Warning: poor authorship, slash (or lack thereof).

I hereby disclaim ownership of the original work of the Hunger Games.

A/N: Credit for this chapter goes to the Fight for Dominance from guysonfire. A joint credit also goes to Tylerstories – enter Peeta.

A/N: In this chapter, Marvel uses the 'majestic plural,' which means that he speaks as though he were more than one person, though he is only one person. Kings and Queens do this to show that they are 'majestic,' by using the plural pronouns.

A/N: The asterisk (*) is a reference in English history, the Baronial Wars of the 12th Century.

Dictatorship: Chapter 3 –Marvelous Majesty

Everybody looks at me – a silly little boy trying to impose his will.

"From now on," I pronounce with as much authority as possible, "everybody will call me 'your Marvelous Majesty' when you speak to me. And I will start using the royal pronoun. We will not tolerate this disorder and chaos in our dominion."

Silence in the room. Perhaps, it was too funny to be funny.

"We declare that the sole authority to make decisions shall be in us vested."

"Yes," Cato says, again with the sweeping bow, "your Marvelous Majesty."

"And we do, for the wellbeing of our Career Pack, hereby appoint in our absence Gloss our Lord Chancellor to deal with sponsors.

"Love and charity is not amongst you; look, what love is in one, when one calls another a weakling, a coward, or a heretic, and another calls one, a monster, an imposter, or an utter fake…" I trail off as a silver swathe of sheer metallic malice rushes to within an inch of my life: or death – in this case, regicide.

"Enough!" shouts Finnick Odair.

Seizing Cato's personal sword, he uses the tip to force me to the end of the throne room.

"Is this what a subject does to his King, Finnick Odair?"

I have a feeling that he's going to say that being called the "Marvelous Majesty" doesn't help anybody win the Hunger Games.

"This is unconstitutional, your Marvelous Majesty."

Thinking about the prospect of being deposed by the Baron* Finnick Odair, I think just the right bit of compromise would ease the situation a bit. It doesn't help with winning the Games to be dead.

"Finnick Odair," I say, "our grace will grant to thee thy accustomed freedoms & liberties, and thou shalt be loyal to me and my successor."

Now I have Finnick trapped; killing me after having an option to a compromise will definitely defame him. Now, I merely need…

Peeta barges into the compartment through the door, with a cup of hot chocolate on his hand. The aroma steaming from the cup almost set my mouth watery, but I will need his support to have a ruling coalition on the surface that will appease Finnick Odair, and in reality an autocratic dictatorship led by the Marvelous Marvel, under the guise of democracy. Ha! I must have an IQ of 450. I have tried this upon a number of others now, but none more perfect than Peeta.

"Dear Peeta!" I say without our (oops) my regal stateliness, "We, sorry, I would like you to be a co-leader with me for the Career Alliance this year!"

"Uh…" he hesitates, perhaps not immediately cognizant of the importance of this celestial promotion granted to him, "am I… really up for the job?"

"Of course!" I praise, without really knowing of his abilities, "you are impartial, judicial, and neutral! You know, the Careers usual split right down the middle due to unresolved disputes, and if you could lead the Careers with me, we could ensure that we all come to sense! Not to mention your ability to furnish us with advice on how non-Careers think!"

"Oh… Gee – I suppose…"

"Furthermore – you are conciliatory, and your gentleness will be a perfect buffer for the Career-temper."

I stare at the other Careers, expanding my eyes to the largest possible diameter.

"Well… I guess I accept them."

"Mr. Odair – you are satisfied that I am not acting unconstitutionally, are you?"

"For the moment."

The benefits of having Peeta as a nominal co-leader for the Alliance this year can be considered threefold: the first I have explained, the second is that if I make a wrong move, I can shove responsibility onto Peeta, and thidly, once he gets enough blame, nobody would miss him and I can easily dispose of him. Oops – he can re-adapt himself for other purposes. An unremunerated benefit is that Peeta also brings a refreshing reformation to the typical Career image: that we aren't close-minded, we aren't impulsive, and, most importantly, we can think and strategise. A fifth advantage is that Peeta is also attractive in his own right; of course, tall, blond, decent build, etc. all work towards his advantage, and his gentleness is the No1 attraction. Peeta can work for me as a human-shield against Cato… Conclusively, the benefits are endless.

Later that evening, I meander to the end of the train for the observation & parlour car. Lovely really, the parlour section is richly decorated in a long-gone fashion, and there are six really comfy sofas facing large windows. I gather we are passing through District 2 at the moment, and the setting sun with the gleaming, snow-covered peaks give a feast for my eyes and a spiritual uplift for my dwindling attention.

Night falls, and I am summoned to the powder room, and as I am about to exit, I hear footsteps raging through the corridor out side of the door.

"Peeta," the voice, slightly slurred, says, "what's the good news?"

"So, Marvel was like, 'I would like you to be with me joint-heads of the Career Alliance this year.'"

"So," the voice replies, with a slightly lowered, raspier tonality, "what was the good news?"

"That was the good news."

"If so," the voice continues to deteriorate in gentility, "what do you call 'bad news'?"

"Haymitch, this is a great honour and chance to save Katniss."

"Peeta, do you know what this means if you accept?"

"But I have."

"You've what?"

"I've accepted."

"Peeta, this hideous appointment has been hurtling and echoing in the train for the past few hours like a grenade with the pin taken out."

"But I get to be the joint-head of the Career Alliance!"

"Peeta… how can I put this in a manner which is close to your heart – you simply can't win. Do you think Marvel is really going to let you make big decisions? The effectiveness of the Career Alliance hinges upon the fact that they make decisions quickly and execute them immediately, and your inclusion at the apex will do nothing but destroy that effectiveness. Do you think Marvel doesn't know this and is willing to destroy their premier strategy for the sake of 'democracy?'"

"So he might; that Katniss can have a better chance."

"So he might not; that's the beauty of the plan for Marvel, and the ugliness for you; as a 'leader' you will inevitably be compelled to divulge Katniss's information to them, and you serve as nothing but a rubbish dump for erroneous decisions made by Marvel. As such, you will not be able to influence the decisions made; you won't be able to take credit for the right ones either."

"Haymitch, I am convinced that this is a great chance to win for Katniss."

"Peeta, you must resign from this job immediately. If you resign now, Marvel can't hurt you yet; if you resign in the arena, Cato will disembowel you over the course of supper."

"No, Haymitch, if I succeed, this can be like ending the Dark Days!"

"Yes it can; and you can be District 13 in the course of doing so."

It seems like Peeta might now know a thing or two more than I would like him to know. But I still exit from the powder room after the mentor is gone, and spot the internally-debating Peeta at the observation patio.

I approach him stealthily, like a leopard ready to pounce upon a prey. If the said Haymitch sees me so, he might have withdrawn the statement about me not hurting him should he resign. At the right distance, judged by my "A+" physics marks, I jump.

And I land just behind him with my arms on his shoulders. A great idea pops right into my mind as his eyes pop open to see me.

"Peeta," I say, not watching him but looking into the distance, "do you know how does being disemboweled feels like?"

I could sense just the type of quake that penetrates his body.

"Marvel…no…"

"Don't worry; Cato won't do it."

"How do you know?"

"Peeta," I explain, conjuring as cheerfully as I could, "disemboweling a person is a job that requires great patience, and I trust that you could tell that Cato isn't a patient person."

"I see."

But I grab the silver ashtray and press the pointy edge at Peeta's slightly exposed abdomen. The clothing on him is two sizes too small.

"Peeta," I say, trying my level best to imitate Cato's threatening ability and Clove's malice, "I will spend my time to teach you the ways of the Careers, all the time that I have; you can ask all the questions you want to ask, and I will answer them, one-by-one, so that you might know that I am a patient person. That much I can promise you; can you promise to lend your gracious leadership to the Careers?"

A combined threat and aid is universally effective against non-Careers. I impose more of my own weight onto him, causing much of his upper body to bend over the balcony. Some more force dislodges him from his balance, making him teetering over the railings, overlooking the tracks. I could tell that he isn't the most enthusiastic about such intimate and expansive contact with another member of his sex, and to be honest, nor am I, with my abdomen &c. pasted against his posterior, so I get myself off him and sit myself on the rattan chair, and he follows suit. A promise made under pressure, called duress, is not enforceable.

"Yes, Marvel."

"Good, and the first principal of this year's Alliance is collective responsibility."