As always sorry about the wait. A quadruple update to hopefully go some way to making up for it :D
Chapter One-Hundred-and-Fifty-Nine; Attraction
Stephanie stalked from the bathroom, her expression grim.
As soon as she exited, her sights landed on the scene of an irate Isa tearing into a stoic Haymitch. Even Frenkin was looking up at the red-faced Isa in a sort of terrified awe.
Stephanie suspected Isa was on a rampage about Electra and demanding Haymitch do something about the blue-haired woman. But Stephanie barely felt a flicker of interest towards the scene.
In fact…for the first time, Stephanie wished fervently that she could avoid Haymitch. And not just Haymitch, but Frenkin, Electra…all of them. She knew intrinsically that she wouldn't be able to find the familiar comfort being in Haymitch's presence usually gave her. And not even Frenkin's omniscient blue eyes could soothe her this time.
Swiftly Stephanie turned in the opposite direction, slipping through the crowds as her own words moments earlier rang in her head.
See what…his feelings or yours? Electra had asked her, challenged her almost.
Both, she had answered. The one syllable had eroded away more of her pride and self-respect than anything else that had happened that night.
To discover and admit she had feelings for Seneca Crane!
"Stephanie?"
Stephanie swivelled wide-eyed at the call of her name.
When she saw Tain's blue eyes, Stephanie barely resisted sprinting in the opposite direction. The last thing she needed now was to endure another bout of accusation throwing and suspicious glances.
Stephanie made to apologise hastily and get away as fast as she could.
Tain, recognising how Stephanie was already angling her body away from his, reached out to clasp her wrist.
"No, Stephanie – wait," he pleaded lowly.
Stephanie paused then, when she saw that Tain's eyes weren't filled with the cold discernment they were the first time on the walkway.
Stephanie looked to the white-blond haired boy expectantly.
"Erm…" Tain began uncomfortably. "How are you feeling?"
Stephanie shrugged jerkily. "Fine," she answered quickly.
"I saw your interview," Tain blurted out.
Stephanie arched a brow in puzzlement.
"With King," Tain elaborated and Stephanie's face paled with the memory of it. Tain looked to her sympathetically, and Stephanie vaguely recalled that Tain had also been interviewed by the harrowing Gamemaker.
Stephanie offered him a weak, grim smirk. "I hear King has a particular type. So maybe we should feel privileged?" she teased poorly.
Tain smiled faintly, glancing down at his hand still holding her limp wrist.
"I believe you," he said quietly. So quietly, that Stephanie almost thought she had misheard him.
Stephanie blinked, her mouth falling open in shock. For a few seconds Seneca Crane and everything else evaporated from her thoughts.
"What?" Stephanie breathed, barely daring to hope.
Tain glanced down, seemingly gathering his words before he spoke. He looked up, offering Stephanie a sheepish smile.
"I believe you when you say you had nothing to do with Fas Clearwater's death."
Stephanie grinned blindingly. She couldn't help it or even try and dim it down. She grasped Tain's hand tightly then that was holding her wrist, almost crushing it in her intensity.
Tain chuckled, looking to her bemused.
"Thank-you," Stephanie said, her throat feeling tight. She couldn't really explain why it suddenly meant so much to her. But for Tain at that moment to tell her that he believed her, for a molecule of truth to emerge in a web of lies. It was perhaps the best thing that had happened at this otherwise chaotic party.
She released his hand before Tain could think she had gone manic and would dive on him any moment.
He turned slightly, readying to slip off before Astara could catch them speaking with one another.
"Besides," Tain murmured, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. "Anyone who has the nerve to insult the Head Gamemaker in a publicised interview is a friend in my books."
He winked and grinned at her before he slipped off, and Stephanie felt the smile on her face frozen in place like some awful mask.
If Tain knew the words she had uttered mere minutes ago concerning the blue-eyed Gamemaker, she doubted he would ever trust her at all. And all at once the fleeting feeling of relief she had savoured had been snatched away.
Tain thought she had uttered the insult with the rebellious spirit of a tribute against the Capitol! The truth was far from it actually.
Stephanie swallowed thickly. She moved swiftly and ducked behind one of the great sculptures in the room. She wasn't hidden, not by a long stretch. But she would be able to remain in relative peace for a few minutes at least, Stephanie prayed fervently.
She needed space and time to think.
Capitol parties weren't usually the best place for self-reflection, but… 'desperate times called for desperate measures' as Silver had said. She needed to make sense of…everything before she had to face him again.
Before she had to give the public apology to Seneca Crane, she had to know exactly what she felt towards the man.
Stephanie peeked around the statue. She could make out some familiar heads of hair; Astara's long white-blond locks trailing down her back, Ava and Frenkin's honey heads of hair bent low and close together in adorably, serious discussion. And Prall's dark head and darker scowl, as he visibly scoured the room.
For me no doubt, Stephanie thought grimly.
But with a faint twinge of guilt Stephanie knew she couldn't face her alliance right now. Not when her thoughts were causing unholy riot in her head at that moment so she could barely distinguish one from the other.
She could see Electra talking to Haymitch, Isa nowhere in sight thankfully. The faint twist of guilt intensified tenfold when her sights landed on Haymitch. It felt like her heart was being put through a wringer when she looked at her ex-fiancé.
Stephanie leaned heavily against the statue, shutting her eyes for a moment longer than a blink.
Stephanie thought of Haymitch, of Haymitch the man she loved and wanted to spend the rest of her life with. But at that moment she couldn't face him, not after her shameful confession that burned her skin yet chilled her blood. Just like Seneca's eyes did…
Stephanie pushed the traitorous thoughts away. She felt like her body and mind were rebelling against her, staging a revolt that was sure to drive her to the brink of insanity or worse!
Feelings for Seneca Crane!
Running through her head on a gruesome reel, Stephanie forced herself to recall every vile thing Seneca did. She remembered the coldness in his voice when he had threatened the life of her sister Weisna and unborn child. She remembered the pain in Haymitch's voice when he spoke of all the people Seneca had taken from him. She remembered the five years of tributes - children mostly, Seneca had robbed of life in the most brutal ways possible.
Stephanie halted the chaotic whirling of her thoughts abruptly, her face pale once more.
She gathered her thoughts to her; the sensible logic, the stubborn pride and those burgeoning rebellious thoughts. She gathered them in like a teacher with a classroom of unruly children and then she dropped the bombshell.
Feelings for Seneca Crane? – Explain.
Immediately her stubborn pride and rebellious thoughts were at war, ripping into one another.
Feelings for the monster that has murdered children like Frenkin without a second thought! Feelings for the man who had single-handedly destroyed Haymitch's life! – Never!
…But then why did you hold his hand, look to him for protection at the medical facility? Why did you tell him about wanting to be free, and why do you still trust him so implicitly?
Logic interrupted with very valid reasons – logic was overruled. Logic was thrown out of the fighting ring between her warring thoughts. Afterall when it came to feelings; those irrational and unexplainable things – logic, ceased to matter.
Feelings?
She didn't love Seneca. Of that she was certain. Not even the rebellious side of her thoughts were daring enough to push for that. And she didn't even really like him, not really…?
Then what was it she felt towards the blue-eyed Gamemaker? A man she trusted, and essentially relied on to save her life?
Another few flakes of her pride flitted away unnoticed. She didn't hate him. She had known that for certain since their afternoon by the lake.
But then why all the 'unnecessary interaction' with him?! The rebellious side of her thoughts seemed to smirk triumphantly as her pride sulked, having no answer to refute.
Stephanie rubbed a hand over her face, not caring that her make-up had only just been reapplied.
Seneca was driving her insane, as she knew he would. She was perched on a pedestal at a Capitol party, having her thoughts do imaginary battle in her head, for goodness sake!
Stephanie gritted her teeth, irked at herself. Because a small voice, one she desperately didn't want to hear, knew the truth she didn't want to admit.
Stephanie ground her teeth together harder. She wouldn't listen to it; that oh, so familiar, silky murmur. She had already given up enough of her pride and self-dignity tonight. But still the thought persisted, until Stephanie puffed out a harsh breath of defeat.
Seneca was right, it whispered sweetly.
Stephanie glared at the plummeting drop of water before her; so beautiful, so powerful, so dangerous.
Attracted to things even if they were dangerous…
Seneca had said that to her back at the lake. And that was her answer.
She was attracted to the blue-eyed Gamemaker - intrigued, her thoughts haunted by him. How could she not be?
Seneca Crane had hated her so fiercely before, simply for being.
He had taunted her with her excruciating demise in the arena, threatened the life of her sister cruelly. He had terrified her whenever he got the chance, just so he could enjoy the fear that would flit across her face. He had stood by and watched as she was hounded by a crowd, watched as a guard forced her to her knees, twisting her arm behind her back, all while the Gamemaker had did nothing.
Even on occasion Stephanie was sure Seneca had been close to hitting her himself. She would see his eyes blaze hotly and her blood would turn to ice as she panicked that this time, this time she had pushed him too far. She also imagined that it wasn't concern for her that had stalled him from lashing out at her physically. He merely hadn't wanted to lower himself to strike the filthy district, tribute girl; because that was all he had thought about her – in the beginning.
He had delighted in the fact that he believed her so far below him. She had meant nothing to him, merely a way to hurt Haymitch, and an amusing pastime for the President's son who was used to everyone grovelling around him.
He had planned her death with the cold and calculating cruelty he had planned the previous five years of tributes. She wondered now what he had been imagining for her. Would it have been any worse than what King did to tributes?
But then things had…changed, irrevocably.
Somehow, much to Stephanie's confusion, the blue-eyed Gamemaker's hate and disgust for her had lessened to be replaced by begrudging admiration that had spiralled into something else. Something the Gamemaker couldn't understand to begin with.
It was why he had shown up at Sterlin's apartment, still smug and disdainful as he told Stephanie he loved her, fully expecting some acknowledgement of his feelings in return.
Stephanie had feared him more than ever in those moments. She was convinced the Gamemaker had merely confused 'love' with erogenous want, and that she would soon be forced to endure something that would break her completely, when Seneca grew impatient.
Then the situation had changed, again. Or more specifically Seneca started changing.
Imperceptibly at first, but undeniably all the same. Little changes to begin with, as he lessened how much he would taunt her. He didn't seem quite so pleased as he once had, when she would flinch in fear towards him.
She grew to believe that he could, that maybe it was possible, as ludicrous a thought though it seemed. That maybe Seneca Crane, Head Gamemaker and President Snow's son could love…her, a 'worthless, district girl.'
Stephanie realised bitterly that was when it had started; her…feelings. The moment she accepted that Seneca loved her as he postponed the training.
She hadn't wanted to reciprocate Seneca's feelings – far from it! And she still now, didn't love Seneca. The thought was impossible. She could never love a man like…that.
Changed he may be, Seneca Crane was still guilty of unforgivable crimes, and would be guilty of more still, when his century Games concluded.
But damn it! She was…intrigued, interested…attracted to this man who would give up so much because he loved her.
Stephanie had just been a simple girl from District 3. She never expected anyone to make such grand gestures for her. But then Seneca had essentially told her he was going to sacrifice everything – and this when she still hated him, at that stage! And all because he loved her…
For Stephanie the thought, when she finally accepted it, was a little…overwhelming, dizzying.
Things had been so much simpler when Seneca Crane had been just a Head Gamemaker and President Snow's son. She could hate him so easily then.
The girl she was when she first came to the Capitol would never have let Seneca carry her while she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder. That girl would never have talked and told Seneca Crane memories of home by a lake. And that girl most certainly wouldn't have forgiven Seneca Crane for kissing her.
But she didn't hate him anymore, and all that was left was this infinite intrigue, this attraction. For this man she knew so little about, yet he was willing to give up so much for her.
Stephanie clenched her hands into her fists at her side, letting the nails dig into her palms angrily.
Why did her hate have to leave her, abandon her? Leave her defenceless before the blue-eyed Gamemaker.
What annoyed Stephanie more was that Seneca had knew her hate for him was gone. He had known it before she had. That was why he had said those things by the lake about being attracted to things even though they were dangerous. The thought was almost humiliating. That he, Seneca had been able to see her attraction towards him before she could.
She had been too busy caught up in her structured morals that left no room for shades of grey; her 'friends and enemies' list that said she had to hate Seneca. She had clung to it, those black and white facts when it felt like the world was dissolving around her here in the Capitol.
Stephanie felt unbidden tears prick at her eyes. What would her family say if they could see her now? Fen, her brother that had saved her all those years ago, would be disgusted with her. He would probably never speak to her again.
Damn you, Seneca Crane! Stephanie thought vehemently.
Neither her stubborn pride, nor rebellious thoughts reared up though. They left Stephanie alone with the most damaging thing of all; the truth.
Stephanie was attracted to Seneca Crane.
It was the truth that Seneca had known before her. The truth that Electra had saw and heard since she came to the Capitol and listened to Stephanie tell her everything.
It was the truth that Haymitch had saw in her eyes at the racetracks, though Stephanie hadn't known it then.
Believing…trusting…getting to know the Gamemaker – it had all been a part of her attraction to him.
She had been furious and choleric with hateful rage for Seneca, when she thought that the Gamemaker had turned her into a murderer, by killing Fas Clearwater. But she had been hurt also; though it had been buried well beneath the anger and the pained hate when she attacked Seneca with the intention of killing him.
Hurt that a man she had been growing to believe would do something like that to her. Hurt that Seneca could possibly turn her into a murderer.
That was what Haymitch had seen in her eyes that day at the racetracks, when she had told him she needed to see Seneca.
There was rage and pain burning deeply in Stephanie's eyes, but there was also hurt. And Haymitch knew then what Seneca was beginning to learn. That Stephanie was attracted to Seneca. And that was why Haymitch had stormed out like he had.
Stephanie felt the tears smarting her eyes, pooling beneath her lashes and she pushed them back. She could not go in front of a camera to make a public apology to Seneca Crane with a tear blotched face.
But the realisation for Stephanie; the realisation that she had feelings for Seneca had been so unexpected, so swift and terrifying like a fainting spell.
Stephanie almost felt the irrational feeling of betrayal rise up in her. They had all known; Seneca, Haymitch, Electra.
Electra had tried to warn her back in her room with her riddles and confounding conversation, but Stephanie had been too irate at the woman to listen.
And oh God, Haymitch! Stephanie's thoughts moaned.
Stephanie covered her face with her hands, drawing in a shaky breath.
To even admit she felt anything other than burning hatred for the man that had ruined Haymitch's life, seemed like a betrayal.
Wasn't she meant to love Haymitch? Where on earth did being attracted to Seneca Crane fit in with that?
It doesn't, Stephanie's thoughts muttered bitterly, that's why me and Haymitch aren't together anymore…
Stephanie jolted, unable to stop the small yelp that forced its way out of her throat at the sudden grasp to her wrist.
Her emotions were so wildly fluctuating in those moments that all she could do was stare uncomprehendingly at the owner of the hand clasping her wrist. Astara eyed Stephanie's face worriedly.
"Hey – you alright?" Astara tried again.
Stephanie schooled her expression into something more neutral, from the panicky mask of despair she had been wearing seconds before that had caused Astara's concern.
"Yea. I-I just…needed a few minutes," Stephanie replied falteringly, aware at how awful she was at lying especially spontaneously, but unable to do much to rectify the situation.
Astara however, thankfully didn't press the situation. She merely nodded and then murmured lowly under her breath, almost apologetically.
"Prall's demanding an 'alliance talk'. I'd recommend facing him now before he has any more time to work himself into a bigger frenzy."
Astara offered Stephanie a commiserating, wry smirk of sympathy, while Stephanie groaned inwardly.
She had a fair idea why 'Prall was demanding an alliance talk'.