A/N: Okay guys, sorry about the long wait, I have been suffering some writers block with this particular story but I hope I can start pumping out chapters every second week if not before. (: Thanks so much for your comments and I hope you keep them coming. They inspire me to finish this book! Love you guys x

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“Now Caesar I think your technique is a little rough!” I giggled as I stood beside Caesar on a smaller stage in front of a long kitchen bench.

I was virtually spotless in my petite baking outfit – and enormous shoes – while he was covered in flour and had a perfectly placed spot of cake batter on the end of his nose.

“It’s harder than it looks!” He gaped to the small crowd of people as he put down the bowl and put his hands behind his back to watch me mix the red velvet mixture. “Now that is what I call a cake in the making!”

We’d already been here for a few hours, there was some red meat in a pot on the stove being tenderised as I baked this cake and some pastry set aside for another sweet dish. All of my energy was directed into acting happy and bubbly that I didn’t even care if my food tasted any good.

I was up all last night baking a cake for Peeta to decorate. I am just exhausted.

The worst part is that this is nowhere near over. I still have a few hours here and then tonight was the cocktail party in one of the flashiest hotels in the Capitol. It was a private function, reserved for the victor, their mentor and escort – and in my case my family – as well as the elite members of society or anyone willing to pay the price. I’m willing to bet anything that the price was no less than five figures.

I poured the mixture into a large cake tin and wiped my brow as I closed the oven for another hour.

“Now we’ll be back in just a while, even victors and big time stars, such as myself, need a bit of a break.” He grinned and waved as we headed out of the kitchen and into a lounge area.

I saw Peeta standing with a hot drink in hand and an earpiece in. I didn't know who was talking in his ear but they seemed to be quiet at this moment.

“How’s it going out there?” He asked.

“Well, you know what they say… if you can’t stand the heat…” I muttered as an avox handed me a cup and poured me a glass of hot tea.

“Get out of the kitchen?” Peeta smiled.

I sighed. “Did you finish your icing?”

“All done, I finished it a long while ago.”

“Lucky you.” I grunted as I took a long awaited seat.

“Just take five minutes to breathe, don’t wear yourself out before the big party tonight.” I groaned again and he smiled.

It felt like no time at all before I was back in front of the small audience with the biggest smile as I finished up my baking.

Caesar pulled the most over-the-top faces when he tried my food. It’s good, but surely it’s not that good. The meat was now in a stew and Caesar was stuffing his face humorously before pouring some into bowls to pass to the crowd. Then it was on to the pastry tart that I had made and finally the cake.

It was covered in a buttery icing, a plain buttery icing that looked alright but nothing magnificent.

“Well this looks… well this looks quite lovely.” Caesar said.

I smiled wryly. “I agree Caesar; it isn’t much to look at, is it?” He said nothing so I gestured to the side of the stage. “Peeta, won't you come out here!”

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers as Peeta came out pushing a cart with a sheet over it. He gave them all a smile as he pulled it off and revealed his masterpiece.

Everyone was in awe of his artwork in icing on the tri-layered cake. It was like a waterfall of blue and green with rocks at the bottom and a golden sky on the top layer. I had no idea how he had done it. All I was really expecting was a few intricate swirls but he had gone above and beyond.

The look on my face was sheer astonishment and Caesar had the same look across his face and wide open mouth. He babbled about for a while before he shook Peeta’s hand and we finished up our filming.

All I wanted to do was go back to the hotel and sleep but I was whisked off to a specially prepared room in the hotel to get ready for the party.

“I don’t see why I need a good going over every time I have somewhere to go.” I said as Clarina brushed through my hair.

“Well you need to look absolutely perfect don’t you?” She replied.

Cinna came by to drop off an outfit once they were done. “They must be paying you so much in overtime for all this extra work you have.” I said.

He laughed. “I am quite comfortable, yes.”

“How do you think up all of these different outfits in so little time?” I said with a sigh.

“How do you survive the Hunger Games?” I looked up at him, my eyes questioning him sadly so he gave me an answer. “One day at a time.” He said softly.

“You seem like you’d be a pretty good ally to have in a game.” I smiled weakly.

“You can count on me.” He slipped his hand into mine and gave it a squeeze, his firm gaze holding onto mine until we were interrupted by Claudine coming in with some more paint for my eyes.

My make-up had been done very elaborately for this party. My eyelashes were tinted god while my cheeks had ben bronzed to the point if excess. Then of course there were my golden lips.

I looked more than just desirable; I looked unattainable. I suppose that was the idea – with my body draped in a black silk fabric that made me feel naked. It ran half-way down my arms and sat lightly above my knees.

I couldn’t stand to look at myself. I was looking at everything that I couldn’t stand about the Capitol. The moment Peeta saw me I knew that he felt the same way. I was dripping in the lavish products of the ruthless Capitol – oozing the charms and prizes that they promise to the victors of their games but for what price?

The games? No, they were a privilege. Payment for such exuberant gifts and hospitalities was a lifetime of servitude and this outfit said it all. I have no doubt that Cinna made this, but I know that someone else gave him the design.

Peeta offered me his arm as we headed down to the car that was waiting to escort us to our hotel.

The drive was short, too short, and the amount of photographers waiting outside the event was staggering. I think I have a photo-shoot for one of their magazines later in the week but this was sure to grace the daily telecast.

The ballroom was enormous and elaborate, filled with elaborately important people. I walked in with an air of arrogance that I knew was expected of me. Some of them came to greet me and I saw Caledon and Margery across the room. I don’t even think that they recognised me. Katia stood with some investors and eyed me carefully, she was constantly watching.

My stomach was uneasy. I couldn’t let my façade slip for a moment around these people. I was impossibly trapped in a world that I had invited myself into. No one asked me to but what choice did I have?

Something had to be done and this was just the beginning.

“Miss Hanspark.” I spun around quickly to see Seneca Crane standing beside me, two glasses of white liquor in his hands.

He offered me one and I smiled weakly as I took it. “Mr Crane… what a pleasure it is to see you.”

“I can assure you that the pleasure is all mine.” I took a sip of my drink out of courtesy, trying not to gag. “How are you finding District 12? So sorry to have to send you so far from home.”

I smiled sweetly. “It’s quaint. Positively charming… for a working class district. Though I must say, the surroundings hold a lot of cultural value.”

“You are finding that you can continue your studies then?”

“Yes, however if you could bend the rules I could just as easily resume them from here.” I gave him a cheeky grin and he laughed with a smile that vaguely reflected humanity.

“I did try to plead your case… the districts are no place for a girl of your calibre.”

“Are you trying to flatter me Mr Crane?” I fluttered my glittering eyelashes and smiled with my perfectly whitened teeth.

He laughed again. “I promise you that I am spoken for Miss Hanspark, but I do hope you will grant me the honour of a dance later in the night.”

“Well the honour would be all mine.” I smiled to hide my disgust as he nodded and walked over to another group of people.

Almost as soon as he had left I was greeted by someone else. All through the next hour I was met by people who wanted to tell me that they had sponsored me during my stay in the arena – they said it as though I was away on some sadistic little holiday. I felt like I was suffocating in that room and I was close to breaking point when I was greeted by a familiar face.

“Olivia!” Her charming smile came barging through the crowd to meet me.

“Cardenia?” I said, the first traces of a genuine smile reaching my lips.

“The one and only.” She grinned. “Rough time you had there in 2.” Her crass personality made me laugh.

Cardenia graduated five years before me from high school. She is a mathematical genius with a vivid imagination to match. At the top of her graduating class she was approached by one of the game makers to join their team.

Initially she refused the offer, being a part of the Hunger Games wasn’t something that she wanted for herself but the riches they were offering were too much to refuse, especially when they moved her parents to a new home in a particularly good part of the Capitol and bought her a fully furnished flat.

It only took a few years for her to become a fully-fledged game maker. By then it had taken its toll on her, the cruelty, the brutality… she felt responsible. So when she caught wind of a rebellion from an old school professor of ours she was happy to join the cause.

That was how we met.

“Yes, well, it was hardly the reception I expected.” I said.

“I guess not.”

“How’s work?” I asked.

“Highly secretive. I can't be giving you an advantage over the other mentors for next year now can I?” She rolled her eyes and took a long swill on her drink.

“I suppose you can't; it hardly seems fair.” I said, the double entendre blatant.

She laughed loudly. “I will say that our flora is much more… colourful at the moment. A little colour never killed anyone.” Her eyes glinted with a sadistic humour that only she – and Haymitch – could pull off completely.

I nodded knowing that she had her own secret meaning too. She was giving me more of a hint than anyone else here could understand.

“Excuse me ladies… may I cut in with an offer to dance?” An older gentleman smiled at us both before offering me his hand.

I cringed inwardly but I took it, Cardenia raising her glass to me as we left. He led me to the dance floor and kept his distance as he droned on about how thrilling it was to see ‘one of our own’ fighting for glory along with the common riff-raff, victors may they have been. I held my tongue and laughed along with him.

I was almost relieved when Seneca Crane cut in, until he held me a little too close for comfort. I ignored my urge to knee him in the stomach and engaged him in polite conversation and light, vomit inducing flirtations.

“There is something very different about you Olivia.” He said rather suddenly.

It caught me off guard and for a moment I said nothing. What could I say to that?

“Different to what?” I said finally.

“Now that… is a marvellous question.” His bright blue eyes sparkled as they bore down into mine.

As I tried to decipher his words the wealthy heir of one of the mining magnates stole me away to dance. Seneca was gone and I was left in the roaming hands of a man who was clearly enjoying himself.

I felt like a shiny new toy being passed from one person to the next but never really taken care of. Everyone wanted to see me, touch me, experience the fame that I had brought with me from humble beginnings. I was a ragdoll, a pretty little fool.

“May I cut in?” I pulled myself from the young man’s grip to see Peeta standing there with a smile.

He took my hand in his and gave a polite nod to the man that I had just been dancing with before putting his other hand on my waist and swaying slightly to the music.

“Thank you.” I said.

“You looked like you were drowning out there.” Drowning, now that seemed to fit.

It reminded me of an old movie I watched in school, one that had somehow survived the old world as it was known.

Not much had, I was lucky enough to have access to it, particularly studying history.

“It’s quite an arena in here.” I felt his chest rumble as he chuckled a little and I looked over to see Katia staring this way.

Her cold eyes were narrowed as she tried to figure me out.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” He asked.

I nodded silently. I had to be. There was no room for error or lapse in concentration and there was no way out now.

“You don’t need to lie to me.” He said.

I looked back up at him, his soft eyes trying to get me to admit my weakness and I sighed.

“This is so much harder than I ever imagined. Even with friends by my side. I mean, on the outside I’m everything a well brought up Capitol girl should be but my insides tell another story.” He tilted his head and I thought back to that old movie with a sigh. “It’s this party… this lifestyle… I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs and-”

“No one even looks up.” He finished my quote perfectly and I stared at him with an open mouth.

“How did you…?” He gave me a wry little smile.

“You aren’t the only special one here. Remember, I’m a victor too.”

“But that doesn’t mean that-”

“They give me things to amuse myself with in my hotel room, and on the train. I like to watch those old movies, they make me forget where I am for the time at hand. They make me feel like I could be in a better world.” He said.

I couldn’t have explained it better. The wistfulness in his tired eyes was like a plaque, spreading to everyone who had ever taken their place in the Hunger Games and made it out alive, that number was substantially less after the most recent quarter quell.

I pulled him into me, our bodies pressed tightly against one another as we swayed to the music. I desperately wanted to be back home – in District 12. I wanted to be able to tell Haymitch and Caius that I was okay. I could tell them that I was relatively unharmed by everything, minus a few more terrifying additions to my nightmares and that niggling sensation that came whenever I thought about why I had been shot at in District 2.

Otherwise I was… fine. Just fine.

Peeta’s lips leant in close to my ear. “I do believe we’re on a sinking ship.” He whispered.

I smiled and leant my cheek against his so that I could whisper right back into his ear.

“You know what? I think you’re right.” I said.

This night was almost over, I couldn’t wait for this entire tour to be over. But it wouldn’t really be over and done would it? I still have so much more to do.

I guess the question now is when will it be over, and can we really do enough to win?