Ember Blaze

Disclaimer: Do not own the Hunger Games Trilogy.

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Chapter 4: Deals with the devil

Gale's POV

After some conflict with the guards, Plutarch managed to calm the situation and order the guard to release Portia from this cell and assign her to a proper room. Let's just say there was a huge argument. For Plutarch said, Cinna requested Portia to be here to make things comforting for all of us. Primarily Siobhan and me. But seeing Portia in her condition made the wrong turn. Portia confined into a safe location holding Cinna's journal of design, only to be punished for taking a single roll she hadn't finish to her work space. However security considered it stealing food.

Now here we are in the Hospital where Katniss mom took a better look of Portia condition, for her hands were cover in cuts and bruises. Mrs. Everdeen was luckily enough to be welcome into the hospital wing as a nurse. Even Mark got accepted as a nurse though is being taught to be a medical field doctor. Anyway Mrs. Everdeen led Portia to the examination room to asses her injury.

I sat down by a chair waiting for the results. You might find it strange, but Portia is a good friend even we don't show it as much as Siobhan and Cinna does. We talk and she gives support, but to see her like this just riles me up. At first I thought she was spared and is living her normal life in the district…not this.

Katniss took a seat next to me and place a hand on my shoulder. "She'll fix her up."

I nodded and watch Plutarch and Fulvia taking a seat on a bench across from us. If they had no knowledge of Portia's mistreatment, then who is actually in charge of this rebellion. Everybody says Plutarch is the leader of this rebellion, but from what I see, the one creating orders is President Coin. This is a warning in who is actually in charge.

An hour later Mrs. Everdeen return to give a report, "She'll be all right, No permanent physical injuries,

"Good. Splendid," Plutarch said. "How soon can she be put to work?"

"Probably tomorrow," she replied. "You'll have to expect some emotional instability, after what she has been though. She went through sleep deprivation for the past seventy-two hours."

Plutarch was going to say something but didn't.

Either Portia is asleep or I'm too angry, that Plutarch released me on my Mockingjay duties for the rest of the day, Katniss and I headed down to lunch, where we were some veggie stew, bread, and water. After Portia story on taking her roll of bread tick a nerve so I slide it over to Katniss tray. We hardly spoke a single word during lunch, once the bowl was clean, I pull the sleeve, examine the schedule.

"I got training next." I announced.

Katniss tug on her sleeve and examining her arm, "Me too."

"Right, we got hunting to do."

I relaxed some when we left the underground base and into the woods. You find it interesting how Katniss and I race through the corridors like school children for the armory. By the time we got there Katniss was breathless, hunching forward like she is going to puke. For me however, I stood there not breaking a sweat. Guess she needs to go back to training instead of hiding out from the base.

Anyway the guards provided our old weapons, including knives and a sack to put game in. Katniss tolerated having a tracker clamped on her ankle while I simply comply listening closely in how to use the hand held communicator. Once we got everything we headed out.

.o0o.

Throughout the two hours of hunt we got some turkey, rabbits, and squirrels. We rested by a pond cleaning the game. Katniss took a break chewing on some mint leaves while I gutted the game clean. All day felt like the good old days. How we use to hunt in silence, no need for any form of communication. Anticipating both our movements and watching our backs. A team we use to be once more. Though when I lift the bow aiming at the birds I still hesitate, sometimes seeing Marvel, Gloss, and Cato. Yet I still manage to draw the string and let go. It's like killing means nothing to me. Not an ounce of guilt.

Though someday . . . it might bite me in the ass later.

"Gale, why do you care so much about your stylist?" Katniss asked.

"Let me guess, because she spent the last year prettying me up for the slaughter?" I turn my head looking at her.

She nodded.

I sighed, "It's complicated."

"I get it. You know her. And from what I see, she's not evil or cruel. Though when she got hurt . . . the look you had is like when you see a child hurt. "Katniss said.

"Portia is different. But the others. ..They don't know." I replied. "That tributes – who are the actual children involved here, are forced to fight to the death? That I was going into the arena for people's amusement? Was that a big Capitol secret?"

"No. But they don't view it the way we do," She said.

"You're starting to sound like Mellark." I muttered, slipping the skin off a rabbit.

Katniss winced from that. I sighed, that sounded harsh, yet it is true, Katniss adjusted herself before saying, "I guess I'm defending anyone who's treated like that for taking a slice of bread. Maybe it reminds me too much of what happened to you over a turkey!"

I stop dropping the knife. A hash flashback of hands shackled while shirt ripped off during the middle of winter, as Head Peacekeeper Thread flogged me countless lashing. As the flashback goes by I realized my hands were in a fist, to a point knuckles were white to the bone. Taking a deep breath, I put the game away in the sack. "We better get going if we want to make it back on time."

I offer her a hand but she ignored it getting up on her own occurred, "Fine."

Nothing was said on the walk back. Once we got inside we handed the game to Greasy Sae in the kitchen. From what I recall, she likes District 13 kitchen, though the downside is the restrictions of cooking and lack of imagination. Would give a lot for wild meat stew! Peeta Mellark was there making some bread, which Katniss walk over and talk to him. It's strange that Katniss and Mellark got so close since the last game. At least she found somebody to trust. I wonder if she knows that Mellark has a crush on her since they were eleven.

Tired from everything, I went back to my compartment to rest. There are two beds, well more like a bed and a bunk. I share this room with my brothers, while a door lead to a joint room where Mom and Posy sleep that held a single bed. More strings being pulled by Plutarch. So taking off my shirt and boots, I lay down on the bed to rest. Sadly around 18:00 – Reflection, Posy is climbing on my bed tickling me. Her chubby little fingers attempted to tickle me, though it doesn't work. I made a few fake chuckles tossing a tickle for her entertainment, before returning the favor and started tickling her.

Rory tells me there going to be a assembling later. Vick nodded though said he can't make it since he had work. A lot of people who do the essential jobs won't be there. I nodded as my family reflects between all of us. The simple conversation we had back in twelve. But still tension was still in the.

.o0o.

At The Collection, the huge room was filled with thousands of people who available. I notice Mrs. Everdeen and Prim leading the medical patients who are mobile in. Madge and Mark also participated in their help. The next people I notice were Johanna and Annie. I walk over to him.

"Gale," Annie said confused. "Why are we meeting here?"

"I agreed to Coin to be the Mockingjay. Though the deal is she has to promise and announced to the public that the other tributes/victors have immunity if the rebels won." I told her. "So in public she will announce it with witnesses."

"Great, now hell is gonna freeze over." Johanna muttered.

"That's good," she mumbled, ignoring Johanna's comment. "I worry about Finnick . . . because of his past . . . reputation."

I breathed and nodded. It's hard to believe that Annie would love somebody like Odair. The man is a womanizer and player. At least that is the first thought. But now I understand why Odair went through such behavior's . . . just how I acted to save my family. Odair gave up his dignity and body for her: The girl who has gone mad.

Coin calls everybody to attention for the public announcement. Instantly the room goes silences in a second before President Coin started the announcement, that I consented to be the Mockingjay, provided the other victors -Siobhan, Finnick, and Enobaria -shall be pardon of any collateral damage for the rebel cause. During the rumble of whispers in what to agree, to spare traitors.

A moment later Coin finished in a brisk fashion. However she continue more to the speech, "But in return for this unprecedented request, Soldier Hawthorne has promised to devote himself to our cause. It follows that any deviance from his mission, in either motive or deed, will be viewed as a break in this argument. The immunity would be terminated and the fate of the three victors determined by the law of District Thirteen. As would his own. Thank you."

Shit, I thought. Dame loopholes.

.o0o.

Siobhan's POV

I soak my body in thick layer of bubbles in the tub. Even though I took a bath this morning, President Snow has requested to see me for dinner. He is using me to put out the flames of the rebellion. What other choice do I have? War was never my decision. From what I know, the rebellion would disrupt the balance of humanity. Just a week after remake Snow shoved the numbers of the population of Panem after District 12 bombing. All this information divided for each district, for each group of ages, and etc. And every week he shows me the charts and all the numbers decrease rapidly. The numbers in the underdog districts dropping rapidly compare to the minimum of the volunteers of District 2 who are peacekeepers.

So here I am for the second bath, cleaning my body to Capitol approval. With my body artificially mended from the silk hair that was once acid-damage, sunburned skin now fair and devastating scars scrubbed off to flawless skin. The prep team work deliberate hard to keep my body towards perfections. However as each week goes by my stomach started to show changes after the first month. I run my fingers over my stomach. So far it looks I gain a few bonds, but in a few more weeks I'll be showing the little one inside me.

Anyway, President Snow ordered my remake to be Beauty Base Zero. Turns out Beauty Base Zero is what every tribute goes through. How the individual would appear flawless. In other words, nails trimmed and polished. Hair softy and clean to a point it shines, but not styled. Skin smoothed and cleans no paint or dies. Body completely wax for no hairs or skin damage. A simple clean look without any enhancement.

The same look Cinna advised.

With a sigh, I rinsed my body, and slowly got out of the tub with Octavia help, including attaching the prosthetic leg. She wraps me in a towel, though the excited woman has changed. In her artificial eyes you can see hesitation and doubt. She and the others don't know the precise reasons in what is going on, but knew they have to follow orders or be fired like Cinna. When they think of fire, they think of prison do to the rebellions.

Flavius and Venia enter the room holding out a robe and undergarment. Putting the undergarments on, including robe I was escorted to the makeup room to be prepared for the day. No one spoke a word as Flavius work on my eyebrows, Venia on my hair, and Octavia did my nails. Once they got the basic essentials, the girls put a fair amount of makeup, only my eyes were slightly heavy and lips slightly a different shade.

The dress I wore is a nude and silver cocktail dress. The dress appeared clean, crisped with elegant beading including cap sleeves. The silver beading shine bright around the neckline, details of embroidery of blooming flowers, swirls, and leaves detail of beads, crystals, and pearls. A modest simple dress, nothing like Cinna would create, for this wasn't his work. Cinna would never make things to modest, or the countless use of jewels for a simple gown. In the end, as I put the dress on it felt snug a little on the midsection.

Once the shoes and jewelry are one, a peacekeeper escorted me out of the twelfth floor and down the elevator. At first I thought there is a car waiting at the entrance, except the elevator stop at the first floor. District One. The doors slid open to reveal a very luxuries floor of fine architecture, crystals chandeliers, and glass. The floors made out of marble, curtains of the finest material, and tables carved out of mahogany.

"Ah, Siobhan, just on time." President Snow said as I enter the floor. President Snow wore a deep crimson velvet suit that had black trim. His signature white rose rested on his pocket chest contrasting out of the red base it blip on.

"President Snow," I replied.

"You look lovely this evening." President Snow complimented. "You with child actually make you glow instead of the foundation."

"Why thank you, sir," I said simply.

"Have a seat," he gestured pulling out a chair for me to sit on. Cooperating, I oblige as I took a seat which he forcefully pushed me close to the table, before he took his own chair.

Three Avox's came serving the first course of food, Broccoli-Cheddar Soup inside a bread bowl. President Snow seemed discrete, quiet than normal which had me on edge. The next course was candied salmon with sweet and sour salad. Still no response, just the sounds of food being consumed. When the entre came of herbed chicken in pastry Snow finally started a conversation.

"How are your sketches?" he asked.

"They are going well, though it is hard to concentrate when having a guard breathing down your neck." I answered.

"A minor precaution." Snow replied. "I can't risk any information being secretly passed on."

"I don't think there is any information to pass on, other than the nuisance of morning sickness."

President Snow smirked as he took a sip of wine.

"May I ask why I am here?" I asked.

Snow put the wine glass down, "For your company. I'm sure Mr. Odair doesn't keep you much company."

"He knows good lie-detection games." I murmured.

"Then let make this so much simpler if we agree not to lie to each other." He said. ". "What do you think?"

"It's impossible to lie to you, sir." I said. "It would be considered signing my own death warrant."

President Snow nodded as he cut into his food. "I have a problem, Siobhan. A problem that has increased rapidly after Mr. Hawthorne shot the arrow into arena force field electricity, causing a circuitry malfunction which the rebels rescue the other tributes. If I known Plutarch Heavenbee was a rebel, I would had him executed and terminated the entire arena killing all you tributes . . .maybe spare one for the peoples sake. Sadly we both been played by him and your mentor Haymitch Abernathy and here we are, face to face. I except you can guess where the others are."

"District Thirteen . . ." I answered.

"After that fiasco, there was nothing left to do but keep you, Finnick, and Enobaria alive. And you are very cooperative these past few months. That whole loyalty-love, zealous partner routine. Impressive. Truly. How you can adapt to both logic and emotions into a monologue, it's impossible to tell if you have been in love with Mr. Hawthorne or not. Then again, you Underwood have come from a long line of deception. You convinced the people in The Capitol. Unfortunately, not everyone in the districts fell for it. I mean, you can't know that but in several of them, peopled viewed your interview with Cesar Flickerman an act of treason. Not as an act of morality. And if a boy from District 12 of all places can defy The Capitol and walk away unharmed and with his love being damage? Hawthorne has challenged The Capitol upon our word or order and just. What is to prevent them from doing the same? We are too late to prevent an uprising that is leading to a revolution as we speak. And then, in a fraction of time, the whole system collapses."

"Must be a fragile system, if it can be brought down by an aggressive young man." I replied.

"Yes, it is, indeed." Snow said. "But not in a way we predicted."

"I know the consequences of war, sir." I said.

"Then you should imagine thousands upon thousands of rebellious people dead. Your town is already reduced to ashes. How it is gone by the element you all personify."

There was tension in my body as I grip the fork to the point you can see the bones of my knuckles. I could imagine stabbing Snow in the eye or chest with this fork with the amount of anger pumping through my veins. Yet I remain still glaring down at the meat pastry.

"You fought very hard in The Games, Miss Underwood." He murmured. "But they were games. Now we are in a real war."

He took a bite of the bird, "Tell me. At what point did he realize the depths of your affection towards him?"

"During deaths door," I muttered.

"Don't jest!"

I flinched, "Why don't you just kill me, set a hard blow on Gale and the rebels."

"I don't want to kill you. Especially when you are bearing a child," He said. As he spoke his expression alter from a serious tyrant, down to a moral man. He knows killing a fetus is wrong, also the unborn child that went through the games. The child that The Capitol already loves and adores. Then there us understanding the political if not devastation that war would lead to. More lives lost, the human population decreasing, and more importantly the unsatisfaction of the end. "I want us to be friends. But if not friends, then allies. General Justinian Wallace knew how the Dark Days would end. And instead of accepting the victory he ran away with certain classified information."

"Who?" I asked confused.

"Hmm. Seems your family has not told you the details of your heritage. Justinian Wallace is the man who signed legal documents to bombed district thirteen, and let them hide in the ground like vermin. He is your third great grandfather."

I gasped . . . I knew JW from his journals but not that. President Snow reveals a smirk as he took another bite.

"I know who you are and what secrets you hold. Let's hope the rebels doesn't find out or you and your uncle would be in danger." He said. "So when you go on stage to promote the cease-fire, you need to smile. You need to be grateful. But, above all, you need to convince the rebels that war is the destruction of Panem. You think you can manage that?"

"I'll try," I whispered looking into those serpent eyes.

"Yes, what?"

"I'll convince them."

"Good." He murmured. "Or District 8 shall join the fire that Gale Hawthorne created."

That is right; the past week District Eight has been going through raids, being destroyed by bombs after each retaliation. The district Woof and Cecilia once lived. As I thought of Cecilia, I wonder if her children are still alive . . . or are they dead. From the information that is given many victors were either executed or arrested on siding either end of the army. Finnick and Enobaria tried to keep count on the victor population, except it is hard to identify who is on whom? There are no neutral parties.

"Your food is getting cold," President Snow announced.

Hesitantly I took a bite of the dish. The herbs are sweet and delicate with the creamy souse, the pastry flaky that it practically melts in your mouth. However the meat tasted off. It doesn't taste like chicken, turkey, quail, or duck. The texture a bit tough that of red meat, but this is poultry . . . isn't?

"May I ask what we are eating?" I whisper quietly.

"Mockingjay," was his answered, taking another bite.

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I know it has been a while. Been busy with other story and classes so bear with me. What do you guys think? Got a clue from Siobhan's heritage thanks to Snow. There will be more clues coming up later.

Thanks for reading and please leave a review.

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