#despite being the healer she's the one that often dies first. white girl please stop dying

[fishareglorious]

im trying to do the green lake stages in arduous difficulty and oh my god i have so many pollution debuff stacks.

the enemy does one turn. i get two hundred million quantillion pollution stacks. sonetto breathes for half a second and suddenly she's at dangerously low health. druvis does one attack and then she gets -255 -134 -165 damage to her. dikke doesn't generate enough healing cards.

[dragoncat223]

Chapter Three: Blossom

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Blossom stood in the war room, at the head of the table, looking at those that had gathered for the meeting. There were her siblings, Snow and Dahlia, sitting to her right and left. They Dahlia was head of strategy, and Snow was her right hand. Jack Powers sat next Snow- head of weaponry. The man was eighteen, and had a soft spot for animals. The two were currently cooing over photos Snow had stored on his personal communicator. Then there was Cameran McClain next to Dahlia. They were the head of organizing training. The sixteen year had been a good friend to Dahlia. The two of them were giggling over something. And finally the twins, Ben and Bella Allen. They were both nineteen and head of animal housing.

“Alright, lets begin. The plans for the base were recovered last night, thanks to Dahlia,” Blossom began, nodding to her sister, who straightened up a little bit, “We also received information about Princess Diane.”

The atmosphere in the room dropped from friendly to tense. Which is when the last of their group arrived. Rae Juniper, head of their tech lab. He was seventeen, and new. He’d only been in that position to for about two cycles now. “S-sorry I’m late!” He said, taking a seat next to Ben.

“That’s fine, just don’t let it happen again,” Blossom responded. “Now we know that the princess has a device that suppresses the ley lines that give us our power for a one hundred mile radius. And she’s coming to the base to test it. At this time, we don’t know if it works. She will be arriving in two week’s time, which means there will be upped security for her. Though I’ve heard that they recently sent a few troops back to the capitol, which means that they be doubting we are here at all.”

“General Blossom, if I may,” Snow began.

“You have the floor.”

“We’ll want to keep the princess from finishing the device, yes? And once she arrives, we can have the scouts figure out what room she’s staying in, where the device is, and take over the base from the inside.”

Dahlia nodded. “We’ll have to send in shadow mages first, it’ll have to be stealthy, to disable alarms and stuff, then let everyone in,” she put in.

“We’ll have to hammer out the details. If we go with this plan, I won’t be able to be there,” Blossom thoughtfully. “I’d have to leave it to Snow.”

The nineteen year old’s stomach began to tie itself in knots at the thought. She knew her brother could take care of himself, but she still didn’t like it. Snow nodded. “I can start training with my team immediately.”

“Good. Cameran, he has priority for the time being. If he requests time, give it to him.” They nodded and wrote something down in their notebook. “Dahlia I want you and Snow to work out the details of the plan, then report back to me. Rae, anything to report?”

“Not much. We are still working on something, but we haven’t made much progress,” the boy responded.

“Keep working then. If you make any significant progress I want to be the first to know. Ben, Bella, how are things going with the dragon training?”

“It’s slow, but we’ve managed to pair about seven more,” Bella responded. “In all we have twenty five dragons, fifteen pairs, and fourteen flyers.”

The girl glanced at Snow, who was studying the table. Her brother cleared his throat and continued. “The snakes are in peak condition, their riders will be able to hold their own if they are needed.”

“Good. And the Jackalopes?”

Blossom swore she heard Bella mutter ‘little shits’. “Thriving, and have been tunneling everywhere.”

The General smiled at that. There wasn’t a really good reason to keep them around, but they made good pets and no one was complaining too much.

“Jack- how are we on weapons?”

“We have plenty, but we are running low on ports.”

“Get your people on that. There’s no telling what might happen when we try to take the base.”

Jack nodded and made a note in how own notebook. “I think that about covers it. Thank you for coming, I’ll see you all in two days.”

And with that the group stood and left, the only two that lingered were Snow and Dahlia. “Snow I think it’s time you started training with Holly,” Dahlia stated.

“Why?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

“It’s been six cycles. If Pandora was coming back, he would have by now.”

“You don’t know that.”

“She has a point, Snow,” Blossom interjected.

“Holly was his, not mine, I’m just taking care of her,” Snow insisted. “He’ll come back.”

“How do you know?” Dahlia’s voice hard now. “It’s been six cycles and we haven’t heard anything. Not from The Refuge, not from Aunt Lealia, and certainly not from Pandora, so please enlighten me, how you know he’s not dead.”

“I just do!” There were tears in Snow’s eyes now.

“Look I miss him too, but it’s time you accept the possibility that he could be dead. You miss him, I get it, but you’re not the only one that lost someone that day. He wasn’t just your boyfriend, he was my friend too!” Dahlia’s voice cracked. “I want him to come back just as much as you do, but he’s gone and there’s nothing anyone can do about it!”

Tears were streaming down her face now. Snow’s face was dry, but Blossom suspected it wouldn’t stay that way for long. “And how do you know he’s not dead?” he growled. And with that he stormed out of the room.

Dahlia took in a shakey breath, put both hands down on the table and sobbed. Blossom went and hugged her. The girl didn’t even acknowledge it, just kept crying. Blossom stroked her sister’s hair. She knew it was best to let this run its course, as this was not the first time it’s happened- to either of her siblings.

Pandora had been one of their best dragon flyers. He had been such a ball of sunshine, you couldn’t help but love him. Snow in particular. They had started dating about two years ago, after Dahlia had locked them in Snow’s room. Dahlia and Pandora had been great friends, despite him being two years older than her.

Blossom blamed herself for his capture, and possible death. They were doing a raid on one of the smaller bases, and she had said not to bring the dragons. Snow had ran up to her in the middle of battle, begging her for help. But the building was crumbling and she had to get them out of there. If Pandora has his dragon there, he might still be around.

It took ten minutes for Dahlia to calm down enough to talk. “I don’t want him to be dead,” she half whispered.

“I know,” Blossom reassured. “Snow knows too, he just misses him. Just give him some time.”

Dahlia sniffed and leaned into her sister. “You don’t actually think he’s dead, do you?”

“No.”

They stood like that for a few minutes more. “I should go apologize,” Dahlia stated.

“Alright. Don’t forget, it’s your night to cook,” Blossom reminded. Dahlia half smiled and nodded, then disappeared out the door.

The woman left in the room let out a breath and collapsed into a chair. She rubbed her face and let out a sigh. There was something exhausting about siblings fighting.

After a moment she stood and went to her own room. It was located on the bottom floor, next to her parent’s old room. She had a few small plants on the window sills, and a bookshelf, though not as full as her siblings’. The main decoration was the white and gold blanket that was hung on the far wall. While Dahlia’s blanket was always cold and Snow’s was always warm, Blossom’s own held no such sway with temperature. She suspected her own was enchanted with life extending charms.

She had received it from her mother when she discovered her core ability: healing. Her mother may have been afraid for her; healers were not known for their long life spans.

On the bed, there lay a leather jacket, but it wasn’t Blossom’s. Not really anyway. The general collapsed face first onto the bed. After two seconds of nothing, she maneuvered herself onto her back, and draped the over her torso. I’m trying mom, she thought.

Who she was trying to think at, she wasn’t sure. Blossom’s parents were with the goddess Dela now. But doing this at the end of a long day was, somehow, a little therapeutic.

The woman rubbed the soft leather between thumb and forefinger. She had spent the week after her parents died curled up on her bed, this jacket around her shoulders, completely numb to the world. Snow had brought her food and taken care of Dahlia. Blossom didn’t think she would ever stop feeling guilty about that. She should have tried to stay strong for her siblings. Instead she had hidden away and let them down.

Finally she had come to her senses and taken her mother’s old position; she had become leader of their branch of The Shadow Club. No one was quite sure why the rebellion was called that, it had just happened. Perhaps a joke that simply stuck.

A door opened and closed upstairs. So, they had made up. Good. Snow and Dahlia's fights could get bloody if it got out of hand. Blossom’s siblings were stubborn, something of a fatal flaw when you had to compromise so often. The house would be quiet for a few hours now.

She reached up, towards the ceiling, examining the back of her hand. With a flash, a glowing spear, made of pure light, appeared in her hand. Snow had his swords and ice; Dahia had her knives and fire, but this was Blossom’s weapon of choice. Like her brother with ice, she could shape light into whatever she wanted.

Blossom let herself lay there a moment longer, then sat up, the spear disappearing into dark nothingness. She wanted to go over the plans for the base again, make sure she knew every nook and cranny in that building. Not that it would do her much good; she’d be in the infirmary, making sure no one died.

Sometimes it frustrated her to no end that she didn’t have abilities that were more helpful. And yes, the healers were important, but that didn’t mean they went out and fought much.

Blossom stepped out of her room, plans in hand and back to the war room.

[ellanainthetardis]

I hope you will like this chapter! Please let me know your thoughts!

[FF] or [AO3]

Chapter 6 : Count To Five

The storm lasted three days.

It left the District muddy and Haymitch with a cough that he had been treating with medicinal moonshine – despite Aster’s insistence that he should use her herbal remedies instead. Truth be told, he was glad for the excuse, it allowed him to avoid the kids without too much difficulties. Being stuck in his house though… He was getting antsy.

He had burned the white rose but it didn’t matter, its fragrance lingered. It was most likely in his head, he knew that, but it made little difference. He could still smell it. Like a faint poison in the air, an omen of what was to come.

It wasn’t just the flower or what it stood for, it was the fact that people had broken into his house, had violated the only refuge he had left. He didn’t feel safe anymore – although he supposed that was very much the point. His sleep schedule that had already been erratic was now almost inexistent. He fell asleep sometimes – or passed out rather – but never for long. Either the familiar creaking and popping of the house would startle him awake or he would have a nightmare. He clutched the handle of his knife so often and so tightly that his fingers were regularly cramping.

Something had to give.

Which was why he wasn’t really surprised when he heard the racket in the street one morning. Startled, yes. Wary, yes. But surprised, no.

He head the neigh of a horse as well as the brutal noise of wheels hitting the various potholes that lined the Village’s streets. He was halfway to the front door when someone hammered on it in a panic.

He kept his knife out of sight but ready to be used.

“Tom.” he frowned when he recognized the middle-aged man.

Everyone in the District knew Tom. He was older than Haymitch by a good ten years and he had been in charge of deliveries for as long as anyone could remember. Horses and carts were rare in Twelve, it was enough to assure his notoriety. Their paths had crossed a few times at the Hob but Haymitch couldn’t remember ever having a real conversation with him.

“Katniss and Gale are in trouble.” the old man said, obviously worried. “New Peacekeepers arrived this morning. It’s… It’s like the old days. Before Cray.”

Haymitch’s heart missed a beat.

Before Cray…

He didn’t hesitate.

He rushed to the cart, not bothering to ask the man if he could give him a ride. Tom was already climbing back up and encouraged the horse to go as fast as he could. It still wasn’t fast enough for Haymitch who jumped out as soon as they got closer to town.

It wasn’t difficult to find the kids.

He only had to follow the shouts. He pushed people aside, shouldering his way through the thick crowd that was massing on the square.

He faltered for a second when he caught sight of what was happening.

Gale Hawthorne was tied to the whipping post that had rarely been used since Cray had become Head Peacekeeper, his back a bloody mess. Darius, one of the youngest Peacekeepers, was lying on the ground not too far – knocked out or dead, Haymitch wasn’t sure.

The sight that really made his heart stop right in his chest was the rest though.

The stranger in the white uniform of a Head Peacekeeper was pointing a gun straight at Katniss, the whip clutched in his other hand.

And the stupid girl remained there, in front of her friend, blood dripping from a gash on her cheek, chin high, looking every bit the symbol of a rebellion that would never happen.

“Last warning.” the man growled. “Step aside.”

Haymitch jumped in-between them, almost relieved when the barrel of the gun turned to him. He lifted both hands in a defensive gesture, to show he wasn’t a threat.

“Get out of my way.” the Peacekeeper ordered.

“You don’t want to shoot her.” he said quickly. “Do you know who I am? Do you know who she is? You don’t want to shoot her.”

The man didn’t look impressed. “You’re both interfering. Step aside now.”

“I’m Haymitch. She’s Katniss Everdeen.” he insisted. “You…” Peeta appeared out of nowhere and put himself in the middle, giving Haymitch another small heart attack. He grabbed the kid by the lapel of his shirt and pushed him behind him, stretching his arms wide to make himself the bigger target. “Look…”

“Victors aren’t above the law.” the Peacekeeper spat. “The law’s been ignored long enough in this District. It changes today.” The man looked around at the crowd that had gathered and that was being kept in check by a few Peacekeepers whose faces Haymitch didn’t recognize, making eye contact with the strongest looking men standing there – identifying the potential threats. “Victors aren’t above the law. Nobody is above the law. Anyone caught poaching will be punished. Anyone caught partaking in black market will be punished. Anyone violating curfew will be punished. Anyone interfering with justice will be punished.” The sneer was directed toward Haymitch. “Discipline in Twelve has been lacking, I’m here to see to that. I’ve been handpicked for this job. I have specific orders, so this is the only warning you get, Abernathy. Step aside.”

His breaths came out in fast puffs. He wanted to cough but it was stuck in his throat.

Specific orders. Victors not being above the law.

He had expected retributions, he hadn’t thought it would be taking this particular shape.

He needed to get the kids out of there. But Peeta wouldn’t go without Katniss and Katniss wouldn’t go without Hazelle’s son.

“What did the boy do?” he asked, trying to sound calm and to maintain eye contact. “Surely, he’s got enough? First offence and all that…”

“I’m done with the boy. Ten lashes for poaching, that’s the rate. Next time, it’ll be thirty. The time after that, the firing squad.” the new Head Peacekeeper dismissed before pointing his whip at something above Haymitch’s shoulder. “Now, she interfered.”

“He’s her cousin and she’s stupid.” he said quickly.

“She still interfered.” the man shrugged, putting his gun away and transferring the whip from his left to his right hand. “The law’s the law. No exception.”

“He can’t be serious.” Peeta scoffed behind him.

Haymitch was afraid the man was being very, very serious on the contrary. Nothing would send a stronger message than having Katniss Everdeen whipped on the main square.

A hushed murmur of protestation floated around the crowd but the new Peacekeepers’ guns were effective enough. Nobody actually moved. And even if they were to move… It would have given the Capitol an excuse to open fire. People would have died for nothing and he would have been responsible for the bloodshed because he was the reason they were in this mess in the first place.

The white rose on its bed of ashes.

The smell he couldn’t shake.

The law was the law.

He licked his lips and dropped his arms back to his side. “She’s not eighteen.”

“And if her parents want to take responsibility for her that’s fine.” the Peacekeeper shrugged. “But they better step forward now.”

He didn’t know where Aster was and he wasn’t sure she would have done it anyway. Nor was it the clever choice anyway. They were short of healers in Twelve. And it was becoming clear they would need her in the near future.  

“I’m legally responsible for her.” he objected.

“Haymitch, what are you doing?” Katniss scowled behind him but bless Peeta’s reflexes. The boy grabbed her and held her back before she could put herself in the middle again.

“You’re saying you’re her father?” the Head Peacekeeper snorted. “I’m pretty sure that would have made the news.” 

“I’m saying I’m her mentor.” he snapped, raising his voice. “I’m saying that gives me guardianship over her when her mother’s not around. I’m saying she’s sixteen and I’m responsible for her so you’re touching her over my dead body.”

He just hoped that wouldn’t be literal.

The man studied him for a second and then nodded his assent.

Haymitch breathed a sigh of relief. His argument was fishy at best and he was pretty sure the law wasn’t that clear about what to do with a mentor who tried to claim legal responsibility for another victor, underage or not. The Head Peacekeeper could have insisted. He turned to the kids and tried to look less nervous than he felt.

“Get the boy off that post and to Katniss’ mother.” he told Peeta. “And get her out of here.”

“I don’t understand.” the girl frowned. “What are you doing? What’s…”

“Get away and stay away.” he cut her off, staring straight at Peeta.

Katniss opened her mouth but Peeta dragged her to Gale before she could say anything more. They made a quick job of untying the boy, a couple of men stepped out of the crowd to help the kids carry him.

“Restrain him.” the Head Peacekeeper demanded. He didn’t raise his voice but it seemed to echo around the square.

The kids weren’t far enough and Katniss whirled back, understanding dawning on her face.

“No!” she shouted. “You can’t! Let me go! Let me go!”

Haymitch didn’t let his gaze stray in her direction. He saw, in the corners of his eyes, that Peeta had grabbed her around the waist and was bodily removing her from the scene.

He shrugged off the hand of the new Peacekeeper woman who tried to hold him with a disdainful snarl. “You mind? I like this shirt.”

He took his time unbuttoning it, trying to prepare himself for what would follow, aware that this cocky casual display of confidence could have been seen as a sign of insolence. He had never thought he would be in that position again. Being tied to a whipping post. He had though he had left that behind when they had put a crown on his head. One of the few perks of being a victor, really.

If an offender was a minor, one of their parents or legal guardians could request to take the punishment in their stead. It wasn’t a mercy thing. It was agreed that watching one of your parents getting whipped to an inch of their lives for something you did was more effective than being beaten raw yourself.

Nobody had been there to step in for him when, at the age of fifteen, he had been caught sneaking out of the woods with a bag full of rabbits. His mother had been working and had been alerted too late – not that he would have let her do it anyway – and his father… His father had been long gone by then, like the worthless drunk he had been.

There were speckles of blood everywhere around the post. He discarded the shirt to the side and tried not to flinch when the woman locked the restraints around his wrists. She didn’t look quite at ease with what was going on but she also made no offer to help him.

Darius still had to stand up so he honestly kind of understood.

He wondered where Cray was. If he had been demoted or if it was worse than that.

Then, the whip lashed out and he stopped wondering.

He clenched his jaw but couldn’t help a groan.

Fuck, but that hurt more than he remembered.  

He tried to draw strength from the crowd because there was a tension there, a quiet defiance… But in the end, compared to the pain of leather tearing his skin open, quiet defiance meant very little.

“Everdeen’s punishment would have been five lashes.” the Head Peacekeeper announced. “That was one.”

“No kidding.” He spat to the side, planting his feet wider on the ground. He could feel the blood and the sweat running down his back. “Let’s see if you can count to five now.”

It was stupid to provoke him but he had his pride, that was his flaw, and he refused to be cowed while being beaten like a dog. He put all his weight on his legs and tensed his muscles, eyes closed.

That lash was harder and the grunt he tried to swallow back left his throat raw. His lack of reaction seemed to annoy the Head Peacekeeper. This was supposed to be an example for the District, he figured, and it wasn’t exactly working out. He bowed until his forehead was against the chipped wood of the post and waited for the rest of it. Three left. He could take three. He had taken ten when he had been a teenager and he had survived. He could take three.

His left knee buckled with the next hit but he forced himself to remain still. He would not fidget. He would not fall. He wouldn’t hang there like a powerless punching ball.

His ego wouldn’t allow it.

And a part of him, a part he didn’t indulge in often, kept pushing for him to remind them who he was. He was Haymitch Abernathy. He was the Second Quarter Quell’s victor. And fuck if that didn’t mean something.

But he was also the victor who had tried to launch a rebellion and he had a feeling nobody would let him forget that anytime soon.

The three lashes on his back were more or less parallel. He knew what would come next and he breathed slowly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slow and deep, nicely regular.

The fourth lash crisscrossed over the other three and it was less a groan than a whimper that escaped his lips. His sight was starting to blur and he shut his eyes tight, knowing the last would be the worst. The last was always the worst.

The tip of the lash caught him above the shoulder on its way down and his left knee gave in. It hit the ground in a cloud of dust and, for a moment, he remained there, half defeated, arms stretched tight above his head, certain there would be more lashes.

“Punishment has been served. Release the prisoner.” the Head Peacekeeper declared.

Fair. Haymitch mused. Twisted but fair.

“Clear the square!” the man ordered next. “If I see any kind of illegal reunion I will arrest you all.”

His wrists were freed of the shackles and his arms heavily fell back to his sides, opening the deep gashes on his back. He took a second to breathe, shrugging off the hands that tried to help him up, clenching his jaw at the blinding pain that it triggered. He snatched his shirt from the dirt before pushing on his good knee to stand up.

He swayed a little on his feet and all he wanted to do was collapse face first and remain there. Die there, maybe, because at least it would finally be over. He stared straight at the Head Peacekeeper instead.

“I’m keeping an eye on you and on that girl of yours.” the man warned. “One toe out of line and you will regret it. Understood?”

“Crystal clear.” he sneered.

“Good.” the newcomer said. “’Cause I don’t care who you are or what you won. You’ll obey the law like everyone else.”

“Head Peacekeeper Thread.” another new Peacekeeper arrived in a hurry. “We have a lead on the black market.”

“Well done.” Thread praised, before pointing out at a still passed-out Darius. “Get that disgrace away.”  

He left without another glance for Haymitch.

“Haymitch.” Sae said, suddenly at his side. Her old cold hands wrapped tight around his arms, careful not to touch the wounds on his back. “Let’s get you home.”

“He’s gonna raid the Hob.” he said flatly.

“We heard.” she said, her eyes turning in the direction of the Seam. He realized there were quite a few people around him now, hands outstretched to prevent an eventual fall. “It’s alright, son. Someone’s gonna warn them. Let’s worry about you, now.”

“Disperse!” a Peacekeeper shouted from the side of the square. “Disperse or I shoot on sight!”

A few people ran away as fast as their legs could carry them. Sae and a few men in miners outfits remained.

“Gary and Liam are gonna carry you to Aster Everdeen.” the old woman declared.

He stepped away when the man tried to grab him. He felt dizzy and his sight kept flashing white but he shook his head. “I can walk.”

“Haymitch.” Sae rebuked.

“I can walk.” he snapped.

He was in shock. He was in shock and high on adrenaline and that was lucky because as bad as the pain was, he was sure it would get worse. Much much worse.

He put one foot in front of the other, clutching his shirt in his right hand, and onward he went. It was the trick, really, one foot in front of the other. He was aware people were watching his pitiful walk of shame. Bare-chested, mangled back, leaving a trail of blood behind him… He faltered a few times, tripped… Some people stepped forward to help him but others held them back. More watched from behind the safety of their dirty windows, safe from retributions.

The message Thread had sent had been clear.

Twelve’s victors weren’t in favor.

And it wouldn’t do to be associated with them.

It was the right move. Haymitch would have told them if he had been in a state to do so.

Instead he walked on like a mindless zombie, his only goal reaching his house before his body gave in to the shaking and the pain.

One foot in front of the other.

He was torn between relief and irritation when he saw Peeta making his way toward him as he neared the slope that went up to the Village.

“Shit.” the boy cursed. “I was coming back for you. You should have waited. You should have…”His knees gave in and, truth be told, if the boy hadn’t caught him, he would have hit the ground face first. Unfortunately, Peeta grabbed him where he could and it was around his back. His sight flashed white and he let out a pained whine. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He had never heard the boy curse as much. Effie would have been horrified.

“Told you to stay away.” he mumbled. He didn’t want the boy or the girl to see him like that.

“Yeah, that’s happening.” Peeta scoffed. “Let’s get you to Mrs Everdeen.”

“I’m fine.” he muttered. “Wanna go home.”

The boy looked sorry when he shook his head. “You need stitches.”

“Can do that at home.” he argued. “Wanna go home.”

“Gale isn’t doing well.” Peeta told him, hauling him up, making an effort not to worsen his injuries. “Mrs Everdeen can’t leave. You have to go to her.”

“She can do it later.” he insisted. “I need a glass.”

And to throw up. Preferably not in that order.

His guts were churning.

He managed to reach the Village’s gates but he barely had time to turn his head to the side before emptying the content of his stomach on the side of the fountain and on his shoes. The spasms made his wounds hurt worse and, in turn, it made him want to throw up again. It was a vicious circle. He was trembling now, his muscles exhausted from the ordeal. He was cold. It was no weather to walk around shirtless, all the more so when you were sweaty and already had a cough.

“I’ve got you, Haymitch.” Peeta said gently. “I’ve got you.”

He didn’t protest when the boy supported him to Katniss’ house – half carried him, really. He didn’t have it in him.

It was chaos inside the kitchen. Gale was lying face down on the table, moaning and thrashing against the hands that were trying to restrain him. Prim was trying to make the boy drink something. Katniss was standing around helplessly, a bowl of fresh snow in her hands, white as a sheet. Hazelle was silently crying as she tried to keep her son still. And Aster, who had been inspecting the boy’s wounds, looked up when they came in.

Suddenly she was right in front of him, her hands gripping his upper arms hard.

“Thank you.” she said, so raw. He nodded because there was nothing else to do.

“He needs help.” Peeta sensibly cut in.

Aster turned him around and inspected his back. Gentle fingers probed at the wounds and he couldn’t help a cry of pain. It seemed to shock everyone in the room.

“Gale’s more badly injured.” the healer declared, looking at Peeta. “Help him to the living-room. Put some snow on those gashes, it’ll help with the pain. Katniss, go get him some liquor.”

“Bless you.” he breathed out at the mention of alcohol.

Everything else was a blur. He let Peeta help him to the couch and, once he was lying there with his face down, he decided he would never move again. The snow made everything worse before it made it slightly better but it was the liquor that was the real savior there. He drank as much as he could. He drank until he almost passed out.

He was glad for it when Aster started stitching up his back. He didn’t need her quiet comment that it would scar.

One more, one left…

[evangelineartemiasamos]

Red Queen Fan Fiction Black Storm Extra: Harvest Moon part II

First part

info dump on original characters you will need this I guess

Seriously, I thought very long about if I should post this. People might feel bad about reading such a story. But I think I should offer this story to those who are interested. Please notice that I don't intend to offer perfect solutions or to shame people. This is the story of one fictional character and her way to cope.

Warning! Mentioning of sexual violence. Warning! Proceed with caution

 Set in December during King's Cage, apart from the flashbacks

Cassandra POV

 My family believes in ghosts. There's our one legendary ancestress, Lisa Corvin, the Siren and the Sacrifice, the bride and the murderer and the murdered one. Our disembodied guardian. Many daughters have been named for her, in more or less creative ways. She's still around us, the more superstitious relatives claim, but all us of revere her, the young girl who killed her husband with only one word. I cherish her too, how could I not, as I am a relentless murderer myself. Lisa Corvin is the goddess of death who has walked this path before me.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The invasion of the Lakelands went well for three days. It was a small-scale attack, to be honest, and probably the reason of the eventual failure. Our team of twenty soldiers, all Reds except a skinhealer, my brother Roman and me, walked for the first two days, stormed a Red village at night and chased off the local Reds. We couldn't bring ourselves to kill them at that point, which wasn't the smartest idea in hindsight.

Because the Lakelanders fought back. Our position wasn't secure and as we patrolled our "conquered" lands, I, prowling alone, was the first to notice the Silver hunters of the enemy.

Yet there wasn't much for me to notice before they shot me.

There have been four of them, and it were four bullets that crossed my abdomen. I didn't know if each of them had hit me, but as I fell down, I used those bullets to kill them instead.

They were my first victims and still, I laid down to die, bleeding and helpless unless someone came for me. So I helped myself.

That might have been the most important moment of my life, when I faced death and fought her with all I had. I summoned powers I didn't know I possessed, monitoring my fading body functions to stop the bleedings, to remain breathing, to keep my heart beating. Maybe my powers could've awakened later on as well, maybe they could've been triggered by another, less dangerous event. It didn't matter because this wasn't only about the new level of my powers afterwards. It was about fear. Until my brother found me and brought me to the inexperienced skinhealer, I'd learned what it was to die. But I had persisted, my mind had surpassed my body. I'd defeated death and I felt like I was able to defeat everything afterwards.

 As better healers took care of my wounds after out retreat, they noticed the lack of an uterus in my body, rendering me unsuitable for marriage to most nobles. I was too young to be disappointed but I knew what it meant nonetheless. I wondered if that was the moment my mother would finally give up on me, the one mistake she'd ever allowed herself.

But when she came for me, what I saw in her face was a mix of worry and relief. She apologized to me. She rued what she'd done to me, sending be into battle at age 12, and, what shocked me most of all, she felt ashamed for having estranged me from my father. I hadn't known how it felt to be loved until that moment.

I met my father more often, afterwards. Yet when I saw him with his baby daughter Samantha, I wondered if he would've even noticed my demise when he'd just had another daughter, this time with a woman he really loved. I didn't want to lose him again, though, nor my little sister. I wanted to be part of their lives, even as I became a sentinel, and I lost more and more parts of myself in order to turn myself into a soldier.

I learned to employ minute control and the sense of motion of my ability whenever I wanted. Thus I kept a broken jar in my room, a piece of china I held in shape alone with thoughts from the back of my mind. I finally managed to hold up to the other Silvers who were stronger than me by birth. And becoming a stronger fighter was all I had at that time. I grew arrogant and boastful. I told stories about how I'd received the scars I didn't want the healers to erase.

"My ability had vanquished death."

"I saw the goddess of death and I chased her away."

"I looked into the eyes of the goddess of death and she looked back. This gaze endured so long that the abyss of death has carved itself into my soul and that is how I became the deadliest person in Norta."

My powers grew just like these dramatic stories. Or it was the other way round: I had to invent even grander metaphors to keep them up with my increasing skills.  

 I started to be called Queen of Limbs when I was fourteen and I fought with a strongarm on a First Friday. I'm a frequent contestant in those events, until now. That day, I used my quicker pace to escape his attack while shooting throwing stars at him, but it wasn't enough once he had me in his grip. I couldn't fight his strength and I felt my bones breaking, yet I didn't relent. Even with my body incapitated, I still had my mind. As I gasped for pain and breaths, I imagined his limbs twisting and turning until I saw only stars and blackness. Till he gave in, screaming out himself, and had me drop to the ground. While I was a double-edged sword, a weapon by body and brain, he was unable to fight if injured too hard. Despite my own wounds, despite being close to barfing from power overuse, I heaved myself up, forcing my broken legs to work so I could walk out of the arena victorious and with my head held high.

There was a huge difference between my family life and the profession I strived to live up to. I was a girl cleaved in two. I pretended things with my family were the same as ever, I had fun, wore pretty dresses and laughed. I ignored what happened during sentinel trainings, as I ignored that I was no longer innocent but a murderer even if it had been self-defense.

But Firebird and Sorata continued to be the most important persons in my life, friends I could trust with my issues when I dared to speak and relive them again.

 They were the only friends I ever had. We got into trouble and when stuff got bad, I got sent away. Basically.

I put my white dress on that night, dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight, barefoot in our town house garden while Firbird did the same. She looked as stunning as ever. Her beauty wasn't rooted in perfection yet to me, she was the prettiest girl I knew. She was fitting well into the verdant garden like the hummingbird she was with her aquiline nose, dark olive skin, rich make-up and her colourful, flowery dress. This party was a return to the paradise of our childhood, if we only tried hard enough. It was our present to each other, but mostly to Sorata. It was his birthday and we celebrated him, the Red boy, as our equal. To Firebird and me, he had never been anything else: not even then, after we'd spent five years at court, interacting with other Silver children, fighting in their wars and learning our lessons of supremacy. We longed to be disobdient, non-conformity was  written in our souls, yearning to be lived out, a feeling any teenager has to be familiar with, Silver ones as well. And Sorata meant even more to me.

It was an evening of stargazing, as the fragrances of summer, grass, grills and Mother's cigarettes hung in the air. We were drinking cherry schnapps in the velvet night, booze Firebird had snatched for us, even though we could get away with only so much. As the night wore on, I started to lean against Sorata while he played with my hair. Sometimes I moved the tresses around like snakes to tickle and caress him as well, and the play became bolder by the minute. We were an inch from kissing as Firebird raised her voice.

"Aren't you named for the sky, Sorata?"

She gave us only a glance as the contemplated the night sky. Yet Sorata coughed before he answered. "Yes," another cough, " that's right. Sky, or void. Vacuum. It's from an old tongue, from across the seas. Japanese."

I was stunned. "Really? I thought most of those relicts are gone?"

He shrugged. "My parents' ancestors came from there. Of both, I mean. Wonder if they'd noticed, and told each other the same myths." He laughed this off, as he was used to when talking about his family. His father had died long ago and his mother wasn't the most affectionate, even by Silver standards. Something stood between them.

Firebird nodded gravely. "It's good to remember. And it's a beautiful name."

"All of you have 'old' names, don't you Cassie?"

I blinked. "Yes, we do?" I realized I haven't let go if his shirt. I was practically sitting in his lap and I wanted to get closer still. Sorata knew and it made him nervous, blushingly nervous. He stroked my back, and I laid my head on his shoulder. He fit me better than my favourite sweater and Firebird was done with interrupting us. It didn't take us much longer to start kissing. And more. We were young and in love and in the end, we became each other's firsts, with nothing to rue. It was freedom, as much we were allowed to have. If we kept a low profile.

That was where the beginning of the end began, everybody knew that we had too much fun.

Enough people noticed. Some Silvers indeed kept Red paramours, but that wasn't what I wanted for Sorata and me, as nobles looked down upon either. Mother reminded me of this as well, frequently. Saying I had too much to lose to begin with. As did Sorata, she claimed, and her black eyes gleamed mean, envisioning what the more sadistic Silvers did to Reds who forgot their places, like by being in love with a Silver. She told me of one example and I gave in.

Sometimes love was not enough and the road got tough.

So it happened that Firebird and I went on a diplomatic mission to the Lakelands. A terrible decision, to be honest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seven is the number of men I’d had sex with. One was the boy I love, five were fellow sentinels. It isn’t an extremely large number, but apparently too many for a 20-year-old, or so some people thought, those who called me names for that. I claim not to care about that and on most days, I don’t. Consensual sex is nothing to be ashamed about and my ex-boyfriends don’t shame me either. Only those who like to gossip, who don’t care about what really happened, are base enough to insult me. I think them ridiculous.

I shouldn’t delude myself though. There was nothing romantic about my affairs, and my motivation was petty. After I’d noticed one man’s, Alex, interest in me, I saw a chance. A way to wield control over the real nobles, a game  that reduced sex to a mere power-play: Those boys and men I'd slept with were people I dared to trust, they liked and respected me, even after I’d broken up with them. Others lusted after me, hoping for more, and I prefered to punish them with ignorance if I could not bait them.

I hadn’t expected for this game to work so well, not for such a long time. I almost waited for my ex-boyfriends to hate on me, to beat me up in training, to group up against me, yet my fears remained unfounded. Slowly, I realized that maybe, if they really liked me, they might deserve better. But it was what I needed back then, control over my sexuality and through it. It was better to wake up next to someone I trusted than being alone in a moment of panic when I didn’t remember where I was or what had happened the night before. When all I saw was the imagined red blood on my hand, as if what had been done to me in the Lakelands, what I had done, had occurred just hours ago and not four years prior.

I tell myself that I'm afraid of nothing, but is that really true? Possibly, yet another truth is that while I was in the Lakelands, I was drugged and raped and I have survived. I've continued with my life and still have I to deal with it, the fact that a Red boy, just a few years older than me, had thought me the perfect target to exact his revenge on the Silvers.

He assumed that no Silver girl would dare to demean herself to report such a crime. He was right. As much as I hate him, the real betrayal originated from my own people who let me down, without a way to obtain justice unless I took it into my own hands.

Philip Cross raped a 15-year-old girl to find a conduit for his anger. I was obliged to remind him that this could not ever happen again. So I faced him alone in a boathouse in Detraon, and used my ability to pin him against a wall and inflicting on him all kinds of pain I could imagine.

Revenge was no joy, and justice an illusion. The only enduring reminder I gave to him was the R I engraved on his cheek.

"Remember this, fucker," I hissed between his winces, "remember what this letter stands for. Not Red, not rebel, not runaway. Rapist. That's what you are."

I could have done anything with him and gotten away with it, I knew that much. I didn't want to. I didn't want to sink to his level and even less did I want to admit to him how much he'd hurt me by punishing him even more brutally. Did I find the right measure? I don't have an inkling.

After I'd stained my hands with his blood, I tried to forget him. My whole focus was on keeping myself together. It wasn't easy, while staying in the foreign country with devious nobles around me like in the Whitefire, when I couldn't bring myself to tell Firebird, who was there with me, yet.

But the visit ended soon afterwards anyway. The Scarlet Guard attacked the court and I killed my first Red, to defend Firebird and the royal family she was talking to when the assault happened. I wondered if those terrorists had anything to do with Philip Cross, but I can't know as he didn't take part that day. As all but one of the rebels laid dead on the floor, Princess Iris looked at me acknowledgingly. She had captured one of them alive, a man who would later spill the secrets of his group, thus causing the destruction of a whole village that harboured the insurgents. I heard that much before the Nortan emissaries were asked to leave for home.

Some months later, I started to tell one family member after another of my violation. I needed to talk and yet, it wasn't enough. Nothing was. I got my tattoos. I trained harder, fought, and took lovers, but as time healed my heart it hardened it as well. I didn't hesitate to accept when King Maven ordered me to hunt his Silver enemies, to kill or capture them. I was good for the job, well experienced in fighting other Silvers and able to attack from the distance and the shadows, like the assassin some comrades started to call me, the true heir of the Siren. I spiked them with everything in the vicinity, I crushed lungs and made their veins burst for slower and more veiled deaths. I excelled, and yet it didn't make me feel any better.

Once, I even took part in a Newblood eviction. I continued to loath fighting against Reds, thus I was shocked to see how my comrades killed the whole family of the man who was our target without a blink.

To my relief, that remained my last hunt. Soon afterwards, Mare Barrow electrocuted the Witch Queen, and my mother sidled into my room the moment she heard that news. She'd waited for Elara's demise for decades. Gloatingly, she hinted at the prophet she'd met, a strange man who looked forward to cooperate with Maven. A Newblood himself. He told the king where Mare Barrow intended to go and the king set forth, taking me and several others he handpicked to finally capture the Lightning Girl. And so we did.

 I was no longer dating any Silvers at the time, and Lucas Samos had been the last one. It had ended in June. I broke up with him when things became serious - for him at least. He said he loved me, that he wished for us to stay together. That alone made me uncomfortable - I had no romantic feelings for Lucas. Then he said it.

"... and once we've found a solution for your de-, um, problem, we might even get married. One day."

I stared at him.

The silence dragged on.

I could see his resolve faltering and his heart fracturing by the second. He hadn' believed I'd let him down. He wanted to argue. But as his mouth opened again, I stopped him.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

I brushed his cheek for one last time. "I can't marry you. And we would be better off if we stopped this right now."

"Cassie!"

I let go of him. "I'm sorry you thought there was a future for us when there isn't. Farewell, Luke." I turned away from his devastated face. I'd tried to be gentle, but a part of me was too angry. I wasn't defected. I didn't need to be healed, least of all to make a proper bride for a Silver to breed with.

To be honest, I wish I could have children sometimes, I don't resent the idea of having them one day. But I will neither let myself be reduced to my reproductive abilities, nor to my sexuality, I deduced as much and so, I stopped dating. Not only to avoid another heartbreak, but to keep men like Samson Merandus at bay, men who felt "entitled" to me. He is the worst one, he doesn't even notice how much he disgusts me with his lusting after me.

A few months later, Firebird went away to become an officer at the choke. I miss her, like the moon misses the sun. I walk in the dark when she isn't around me to remind me that life is more than fighting and intrigue, even though she isn't a much better person than me, deep down. She only hides her vindictive and calculating parts with easy smiles, make-up and pretty dresses. I don't think she's gone to Corvium without another motive but her military career. She has chosen her path, but where does this leave me? I'm not who I want to be.

 I stand before Mare Barrow. She ignores me, focused on her own thoughts and her small tries to stay strong despite her imprisonment, the torture she's been through, and the SIlent Stone weighing on her limbs. She's a fighter, she won't give up. I respect that. I respect everyone who tries to bend and break the rules which are caging us.

 Commentary:

Again, I want to apologize to everyone who feels offended or hurt by me telling the story of a rape victim. Feel free to critisize or bash me for the things I've done wrong. I want to learn.

I'm not saying Cassandra's way to cope is the right one, or a healthy one, but it is the one she's chosen. Not only her sexuality, but her vengeance too. Maybe her punishment is too lenient. But I imagine her as a woman who has no idea about the "accurate" way to deal with such a crime in a society that I assume to be victim-blaming, thus I have her act on her instincts alone, instincts which are attuned to never show weakness. I write about one fictional person, I'm not saying how rapists should be punished, or how victims have to behave. This story is not intended to be generalizing.

I see that I might have Cassandra over-sexualized, yet this is a personal story about a woman pondering about her sexuality. I tried to put in other themes as well, but I realize that might be too little. I hope one can still read into the rest of her character that I've created.

I'm not 100 % happy with the way I wrote the love story part, I'm not the greatest romantic writer. I've used a lot of Lana Del Rey quotes in that part, to be honest.

[ellanainthetardis]

Prompt, Based on the one where Katniss calls Effie 'Mom': The group visits Annie & Jo in 4. Katniss' mom finds out they're there & overhears Katniss' kids calling Effie 'Grandma', & cue regret that she'd never met them, maybe someone even had to tell her who the kids were, & perhaps envy that Effie's closer to them all than she'll ever be now?

Here it is, some toastbabies with a side of old very domestic hayffie {X]

Grandma

The playgrounds in Four were a lot bigger thanthe single one in Twelve and Effie was running herself frayed trying to keep aneye on the children. Next time, she vowed, she would force Finn to come withthem. He was a nice young twenty-three year old man and he would never refuseher. He was even sweeter on her than his father had been. It was shocking torealize Finn was older than Finnick had been when he had died and when she hadseen him waiting for them on the station’s platform with Annie and Johanna, shehad been forced to swallow back a gasp.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Haymitch snorted.“Willow’s right there.”

Willow was climbing the monkey bars, urging hernewfound friends on – she was just as reckless as her mother and just as promptto make friends as her father. Effie blamed most of her grey hair on the eightyears old.

“And Rye?” she worried.

“Still in the sandbox where we left him.” hepromised, relaxing further against the bench they were sitting on.

He looked tired, she noticed, briefly takingher attention away from the children to study him. One of his arms wasstretched behind her along the length of the wood, his other hand was on hisknee and his fingers were restlessly drumming an uneven rhythm. He alwayslooked restless since the surgery. Or perhaps it was having been forced to giveup liquor for good.

On bad days, days when he felt weak and sick,he blamed her for what he was going through. He would have simply given up anddied if she had let him, let cirrhosis win and take him away from her… She hadfought and fought until he had surrendered and accepted to go to the Capitol toget a second opinion and then she had fought and fought until he gave in andagreed to have the operation. They could do all sort of things in the city, cure all sort of things that would haveotherwise been considered terminal. It simply had a price because those privateclinics didn’t operate pro-bono.

All their savings and a part of Peeta’s hadgone into getting him into that program and Plutarch still had been forced topull strings.

But it had been worth it. Oh, so worth it.

Now he had a brand new liver grown especiallyfor him from his own DNA – and perhaps it was similar to mutts and perhaps hehad had reasons to be wary but she didn’t care because he was alive. They wouldn’t have had much morethan a few more months together without that surgery and instead they had had twoyears and hopefully many more to come. Having to take meds every morning andnight and staying off the liquor were a small price to pay in her opinion.

“We are far too old for this.” she sighed.  At fifty-eight, she didn’t have the energyshe used to and the children were a handful on the best day. At sixty-four,Haymitch was even less partial to entire days spent watching children all tooprone to accidents. Babysitting was fine but she wasn’t sure how they wouldsurvive an entire week as their sole caretakers. “Next time, they can send themto Annie and Johanna.”

Truth be told, that week was supposed to be asecond honeymoon for Peeta and Katniss who had packed up for Seven while theytook the children to Four for the traditional summer trip. The children wouldjoin them later, at which point, Haymitch and Effie would switch hotels for asmaller cozier one where they would be able to have some honeymoon time of their own.

Haymitch tossed her an incredulous glance. “Youwanna send your preciousgrandchildren away for a whole week with only Annie and Johanna to supervise?”

“They didn’t do such a bad job raising Finn.”she countered.

His lips twitched into a smirk. “Have you metWillow?”

“Point taken.” she chuckled. Willow and Johannawould be a bad mix. Willow was always up to all sorts of shenanigans and Jo wasalways too willing to humor her. “Oh, no! Rye is crying…”

The three years old must have gotten some sandinto his eyes. Effie was already halfway up but Haymitch waved her down,hauling himself off the bench to hurry to the boy. Despite his grumpy attitude,she watched as Haymitch’s irritation melted around the baby of the family. Ifanyone had ever told her she would see Haymitch Abernathy, Quarter Quellvictor, willingly sit down in a sandbox to play with a little boy, she wouldhave laughed hard enough to break a rib.

Rye being safe with Haymitch, she turned herattention back to Willow who had now urged her little group of friends to theslide. They were apparently playing at having an adventure and Effie smiledwith fondness at the girl’s antics. She was having the time of her life, itseemed. Hopefully, if she exhausted herself enough she wouldn’t beg to go tothe beach later on. Effie refused to let the children in the water if there wasno adult to supervise – which often meant herif Annie or Finn were otherwise engaged. She could never say no, of course, it was the point of theholidays after all but… She wouldn’t have minded a quiet afternoon, truth betold. A fashion magazine, a cocktail…

Perhaps they could take the children furtherdown the pier where there were carousels and ice cream to distract them fromthe ocean when they would be done playing. They would enjoy it and they couldall go to the beach in the morning instead of…

“Miss Trinket?”

Effie looked up at the woman who had called hername, adjusting her pink sunglasses on her nose to see better – she was up toall tricks to keep people from knowing her sight wasn’t as good as it once was,she wore contacts and had her sunglasses corrected. It took her a few minutesto place her because it had been years since she had given her any thought atall.

“Mrs Everdeen…” she said slowly, without anywarmth.

Her feelings about the woman had always beensomehow mixed because she didn’t believe an eleven years old should have beenforced to care for her family when there was a capable adult present. But thathad been another world and she could have understood if the woman hadn’t packedup and left right before the end of Katniss’ trial, leaving Haymitch forced tostep up to take custody of the girl and thus compelled to leave her behind in the Capitol to look afterPeeta when she had barely been able to take care of herself and when theirrelationship had been at a very fragile breaking point. It had added a lot ofdifficulties that the obvious pain Katniss had felt at her mother’s desertionhadn’t helped curb. Never mind the lack of surprise on the girl’s part.

The healer looked hesitant but she flashed hera small smile. “I thought it was you. You haven’t changed at all.”

Effie patted her dyed strawberry blond hairself-consciously, she kept the reddish hue because Haymitch was fond of it andbecause it was close to its original colors. There were lines at the corner ofher eyes but she supposed the sunglasses hid those. The blue summer dresshugged a figure that, fortunately, was still appealing enough in her ownopinion, the scars having faded enough in the last two decades not to be sonoticeable. The hands, though, were the dead giveaway. They were old woman’shands now. Wrinkled and sometimes swollen at the joints, preventing her fromsewing or knitting.

Wait until you hitsixty, Haymitchalways mocked because it was went his body had finally cried uncle for him. Notonly the liver but his knees and his back.

“You neither.” she offered politely.

It wasn’t a far cry from the truth. AsterEverdeen looked the same, albeit a little older. Her blond hair was mostlywhite now, it fell in a long braid over her shoulder. Delicate hands wereclutching the strap of a medical bag passed over a shoulder over a medicaluniform of some sort.

“Are you still living in Twelve?” the womanasked with a touch of… eagerness. “Katniss mentioned you had moved there a fewyears ago.”

Effie pursed her lips. As far as she knew,Katniss had had almost no contact with her mother aside from the occasionalphone calls in the years after the war – and those phone calls had becomeshorter and shorter until they had simply stopped. Aster hadn’t come to thewedding and the girl had never forgiven her for it.

She glanced at the boy who was now busy withhis favorite game of let’s climb Grandpa andwondered if the woman even knew about them. How long since the last timeKatniss had talked to her mother? She remembered it had been a big deal duringKatniss’ first pregnancy, how the girl had uncharacteristically sought her company at odd times because shefelt insecure and needed the input of another woman, one she was close to andto whom she could confide things that would have had Peeta and Haymitchrunning.

“I have been living in Twelve for more thantwenty years, yes.” she confirmed. “With Haymitch.”

“Oh, of course.” Aster smiled awkwardly. It was public knowledge after all. It hadmade quite the scandal and they had appeared together at various officialevents since then – the anniversaries of the rebellion weren’t things they wereallowed to miss, particularly when they hit a new milestone. The healer clearedher throat. “And how’s…”

“Grandma!” Willow shouted, choosing that momentto come running to the bench. “Grandma! Can I get Tali’s number so I can callher tomorrow for a play date, please? Her mother says I can have it and we cangive her Auntie Annie’s if you say it’s okay.”

Effie glanced from the flushed girl to thewoman who was standing next to another bench with a little girl, clearly aboutto leave. She rummaged in her bag for a piece of paper and quickly scribbledAnnie’s number on it. Willow snatched it from her hand and was gone before shecould even blink.

She shook her head with an amusement thatquickly faded when she looked back at Aster. The healer was staring at thechild.

“I didn’t know you had children.” Mrs Everdeencommented.

“I don’t.” she denied. “Not biologic onesanyway. Willow is…”

She never had time to confirm what the womanprobably already suspected because the girl was back, her prize clutched in herlittle fist. “Can you keep it safe for me, Grandma? I really like Tali. I don’twant to lose it.”

“Of course, darling.” she promised, placing thepiece of paper with her little friend’s number in her purse for safekeeping.“Wait.” she ordered before the child could scamper away. “Here, drinksomething. It’s too hot to be running around without proper hydration.”

Willow took the plastic bottle full ofstrawberry flavored water without protest and dutifully sipped from it, knowingthat the sooner she complied the quicker she would be allowed to go back toplaying. Her grey eyes fell on Aster and her eyebrows shot up, she pointed outat the woman’s hair. “My mommy does the same kind of braids.”

“Does she, now?” Aster breathed out, her eyesshiny. She dropped on the bench next to Effie who had half a mind to protestbut didn’t quite know how to handle the whole thing. What would Katniss wanther to do? It wasn’t her place todecide how to introduce the woman.

“Yep.” the girl nodded enthusiastically.“You’re a friend of Grandma?”

Mrs Everdeen flinched and Effie realized itmust have been a slap in the face to realize she was grandma. Their biologicalgrandmother was a stranger to them.

“I…” Aster hesitated.

“Hey, squirrel, why don’t you go back to playingwith your friends, yeah?” Haymitch suddenly cut in, his voice a touch wary.“They look like they’re waiting for you.”

Willow didn’t need to be told twice. She tossedthe bottle at Haymitch who caught it easily despite the boy clinging to hisneck and snickering hard at the game. It wasn’t long before Haymitch hadsecured the three years old against his chest and had handed him the bottle hissister had left behind. Rye took a few sips with obvious relief. He was lessflushed than Willow but it was clear he wouldn’t have minded some peace andquiet. The way he was rubbing his eyes, Effie figured it wouldn’t be longbefore he took a short nap. Without him needing to ask, she handed him the frayedstuffed horse that usually resided in her bag when it wasn’t in his arms. Hewedged it between Haymitch and his body, cuddling it close.  

“Hello, Haymitch.” Aster said, a bit waryherself. “Hello, young man.” Rye peered at her under his long eyelashes andthen buried his face in Haymitch’s neck, placing his horse over his head forgood measure. The woman smiled sadly. “I trust this one isn’t yours either?”

Effie shook her head. “Why don’t you say helloto the nice lady, Rye?” The boy clung to Haymitch a little tighter and refusedto look at the stranger. She shrugged apologetically. “He is a bit shy but heis such a sweet child…”

“He’s tired.” Haymitch said, his grey eyesnever wandering away from Aster. Effie knew that look. It was the way hewatched out for threats. “I was coming to tell you we should bring the kidshome.”

“Wait.”Aster pleaded, sounding scared. She searched Haymitch’s gaze, found no sympathythere and turned to Effie. “How old are they?”

She hesitated but really… “Willow is eight and Rye is three.”

“Rye…”the woman repeated. “Wasn’t one of Peeta’s brother…”

“Yes. His favorite one.” Effie nodded.

“Oh…” Aster breathed out, desperately staringat Willow who was once more leading her friends in an adventure. “But Katnissdidn’t name the girl after…”

“It was too difficult for her.” she interruptedswiftly. Rye was now watching them without looking like it and he was a brightlittle thing. He would tell his sister who was naturally curious and would putthe puzzle back together. Questions would be asked if certain names wereraised. “We all wanted a clean slate.”

Naming the children after dead friends andfamily members… Nobody had opposed Peeta’s choice to give his son his favoritebrother’s name because none of them had been close to the dead young man. Primnow… It would have been too painful. Rue had been pushed aside for the samereason. In the end, Katniss had decided her children wouldn’t carry that sortof weight.

“And they call you Grandma.” Aster stated,almost accusative.

Effie opened her mouth, feeling all defensive,but Haymitch got there first and there was a growl in his voice that hadintimidated more than one powerful person. “Cause she’s there.”

“Do they know you aren’t their realgrandmother?” the healer asked.

And it hurt.

It hurt alot.

She looked down at her knees, brushing imaginarycreases off her blue dress. Haymitch automatically cradled the back of Rye’shead as if to shield him from those words. Unfortunately, the boy’s blue eyeswere staring straight at Effie who gave him a small reassuring smile. It wasenough for the child to smile back before he started sucking on his thumb. Itwas a habit they were trying to break him out of but she didn’t chide him forit.

“Now, you listen and you listen hard.” Haymitch hissed. “Effie’s just asreal as…”

“Enough.” Effie declared, standing up.

“Sweetheart.” he warned with a  glare, clearly dying to say his piece. He hadclaimed to understand Aster’s decision to not go back to Twelve after the warbut her behavior since then, her failure to come back into Katniss’ life hadleft him angry and bitter. He hated to see his victor hurt.

“Darling.” she replied in the same warningtone. She found another piece of paper in her bag and scribbled Annie’s numberfor the second time before handing it to Aster. “Katniss and Peeta will join usnext week. Call your daughter if you wish to see your grandchildren.”

“Don’t call if you’re just gonna take offagain.” Haymitch snapped. “They’re kids,not toys. You can’t just waltz in their lives and disappear right after.”

“I didn’t disappear, I left her with you.”Aster protested faintly, rubbing her face. “I could never have… I knew you werethe best choice, Haymitch. I knew you would look after her better than I evercould have. She had always been closer to her father, you know, and you… Youfilled that gap in her life.”

“Yeah, well…” he grumbled. “Effie filled theone you left so…” He shook his head.“I mean it, Aster. If you call, you better be ready to own it.”

“Willow!” Effie signaled to the girl they wereready to leave and the child came running, wrapping her arms around her middlewith pleading eyes. “No, darling, we really need to go home. Your brother wantshis nap.” she said firmly before Willow could beg for five more minutes thatwould turn into a half hour. “However Iwas thinking that after a nap and a snack we might just go to the pier.”

Where there would be carousels and all sorts ofgames and where, she was sure, they would end up with one of those giganticstuffed toys Haymitch grumbled so much about because they had ended up with ahuge stuffed panda and a zoo of smaller animals in their guest room given thatWillow was running out of space to stock them at home.

The girl’s eyes brightened and she squeezed herwaist harder. “You’re the best Grandma in the whole world!”  

Aster flinched and Effie almost felt sorry forher. Almost.

It had been her choice to give up on herdaughter after all.

“How about me, squirrel?” Haymitch scowled,faking a pout. “Don’t even get a hug? I smell or what?”

Willow laughed, carefree and happy, andswitched targets to barrel into Haymitch. He winced a little when her head hitthe always tender spot on his stomach but it was soon smoothed away by anexpression of utter fondness.

“I am afraid we have to go.” Effie told Aster,polite but a touch cold. “Do consider giving your daughter a call.”

They didn’t give her a lot of time to ponderthat. Haymitch herded the children away, Willow clinging to his hand. Theyhadn’t gone really far from the playground when the girl grabbed Effie’s freehand so she could walk between them and peered up at her curiously. “Who wasthe lady?”

“An old acquaintance.” she dismissed.

The word seemed to puzzle Willow who made aface and turned to Haymitch for clarification.

“Just someone we used to know, sweetheart.” heshrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

Willow pondered that and then probably decidedit wasn’t worth her interest because she started hopping happily between them.“Can Finn take us to the aquarium again sometimes? I like watching the fish.”

“We will ask him tonight.” Effie promised. “Butif he can’t we won’t insist, alright?”

Finn had been working at the aquarium since thebeginning of the year and she didn’t want him to get in trouble for them. Heloved his job, he loved taking care of animals, and she wasn’t sure giving themthe behind the scenes tour had beencleared with his superiors.

“Okay.” the girl agreed readily. She escapedtheir hands to run a little ahead.

“Stay in sight!” Effie demanded, shaking herhead at how impetuous that child was. A glance at Rye confirmed the boy was nowsound asleep in Haymitch’s arms. “What did you think?”

“Not sure.” he admitted. “Just hope she’sserious about it if she decides to call Katniss. The girl’s been let downenough.” His lips twitched with anger. “She had some nerves too, saying you’renot their real grandmother. What’s thatsupposed to mean? Who was there when Katniss went into labor? Who changeddiapers? Who stayed up all night with the kids when Willow had that fever?Who’s always there to watch the babies when the kids need some air?” Hescoffed. “Got some nerves, I’m telling you.”

She smiled at how protective he was of her butwaved a dismissive hand in the air. “She was just jealous, I think. What I getto be to those children… She will never have it.”

He seemed a little surprised. “Didn’t botheryou?”

“The comment did a little.” she admitted.“But…” She shrugged. “A few years ago, I would have been afraid of her stealingthem all away from me. Now… Now I know nothing can drive us apart.”

They had all been close since the war, theyformed a solid family unit that the children’s babies had only strengthened.But after Haymitch’s health troubles… Katniss and Peeta had rallied around themin a way that had brought her close to tears a few times. Katniss had beggedhim to take the surgery, she had raged until she had burst out in full sobs andshe hadn’t stopped until he had held her close like he almost never did becauseneither of them were touchy-feely –as they claimed. Peeta was the one who had sat Haymitch down and had forced himto consider everything he would be leaving behind if he chose to just give upand accept his fate – not only Effie but Katniss and him and grand-children whoworshiped the ground he walked on. The children had been there every step ofthe way. They hadn’t come to the Capitol with them but they had called threetimes a day to check on him, to talk to him, to make sure everything was goingas best as possible – to the point he had one day exclaimed that he didn’t needto be that coddled, all the whileflushing red in embarrassment and, Effie was sure, pleasure at knowing he wasloved that much.

So, no,she wasn’t scared of Aster Everdeen coming and stealing the matriarch placeback because that place belonged to Effie and to Effie alone. Katniss herselfhad confessed she felt closer to her than to her own mother. There was noquestion about how Peeta felt about her. And the babies… Well… Willow and Ryeloved her, she knew it deep down and she was secured in that knowledge.

“Look at you being all wise.” he teased.

“It suits me well, I think.” she teased rightback.

It didn’t have to be all hers or all Aster’s.She could share a little of them.

But it was Aster Everdeen’s decision to takethat first step.