From Panem-

Finnick

Odair

Finnick Odair hated poetry. It was just words, words used to lie to people, to cover up everything that was going on behind closed doors. He figured that if he had to make a façade, it might as well be beautiful. That being said, poetry sucked. Finnick hated having to sit down and write out each stanza, each stanza about love, love to person who would take advantage of him. It was so revolting that the only way he was able to write them was thinking of someone else.

Love was not an easy thing to pursue in Panem. He didn't know it at the time, but the moment he was crowned Victor, his life was no longer his. Finnick's life, words, and body belonged to the highest bidder. It was hard to believe such a thing as love existed when everything seemed fake. Many times, Finnick found himself wondering if love was even real. Was it just a way for people to cope with the pain of existence? Was it merely an exercise in social performance to provide entertainment to others?

He didn't know. As usual, Finnick didn't have any answers to his musings about life and love. All he had were secrets. Dirty secrets. Filthy secrets. Depraved secrets. It was as if the world was series of locks, and Finnick was steadily gathering keys to them. It was a shame the only locks that he cared about were ones that he would never be able to open.

Looking back, it made sense that his outlook of the world had become so grim. He was a child, a literal child when he was forced to have sex with hoards of people who were decades older than him. How could love be real when all that anyone cared about was pleasure and immediate satisfaction. Finnick knew that couldn't be love, but he also had no idea what love actually was. That was the greatest secret, and Finnick couldn't trade anything for it.

Years past, and Finnick found himself drowning in an ocean of bedsheets. Wave after wave crashed into him. There was no release, no reprieve, only the relentless riptide of depravity dragging him into deepest, pitch black trenches where immense pressure threatened to crush him. He would open his mouth to breathe, but there was never any air. His body begged for a gulp of oxygen, but he was granted no such relief. That was the life of Finnick Odair. An ocean of pleasure and pain, of desire and damnation.

Amidst the tidal waves, secrets were whispered in his ear. Before he knew it, Finnick had an arsenal of blackmail, political secrets, and plots. These were all weapons he had at his disposal, but he didn't know exactly where to point them. Rebelling in any form was dangerous. President Snow ruled with an iron fist, and he had eyes everywhere. As some of the Capitolites had told him, part of what made Snow so dangerous was his ability to make power plays with such gutsiness and flare that no one would dare challenge him. Finnick hated all the people he was forced to sleep with, but he didn't hate them enough to sell them out. He didn't have anything worth fighting for anyway.

Then, a girl crept up on him. Annie Cresta, a girl with a beautiful laugh and brilliant smile. That's what Finnick always knew her as. Others referred to her as the girl who went mad, but Finnick knew better. All victors struggled with the trauma of the Games in one way or another, Annie's just happened to be a bit more visible than some of the rest of them.

He still hated poetry, but now the words came easier. All he had to do was think of her, her laugh, her smile, her arms around his waist. The words flowed from him easily, the blockage within his heart starting to crack by the mere presence of Annie Cresta. The Capitol still brought so much pain, but now he had something to truly look forward to back in District 4.

All he wanted was to sit with her on the beach, watching the waves crash upon the shore. Maybe they'd draw a heart in the sand around "F+A." Maybe they'd watch the sunset, holding each other, fighting off the monsters that crawled through their minds. They were stronger together, and they always would be. Now, Finnick had a secret of his own, and it was one that he intended to keep at all costs.

Every time he looked at Annie, his heart would soar. Gradually, he began to unlock one of the greatest secrets. Love. As cliché as it was, Annie was the key to his heart, and the key to discover the truth about love. Was it real? Did it matter? Is it all just some big cosmic joke? Finnick pondered these questions, but one squeeze of Annie's hand was enough to convince him of the truth.

Despite all the horrific things in Panem, there was such a thing as love. It was there, Finnick of sure of it. You just had to look in the right place. It was real, and it had the ability to transcend all. He hadn't even managed to keep his head above water, but with Annie, he felt like he was floating upon the surface of the sea, the sun shining down on his face.

All he wanted to do was be with her, but he was faced with a massive obstacle. Finnick's soul still belonged to someone else, and now it was even more important that it remain that way. Otherwise, Annie's life would be in danger. He couldn't lose her. Without her, he would sink like a stone, never to resurface again.

At the same time though, Finnick and Annie could never truly be together as long as Panem remained the way it was. It seemed impossible. There was no scenario where they were assured victory. Finnick wished that he and Annie could just sail away from District 4, from the Capitol, from the rebellion, from Panem. Maybe then, they'd finally be free.

Life didn't work out that way. It wasn't as blissful as Finnick's poems made it out to be. His love had to remain one of his many secrets. He would have to keep it locked within his heart. Panem was in a state of turbulence, and perhaps it was the opportunity to strike, to release his heart and allow it to freely love for once in his life. Finnick found it funny that of all the things that could lead to his salvation, it was the surprise love story of a pair of star-crossed lovers. It was almost poetic.

Johanna

Mason

Johanna Mason had no one left that she loved. Everything she had ever held dear to her was gone, lost forevermore. They were dead and buried, and Johanna couldn't help but feel that she was one that put them there, the one who dug the graves and filled them with dirt.

Strength was a word that often came up when describing her. Her childhood hadn't been easy, and it was far from the happiest. In such an environment, she learned to be strong, but not just for herself. She needed to be strong for her little sister. Angelica Mason was Johanna's world. She was soft, kind, and fragile, everything that Johanna wasn't. It was impossible to be mad at her, and Johanna never resented her for the easier childhood she had. She was happy to have taken the blunt of the trauma, to protect her sister from the people that were supposed to be their family.

Love was what drove Johanna during those years. She was grizzled and hard-boiled by her experiences, but she still managed to have a soft heart deep within her. It was easy to allow that part of herself to blossom when Angelica was around. She was her everything, and Johanna would take any and all measures to protect her, no matter the cost to herself.

Things came to head one evening, and Johanna took Angelica and fled. There was no reason to stay in such a place any longer. Their aunt welcomed them into her home, understanding the utter pain her sister had inflicted on her children. They now had a safe haven, but Johanna wasn't satisfied. She never backed down, she never gave in, and she did whatever the fuck she wanted.

Many suspected that it was Johanna who killed Veronica Mason, but there was never any evidence to prove it. The Peacekeepers didn't care all much anyway. She was a poor woman who didn't offer anything to the workforce. If anything, it was just one less mouth to feed.

Like the others, Angelica suspected that it was Johanna who killed their mother. Their relationship became strained. Johanna hated to see her sister so distant from her, but she didn't regret her choice. That bitch deserved what she got, point blank and period.

Their aunt was kind, but she was hardly a nurturing woman. She was a worker, and Johanna didn't mind that. Swinging huge axes around was one of her favorite things about living in District 7. That and the smell of the trees of course. Johanna grew quite strong and muscled, and her strength was considered a highly desirable trait for District 7. Many men pursued her, but she turned them all down. She didn't have room in her heart for anyone else. At least, that's what she thought.

Her name was Salvadora, and she hit Johanna like a ton of bricks. Johanna was incredibly steely, abrasive, and rude. Not many people managed to even get close to her without an eyeroll and a snide remark. Salvadora managed to get close. Her dark skin and brown eyes enraptured Johanna, and she was completely under her spell.

Salvadora was just as physically strong and capable as Johanna, but her smile was kind and her voice was gentle and deep. She was a warm breeze, a breeze that thawed Johanna's heart. Romance was something that she thought would never be for her, but this girl…was just stunning. Perhaps she did have room in her heart. Perhaps she could love again.

Johanna didn't smile in happiness for years, so when the feeling sprouted within her, it was quite foreign. She never expected to fall in love in love so fast. For the first time in forever, Johanna found another person worth being with. The company of the trees and her axe were all fine and dandy, but nothing could compare to the touch of Salvadora's skin against her own.

By the time she was 17, she had reconciled with Angelica and completely fallen in love with Salvadora. The two were madly in love, and they planned to marry as soon as they aged out of the Reapings. The prospect of a traditional wedding with the girl that made her heart soar was breathtaking. Johanna couldn't believe she had found this girl. Everything in her life was looking up, and she was so close to feeling at peace. Panem fucking sucked, but Angelica and Salvadora's love made her life worth something.

When Johanna's name was called for the 71st Hunger Games, everything changed. She wasn't a fool, and she wanted to get home more than anything in the world. Johanna had a love worth fighting for, and nothing was going to take that away. The moment her name was called, she formed her strategy. She burst into tears and walked shakily up to the stage. Everyone in District 7 who knew her would be confused, but when the Games really began, they knew what she was doing.

Performance. Oh how the Capitol loved a good performance. So, Johanna decided to give them one of a lifetime. Everything she did leading up to the Games was a façade. She presented herself as weak as she possibly could. Even Blight gave up on mentoring her. After all, she would surely be killed in the bloodbath.

History would not see Johanna Mason die as a bloodbath. As long as there was an axe in the arena, her victory was assured. And sure enough, there was the axe, just waiting to be taken. No one expected her to be so fast. She was in an out with the axe before anyone even knew what happened. A day into the Games, Johanna stopped crying. It was time.

From then on, she killed every single tribute she came across. No one stood a chance. She was remorseless, hardly thinking about the lives she was ending. All she cared about from getting home to Angelica and Salvadora. All these tributes were just obstacles in her way. Not even the Careers were ready for her. She let the remaining members approach her, slowly. They were happy to torture a poor crying girl to death. They had no idea who was making all those cannons go off. It had to be a mutt surely.

It wasn't a mutt. Johanna was declared the Victor shortly, and she was crowned to much fanfare. It was a unique strategy; one the Capitol was infatuated with. Just as Johanna suspected, they enjoyed the art of performance, of false facades. Everything was so superficial, and it didn't even seem like they cared. Johanna thought the lot of them were utterly pathetic.

What Johanna didn't account for was her meeting with President Snow. A few minutes into the conversation, she understood Finnick Odair and why he took so many "lovers." The same thing would not happen her to. She looked Snow in the eye and told him no. No one controlled her. No one.

Johanna would come to regret this decision for the rest of her life. In her arrogance, she had underestimated just how far the President was willing to go. She had just won the Hunger Games, there was nothing that could hurt her or her family. Oh how wrong she was.

Angelica, Salvadora, and her aunt were dead when she returned home from her Victory Tour. She had no idea that the months following her victory would be the last she ever spent with her sister and her betrothed. Her heart was shattered into a million pieces. It broke, and blood poured from the wound. All the love all she gathered in her heart was whisked away in an instant, and it was all her fault.

Everyone who she had ever loved was gone. There was nothing left. All that remained in her heart was cold emptiness. The breeze never came again, and the trees would remain silent forevermore. The only thing she had now was the smell of the trees, but the trees couldn't love her back. They stood silently, unmoving. It was hard to see any love or beauty in the world anymore. Johanna became convinced that none of it was ever real. She cursed Angelica and Salvadora for loving her, for she only had ever brought them suffering. If they hadn't loved her out of the kindness of their hearts, maybe they'd still be alive. They didn't deserve it, and Johanna never deserved them. She figured they were always too good for her, and should consider herself lucky that she was alive.

Johanna didn't even care that she was alive anymore. She was just going through the motions now. The only thing that brought her any semblance of comfort was the shared suffering of the other Victors. It was nice knowing that she wasn't alone, but it didn't really change anything. Everyone she had ever loved was gone, and Johanna didn't have any more love in her heart.

Fascia

Hayes

Fascia Hayes didn't like to think. Thinking made her head spin and travel to the deepest, darkest crevasses of her broken mind. There was too much pain, too much hurt. All she ever wanted to do was to escape that pain, but nothing had ever seemed to work.

She tried to be happy after she won the Hunger Games. She had won after all. She should be happy that 23 other kids died instead of her. Fascia didn't even have to do anything. She didn't raise a weapon, she didn't spill any blood, and she didn't get a single sponsor gift. All she needed to do to survive was do what she always had. Disappear.

Being noticed was something that Fascia never really experienced. She was always the girl in the background, the one that could easily be passed over. There was nothing physically remarkable about her, nothing mentally either. She was nothing. They say the sun shines upon all, but it always seemed to create a pocket of shadow, especially made to let her shrivel in isolation.

Nobody looked at her. Ever. Their eyes would just go right through her, even if she was standing right in front of them, pleading for one meaningful connection, one friend. Fascia found no such consolation. Thus, she let herself dissolve in shadows. She wasn't just a wallflower; she was part of the wall itself. Not even the rain would be able to reach her.

The first time she really felt seen was the day she was reaped for the 56th Hunger Games. Cameras, eyes, and even the sun finally gazed upon her. At first she enjoyed the light, but she quickly learned just how quickly one can get burned. It was pretty easy to write her off as just another dead kid. Even her mentor, Torque, wrote her off, throwing his support behind her district partner who had gotten strong from working in the Yards.

She made no impressions during training, barely spoke during training, and had no allies. She might as well have been invisible. When the gong sounded, Fascia took off running in the opposite direction of the Cornucopia. She wasn't an idiot. Someone of her build would be easy prey for the Career tributes. Her heart would stop the moment she stooped down to grab a backpack.

No, she had a plan. In District 6, Fascia was one of the painters for the various cars, hovercrafts, and trains. It was simple, but she enjoyed the work. It wasn't so bad. During training she didn't touch any weapons, but she did approach the camouflage station. The trainer there was particularly helpful, and Fascia soon saw an opportunity, an opportunity that could offer her salvation. She'd been hiding her entire life, there was no reason to stop now.

20 days. That's how long Fascia Hayes went without speaking. The arena was a dense, muddy forest. There were so many places to hide. Mud meant water, so Fascia did her best to drink what she could. Naturally, her body didn't take it well. It wretched, it ached, it strained, it twisted, it betrayed her.

20 days. That's how long Fascia Hayes went without eating. Finding a source of food was far too dangerous when mysterious mutts roamed the denser parts of the forest, and the Careers prowled at night, sniffing out another kid sink their teeth into. By the time she was lifted out of the arena, she was on the verge of death. A few hours longer, and she'd have died. Lucky for her, the final Career standing couldn't find her. Not even the Gamemakers could really. They tried to start a flood to get finish off wherever she was, but it only carried the giant crocodiles right past her and towards the District 1 boy.

20 days. That's how long Fascia Hayes went without seeing another person. 480 hours and not a single living soul. In order to keep up her hiding spot deep in the mud, it was necessary for her eyes to be completely closed. She lived in darkness for the majority of those 480 hours. Her body begged her to give up, to die, to let its emaciated and poisoned body fully give way to the darkness. It certainly would have been easy to join the darkness. She was used to living in the places where the light couldn't reach her. Perhaps finally, truly becoming one with it was the right move. No one cared about her. No one remembered her.

For some reason though, she stayed. Death's cold hand was working his way towards her heart, but she persisted. Maybe she was too scared to finally die, or maybe she didn't want to give people the satisfaction. To this day, Fascia isn't sure. Those 20 days of utter darkness broke her in a way that she never recovered. The fear, the stress, and physical pain…it was all so much. It was too much. Her crowning had to be delayed for her to even be seen on stage. When the light finally hit her, she didn't want it either. She didn't want the light or the dark. Fascia didn't know what she wanted anymore.

This push and pull threatened to destroy her. She was a mentor now, a mentor with a man who wrote off her as a goner. She should have been angry at him, but she felt nothing, and all she wanted was to feel something. The morphling that she was given during her recovery became a part of her. The bliss of it, the feeling of floating away, it was all what she wanted. It wasn't light or dark…it just was.

What Fascia didn't account for was falling in love. A boy named Xander Hix was offered up from District 6 for the 57th Hunger Games. He was quiet, shy, incredibly kind, but perhaps a little simple. Torque didn't believe in him, but there was something about Xander that fascinated Fascia. She ended up mentoring him and Torque mentored the girl. For the first time in years, District 6 had two mentors.

Xander and Fascia worked very closely together. Just seeing him made her smile. Under the circumstances, a smile wasn't really appropriate. Xander was almost certain to be going to his death, but Fascia didn't want to think about that. She didn't like to think.

Because of her unique path to the crown, Fascia didn't have much advice for Xander. All she had was her paints, so that's what she offered. He worked with the same trainer she did, and she even coached him back in the living quarters. She showed him how to use unorthodox items to hide and create. Their escort and stylist was shocked to see them splattering fruits and berries against the wall and smearing them all over. Laugher was not something that was heard in the Training Center. To any outside lookers, it would have been a disturbing sight. But to Fascia and Xander, it meant everything.

When Xander went into the Games, Fascia cursed herself for getting so attached to her first mentored tribute. Torque drove the point home, berating her stupidity as his tribute was skewered in the Bloodbath. Xander had taken off directly into the surrounding arena, as per Fascia's advice. However, it seemed as though the Capitol wanted to avoid the boring finale of the 56th Games, so the arena was an expansive desert. There were no places to hide, and sheer exposure and lack of water would spell certain death for Fascia's strategy.

Fascia used morphling every day for following 2 weeks of the Games. The stress was too much to bear. Everything she watched brought her back to the darkness, and she felt as if her heart was a void that was pulling all light into it, snuffing it out of existence. Everything she had taught Xander was completely useless. He was going to die from thirst or from the blade of a Career. She didn't have any sponsor money to help him, that poor quiet boy. She loved him so much. Her attachment didn't make a lot of sense to those around her, but he was the first person who really noticed her, the first person who looked at her with a twinkle in his eye.

Somehow, Xander managed to get by. He ran as far as he could and then buried himself in the sand. It didn't really work since he needed to breathe. So, in order to give himself a way to easily poke his head out to breathe and then retreat back, he completely covered himself head to toe in sand. He stripped off the dark parts of his clothes and buried them elsewhere, using the sand to cover his body. It took a lot time and a lot of effort, but he managed to basically make his own series of mini sand dunes. He had a little spot just near the edge of one that he would slide into and stick his mouth out of.

Anyone walking by wouldn't have seen him unless they knew where to look. Water would have been an issue, but luckily it rained 2 days into the games, just as Xander's body was going to give out from thirst. His ingenuity and slight sex appeal actually got him a couple sponsors. Fascia hoarded the money to get him some water or food when he really needed it.

He needed it three days later. She used all of her funds to send him what he so desperately needed. It was almost too late. Xander's heart was on the verge of stopping. He hadn't taken a sip of water since Day 2's rain, and he couldn't even speak out loud with his cracked lips and withered tongue. Xander lapped up the water gratefully, but Fascia was worried. She didn't have the funds to keep sending him water, and it was only a matter of time before the Gamemakers sent mutts after him.

Day 7 yielded some interesting results. The Gamemakers sent giant man-eating worms through the sand to bring the remaining 6 tributes together, but Xander's body was so still, so close to death, that the worms didn't notice him. They finished off the remaining tributes and Xander was declared the victor before the Gamemakers even knew what happened.

What should have been a happy occasion was wrought with fear. The Gamemakers are failed 2 years in a row to bring exciting finales and exciting Victors. It was said that there was a "change in management," but anyone with a brain could guess at what had actually occurred. Pressure was put on Fascia and Xander to be more outgoing. Tributes from D6 had won back-to-back. It was an outcome that no one would have ever expected, and the Capitol was able to focus on the underdog storyline to cover the massive failure.

However, the underdog storyline was dangerous for its potential rebel rhetoric, so it was pitched that Fascia and Xander be presented as lovers. It just so happened that the two of them were actually lovers. Following Xander's recovery, he and Fascia got very close. After he was crowned, they had their first kiss.

Things went well for a while. However, the Capitol continued to push the love story for the following 3 years and Fascia and Xander were just not the type of people that could keep a nation entertained. Their relationship became strained because of the publicity, and Xander turned to morphling just as Fascia had done.

It wasn't long before they were forgotten about. The two of them hoped this would be a good thing, so that their relationship could recover. But, there would always be the constant fear of the Capitol and what it could to them or their potential children. There was never really any possible way they could have lived a peaceful life. All they knew was painting, morphling, painting, morphling. It became their whole lives, their everything. It was the only thing they could do.

In the blink of an eye, years had gone by and Fascia and Xander were still standing, but just barely. Constant morphling use had adversely affected their brains, and they had a hard time thinking cohesively and staying focused. They made for horrible mentors, not helping their kids in any way. District 6 only got one more victor in Magleva, whose magnetic personality and strength got her sponsors and a leg up against the tributes.

Fascia and Xander faded away from the minds of the public, and even in their own minds. Panem was not a world made for love. The two had met, fallen in love, and then had their hearts broken. They remained close, but their romantic spark and desire to be together withered and died. All they had was painting and morphling. The two won their Games in the darkness, and despite finding temporary light in each other, that very same darkness crept back into their hearts and stayed there for the remainder of their days.

Haymitch

Abernathy

Haymitch Abernathy didn't believe in love anymore. Everything had already been taken from him. Maybe he believed in love once, but now that belief had been obliterated around him. He was already reminded how particularly cruel it was that the stench of roses, the supposed symbols of love, would be what ended his love forever.

He knew how the play the game. The moment Haymitch was reaped into the second Quarter Quell, he was ready to play. He knew what moves he had to make, and he knew exactly what moves his opponents would too. Looking back, Haymitch didn't know how much of his confidence was real and how much of it feigned. Putting on a great show meant everything to the Capitol, so exploiting that was the most assured path to victory.

Showmanship, drama, charisma, and story were all key aspects to entertainment. He knew how to keep people entertained. It had always been rather easy for Haymitch to be entertaining. His family always enjoyed his company, and he enjoyed theirs. The memories of his mother and his brother were too painful to think about, but they would seep into his thoughts anyway. The smile of his little brother, the smirk of his mother, the laugh of his girl. All things he would ever see or hear again. They were all gone, up in smoke.

All it took was a little bit of thinking for his life to catch fire. The 50th Hunger Games were not a cake walk. Everything was a threat, everyone was an enemy. Well…there was one person who wasn't, but she was long gone. He didn't know it at the time, but the death of Maysilee Donner was only first of many swords that would pierce his heart. District 12 was often the butt of the joke in Panem, and the two of them had managed to get so far in the Games. He wanted one of them to win, and now she was gone. It was all up to him.

Haymitch thought about the force field a lot. It amused him how it would just spit things back out. Maybe there was some sort of metaphor there, but he didn't really care to dive too much into it. After all, that stupid thing was what ended up costing him everything. He never had any intention be rebellious. He just wanted to go home, back to his family. Considering what followed, Haymitch wished he had let the girl from District 1 just finish him off.

That final moment lingered in his mind a lot. If he had just let himself die, the people he loved would still be alive. Oh how Haymitch wished he was dead. His life was only worth something because of the people in it, and in an effort to save himself, he had gotten them all killed.

Up in smoke. That's what happened to his family's home. It was still unclear exactly the circumstances that led his mother, his brother, and girlfriend to gather under the same roof when the building caught fire, but it was obvious what the intention was. Haymitch wasn't a fool. It was very clearly not an accident. If the deaths were hard enough, something about the sheer obviousness of his punishment rubbed salt in the wound. Anyone with a brain could understand why they were killed, and yet no one said anything.

Fear was a powerful thing, and at this point, Haymitch thought it was far stronger than love. The only thing that rivaled it was hope, and hope was impossible to come by these days. In his pain and guilt, turning to the bottle became the only option. Being conscious with his thoughts, knowing that he was that he was alive and everyone else was dead…it was just too painful. He was thankful that such a thing as alcohol existed, and that he had the money to pay for it. Anything was better than being fully conscious in this empty world.

The Capitol wanted Haymitch to vanish, and he didn't have a problem with that. He turned himself into a worthless washed up drunk. Perhaps it just another performance, but it was too real to be that alone. It was much more than method acting. Soon, the line of who he was and who he wasn't became hazy. Bottle after bottle was emptied, and child after child was sent to their deaths in the Hunger Games. It was a hopeless cycle of pain and suffering. There could be no such thing as real love in this world.

Then out of the blue, sparks appeared. Never in a million years did Haymitch predict what could have happened when Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark were reaped. He saw parts of himself in each of them, and he knew that this was the best chance since himself for a District 12 victory. Haymitch wanted to save them of course, but in a way, he would be saving himself too.

A brilliant love story was concocted and it seemed like it was the perfect tool, the exact thing the Capitol needed to spice up the Games. Add a little story and everyone loses their minds. Haymitch was impressed with Peeta's acting ability, and not so impressed with Katniss's. She was a problem. Her attitude was abysmal, but there was a fire inside her that reminded him of who he once was. Peeta's charisma and natural inclinations to present a charming façade reminded him of his old self too. The acting was too good.

Of course, Haymitch soon came to learn why Peeta's performance was so convincing. It wasn't a performance. Upon the realization that this boy actually loved this girl, he was taken aback. Of all the places, how on earth could real love bloom here? He was confused, so very confused. But as he looked into Peeta's earnest face, he saw himself smiling back at the faces of his Maysilee, his mother, his brother, and his girl. Was this hope? Was this love? It had been so long that he had forgotten what those things were.

It seemed innocent and perfect for the Capitol at the time. He had no idea what Katniss and Peeta's connection would result in. A year later, the Quell twist was too convenient, too perfect. Haymitch had just wanted to bring one of them home, and now a full-scale rebellion was brewing. He didn't care about rebellion before, but now he had seen how powerful hope and love could be. So maybe, just maybe, love was worth fighting for.

-with Love

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! It's officially been a year since I revealed the cast of Black Valentine and wow. Time has really gotten away from me. Thank you to all reviewers and submitters for being here for this story. It means a lot.

I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. It's extremely different from the rest of the intro chapters, but I wanted to do a fun little Valentine's interlude to celebrate the day. I'd love to hear your thoughts on these Victors, I had fun exploring them in my own way for a little bit.

Next chapter we'll be back on schedule with the D6 intros, so look out for that coming soon! I'm hoping that before the next Valentine's day comes around, I'll be just about done with this story. One can only hope!