupid and wrong. Every fiber of his body knew it as he leaned over to her and stroked her cheek with his other hand. He ignored the voices, the warnings. He didn't have the strength to do it. Effie was like a magnet, whose pull was too strong to avoid her for long. The car drove through the streets of the Capitol, but Haymitch didn't let go of Effie's hand until it came to a stop in front of the tall building of the sponsors' lounge.

"We'll get through this, princess," Haymitch said before getting out of the car, not really knowing what he meant himself. Effie followed him. Each of her steps was graceful and precise. Every inch of her body seemed to glow in the dress she was wearing. A smile adorned her soft, red lips as her cornflower-blue eyes met Haymitch's and she linked arms with him.

The red carpet stretched out before them. As usual, District 12 was the last on the list, fitting their usual place. Effie posed for the numerous cameras, smiling into the flurry of flashes, while Haymitch trailed behind her somewhat lost. The redness from the crazy fan's grip on his arm had completely faded. When it was finally their turn to give a short interview, Effie stepped slightly away from Haymitch. She didn't want them to appear too close to the nation so soon, as it would spark rumors. There were always whispers about the relationships between mentors and escorts, and while that kind of speculation helped stir interest, it was too early for it now.

"Your presence at these events is rather the exception, Haymitch," the reporter commented with a mischievous grin, eyeing him. "You have already hinted that Effie Trinket is not entirely innocent when it comes to the fresh winds blowing through District Twelve. But what exactly has changed?"

Haymitch's lips twisted into an indifferent smirk, and he shrugged as if the question bored him. "You learn quickly that Effie Trinket always gets what she sets her mind to. You're more collateral damage than having any choice in the matter. Maybe her parents should've taught her some manners instead of raising her as a spoiled brat."

The reporter chuckled, but Effie shot Haymitch a dark look. Haymitch raised his hands defensively as though he was innocent. "Just a joke, sweetheart," he added with a grin to the camera before his face grew a bit more serious. "No, seriously, these events aren't normally my thing, but with Effie now taking the role as escort, her arguments convinced me to join her."

Effie blushed a little at Haymitch's words. From his mouth, it sounded as if she had manipulated him into accompanying her here. Of course, it had taken some convincing to make him understand her arguments, but in the end, he was here of his own free will. Intentional or not, he made it sound as if the Capitol had sent her to control him. "After all, the top priority is to support Elowen and Ramon as best we can," she added with a broad smile. "Our job is best done from the sponsors' lounge."

The conversation with the reporter was different from their previous one on the day of the tribute interviews. They both behaved differently, that couldn't be denied. Haymitch grinned more, even if he retained his sarcastic streak. But there was no trace of the arrogant, distant victor he usually liked to pretend to be. Even during the search for sponsors, when there were no cameras on them, something in their dynamic had changed. Neither of them mentioned it, but they were aware that the other noticed. It was as if their bodies were subconsciously seeking each other's proximity. Apparently accidental touches, a light brush of hands, standing close to each other. It was as if they were trapped in a bubble where there was a tension that no one else noticed.

Nevertheless, the search for sponsors proved difficult. District 12 was still far down the food chain, and Elowen and Ramon's survival on the first day was only a small milestone. Effie and Haymitch decided to first compete together for the attention of sponsors. Engaging them in conversation was the easy part of their task, but giving them sensible arguments why investing in 12 was worthwhile was more complicated. And not every sponsor was well-disposed towards them. A few tried to tease out useful information about the children's weaknesses or held them in a lengthy conversation, only to ultimately decide against supporting them. It was nothing new that sponsors also tried to play their game.

By the afternoon, Effie's positive mood had run its course. An angry look was on her face and every effort to hide it failed. Haymitch regarded her with exhausted eyes and squeezed her arm in a silent reminder that she needed to control her moves better. She knew they were being watched, of course, after all, that was one of the purposes behind her work with the sponsors: even if they might refuse support at first, it was good to know their faces. Depending on how the children's position changed over the course of the Games, that could turn the tide.

Effie sighed to herself and forced a smile onto her lips as she stole a glass from a passing Avox's tray. She felt Haymitch's eyes on her and raised her head, only to see that he too was now holding a glass in his hand. Her arched brows rose almost automatically when she saw the sparkling, golden champagne. It didn't suit him. His usual choice was stronger. Whiskey or vodka or one of those colorful drinks that you only had to look at to know they would knock you out. Still, Effie had to admit that Haymitch had held back so far. She hadn't counted, but he hadn't really drunk much. Part of her was happy about that. While she knew he needed the alcohol in a twisted way, she also knew what long-term effects this addiction could have.

"We should definitely let you do the talking," Haymitch said, sipping his glass without taking his eyes off her over the rim. "But you've been pale all day, like you've seen a ghost. Even layers of makeup can't hide it."

Effie narrowed her eyes into slits but then shook her head. "I am worried about the children," she muttered, her voice low enough for only Haymitch to hear. "Elowen almost got hit."

The day in the arena had started well. The Career tributes had woken up early and prepared for the hunt they were about to begin. Elowen had dared to climb down from her safe perch in the trees to drink from one of the ponds that dotted the swamp. Although she was relatively close to the edge of the jungle, her nearest competitor had been far enough away that she was in no immediate danger. At least, not from other tributes. The Gamemakers had deployed a thick fog throughout the rainforest, designed to disorient the tributes. You could barely see your own hand in front of your face, stumbling blindly between the ponds and ferns, searching for a tree to regain your bearings or avoid a fatal misstep. That was how the boy from District 10 had gotten stuck in the quicksand, where the Careers had found him hours later. Elowen, too, had been caught in the fog while foraging near some berry bushes.

At the same time, the Gamemakers had unleashed a swarm of bat-like mutations, their red eyes glowing eerily in the mist, visible from several meters away. For some unknown reason, they had set their sights on Elowen first. She had panicked, turning and running in the opposite direction as fast as she could. The creatures had pursued her and attacked when she had crashed headlong into a tree. Their clawed legs had scratched her skin and tangled in her hair, but after the initial shock and frantic thrashing, she had managed to break free and continue running — only to fall into one of the unseen swamps, hidden by the fog. The water had been her salvation; the bats hadn't dared follow her any further.

During those nerve-wracking five minutes in which it all had played out, Effie had nearly lost her mind. In her head, she had already begun preparing herself for the girl's death, a thought that had only unsettled her more. Even Haymitch's hand, tightly wrapped around her fingers like a taut wire, had done nothing to calm the chaos inside her.

It was exactly as Haymitch had predicted: She had gotten too attached to the children, and sooner or later, it would cost her dearly.

"It all worked out in the end," Haymitch responded after a pause, his eyes fixed on one of the screens showing Elowen's face. The claws of the mutations had left some bloody scratches, but none were deep or infectious. The shock that had once been etched into her expression was gone. Somehow, she had managed to find her way back to the berry bushes. Half of her body was nestled in one of the shrubs, her head resting against a tree. She was stuffing berries into her mouth, seemingly unconcerned about overindulging. Running with a full stomach wasn't a good idea and could easily be a fatal mistake.

"Just barely," Effie remarked, not seeming satisfied. "I am grateful enough that we do not have to worry about Ramon right now."

"Elowen is fine, sweetheart. See for yourself!" Haymitch pointed with his chin at the screen behind them. Effie's eyes followed his gaze and a small smile crept across her face. "And Ramon is fine too. Thanks to you."

By midday, Ramon had received his first sponsor gift, and both he and Haymitch had worn expressions of disbelief, as though unable to fully grasp the reality of it. Effie downplayed any praise directed at her, seeing it as a small triumph, but Haymitch had been so delighted with the gift that he had nearly lifted her off the ground in front of the elderly woman who had provided the much-needed funds. Just seeing the joy in his eyes had made all her efforts worthwhile. It was District 12's first sponsor gift, and the media certainly took notice. Though the mini-package contained only a water container, dried meat, and some bread, it was enough to put District 12 into the conversation. For now, it was more than they could have hoped for.

A disgruntled snort from Haymitch pulled Effie from her daydream. "And here I thought we'd finally gotten rid of the old witch," he muttered, a chilling edge in his voice.

Not far from Effie and Haymitch stood Petunia, surrounded by a small group of sponsors. The former escort of District 12 seemed to be holding court, talking animatedly. A strange look was plastered on her face, causing Effie to take a step toward her instinctively, but Haymitch caught her wrist. "What is she doing here?"

"The better question is, what's she doing with the sponsors we just worked over," Haymitch replied, crossing his arms as he stood beside Effie. They silently observed for a few minutes, watching as Petunia charmed the sponsors with her overly bright, obviously fake smile and easy jokes.

The woman wore a tight, light green dress that formed a wide collar around the back of her neck, resembling the fanned wheel of a peacock. Perched on her head was an orange-red wig, towering high and adorned with three greenish-yellow feathers. Her arms were covered up to her elbows by long, golden gloves. On her right hand, a red ruby gleamed from a gold ring that she wore over the glove, and around her neck hung a massive chain of golden flowers, with dark green gemstones embedded in their centers. The train of her dress trailed half a meter behind her on the floor.

"We need to find out what she is up to," Effie whispered to Haymitch, who was close enough that she barely had to turn her head. A calculating tone had crept into her voice. "I do not have a good feeling about this."

"I've never had a good feeling about that woman," Haymitch grunted, following Effie as she moved, her face set in a mask of polite detachment.

"Petunia!" she called over the people's chatter and made her way to her former teacher's side. "What a surprise to see you here."

The older woman's face froze when she saw Effie, who had come to stand next to her and was giving the sponsors a friendly nod. Petunia's poisonous green eyes flicked over her successor for a moment and then moved on to Haymitch. Her expression darkened at the sight of the former victor, with whom she had worked for many years. It surprised Effie. Petunia wasn't usually one to show her disapproval in public. And yet she clearly didn't seem pleased to see her and Haymitch.

"Effie," Petunia greeted in a neutral voice, but didn't smile. Instead, a slightly worried expression crept across her face. Effie couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. "I was wondering where you were, my dear. You do not win sponsors by getting drunk at the bar with your mentor."

"You're the expert on winning over sponsors, after all," Haymitch retorted sharply, cutting off Effie before she could respond. It seemed he was as indifferent to the sponsors' presence as Petunia was. "The last fourteen years must have been quite educational."

Petunia glared at Haymitch, as though trying to kill him with her eyes. Effie intervened before she could retort. "It is a shame you have gotten that impression, Petunia. I can assure you that this is our first break since our arrival this morning. Perhaps you have heard that we have already managed to win over a lovely lady."

"I have indeed heard about it," Petunia admitted, her red lips curling into a tight smirk. Effie recognized the look and was taken aback. She is jealous. Haymitch had been right again: Petunia had had fourteen years to make something of District 12 and had failed. Effie had succeeded in her first season, even if one sponsor gift was hardly worth bragging about. "That is why I have merely assured these fine folks here not to be misled by it."

"I beg your pardon?" Effie asked, both stunned and dismayed. Her premonition was rapidly taking shape. She could feel Haymitch's hand clenching into a fist beside her. His fingers were so close that the draft from his movement brushed against her dress.

"As a former escort of District Twelve, I feel it is my duty to warn potential donors against making the wrong decision," Petunia explained, now in a tone as if she were speaking to a small child. "There is a lot of money at stake here, my dear. I am sure you understand."

"In other words, you're sabotaging our work," Haymitch said. His dark eyes were fixed on Petunia, and Effie was surprised at how calm he remained. She knew he had no love for the woman. She had seen them fighting.

"Not at all, Haymitch, I am merely telling the truth." A mischievous smile played on Petunia's lips and Effie had to fight back the anger in her chest. Petunia was stringing them along. She was playing with them. This was her grand finale before no one remembered her anymore. A quick glance at the sponsors told Effie that there was no chance of future deals with them. Whatever Petunia had told them had worked.

"And what would that be?" asked Effie.

"I told them what really lies behind Ramon's bad boy facade. That the crazy boy almost killed you, poor thing, twice," said Petunia, pressing her hands together in a ceremonial gesture. Like a teacher. Then the right corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "And the girl is of no importance anyway."

Haymitch grabbed Effie's wrist before she even knew what her own body was up to. She felt her legs moving forward, but Haymitch stopped her. Effie wasn't a person of negative emotions. Before the Hunger Games, she had been the picture of politeness and manners. What had happened? The colors in front of her eyes had taken on a reddish hue, as if she was looking at Petunia's face through a colored lens. An unknown heat coursed through her veins, blocking any clear thought for a few seconds.

That is not you, warned a frightened voice in Effie's head. What have these people done to you? But maybe she had simply had no reason to be this furious until now. Her world, the Capitol, her life had been good. Until she had decided to take part in the Hunger Games.

"Our children's lives are at stake here, Petunia," Effie whispered. Her voice sounded strangely alien to her own ears, as if it were someone else saying the words. "How can you sabotage this so carelessly?"

"You sound like Haymitch," was all Petunia said in response. Her eyes had darkened and she was now looking at Effie with a different expression. The way she looked at Haymitch when she was forced to interact with him. "If you had been less focused on your mentor, you would be ashamed of your words. To accuse me of such a thing is more than just grossly rude, Effie."

An almost sarcastic laugh escaped Effie's throat as she tilted her head to the side. "I see what you are trying to do. We both know you have no concern for the well-being of District Twelve. Let me tell you, I will not tolerate any further interference in our work, Petunia."

"Are you threatening me?" Petunia twisted her mouth into an indignant mask and took a step toward Effie. The two women were almost eye-to-eye in their high heels. Effie was a little shorter than Petunia, but that didn't intimidate her. She lifted her chin and returned the older woman's gaze with complete seriousness, just about to open her mouth to answer the question in the affirmative when Haymitch tugged on her wrist.

Effie turned her head annoyed towards Haymitch, glaring at him with her icy blue eyes. She didn't need to raise her eyebrows for him to understand her unspoken question. What do you want? "Leave the old woman alone," was all he said before pulling her away from Petunia. Effie pivoted on her heel and followed Haymitch, not casting a final glance at Petunia. Leaving her standing there among the sponsors would be uncomfortable enough for her.

As they made their way through the crowd, Effie noticed that some people were giving them strange looks. The altercation with her former mentor had clearly caught the attention of a few. This wasn't good. Loaded emotions or not; disputes that went beyond a subtle tone were unwelcome here.

"How can you stay so calm?" Effie hissed angrily, wrenching her arm free from Haymitch's grasp. The first wave of fury had subsided, but it was far from over.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm just as pissed as you are," Haymitch said, stopping at the edge of the entrance to the lounge. He leaned against one of the antique-looking columns, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes scanned the crowd. "I just have different ways of taking the trash out." As if on cue, he raised his hand. Effie followed his gaze and spotted Chaff, sitting at the bar with another victor from District 11, and realized that he was signaling to his friend.

Chaff left his drink on the counter as he approached Haymitch and Effie, squinting as he got closer. He studied Effie for a moment with a look of dissatisfaction that she didn't quite understand. Then a mischievous grin spread across his face, and he gave Haymitch a playful pat on the shoulder with his stump before bowing deeply. "Look at me, I'm such a lucky guy, getting a personal audience with the royal couple. The honor is all mine."

Haymitch snorted and rolled his eyes. "I need your help with something."

-

Petunia is back, and she's nastier than ever! Something is definitely going down in the next chapter! Did you like this one? Let me know! ;)

Skyllen