Rosemary

The Victor's Banquet started long before Rosemary even arrived, it seemed. After she was done with her portraits (the official ones for Hunger Games promotions, interviews, and commercials) she was finally ushered into the large ballroom filled with all the well-to-dos of the Capitol. It was crowded with circular tables evenly spaced out and people loitered here and there around the room, especially by the bar.

"If you need me, I'll probably be at the bar," Haymitch told her, already stepping away from her. She didn't object, though she wanted to. She knew Haymitch needed his alcohol almost as much as he needed oxygen. Still, she wished for his presence, instead of Effie, because at least Haymitch shared her thoughts about the people who lived in the Capitol.

"He'll find us later," Effie assured her, waving Haymitch off with a perky smile. "Now, there are your sponsors to greet and thank and, of course, there are some Gamemakers in attendance. Don't worry, just the higher-ups..."

Effie continued talking as she led her through the room. As Rosemary silently followed, she took note of the people around her. They were dressed luxuriously, though not to Rosemary's personal taste, and were sipping on glasses of champagne, wine, and other spirits she didn't know the names of. They stared at her as she passed and she found herself giving them a polite, toothless smile to acknowledge their presence before she moved on and caught eyes with another person watching her walk by.

She didn't recognize most of the people, though some of them looked familiar. Gamemakers, perhaps, that she'd seen during her training assessment. Once in a great while, she'd spot a couple of Victors chatting amongst themselves, but it was mostly strangers surrounding her.

"Ah, Miss Mellark! Lovely to officially meet you, dear." An older man, with snow-white mutton chops on either side of his bald head, greeted her enthusiastically. It was Misha Tripple, the Head Gamemaker for the last ten Games, including hers. According to Effie, this had been his last year, his retirement party planned for late September.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tripple," Rosemary swallowed any bitterness toward the man and shook his hand with her good one. She couldn't afford another slip up, Haymitch had already warned her. "I apologize for my grip, I'm naturally right-handed."

Misha Tripple grinned at her, his teeth perfect despite their large size. "Of course, my dear! Of course. I must say, I believe you played the Game splendidly. There was nothing too exciting about your performance, sure, but it was consistent throughout. Oh, was the audience surprised when you worked that bystaff, but not us Gamemakers!"

"Oh...thank you," she hoped that he didn't catch her hesitation. She didn't know how to receive a regular compliment, let alone a compliment on her performance in the Hunger Games. Effie nudged her with her sharp elbow, prompting her to compliment the man back. "The arena was truly breathtaking, Mr. Tripple."

"It was great, wasn't it?" he nodded in self-satisfaction. "Not as good as the 69th, but still breathtaking in its own way."

The year before, she remembered, was the arena that drowned three out of four final Tributes because an earthquake damaged the dam. The only reason Annie Cresta survived was because she was from District 4 and knew how to swim.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Effie escorted her away to the next Gamemaker. His name was Plutarch Heavensbee, a portly man in his late 40s with a kind face. He studied her with a thoughtful expression as they made a few minutes of small talk, but she didn't have a direct opinion on him other than she liked him better than Misha Tripple. Next she moved onto Seneca Crane, a man in his late twenties, with an intricately shaped beard. He would have been classically handsome if it weren't for his choice of facial hair and the way he leered at her, eyes trailing her body, as they spoke. She wasn't a fan of his.

Rosemary met a few more Gamemakers before she was moved onto her and Rye's sponsors. She didn't meet all of their sponsors–there were too many to accommodate in such a short span of time–but she did meet the ones who donated the most. The elderly Murtaugh couple was pleasant enough for Capitolites, but the Tresley couple, young and aesthetically attractive, were horrendous. Just from a few words of conversation with them, it was clear that they wanted Rye to win. She wished that she could tell them that she felt the same way. Mr. Eassall was very sketchy and made her uncomfortable when he said he'd see her soon again, and Miss Kirnen was disappointed with Rye's loss, but was happy that she was so pretty. Overall, she didn't like them either but she was polite because they were a huge part of the reason that she was alive and going home to Peeta.

By the time Haymitch stole her away from Effie–just in time, as she was getting ready to introduce Rosemary to some of President Snow's officials–she was starving. It had been a long day, and with only beef broth and two rolls in her stomach, she was ready for this nine-course meal to begin. Until then, all Haymitch could offer her was an olive.

"Where'd you get this?" she popped the olive in her mouth and grimaced at the strong taste. "Why does it taste like rubbing alcohol smells?"

"I stole it from Seeder's dirty martini," he told her as they walked toward the right side of the ballroom. "And that would be the gin you're tasting. Seeder doesn't like vodka."

"Gross," Rosemary mumbled. "Who am I meeting now?"

"I'm gonna introduce you to the Victors, pipsqueak."

Rosemary stopped walking but was quickly overtaken by Haymitch grabbing her wrist and pulling her after him. "Wait, I have to meet the Victors?"

"Yes."

"What if they don't like me?"

"Then you tell them to fuck off," Haymitch shrugged. Up ahead, through a break in the crowd, she saw the table Haymitch was dragging her to, chairs full of previous Victors. "But they probably will like you, even if you just stand there in awkward silence."

Rosemary rolled her eyes and tugged her wrist from his grip. "Thanks, Haymitch."

"Well, it's either that or you talk too much."

Yet another reason why Rye should have won the Games. He would have been such a charismatic Victor, joining the likes of Finnick Odair and Gloss Malachai as the Capitol heart throbs. Rye had always been liked. Rosemary on the other hand? Well, there was a reason why Kline and Delly were her only friends who weren't related to her.

"There's only a fourth of them here tonight, anyway," Haymitch continued. "The ones who don't mentor typically stay in their district during the Games and the ones who had Tributes die early go home before the Victor festivities."

"There's at least ten people over there."

"It's best to get to know them now," he advised her, taking a swig of his beer. "Victors tend to stick together."

"Then why don't you have friends?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Haymitch rolled his eyes, his voice dry. "Now play nice."

They stopped at the Victors table. Most of the chairs were taken, a few from the other tables around them pulled up to fit more people. Rosemary recognized some of them, the winners of the Games she's either watched before, or learned about in class. Gloss and Cashmere Malachai, a set of gorgeous siblings from District 1, won the 63rd and 64th Games, respectively. Mags Flanagan, from District 4, was the first Victor to ever go on a Victory Tour and was the oldest Victor currently alive. Beetee Latier, from District 3, was one of Rosemary's favorite Victors, not only because he outsmarted everyone in his Games, but he was a highly sought-after inventor with a seriously high IQ.

Most of them looked bored before they spotted her and Haymitch, and she didn't blame them. She, too, didn't want to be here.

"Everyone, this is Rosemary." Haymitch introduced her unceremoniously. "Pipsqueak, this is..."

He introduced her to everyone at the table and she paid attention to those she didn't know as well as the others. There was Brutus and Enobaria from District 2, Wiress from Three, Woof and Cecelia from District 8, and Blight from District 7. She said hello to each one of them, even the ones she knew, and received warm welcomes back. Even Enobaria and Brutus, the most intimidating-looking ones, were nice to her, which was a relief.

Mags even stood up to greet her, gently cupping her cheeks with her hands, gnarled with age. She didn't say anything, but the welcoming gesture made her want to cry. Even without words, she knew that Mags understood her, and it was likely the rest of them did as well.

Haymitch left her with the Victors only a moment after introducing them, and Rosemary was ushered into the seat between Mags and Beetee.

"It's so nice to meet you, Mr. Latier," she said enthusiastically. "I really loved your work on the telecommunicators introduced in January. We don't have them in District 12, of course, but my teacher was able to get your patent and I found it fascinating. Do you currently have other works in progress?"

Beetee studied her for a moment, an emotion she didn't recognize flickering in his eyes. "Yes, I'm currently working on a new security measure for the Capitol."

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the schematics?"

"Not at all, though I suggest you contact me once you get home," Beetee told her. "I believe it would be a conversation our current company won't want to endure."

Rosemary's face warmed as she glanced at the Victors, all staring at her. "Sorry."

"You're smart, like Beetee and Wiress," Cashmere observed, folding her hands under her chin and resting on them. "You were the one who knew all the name meanings, right?"

"I am very interested in Onomatology, the meaning behind names," Rosemary's voice was quieter than when she spoke with Beetee. "Names are very important and I think knowing the meaning behind them can tell you about a person, even if they don't fit their names just right."

Gloss, who was very great in stature, much larger than on the television screen, leaned forward. "What does my name mean?"

"Shine or luster. I think it fits you."

"How so?"

"Well, you are one of the more popular Victors." Rosemary pointed out. Gloss smirked, satisfied, and leaned back in his chair.

"Hear that, Odair? I'm the most popular Victor," he nodded at Rosemary–or rather, the person behind Rosemary–and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I don't believe that's what she said, but I won't stop you from dreaming, Gloss," Finnick Odair's voice–which she had only heard on TV or when she had bumped into Annie Cresta before the Games–came from behind her.

Rosemary twisted slightly in her seat, enough so she could see that not only Finnick had come up behind her, but so had Annie Cresta. She didn't know how to act, honestly. The first time she met them, she had bumped into Annie and had angered Finnick. It wasn't the greatest first impression.

Finnick Odair had beautiful eyes. They were made of hues of blue and green that she could only wish to recreate with frosting on her cakes, and slightly dazed. Alcohol, she guessed, by the way he gripped a drink in the hand that wasn't on Annie Cresta's waist. He was wearing a royal blue suit that meshed nicely with his tan skin, the top buttons of his pristine white shirt unbuttoned so some of his chest was exposed and for a second she was entranced by the small bit of chest hair she could see peaking out of it. His face looked like it was sculpted by the finest artist, deep dimples decorating his cheeks as he grinned at Gloss.

To her chagrin, she found him very attractive.

How was it that she only started to find people attractive after her Reaping? There had to be some sort of explanation. Maybe it had to do with psychology or was it natural instinct? She'd have to figure it out when she was back home. Maybe she'd be able to buy some textbooks from the Capitol with her new Victor money...

"Rosemary Mellark," Finnick smirked as his eyes swept over her face and down her figure, lingering on her cleavage for only a split second. "I'm glad to see you haven't bumped into anyone tonight."

"I-I" what was she supposed to say to that? "T-Thank you?"

Next to him, Annie Cresta rolled her eyes. "Ignore him. It's nice to meet you, Rosemary. I'm Annie." She detached herself from Finnick and took Rosemary's good hand, helping her to her feet so she could wrap her arms around her. Rosemary stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact, but patted Annie's back anyway, even if it was awkward. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Rosemary's throat tightened and she had to wait a couple of seconds until she wasn't choked up in order to speak. "Thank you. It's nice to meet you."

Quickly, just as Annie was letting her go, her left hand was snatched up by Finnick. He stared at her as he pressed his lips to the back of her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, sweetheart."

She did not like the way her stomach fluttered at his touch or the way he smiled at her.

"Hi."

She heard snickering from behind her, where Gloss and Cashmere had been sitting, and flushed at the thought of them making fun of her. As Finnick started to smile, she took her hand away from him and smoothed down her dress, heartbeat roaring in her ears.

How embarrassing!

"We're not laughing at you, love, I promise," Finnick smiled at her as she sat down, eyes following her blush down her neck.

She was skeptical. What else would they be laughing at?

She searched for Haymitch, Effie, or Vina in the crowd, now feeling uncomfortable at the Victors table. Unfortunately, she didn't spot anyone from her team, not even Joss, and it looked like everyone was going to their seats anyhow, as waiters started to gather at the edge of the ballroom, shining silver cloches held firmly in their grip.

A warm hand touched her shoulder. Rosemary flinched and whipped around to face her attacker, vision blurred at the thought of the oncoming attack. All the Victors around her tensed up at the quick movement, but Rosemary didn't see them. All she saw was Mags.

The old woman looked at her with understanding, a small apologetic smile at her lips. She signed and it was only because Rosemary had studied a book on sign language that she knew what Mags was saying.

'Dinner's starting. We'd love for you to sit with us.'

"I'll stay," Rosemary gave into her easily. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, you didn't do anything wrong," Finnick said from behind her. She didn't look back at him, but he soon sat in one of the empty chairs, Annie next to him, across the table.

"Right, sorry."

Finnick raised an eyebrow at her and she had to consciously stop herself from apologizing again.

Effie came by at that moment and Rosemary was just glad she saw her before she touched her shoulders otherwise she might have turned on her like she had Mags. Effie only stopped by briefly, to tell her that she and the rest of her team, along Haymitch and a couple of Victors she hadn't yet met, would sit at the next table over. Rosemary assured her that she'd be fine and as the older woman walked away, she found herself grateful that there seemed to be no table-of-honor for her.

Throughout their nine course meal, Rosemary got to know each Victor a little more.

Mags had a stroke the year previous and couldn't speak anymore, so she used sign language. Not a lot of other people in Panem knew sign language, especially in the outlier districts, so Finnick had to translate for her so the other Victors knew what she was saying. Mags was kind and asked about her family and in turn, Rosemary asked about hers. Mags had never had children, but she did, at one point, have a husband. He sadly passed away twenty years prior. She spent a lot of time at the marketplace in Four, giving away the fish hooks she made and helping other stalls sell their goods.

Cashmere was twenty-four years old and beloved by the Capitol. From District 1, she volunteered for her Games at eighteen and won. She spoke a lot about her and Gloss' family; they had a younger sibling and one older, who was deceased, their parents, and a toddler niece that they loved very much. Cashmere spent a lot of time in the Capitol working on her talent, a jewelry line that sold out every holiday season, but enjoyed visiting home whenever she could. Gloss spent most of his time in the Capitol like his sister, acting in the Capitol's most popular soap opera. Apparently, he was the best character on the show, according to a blushing Cecelia.

Annie was nineteen and it was clear that she and Finnick spent a lot of time together. Rosemary could see it in the way she looked at him constantly for reassurance when she hesitated in talking about herself. Sometimes she trailed off in the middle of a sentence, but most of the time she spoke, she seemed alert and aware. It was clear that she wasn't always the "Mad Victor" and that she had good days. Annie was sassy and strong-willed despite the label the Capitol had given her, and Rosemary found that she reminded her a lot of Delly.

Finnick had been the youngest Victor ever, winning his Games when he was fourteen. Five years later saw him as the Capitol's favorite, a playboy who was always seen with a lover under his arm. He enjoyed poetry and spent most of his time away from the Capitol at the ocean, swimming and fishing. Rosemary didn't get much else out of him, as he joked a lot and tried to talk about anything else but himself. It was a classic deflection that made her wonder what all there was to Finnick Odair that he didn't want to share.

The other Victors didn't offer much, but spoke here and there. Mostly, Rosemary spent her time between bites speaking with Beetee and Wiress. She thought that District 3 was the most fascinating district because of their intellectual property. The technology that was created in their district and then sent to the Capitol was amazing and she found herself wishing that she was more academically challenged back home. Beetee didn't have a spouse or children, but Wiress was his best friend and they did many of their projects together. Wiress was a little spacey but intelligent, especially as she told Rosemary about her project on the technology that supported DNA modification that they used in the Capitol.

Dessert was the only course not served at the table and instead put out on a long buffet table in the middle of the room. There were different cakes, sorbets, ice creams, puddings, breads, and cookies. It was a baker's dream and honestly, Rosemary wanted to try all of it. Cashmere, who went with her to pick up a dessert, advised against it.

"You don't want to eat too much after the Games," she said sagely as she picked up a slice of lemon chiffon cake.

"Nine courses is a lot," Rosemary agreed and took a slice of fudgy chocolate cake. Her eyes were hungrier than she was and if she were to stay comfortably full, she knew she probably shouldn't eat the cake. It looked so good though. "Maybe Haymitch will split it with me?"

"Maybe," Cashmere hummed. They started away from the buffet to find Haymitch at the bar. "I'm very sorry for your loss, by the way. The loss of a sibling is..." she hesitated and smiled sadly. "Well, it's not fun."

Rosemary gave her a sympathetic look. "Your older sibling?"

"Her name was Sapphire. She volunteered in the 60th Games and made it to the top five before she died."

"I'm sorry."

"For a long time afterward, I convinced myself that when I volunteered, I'd avenge her and win," Cashmere shook her head. "Winning the Games didn't fill the hole she left in our lives."

"Does it get better?" Rosemary whispered.

"Yes, but not because your grief lessens. It gets better because you learn to live your life around that loss." She inhaled and continued, "As for the trauma that comes with the Games, when you're back at home, that's the hard part. Once all the celebrations are over and you don't have anything to do or anyone to smile for, all you have is the memories of the time in the arena."

Long after Cashmere went back to the Victors table and Rosemary sat at the bar with Haymitch and shared her slice of cake, she thought about what Cashmere told her. At the moment, it seemed impossible that she could move on and learn to live without Rye. It seemed...unfathomable. How was she supposed to do this? How would she cope?

She felt like she was at the bottom of a mountain and when she looked up, all she saw was the rocks she had to climb. She'd never be back to normal again, but she hoped that one day everything wouldn't hurt as much. That was what was at the top of the mountain.

Peace. For her, for Peeta. For all of her loved ones. That was all she wanted.

-

"Miss Mellark?"

At the mention of her name, she turned away from the rest of the cake Haymitch left her to see a tall black man dressed very officially in a Head Peacekeeper's uniform.

Her fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Yes?"

"I'm Captain Meko Atticus, President Snow's Head of Security." he bowed his head for a moment as he introduced himself. "President Snow has requested your presence for a moment."

Next to her, Haymitch stirred. "Did he say what he wanted to talk to her about?"

"He did not," Captain Atticus' voice was firm. "Miss Mellark, if you'll follow me?"

Rosemary shot Haymitch a panicked look, but there was nothing either of them could do. She slid off her stool and followed Captain Atticus through the crowd, out of the ballroom and through a hallway covered in red, velvet fabric, from the carpet to the walls and all the furniture. It was rather gaudy and not a style she liked.

Out of nervousness, she found herself blurting, "Meko means fearless."

Captain Atticus glanced at her, an eyebrow raised. "Does it?"

"Yes."

Captain Atticus hummed, not impressed, and led her to the last door in the hallway. "President Snow is inside."

"Thank you."

He opened the door for her and she cautiously stepped in, her hand shaking from nerves. She clenched her fingers into a fist to try to control the tremors, but it did little to help. She was nervous. Haymitch had told her not to get on President Snow's bad side and she had screwed that up royally during her interview.

What was he going to do to her?

President Snow sat at the ornate desk, two red, plush chairs on the opposite side of him. He was eating cookies and grinned widely when he saw her, gesturing for her to come closer. "Please, sit, Rosemary."

Rosemary gave him a small, polite smile and cautiously sat in one of the chairs, brown eyes staring right at the President, not daring to look away in fear that he'd take the chance and attack her like a rabid dog.

He wasted no time for pleasantries. "It seems, Miss Mellark, that we have a problem."

"We do?"

"Yes. Several of them. Can you guess what they are?"

Rosemary inhaled deeply. "My interview."

"Indeed. Anything else?"

"I-I can't think of anything else, sir."

"It seems your presence in the Games this year has caused a stir," President Snow told her, his crystal blue eyes boring holes into her. "I admit, the odds were not in your favor, being Reaped the same year as your brother...but I had hoped that you two would cooperate."

Rosemary's eyebrows furrowed. In what way did they not cooperate?

President Snow, it seemed, could read her mind.

"You and your brother–Rye, in particular–shared a few opinions during the Games that I, and the Capitol, very much frown upon. Rhetoric against the Capitol, against the Hunger Games. Me."

"President Snow, it was not our intent–"

"Do not lie to me," President Snow cut her off firmly. "You don't strike me as a person who lies."

"Only when the situation calls for it."

He grinned at her honesty. "I am a man who can appreciate that. Now, it was clear that you believe in the opinions that you and your brother share on-camera. If it was in the privacy of your own home, such a thing would be different, but the problem, of course, is that these conversations were broadcast around the country."

"Surely the whisperings of two teenagers doesn't affect anything," Rosemary stated, raising an eyebrow at him. "Especially when they're from District 12."

President Snow's eyes flashed and he sat up straighter, voice rougher than before. "You would be surprised, Miss Mellark. Were you aware that there were rebellions during your Games?"

She hadn't known that. How was she supposed to know? She'd been unconscious for three days following Rye's death and the day that she was awake, no one had time to tell her anything except for her agenda.

He took her silence as an answer. "Granted, they were small, only consisting of four or five people. But they were rebellions, nonetheless. In District 12, when Mr. Mellark was killed and today, in District 11, after your interview. You see, the problem is that when people go against the Capitol and it's broadcasted amongst the country, it sparks hope."

Rosemary silently gulped, clenched her eyes shut as she thought about what he said. Revolts in District 11 and 12 because of what she said and did in the Games? How could such a small action cause people to rebel against the Capitol, and to risk their lives to do so?

Who was amongst those who rebelled in District 12? She wondered. Was it anyone I know?

They were more than likely dead now, prosecuted for their actions.

"I didn't mean to cause any of this," she said softly, opening her eyes.

"I actually believe that," President Snow nodded. "But it doesn't matter now. From this point forward, I need you to do as I tell you. You will not speak a word against the Capitol, you will not encourage rebellion in the Districts, you will not act as a child, but as a Victor. Am I clear, Miss Mellark?"

"Yes," Rosemary stated. "Though could you give me some clarification about acting like a Victor?"

"You have duties as a Victor of the Hunger Games. The first is to procure a talent, one that can entertain those in the Capitol." He meant something that she would be good at and could sell someone–for Cashmere, it was jewelry, for Gloss, it was acting. "Your talent will need to be perfect by the time your Victory Tour ends in the Capitol."

Rosemary nodded silently. That wouldn't be too hard to come up with. Her hand would need to heal, but maybe she could bake or try painting. Surely it wasn't that different than frosting cakes.

"Additionally, there will be more expected of you. There are many people in the Capitol who find you appealing, Miss Mellark. Desirable." President Snow moved on swiftly before she could say anything, picking up a sleek remote and holding it in his palm. "At the end of your Victory Tour, you will begin to please these people. You'll sell your body and your time, and you will make them happy."

Rosemary choked in shock, first at the words that came out of his mouth, and then at the small hologram that beamed up when he pressed a button on the small remote. It was footage of Kline, from earlier that day, as she took out the garbage from their shop. She didn't even notice whatever was taking the video, and she entered the store again, blissfully unaware of anything going on around her.

"You can say no, Miss Mellark," President Snow leveled her with a hard look. "But if you do, this feed will go live and all I have to do is press a button to kill Kline Cartwright."

Terror struck Rosemary and her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. As President Snow switched the feed, only the light on the back porch of the Cartwright's shop could be seen. If she said no, Kline would be dead.

"What do you say, Miss Mellark?"

Ultimately, the choice was easy. She'd do anything for Kline. She would figure out the rest later.

"I'll do it."

President Snow grinned widely, a look of satisfaction upon his face. "That is what I like to hear."