Chapter Three
Virgilia woke Annie the next morning with a team of stylists in toe to prepare her for the ceremony to crown her as victor. First they disrobed her, then lathered her body with a creamy lotion before rubbing a powder that matched her skin tone perfectly into the blackish bruises that still covered her back and legs. Afterward they combed and curled her auburn tresses and pulled the front back with bejeweled clips before they finally pushed and pulled her into an evergreen-colored day dress. Before the games her stylists had often adorned her in dark greens, rich blues, and bright turquoise to show off her complexion and ocean heritage.
"This will go perfectly with the crown," Virgilia sighed, fingering the hem of Annie's dress.
Annie's brow creased. "It will?" She couldn't remember watching the last televised victor's ceremony for a female tribute, and last years—a male tribute from district 2, was just a hazy memory for Annie now.
Gazing at her reflection in the full length mirror before her, Annie struggled with the truth of her situation. She was willing herself not to think of Ril and those last moments, or any other part of the games, but clear sharp pangs of memory kept resurfacing. When she turned her head to peak at the stylists gossiping about a friend she could also hear the pounding torrent of rain as it pelted down all around her before the dam broke and the arena filled with freezing water. Then turning back to the mirror she thought the play of overhead light looked eerily similar to the gigantic moon that filled the sky before the storm hit. The flash of a birds wings outside the window was nearly impossible to separate from the harsh angle it was held before it struck the back of Ril's neck.
"Well, don't you look lovely..!" It was Finnick's voice, and she could see him hovering in the doorway from behind her full side-swept bangs. After closing her eyes to center herself she turned, and watched as he gave her a quick lopsided smile before turning to the others. "Absolutely ravishing, Virgilia." He kissed Virgilia with a quick peck on each cheek before turning to the others. "Ladies," he gave them each a long, lingering, look. His voice turned even huskier, "And Phil," turning to the only male stylist, Finnick gave the pudgy older man a sharp wink. Annie noticed that each of her stylists were shrinking into themselves with glee.
Letting out a little chuckle, which sent the rest into a tailspin of sighs, Finnick turned to Annie. "You look good—strong. Feminine."
"I shouldn't be here." She confessed, lowering her voice.
He rolled his eyes. "None of that."
"But," she stammered, lowering her voice. "I couldn't have won. Ril was—I was in the water."
Finnick sighed. "I didn't want to show you the tapes from the last hour of the games because I thought it would be too much for you, but maybe I should."
Annie looked at him blankly.
"After you ran, and the monsoon started, a couple of the weaker tributes were taken out by sinkholes, and one, when a tree fell and trampled them. Everyone else was still alive when the dam broke. There were four of you left at that point. The first two killed each other in the water—almost simultaneously. Then, the last one, the black haired boy from 1 with all the scars, was caught in a riptide and drowned. You," Finnick took both her hands in his, "swam as far away from the others as you could. That was good. I'm proud of you. You swam them out, literally. You were the last one standing—well, swimming. You are the winner."
"Are we ready," Virgilia cut in. Annie watched as the older woman put her small thin hand on Finnick's arm, beckoning him slightly with her eyes.
"Of course we are, sweetheart." Finnick held his arm out to her and she took it. Annie watched them walk out with their elbows intertwined.
Annie followed behind, and once she reached the foyer she founds Mags waiting patiently on one of the sofas. She wore a long whitish-pink gown that shimmered like light on ocean water, and her hair was tied back in long flaxen braids. Annie held her arm out to Mags, just has Finnick had done to Virgilia, and with a surprised smile of pleasure, Mags excepted.
The crowning itself was very quick. After walking up to the dais with Mags and Finnick, the only other victors from her district, flanking her, she stood and waited while President Snow flawlessly delivered a speech detailing the age old nobility of winning the games. He described her district, and after a few short remarks on Annie herself (though, she noted, most of those were taken from her earlier interviews with Ceaser Flickerman) the president turned and presented her with a glittering sliver tiara. The crowds of the capital screamed and howled with joy as he placed it atop her head and taking his hand, she allowed him to walk her to the edge of the parapet where she was able to look down on the throngs of colorful people, all vying dangerously to get a closer look at her.
After the crowd hushed, Annie gave a quick speech—prepared by Virgilia and in part Finnick, and the ceremony concluded.
"Oh, Finnick," the stylists crooned. "Won't you stay longer? Can't we persuade you?"
"I'm afraid not," he said distractedly, pulling Annie and Mags along ahead of him as they hurriedly walked to the train platform. "We're on another victory tour, and you know what they say about the capital train…?" They looked at him adoringly. He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "it waits for no man. But Virgilia," he stopped to cup his hand against the older woman's cheek. Annie could hear him lower his voice but she could still make out him saying, "It's you I'll miss most of all."
Mags pulled Annie further up the train steps. At the windows inside, she and Mags waved enthusiastically to the crowd that had gathered outside. But it wasn't until the train started to roll away that Finnick finally boarded the train, letting the door slam shut behind him.
Mags sat down with a bemused huff.
"Finally that's over with," Finnick growled.
Annie sat down beside Mags, who was busily tearing her precise hairdo apart, and watched Finnick as he paced the train car. Coming to a stop he put his hand on Mags shoulder, and a silent conversation passed between them with just one look.
"Right," Finnick said with a smile. "A drink. Annie, do you want one?"
"What is it?"
Finnick smirked. "You can have strong, or stronger." Mags wagged a finger at him and he laughed. "I know, Mags, always the strongest for you."
He moved to the bar in the corner and prepared three glasses. When he came back he handed Annie a tumbler of dark liquid with a cluster of rosy-red cherries floating on the top. She could see that the drink he handed to Mags and the one he kept for himself were both clear with a faint bluest tint. Annie sniffed at her glass. "It's okay," he told her, sitting down across from them with a heavy sigh and taking a long pull of his drink, his face flinching slightly at the taste. Annie took a quick sip and relaxed. It tasted sugary and bubbly. Mags smiled and patted Annie's knee before turning to gaze out the window at the scenery flying by and nursed her drink.
Both Finnick and Mags were lost in their own thoughts—Annie had never seen either of them so withdrawn, but then, she had never seen them without the glare of the Capitols public eye on them. She let her eyes wander to the corner of the train car. "Are there—?" She felt Finnick raise his eyebrows at her. "—are we still being filmed?"
Finnick followed her gaze to the corner of the room, but he didn't answer her aloud. She thought his silence was more than enough of an answer.
When the sun began to set over the flat horizon Mags excused herself for bed. She kissed both Finnick and Annie on the cheek and departed. Annie watched the orange haze take over the sky before it faded into the dark grayish blue of twilight, and finally the opalescent cobalt of night.
Finnick paced around the train car like a caged animal, occasionally stopping to fix himself another drink, or to bring her another sugary concoction, but Annie was happy enough to watch the scenery wiz by. She had been too nervous the first time she boarded the train after the reaping to really stop and notice how pleasurable the experience was.
Annie noticed that Finnick was starting to look haggard.
"When do you think we'll get home?" She asked, attempting to break the silence.
He turned to face her, but he staggered slightly before he could speak. "Do you know where we are?"
She looked out at the flatness of the plains, and even though it was dark she could still make out the faint pinpricks of light from the industrial buildings far off. "District 2."
"Good." He sat down beside her, though his movements were a bit sluggish and exaggerated. "Do you know what those lights are?" Still holding his glass, he pointed with an index finger at the lights she had noticed before. "That is where they train the peace keepers. For every light you see, imagine one-hundred peace keepers."
Annie could see dozens of lights, and they went on for miles.
He smiled dazedly at her. "That is a very pretty crown."
She brought her hands up to her hair, she had forgotten that it was still on. Pulling it off she did what Mags had done and unwound the clips from her hair and shook it out.
He watched her, surprised, then laughed. "That looks better."
Annie studied the crown. It was silver, and not gold, which surprised her. The design was thin and light, petit and feminine, as a crown for a female tribute should be, she guessed. The intricacy of the patterns on it surprised her. She could make out ocean waves, mermaids, and leaping dolphins.
"Can I see it?"
She handed him the crown, and watched him finger and turn it. "The design on mine was a bit similar. Mine was gold though." His voice sounded distracted. "Mermaids, wave designs… tridents… I think there were blades, or maybe arrows and quivers…"
"You didn't keep it?"
Finnick scoffed, and biting his lip he turned the crown again and made sure she was watching while his thumb struck a catch on the inside. Annie heard a popping sound and noticed the eyes of the mermaids and dolphins move back to reveal several tiny microphones. "I was fourteen when I won my games," he went on, his voice even, unchanged, even though she herself had gasped. "But I never really noticed all the complex designs on my crown until I was seventeen." He handed the crown back to her, the silver felt hot from his skin. "I confess that since I donated it to the District 4 historical museum I haven't gone back often enough to study it thoroughly."
The crown felt like a brand in her hand. Without another word she stood and walked to the other end of the train car. She tilted one of the windows forward and without stopping to think she thrust the crown from her hand and let it fall to the black tracks below the train.
a/n: There is more to this chapter (this is the first half). I'm going to post chapter three in two parts so it's not too long for reader ease.