Hey fellow fanfictioners. It's Lullaby and Phalanges here (a.k.a A Silver Cloud's Lullaby and Fluttering Phalanges a.k.a Grace and Jen). For the first time, we both have teamed up with each other to write a fanfiction, one of epic proportions.

Before we begin, we'd like to set a few things straight. Lullaby writes in Haymitch's POV and Phalanges writes in Effie's POV. Not all chapters will be broken up like this one. On the contrary, we both will be doing alternating chapters such as for instance, the next chapter is Effie's POV and the chapter after that is Haymitch's and so on. Now that we've got that covered, we hope you enjoy the prologue of "Forging Iron".

Title: Forging Iron
Summary: In which Haymitch and Effie are imprisoned in the Capitol. AU.
Genre: Romance/Drama
Pairings: Hayffie
Rating: M for violence, language, and sexual harrassment
Disclaimer: We own nothing. Sorry, lawyers!

Prologue

Effie Trinket had expected many things when the Third Quarter Quell was announced. Publicity. Fame. Sorrow at the loss of surely one, perhaps even two of her tributes. Her name, if she were graced enough, in some book telling of her escorting journey that would be passed on from generation to generation. Never though, in a million Quells, did she expect to witness the explosion that seemed to engulf the whole arena into flame. Nor was she anticipating that just moments after the screen went black, the door would burst open and her consciousness, like the television, would fade into darkness.

...

Ms. Trinket…

The words seemed quiet and yet so heavy as they slipped seemlessly through the haze that cocooned Effie's mind. She knew neither from whom they came nor their purpose really. But they cut through the blanket of sleep that had woven her in so tightly-like a light through a spring fog. She listened, waiting to see if this were merely a dream.

Ms. Trinket… Can you hear me?

Louder this time. It was clear to Effie that this was no subconscious thought. Someone was calling to her. She tried to grasp it, hoping to be pulled out by this voice. Instead, she found it nearly impossible to do anything. It was as if every muscle, every nerve had been silenced by whatever had frozen her in the first place. She waited once more. It was all she could do now.

Ms. Trinket? Hm, how unpleasant this is. You said she would be awake by now. Quite the pity. Perhaps a dose of that medication you mentioned earlier is needed. I do, after all, grow tired of waiting. I am only human.

Without warning, something thick shot through her veins. It coursed through quickly, a liquid so hot it seemed to burn throughout her body rather than flow. She was on fire now. Her heart beating more rapidly than ever. Blood pounding so loudly she could hear it in her ears. Without any control whatsoever, her eyes flashed open, meeting a light so blinding it took away from the pain she previously felt.

"Ah, Ms. Trinket, so glad you are finally able to join us."

Effie tried to focus, her eyes watering from the painful luminosity. Slowly her vision began to adjust and the direction from where the noise had come became clear. The moment everything became visible, her stomach dropped, her heart now thumping from a new cause.

"I apologize for that."

It was President Snow who spoke, his eyes like a snake's, pinpointed on something in Effie's arm. She looked down. To her shock, some sort of strange IV had been placed in her. Its position was so crooked it looked as if it had been simply jammed in without a thought of caution.

"You must understand that you had been out for quite awhile. I saw no other opinion."

She tried to move, but in doing so, pulled on her IV. A jolt of pain shot through her and she quickly ceased her movements. Dazed and confused, she attempted to cower back in her seat, noticing for the first time her wrists were placed in two thick, metal restraints holding her down. She looked to Snow wide-eyed, trying to find her voice.

"There is no need to be fearful, Ms. Trinket. I mean you no harm, you must understand that." Snow said softly, soothingly almost. "I just require some help from you. Can you do that for me?"

"Help?" Effie asked weakly, her voice dry from lack of drink.

Snow nodded, "You see, Ms. Trinket, something awful happened today in the arena."

It took a moment, but slowly the memories of the day came back to her. "The explosion," she whispered. "The arena…"

Snow nodded once more. "Your dear tribute Katniss Everdeen seemed to find the urge to destroy my arena. Did you know of this, Ms. Trinket?"

Effie shook her head. She truly had no idea of what had happened. She looked up to meet Snow's gaze only to find he was frowning slightly. She knew this had not been what he had wanted to hear.

"Ms. Trinket, I only wish for some answers. Can you not find the decency within yourself to offer me such?" He leaned in closer, the mixture of blood and roses emanating from him. It made Effie lightheaded. "Can you tell me why she did it?"

Again, Effie shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I…I do not know why Katniss did that. Perhaps she was frightened or set up or…"

"Or was in on the rebellion?" Snow questioned, his voice suddenly cold. "Is Katniss part of the rebellion?"

"Rebellion?" Effie asked surprised, her voice suddenly louder.

Snow exhaled, his eyes shutting for a moment. "Please, don't play coy with me, Ms. Trinket. The false act of stupidity will get you nowhere, I can assure you."

"I have no knowledge of this rebellion!" Effie said frantically. "There must be some mistake!"

Snow genuinely frowned. "Why must you keep denying everything, Ms. Trinket? I only wish to help you. And by not helping me with this, you are not helping yourself. Your mentor, your tributes, your stylists-How can I believe that you know nothing when they all did? See my reasoning, Ms. Trinket?"

"I swear to you!" Effie was trembling now. "Why would I put my reputation at risk? Why would I destroy all that I have created for myself? Please, President Snow, believe me!"

Snow gave a sigh and to Effie's surprise, he stood up. "I am a reasonable man, Ms. Trinket. I do not use force unless need be. I do not harm unless I see it fit. But as of right now, you leave me no choice."

To her horror, Snow snapped his fingers and from a doorway she was just now seeing, a tall figure emerged. Effie watched as Snow walked towards the door, whispering something inaudible to her ears to the man.

"It's quite a shame, Ms. Trinket," Snow said in an almost believably sad tone. "I really did like you."

He exited the room before Effie could get another word to him. The door shut, and Effie's heart began to pound as the figure made his way towards her. She had pulled from a dream into a nightmare.

Ow. Damn. What the—

Haymitch Abernathy came into consciousness aware of one thing and one thing only. His head felt like it had been used as target practice for Johanna's axe swinging. It was splitting and cracking into his skull. He must have one hell of a hangover.

He shook his head to clear it.

Bad idea.

Pain split through his head. His ears were ringing, and he could swear he could feel his heartbeat in his brain. He clenched his jaw and hissed through his teeth. Okay, so this wasn't any ordinary hangover. He either did something very stupid or made someone very angry.

Or both.

Haymitch racked his memory for any recollection of the night before. His head protested against the effort, but he fought through it. He searched his muddled thoughts. All he could remember were bright lights, spinning rooms, loud banging, and angry screaming. In Haymitch's life, it could mean anything. Not anything helpful, however. He'd need something more concrete.

Haymitch furrowed his brows trying to think harder. It brought another migraine, this one more painful than before. Was his brain trying to explode out of his cranium? He tried to bring up his hands to clutch his temples. For some reason, he couldn't. He couldn't move his arms at all. They seemed to be restricted.

Cautiously he opened his eyes. There was no light, thankfully, to worsen the headache. He looked around the room in a confused haze. It was dimly lit, and nowhere had he before seen. It was clean and sterile. It looked harmless, but Haymitch could sense the ominous air it held. Of course, that was probably due to the fact that he realized he was tied to a chair.

Tied to a chair?

It was metal, cold and slimy even through his ragged clothing. Metal clasps attached to the armrests bound his wrists and triceps. Clasps of the same variety bound his ankles to the legs of the chair. As the throbbing in his head intensified, he could feel his temples thumping against a metal band that wrapped around his forehead, binding his head to the back of the chair.

Haymitch felt beads of sweat form around his temples and along his upper lip. It was enough to make his nose twitch, but he couldn't move his hand to itch it even if he wanted to. He was completely restricted for reasons unknown.

He only knew that something was very, very wrong.

Working past the pain creeping to his eyes, he searched around the room to find something—anything—of use. If he could find a nail or some kind of pick, he could scoot the chair over, topple it over, grab it, then try to free himself from whatever was going on. His survival instincts were screaming at him, along with his ache for a drink. He needed to get out of here. Wherever he was, he was in serious danger.

Nothing. Not a blasted thing was out of place in this way too clean room.

No, there had to be something. He was smart, he'd find a way. He just needed to focus, memorize his surroundings, analyze his situation, and construe a plan of action.

It'd be a lot easier if this damn headache would subside!

Okay, first things first. Memorize his surroundings. Where was he? He knew he was in a blank room. It was an ugly eggshell color with a door to his right and a barred window to his left. His shoes had been discarded somewhere, and the floor beneath his bare feet was cool and silver tile. There was something tickling his memory. Something that was desperately trying to give him a hint as to where he was.

Just before Haymitch was sure he had broken through the amnesiac barrier, the lights went out in his room. Adrenaline shot through his veins, alerting him of impending danger. Channeling his automatic frightened energy into determination like he's had to do for so many years now, he scoured the blackness to adjust his eyes. Once adjusted, he tried once more to focus on his memories, willing himself to work past the pain.

As Haymitch struggled to clear his head, to find out where he was, he was suddenly overcome by a suffocating aroma of roses. Roses...and blood. Suddenly, in the dark, quiet room came a voice, soft as velvet and spine-chilling as Death itself.

"Ah, Mr. Abernathy. Welcome."

Two cliffhangers in one chapter? Pretty thrilling right? We'd both love any feedback you readers have to offer (constructive criticism approved and appreciated! We'd love any input on how to make the story flow better so it doesn't sound too much like two different writers). It inspires our mines to pump out new ideas and get those chapters out faster. Hope you enjoyed and stay tune for the next chapter! -Grace and Jen