Hey (; I've been reading your hayffie stories for one and half years, but I have never prompted something before. But after today's prompt, I have to: In my head, Haymitch only calls Effie Euphemia whenever something major is up. Like when he wants her to be serious and tells her something in confidence. He's not really aware that he does that, but whenever Effie hears her given name she immediately knows something bad is happening. Maybe you find this interesting enough to write.

Soldier Euphemia

Command has become a hub of activity ever since the rebellion advanced on the Capitol. All the screens in the room are displaying real-time footage of the war's progress through cameras fixed on soldier's helmets, tablets are passed around so everyone can access the latest reports, maps of Panem are pinned to the walls, the last Capitol resistance pockets in the Districts circled in bright colors, the holo of the Capitol takes up most of the huge briefing table, a miniature city made out of light spreading right in front of them… People are always coming and going, calling out to each other… Haymitch himself is constantly pulled in different directions, asked to consult on a tactical problem for a squad or dragged back to the Capitol's battle planning by Plutarch…

Only Coin is steadfast in the surrounding chaos and while Haymitch is loathed to admit it, he's a little impressed by the general she turns out to be. He's almost a hundred percent sure she won't make a good President but there's no denying she has what it takes to bring Snow down. So he's content to offer his opinion when she asks for it but respects her own when she disagrees – she has a tactician's mind too.

At least until she calls him and Plutarch to the corner of the room that is unofficially hers – Command in Command, as the soldiers joke – one evening.

"I'm assigning Peeta Mellark to Squad 451." she declares in a bored tone, not even looking up from the report she's reading. "He's leaving tonight."

Plutarch is as stunned as he is – because while they've been aware the relations between Katniss and Coin have been steadily getting worse, they both thought they had some time before they needed to worry about it. It doesn't take long for anger to take roots though. He's been forced to send not one but two of his kids to war – because Finnick counts, dammit – he'll be damned if he has to send Peeta too. Not even that but her reasons for doing so are so plain that…

"I beg your pardon?" Effie hisses before he can say anything.

It's strangely scary how adapt she's become at creeping around unnoticed. Effie Trinket has always been flamboyant, impossible to miss, bigger than herself… But ever since they've arrived in Thirteen… They've drained her colors away, forced her into that shell of herself, made her… Not less because she could never be less but… Thirteen dimmed her. He's had his hand in it, of course, he ordered her to keep a low profile. He may have secured her safety but it was a tenuous deal and there is little he could actually do if Coin suddenly decides she doesn't want to honor their agreement.

"Sweetheart." he warns. He's the one who has to deal with this because he isn't in danger of being thrown in a cell or executed for his past sins.

Coin's milky grey gaze darting up to fix itself on her is enough to make Haymitch's heart race in his chest. He likes it better when the president's attention isn't on his escort. He's too aware of how reluctant Coin was to allow her into Thirteen. It's taken a lot of negotiating on Plutarch's part and a quite a few threatening conversations on his.

"Is there a problem, Soldier Trinket?" the president asks with that same touch of disdain she always puts in her voice every time she has to address Effie.

And, of course, Effie hates being labeled soldier so he's not exactly surprised when she juts her chin higher, her lips pursing in a thin line. "Yes, there is as a matter of fact. Peeta is still recovering and…"

"When I want some advices on haircuts and manicure, I will ask for it." Coin cuts her off. "In the meantime, go back to your duties and don't comment on military decisions."

"Some advices on haircuts and manicure would not be amiss indeed." she deadpans. "But I do agree there is a more urgent matter at hand, namely my victor."

"Effie." Haymitch snaps, nervously licking his lips. Coin is glaring now and Effie is looking at her in the very same way she always looks at women who she deems inferior in every aspect. It reduces more than one to tears. Coin, of course, doesn't flinch but it's perhaps worse.

"Peeta Mellark is not your victor, he is a soldier like any other citizen in Thirteen. " the president retorts. "And he is needed on the battlefield."

"Perhaps we could discuss it…" Plutarch suggests after clearing his throat.

"There is nothing to discuss." Effie scoffs. "Peeta is not going. Do you think us fools? Do you truly believe we do not know why you wish to send him?"

Haymitch grabs her arm and squeezes it tight. "Effie."

He knows why Coin wants to send Peeta, of course he knows. She's hoping he will kill Katniss or that she will get herself killed or any variation ending up with the girl dead. And it enrages him and he wants to strangle Coin himself for it…

But that doesn't mean he would be stupid enough to actually accuse her of it to her face in a room full of her men.

"My decision is final." the president snaps.

"He will leave this District over my dead body." Effie snarls right back.

And this time Haymitch does panic because there is a spark in Coin's eyes that tells him it wouldn't be unwelcomed.

"Euphemia." he growls, tugging her closer to his side. Her full name shocks her enough that she finally snaps out of it and looks at him, eyes wide. He doesn't think he's ever used it before, he doesn't even call her Effie that often when it comes down to it. Their eyes meet and if his are a little frightened, hers are pained and determined. "Shut up."

"Get her out of my sight." Coin orders disdainfully. "In fact, take a break and go make sure Mellark's ready to leave."

He looks at Plutarch who gives him a discreet nod, silently promising he's going to try and change her mind, so he drags Effie away, ignoring her protests and her attempts to free herself from his deadly grip. He doesn't acknowledge her or let go until they're alone in the elevator.

"What the fuck are you playing at?" he spits out. "What happened to keeping a low profile?"

"What am I playing at ?" she repeats incredulously. "Why didn't you say something? You just stood there and let her send our victor to…" She stops, passes a hand on her face… She looks so tired without the make-up. "If he ends up hurting Katniss… If they both end up…"

"Yeah." he scowls. "But getting in her face ain't the way to go about it."

"Oh, certainly it was more efficient to just stay silent." she snorts.

"Wouldn't have had to stay silent if you hadn't gone and opened your big mouth." he sneers. "I don't want you talking to her. What's so complicated to get about that? She hates your guts."

"I do not care." she huffs. "I will protect my victors. I suggest you do the same." She looks him up and down, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. "And do not use my real name again, Haymitch. There is a reason I do not go by it." The doors open and she steps out, barely tossing him a glance over her shoulder. "Now let's go and try to sort this mess."

He follows her. What else can he do?

He hates it when she's so bossy.

He hates it when she's right.