Chapter 35: Choose Dishonor, Have War
I stare, mouth agape, at the entrancing beauty standing before me. My goddaughter looks immaculate in a wedding dress that not even most Merchant families could afford to purchase.
My amazement at how stunning Katniss looks is overshadowed, however, by the rage I feel. She has to wear this at the interview? Her bridal gown is to be her likely burial shroud?
"Cinna, what is this?!" I demand. Antonia was always criticized for providing the bare minimum. Here, Cinna has created a macabre contrast with my best friend's baby girl as the flashpoint.
To his credit, Cinna appears apologetic. "President Snow insisted."
Of course. I should have known Cinna wouldn't dream of something this insensitive, even at his most creative. I gawk at him. "This was the President's call? But I thought he made it clear there wasn't to be a wedding!"
"I had already made some designs before that executive order was handed down, remember? The President asked me if I had preserved any of them, and I said Yes. He didn't leave me much of a choice." The stylist now appears truly sheepish.
My rage ebbs, and I sigh. "Of…. of course, it's not your fault," I smile at him.
Katniss lifts up her skirts and swishes them around in the mirror before her, frowning heavily. Gosh, even with a displeased expression on her face, she looks beautiful. "It seems a bit…. heavy, doesn't it, Auntie?"
"I had to make some alterations due to the lighting. You can't have purples and blues darken out the white. But does anyone on the tech crew listen to me? No…" Cinna grumbles.
"Cinna… can you give us a minute?" I ask.
"Absolutely, Miss Donner. I need to find a seat anyway." Squeezing Katniss's hand, he leaves.
My goddaughter and I are now left alone backstage at the Capitol Recital Hall. The interviews have already started; on a closed-circuit TV above our heads, Caesar Flickerman is beginning his opening spiel.
Katniss appears a little shy, lifting her eyes to mine. The loud colors of the spotlights obscure the blush that is surely staining her cheeks. "Do I look all right?"
"Were it not for the context, I'd say you were the prettiest bride in all of Panem," I declare, voice tumbling at the end to prevent it from cracking.
"I feel…." Katniss worries her bottom lip. "Entitled. Wearing this. Do all women wear dresses like this?"
"In the Capitol, I suppose." I rest a hand on her shoulder. "Back home, to most Merchant families like mine, a woman's wedding dress is a family heirloom. It's something that a mother passes down to her daughters. My mother bestowed her wedding dress on my sister, and then me after her, when I married your godfather."
"Did…. did Mother wear a white dress like this? When she Toasted the bread with Daddy?"
I smile with melancholy. "Sadly, no. Your mom and your daddy had to elope, so they wore their Reaping finest to get married in. Belle didn't have time to steal her family's wedding dress."
Katniss blinks. "Steal it?"
"Your parents' wedding was very hurried and very stressful, Katniss. Scary might be another word I would use." At the stricken look on her face, I try to smile at her easily. "I'll tell you about it sometime." I promise her this even though, if my goddaughter has her way, I'll likely never get the chance.
Caesar has now launched into interviewing the Victor-tributes themselves. Gloss and Cashmere Delacroix have taken the unusual step of being interviewed together; I suppose it's a good strategy, if they want to sell themselves as a unit to sponsors. Caesar seems quite concerned with how emotional Cashmere has become.
"I'm sorry…." she apologizes, hiccupping. "I just can't stop crying."
"Neither can I," Caesar squeaks. "You've become everyone's brother and sister. I don't know how we're going to let you go!"
Gloss steps in to save his twin. "We're not going by choice. You are our family. I don't see how anyone could love us better."
As I hurry towards the house to take my seat, I observe the people around me. Many of them are sobbing just as hard as Cashmere is; a few are even keening, letting out agonized wails. I didn't think the Capitol citizens would be that upset about losing their Victors, and yet they have been, going all the way back to our arrival on the train.
And there's something else…. something that clicks as Gloss and Cashmere arrive backstage; the latter's face cooling into pure venom as she passes.
I double back, hurrying into Katniss's dressing room where Flavius and Octavia are making last-minute adjustments.
"I forgot to get a hug," I use as my excuse. As soon as my goddaughter melts into my arms, I tighten my hold on her and hiss in her ear:
"These Victors are angry, Katty. They'll say or do anything to try and stop the Games. I suggest you do the same. Pass the message onto Peeta; I trust he'll know what to do." I draw back and adjust her veil, smiling.
Katniss nods, and I finally vacate backstage to find a seat in the audience. By the time I get there, Caesar is already yuk-yukking with Brutus.
"You have been out of the arena since before the last Quell. You're a fine specimen, Mr. Barsetti, but your district was ready to send in Lupus Pagano – what made you decide to volunteer?"
Brutus chuckles. "Ah, hell, Caesar, I'm just a simple District 2 boy. I've enjoyed living it up here in the Capitol – wine, women and all that. But, I'll tell you something – the night before the Reaping, I had a dream."
"A dream?" Caesar presses.
"A dream?" I frown with skepticism.
"A dream?" Many in the crowd are whispering.
"A dream," Brutus insists. "My poor tribute from last year, Cato, came to me and told me to avenge his death. That's what I'm gonna do. The Mellark boy is mine! He's the first one I cut!" The audience gasps in shock, which quickly turns into cheers. I pale, whimpering, and when Brutus marches offstage, I can see his eyes are right on me. I stare him down as best I can.
Enobaria spends most of her interview dragging out a bit with Caesar in which she shows off her fangs and pretends to rip out his throat, like she did her final opponent in her last Games. There are way too many mentions of vampires, at least for my tastes.
"Beetee: you have contributed so much to Panem over the years. I don't know who we're going to miss more – you or your brain." Everyone hoots like seals at Caesar's joke.
Beetee fiddles with his glasses. "The Quarter Quell was written into law by men, surely it can be… unwritten."
Caesar blinks rather rapidly at Beetee's answer, which is completely unrelated to the question he was asking. His smile broadens, looking pinched and pained. "Yes… interesting concept."
Wiress is up next, but her aphasia is a drag on the proceeding, with Caesar having to throw out words to effectively participate in this game of Finish That Sentence. A hot mic sends Beetee's voice out from the wings, where he is also trying to help.
"Going back on the….." Wiress frowns through a really long pause.
"Pedestals!" Beetee calls from somewhere stage left. The audience chuckles tightly.
"… Pedestals. Scary," Wiress chirps.
"I'm sure it will be," Caesar concurs clumsily.
The audience cheers and screams in relief when Finnick swaggers on stage. He takes off a cape at the nape of his neck and casually tosses it into the audience. It lands a few feet away from me, and no less than fifteen Capitol women try and get their hands on it until it partially rips in two.
"Now, Finnick, I understand that you have a message… for somebody out there – a special somebody…. can we hear it?"
Finnick takes the microphone and begins to speak with the utmost seriousness and passion. It's like he's slow-jamming the news, only ten times more erotic. "My love: you have my heart… for all eternity. And if I die in that arena….. my last thought will be of your lips."
THUMP. A massive shudder goes through the studio audience, and I cast my eyes about, frowning. Even in the darkness, I can see that roughly a hundred people around me (both women and men) have fainted because they're so certain Finnick is talking to them. But I know better. He's talking to Annie, who is now shaking like a leaf as she is brought out onstage. Finnick doesn't look at her as he passes her, off in the opposite direction, but I could swear I see a drive-by hand squeeze between the two of them.
"Annie! My, my, my, we do love our female Victors, don't we, folks? And Annie is still gorgeous! About as gorgeous as Cecelia and Johanna and Katniss! Annie: how does it feel to know that you will be going back into the arena?"
Caesar, you idiot. That was the wrong question to ask. It immediately sets Annie off, and she begins to cry and scream hysterically.
"Can't go back….. can't go back! We'll all perish in flames! Run, run for your lives before the gong goes off! Ah-huh…. Ah-huh…." Her sobs are almost hacking at this point; from where I am seated, Finnick is trying to fight past guards to get to her. A couple Peacekeepers have to rush onstage and end the interview early, literally carrying Annie from the hall.
Annie's disaster is the signal for all the other interviews to go from bad to worse. The next few are a who's-who seminar in substance abuse. A teetering Matthias Fletcher manages to say nothing beyond, "Bring down Everdeen! If we don't, we'll die…." And then throws up over everyone in the front row. Circe Montoya refuses to come out at all; the only thing we can hear is her voice, telling Caesar she can't come out because she's hiding.
"Oh! This is hide and seek, is it?" And the host makes his best attempt at finding her, which quickly turns into a dry-land rendition of Marco Polo, only this time the words are: "Circe!... Montoya!... Circe! Montoya!" for three minutes straight.
Neither Mitt Compton nor Maeve Collins can utter much of anything during their time in the spotlight – speaking of which, Maeve doesn't even deign to look in Caesar's direction, finding the spotlights above her head much more interesting. "Such….. pretty colors….."
"We've all seen a lot of tears tonight. But I see no tears in Johanna's eyes, oh no – Johanna, you are angry. Tell me why."
Johanna lets out a little, bitter laugh. "Well, hell yes, I'm angry! You know, I'm getting totally screwed over here. I was told if I won the Hunger Games, I'd live the rest of my life in peace. But now…. you want to kill me again. Well, BLEEP that! And BLEEP anyone who had any BLEEP thing to do BLEEPING do with it!" (I don't need to guess to know what curses Johanna is throwing out there, but I wish I could tell her that BLEEPs tend to elicit the opposite of her desired reaction; most of the Capitol audience is laughing at the edited-out sound bites; instead of feeling the discomfort she wants them to feel). At the very least, Caesar appears uncomfortable, quickly ushering her off with, "OK, one woman's opinion…. Who's next?"
It's Blight, and he breaks down in tears halfway through. Cecelia talks of nothing but her three little kids, causing many Capitol mothers in the audience to cry out, procure little Polaroids of their babies from their purses, and wave them in the air.
Woof wanders off the stage in the middle of his interview, and doesn't come back.
Nolan de Naro's three minutes are wasted by him deadlifting barbells. He is one of those throwbacks who is just here for another Games – as is Roan Tully, who spends his three minutes showing off his Victor talent: breakdancing.
Even with the lapdogs sprinkled in here and there, the spirit of rebellion seems to be building, however! By the time we get to District 11, questions are being raised about whether or not something can be done about the situation. Seeder says that in Eleven, President Snow is viewed as omnipotent. Well, if he's omnipotent, why doesn't he change the Quell? Chaff is right on her heels, saying that Snow could change the Quell if he wanted to, but that he must figure it doesn't matter much.
By the time, my goddaughter is up, the audience is at the end of its rope. People have been weeping and collapsing and calling for change. The sight of Katniss in a bridal gown practically causes a riot.
"Katniss! Katniss…" Caesar calls for calm. "I think we're all a little disappointed – more than a little disappointed - that a certain wedding… did not take place. Am I right?"
"President Snow thought everyone would like to see how I would look in a wedding dress. Isn't it just… the most beautiful thing?" And she quite suddenly begins to twirl.
Like both years at the parade, the very cloth that covers her begins to catch fire, although once again she doesn't burn up. The smoke is rising, Katniss is spinning faster and faster, and the smoke obscures her for a moment so that she looks like a pillar of fire. When the toxins dissipate, the white bridal dress is gone. In its place is a fiercely dark dress.
And then Katniss lifts her arms, spreading her wings.
Literally spreading her wings. The audience leaps to its feet.
Caesar is frozen on the stage, reaching out a finger to touch the wings. "It's… it's like a bird! It has feathers!" He is spluttering, lost for words.
"Like a mockingjay," Katniss states proudly.
An awkward pause, and I just know that Caesar knows what the mockingjay has come to mean. Just as I have come to understand what it means. It's more than just the pin my sister gave me, and I passed down to my goddaughter. The image I thought I saw in Plutarch's pocketwatch. It has become the symbol of the rebellion roiling Panem at this very moment.
"…. Well, hats off to your stylist!" Caesar recovers. "Cinna, take a bow!"
Cinna rises and grants everyone a dramatic bow.
Then the buzzer is sounding, and Peeta is replacing Katniss, giving her a hug as they pass each other. On risers behind Caesar and my son, the other Victors are gathering in chairs, ready for the closing of the ceremony.
"Now, Peeta:" Caesar's voice is low. "A wedding. A marriage – never to be….? The President ordered that you and Katniss not get married."
"And initially, Katniss and I agreed we were too young for that. But… we got married. In secret. After the Quell announcement." Gasps of surprise go up, and I sit a little straighter in my seat. This may not be what Peeta and I rehearsed, but I trust him. He's a damn fine actor; knows just how to play the audience.
"A secret wedding? Do tell! Starting with, uh…. how?"
"Well, Caesar, remember what I said last year about Twelve having interesting superstitions? See, there's this thing we do…" And Peeta briefly describes the Toasting.
"Were your families there?"
"Our mothers would never have approved, Mrs. Everdeen in particular. Katniss's mother can be very old-fashioned. We didn't tell anyone. Because…. we want our love to be eternal. And I wouldn't have any regrets at all if…." He falters. "If it weren't…."
"What? If it weren't for what?"
"…. If it weren't for the baby."
Gasps of horror go up. My jaw drops. You clever son of a….. well, you're mine, and I certainly shouldn't be calling myself a bitch.
"What?"
"Baby?"
"Stop the Games! Stop the motherfucking Games!"
Caesar is desperately trying to make peace where none can be found as Peeta hikes up to the risers and embraces his lover. I know they've been sleeping together, but I know damn well my son would at least have the good sense to use protection. If this was any other context, I would be thrilled at the knowledge that I would be becoming a grandmother.
Instead, Peeta has used the unborn to light the fuse on a bomb the Victors have been building all night, in one last-ditch effort to save all their lives.
And then the most amazing thing happens.
The Victors start joining hands. Up and down the line, they clasp palms (and in Elena Perez's case, grasping onto Chaff's stump where his right hand should be and holding fast). The anthem is blaring through the floorboards, Caesar is screeching to make himself heard ("This is news! This is news to all of us!"). The technicians frantically cut the lights, plunging the Recital Hall into darkness and shriller screams split the air, but too late:
All of Panem has seen the Victors holding their hands aloft in one, unbroken chain.
I hang back as I watch Peeta and Katniss quietly holding each other, as they morosely stare down at the bedlam still occurring in the streets far below.
"There's no way they'll cancel. They can't." Katniss murmurs.
Looking at each other, Effie and I step forward. "Though I am still far too young to be a grandmother…." (Katniss laughs tearfully) "…. The baby bomb was a stroke of genius. Unfortunately, the Games are still on. This is….. goodbye…. For now."
Effie is wiping at her eyes, but manages to smile weakly as she holds out some boxes. "Presents." She passes one to Peeta, the other to me.
I turn it over in my hands. "What's this…..? Effie, you didn't have to get us anything…"
"I thought to myself: Katniss has her mockingjay pin. I have my hair," Effie indicates her gold curls. I open the little box. There is a piece of jewelry inside. "Gold bangle for you, and for Peeta…. the medallion that we talked about."
Peeta nods solemnly. "Thank you, Effie."
"Yeah, thanks…." I mumble, slipping the bangle on. "But…. what is it for?"
"For unity!" Effie stresses. "Show them we are a team. They can't just…" Her voice cracks, and Katniss calms her by taking her hand.
"Thank you," my goddaughter expresses sincerely.
Peeta steps forward and looks me in the eyes. "No matter where I go…. You will always be my mother."
It is the pebble that causes the rockslide. Bursting into tears, weeping, I sob, "And you will always be in my heart!" We embrace tightly; Katniss has to gently nudge him aside to get her own hug in.
"Remember our deal," she hisses along my earlobe. "Do whatever it takes to keep him alive." She holds my eyes. "Promise me."
I nod. I desperately want to tell her about Plutarch's plan, but all I can think to say is, "Katty… I love you."
She nods. "I know."
Through the crack in the door, I observe Katniss and Peeta sleeping together. They are both clothed, thankfully, holding each other tightly. Sadly, I close the door behind me, steal across the living quarters of the penthouse suite, and enter the elevator. I take it down to the fourth floor.
I find Halibut Shore and Mags Flanagan both still up, watching the dizzying news coverage of the fallout from the interviews. The entire Capitol is under curfew and the re-airing of the interviews has been cancelled.
"Hey, guys. I know it's late, but I need to speak to Finnick."
Halibut just points down the hall. "Annie's room. It's marked." I nod my thanks and follow his directions. Rapping on the door of Annie Cresta's room, I call out sotto voce, "Finnick? I want a word!"
For a minute, nothing happens. Then the door opens just a crack, and a bleary-eyed Finnick appears.
"Oh. Hey, Mama Maysilee."
From somewhere in the darkness behind him, I hear a sweet voice call out, "Finnick? Don't go…"
"Mama Maysilee is here, baby; I just need to speak with her for a minute. I'll be right out in the hall," Finnick assures his lover. Stealing into the hallway, he softly closes the door behind him. "What's up?"
Thinking quickly, I take off the golden bangle Effie just gave me. "I want you to have this. Katniss saw me wearing it, so she'll recognize it, if you show it to her."
Finnick's eyes narrow. "Is this about the alliance contract you completed and sent back this morning?"
"Yes," I stress. "Both Peeta and Katniss have said they don't want allies. Well, mostly Katniss; she won't listen to me. And Peeta thinks she can do no wrong, which means he also won't listen to me." I sigh heavily. "I know you're going to have enough on your plate, keeping Annie alive, but…"
"I know. I know what you're asking me to do. I'll do it."
"My kids are capable of handling themselves…"
"I know they are."
"They just need some protection…"
"And they shall have it. I know the Careers are gunning for them both, and I won't let them within twenty miles of Annie – especially not Brutus. He's a prick." Finnick rubs the back of his neck. "She's scared, Mama Maysilee. If you can give me assurances that your kids will help her, I promise to help them."
"Peeta will be great with Annie. And Katniss has a soft spot, once you get to know her. She won't harm Annie."
"Then that's good enough for me." His sea-green eyes search my face. "So…. allies?"
I nod, jaw hard and resolute. "Allies."
