Chapter Forty-Nine; Prizes

(Seneca's POV)

Seneca watched Stephanie approach him. It didn't take a genius to work out that she was terrified. Or maybe it was because he was a Gamemaker that he was able to read fear from someone's expression so easily, and to evoke it.

She paused where his secretary Selwa had directed her to; barely a metre away from him.

She pointedly fixed her gaze elsewhere as the crew around them worked to make final preparations.

He caught her glance frantically somewhere behind her and when he followed her line of vision he caught the cold, grey gaze of Haymitch glaring at him.

Seneca smirked smugly.

Seeing Haymitch so evidently uncomfortable was a definite plus to his visit.

"I'd recommend relaxing," Seneca said.

Stephanie's head snapped round, her eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a firm line.

"Why are you here for?" she hissed.

Seneca arched an eyebrow at her.

"Weren't you listening Stephanie dear? For some unfathomable reason you missed the interview at the party and now I am going out of my way to rectify that mistake, so that you are not at a disadvantage. You should really show more gratitude," Seneca said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Stephanie clenched her jaw tightly; evidently annoyed.

"You know damn well why I missed the interview," she replied in a measured voice.

Seneca gave a short laugh.

"No matter, I do believe they have some good shots of us dancing," he taunted.

Stephanie immediately averted her gaze though not before he caught the look of absolute fury cross her face.

"We are ready whenever you are," Selwa prompted from the side-lines.

Seneca nodded in acknowledgment and turned to Stephanie with a ready smile.

Stephanie looked tense and pale but her eyes held a determined light, that was also in the way she squared her shoulders and tightened her jaw.

But before the cameras could get rolling, there was an interruption.

Haymitch.

He was by Stephanie's side in a second.

Seneca scowled.

Any other time, with any other tribute, Seneca would have been overjoyed to see how irritated he could make Haymitch.

He would have smirked seeing Haymitch try to reassure his tributes before Seneca could sink his claws into them.

But this time was different.

Stephanie was different.

Seneca didn't like seeing Haymitch's hand brush against Stephanie's knuckles discreetly, or how close they were standing, or how Stephanie looked at Haymitch with absolute trust.

Haymitch mumbled a few words to her that had an instant effect on her. She even managed a small, albeit hesitant smile for him.

It only annoyed Seneca greater.

"Abernathy move," Seneca warned.

Haymitch turned to face him for a moment, Stephanie standing a little behind Haymitch.

And for the briefest of moments the camera crew and everyone else was forgotten.

…

(Haymitch's POV)

Haymitch may not have been able to hear what Seneca had been saying to Stephanie but by her reactions he was able to guess that he was taunting her.

The interview had just been ready to begin when he had moved.

He told himself it was because Stephanie looked like she was about to faint again. However by now Haymitch was an expert on the subject of Stephanie's fainting spells and although she had looked shaky, her stance and eyes told him that she would stand strong.

But in truth the real reason was the look on Seneca's face. Haymitch had seen that expression before.

A smug, predatory look. Seneca had got his prize.

And that was what had made Haymitch move.

Seneca wouldn't have Stephanie.

She had seemed a little surprised when he had appeared at her side, but there was also relief in her eyes.

He did his best to offer her what little signs of comfort he could while under watchful gazes.

"I know you can do this…" The words seemed to be enough as her face brightened and she nodded almost imperceptibly at him.

Haymitch turned immediately when Seneca's cold order had intruded on the moment.

Haymitch moved a little in front of Stephanie, briefly catching Stephanie's worried gaze as he did so.

One look and Haymitch could see that Seneca was furious. The Gamemaker's eyes smouldered darkly and his knuckles were stretched white from the pressure of his clenched fists.

Haymitch may have once felt a small victory over Seneca at seeing him riled for a change. But not now.

Haymitch was keenly aware of the person who stood behind him.

He wanted to punch Seneca, knock the dark gleam from his eyes that always flashed briefly when he met Stephanie. And even more so now that he knew what lengths Seneca had been going to, just to seemingly terrify her. But he didn't.

He may have once done it – to hell with the consequences! He may have been locked up and tortured. But what did he care? What did he have to live for?

But not anymore. Haymitch had something to live for, or rather more particularly – someone.

So when Stephanie grasped his hand tightly and she called him, her voice betraying a little franticness, Haymitch turned away from Seneca.

He looked at Stephanie, "You've got this covered sweetheart, trust me." And then he winked and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, returned to his spot beside Isa and a wide-eyed Frenkin, who was intimidated by the sudden appearance of a Head Gamemaker in their penthouse.

…

(Seneca's POV)

Seneca watched Haymitch walk away from him but not before he caught the look Haymitch exchanged with Stephanie.

Seneca had never felt so infuriated in all his life and another feeling that sickened him to the core.

Powerless.

The only other time Seneca had felt that was when Lark had died, and yet here and now, he had been made to feel it again.

And why was it he felt so powerless? He was Head Gamemaker and the President's son. He should never have to feel powerless.

He could have Haymitch killed right there and then and Stephanie with him, and he would face little repercussions for his actions.

And yet no matter what he did, he couldn't stop …it. He wouldn't be able to destroy what had been silently passed between Haymitch and Stephanie when they had looked at one another. He couldn't stop them loving one another.

Nor could he stop his own feelings.

Seneca had no real reason to come here today, and doing so posed a risk.

He had heard the general rumours going about of how he had a mystery woman, and also there were whispers of his obsession with District 3. Luckily for him however, the majority suspected that he was involved again with Ficen, the District 3 female stylist.

If it was generally known that the Head Gamemaker favoured one tribute above the rest, the entire games would need to be scrapped and restarted with new tributes etcetera.

A humiliation that his father would not bear. One that could also be dangerous politically for his father.

The jittery attitude of the crew around him testified that even they were not comfortable with this rather peculiar behaviour.

But Seneca couldn't stop this anymore than he could stop the blood flowing in his veins.

Stop this…urge, pull towards Stephanie Trindlesworth.

At first she had intrigued him. He was bored of the conventional and from their unusual first meeting she had presented something different. Then he had grown to admire her for her strong words and fiery temper, even though it was obvious that she was still afraid.

He had felt something he had never felt with someone before. For the years Ficen had followed him faithfully Ficen would take as much delight if not more, watching as Seneca would see that Haymitch's tributes were brutally killed. But the hatred never left Seneca no matter how many of Haymitch's tributes he killed.

Stephanie had been the first one to make him face the cruel truth. It wasn't Haymitch he hated, but his own father.

She was attractive. It was usually the case with many District tributes. They weren't dressed up or modified artificially to look like some ridiculous clown as many of the Capitol women were. She had those strange coloured eyes. Probably the result of some chemical exposure in her genetics, he thought distractedly. And she had a brilliant smile. Not a false, Capitol smile always ready for the cameras. But a genuine, loving smile. Not that she has ever directed it on me, Seneca thought bitterly with an inward, rueful smirk.

And yes, admittedly, part of the attraction to her had been because Haymitch had evidently some connection with her. And it was another way to break Haymitch even further.

But without Seneca even realising it, Haymitch had gradually become less and less of the reason, and Stephanie herself, became enough of a reason to make him take risks such as at the boutique and the photo-shoot.

Seneca started slightly as he came to the conclusion that he actually…cared for Stephanie in some form or way?

And when he turned to look at her she was waiting for him; arms folded defensively across her torso, eyes narrowed in determination and chin tilted defiantly.

However his anger this time wasn't tinged with the slight amusement that it would have been usually, seeing her stubborn stance when he could see perfectly well how terrified she was of him. Rather, this time, something akin to embittered dejection sniped at him as he recalled how she had looked at Haymitch so very differently to how she looked at him…

Seneca shook it off abruptly and turned to Stephanie with a dazzlingly smile.

"Shall we begin?" he asked charmingly.

Stephanie's lips twitched slightly as she forced herself into a more casual stance.

And Seneca's smile widened. Because Seneca wasn't one to give up so easily.

He always got what he wanted.

And what he wanted now was Stephanie Trindlesworth.