Bellamy scowled, wanting nothing more than to bat away the hand that was dusting his chest in black powder.
"Remind me again," His voice shook with tension and the Capitol prep woman looked up at him with huge, round eyes that blinked too much. "Why it's necessary for me to be half-naked?" He finished with a narrowing of his eyes. The woman blinked. She was small and squat with a round middle that infuriated Bellamy. In Twelve people were starving and this silly blinking fool gorged herself so much that it showed on her body. Her bloated skin was painted pastel pink, Bellamy supposed it was meant to be pretty, but it made her look like she had just emerged from a hot bath with scolding skin. Hot baths were another luxury they couldn't afford in Twelve.
"For the parade, tributes wear costumes that reflect their district's primary industry," The woman said meekly as she continued to dab at his skin with the powdered sponge. Bellamy sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Yes, I know. We're coal miners, how is this," He gestured to his bare chest, "Relevant to mining?"
"It's coal dust, from the mines," The woman finished decorating him and reached to place a large helmet on top of his head. Bellamy was so tall compared to her that she had to stand on a stool to do so. The helmet was a heavy thing with a bulbous light on the front that glowed an obnoxious amber when switched on. That and a pair of well worn trousers and beaten up boots were all there was to his outfit.
"Why do I have to be half naked in order to represent coal mining? You do know this isn't what real miners wear?" He spat at the woman as she fussed with his hair and put more of the powder onto his face. "No of course you don't, I bet you've never even left the Capitol have you?" The woman didn't reply.
Bellamy knew somewhere deep down that he was being unfair. This woman didn't orchestrate the games, didn't prevent food from getting to the districts or torture the people who lived there. It wasn't her fault. He knew that, but it didn't make it any easier to like her. Maybe she didn't do all those things, but she didn't do anything to stop them either.
"You're a handsome boy," She offered him a smile, "It will gain you sponsors,"
"I'm going to die! Why do they care what I look like?" He groaned at her silence. The parade was going to be awful no matter what he was dressed like. He didn't relish the thought of being displayed for hundreds of leering Capitol faces so that they could make bets on how long he would live. He didn't like it, but he couldn't prevent it. That's what Octavia would say. There's no use getting upset Bell, it won't change anything. Bellamy could hear her voice in his head.
His chest ached. He missed her already, and he'd seen her just that morning. It felt like a lifetime ago though. She'll be watching, he thought to himself, she'll be watching for you Bellamy, so don't screw it up.
"Just tell me Charlotte's not topless too?" Bellamy forced his thoughts away from Octavia, onto another little girl, another little girl who needed his help. He tasted bile at the thought that she might be paraded around in similarly seductive garb. She's a child, they wouldn't. Though in truth, Bellamy was beginning to think there was nothing the Capitol wouldn't do.
The woman's eyebrows rose, but they were so pale against her scalded pink skin that you could barely tell.
"Charlotte?"
"The little girl? District Twelve's female tribute?" Bellamy's voice was an exasperated sound and the Capitol woman flinched under his hard stare as she stepped down from her stool.
"I don't know what she's wearing, her stylist will have seen to that. I'm just the make-up artist, I don't get to make the choices," There was a weight on the way she said that, that reminded Bellamy of his earlier thoughts, that she wasn't the one to blame. But it was difficult not to blame her when she stood there in all her fake and beautified glory, while she couldn't even remember Charlotte's name.
"Speaking of stylists, I'm going to get yours," She nodded at him curtly before grabbing up her kit and scurrying from the room. Bellamy bristled and stepped toward the full length mirror so that he could at least see how awful he looked before he went out to face the crowd. And the other tributes.
He had watched the recaps of the reaping on the train with Charlotte before they reached the Capitol. She had looked even smaller when compared to the other tributes. The tributes from One looked strong enough, the boy volunteered, no surprises, Bellamy thought. He looked a little flustered at his reaping, but Bellamy didn't doubt that he could kill viciously. The careers always did. The girl was a stony looking thing, pretty he supposed, but that as probably just another strategy. Attractive tributes always reeled in sponsors. Well, he had thought wryly to himself, she won't be disarming me, looks or else wise. He planned to stay as far away from the career tributes as possible.
An idea that was only made more appealing when the tributes for District Two were reaped. They were ugly, burly things the both of them. They looked as if they enjoyed beating up babies in their spare time.
The rest of the tributes looked average at best, but it didn't mean Bellamy was better than them. Besides, he'd have Charlotte to look out for. He'd promised her, promised that he would protect her in the arena. Bellamy made good on his promises, especially when they were made to little girls who reminded him of his sister. No, don't think about Octavia.
He had turned off the recaps once it got to their reaping; there was no way he wanted to relive that moment. Charlotte hadn't seemed to mind.
He wondered what she was doing now, what horrific get-up they had dressed her in, whether she was still projecting her stoic facade, or whether she had finally broken down. He wondered too what Octavia was doing. She'd be waiting to watch him in the parade, he knew, but would she be watching in the square with the rest of the district? Or huddled by their mother in their tiny shack of a house?
Bellamy stroked his left wrist softly, where the red ribbon was fastened to him tight. The make-up artist had wanted him to take it off, but he had glared at her so fiercely that she let it be. The fabric was worn and frayed, but it was home, it was his sister, and there was no way he was taking it off. "You'll have to cut my arm off if you want me to get rid of it," He had told the Capitol woman, he wasn't lying.
The reflection was just as bad as he had expected it to be. He did have a toned chest, product of years of hard work, but he wasn't as heavy as some of the other male tributes who had had more to eat. Dressed in the powder he looked like a fool, a dirty fool. The helmet was ridiculous and the whole concept was a giant mockery.
The cough behind him drew his attention before he saw her figure in the mirror. Bellamy's head snapped round to face his stylist, Alodia. The stylist was a stark contrast to the prep woman, but it didn't make Bellamy like her any more. Alodia was tall and lean with bones jutting out beneath skin that was pea-green. Her eyebrows were tattooed into sharp points and she had vine patterns decorating her arms. Her lips were the same shade as her skin so that it appeared as if she had none.
"Bellamy," She smiled politely and the dark line where her lips pressed together was all that could be seen. "How do you like your outfit?"
"I don't." Alodia's eyebrows shot up and Bellamy rolled his eyes, Capitol people were so easy to offend. Good.
"Why not?" She pursed her invisible lips.
"I'm supposed to be going to fight to the death, not selling my body. It is irrelevant and humiliating, like everything you Capitol peacocks do," He rubbed at the ribbon on his wrist. Alodia followed his motion until her gaze fell upon the tatty strip of silk. To Bellamy's surprise and relief, she didn't mention it.
"I suggest you smile more at your interview Bellamy, no costume can gain you sponsors if you insist on acting so utterly dislikeable," Alodia picked at her nails as she spoke in a voice that almost suggested boredom.
"I'm not here for you to like me,"
"On the contrary, I do like you, you're bold. Rude? Yes. Brash? Yes. But bold, and brave. I saw your reaping; I don't think you're as unkind as you want everyone to think." She looked up, her dark eyes meeting his, "But you're right, I don't have to like you. The audience has to like you. If they like you, you'll get sponsors. And if you get sponsors, you might just live to complain a little longer. Or maybe to see that sister of yours again," She stepped towards him and smacked away the hand that was fiddling with his helmet. "Now come, you've got a parade to attend,"
To Bellamy's relief, he saw that Charlotte was dressed in something more modest than he was. She was stood by their chariot, stroking the neck of a dappled grey horse as she looked around nervously. When she noticed Bellamy, her pale lips curved up in a smile. Her face was also covered in synthetic black 'coal', but at least most of her skin was covered. Her outfit was much the same as Bellamy's except smaller with the addition of a loose black vest. Her helmet was balanced atop of mousy braids and it wobbled when she walked toward him. Her stylist tutted quietly but neither tribute paid him any mind.
"Bellamy! I'm glad you're here, all the other tributes scare me, they're so big and they look at me like I'm a meal," She bit on her fingernails anxiously. Bellamy felt a jab of rage as he glanced around the other chariots. Something glimmering caught his eye and his gaze landed on the District One tributes. The glimmering he had seen was their costumes; much more elaborate than his and Charlottes, their costumes were composed entirely of different gemstones, casting of colourful streaks of light as they moved.
The blonde girl was looking at him. She smiled prettily at Bellamy when she noticed that she'd been caught out in her staring. Bellamy grimaced, crossing his arms across his chest. So that's how it'd going to be huh? You're stony for the Capitol and smiling for me? Well I'm not buying it. The girl frowned at his expression and turned away.
"Don't worry," Bellamy turned his attention back to Charlotte, "I'll scare them back," He grinned and the little girl smiled a mousy smile. He let his eyes do another scan of the tributes and found that the blonde had gone back to her staring. 'What is your problem?' He almost yelled. But then he remembered, her problem was that they had to kill each other.
"Come on," He offered Charlotte a hand into their chariot and tried to ignore the burning in the back of his head where a pair of blue eyes were surely fixed. The stylists made their final adjustments to the outfits, the horses brayed and the Capitol anthem roared through the quiet chatter. Charlotte gripped onto Bellamy's hand behind the wooden front of the chariot, where no one could see.
Bellamy let her. It would be good for him, to have Charlotte holding on to him, to remind him why he was there, what he had to do. At least that's what he told himself. Oh, Octavia. I wish I was there with you now, instead of here. He cursed himself, Charlotte needed him now. His thoughts were so loud that he almost missed the announcement of District One's tributes. He focused back in on the present just in time to see a curly golden mane disappear from view, her jewel encrusted dress leaving spots of colour on his vision long after she was gone.
The brutes from Two followed, their outfits made of hammered gold and steel, reflecting the light as much as One, but not so prettily. Then there was Three, bound up in wires. Four were wrapped in nothing but fishing nets. Bellamy was suddenly much more grateful for his costume.
Five, covered in lights like the Christmas tree someone had erected in the town square one year. The peacekeepers tore it down and beat the man who had put it up. Six, decorated in nuts and bolts and metal tools. Seven, dressed as trees. Bellamy missed the forests by his home.
Eight, outfits made of odd, mismatched scraps of textiles. He stroked the ribbon on his wrist with his free hand, his heart pumping faster.
Nine, Bellamy couldn't tell what they were dressed in; his mind was whirring and his heart beating too fast to focus on much else. Don't be scared, don't be scared, stupid. It's just a parade. Eleven's chariot rolled out of view. Bellamy exhaled, did I miss ten? Is it us already?
Their horses trotted forward obediently and Bellamy had to count his breaths to keep calm. He switched on his headlamp, stupid though it was, and let Charlotte squeeze his hand too tightly.
And then they were past the stable doors and out into the view of the crowd.
"Ladies and gentleman, the tributes of District Twelve!" Bellamy was blinded, blinking in the brightness of huge lights surrounding them. When his eyes adjusted he could see the crowd as a rainbow sea, hundreds of faces grinning and cheering. Some of them were even cheering his name.
The horses carried them down the long path at a steady pace, their hooves crushing flowers that carpeted the floor. A laugh escaped Bellamy in his disbelief. He'd never thought people would be throwing roses at his feet. Charlotte looked up at him with a bemused smile.
Just as Bellamy's head was starting to hurt from the bright lights and onslaught of noise, the chariots drew to a stop in a long line in front of a balcony where the President himself was stood. He was an ugly man, with skin pulled too tight over his skull to hide his age and lips blown up to a ridiculous pout. As he looked over the tributes there was a heart-stopping moment where Bellamy was sure he was staring right at him. But then his eyes moved on, and the moment did too.
President Snow commenced his usual speech about the wonder of the Capitol, glory, sacrifice and pretending that he cared about anyone's life but his own. It made Bellamy's skin bristle with anger. It wasn't until the very end that his speech differed from the usual dribble he spat out each year.
"And now, for a special announcement. A very, unusual circumstance, a once in a lifetime opportunity as it were," The President paused for effect, his inflated lips curling upward as he looked over the crowd. There was a hush, like an intake of breath as they waited to see what he had to say. Bellamy felt his face form a frown in confusion.
"As a mark of the Capitol's generosity, a reward for the faithful service of the Districts and a celebration of their sacrifice; this year, and this year only, two victors may be crowned to show the Districts that loyalty, is rewarded." There was a collective gasp. Bellamy turned to face Charlotte, her little chest rising and falling with rapid breaths and her doe eyes glistening in the light.
A/N I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope people enjoy reading it! I know, two victors is a long shot...but it's happening, I can't deal with the amount of sad otherwise. Please let me know what you think! :) - J x