That year in the Capital they call her an Ice Queen. They say the Snow Princess has grown cold and harsh like her grandfather.

Of course, no one says these things in anything but rumored whispers fueled by unease from rebellion in the districts. The rebels who have been trying to kill her grandfather over the years have now begun to worry about whether the younger Snow is just as much a danger to them as the elder. She is planning the 3rd Quarter Quell with a vengeance to be feared. They whisper that she was beaten in the last games, and now she's cheated the cards to get a chance at destroying the precious victors from district 12.

They couldn't be farther from the truth.

The districts seem to hate her more than they do President Snow for dragging Peeta and Prim back into the games. She has no way of telling them it isn't her fault. This wasn't her plan. It was all Plutarch Heavensbee who ruined her games. She was going to show the mercy of the Capitol. Her games would be the first to let all the tributes live. The districts would have rejoiced, would have loved the Capitol for sparing their children.

At least that's what she tells herself. It plays on repeat in her head, all the maybes and could have been lies. She's still a little girl playing at stories, it's the only way she sleeps at night through the terror in her dreams – terrors she's created.

There would still have been an arena battle of course. There had to be. But the tributes would be protecting mutts to kill in their places. She'd been inspired by her own mutt, Griffin. The tributes would each have a mutt, and when their pet was killed by another tribute, they would have been disqualified. Katniss thought it might actually have a chance at working if she could convince her grandfather – the key point being convincing him. There would be a random draw to see who got which mutt. It wouldn't have been actually random of course, she had her pairings all picked out.

The victor would be a girl from 1 with a lioness styled mutt. The Capitol would be consumed with a lion craze and forget all about the Mockingjay symbols that haunted her from the 74th Hunger Games.

Then Heavensbee had to beat her to the punch.

Katniss was going to have him beheaded. In fact, she was going to do it herself. Every time he idled up to her making suggestions on how she should run her games, Katniss thought about killing him then and there. It wouldn't matter, no one would care, but she kept her temper in check. She needed a fall guy to blame when this all crashed and burned.

She drank heavily throughout the reaping. Twenty years old, the most powerful woman in all of Panem, and she can do nothing to stop this. She downed an entire glass of whiskey that burned her throat when she watched 12. Peeta volunteered to take Haymitch's place – of course the idiot did. Of course he did, why the hell did he have to be so stupid? Peeta glared into the cameras as if he thought the whole of the Capitol would burst to flames if he tried hard enough. She scoffed at him, pouring another glass of whiskey, spilling liquids over the sides of the cup in her hazy state.

The three finger salute rose. It'd become a symbol of the rebellion, starting in the last reaping and peaking when Prim saluted district 11 for their sacrifice after Rue's death – starting a riot that began the rebellion.

Three finger salutes and Mockingjay pins and nightlock berries, how can three little things have brought her downfall?

The televised version cut off the salute. No need to add fuel to the flames. Katniss figures 12 will soon join the rioting. She can hardly believe they get some of the other districts under control long enough to reap their victors without any incidents. It was a narrow escape in 8 when they reaped a mother whose children clung to her crying. There was rioting before the train even departed an hour later.

Katniss can feel her grandfather growing angrier with her, more impatient.

It's not her fault, she tells him. It's Heavensbee that keeps telling you things that lead to these problems. It's Heavensbee who didn't stop the order to change the rules in time last games. Katniss can vividly recall even drunk the moment she realized he was a traitor when he danced with little Prim at the end of the victory tour. Oh she knew, she knew without a doubt, she just didn't know the plan. It was like staring at a chess board, but she can't see where the opponent's pieces are or even what they are.

She remembers standing on the balcony with her grandfather as he congratulated the victors at the end of the tour. The crowds turned to watch the fireworks while Peeta and Prim looked back at the balcony to meet her gaze. She'd shook her head subtly. No, they hadn't been able to convince her grandfather or the districts or anyone. The rebellion continued, and it was their fault for defying the Capitol. Katniss was furious with her two victors. She was furious with Heavensbee. Couldn't the rebels have just waited a few more years? Her grandfather had to die eventually. And when he did she would take over, and there would be no one to punish or kill her for making things right.

He was getting sicker already. She could tell, fussing and worrying over him when he wasn't lashing out at her.

Damn them all. She didn't need to be their savior. She wasn't a district dweller. Katniss Snow was a Capitol citizen, granddaughter of the President. She had her kingdom, and she would rule it with or without the districts' support. As long as she could keep her kingdom in one piece until her day came.

She lounges watching the tributes in the new training center. It's a work of art, and at least some of the tributes look like they belong. Her victors are all there except for Chance and Annie. When the old woman had volunteered to go for Annie Katniss had been barely able to withhold her relief.

She stares at the tributes like a queen on her throne, passing judgement over them all. She wears outfits like armor now, reds and blacks and golds. Let the world call her an ice queen, she will always be the fire of her family and the outfits Cinna designs for her reflect that.

They won't win this time. She is the gamemaker, the creator of this story. She'll manipulate every thrice damned moment of this Quarter Quell until the result is exactly how she wants. No surprises, no unexpected victors, no Heavensbee interference.

"Seeing any you like?" Speaking of Heavensbee.

"I'd like to see you dead," Katniss replies, turning to glare at Plutarch before looking back to where Prim kneels beside Beetee and Wiress who motion to the force field and draw Prim's attention to it. "What do you want Heavensbee?"

"There's no need for such violence," He says, taking a seat beside her. "We're on the same side."

"Are we now?" She looks to him with disbelief and conceals her surprise at his sure expression.

"I most certainly think we are." He sounds confident, he looks confident, and Katniss is confident he's a rebel. That doesn't add up for her. They can't be on the same side. "You're a smart young woman Miss Snow. You've always been perceptive, always known more than people think you do."

Is he baiting her to reveal her knowledge of his status as a traitor? Does he want her to tell him she agrees with the rebels who want to kill her grandfather? To take down the government she wants to one day rule? Katniss's hand twitches, she's itching to go down to the training room tonight and shoot a few arrows in the archery station. It's a secret little hobby of hers that she's not even sure her grandfather knows about. She's hid it well with overlapped video feeds, bribes and threats. But of course, he probably knows. It's foolish to think her grandfather is uninformed of anything that goes on here.

"That's true. You'd be surprised the things I know about you."

It's meant to sound threatening but he laughs it off. "Oh, I don't think surprised is the right word. Satisfied, maybe, seeing as I'm still around despite all my skeletons and dirty secrets."

"You're a crafty man. I'm sure you could weasel your way out of most situations."

"I have all sorts of escape plans for getting out of bad situations. I'm sure you don't want to hear the tales of my partners though. You always seem so… innocent despite all else."

Katniss can only stare at Prim whose moved on to making fish hooks with Mags. The old lady dotes on the little girl, patting her head and offering kind smiles.

"I'm hardly innocent," Katniss doesn't mean to whisper it but the words come out that way anyways.

"You'd be surprised how many people think otherwise. You've got a lot of admirers, and a whole lot of supporters. Everyone thinks you'll be President after your grandfather."

She turns her head to him slowly, studying his smug face. "And what do you think?"

"I think you could get there… with the right friends." He's always so smug, like he's already won the war.

He wants her to join the rebellion. That much is clear.

Katniss, however tempted she may be, will never agree. She's too full of fear and too lacking in trust. All she can imagine of the end to this tale is her being executed beside her grandfather after helping the rebels to bring her own demise. They'll lie to her, manipulate her, pull all the resources they can from her and then they'll kill her. It's what her grandfather would do. It's what she's learning to do.

"What will it matter if the rebellion isn't snuffed out before it can kill my grandfather and me and put someone else in our place?" They'll burn her alive she bets, turn her flame colored clothes into true flames to eat her alive on live broadcast like she's done for dozens of tributes eaten alive by mutts.

"That won't happen." He assures. "No one's going to kill you, the darling Princess of Panem. They might try to kill President Snow, but how much chance do you really think they have of succeeding. They'd need district thirteen and all its weapons. Everyone knows that's not possible. The rebellion doesn't stand a chance."

It's a lie laced with truth. Katniss is left reeling. District thirteen. District thirteen. District thirteen. The dead district. District thirteen.

They made weapons. They made weapons that could destroy all of Panem, or just the Capitol.

Katniss can't look away from Heavensbee, can't decide if she should simply have him killed now and end this all before it begins. She decides quickly not to, and knows just as fast that she'll regret it later.

"Are you alright? Still with us here?" He waves a hand in front of her face once, trying to draw her out of her shocked state.

Katniss doesn't reply. She turns back to the tributes and finds several of them watching her and Plutarch's conversation from the corners of their eyes, heads tilted just so to appear still focused on their tasks. Swallowing down her emotion Katniss conceals it all behind what she hopes is a blank mask to hide her fear.

She has the gut wrenching realization that it's unlikely the rebellion will fail. Not unless someone stops them.

"What do you want from me Plutarch?"

"I just want to be friends. One day you'll be President and need someone to promote to Head Gamemaker after all." She refuses to look at him again, but she can practically hear the upturn of his smile as he plays for the cameras. Always so smug. What will it take to knock that smug grin straight off his face?

She could always have his face removed. Now that's an idea to save for later, Katniss thinks.

"Oh is that all? Consider the job yours if I'm ever in charge, now go away." She flicks her hand at him, meaning to wave him off like the annoying insect he is.

He shakes his head, not done poking and prodding at her yet. "You've got a bit of bruise showing under your makeup."

"I fell."

"You fall a lot?"

"No," She snaps back at him, fighting to control her temper. She grabs a drink from a passing Avox and downs half of it. The alcohol burns its way down her throat as it always does and she takes another large gulp to follow the first. She's getting a lot better at drinking. Even the strong stuff goes down much easier these days. People are starting to whisper about it behind her back.

"Drink like that and you will."

She slams the cup down so hard the glass cracks. "I don't remember asking for your opinion!"

Now she's done it, she's yelled and drawn the attention of the other gamemakers.

Plutarch waves dismissively to them with a friendly smile Katniss wants to slap off his face. "Just arguing about the level of difficulty in some of the stations."

Oh for the love of… "Really?" She demands loudly- too loud, too loud. "Which stations do you just now want to call unsatisfactory?" She helped create most of the concept designs and ideas for the hologram stations. This is her work, her project, her well-being depends on everything being perfect. "After we've already got the tributes here practicing in them? Would you also like to discuss the unsatisfactory carriages for the parade tomorrow so we at least have time to fix them?"

He has the nerve to look surprised by her angry outburst. "I wasn't calling them unsatisfactory. Just difficult. That's not a bad thing."

"They have different levels of difficulty!" She's screaming at them. She's actually lost her temper and now Katniss is screaming at him. Her grandfather is going to kill her – well maim more likely than kill. "Do you really think you can waltz in here acting like you own the place and expect people to believe anything that you say? You go around spilling so many damn lies I wonder if anything comes out of your mouth that's not bent on manipulating someone! Stop trying to change things! That's how people get hurt or worse – DEAD!"

"I just think they're too hard to learn anything from is all." He replies in a voice still so calm and collected she's seconds away from throwing something at him. She stalks away from him, grabbing a new glass that isn't cracked from an avox.

Breathe in, breathe out, calm down Katniss. She repeats it over and over in her head. She repeats all the things she knows about herself. I am Katniss Snow. I am twenty years old, the most powerful woman in Panem, the granddaughter of President Snow. I am in control.

"Are you okay?"

Katniss turns and throws the glass at his head. Plutarch ducks, the glass shattering on the force field and sending shards of glass spraying in all directions. Gamemakers and Avoxes duck for dover, raise their arms to shield themselves, Plutarch hits the ground. Katniss stands there and takes it, eyes closed against the onslaught of glass to protect them. Shards of glass bury in her skin where her clothes aren't thick enough to stop them. They're tiny for the most part, little needles that stick to her skin. They all stare at her, at the tiny pricks of red that well in places where large enough shards have sunk low enough to draw blood.

"I'm fine." Katniss holds her head high, stares him down with as much fury in her gaze as she can muster while her nerves start to register all the places she's in pain. "Thank you for asking. If you'll excuse me," She turns on heel, ignoring the light crunch her heels make every few steps. She needs to go to the infirmary, get the glass removed from her skin and the wounds healed. It's a good excuse to get the bruises fixed anyways. Katniss will deal with her grandfather afterwards, no doubt he'll have something to say about her outburst.