The Hunger Games: The Alliance
Chapter Two

The train was there one minute and gone the next, and the world blurred as they passed through District 7 and District 6. Octavia sat in the train car, in the very back, in front of a large bay window. She concluded it must have been an attempt to create a sun room for the people of the Capitol. It was another touch of 'so-called' elegance and luxury that they could afford to lavish on something that was already beyond their means.

She lounged on the large seat, the span of the entire window, and cherished the sun as it kissed her olive skin.

It had been more than one occasion when Lear and Amaltheia joined her in the car and talked strategy. They had come to the conclusion that she would be indifferent to the whole thing. She tired of talking about her behavior, but was glad that she would be able to be herself during these games. She couldn't put on a false face for a crowd of blood thirsty aristocrats. For her it took more effort than what she put in to being in the actual arena.

It was also a much more dangerous game. In the arena you had an objective—survive—and all they were forced to do was kill one another and keep themselves alive despite the elements. In the Capitol there were rules and manners that had to be observed, and it was a far more risky game to play with.

She had played all sides of the game and came out on top, but there was never a guarantee that she would live.

"We're coming to your District—so we should get you dressed, Octavia. It will be almost time for the Reaping when we get there," Lear called from the doorway. He was leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and a solemn look on his face.

Octavia took one last look at the sun, then moved towards him with unsteady feet. "I'm ready," she said. In a flicker of a moment she almost believed it herself, but she could not lie forever.

"You are," he echoed.

Lear brought her into one of their spare rooms and began to show her which part of the outfit went where. There was no modesty or privacy between them as she began to undress and then dressed in the clothes he had made.

Amaltheia had come in moments later to help her as well. He had her dressed in an all-black romper and shoulder pads that had gold spikes and chains hanging from them. She had seen fashion like it back in the Capitol during her extended visits. However, they were not so dangerous and large as hers were.

His assistants began to braid the sides of her hair, pulling it tight against her scalp and let the rest gather in the back. One side was done while the other flowed over her shoulder in long waves and had gold shimmered flecks running through it.

Octavia hadn't anticipated the emotion of her team and on occasion they would sniffle and leave the room, claiming to have forgotten something.

Her makeup was dark, and her icy stare made her look more dangerous.

Lear cupped her face and smiled down at her, "You look like an angel of war. I have had the privilege of watching you grow from when you were first here until now, and I've never had a Tribute or Victor make me so proud."

Octavia pushed him off of her with a teasing tone, "You're becoming too nice, Lear. You need to stop hanging out with Theia." She pushed the comment away, too many emotions ran through her, and her awkward disposition took over. She had never been one to take compliments.

"I do look incredible. This will be a good thing—the other Victors will see who's reaped after. This makes me look like I'm competition for them," Octavia concluded.

"Even without all of this, you would be the fiercest," Amaltheia spoke softly. She quickly pressed the wrinkles out of her top and wiped the few tears that started to fall down her face. Her gold eyelashes were turning a dark black, her natural hair color. Octavia felt for her. Every year she would pick who was sacrificed to the Capitol's games, and this year she would send her friend to her death.

Octavia reached out and took Amaltheia's hand in her own, their skin contrasting against one another's. Octavia was olive, but Amaltheia's skin was a rich dark brown with blue undertones. It was a vivid contrast when Lear placed his arm around both of them, him being the fairest of the three. They were all so different in appearance, and background. Lear had come from the Textile District at a young age and Almatheia born into District 1 before becoming an Escort. They all shared a common goal this year, just like they had a few years prior—this goal was more important. It was bigger than the three of them and their few differences.

"We are very proud of you, please, just know that," Amaltheia cupped her mouth and turned her face into Lear's neck.

Octavia rubbed her shoulder affectionately, "I know—I will always know."

Theia nodded into Lear's neck and he ushered Octavia to go towards the train's exit, claiming that he would settle Theia down enough for them to walk out together.

She waited patiently for the train to be at a full stop when the doors began to open. The light crept inside the train compartment, starting at her feet and slowly rising with the door. She swallowed hard and stood rigid in place, her muscles tensing up as District 5 was revealed to her, or rather she was exposed to them. She could not turn on her heels and hide until they entered the compartment with her—she refused to be seen as a coward.

"Head up," she saw Lear and Theia move from the next car into hers. Their fingers threaded together, and he gave her a silent nod to start moving.

"Just breathe," she said under her breath and began the trek down the trains steps.

She stepped onto District 5's soil and became increasingly unnerved at her thoughts. She was home, but she couldn't call it that. It was just a place she had grown up and now it was a distant memory. Her home was somewhere else—with someone else.

Amaltheia and Lear led Octavia and the team through the crowd that had stopped to watch their Victor.

Octavia could see the young Victor, Clarke, standing up on the stage. Her mother stood next to her, coddling the young girl and fixing her fishtail braids. She had been granted access that would be revoked once they were on TV.

They approached the stage and the peacekeepers quickly ushered the mother away, as she tried to hold onto her daughter with shaky hands, reassuring her of her love. The woman glared at Octavia as they passed each other, but Octavia only gave her a grievous nod. She did not think she could convey her plan through one look, but the district would have to put their trust in her. Something, as she observed them, that they would not do lightly.

Her heels clicked with every step until she stood next to Clarke.

"Good luck," Clarke mumbled.

Octavia looked out at the girls mother and then to the daughter and sighed, "I don't need it. You'll sleep in your own bed tonight, Clarke."

The girl looked up at her with wide eyes," I could get picked—I am—I am a Victor too!"

"You could get picked, but that doesn't mean anything," Octavia rolled her eyes with a sad smile. She shoved her hands deep in her pockets after the peacekeepers had moved to the stage to take their DNA. The crowd was gathered and it would soon be time to go live to the Capitol.

"Welcome, welcome…to the 75th Hunger Games," Almatheia began speaking, but her voice didn't carry the optimistic tone that Octavia was used to. Her voice mirrored the heartbroken expression on her face, but she couldn't quite cry. It wouldn't be wise to show any other emotion but joy in front of the Capitol and their dogs.

"I'm here to announce this years tributes," her voice shook, "as always—ladies, ladies first." Amaltheia stared at the bowl in front of her and then back to her two Victors. She slowly placed her hand inside of the bowl and picked a name.

"Clarke—"

Octavia stepped forward quickly, and pushed clarke back behind her. "I volunteer as Tribute!" she shouted out and looked straight into the camera that had begun to circle her. She placed her hands behind her back in a military stance, then looked down at the girl. "I volunteer as Tribute," she said in a softer tone. "Go to your mother—she's worried for you," Octavia nodded towards the girl's mother who was a shaking mess.

Clarke ran from the stage and into her mothers arms.

"Our female Tribute this year is Octavia Blake, winner of the 72nd Hunger Games," Theia announced.

The mother stared back at Octavia and brought three fingers to her lips, kissed them, then raised them high in the air. Others had slowly joined her, making Octavia uncomfortable. She could not tell them to stop—it had already begun as peacekeepers moved through the crowds.

"The male Victor, Jasper Lincoln!"

She turned to her district partner and quickly shook his hand. His hand was sweaty—and his face paler than normal. She observed the way his knees looked as if they were going to buckle if he put any more weight on them. He was much older than she, middle-aged if she could guess. He had been a recluse in the Victor's village as well. It was suggested that he had such servere PTSD that he was unstable to do anything but sit in his living room and stare at the wall.

She did not pity the District as they continued to fight against the peacekeepers—the Victory tour should have been warning enough not to defy the Capitol in the present. They had brought up the rebellious symbol and now would be punished.

Octavia did not flinch until they knocked Clarke to the ground and began to pull her mother away.

"Hey! Quit it," she jumped from the platform and began running towards the peacekeepers. "She's the mother of the Victor! You can't do this—Clarke needs her," she screamed and began to dodge the oncoming peacekeepers who attempted to subdue her.

She heard a shot from behind her, but kept going—pushing past the crowd until a peacekeeper grabbed her hair and pulled her to the ground.

"I'm bringing her in," he said sternly into his mic and then pulled her up to her feet. Another peacekeeper came to his aid, and held her other arm as they dragged her through the crowd and back towards the train.

"No! Stop this! You cant—you can't do this to them, it's not their fault!" Octavia screamed obscenities at them. They did not stop until they reached the train and tossed her into the car, against the hard metal and shut the door. She heard two more shots and screamed, and began to bang on the door. When another shot echoed inside the train she raced to a window to see the damage.

Three bodies laid on the ground, and none of them were peacekeepers.

She stumbled back and placed her hand over her mouth. I am not afraid, she chanted to herself in her head. It would become her mantra for the rest of her life. I am not afraid.

"Octavia!" a voice echoed. "Octavia, are you here? Oh! Octavia—you're alright," Amaltheia looked her over as she rushed to her side.

"Where is Jasper?" Octavia questioned.

Amaltheia's eyes began to water and looked around. "They shot him—claimed he planned the riot. They shot him first and Miss Clarke's mother right after. On television, too!"

Octavia shook her head and looked out towards the window. Guilt was written on her features, "Lear?"

"He's on the phone with Haymitch. Miss Everdeen has had the same problem as you. District 7 has had similar problems and District 10. They've executed many people today."

"They're really going to kill us, aren't they? It has to be all of us—we're all threats to the Capitol. They know the strong Victors are going into the games, to protect the weaker ones. Just for the sake of killing Katniss and anyone that can ally with her," Octavia spat as she began to pace the room. "I won't let them get away with this, Theia!"

"They won't, but you have to play this smart—think of your life and the lives you can affect. Just play their game—you know they want a show," Amaltheia said ashamed.

Lear walked into the room, "A show is what they're going to get. When we arrive we're going to meet up with Haymitch and a few other Tributes. There is a lot to discuss," the implication rang heavy through the air and Octavia stared at him for a long moment until he nodded. They were going to do this.

She was aware that the Capitol could have been listening and diverted their conversation, "Alright—what torture do you have in mind this time? I swear I've been keeping up with waxing," Octavia smirked.

Lear laughed and waved his hand in dismissal.

"Your usual, Miss Blake," he teased. Octavia shuddered. They had bathed her four times in cold water during their process and even colored her hair. They had plucked every last hair off of her that could not be taken off by wax. They had even given her a liquid that tanned her skin and evened it out. She would never get over the strange things the Capitol did for the sake of what they thought was beautiful.

The day had gone by and they traveled back to the Capitol faster than they had gone away from it. Octavia suspected it had to do with all of the Riots that were beginning to break out. Amaltheia refused to show her who was reaped until she could be sat down with Johanna to watch the tapes. She claimed that it would overwhelm her for the moment—Octavia thought she was keeping something from her.

"She's not, but it will be confusing and you'll have Johanna to explain who the Victors are who you don't know. You've only won a bit ago and haven't tried to mentor any new tributes," Lear explained.

Octavia glared, "fine, but I could have been better prepared if you had just let me watch them."

"You're about as prepared as you'll ever get, so use this time to rest," he reassured her. Octavia couldn't rest. She couldn't bring herself to sleep or close her eyes for fear that her nightmares would return to her instantly.

All the more reason to, she thought.

Instead she kept herself busy with small things and tried to write down lists of things she would do if she survived. She would move from district to district and see how other's lived and along the way she would find someone to spend her time with, besides Johanna. She would leave Panem and run as far away as her feet would carry her, the danger of becoming and Avox be damned. She would never participate in another set of games again.

She spent time in the back of the car once more, and watched as the sun would rise and fall through the day until they arrived at the Capitol.

"I'm Octavia Blake. I'm from District 5. I have no family, but I'm not alone," she repeated to herself in the night when no one came to her aid as she screamed. Johanna was not there—she was not there to rub her back and sooth her when she tried to fight for more sleep. She was alone, but she wasn't. She didn't need to be alone once she was back with the people who understood.

They knew how the faces plagued their nightmares and their last actions were the ones that they would remember. The way the children from each district screamed as they took their last breath and then silence followed.

She would hate the Capitol forever.

"Octavia," Lear began to nudge her shoulder gently. She was startled awake and quickly grabbed for something to defend herself. He quickly held up his hands in surrender and backed away from her, "Whoa there! It's just me," he apologized.

"No, I'm sorry—I should have known."

"Don't ever apologize for defending yourself—I should have known better at this point, okay?" He gently tapped her chin and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"We're here aren't we?" she asked before flopping back down onto the bed and rolled over. She hugged the pillow to her chest and buried her face in the silk sheets.

He nudged her again, "Afraid so—it's time to go in an hour. Amaltheia will have a conniption if you aren't ready to leave soon."

"We can't have that," she mumbled into the blanket.

"Her schedule isn't so bad if you look at it like a long day. It means one more day you're not in that place," he said.

She ran a hand over her face and through her hair before looking back at him, "you can't actually believe that, right?"

"Every damn word," he promised.

Octavia shook her head and got out of bed, "She's rubbing off on you. I'm not sure I like you with this attitude," she said. Her attention was on the simple outfit that he had laid out for her. She pulled on a simple pair of jeans and knee high boots.

"I'm keeping with the black theme," he motioned to her black tank top and bomber jacket.

"It's a good theme," she said softly and stared at herself in the mirror. He had taught her how to apply makeup, so she applied it lightly and let him fix her braids on the side of her head. It made her hair look fuller and longer almost.

They had a comfortable silence between them as they finished and moved towards the exit of the train. They were still moving and were ready to move through the city and into the Capitol. She shivered and quickly began to move around, mumbling to herself that she wasn't afraid.

"Remember, no smiles or anything! We're pissed and we want them to know it," Lear instructed her as the crowds grew louder around their train. She nodded and turned away from him and towards the door, ready to take everything in.

"I have been kept in a cage all of my life—this is my time," she said decidedly and stood at the door with Lear and Amaltheia at her sides. The door opened and she was bombarded with the smells of potent perfumes and the bright sunlight and glitter that seemed to hang in the air. It was different than the Districts—it was an animal of it's own.

She didn't take her time as she marched confidently off of the platform, and the camera's began to circle her once again. She moved through the throng of people effortlessly and without regard to if they were screaming her name or not. They had been promised a life of their own after they won, a verbal agreement—a contract—that the Capitol had violated.

The crowds were wild and shouted her name with enthusiasm, men, women, and children all the same.

Her eyes stayed forward on her target, the apartment complex, and she paid them no mind. They had upgraded the facility, but the outside still looked the same after these years. She could hear another train, come from behind and she stopped.

Turning around she saw Haymitch and the star-crossed lovers get off the train. Their faces just as hard as hers.

"Haymitch!" she called a few times over the crowds until he faced her. His flirty smile was back on his face. He was one of the biggest flirts she had ever met, but she knew it was an act alone—besides his kindness, and his heart and eyes were only for one special Escort.

Effie was behind him with the two Tributes, cooing and making sure they made a nice impression.

"Well, well Pocahontas, look at you. Just as beautiful as ever, and I'm guessing just as deadly? How was your reaping?" He questioned.

Octavia scoffed, "About as fun as the first time. They killed my district partner, so I'm here all alone. Theia and Lear were here somewhere—but it seems they went inside already. Walk me to the apartments?" She questioned.

He bowed his head and held out his arm for her. They walked forward together as people began to chant Katniss's name and her moniker. Octavia was disgusted as children screamed that they wanted to volunteer as Tribute.

"How are they dealing?" she questioned.

"About as good as can be expected," He spoke softly. His eyes looked over her and rested on the gold chain necklace that she wore. "It looks like you've been informed," he said with a smile. She touched the chain that Lear insisted she wear for the rest of the games, no matter her costume. He had called it a small team emblem, but at Haymitch's reaction she knew. It was a symbol to others who knew—who was involved.

She looked around and saw a few peacekeepers watching them intensely, "Introduce me to your Tributes. Remember to talk me up," she smiled.

They waited just in the entrance of the apartments until Katniss and Peeta had arrived, with Effie bringing them through.

"Octavia!" Effie smiled with delight.

"Effie, as beautiful as ever and your hair color is lovely," Octavia complimented. She gave Effie a small wink and turned to the two younger Tributes.

"You must be the Girl on Fire, I've heard so much about you. I'm Octavia Blake. District 5," she held her hand out for Katniss to shake. Katniss stared at her hand apprehensively. "I swear I won't bite," she teased the girl. Katniss shook her hand with hesitation, and Octavia gave her a sincere smile. She turned to Peeta and shook his hand as well.

"I'll see you two at the Tribute parade. I hope Cinna has put you in fire again, but until then," Octavia bowed her head and turned on her heel. Walking quickly away from them and towards the elevators.

She could hear Katniss and Peeta questioning Haymitch about her and it made her smile. She could ally herself with them. Katniss was as apprehensive of strangers as she was, but Peeta knew how to fake his.

She waited for the elevator, hoping to go to Johanna's room.

"Octavia!" She turned to see Johanna with a smile on her face.

She ran to her friend and embraced her.

"Haymitch is towards the front promoting Katniss and Peeta. I need your help before we do anything else. Lear wouldn't let me watch who the other Tributes were, he said he didn't know enough about them," Octavia groaned.

"The reaping was pretty bad, but we can cover that now. These assholes," she said it louder, "have got the best mix of us here. We couldn't have even dreamed of something better." Her grin was filled with mischievous intent and it gave hope to Octavia.

Johanna pulled her into the elevator and pressed the button to the 7th floor. They stood there as the elevator moved up the floors and she could breathe again, the games were beginning and she knew how to play them—she would play them like the fiddle they were. They would be alright, she reminded herself and squeezed Johanna's hand with affection. They were sisters, both alone with no family—but together they made a makeshift pair.

She would try to survive.