Being in a wedding dress was not as fabulous as she expected. Especially with the live coverage of their wedding. It had to be big. The face of the Hunger Games couldn't just get married in private. The cameras zoomed to her face as she entered the cathedral. She smiled, though it was only for the public. She didn't enjoy the attention in the same way Caesar did. He looked good. As always. It seemed like a lifetime ago when they'd cried together after his second proposal. Tears were making their way down his face now too and she was honestly unsure if they were real. The ceremony was broadcasted to the entire Capitol, so they were probably fake.
After endless wishes of a long and happy life together, Effie barely held it together. She didn't know if she loved Caesar, but getting reminded of his eminent death every two seconds didn't exactly make her happy. She was good at faking smiles though. She did it through every sitting meal with her tributes, who rarely ate properly and she did it while they died in front of her on the screen. The night grew darker and darker, but the party didn't stop. Effie was too reserved to dance wildly amongst the crowd, so she kept to the group of people sitting casually talking. Caesar was somewhere in the other end of the giant hall where the reception was held.
"Mrs Flickerman," The words echoed inside her and fell to the bottom of her soul. She didn't mind name changes, Trinket had never been her own name anyway, but as a public personality Hansson just didn't sound that great. Flickerman would be better for her reputation. But it still sounded weird, that this was her. Surreal.
"I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the ceremony, I have such a busy schedule, but you of all people must understand keeping to it," The president continued.
"Are you flirting with my wife Coriolanus?" Caesar's joyful voice sounded from behind. Effie never liked the president personally, respected his work though. She had often enough sat through dinner parties at his mansion as Caesar's plus one and wished to be a different place, where the fate of Panem wasn't decided after a few bottles of wine. His hand crept to her waist and she felt him curiously play with some of the beading. Snow and Caesar shook hands. Caesar never spoke badly of Snow, but sometimes there were just that slight fade in his smile, that you only saw if you were entirely focused on only the lips of the man with the ever changing hair colours.
"Aah, Caesar, I swear, if you hadn't gotten to her first! Congratulations," Effie closed her eyes, the fake lashes touching her cheeks. They itched on her eyelids, probably from the glue becoming loose.
"Thank you," Caesar replied and subconsciously pulled Effie closer to him.
"Going on a honeymoon anywhere?"
"Well, E and I are thinking Poison Paradise, but it'll have to wait until after these Games, we're both too busy," Caesar said politely.
"I swear if that man doesn't stop bugging me, I might have to turn into a killer myself," Effie hissed into the phone from the trainingcentre while the drunken mentor from 12 was doing some sort of spectacular show with a glass of wine.
"Easy does it E, he is a victor after all," Caesar said calmly in the other end.
"Maybe he was a victor, now he's just … ugh,"
"Meet me in the make-up room before the interviews will you?" he asked her. She said yes, not knowing what else to do. Getting used to the married life hadn't been easy. Adjusting to living with Caesar all the time and his weird rules about the barrier between woman and doll, which she never really took that serious but now had to realize meant almost everything to him. He treated her very contrasting, pouring out his emotions to her when she wasn't wearing a Capitol get up and barely touching her when she was a doll.
"Hoping he'll get killed so you can inherit his money, sweetheart?" Haymitch asked from across the room after she hung up the phone with a violent motion. She felt a slight guilt form in her stomach, she hadn't calculated that Haymitch was sober enough to listen to her conversation.
"Shut up, Haymitch," she said without even thinking about it. Ironically for someone working with the Games the thought of death sickened her. She was scared each night when she went to sleep that she would wake up beside a corpse. What was she to do the day it happened?
"Then why did you marry him, if it wasn't for the money?" Haymitch abruptly continued his questions.
"Ever heard of love, Mr Abernathy?" she snapped at him, trying to refrain from crying. Why was she so emotional? There was no one forcing her to explain herself to Haymitch, he wouldn't even remember this when he woke up.
"Yeah, princess, and what you two have ain't love," he grumbled and walked out of the room, losing interest in the conversation, but ultimately leaving Effie alone with her thoughts. Love. In the Capitol, love was cheap. It could be bought for nothing but a few secrets or a favour, love was a currency, but often not a very powerful one. But yes, Caesar probably loved her, just as he loved thousands of other people. Maybe a bit more, since he chose her to be his wife, but it wasn't something she thought of often. She just accepted it. Loving Caesar was easy. She did it with caution, for she was afraid of what might happen if she fell too deep.
An avox stood outside the room, where Caesar got his make-up done. A sign on the door proclaimed it was his and only his dressing room. He wanted things to be perfect.
"I have an … appointment with Mr Flickerman, please open the door," she said to the avox who quickly and of course silently fulfilled her wish.
"E," Caesar said and gave her a thorough look. His eyes made her self-conscious and her hands automatically began correcting all the tiny or non-existent flaws, the invisible wrinkle in the bright purple fabric of her dress or the wig sliding of her head in her mind.
"What did you want?" she asked. They didn't see each other much while the games where on. He had his hosting, commentary and parties to attend. She had Haymitch's vomit to wipe up and sponsors to flatter.
"I missed you, is that a crime?"
"Blue suits your face," Effie said blushing from his compliment.
"I have an hour. Take of your wig,"
"I can't, C, I can't just…" He stood in front of her only carried by two large steps.
"Get out of the heels," She felt tiny as she followed his command and suddenly only reached just below his shoulder.
"That's better," he stroked the wig for a second before gently tugging it of.
"When you grow old, promise me you'll grow old as a woman and not a doll, not like me," he said with a sadness that made Effie revaluate everything she thought she knew about his superficiality. She was too stunned to speak. No matter how much she wanted to stand up for herself against his weird ways, he could still melt her heart with words and smiles and just the right amount of sarcastic remarks.
"You're not old," she chirped out with a low voice.
"No, that's exactly it. I grew old as a doll and look at me now,"
"C you…"
He guided her to his chair and looked at her in the lightbulb surrounded mirror. He then took one of the surely expensive jars of something and gently began rubbing her face with its contents. Her make-up disappeared like by magic. He didn't even have to use cotton balls or anything, it just kind of evaporated.
"Look at you. You're lucky you're so beautiful underneath all of that. Women rarely are these days,"
"Caesar,"
"Yes?"
"Do you love me?" Silence. His eyes no longer met hers through the mirror, but his hands never left her shoulders or cheeks as he absentmindedly touched her, while thinking. He'd picked up a brush to brush through her messy hair, before he replied:
"Yes E. Yes I do," She shook her head at his words and suddenly the tears she'd been holding in sprung fresh to her eyes.
"What's wrong?" He asked sounding genuinely worried.
"Do you love me? As in love me? Not just because I'm here, but because …"
"Why on earth would I marry you…"
"Don't lie to me, don't change your story. Would you have married me if you weren't sick?"
His movements stopped.
"Would you have said yes?"
She was somewhat happy the Games were on. That way she didn't have to experience much of the awkward tension created between her and Caesar since their conversation in his make-up room, which had ended in way too intense arguments and way too messy kisses. She didn't know what to think of it. Now all she had to do was focus on her job, getting Haymitch downstairs every morning, pushing around tributes like they were pieces in a game of chess. To training, to photo sessions, to fittings for arena outfits, to signing documents. Between all of that and more there was no time to worry about anything else. Haymitch loved to bring it up, though, but she quickly put up the same wall as when he began making remarks about how much he hated her and everything she stood for. Sometimes they hit and she became insecure for a moment.
As the games heated up she couldn't believe what she was seeing on the screen. 12 making a hell of a run for it. Seneca changing the rules – temporarily of course – but they actually stood a chance. One of them anyway. Haymitch and her began betting against each other on which of them would survive. Grim, she knew, but it made the thought of death seem less frightening. Effie bet on Peeta. They never did it with money for between them the right to mock the other one would be way more valuable than any sum of money. She hated him, but he did take her mind of Caesar.
Cinna took her hand as the noose creaked and the gamemaker drew his last breath, his body still shaking with spasms. Effie wept. The small group of people, including her, Cinna and Portia plus the rest of the gamemaker team were the only ones present at the execution. It was mandatory. It was a warning to the people who stood by and watched one man rebel against the most hardcore rule of the game. They'd upset the Capitol. One man had to pay.
"Was it bad?" Caesar asked when she'd whispered to him, what she'd witnessed. They weren't supposed to talk about it. Seneca had officially died of natural causes, but it was like hiding the scent of vomit with cheap airfreshener, the stench reeked out no matter what. Soon it would be something everybody knew, but no one talked about.
Effie shook her head. He stroked her back and it calmed her down for a bit.
"It's okay. I guess… I guess we just have to be more careful,"
"They wouldn't hurt you, E, they wouldn't…"
"I don't want Cinna to die either. Or Haymitch for that matter," Caesar laughed a bit at her addition. Haymitch being a living joke.
"No more people are going to die, E. Seneca had it coming for him, you're not going to do anything stupid like that, you don't even have the power to do anything that spectacularly stupid,"
She sighed and turned her face away from him. The Victory tour preparations began tomorrow and she had to travel to district 12 and then through every district with her winning tributes.
"It's fake," she said.
"What is?"
"Their love, Everdeen and Mellark, it's fake. At least from her side it is,"
"I know,"
"How?" Effie asked surprised.
"I know how a woman looks when she's in love," Caesar replied not looking at her, but still absently stroking her back.