The Princess Of Panem
Chapter Two: The Human Factor
By BluebirdBrigade
Aurora
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This was the sort of nightmare that you feared and thought about as you lay wide awake in bed, unable to sleep. It was like a monster, you felt like it was there in the darkness but somewhere in the back of your mind…you know it wasn't. It was just you being scared. Not this time. The nightmare had come true, and it was happening to me.
I sat still on the soft velvet couches that were within the justice building, letting the velvet stroke the palms of my hands and comfort the internal agony I was going through. When I died, my brother was going to be all by himself. He was going to live in agony, drink himself to death like Haymitch. There was denying it, I was the one thing he treasured above all else. His arms were my safety, his being was my anchor. He was my big brother and I loved him so much, I didn't want to leave him to rot in this place. Dammit. I was going to cry, I couldn't cry. I blinked thrice, trying to bat the tears away unsuccessfully.
"Rory."
I jumped but as soon as I saw my fair haired brother, his eyes big and full of pain, I ran to him and hugged him hard. I couldn't believe this was the last time I was ever going to see him. I couldn't let him go. I didn't want to ever let him go. His arms entwined around me, and he was seemingly in the same mindset. And I let go. I begun to cry in his arms as he rocked me back and forth.
"Apollo, I can't do it." I sobbed, letting the crying control me. He jolted back, his eyes glazing over. He began to brush the tears off my cheeks, and calm me down but I couldn't calm. I wasn't strong enough, I wasn't going to survive.
"Rory, you have a good chance."
"Don't lie to me Apollo, false hope will get me nowhere—"
"I'm not." He shook his head, and let his eyes hit the ceiling like he was praying. God never heard us, and he certainly hadn't saved us. "Ro, you know your plants. You're intelligent and you can fight."
"Not like them! I'm useless." I reply, and suddenly I'm weak-kneed and about to sag onto the floor. I'm useless. I'm useless. I'm going to die. My brother holds me up, making sure I don't fall.
"You're not. You're damn good with a sword. You might not be powerful, but you have skill. If a tribute tries to pull you into unarmed combat, you run. You can run, I'll give you that. I remember the day when I got on your bad side. You caught me within a minute."
He gives me a smile and I give him a watery chuckle that turns quickly into a sob.
"Stay safe." I whisper to him.
"Don't worry about me." He says, swatting my plea away. "Ro, I have something for you." He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a locket. It's silver and fancy with lettering on the front that I don't understand. "It was grandmothers."
I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment as I let myself remember her.
"You're a warrior. Like her."
"I'm no warrior."
"You have no faith in yourself." Apollo grabs my hand and drops the locket into it. "Keep it."
"I'm not allo—"
"You get one token. There it is." He points at my hand. I hear a the rumble from the otherside of the door as the footsteps grow closer. I pull Apollo in and wrap my arms around him because I'm not going to let go.
The door bursts open, and two men in white suits grab Apollo around the shoulders. I won't let go and it takes them a minute to prise us apart.
"I lov—" he yells to me.
The door slams. It sounds like a jail door slamming shut.
"I love you too."
I don't give a shit anymore. I cry in a small ball on the floor, and no other visitors come and see me. District 12 will be glad to get rid of their witch. Maybe the tributes will burn me at the stake. How fitting.
The doors burst open after 5 more minutes, and the two humongous guards clad in white with massive helmets pick me up of the ground and set me on my feet. Taking deep breaths, I steady myself and they then lead me through the door and to my fate.
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Reporters lie in wait for us at the train station. They stretch over each other, wide and creepy smiles stretch their faces into awkward shapes. Their limbs flying everywhere, their cameras an attachment to their arm as if it belonged there. As I go past with the guards, the capitol people make comments as if I can't hear.
"Her parents died when she was so young, the poor lamb!"
"Hair like molten silver!"
"Such a beautiful farewell to her brother at the ceremony, don't you think?"
After the last comment, I block every single one out by singing a nursery rhyme in my head. Over and over until we reach the gleaming train with its shiny metal and unblemished coat. No longer blocked by all the people taller than me, I can see Haymitch looking at me with an expression I cannot read. No doubt I am the first of the tributes he's ever had to mentor that he knew before the reaping.
Christian Waterfly hasn't cried once, that's clear on his face. But the tremble on his lip tells me that he will break soon. My heart goes out to the boy who had so little time. For a moment, I hope he wins. Then I remember that if he does win, I certainly won't be around to see it. Christian may have a better chance than me, no doubt. He's only 13 but he's almost my height. I tap his shoulder, as Haymitch enters the interior of the train.
"Let's get on." He runs a hand through his hair and he complies. We enter the train, both unaware of what we might find.
It's beautiful. I knew it would be, Capitol items are always beautiful and glimmering and expensive. The couches are a pristine white, and the floors are immaculately clean. Everything looks as if it was brand new. As we enter each compartment, they just seem to get more and more extreme. In the dining cart, a fountain of what looks to be chocolate stands in the centre of a long table. Fruit is arranged around it on silver skewers. Cakes decorate the table, except they are small and dainty. You could probably peel off the layer of paper around it and pop it straight in your mouth. I also notice the beautiful artwork that is drawn on to the china teacups and their saucers.
Almost immediately after we enter the room, Effie leads us out to show us where our rooms are. She taps the doors where we will be staying and giggles in a high pitched voice.
"Now, you two can have some time to yourselves and then meet us in the dining carriage for dinner. It's at 6pm sharp! Don't be late!" She twirls on the spot and she clicks away with her pearly white heels.
Christian and I look at each other. He really is a handsome youthful boy, it is such a shame. His eyes were a dark, mossy green and his hair was like the dark chocolate that lay on the table in the dining cart. But he looked so miserable and I realised I must be the mirror image of him. I drilled my lips into a straight line and walked into my room.
I probably shouldn't have been surprised at anything right now, because it was clear everything the capitol had made for this train was just stunning, but my face dropped in shock.
The floor beneath me was covered in this fuzzy red material. I took off my worn out shoes and let my toes sink into the redness. I ignored the rest of the room and walked straight over to the king-sized bed that lay to the right of the room, and threw myself on top of it.
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I must have lain there for a while because when I checked the time, three hours had passed and there was a knock on the door. I pretended to be asleep, Effie could just leave me in peace.
"It's me."
Well, I hadn't expected that voice.
"Come in." I said clearly, not moving from the bed.
Haymitch Abernathy entered the room, bringing with him the pungent smell of gin. I tried not to wrinkle my nose. He surveyed my bedroom with piercing eyes, lips drawn into a line that one could mistake as a frown.
"Nice room." I sat up, pulling my knees up to my chest and taking a couple of deep breaths. Haymitch didn't seem perturbed but instead he moved over to the arm chair that I hadn't noticed that stood next to the large window. His outfit didn't suit him, I decided, it was too capitol-esque and Haymitch just wasn't. It was a weird shade of gray and a pink and green striped tie lay over his midnight blue waistcoat. It looked distasteful. But Haymitch didn't care about clothes.
"Isn't it just." I replied monotonously.
"I won't say I'm sorry, because you're stronger than people give you credit for. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for." He took a sip of the brown drink that was in his left hand. "When I first met you, you were a frightened little girl. Now look at you."
"I'm still the same, Haymitch." I say bitterly. "I don't change."
"You already have." I stare at him and he leans back superiorly. I try not to grit my teeth in anger. "Every tribute does after the reaping."
"I wonder why." I say flatly, and he raises his eyebrows at my sardonic behaviour.
"Come on, Rory." His casual nickname should comfort me but instead it brings back memories of my brother.
"Haymitch." I don't check to see if he's listening. "Promise me something."
"I never can."
"No, I mean, promise me something important." Haymitch sees the understanding in my eyes and deflects the idea I've given him that my life isn't important because at the moment, to me, it isn't. If it's not important to the Capitol, it's not important to me. "When I die, don't let my brother give up."
"If you die, I won't." Haymitch takes another sip. "So you're not even going to try and win?" His tone hints at incredulous but also disappointed.
"I'm going to fight with every last bone in my body. But I'm not going to win. How can I win?"
"How did I win?" Haymitch asks me suddenly but I don't answer him. "I don't even know how to this day. I can watch myself on tapes, winning. But HOW did I win?" When I still don't say anything, he stands up and walks towards the door. Before he walks out and leaves me in my room that feels suddenly too big for me, he turns back.
"If you give up now, you have no chance. I'll tell you that."
And then he leaves and I lie back in my enormous bed, the soft pillows underneath my head do nothing to making me comfortable. I feel sick, and a pain in my chest that I soon come understand as heartache for my family. I look up at the ceiling but all I see is a Apollo's face.
I finally let myself really cry, with wailing that is only stifled by the pillow beneath me. I hide under the duvet and let rip until my eyes are sore with crying and my body can't take the sobs anymore. And then I go into the bathroom and find a cubicle with a water sprayer above attached to a metal connecter. I sit on the ground of this cubicle for half an hour, just sitting on the floor while the scalding hot water hits my skin. I feel myself burning, and red marks quickly appear on my skin but I don't care. I kind of enjoy the pain, it humanises me and I really need that human factor right now.
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Chapter Two of my first HG FF - Review and tell me if you enjoy it :) I will also add a link to what I think Aurora would look like on my profile.
Love
Lex