A/N: Look, I just read this book and I'm still not sure how long this war was. What is math? What is a logical progression of events? I'm gonna do what I want!
To Guest: Thank you for your review, and I'm glad you like protective parent mode. There will be more of it!
To TessiePessie: Rory is still very young, and managed to escape the worst of the Quell thanks to Madge, but there WILL be some trauma for him to deal with when he's suddenly no longer "safe" in 13. There shall be more Mom and Dad Hawthorne, so I'm glad you enjoyed it.
To fangirl: Katniss has new conditions BECAUSE everyone she loves - her family, Peeta, the Hawthornes, and Madge - are with her. She now has much more to lose, but also more of a reason to fight. I don't like Coin either, and I don't think Madge, whose dad was also a "leader" but was still able to show some kindness would be much of a fan.
Unforgettable
Chapter Ten: Built for a Blade
"It wasn't enough," Katniss tells me during Reflection when she comes back. We are supposed to be in our compartments, but instead she has led me to a series of pipes that run between the walls. She brought back things from 12 from her house, the Victor's Village untouched, including Buttercup. She tells me of the nausea, of the overwhelming sense of helplessness, of the single white rose in her house and the message it sends from the worst person in the world. And still that wasn't enough.
"So, you won't be the Mockingjay?"
She sighs tiredly. "I agreed, but for the worst reason." I wait for her to continue and when she looks me in the eye, she seems to have aged a thousand years. "In seven months Prim will be fourteen. She'll be Soldier Primrose Everdeen, and she'll be shipped off with all the others. She can't survive a war, Madge."
Ice flows through my veins as a completely selfish thought invades my mind as well. Rory will be fourteen in six months and then it won't matter what Gale or I say, it won't even matter what he wants. Would it be possible to win a war in under six months? I don't know, there hasn't been a war since the Dark Days, and the books my father kept talked of wars that lasted years, decades.
I hug my knees to my chest and force myself to breathe normally. "You want to protect your sister. Love, Katniss, that's the best reason."
She gives me a small, brittle smile. "I'm glad I can talk to you. The Quell was the worst! I kept waiting for you to die and it was just - I'm not even sure. It was just horrible."
I remember the night before the interviews, the conversation I overheard between her and Peeta. I remember how broken she sounded at our impending doom, at the realization that she may have to do this for her own children one day. I know she would not be pleased by my intrusion on that moment, so I joke, "It was pretty bad for me too."
She chuckles lightly, but still seems unbearably burdened. I have the sudden, desperate wish that no matter what happens, I can survive this war. I don't want to hurt Katniss with my death. I want to be there for her to talk to, to escape to when the men in her life suffocate her with their devotion. I don't want to be the reason she curls up and cries inconsolably like she did that night.
She sneaks something golden into my hands, and explains it is called an ear wrap. It is thin and almost fragile, shaped like a curved arrow with what looks like a bird perched over the fletching. She explains that was the token Effie intended for me to wear into the Quell.
"Did you get your pin back?" I ask, reminded that I had not seen it since I woke up in the hovercraft.
"Yeah, it's part of the Mockingjay image, so I have to keep it. I want you to have this one."
"Good," I say. "Now that I know about my aunt, I feel like it's fate that you wear it." I play with the ear wrap for a moment before slipping it over my right ear. I won't be able to wear it for long, dress code in 13 is mandatory, but I like the weight of it.
"Prim says I can use my celebrity status to ask for some things. I think she just wants me to make sure she can keep Buttercup." There is light humor in her voice, but her words turn serious again. "I think I need to get them to promise to let us go after the war."
"Go? Where would we go?" And who is we?
"We should rebuild District 12. Everybody should be able to go back home."
"Isn't 12 obliterated?"
She shakes her head, "It's bad, yeah, but not impossible. I think with a lot of hard work, we could put it back together again. Maybe even expand beyond the fence."
There's something in her eyes that I have never seen before as she explains her idea, and I think it looks a little like hope.
At dinner, there is a surprise waiting for Katniss.
"Cinna!" The first real smile I have seen in about a year splits her face and she runs into his arms. He is sitting at the Everdeen-Hawthorne table, which is overcrowded now with the addition of the stylist, a grinning Peeta, and a grumpy-looking pale woman with a gray wrap around her obviously bald head that seems familiar.
It's not until she speaks, her thick Capitol accent adding to her haughty tone, that I recognize her. "We've been held hostage here by these savages for weeks!"
"You are not a hostage, Effie, you were rescued."
Effie begins to argue that she didn't want to be rescued, but she is drowned out by my exclamation. "Oh my gosh, Effie!"
She seems as surprised as anybody else when I place my tray of food down so I can hug her. Eventually, she pats my back with a, "Nice to see you too, Madge dear."
"Hello, little spark," Cinna greets me when I let go. I don't try to hug him, which probably seems a bit rude, considering I seem to be in a hugging mood these days, but I can't get past the fact that he was using me as a sacrifice for the rebellion. He is a rebel - it feels like it should be more of a surprise than it is.
I nod my head at him instead, "I'm glad you managed to escape."
That's true, at least.
He nods, understanding that I will probably never be his biggest fan, and turns back to Katniss with a large portfolio full of brand new designs. I hear him say, "I wanted them to let you come to the decision on your own before I approached you with these," as I walk over to my parents. I have no place amongst the top tier stars of the rebellion and I can't in good conscience leave my parents alone.
I keep waiting for my mother to fall into one of her fits, or perhaps a lethargic state, but she seems fine. I consider for a moment that my father is somehow supplying her with morphling but decide it would be impossible. There is no sneaking anything in 13, especially not medicine.
I am halfway through my meal when two bodies sit beside me and I find myself between Rory and Gale. Rory smiles and raises his spoon as if to say 'cheers' before digging into his food. That's normal, we share meals all the time.
The strange thing is Gale. Not only that he is here, something that he never does even when Katniss sits with us, but that he has not put his brother between us. Rory has been a buffer between us, one that I am just as grateful for. It is easier to speak to him when his little brother is there, the constant reminder of the one thing that connects us irrevocably.
He sees me staring and just shrugs, "I was getting tired of all the Capitol talk. Don't really have much to say on the subject."
I nod, feeling similarly on the subject. Gale's a bit more important than I am in the rebellion. He isn't a Victor, but he was introduced as the Mockingjay's close family since the beginning. Add to that Katniss' insistence that he be on her team - "I can't do this without him," she told me of her list of conditions with an almost apologetic look on her face - and suddenly he was A-team material.
"I can't believe so many Capitol folk would turn against Snow," he says apropos of nothing. This is another surprise - he's trying to keep a conversation going between us.
"They're not all bad," I say in recognition of his effort. "When I was in the Capitol it felt like they were all just very. . . removed. To them, the Hunger Games is just an actual game. I don't think it occurs to them that anybody actually suffers from it."
He grimaces, and I know he does not like my opinion, but he just sighs. "So you're saying our lives have been so screwed because we're ruled by a bunch of infants."
I giggle, unable to help it. Was that an actual joke? "Yes, I suppose that's the truth of the matter." A smile tugs at his lips, I'm certain of it, and I try to ignore the little flutter in my stomach because of it. "Some of them are actually good people."
"Like Cinna?"
I look over at the stylist, who seems to be the only person wanting Katniss to use her own will. "Yes, like Cinna, and even Effie has her moments."
He gives me a look that tells me he will never agree with my assessment. "What about Plutarch?"
My smile drops from my face. I don't like the Head Gamemaker, and not just because he was also planning on using my death to fan the flames of his rebellion. I don't understand his motivations. He had everything in the Capitol, his prestige second only to President Snow, and he gave it all up for what? Truth and justice? No, I don't believe that.
"I'm not sure yet."
He nods in agreement with a thoughtful look. The large watch-like thing on his arm starts beeping, and he explains that it is called a communicuff when I ask, that it sends him messages from control whenever they need his assistance or are calling a meeting. Right now, it's sending him to Weapons Development. The place the 'District 3 braincases' are kept.
"Actually, it says you will be called too," he says when I try to say goodbye. "Might as well go together."
Katniss and Peeta join us as we find our way to Boggs who takes us lower than I thought District 13 could possibly go. Beetee's workshop is not what I expect. It looks like a meadow, but has the cool air of an artificial environment. Beetee sits, overseeing everything as my allies, Finnick O'dair, and Johanna Mason all wave around a variety of weapons. Styne and who I assume is Wiress are standing on the sides, picking apart and tweaking mechanical devices whose purposes escape me.
Katniss and Gale are given specialized bows, while Peeta is given a war hammer, of all things. I can't imagine kind Peeta crushing people to death, but I know he certainly has the muscle for it. Beetee calls Johanna and Finnick forward and I hear Boggs begin explaining something about a Star Squad before Calisto distracts me, calling me to stand with him and Anemone.
Styne finally notices me and skips over with a manic smile. He grips my arm tightly and drags me to a table. "I made something for you to use," he explains happily. "Well, you'll be given a rifle to use in battle, but they want something with a little style, you know?"
I nod even though I do not know, I don't know anything at all.
I notice that amongst the wires and bolts strewn about the table, there is only one weapon, a sword in its sheath. I look over to my friends before I can help myself. "Shouldn't I get a bow as well?"
It seems to be the District 12 thing to do.
Styne smiles apologetically, "I thought this would be better." I bristle and he is quick to add, "You're good with a bow, you are! But, I looked over the Quarter Quell footage and your hand always instinctively goes for a blade. I thought this would suit you best."
He hands the sword over to me with a flourish and I am surprised by how light and slim it is. The hilt is curved and ornate, gleaming steel and cool to the touch. When I pull it out, it's not even half the width of any other sword that I've ever seen. Is this a joke?
Styne must see my confusion because he explains, "It's a rapier, you have some muscle but a slight build so a smaller sword would be better. It's made for stabbing, but it can hack and slash if the situation calls for it. And there's something else, I designed it myself! Well, I may have copied a bit off of Beetee, but I'm his apprentice so I should learn, right?"
"What is it?" I interrupt his rambling.
"Say hello."
A beat, "To the sword?"
"Yes, right at the hilt."
I raise the rapier so that it is parallel to my body, the hilt right at my face. Feeling a fool, and somewhat convinced it is a prank, I whisper, "Hello." Suddenly, the sword comes to life in my hands, it vibrates and becomes so heavy I almost drop it. I grasp it with both hands, despite the hilt not being made for a two-handed grip. "What just happened?"
"It's nano-machines!" He explains happily, "When they're dormant, they keep the blade light enough for you to carry along with a rifle and pack. When they're active, they vibrate fast enough that the blade can cut through a rifle, and the weight will help add a little extra 'oomph' to your attacks."
"And they're voice activated?"
"Only your voice though. Just say 'hello' to activate and 'good night' to deactivate."
I quickly say 'good night,' the weight already causing sweat to break out on my brow. Styne apparently has a very high opinion of my strength.
"You'll be trained privately with the rapier," he adds. "For as long as possible, but I doubt it will be long. Your team will be sent out right after the first propos is aired and I hear they're heading out in a few days. Just as soon as they find a safe place to send the Mockingjay."
This is news to me, and again I turn to my friends before I can help it. I wonder if this is the last time I'll see them. No, I can't think like that. I have to believe we'll all come out of this okay. I try to ignore the voice in my head that tells me that's impossible.
Training with the rapier is intense, but I'm surprised by how quickly I pick it up. I learn to be proficient with it faster than I ever could with the bow. I guess Styne was right about that, my body was built for a blade. A fortunate happenstance is that since I now have to build enough muscle to wield the rapier gracefully, my diet is changed to include more carbs.
Training with the rifle is a noisy affair, but I'm good at it. It's not the same as using a bow, but I at least have the aiming part down pat. I can hit seven out of ten moving targets now.
It is during one of these endless hours of training that I am told that the Star Squad has left to District 8 and the time has come for me to prepare to leave. I am being sent to active duty. I'm not ready. These days training didn't feel any different than the Training Center before the Games, it is in no way a replacement for actual martial training.
I can't do this.
Nobody actually cares. I am led to a hangar - is there no end to 13? - filled with hundreds of hovercrafts. I am wearing the dark gray military suit of 13, not that different from the regular jumpsuit, except that this one has the name UNDERSEE written in large block letters. My team awaits me. My team being Calisto, Anemone, two soldiers that have that 13 air about them, and a woman with short-cropped black hair that introduces herself as Sergeant Whitaker and. . . a camera crew?
A woman with magenta corkscrew curls, chocolaty brown skin and slitted, amber eyes smiles as she salutes us, and introduces herself as Juno. "These are Cassius and Justus," she waves at the two men wearing some sort of armor that we are told are cameras. "Our team is a bit smaller than the Star Squad's. Cressida and Messalla will be doing the editing anyway!"
It doesn't seem to matter if we understand a word of what she's saying, we are shuffled onto the hovercraft and it launches without delay.
"Um, Sergeant Whitaker. . . ma'am?" I ask uncertainly. She nods at me to continue. "Where are we going?"
She raises one perfectly trimmed brow. "You weren't informed?"
The two 13 soldiers nod decisively but Anemone and Calisto are just as confused as I am. I can tell by the u that forms between her brows that she is surprised we weren't told, but she is 13 through and through and she quickly dismisses the issue, sure that Coin had her reasons and her reasons must be right.
"We are being sent to aid the rebels and assure the capture of the grain supply," she tells us tersely. "We're going to District 11."
District 11 is larger than District 12 by far. It is also only a few steps up in terms of destruction. We manage to land without trouble, but the minute everyone's feet are on the ground, the hovercraft leaves us behind without a sound. In seconds, a small child, younger even than Stitcher, pops out from behind a bombed out building and leads us through the orchards to a city of tents.
A man, tall and strong of build but with only one hand, greets us with a grimace. I realize in an instant what the problem is. Here they are, sleeping in the dirt and starving. And here we are, with our shiny, new jumpsuits, and our Capitol crew, and the cameras.
"Chaff," he finally says.
"Sergeant Whitaker," she salutes him.
He seems to relax a bit at this show of deference. "Seeder's at the big tent, coming up with the big plans, I'll show you to her."
Seeder is an intense woman with olive skin, and her eyes narrow in on the camera the second we step into the tent. "You're relieved," she tells the people that were already in the tent and they leave immediately. I can tell by the look on their faces and the slump in their shoulders that they are tired and without hope. I doubt our presence will do much to change that.
"What are you people doing in my camp?" She demands icily, "I thought I was rid of the cameras."
Suddenly, I realize why they hate the camera crew so much. They're Victors, they've been in the Games, they've already seen televised deaths far too often.
"I am Sergeant Whitaker, we were sent by 13 to assist you -"
"This is what 13 sends? Is this a joke?" She stops the sergeant in her explanation. "Six soldiers and cameras. Are you sure you're not Capitol trash? Spies for Snow?"
Whitaker seems taken aback by her words. Whether because she thought we would receive a hero's welcome or because she's not used to such passionate words, I'm not sure.
I understand, though. The Quell too recent, the memory too fresh. I don't want people to see me as that monster ever again, but I will become that monster if that's what it takes to get back to my parents. And I hate 13. There! I said it! 12 was flawed, it was miserable, even for the merchant class, but we had freedom of self. Katniss could go into the woods most of her life, I could pick up a useless hobby like music, Peeta could paint. There's no room for any of that in 13, there is only a schedule and purpose.
And then there's Plutarch. I can't trust him, and I can't trust anybody that puts him in charge of a military endeavor.
"I don't like them either," I say, and everyone turns to look at me. Whitaker looks mutinous, but Seeder looks interested in what I have to say, so I continue. "You must be disappointed. You must have thought that 13, this place from a fairy tale, was going to swoop in and solve all your problems. I thought so too, but. . . it's not at all like that."
"Soldier Undersee, I insist you -"
"No, let her finish." Seeder once again interrupts the sergeant.
I wasn't sure what I was going to say, having spoken on impulse, but now I know. "You don't need a foreign army to come in and win your war for you." And in the end, 13 is a foreign power. It hasn't been part of Panem for the past seventy-five years, leaving us to be sacrificed like pigs while they 'rebuilt.' Perhaps it's unfair to expect them to fight when they managed to escape almost unscathed, but from my perspective that makes them an 'other.'
"You've been fighting this war yourselves, and you've been fighting it for seventy-five years. You're going to win this war because you've been strong enough to survive for seventy-five years. We may not be what you expected, but we came here because we believe you're strong enough to win, and I promise you, we will win together."
Actually, we came here because we were forced into a hovercraft practically against our will, but that's much less inspiring. Seeder keeps steady eye contact with me for one second, two, three, and then she blinks.
"As you say."
There's a moment where I feel a heaviness in the air. Not oppressive, but powerful. I feel like I did something very right for once. And then Juno ruins it.
"And cut! That was awesome-sauce!"
Seeder and I both roll our eyes and then share a smile at our reaction. Capitol types.
Training with the rapier became strangely soothing to me. It was the order and the peculiar feeling of power, I suppose, which only grew each time it became easier to follow my teacher's instructions. I doubt I'll ever be able to actually use it in battle, but still I go through my nightly practice in the outskirts of the 11 camp after Seeder explained her plan to us. It was risky and foolhardy and so very Hunger Games that I couldn't help but smile.
That doesn't mean I think we'll actually succeed. Especially since Whitaker volunteered our squad for the most crucial aspect of the plan. I suppose she felt like she had to prove that 13 really was here to help, despite what Seeder and I felt.
"You're her, aren't you?" A small voice asks in the darkness.
I turn to see a girl of about ten, leading a troop of around seven kids of varying ages, a few steps away from me.
I think I know what she's talking about, but I'm still not comfortable being so easily recognizable. I thought I was used to it, everyone in 12 knew the mayor's daughter, but they were all perfectly happy to pretend I didn't exist. Here, though, eyes follow me wherever I go. I was able to mostly ignore it. I did stick out like a sore thumb here, with my golden hair and still too pale skin - not even being sunburned in the arena could give me a healthy tan.
But it's obvious this girl isn't asking if I am the pale girl walking around the camp. "I'm Madge," I skirt around the issue.
The girl doesn't, "You're the one that shattered the arena."
I smile awkwardly, "I wouldn't say I shattered the arena, it was more of a chain reaction."
They don't listen to my explanation. The minute I confirm their suspicions, their eyes light up and they crowd me. I hurriedly tell the rapier good night to make sure I don't accidentally cut anyone and sheath the sword. They're all speaking over each other, asking questions about the Quell, about my score, even about Gale, and they're so excited that they don't even care that I am unable to answer them.
Only the eldest girl, the one that approached me first, keeps her composure and after a few minutes of excited chatter she gets them under control. She takes me by the hand and leads me to a certain section of the camp that I quickly realize is filled with non-combatants. Those too young or old to fight, pregnant women and new mothers, people with missing limbs that had obviously lost them in some long ago atrocity, not in battle.
She leads me to a tent with an aged woman and a tall and muscular younger one. Something in the shape of her face and nose makes me think that she is the spitting image of the matron by her side when she was younger. She is also strangely familiar. I feel like I've seen them both before, but that's impossible.
They welcome me warmly and offer me a watery vegetable soup and a cup of water which I gratefully accept. I have no right to criticize the taste; after weeks in 13 with their strict diets and what I'm sure is artificial meat, it tastes delightful.
"You look uncomfortable in that get up," the girl, Lily, tells me.
I look down at my jumpsuit and frown, "It's not the best, but it's mandatory."
"Mandatory?" The grandmother, Hadley, scoffs. "Who are they to take your will?"
The people keeping my family and me alive. It doesn't seem like an even trade, though, so I only nod and snort in an unladylike manner. I like these women, I like these people. Knowing what I know about 11 from Katniss, to be able to keep their own will after everything was awe inspiring.
It's not until Hadley mutters, "It's like the Mockingjay said, my boy was admirable because he refused to play by nobody's rules but his own and that's what made him great," that I realize where I have seen them before.
The Victory Tour. Thresh! This is Thresh's family, his grandmother and sister. Now I can see the resemblance, and it is so uncanny that I feel ashamed it took me so long to realize it. I feel embarrassed to admit I had no idea who they were, so I only agree that he was a great young man. It's not a terrible lie, he was admirable. Strong and loyal and honorable. Katniss would not have won if he didn't care so much.
Lily suddenly stands, declares that she's going to get me 'all trussed up for battle,' and leads me to another tent. There is a pregnant woman around my height and she happily donates a set of tight black pants and a dark green top, the straps criss-crossing over my shoulders with a print that look like overlapping leaves, that no longer fit her. It is such a colorful, cheerful outfit, but most of the 11 soldiers are wearing similar things, and I realize that it does a better job of blending into the orchards and the fields than a dark gray jumpsuit.
Lily twists my hair into a pair of tight twin braids, which tames my curls better than any other hairstyle I have ever known. The average 11 hair, though as dark as the typical Seam hair, is not as straight, instead being wildly curly just like mine. They do a better job at combing and tying it than anybody short of the prep team in the Capitol. I decide to slip the ear wrap I've been carrying in my pocket every day over my right ear. When they are done giving me a makeover, I feel like I don't stick out like a sore thumb anymore.
The same girl passes by all the tents, announcing that the rebellion is sending a message via the TV network. There is only one TV in the entire camp, and Seeder's big tent is surrounded by a sea of eager faces as they wait for a sign from the Mockingjay.
At first there is only the same Capitol message, condemning the rebellion and promising retribution to those that partake in it. Then there's a glitch, a short burst of static, and then there they are: the Star Squad. There is battle, and death, and fire, and it all seems to be very dire until Katniss takes up the screen and declares "If we burn, you burn with us!"
The mood in the crowd has been quickly charging up with each scene of Capitol destruction and when the propos ends, there is only wild, deafening cheering.
A/N: I like fencing. And by that I mean, I tried it once in an after school thing and never again because I'm poor and that is a rich people sport, but I think it's cool. Rapiers are heavy though, guys, don't let its size fool you. I actually wanted to give Madge a Needle-like sword (Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire) but I couldn't find one single historical instance of such a sword outside of that fandom, so unless Styne happened to read ASoIaF it couldn't happen, so a rapier it was. I still sort of imagine Madge being taught a water dancer type of technique, though, so make of that what you will.
Look, there's lots of things I could complain about regarding the Mockingjay movie, but Effie Trinket replacing the prep team is not one of them! I adore Elizabeth Banks in that role. And Cinna. . . well, that was just a fluke. Since he doesn't have the same connection to Madge that he did with Katniss, and he didn't make the Mockingjay dress, there was no point to beat and imprison him during the Quell, so he could have high-tailed it out of there immediately after the Quell started in this universe. So now he's here! Is he going to make it to the end? Who knows!
I know that in movie canon District 11 residents are dressed in antebellum style clothes, but I felt that was bit too on the nose, and wouldn't lend itself to battle anyway. I think it would be colorful, reflective of their environment, and a natural progression of their culture - all they know is orchards and fields! Why would they have antebellum south couture?
Next chapter is an actual battle! And by that I mean, an actual, gritty, crawl in the mud, WW2 type of battle. Poor Madge is on the front lines, she can't swoop in for the rescue, she's not the hero.
As always, tell me what you liked, didn't like, and what you thought could use improvement!
~ Destiny's Sweet Melody