Author's Note: To all my reviewers, thanks so much for your positive and encouraging feedback! Love you guys! :)

Now, without further ado (whatever "ado" is in the first place, XD)...

"No one will forget me. Not my look, not my name. Katniss. The girl who was on fire." –Katniss Everdeen, The Hunger Games

Damon's outfit was, as Lavinia so effervescently put it, splendiferous.

Now, Vale wasn't quite sure that splendiferous was a real word—but what she was sure about was that the costume her stylist had created was remarkable. She was outfitted from neck to ankles to wrists in pure, black-as-the-night spandex. Most of that spandex, though, was covered up with a different, thicker fabric that she couldn't put a name to, but it really did resemble the surface of polished coal (from far enough away, at any rate). A few tiny sequins, strategically placed, lent the impression that she was sparkling as she stepped into the light. Her hair had been combed out again until it, too, was lustrous and had also been sprinkled lightly with sparkles. And of course, she still wore Maybelle's lucky necklace that glimmered like stars; she clutched it against her chest as she stepped onto the chariot being two coal black horses.

All right, she told herself, trying to steel her nerve. You're a princess. And you're going out to greet your admiring subjects. That's all.

But it was hard to believe. She wasn't a princess, she just looked like one thanks to Damon (who, even now, was putting some finishing touches on her costume). These oddly dressed, almost alien people didn't admire her; they couldn't wait to watch her die in the goriest way possible. And they weren't her subjects. She was the Capitol's.

She glanced absently around at the other tributes as they were loaded onto their own horse-drawn chariots, but her nerves fluttered so furiously that she couldn't seem to keep her focus on any of them just yet.

Kit appeared moments later. The twelve-year-old was quite red-faced, and the cause for this embarrassment was immediately apparent: his stylist had dressed him as—everyone guessed it—a coal miner, with a silly jumpsuit and a big lamp on his head and phony coal dust coating the entirety of his body, save for his face. Vale felt a sharp pang of sympathy for the poor, shamefaced boy as he clambered onto the chariot's platform.

"Oh, Kit…" she began.

"A coal miner. Of course. Go figure." Kit shrugged as if he wasn't bothered, though surely he had to be, especially with Vale's striking apparel. "Oh, well. At least you'll get noticed. And since I'll be standing right next to you and all…"

"If I get sponsors, you get sponsors, too, Kit," Vale assured him. "We're allies, family, remember?"

"Right," he said with a nod.

Lavinia and the stylists offered words of instruction and encouragement for the two District Twelve tributes, but soon enough, the chariots began shooting off into the heart of the Capitol, leaving tire tracks and raucous cheers in their wake.

Now, Vale craned her neck to see the tributes from the other districts as their chariots launched forward. She saw the pair from District One with the ridiculous names—Amber Sheen and Obsidian Citrine—now decked out in gold and jewels like they were royalty; they were followed almost immediately by the sturdy duo from Two in outfits that were apparently meant to resemble stone, then the tiny tributes from Three in outfits adorned with what had to represent computer code, the chosen boy and girl from Four in ocean-themed apparel, and the somber redheaded siblings, Fen and Lark, from Five, dressed in matching clothes that were decorated with patterns reminiscent of electricity.

After them came other tributes: District Six's tributes, both with dark brown hair and eyes, dressed rather scantily as train engineers, the older boy in navy and the younger girl in ruby; two fourteen-year-olds dressed as trees from District Seven (another running joke amongst the districts was that District Seven tributes always donned tree costumes); District Eight's brunette tributes, sixteen and fourteen, draped in multicolored, flowing fabrics; blonde youths from Nine, the boy about thirteen and the girl no less than fifteen, wearing something that called to one's mind images of grain; Ten's somewhat older tributes, the boy seventeen and the girl fifteen, dressed up to resemble a bull and a lamb; and the tributes from District Eleven—a small, bald fourteen-year-old boy, whose dark eyes stayed fixed in one unparticular spot, and a sixteen-year-old girl with braided hair, both with dark, lovely skin—were clad in rather silly outfits that must have been meant to resemble a fruit orchard.

And then, it was Vale and Kit's turn. Their chariot plunged forward into the cool night air of the Capitol, leaving their breath far behind in their wake. A hundred or more cameras were trained on their faces, and as Vale looked up, she saw her wide-eyed, awed expression reflected in the humongous screens broadcasting the tributes' entry to the entire capitol and beyond.

There on the television was that pretty girl again, hair flowing out behind her, blue-gray eyes sparkling along with the jewels at her throat and the sparkles on her costume. She really did look like a piece of brilliantly polished coal. The Capitol citizens cheered and applauded; they waved their hands in the air, trying to catch the attention of the tributes on their chariots. Vale tried to smile at as many of them as she could, though her face was flushed and her stomach fluttering with half-realized embarrassment.

And beside her on the screen was Kit in his coal miner outfit, looking uncomfortable. He offered the roaring crowd, which now was chuckling slightly, a tentative smile. A young Capitol girl of about eleven or twelve, with gold pigtails interwoven with green, blew him a kiss, and his face turned ten shades redder.

The chariot, pulled along at a gallop by the two strong black horses, continued racing down the streets after the preceding eleven. The wind whipped in Vale and Kit's faces, and at times, they had to squint and turn their faces away. (A note was made to slow down the horses in years to come.)

The colorful lights of the Capitol shone brightly on them, and the cameras continued to faithfully track their progress. Sometimes, the screen flickered away from Vale and Kit (to both their small reliefs) to focus on the foregoing tributes. The amber-eyed Amber from One was waving and blowing enthusiastic kisses to the crowd in all her finery, while beside her, Obsidian Citrine's green eyes swept the line of Capitol citizens lining the streets, and he grinned. The siblings Fen and Lark from Five were also staring around at the oddly dressed Capitol citizens with openly curious faces, their fingers nervously intertwined. District Eleven's female tribute, the one Vale's age with the many dark braids, was fidgeting inattentively with the hem of her fruit dress.

And Vale and Kit's chariot pressed on through the circle of the Capitol. Vale felt her hands shaking slightly, and her stomach still quivered with the assault of nervous butterflies. The people continued to stare wonderingly at her as she passed, because Damon had really made her sparkle like diamonds, though she was clad in coal. She reached up absently to allow her tremorous fingers to close around her necklace. It seemed to lend her a fraction of Maybelle's unwavering courage.

For a brief and fleeting minute in time, as the Panem national anthem blasted out from numerous speakers planted all throughout the Capitol, as the chariots made one more brilliant circle around the Capitol before setting off for the Training Center, she wasn't doomed to die in a bloody arena. She wasn't a condemned tribute from poor little District Twelve. She was something beautiful, soaring above the heads of the Capitol. She was alive.

She would never forget this night, full of blazing sight and sound and sensation, this moment when the entire world was fixated on her glittering figure—never forget it for as long as she lived.

"I still remember this moment in the back of my mind, the time we stood with our shaking hands; the crowds and stands went wild. We were the kings and the queens, and they read off our names. The night you danced like you knew our lives would never be the same…" –Taylor Swift, "Long Live"

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it! Next time, Vale reviews the footage of this event... and tries to prepare to go into training. Every chapter brings us closer to the Games...

(Now, I have "Long Live" stuck in my head. Has anyone else made the connection between that song and the Hunger Games before? Or is it just me who sees it?)

May the odds be ever in my favor that I'll continue updating so quickly! XD

~Lily