I am sure you must be swamped with hayffie prompts but I've been rereading some of them and I was wondering, could you make a continuation to the 76th Hunger Games? the one in which Effie is part of and what happened after it was finished. Thank you.

The prompt refers to chapter 179 in which a 76th Hunger Games took place and Effie was sent back in the arena. I think this one can stand alone though.

The Last Victor

In Haymitch's experience, the Games clinic was always silent except for the low buzzing of machines. It reminded him so much of the hospital in Thirteen that he was starting to feel claustrophobic – not that anything would have convinced him to leave Effie's bedside. He was seeing a pattern there : she lying in a bed and he waiting at her bedside for her to wake up.

Her wounds were superficial but it still took hours before she started to stir.

"Hey, Princess." he said quietly when her eyes fluttered open.

"Haymitch." she breathed out.

"You were expecting Prince Charming?" he scoffed, covering her hand with his. He wouldn't have admitted it aloud but he was terrified she would disappear again.

"I had the worst dream…" she murmured, closing her eyes again. "I was in the Games. I was…"

"It wasn't a dream." he cut her off. "You won."

Her blue eyes fell on him, slightly unfocused. He wasn't sure she was all awake yet.

"How?" she asked with a frown.

"Luck." he snorted. "Pure sheer luck. You don't remember?"

"There was a storm…" she whispered.

"The stamp overflowed." he explained "It killed almost everyone but you and that Gamemaker… Good job sticking to that cliff, sweetheart."

"Artis." she supplied, closing her eyes tight. "He came at me with an axe and then…"

"Lighting struck him." he finished. "You were caught in the shockwave, it knocked you out. It killed him. Like I said, luck."

She stared at him for a few seconds. "Who did you bribe?"

He chuckled but it was hollow. "Does it matter?"

For a moment, he thought she was going to insist – he wasn't keen on explaining the sort of deals he had made – but then her lips started wobbling and he barely had time to leave the chair to sit on the edge of her bed before she was crying ugly sobs that shook her whole body. He held her tight against his chest, pressing kisses to the side of her head.

"It's okay." he mumbled against her hair. "It's over. You won. It's over." It was a lie, of course. It wasn't over. It never was when you had once put a foot in an arena. There would be constant anxiety and bigger nightmares than what her time in prison had already left her with. There would be brooding and failed attempts to adjust back to a life where everyone didn't want to kill her. There would be bad days and there would be endless resentment on her part but he would take it all because it meant she was still alive. "I'm taking you home." he promised. "You, me and the kids. We're going home."

She didn't ask where home was. She didn't need to.

Not only did victors stick together but she would always have a home with them.