A/N: Just want to say in regards to the length of this one: from the bottom of my heart... my bad. Turns out I can't summarize 250 pages of a prequel in less than 5000 words. ^^ But please enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Four: Of Maesters and Songbirds and Snakes

I slip quietly into the maester's quarters, fully intent on sneaking up to the ravenry without disturbing Aemon's slumber. Shireen mentioned she'd said goodbye to him, but I figure he's gone back to bed by now. At least, I would if I were him and the ravens weren't hungry. With some success and only a creak or two of the floorboards, I reach the side door that leads to the staircase without any sign of him stirring. Gently pushing open the door, I'm just beginning to climb the steps when a huge yawn fights its way out of me before I can stifle it, and a cheerful voice rings out from above.

"Well, that was a mighty one!" Aemon calls down, making me jump and grip the banister. "It sounded more bear than maiden fair, if you ask me."

Wrinkling my forehead, I hurry up the rest of the steps and find him at the top, mincing meat with the cleaver. "Maester Aemon, you should let me take care of that," I say, coming over and very carefully disarming him. "I thought you were supposed to be on bedrest."

"Nonsense, I'm more awake than you are," he says warmly. "You can't have gotten much sleep, singing to the princess late into the night, only to wake before sunrise so you can say your farewells."

"Well, lesson learned," I say with a little sigh, setting aside the cleaver and picking up the bowl of meat bits. "You have to go to bed with the birds if you want to greet them at dawn."

Aemon smiles. "Now where did you hear that?"

I shrug mindlessly, moving along to the raven pens. "Just something my father and grandmother used to say," I answer, throwing a handful of bits through the bars.

"Sharp minds in District Twelve," Aemon says approvingly, following at a carefree amble.

That sounds like sweet-talk to me. A distraction from the fact that he probably shouldn't be up here. "Flattery won't get you anywhere, except back into bed," I say, setting the bowl down on a wooden ledge and shepherding the maester towards the stairs.

Aemon gives a wheeze of laughter. "I think the fresh air has done me some good," he tries to argue.

I won't hear of it. And not because if he's up there, I can't talk to Beetee like I'd planned. "It's not just fresh air, it's bitter cold," I retort, guiding him down the steps. "If that dragon blood isn't going to keep you warm, then you better stick to blankets."

He's still chuckling at me as I open the door and usher him inside. "Katniss Everdeen, I have lived a hundred years and seen many winters. I'm sure I can withstand a few minutes outside in the cold and survive another day."

"Yeah, well I don't know how you did it," I respond, leading him to his room. "Not a single one of my grandparents made it to sixty-five."

"Not a one?" Maester Aemon repeats. "Why ever not?"

Another diversion. I pick up on it almost immediately. He's like a young child before bedtime, he'd rather hear a scary story or the potentially grisly details of my grandparents' early deaths than go to sleep. I decide to give him what he wants, especially since I'm already killing his fun by hustling him back into bed.

"Well, my father's father, Grandpa Tarragon, he worked in the coal mines like him," I say, pulling back the bedsheets. "Died in a mine accident, just like him. He was forty-eight. My father had just turned seventeen at the time." Maester Aemon lets himself be brought to his bed, and obediently sits down. "I guess if we're going in order, my mother's father was next. Grandpa Comfrey was a healer like you, both my mother's parents worked in an apothecary shop, they were the ones who took care of people. He was killed by a Peac—a soldier, or guard," I correct myself. "Accidentally got in the way when he was trying to help a man who'd been struck down. He was forty-seven. Still lived long enough to meet me, but I was barely three so I don't remember him."

As Aemon settles into bed, I take the liberty of straightening things up and fluffing his pillow. "And your grandmothers?" he asks.

"Grandma Maude, my father's mother, she lived to sixty-three," I say, helping him lay back again. "Which isn't too bad if you were raised in the Seam. All the coal dust everywhere? Gets in your lungs, adds up over the years. She got sick. Towards the end, she couldn't really sing her songs anymore. My father and I promised we'd keep singing them for her." As this memory sneaks to the surface, I feel bad, because I can hear her voice even now, saying, Keep singing your song. And for years, I broke that promise. I essentially stopped when my father did, and his mother's songs almost died with him.

When I look back at Maester Aemon, his own expression has clouded over with something bittersweet, so I clear my throat and continue.

"Last was Grandma Rosemary," I say, taking a seat next to him. "My mother's mother. Now her, I remember best. She was a healer too. But she used to get lots of headaches. Died of a brain bleed not long after she turned fifty-five. That was the official cause of death, but they found her out by the fence near the Meadow in the cold," I add pointedly. She didn't even live around there. It was past our house if she was trying to visit, past Grandma Maude's old house if she was missing her. The merchants' side of Twelve was in the opposite direction. "She must've been wandering confused. Should've stayed safe and sound at home by her fire, would've saved us a whole lot of worry when we went looking for her."

Aemon hums thoughtfully as I get up to tend to his own fire. "Lovely name, Rosemary," he says after a moment. "I don't suppose your sister was named for her… Primrose, wasn't it?"

"Yes," I confirm with a faint smile. "Grandma Maude had already had a hand in naming me Katniss, so it was only fair."

"Many plant and flower names in your family," he notes appreciatively.

"Hunter-gatherers on my father's side of the family. Herbalists and apothecaries on my mother's," I explain, and wander back to his bedside. "My mother, her parents, her grandparents, all healers. Prim too, she was going to be a doctor. Thirteen-year-old girl, and she was studying to be Panem's equivalent of a maester."

Aemon looks pleased. "Impressive," he says. "When I began my own training to become a maester at the Citadel, I myself was only nine years old."

"Nine?" I repeat in disbelief, sitting down again. The ravens have waited this long, they can wait a little longer. Right now, I'm picturing a tiny, white-haired little boy swimming in maester's robes and a chain. Prim was already helping our mother with patients when she was younger than that, but the Citadel sounds much more official.

"Of course, I didn't finish my studies until the age of nineteen," he amends.

"Still," I say, raising my eyebrows even though he can't see it.

Hearing it in my voice, he smiles a little. "And you? Do you have a knack for healing as well?"

"Me…? Oh, no, I don't have much skill there," I say, wincing at the memory of Peeta's misery in the cave. His fever alone was an ordeal; I remember thinking how ironic it was that Prim would've been more useful to him in the arena at that point. "My mother says healers are born, not made… to which I like to point out that her mother was adopted," I add wryly. "But Prim was the natural healer like our mother. I'm more like our father, I guess. I inherited the singing skills in the family."

"Yes, you did," Aemon laughingly agrees, but his chuckle turns into a cough just as I'm reminded of the other reason I brought him back down here.

"I'm going to finish feeding the ravens," I tell him, standing up. "Sam and Gilly should be coming to check on you any minute now. Don't let them catch you out of bed."

With that, I cross the room and make for the side door. I'm just stepping out when I hear his voice call to me again.

"You have a healer's touch, Katniss Everdeen," he says, causing me to turn around. "And a warrior's heart." A knowing smile touches his lips. "It comes with being an older brother or sister."

I match his smile, glad he can't see the twinge of pain in mine when I think of all the family he's lost over the ages. If there's a hereafter, maybe it's selfish, but I'm not ready for him to join them.

"Get some rest, Maester Aemon," I say, and head out into the cold.

After I give the ravens their breakfast, I make sure the coast is clear, then wander to the farthest edge of the rookery. The birds yell and caw here and there, but it's an advantage because it should muffle my words for any eavesdroppers, and not for Beetee, since I'm speaking into a microphone.

I get straight to business when he picks up. "So, Gale just gave me the update. About District Twelve's first victor," I say.

"It's fascinating, isn't it?" says Beetee. "Have you watched any of the footage yet?"

"Haven't gotten the chance," I tell him.

"Well, the projector Gale gave you holds a compilation of basically everything we have so far, or at least what we thought would be relevant to you," Beetee says. "The reaping at District 12. Some footage of their enclosure at the zoo. The bombing of the arena. The interviews. The Games themselves. I'll tell you now, she has quite the voice. Just like you. Must be that Baird blood…"

"Is what Tigris said true?" I cut in. "About her and Snow?"

"It would appear so," Beetee replies. "When you watch the footage, there's no denying they have a certain… chemistry."

"Oh, g—" I cover my mouth, trying not to gag very much, and look to the heavens. Lucy Gray, what did you get yourself into? After taking a few seconds to compose myself, I huff out a slow breath. "But does she think – I mean, are we all thinking that maybe he did something to her?"

"Hard to say," says Beetee. "What do you know about Lucy Gray's disappearance?"

I lean against the cold stone wall, starting to chew on my nails but thinking better of it since I used those fingers to fling raw meat bits. "A few things, especially as of this year," I say. "That at first they thought the mayor killed her, but they couldn't prove it because they never found a body. That the last time my grandma saw her was August 27th, on a Saturday."

"Very specific detail. For a relative you know so little about," Beetee notes.

"If there was one thing Grandma remembered as easily as songs, it was dates of things," I say. "Apparently that was also the last time they all sang together, the five of them. Doing a performance for the Commander's birthday." My father always remembered this too, because his birthday was the 24th and she would start getting sad around that time. He told me he could usually cheer her up by singing his songs. I continue, "Anyway, Gale's mother said her grandfather saw Lucy Gray up at dawn the next morning. Said she was going to see about a goat. Goat man said she never came, so Tam Amber was the last person to see her alive." I pause, then add, "Allegedly."

"Allegedly," Beetee agrees. "Anything else?"

I pick anxiously at my burn scars. "Well, according to Hazelle, the Covey found some supplies missing? And Tam Amber thought it meant she was going north."

"To Thirteen?" he guesses. I make a noncommittal noise in response. "Guess people had a feeling about it even back then."

"Yeah, but the thing is, they wound up finding the supplies but no Lucy Gray," I tell him. "And if Snow left Twelve at the end of August—"

"—then the timeline matches up well enough to suspect guilt," Beetee considers.

I frown, settling against the wall with my arms crossed. Resentment boils inside me as I fume over this new development. Even after he is gone, I'm still discovering more things Snow has taken from me, from District Twelve, from my family. We had a cousin, a singer, a victor, and he erased her from history. And he somehow managed to find out about my kiss with Gale in the woods, but I have no way of knowing for sure that he was involved in…

An idea pops into my head. It's a long shot, but it's all I've got.

"Beetee, do you think it would be possible to find footage of that last performance?" I ask. "Any of their performances that summer, really, but mostly the one on August 27th."

He makes a skeptical, deliberating noise. "Do you think there would be any footage?" he says. "I know the Peacekeepers didn't have much for themselves, let alone cameras. Especially in Twelve, and especially sixty-six years ago."

"Yeah, but it was a Commander's birthday party, and they had live music. Maybe it was a big enough deal. Maybe they wanted it recorded for posterity," I counter. "If Snow was a Peacekeeper back then, and she was performing, maybe there's some sort of clue. Maybe we could see him, I don't know, threaten her or something."

There's a pause, and I can practically feel Beetee ruminating over this. "Who was the Commander?" he asks after a moment. "Do you know the name?"

I search my memories for it. I know Greasy Sae mentioned him. "H… Haas? Hogg?" I try, then snap my fingers, startling a raven or two. "No, Hoff. It was Commander Hoff."

"I'll try to look into it," Beetee says. "I can't make any promises. If there was ever any record of it in District Twelve, it might've been destroyed in the bombs. But Peacekeepers get relocated, and precious things get archived. And the districts being in communication with each other now, well, that's already opened a lot of doors for us. Perhaps the odds will be in our favor."

"And if Paylor makes the 10th Games public knowledge again, to all of Panem, couldn't she put out a request for anyone with more information to come forward?" I ask. "Maybe it'll reach someone."

"Maybe so," he agrees, possibly humoring me. "It was a long time ago, Katniss. We're lucky to have Tigris as an informant. But if there's anything else to be known about the 10th Games or Snow and Lucy Gray, we'll find it. You also have Plutarch and Finnick's collection of Capitol secrets to thank for that."

Plutarch. Of course. Former Head Gamemaker, now Paylor's secretary of communications. Since my trial ended, he's probably been itching for the next big televised event. What better topic to cover than one of Panem's biggest mysteries?

I can see it now. The Hunger Games: The Lost Year. Guess he needed something after I turned down his pitch for a singing program. He would be absolutely beside himself if he found out what I've gotten up to in Westeros in the past three weeks under only Beetee's surveillance.

And speaking of Beetee's surveillance…

"What about the drone, any news on that?" I ask, suddenly remembering he alluded to it last night. "Is it flying nonstop? How far has it gotten?"

"Well, the good thing about our drone is that unlike humans, it can go a steady fifteen miles per hour without pausing to eat or drink," Beetee answers. "But unlike the white walkers, it does need to rest. I've been letting it fly for six to eight hours or so, then recalling it so it can recharge. I released it again this morning, and as we speak, I'd say it's passed over most of the Haunted Forest and is closing in on Storrold's Point."

"So, have you seen anything?" I press, though I'm sure he would've mentioned by now. Maybe he hasn't gone over the latest footage yet.

"Beautiful landscape," he replies. "Quite a bit of forest. No white walkers yet, unless they've been shielded by the trees. I stopped the drone early on the first night to recall it from Craster's Keep, but we're making good time. If all goes well, I should reach Hardhome tomorrow before nightfall. After that, I could turn the drone back around and do another sweep of the area, see if I've missed anything. Perhaps go a bit farther north."

"Feel free. Turns out we won't be leaving for Hardhome for another couple of weeks," I tell him. When Beetee makes a curious sound, I add, "Yeah, apparently in Westeros, 'shortly' means a fortnight."

However, Beetee was actually reacting to the "we" part, so I explain that I will be accompanying Jon to Hardhome. In two weeks, we'll be riding for Eastwatch, and then we'll be on a ship for over a week. Therefore, any requests I have for Beetee need to be made before I depart. Jon already knows about my communication devices, so I could probably get away with a few conversations and updates before we set sail. But I'd rather be safe than sorry around the other Night's Watch brothers who are coming with, and I can't be receiving parachutes in front of them or Jon. Certainly not while I'm on a ship.

No, I will be asking for favors now. And Beetee owes me a few after subjecting me to twenty-four hours of Gale – to his credit, he concedes with a laugh when I tell him this – but the ones I come up with are simple and fair. A supply of hot chocolate mix, for starters, since I will need the cheering up (I'm kicking myself for not asking for it sooner so Shireen could try it, but the extras I'll save for when we see each other again). And spare earpieces, too. Simpler ones, for inter-Westeros communication.

"How many?" Beetee asks.

"Three," I say, after a moment's hesitation.

He gives an "ah" of understanding. "For Shireen, Sam, and Gilly?" he guesses.

"Not Shireen. Gale's with her," I tell him. "He left with Stannis's army this morning. We could keep in touch through him, if you can connect us."

"Of course," Beetee says. "The third one would be for Jon, then."

"Sure," I say, albeit halfheartedly. In reality, the third will probably end up being just an extra, since they'll mainly be necessary in the event that after my Benjen confession I'm asked to leave Castle Black. If it comes to that, I don't think Jon will want to keep in touch with me then.

"I did give Gale the multipurpose earpiece prototype I was working on before we switched to the drone project, so you and Gale should be able to connect to each other," Beetee confirms. "These other sets I have right now, I haven't gotten started on them, so they're customizable. I assume you'd rather they connect just to your main earpiece and not to me?"

"Ideally, to reduce confusion," I say. "But make it so they can connect to each other too. Sam and Gilly would like that."

I hear Beetee typing up notes on his computer. "That shouldn't be a problem," he says. "They'll be a bit more basic than the ones you and Gale have, but I can have them ready for you by tonight or tomorrow, unless you want anything else put in. Trackers and cameras and all that."

"No need," I mutter. "I'm the only one who's going anywhere."

"Good point," Beetee says, and I can tell from his voice that he's still in good spirits. "No matter. I might send another drone south when this one's done. But the footage you've shown me from ground-level is excellent so far. You've done great work here, Katniss. I appreciate it. I look forward to seeing Eastwatch and Hardhome from your angle." He types some more. "Lucy Gray, hot chocolate, earpieces… these are only a pittance. Do you have any other requests before I get to it?"

"Just one more thing," I say. "The Mockingjay suit, if you can find it."

I can just picture him raising his eyebrows above his glasses. "The Mockingjay suit?" he repeats. "I thought you didn't want to be the Mockingjay anymore."

"It's purely for practical reasons," I argue. And it is, mostly. As beautiful as it was, Cinna designed it to be practical. Warm, black, and bulletproof, it comes with layers of protective body armor and a belt for concealing weapons, along with a spare black mockingjay pin. "And it goes well with the Night's Watch uniforms."

"So it does," Beetee says, but it sounds like he knows me better. I have no idea what to expect at Hardhome, and I'm hoping this last gift from Cinna still holds some kind of power to it. Whatever it was that it gave me when I wore it – courage, strength, madness – I may need it again, here in Westeros, when I deal with the wildlings.

No, Cinna's final work of art will not gather dust back in Panem. It was made for me. Mockingjay or not, it belongs with me.

Beetee promises to make some calls and ensure he gets hold of it within the week. Satisfied, I let him go so he can get to work. What with the Lucy Gray research, the earpiece configuring, the drone project, and the suit, there's a lot for him to do, but he seems to be glad for it. I guess I would be too if it meant not being alone with my thoughts, which now threaten to go back to Shireen and Gale. At least Beetee has phone calls and drone footage to distract him…

Remembering the last thing Gale said before he left, I hurry across the rookery and down the steps, passing through the maester's quarters again. Sam and Gilly are in there with Aemon and Little Sam. I return their greetings but let them know I'll meet up with them later. First there is something I have to see.

The projector is exactly where I left it, in my room behind the parachute on my nightstand. I pick it up and sit down on my bed, pressing the on button and then searching through its contents until I find what I'm looking for. 10th Games – Lucy Gray Baird. District Twelve's first victor.

Has Haymitch seen this yet? It feels weird to be watching it in Westeros, and not in the Victor's Village with him or the train with Peeta. Selecting the footage, I preemptively adjust the volume and hit play, then lean back against the headboard with the medallion clutched in my hand.

The recording is a little grainy at first, but it clears up as the anthem plays. That's the first thing I notice – the original version of the anthem, "Gem of Panem." I recognize it from the first nine years' recaps, as well as the eleventh through fifteenth. By the 16th Games, they had it changed to "Horn of Plenty." The Capitol seal dissolves, and President Ravinstill appears in a war uniform, reciting a passage from the Treaty of Treason. Standard stuff, same as the previous years.

But then it goes straight to a stage in front of the Justice Building in District Twelve, where the mayor at the time reaches into one of two burlap sacks and pulls out a slip of paper. And you can tell he hardly even looks at it, not long enough to read the name, before he announces, "The District Twelve girl tribute is Lucy Gray Baird."

The camera finds her quickly. Lucy Gray is the least gray person there, a literal rainbow in a gathering of storm clouds. She's wearing a ruffly rainbow dress and an eye-catching amount of makeup, with wildflowers carefully woven into her dark brown curls. Even I gasp at the sight of her, but my gasp turns into a shocked laugh as the camera shows her dropping something bright green down a redhead's blouse and then heading to the stage without looking back.

The redhead was smirking, but she's not anymore. She completely loses it, shrieking, writhing, and thrashing on the ground. As the mayor runs offstage to help her, yelling his daughter's name, a green snake wriggles free from this Mayfair's dress and darts into the crowd of onlookers.

As soon as a Peacekeeper leads her away, a shadow of vengeance and rage takes over the mayor's face. He storms back up there, where Lucy Gray is waiting, and he strikes her so hard across the face that she falls to her knees. The Peacekeepers nab him before he can deliver another blow, and you can tell by the way he struggles in their arms that he still wants to, so they drag him into the Justice Building, leaving a battered Lucy Gray on the stage.

The camera gets a close-up on her face, where a bruise has begun to form on the right side of her cheek, and it looks like she might cry. But then a high-pitched voice – a child's voice – starts to sing in the crowd.

"You can't take my past,
You can't take my history…"

My ears perk up. Is that a young Grandma Maude Ivory? Even into old age, her voice has always had a signature squeak. And then a different voice chimes in – deeper, older, male.

"You could take my pa,
But his name's a mystery."

Tam Amber, I realize silently. If that line's alluding to his own heritage. Lucy Gray must recognize them too, because she raises her head, smiles, and gets to her feet. Grabbing the microphone, she sings the next line with her whole heart.

"Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping."

She goes on to wow the audience – and the Peacekeepers – with a performance that almost feels rehearsed, and it occurs to me that maybe it was. The mayor that struck her has to be the same mayor who was accused of killing her. There's no way he didn't rig the reaping at least. But she must've known he would, and she came prepared.

"You can't take my charm.
You can't take my humor.
You can't take my wealth,
'Cause it's just a rumor.
Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping."

She's more like a flower than a songbird, blossoming the more she sings, her skirt swishing like petals as she dances across the stage. With her hair pulled up like mine, the sharp angles in her face, and the Baird eyebrows and nose, she resembles a colorful version of me at the reaping for the 74th Games, if I'd had a beauty to match my mother's at that age and enough makeup to make the Capitol blink twice. The one way she looks more like Grandma Maude than me is that her skin is not olive-toned but closer to a soft honey shade, a warm gold like the sun.

"Thinking you're so fine.
Thinking you can have mine.
Thinking you're in control.
Thinking you'll change me, maybe rearrange me.
Think again, if that's your goal,
'Cause . . ."

It's almost unreal, watching this, watching her for the first time, and knowing sixty-six years ago a young Snow was seeing this too. This is the song that drew him to her? This rebellious little number? More likely it was her appearance, except that's unnerving too. Is that why he hated me, because I reminded him of her?

Maybe not, I'm thinking the berries still definitely had something to do with it. And she's a lot more… vivacious than I was in Panem. I certainly didn't have a stage presence like hers before Westeros. Our voices are similar on the lows, husky and rich, but she hits high notes a little easier than I do. Still, there's a playful insolence in the way she comes to the front and leans out over the audience, the way she prances around the Peacekeepers, who are making no effort to stop her. I think some of them are fighting smiles.

"You can't take my sass.
You can't take my talking.
You can kiss my ass
And then keep on walking.
Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping."

I'm so pulled in by the performance that I flinch with her when the doors of the Justice Building crash open. The Peacekeepers chase her to the far end of the stage, but she evades them long enough to finish the song.

"No, sir,
Nothing you can take from me is worth dirt.
Take it, 'cause I'd give it free. It won't hurt.
Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping!"

She actually blows the audience a kiss before the Peacekeepers descend on her. "My friends call me Lucy Gray – I hope you will too!" she says merrily. The Peacekeepers manage to steal the microphone away from her and literally carry her back to the middle of the stage, where she uses her free hand to wave. To the cameras, perhaps, because the crowd is dead silent.

Finally, the mayor is brought back out, placed at a safe distance from Lucy Gray. He announces the name of the District Twelve male tribute, Jessup Diggs, and a strong, sturdy Seam boy comes to the stage looking like he just crawled out of the coal mines. Lucy Gray turns their obligatory handshake into a deep curtsy while drawing him into a bow, and there's a bit of applause and a whoop from one area of the crowd before the reaping broadcast cuts off, though I'm guessing that was the Covey. They do love a good show.

That's when it hits me, why Snow must've liked her. Why Tigris said he was drawn to her from the start. She was an entertainer, the circus in the "Bread and Circuses." She knew how to give them something to watch and someone to root for. Snow must've known that was exactly what the Games needed.

I feel bad fast-forwarding through the reaping in the other districts, but I see the rest of the tributes the next time I see Lucy Gray – in a cage at the zoo. They didn't have the Tribute Center until after this year, but before this they were housed in horse stables. So this is where they kept them for the 10th Games. The monkey house, where they're unceremoniously dumped in through a chute. The crowd of onlookers and the Capitol News logo in the corner of the footage indicate their arrival is still important enough to broadcast, but the kids – many of them close to Prim's age – look dirty and unfed, a far cry from the future tributes who are supposed to be nourished and prettied up for their chariot rides. I'm about to get outraged when I see an older one that stands out from the rest.

Blond curls framing a handsome face, clean clothes – not so clean after the fall – and a short but healthy and athletic physique. A Career, maybe? He looks like he's been fed a lot more recently. The boy straightens up, tries to look taller than he is, and casts an unimpressed look at the cameras. It's no good, especially when a bunch of the tributes corner him and start taunting him, because you can see him start to get flustered. Sweating forehead, wide blue eyes…

And that's when I recognize him. Not a Career, not a tribute, but a Capitol boy.

It's eighteen-year-old Coriolanus Snow.

I muffle a groan of horror with my cloth-wrapped hand, but it quickly turns to laughter as I revel in his humiliation. No wonder this footage was hidden from the light of day. Coriolanus Snow, caged in the monkey house. I hope the Capitol News played it over and over. I hope Plutarch does the same. It'll be the talk of Panem for weeks, and Snow can't do anything about it now that he's dead.

But then he goes over to Lucy Gray, who is seen putting a flower behind her ear. A white rose. Something only Snow could've given to her. He holds out his hand to her as if asking for a dance, and she takes it with a smile. Satisfied, Snow escorts her to the bars, presenting her to their audience and introducing her to the gawking children. And suddenly I understand what Beetee meant by chemistry. They have it, Snow and Lucy Gray, playing off the cameras and each other with a smooth, mutual charm.

She tells a little girl she's friends with snakes, which yes, would explain her spark with Snow. Lucy Gray Baird, songbird and snake-charmer.

I'm subjected to more onscreen flirting between the two of them, but I endure it to get to know her as she wins over children and cameramen alike. Plus I'm hoping to pick up on clues of her fate. She speaks wistfully of the Covey's past as traveling musicians and expresses no sincere attachment to Twelve, so I wonder if there's some truth to the theory that she went north. Then, when the Peacekeepers come to get Snow out of there, she delicately dips her hand to him, and he obliges her by taking it and pressing his lips to her skin.

I shudder on her behalf, remembering how they felt on my cheek when they were altered and puffy. At the same time, a smug sense of pleasure fills me, enough to rewind and watch it again with a smirk. She's already playing the game, holding herself like a queen. Like Selyse but with warmth, so basically Shireen. And Coriolanus Snow, acting the gentleman, from this angle is no more than a respectful Night's Watch brother. Olly, maybe, or a young Thorne.

I'd rather not make the more obvious comparison, though the head of curls is hard to ignore. There's a genuine humility in Jon Snow, but he's not the type to kiss for the cameras.

There's another scene at the zoo. It's at night, but the timestamp says it's the same day, July 6th. A reporter catches Snow and Lucy Gray having a picnic together, separated by the cage's metal bars. Apparently Snow's classmate, Sejanus Plinth, came and handed out sandwiches and other treats to the tributes. A good thing, too, as Lucy Gray confirms they haven't eaten in three days. They don't mention it in the tapes of the first nine Games, but I guess the Capitol didn't feed them or gussy them up back then.

Lucy Gray actively suggests to the reporter that people visit the zoo and feed the tributes so that they'll stand a chance of fighting in the arena, then hints at a love of sweet things as she bites into a plum. I think of the lamb stew with rice and dried plums I helped myself to in the Capitol and the Games and can't help wondering if she's the reason for it.

The camera moves to the other tributes, but you can still see Lucy Gray and Snow conversing through the bars in the background until a voice announces that the zoo's closing in fifteen minutes. I see him slip her a handkerchief and start to walk away. And then she starts singing, filling the night air with a voice that makes all the tributes and visitors stop to listen. Including Snow.

"Down in the valley, valley so low…"

The camera zooms in on her in the corner of the cage as she gives her own rendition of the valley song. Soft and melancholy, like my mother's voice when she first started singing again after my father's death. Like she's truly mourning a lover gone, or nursing a broken heart. I'm sure I didn't sound anything like that when I sang it at the school assembly when I was five. But maybe I did after I lost Peeta.

The scene cuts off shortly after her song, but the next part of the footage is the zoo again a day later. There's a larger crowd this time, and again, the kids and the cameras love Lucy Gray and Snow, reporters filming them as visitors drop by to give her simple offerings – a potato, a soup bone, a can of milk. But then the focus shifts to the other tributes, who are taking a page out of Lucy Gray's book and performing for food.

I spot a few people Snow's age, wearing uniforms like his. Fellow students, probably, which means they're the mentors. One girl is hanging out by the cage and talking to her tribute. Lecturing her, more like, and taunting her with a sandwich as she reaches for it through the bars. The audience laughs. The mentor does it again, waves to the crowd, and takes a bite. Her tribute looks angry. She reaches for something else while she's not looking.

It looks like Snow sees the knife right about the same time that I do. He stands up, but it's too late. The tribute grabs her mentor, pulls her toward the bars, and slits her throat.

There's a lot of blood, a lot of screaming from the audience. Snow backs against the bars, looking horrified and disgusted, but if you rewind and look closer, Lucy Gray says something to him, and you can see on his face when he remembers the cameras. He goes to the girl and lowers her to the ground, yelling for a medic as he tries to stop the bleeding, though even I can tell it's pointless. I'm more stunned by the shot of the Peacekeepers gunning down the female tribute.

Killing tributes before they go into the arena… it's totally unheard of. At least until now.

The tribute's face gets thrown in on top of the footage with a cannon sound, followed by her name and district – Brandy from District 10 – which I suspect is a more recent editing addition. Possibly by Plutarch, to show proper respect for the forgotten tributes.

So much for respect, because the next part of the footage is the funeral for the mentor, Arachne Crane, and after I fast-forward through Snow singing the anthem and President Ravenstill's speech, they dangle Brandy's body from a hook right above the rest of the shackled tributes' heads. Swaying there, it reminds me of the Seneca Crane dummy I hanged. The Capitol dedicates the 10th Games to Arachne, and I feel a sense of irony considering what they do to someone from her own family a few decades later.

The next scene is on the same day, July 9th, mere hours after the funeral footage. It's a shot of the arena, but the mentors are inside with the tributes, so I already know what's going to happen here. I could probably venture a guess even if Gale hadn't told me, since the first nine Games were in this very arena and in a brand new one for the eleventh. This was back when they were held in an actual, massive amphitheater, an oval field surrounded by towering rows of seats that tributes could climb into if they had the upper body strength.

The tour begins, and Lucy Gray is seen walking with Snow – naturally, since he's her mentor. They're whispering to each other, standing so close that I can see her nudge him with her elbow. He grins at her, and she says something that makes him laugh. And the world cannot seem to tolerate their flirting any more than I can, because that's the very moment the arena explodes.

It's not from a hovercraft, not anything from above. Possibly bombs implanted in the ground, like the land mines beneath the metal plates in later arenas. I must be right, because after the initial one at the main gate, there's a chain of explosions throughout the arena. There's a lot of smoke and screams, a brief lull, then a final explosion in the stands. Shrapnel flies. Someone gets their legs blown off. Others use their own to make a break for the exit. Multiple voices are crying for help.

Even through the smoke, I see a figure in a singed rainbow skirt darting away from the blown-open doors, towards a pile of flame and rubble. She struggles to lift a beam, which has got to be scorching hot, and I really have to rewind a few times and pause and zoom in, but I get the briefest glimpse of Snow's blond curls through the rubble and smoke before the cameras cut away and a few more tributes' faces take over the screen with added cannon booms.

So it's true. She saved his life. She could have left him to die, saved Panem sixty-five years of trouble, but she didn't.

I want to be resentful, but I know what a life debt feels like. I know what it means to owe someone. It's the reason I fought for Peeta to survive our Games, and it's probably the reason Snow helped Lucy Gray win hers.

After I fast-forward through another two mentors' funerals depicting heinous treatment of more tribute corpses, the next event is on July 16th, Interview Night. And sure enough, standing in front of a twinkling starry sky projected onto a back curtain, Snow humbly presents Lucy Gray and gives her the stage without taking up much of her time. Her hair is done up like the reaping day style, but instead of wildflowers there's a single pink rosebud that matches the one on Snow's lapel. She holds a beautiful gold guitar, which must be from the Snows' musician friend Gale mentioned. Even her rainbow dress looks much improved, and I don't think the Capitol washed District clothes back then. It appears that Coriolanus Snow has been doing some kissing up.

Lucy Gray introduces herself, then sings a haunting ballad that she wrote. Her voice is still clearly affected by the smoke and fire from the bombing, but it sounds good. A little husky, like mine. Going by the lyrics, she's singing about the one who broke her heart. The lines "We fell on hard times and we lost our bright color" and "We sang for our suppers" suggest it's someone from the Covey. They lived their performer lives together, but he left her, betrayed her somehow, and told her she was "no good." In the song, she seems to admit her wrongs, but reminds her lover what they once meant to each other, and warns him that he may lose her for good when she goes into the arena.

Love and tragedy. Even sixty-some years ago, the Capitol is weak for it. In the audience, many hearts are breaking for her. The hush is so quiet, you can hear people sniffling. Then a man shouts "Bravo" and it's instantly followed by applause. Lucy Gray rises from her seat, takes a bow, and reaches out to Snow. It takes him a moment to come to the front of the stage, and when he does, I pause to get a good look at his face. He is not pleased, not nearly as much as he wants the audience to think he is. I know jealousy when I see it, or at least when I can freeze it in a frame. The song is clearly not about him, and he hates it.

For a fleeting moment, I relish in the fact that someone else in my family was able to infuriate him like this. Of course, then I remember she has less than two months before her existence is wiped from Panem.

After that, there's nothing left to show but the 10th Games themselves. The controversial year erased from history, and I'm sure that I'm about to find out why.

It doesn't take long to realize I'm right. The Capitol, not done punishing the rebels for the bombing of the arena, shows the audience it's not messing around by revealing the beaten body of a tribute hanging from manacled wrists on a crossbeam at the main entrance to the arena. It's the District 2 male tribute that escaped during the chaos.

The Games have only just begun and there aren't enough tributes left for a Bloodbath. They scatter into hiding places. When one girl climbs up with an ax and mercy kills the guy from Two, whose name is revealed to be Marcus, only fourteen tributes are left. It drops to thirteen by sunset when the girl from Eleven coughs up a bunch of blood. Tuberculosis, clearly. They kept their tributes in horrendous conditions in the early Games. Maybe the Capitol started pampering them when they realized tributes dropping like flies before the Games and early on didn't make for exciting viewing. I've already fast-forwarded through so much and it's only the first day.

Except there's some weird stuff that happens at night. I can't make much out, but a figure emerges by the main entrance and goes to Marcus's body. Another eventually joins him, and they try to move it. I don't think they're tributes. Could they be guards, removing the body? They didn't do that back then until the end of the Games. Kids sneaking in, maybe?

It's nothing to do with Lucy Gray, so I speed past it. But in the morning, another tribute has been mysteriously bludgeoned to death. Twelve down, twelve remaining.

Day Two has the Capitol cut away to the student Sejanus Plinth, who announces a monetary award to cover full tuition at the University for whoever's tribute wins the Games. Then the District Five girl gets chased and killed with a trident. Later in the day, another chase ensues. Lucy Gray finally comes flying out of her own hiding spot, pursued by her district partner Jessup, who is foaming at the mouth. He's rabid. Probably picked it up from his stay in the zoo.

People who believe they know a thing or two about medicine love to tell my mother when they hear her name that the alyssum flower can be used to cure rabies. Whether that's true or not, it won't be any help to Lucy Gray here. What's more effective is the drone that flies towards them in the stands bringing a bottle of water. Those afflicted with rabies fear water due to their inability to drink it. The sight of the water agitates Jessup, and he swats at it. More water bottles come in. Jessup flees, tumbles, and falls from a height onto the field. His bones snap loudly on impact.

Lucy Gray climbs down and comforts him as he dies, but that water has saved her life. Gifts from the District Twelve mentors, Snow and Lysistrata. Now, thanks to them, only nine other tributes stand in the way of her victory.

Not much is seen of her on Day Three, so I almost miss quite a bit when I fast-forward. A District Four and Ten alliance successfully kills District Seven's girl but ends in betrayal. The morning of Day Four, the girl from Eight finally appears, skeletally thin and clutching an empty water bottle. Her mentor sends a bunch of drones to her, but she's utterly dazed. She drinks a little water and promptly dies, which strikes me as suspicious, but now we're down to seven.

The real action happens when Head Gamemaker Dr. Gaul makes a surprise announcement. Another mentor has died from injuries sustained from the bombing, so she has a special punishment planned for the rebels' children in the Games. A large drone drops off a container in the arena. Its walls fall, and dozens of bright, colorful snakes go flying in every direction. A swarm overtakes the boy from Three, and dozens more bite the legs of the girl from Four. The two of them die in agony, streaked in pink, yellow, and blue, wounds spitting out pastel-colored pus from the venom that the mutts have pumped into them.

The other tributes flee in time or desperately try to climb the poles, but a horde of snake mutts waits for them at the bottom. Then the arena picks up on a familiar melodic voice, and suddenly Lucy Gray emerges from her tunnel, singing and swaying and slowly walking backwards. Following her are half a dozen snakes, and countless more crawl out while the others in the arena migrate to where she is. None of them are attacking her, they all just seem to be attracted to either her song or her scent.

For it to be her song doesn't make any sense. We have snakes at home in the woods and near the lake in District Twelve, and as musical as my father was, he always watched out for them. They have no external ear so they can't hear very well. But somehow, Lucy Gray has lured them to her, and now she's got them spellbound. They must have smelled something on her that they like. When she sits on a chunk of marble, they crawl onto her skirt, their colors blending perfectly with the rainbow ruffles, and she sings them her siren song of the old therebefore as the cameras close in on her. Lucy Gray the snake-charmer strikes again.

No doubt this scene was a real hit in the Capitol, but the Gamemakers must have hated it. Just as I, the Girl on Fire, was assaulted with fireballs in my first arena, I'm pretty sure the rainbow girl who played with snakes at the reaping was supposed to get taken down by them, not serenade them. It turns the mutts into a joke, a prop for a district girl's performance. But how could she have gotten them to like her, especially when this surprise attack was just announced? They would've needed to recognize her before then, know her scent somehow...

Then I hear Gale's voice in my head. "The final straw was when one of the mentors cheated and smuggled things in the arena..."

Snow. He was around her enough. He must've had something of hers. Being a student at the university, he could've had access to the snake mutts and exposed them to her scent before the Gamemakers sent them in.

No matter how Snow or Lucy Gray managed it, she is now in the final five. And by the morning of Day Five, many dead snakes lie scattered over the arena, drowned by an overnight storm. Now that the tributes can roam freely again, and there are only five of them left, more things start to happen. Teslee from Three hacks the drones being sent to Mizzen from Four; they glitch like they have more food to give him, and the resulting swarm knocks him off the crossbeam to his death. As Teslee hugs her drone in celebration, Treech from Seven leaps from behind her and puts an ax in her head.

Around noon, Lucy Gray reappears and lingers by a rain puddle. She swishes some water from it in her water bottle, then pours it back into the puddle for some reason. At first it's like she's rinsing out the bottle, but she only collects an inch or so for swishing, and she's already drunk straight from the puddle and even washed her face with the rainwater, so what's the point?

I rewind a few times before I get a sense of what she might be doing. Lacing the puddle with something that was already in the bottle. Poison? Where would she have gotten poison?

The answer comes to me just as the gift-bearing drones reach Lucy Gray. Where else? I think to myself. Snow.

She's counting the bodies of the dead tributes that have been gathered, probably figuring out how many it's down to, when she bolts suddenly and Treech jumps out from the barricade to pursue her with his ax. He grabs her by the arm and if I didn't know the outcome I'd think this was the end for her, but right as the ax swings down, she throws herself into his arms and locks him into an odd little embrace, dodging the blade. They hold each other for a moment, until his eyes grow wide and he shoves her away. Dropping the ax, he yanks a bright pink snake from his neck and frantically beats it into the ground before collapsing from the effects of the venom.

After composing herself, Lucy Gray waves to the audience. The Capitol surely loves this, but I'm thrown by how gutsy a move that was. Snow couldn't have told her to do that. This girl is as cunning as the snakes she hides in her pockets.

She has herself a little picnic with the sponsor gifts like she doesn't know she's one of the last two, either that or she's very confident. Snow keeps sending her food, since according to the Games' newscast they're the most popular mentor and tribute pair. With her bounty eaten and stored in her pockets, she relaxes on some rubble for so long that I decide to fast-forward, despite admiring her shamelessness.

Mid-afternoon sees Lucy Gray get up at last, looking a tad impatient. Her lone competitor, Reaper from Eleven, hasn't done much of anything either, so the self-defense strategy is out. She baits him a few times, getting too close to his makeshift morgue and touching the flag pieces he uses to cover the bodies, both things he's immensely protective over. Then she taunts him into a little game of "capture the flag," forcing him to give chase. He recovers the flag after she ditches it to hide in the stands, but he's panting hard. Immediately I recognize the symptoms of heatstroke.

He needs water, I can just hear my mom saying, giving her usual healer commentary during the Games. And then I realize Lucy Gray's gameplan here. Reaper staggers to the one rain puddle, drops down, and gulps as much water as he can. Then he sits back and gets a weird look on his face. Kneading his chest as if in pain, he vomits half the water and keeps retching. My suspicions are confirmed when he trudges to the morgue with the flag and falls down dead with the rest of the bodies.

And there it is. Lucy Gray Baird becomes the first victor of District Twelve, and winner of the 10th Hunger Games.

The host, Lucky Flickerman, announces it as Snow's victory along with Lucy Gray's. But it doesn't matter because no glory was gained for either of them. There was no Victor's Village back then, no fame and wealth for Lucy Gray, and any celebration Snow had must've been short-lived. If I can tell something's fishy about the snakes and the water, so can the Gamemakers. That's why the 10th Games were erased, and that's why they made the esteemed Coriolanus Snow quietly join the Peacekeepers. They probably shipped him off to Twelve before he could say "poison."

But what happened next? What happened between them that August in District Twelve, almost exactly sixty-six years ago, that culminated in her disappearance? Did he pay her back and save her life, only to end up taking it? Was saving him in the arena a mistake after all? Her family did get her back for a month, only to end up losing her again.

All I've learned is that Lucy Gray is a songbird and a snake-charmer, that Snow risked his neck to save her life after she saved his. Or maybe he just cheated to win. But he got sloppy, and he got caught, and they sent him to the districts as a Peacekeeper.

Though obviously his fall from grace was as short-lived as his romance with Lucy Gray, since from what I remember of Finnick's secrets, Snow went on to study military strategy at the University and begin a Gamemaker internship when he was still eighteen. That would've been after the 10th Games, in fall or winter.

So Snow began his rise to power, and the girl who inspired his brief period of trouble in the first place inexplicably went missing around the same time. No, that's not suspicious at all…

I can't help but wonder if he really loved Lucy Gray once. Or do all romances between songbirds and Snows get entangled in a mesh of music and mystery and lies? Moreover, how did their love story end? Did he kill her, did he abandon her for power, did she get murdered by the mayor or her former lover or simply vanish from his life? Sure, Hazelle and Greasy Sae said the Covey found her supplies in the house by the lake, but is it too foolish to hope that she really did go north and find someone better than a snake like Snow? Even if it meant leaving everything behind, something I of all people would understand.

Maybe it's better not to know. On the other hand, maybe I should request that they comb the woods and search the great depths of the lake, or else Lucy Gray's fate is a mystery that I'll go mad trying to solve.

Because if history is repeating itself, if this is the second time a Baird descendant has escaped the Games alive and fallen for a man named Snow, then it appears that with Jon I have reached a whole new level of star-crossed romance.

And I need to find out how doomed we are.

A/N: Again, in regards to the length, I say a whole-hearted "oops." But that's out of the way, and now Katniss knows some stuff. Thanks to all faves, follows, and (re)views!