Song Suggestion: Bea Miller- "Young Blood"

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A Phoenix Rising

The train pulled up to the Capitol city. Neon colors greeted them, worn by both the buildings and people. Confetti sprayed in the air, and the multitudes screamed in excitement when they caught a glimpse of Gale and Prim in the window.

"Show the people what they want," Brutus grumbled.

In response, Gale pulled Prim into a side hug and gave her cheek a kiss. His lips brushed across her skin, bringing the tiny nerves in her face to life. They both smiled, and it worked. The crowd outside, already thrumming in excitement, burst into afrenzied feeding at their action.

Brutus had coached them in this. Division between district members was the quickest way to death. A fellow tribute could be the greatest ally in the coming games, especially since there was no point in trying to distance her emotions from Gale. Brutus agreed the best angle was to show the capitol that, not only would they work together, but they were friends.

The trip from District 12 to the Capitol had been a dream, floating to one activity to another. It felt so peaceful, just the two of them again. It occurred to Prim that she never needed the woods for the seclusion and serenity. All she needed was Gale.

The end of the train ride came too soon. Prim wished she could stretch time on a string, so she could pull it along with her instead of leave it behind.

The doors opened, exposing them to the crowd.

"Remember what we talked about," Brutus once again whispered, already turning into her subconscious.

"Be demure," Prim answered, "They want someone to love. Any knowledge I possess about survival must be repressed and be a surprise to the audience."

"Exactly," Brutus said, "And you boy? Did you retain anything of importance during our tactical discussions?"

Gale nodded, but didn't respond out loud. Prim had no idea what they talked about. Brutus met with them separately. Prim tried not to show how annoying it was that she shared her side, but he refused to show his.

"Good, then here we go. Hold onto your hats. It's going to be a fast ride."

Ten Minutes Later

The guards in white suits led Gale and her into separate rooms. Prim knew it should be done, but it still hurt to see him walk away. When Prim stumbled through the door she was shown, she was swarmed by a rainbow of familiar bodies. They squealed for a few minutes.

"We were hoping we'd get you," said a man.

Prim finally got a good look at the trio who tried to strangle her and was surprised to see the three attendants who got her ready to see President Snow.

"Oh, look here," Bunny said as she held up her hand, "It has only been three days, and you've already ruined your nails."

That comment started a firestorm of hisses and groans and admonishments as they took stock into all the work they would have to do to reach perfection.

"Don't worry, hunny, we'll find the diamond hidden under all that dirt."

"At least we'll try," the man with blue skin named Horace muttered under his breath.

Four Hours Later

Prim sat on the edge of a gurney, clenching the cold metal sides so tight her knuckles turned white. She wore a thin paper shift that did nothing to block the air conditioning to freeze the rest of her body. It left her exposed and vulnerable. Her teeth clattered in both cold and anticipation.

She was waiting for her stylist, and she wasn't sure what to expect.

After several minutes, the door opened and in walked a man with dark hair and dark skin dressed in a deep blue suit. The only element that showed his origins were his eyes. They were lined with sparkling red. On anyone else they'd be terrifying, but no matter what this person did, his kind brown eyes could never be demonic.

"Hello Cinna," Prim released a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

The man smiled back at her, "I'm surprised and glad that you already know my name, since I already know so much about you."

Of course she knew who he was. After Katniss' epic entrance, he became one of the most sought after designers in all of Panem. The very act of him walking through her door meant that he had chosen her. Out of all the victors, and he picked her. She wondered why.

"Nothing bad, I hope."

"No," Cinna shook his head, "The capitol will see you as it wants, but they can't change my view."

"And what's that?" Prim asked. It was refreshing to talk to someone as if the world was normal again. Cinna had a way of making a person feel at ease.

He tilted his head a little, studying her for a moment.

"You are much like your sister. She was very brave."

"I'm not brave."

"No, you may not be. Not in the same way," he agreed, "But you have a resilience that is surprising. You have survived tragedy... many if rumors are to be true."

Prim attempted to control her expressions. As much as she appreciated his opinion, she also didn't think it held any true merit or compliment. A survivor was sometimes just another word for a victim, and there was something insulting about the assessment.

Cinna seemed to grasp her sudden depression because he came toward her and lifted her chin gently so he could stare into her eyes.

"However, unlike your sister, not only have you survived, but you managed to maintain your gentle spirit. And that, my dear, is one in a million. Tonight," he said with a small smile, "I will raise you from the ashes, and the whole world will see you shine."

Prim shifted uncomfortable, clutching the side of their golden chariot. Her fingers entwined with the white, lush flowers adorning the edges. She brought them back sharply when one of them stuck to a thorn on a rose. The tip of her finger welled with blood. Prim brought it to her mouth to suck on it.

Up ahead of her was the chariot for 11. They wore bright yellow costumes that resembled wheat. The tops stuck up high, blocking her view of the front as they swayed back and forth.

She had yet to see Cato in the line up, nor did she feel ready to. His chariot was farther up than hers, blocking his image from view.

"Are you sure I don't look too stupid?" Prim asked Gale again. This must have been the fourth time in the past three minutes she asked the same question, but she couldn't help it. Not that she cared too much for appearances, but it didn't take many brain cells to see how hideous her outfit was.

She turned her head to see Gale rolling his eyes.

"For the last time, if you look stupid than so do I. We're in it together" he said. After a moment he added, "Not that it really matters, but I think Cinna finally lost his mojo."

He looked down at his outfit, which was a match for hers. He wore a tight fitting black suit that didn't leave much to the imagination. Over it, the stylists smeared an even coat of coal dust. It stuck to every inch of their skin, reminding Prim of the men stepping out of the mines after a day on the job, coughing and trying to brush off the black suit on their skin, but only spreading it instead.

He was right: district 12 would be what it always had been... the brunt of cruel jokes and tasteless costumes.

"Hey, at least we aren't the only ones who look miserable. Did you see District 7?"

The only thing covering the girls breasts were a pair of giant leaves. She was a previous victor named Brekka, who only won because she hid in the treetops most of the game, bouncing from limb to limb to escape danger. The boy, however, was a trembling fourteen-year-old, skinny, and still too young to fill out his costume.

They both looked at District 7 at the same time. Prim tried to hide a smile, but Gale didn't attempt to hide his snort of amusement. Only Gale would find something funny at a time like this.

Five minutes Later

The music started and with it her heart began to thud in her chest. It was time to face her fate. The front chariots entered the arena. Prim tried to weave her head around to watch, but she was not close enough yet to the screens, nor was she tall enough to see around the other waiting tributes.

After a few minutes, her chariot jolted forward. It jiggled as they walked, and she felt the gravel roll by under the wheels. Gale steadied her by placing a hand over hers and holding it against the sturdy sides of their ride.

The clamor of the crowd rocked her when she entered. Nothing could have prepared her for the level of noise. It could deafen a person. Prim took a breath and reminded herself of Brutus's training.

Smile.

This she was familiar with. She had enough practice in the last six months to last a lifetime. Her lips rose so wide she showed all her teeth.

The crowd responded with even more noise.

An image on the screen distracted her, and when she looked up, it took all her will power to keep her smile on and act as if she meant it.

Cato stared back at her from the screen. She wanted to recoil from the horrifying sight he presented.

His skin looked as if it was made of pure stone, grey and rough. Blood seeped from the cracks. It looked real, and it dripped from his body as his chariot traveled down the lane. His face was carved from stone, ignoring the crowd, almost hostile towards the screaming fans. Theodora stood beside him almost unrecognizable under the grey and crimson, except for her bright smile she flashed around.

She had to remind herself to breathe again.

Wave

She raised a hand and waved towards the crowd. Several fans tried to lurch out of their seats toward her. A barrier held them back, but it didn't stop the torrent of flowers that arced into the air, landing just short of the carriage, creating a carpet of red and white.

"Look at us," Gale whispered in her ear.

Prim's gaze went to the large televisions, only to find herself staring back. She was surprised at how calm she looked, though her heart gave leaps and her stomach flipped into knots. Her fingers trembled, only soothed when Gale gripped her hand tight, holding it just high enough for the crowds to see. It was part of what Brutus told them to do. He wanted Panem to see them as a united front.

As soon as their hands went into the air, the coal on their skin began to shed.

"What the fuck?" Gale said, staring at his hand as if it was magic.

The coal lifted and trailed off. Underneath, her skin sparkled red. Prim's head snapped back up and looked at the screen. The transformation happened all over her entire body. Big clouds of coal dust blew behind them, as if smoke from a fire. Underneath a pattern was slowly revealed. Swirls of red and orange made up her dress and Gale's bodysuit, and her skin transitioned from red to orange to yellow as she moved. She resembled a flickering flame. Even her hair turned the colors of fire, glittering under the light.

"You're beautiful, Prim," Gale said, staring at her in awe.

Beautiful wasn't the right world. More like ethereal, something godlike. The stylists did magic.

"He wanted to rise us from the ashes... he made us into a phoenix," Prim whispered, remembering discussions of the mythical bird in her ancient history class. Nothing seemed more appropriate; after all, both Gale and she had risen from their respective graves: him from death, and her from grief.

"Just in time to die again," Gale said with a derisive snort. "I hope I have the powers to regenerate a second time."

Prim didn't find the comment funny. Nothing could be more horrifying.

Before she could say anything back, the chariot lurched to a stop. The horses snorted and pawed the ground, making a sharp click against the cement.

"It's time for the plan," Gale said.

Time? Plan? Prim looked around in confusion. All Brutus told her was to smile and wave and hold Gale's hand. There was something missing.

"What-"

Gale bent down and stole her words with a kiss. His lips pressed hard into her own, softening just a moment before she wrenched herself backwards, pressing her fingers to her lips.

"Kiss me again," Gale said.

"What?"

"Just do it."

Without letting her back out of it, Gale gripped the back of her neck and gave another powerful kiss. It had been everything she wanted at one point. She dreamed of this moment for years, imagining all the scenarios. None of them were like this, though. Fire didn't sear to her toes, her skin didn't tingle, her breath stayed in her lungs. It was warm and soft and sweet, like sitting in front of a fire on a cold day.

It felt like a friend.

Distantly, she heard the continued roar of the crowd, impossibly louder than before. The stands thumped with feet, and a chant echoed into her bones. She felt the vibrations of energy across her body.

Gale released her, staring at her as if he saw something different than he did before. In that exact moment several things happened. First, Prim had a sudden and jolting realization:

She loved Cato. He wasn't sitting in front of a fire, he wasn't cozy. He was the fire. He burned her as he touched, leaving singed skin behind. As much as it was painful, it was necessary. It made her feel alive. By God, alive enough to fly.

At the moment of her realization, however, her eyes sought out and locked with the man her thoughts gravitated towards.

The scowl he gave back made her want to wilt into the background. Piercing blue eyes glared at her. One hand clutched a fake sword, dripping with blood. He moved his arm, muscles contracting. Blood made splattering patterns around his body.

He didn't look happy or relieved to see her again. He looked ready to destroy her. Any moment he would burst from the confines of his chariot and rip her apart.

"Welcome," President's Snows voice boomed over the speaker, "Welcome, tributes, we salute your courage and sacrifice."

Cato wrinkled his face into a final sneer before unlocking eyes with her and staring up at the screen, as they were supposed to. Prim clutched the railing of the chariot and Gale's hand tighter and did the same.

The world vanished when she looked up. The only thing left in existence was the stage, the speaker, and the little girl sitting beside him. President Snow continued to talk, but she no longer heard him. He became a buzzing insect in her head, drowning out the chaos of her surroundings.

Coral sat next to President Snow. She kicked her feet in free air because her legs were too short to touch the ground. She was in a white dress with her hands in her lap. She looked down at her fingers as she twiddled them, and she did not look up, not even to see her father. Persephone was nowhere in sight.

After, Snow thanked the tributes once again for their sacrifice. Just as Snow ended his speech, he glanced at Cato, meeting his eyes, and smirked just once. Then he sat down and placed his arm around Coral's shoulder, pulling her closer. She doubted anyone would catch it, but Prim did.

The message was clear: there would be no rebellion, not on Cato's part and not on hers. Snow held the only cards that mattered, and they had no other option but to play the game to his contentment.