Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged

Disclaimer: I do not own Hunger Games

Chapter 25: The Warning

Blaine's POV

I was able to get a hold of Katniss before the prep team, and Cinna arrived to prepare for the first half of the Ceremony and crowning. It has been three days since President Snow's capsicum stunt. It took ten hours for the capsicum to ward off. But luckily, Effie came for a visit and told me a better way to get rid of a spicy mouth was with something with milk. For once, the woman was a genius, as I consumed whole milk, yogurt, and ice cream until all was settled. However, my neck was red, so I wore a scarf or a turtle neck.

When I entered her room, Katniss wore a yellow dress, and I asked her to follow me. She was initially cautious but complied when I took her to the roof, where we had some privacy. We watched the sunset when the city noises filled the air. Impossible for hidden microphones to hear the conversation we're about to discuss.

"They're not happy with you," I said calmly.

"Why?" Katniss replied sarcastically. "Because I didn't die?"

"No." I breathed, leaning against the rail and looking straight at her with a severe face. "Because you showed them up."

"Well, I'm sorry it didn't go the way they planned." Katniss apologized halfheartedly, not realizing the situation. "I'm not very happy with them either."

"Damn it, Katniss!" I burst out for her to shut up. "This is serious. It's not just you, they aren't happy. They don't take these things lightly."

Katniss stopped and looked at me with concern. I sighed and rubbed my throat to show her the red swelling mark where the capsicum was injected. Her eyes widened, now getting her attention. I grabbed the silk scarf and wrapped it around my neck to cover it up.

"Haymitch will tell you more later," I informed her. "You must do everything that he says and not resist. Tonight will be the overview, three hours of watching the game. This will be hard, but you must stay strong and keep the act."

"You mean stay in love with Peeta?" Katniss asked.

"Yes," I answered, though scowled. "Katniss, what you did in the arena was brilliant and cruel. I don't like what you did to Peeta, using him when he actually cares about you. You realize the position you put yourself in when he figures it out."

Katniss looked at me, confused, and I sighed. "Haymitch is your mentor."

With that said, I headed back inside.

.o0o.

I pulled the garment bag out of the closet to see the outfit Cinna had created for the Ceremony. It was a black dress with a natural waistline and a sheath skirt. It has a plunging V-neckline with golden mesh detailing that ends with a high neckline illusion. It has a center slit that travels all the way to the thighs. I was thankful for the neckline mesh covering most of the redness. The rest I put on foundation and powder. After putting on the dress and a pair of golden heels,

I started doing my makeup. I sat by the vanity, applied a glamor foundation to make my skin glow, then created a smoky look with golden details around my eyes. And lastly, apply deep wine-red lips stick. Next was my hair, grabbing some mousse to give volume. It wasn't my night, but Peeta and Katniss were. It was a miracle that they survived for now. To finish off the outfit with black satin and lace platforms and a golden cuff bracelet.

After one final look, I took a deep breath to see the bouquet of flowers that Seneca had sent me. My eyes water as I hold back a sob. There is no doubt that Seneca was dead. In a few days, Damon will make it seem like his death was either an accident or suicide. The man who cared for me was dead. He only wanted my love and affection, and I couldn't give it to him.

He chose to provide entertainment for the Capitol or kill Katniss on the spot. All because Katniss placed flowers on Rue. Katniss would have been dead if Haymitch hadn't convinced Seneca to change the narrative of young love. Now Seneca was dead, and I had to ensure Katniss kept the romance going with Peeta.

Poor Peeta, I thought sadly.

After taking a deep breath to fix my composure, I headed out, taking the elevator with Haymitch. I couldn't help but smirk wickedly at how well-groomed he appeared for tonight while wearing a bright red bow tie.

He noticed my smirk and scowled, "Cinna, wrestled me into this."

I couldn't help but laugh at the excuse. "Sure, sure, whatever you say." Then I held a serious expression. "You might want to tell her again. She didn't take me seriously."

Haymitch nodded. Katniss has never taken me seriously since her interview practice. The only time she listened to me was my advice on making an alliance; the rest was tossed out the window. Once the elevator reached the train floor, it was transformed to decorate for the Victor, the support team, and the mentor rising from beneath the stage. The order was the same for the past seventy-three years: prep team, escort, stylist, mentor, and finally, victors. Now it's all doubled. Due to changes, the stage crew had to improvise in creating another transport. You could just smell the sawdust and fresh paint so quickly.

I walked to the other side of the room to see Peeta sitting on a chair, waiting. He wore a blue suit while his hair gelled back. I walked up behind him to give him a peck on the temple. "Well, if it isn't lover boy."

Peeta chuckled, wiping the invisible lipstick off him. "Hey, Blaine."

I sat beside him, crossing my legs while wrapping an arm over him. "And you thought you wouldn't survive."

"Guess I was wrong," Peeta chuckled, then sighed. "How's Katniss?"

"A little bit of this and that…." I replied calmly, only to receive a severe look. I chuckled, sitting up straight. "She's fine, a bit cautious since coming out of the arena. It's normal after what you both been through… How's the leg?"

Peeta knelt down to lift his pant sleeve to expose the artificial leg. I frown, knowing all the damages that caused him to lose it. The side effects are more significant from Cato's sword, infection, and mutts. Peeta put the fabric down, covering it, "I'll live."

"Good, because I dealt with enough crybabies already," I muttered.

"Oh, and Blaine, thanks for the gifts," Peeta announced. "I appreciated the bread and mirror, but not the sleep syrup."

I raised my hands in defense, "Okay, but in my defense, Haymitch gave Katniss the sleep syrup. I was focused on getting you the medicine and food. Just be glad I got you sponsors."

Peeta nodded when the stage director announced it was showing time. I told Peeta to 'break a leg.' He sarcastically laughed, saying he had already done it. I smirked and kissed his cheek before heading toward the platform. The vibration of the crowd above us was loud, making it hard to hear. I closed my eyes to remember the last time I was under here after my game. I was empty and had to fake everything until watching the game before my eyes.

The anthem burst out through the speakers while Caesar Flickerman greeted the audience. First, the prep team went up with giddy excitement, bouncing up and down. Effie was introduced, excited that she finally got a chance to shine once more. Cinna turned around to give me a smile, and I smiled back. He doesn't know anything that is going on. How President Snow knew how I am infatuated by Cinna and such. If something happens to him, I don't know what to do.

Portia and Cinna were called to the platform and raised up. I sighed, hearing the cheers for their brilliant work in fashion. It was the second favorite thing in the Hunger games other than the tributes, the stylists. When Haymitch and my name were called, I smiled at my father. Our appearances rolled the audience to stomping that goes for about five minutes. When the audience settled down, we walked to the side and watched the two star-crossed lovers rise to the stage.

The audience's roar of excitement was deafening while the metal rattled. The two looked at each other for the first time in three days. In response to the act, Katniss ran up to Peeta and kissed him. Caesar tapped Peeta's shoulder; Peeta just shoved him away and continued to kiss Katniss. Haymitch had to walk up to the two and shove them apart. I snicker at the blush on their face before they walk up to the red velvet blush loveseat.

Now it was the hard part.

.o0o.

I stand by a corner, trying not to draw attention so Katniss and Peeta can have their fame at the Victory Banquet. I felt sorry for the two being congratulated by Capitol Officials and Sponsors. All the hands shake, hugs, and pictures being taken.

"Now, what are you doing over here?" Cinna asked, making his way over.

I smiled and looked at him, "Not trying to ruin the fifteen years of fame for those two."

Cinna chuckled and handed me a glass of champagne. "Glad they both could make it."

I took a small sip hiding my grimace. It's not that I'm angry at them. In fact, I'm happy as hell, but the action of having two victors comes with consequences. I already experienced the first taste of President Snow's wrath. I looked around the room, seeing everyone was enjoying themselves. However, one person was absent from all this. The Head Gamemaker Seneca. I took several deep breaths to calm myself and not mourn for him in public. After that dreadful day, I cried myself to sleep, yet the pain remained.

"Is something wrong?" Cinna asked.

"Nothing," I answered, plain and simple. "Nothing to worry about."

To assure him, I pecked his cheek like I do to all my clients to prove everything was alright. However, that didn't work on Cinna. He held a neutral face and looked at me sternly. His green eyes bore into mine. I looked away and focused on the star-crossed lovers when a hand grabbed me and yanked me outside into the rose garden. Being slammed to the wall.

I glared at Cinna, taking hold of his hand and pulling it at a different angle. Suddenly the unexpected happened. Cinna reversed my grasp and turned me around, shoving me to the wall and pinning my arms behind my back in a vice grip.

What the hell!

I tried to break free from his grasp, but he shoved his body to restrain all possible chances of escape. There was a hesitant gesture, and he forced me around to face him. I looked at him, bewildered by this action. That was an advanced move taught in the military and tribute training. How can a stylist know such a move?

"Who are you?" I whispered.

"You're not the only one who holds secrets," Cinna murmured, letting go of me and stepping away, his back to me, with his hand on his hips. His chest heaved as he tried to calm himself down. Was this his way of expressing that he was upset? I stood there confused, not leaving the spot. Cinna holding a secret of self-defense. He may have taken a course. But still, this action was new to me, unlike our childhood or the past month.

He dropped his arms and turned around to look at me with those green eyes. They bore into mine, and I hesitated when he stood before me, tucking a loose strand of hair out of my face, brushing his thumb against my lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what came over me. Let's pretend it never happened and go back inside."

However, we didn't move from our spot. Us being hidden in the shadows of the rose garden. His fingers brushed against my neck. My body tensed. Praying he doesn't move the collar to see the swelling burn mark on my neck. Instead, he rested it on my shoulders, the other relaxed on my face, and he leaned closer, brushing his lips against mine. The banquet music and the scent of roses filled the atmosphere. He smiles and presses into the kiss.

I tensed at first, unsure what to do, for it wasn't a client or some obsessed fan but a friend, Cinna. He pulled back and sighed, looking me in the eyes to see if he had done something wrong. Before he could say a word, I yanked him back into another kiss. He caressed my face, fingers complete with talent against my skin, and kissed back. It was firm than the last. I wrapped my arms around him, grabbing his copper hair.

A few minutes passed as we kissed in the rose garden. We pulled apart, panting, unable to make coherent words or thoughts. I am trying to figure out what was happening with Cinna and me. Do I like him? Yes! Do I love him…I don't know...I just met the guy. Cinna infuriates me more than any guy I had escorted, and it scares me. Never having an actual relationship with anyone; always distances. Frustrated by what was happening, I pushed him back and looked down.

Cinna sighed and pecked my forehead, "Forgive me. I don't know what came over me."

"Same here," I whispered.

He grabbed my hand and gave me a gentle squeeze. Afterward, he lifted up and kissed my hand like a gentleman. I blushed, unable to say as he adjusted our attire. Then lead the way back to the Victory Banquet.

"Cinna-"

Cinna turned around to kiss me again, only this time, it was a simple peck. When he pulled back, he smiled and caressed my cheek. "You set the pace. Let's start as friends first?"

I nodded, feeling the weight off of my shoulders were gone. A smile graced my lips as we headed toward the others to keep Katniss and Peeta at ease for the publicity. Some asked for autographs and a few pictures of Katniss and me together. A sponsor walked up for a photo announcing how Katniss and I contrast.

"The Girl on Fire and Lady of Ashes," The sponsor squealed. "Oh, I could see a cover between you two. District 12's female idols!"

Katniss looked at me, wary of what the deranged woman was talking about. I whispered in her ear, "Be prepared for eternal fame. It will never stop until your final breath. You'll be forever watched, and you better play the cards right. The first round was physical. The second is all about the choices you'll make."

A second warning I gave to Katniss on this very night. She looked up at me and gave an understanding nod. Katniss knew the game wasn't over and would never be over until her final breath. I took a deep breath and looked at her pin. I didn't pay much attention to her token until now. It was a golden Mockingjay holding an arrow.

I grimace for a second before turning back to our sponsors. Another source of reason why the Capitol would be angry. The Jabberjays were an utter failure during the Dark Days when they spied on the rebels. They didn't know that the Jabberjays crossed-bred with mockingbirds. An accidental reminder of the Capitol's failure to obtain control!

.o0o.

The sun began to rise from the horizon when we returned to the Training Center at district twelve's penthouse. Haymitch told me secretly to keep Katniss and Peeta separated until we were safe in District twelve. Therefore, Portia and I led him back to his room.

"What's going on?" Peeta asked.

"Nothing. You need to get some sleep before the final interview later." I assured him of partial truth, using my skills of manipulation.

I am still his mentor until after the victory tour. Peeta bought it and walked into his room. Portia looked at me in question, and I told her she should go home and get some rest. Portia looked at me confused, and I gave a tired persuasive smile. She bought it, saying she'll be back again for the final interview. Once she was gone and Haymitch secured Katniss in her room, I locked the door.

I'm sorry, Peeta. I thought. It's for the best.

.o0o.

Quietly I snuck out to unlock Peeta's door so that when Portia came, she wouldn't suspect something was amidst. I did the same with Katniss's door quietly. Afterward, I returned to my room and sat on my bed, hands covering my face while my elbows were on my knees. I was exhausted because I hadn't slept yet and couldn't. When I close my eyes or attempt to sleep, I get nightmares, Nightmares of President Snow, my game, Michael's death, and other things.

Midnight meowed and rubbed himself against my side, asking what was wrong. I didn't respond and tried to obtain the facts that had happened this past week. It was difficult to believe that both Katniss and Peeta were still alive. However, the stunt Katniss pulled angered the Capitol, and now my order was to spy on her. No one knows of the heavy burden other than President Snow. I try to comprehend insomnia all night by updating the journal to find it three-fourths full.

Only a Quarter Quells remained.

The thought of the Quarter Quells bothered me, remembering the poem from JJ. A warning, but of what I do not know.

I fell on my back and stared at the ceiling. Midnight crawled onto my stomach and rested his head on my chest. He purred, swaying his tail softly while licking his sandpaper tongue on my fingers. I sighed and petted his black fur. It wasn't long before sleep overcame me as I closed my eyes.

.o0o.

I was in an opulent neoclassic room. The lighting was dark and mysterious, for the source came from the tall black candelabra in the four corners. The fragrances of roses and blood consumed the atmosphere making it dark and fearful. In the center of the room was an elegant crystal bowl on a bronze table. My legs seemed to move forward slowly as I fought the instinct to turn around and leave. When I looked inside, I didn't see Nightlock berries that once took a claim in this glass.

No, inside was a dark liquid, elusive to tell its color. My heart accelerated, pounding against my rib cage, wanting to escape the darkness in this room. However, my body refused to comply as I dipped my hand into the bowl. Liquid warm and thick: thicker than water. I stiffened, knowing what it was and wondering whose. Slowly removing my hand to see crimson slide down my fair hand and stain it red. The essences of blood and death.

Fear consumed my entire being as I stepped back and ran to the door pounding on it. Screaming from the top of my lungs to let me out! Let me out of this room and out of this madness. The doors wouldn't budge, so I ran to the window to see if it could open. There were no signs of a latch, so I grabbed a candelabra. Striking it against the window, except it didn't shatter. Every time the glass cracked, it returned to its original form.

"Let me out!" I screamed.

Looking into the window, there was a reflection of President Snow. He held a deviant expression as he made eye contact through the reflection of the glass. "Hope is the only thing stronger than fear. But for you, it's the opposite."

I turned around to face him, but he was gone. I turned to face the glass to see a girl with short brown hair covered in blood. Her fur cloak was stained along with her winter clothes while she held a dagger. Her eyes were glazed in tears, while her livid eyes were puffy from crying and stress. She was me. My tribute self. When I blinked, she was gone, and something wet touched beneath my ankles.

I looked down to see the room begin to flood from an unknown source. My heart pounded hard and fast while the room shrunk ever closer. Panic filled me, for I had limited space while filling up with water. Then the water turned red. I screamed, knowing it was blood. Balling my fists, I tried to break free from these confines. I was already on my knees as the blood reached my neck.

.o0o.

I woke up from a jerk to realize it was just a dream. A horrible nightmare as I looked into Haymitch's livid eyes. He looked at me, a bit concerned, before stepping back so I could sit up. I grabbed my head and groaned, hating myself for these damn nightmares.

"Bad dream," Haymitch noted.

"Yeah," I breathed, sitting up and going to the closet to pull out an outfit for the last day in the Capitol. "What's the plan?"

"Keep Katniss and Peeta apart until the interview," Haymitch said, gulping his flask.

It might seem we aren't taking things seriously, but we are bent on keeping our new victors alive. Watching them all the time in case they ruin our cover. Peeta doesn't know what is happening, and I intend to tell him after we get back to Twelve. It's not right to keep him in the dark. Not when it's a life-or-death situation. Guess the lover boy grew on me, a little brother in a way.

Haymitch excused himself as he left so I could change. I decided to wear my signature color, black. The dress is off-the-shoulder with textured detail at the shoulders. The bodice and skirt are smooth and fitted. The skirt has a column silhouette and a midi-length hem.

It was nice wearing metallic colors in this year's game; however, black forever imprinted on me. Seeing my neck was still red, I applied makeup, careful not to get it on the dress. With finished touches of makeup and hair, I walked out to find Peeta and Katniss talking to him by the window.

I glared at Haymitch, and he shrugged before speaking with Caesar. The last interview was kept private and recapped in the Flickerman show, so the audience won't go insane. But there was more to it. It was to edit out emotional actions of post-traumatic stress disorder or violence being performed. No one in the Capitol wanted to see their Victor weak.

"Hello, Blaine," Cinna greeted as he stood beside me.

"Hey, Cinna," I replied, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall.

"Rumor has it that you have a concert the following month."

"Yes," I answered. "I have a tour for the entire summer. Interviews, concerts, fundraisers, the whole shebang."

"Busy schedule then," Cinna murmured. "Effie must be putting a lot of effort into it."

"More than needed," I muttered. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious since Portia and I would be your designers," Cinna announced.

I smiled. It was small, but I like the idea of seeing Cinna again after this interview. "Flames?"

"No, I'm thinking differently for you," Cinna whispered in my ear. "Something that will get you out of the dark."

"What if I like the dark," I murmured.

"You don't," Cinna countered, pulling back and walking towards Portia.

Words were lost from Cinna's statement. How does he know this? It's like he knows me better than myself. This intrigued and worried me. If he shows signs of being a threat, then there would be consequences. I've been trying to prevent this from happening by playing this game for the last five years. Before I could ask him, the director asked for silence to start the interview. Grumbling under my breath, I stood next to Haymitch and watched this lie being performed.

Caesar and the two victors sat in the sitting room. Katniss sat formally on the couch until I shook my head and made a hand gesture to get closer to Peeta. Katniss noted this by tucking her feet up while Peeta pulled her close to him. I gave a nod of approval and kept a stern watch. Caesar did recaps keeping the discussion easy with jokes and teases while choking up on specific topics. Everything from the first interview with Peeta to the present day. It wasn't long before Caesar started asking questions.

"How did you feel when you found him by the river?" Caesar asked Katniss.

"I felt like the happiest person in the world," Katniss answered, making Caesar sigh, and Peeta smiled. "I couldn't imagine life without him."

Haymitch gave a huff with relief while I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"And what about you, Peeta?" Caesar asked.

"She saved my life," Peeta replied, holding Katniss's hand.

"We saved each other," she corrected. The camera crew was in awe at this exchange while I scowled. They continued the interview when Caesar mentioned Peeta's new leg. This surprised Katniss, so she reached out and pulled the bottom of Peeta's pants. She gasped at the sight of the artificial leg that even shook Caesar. Once that was resolved, the buzzer rang for final discussion. Caesar stood from his seat and pointed at the two victors.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the star-crossed lovers from District 12," Caesar exclaimed happily. "This year's victors of the 74th Annual Hunger Games!"

Caesar signed off, and it was done. Everyone was laughing, crying, or hugging over the romantic show. Katniss came up to Haymitch and me, whispering, "Okay?"

"Perfect," Haymitch answered.

"For now," I added.

Katniss nodded as she headed to her room. Goodbyes were cut short with our team. Cinna gave me a quick hug sliding something into my pocket. I ignored the gesture and picked up my purse that held my things. Midnight's head popped out and meows for attention.

"It was nice meeting you, Midnight," Cinna told the cat, petting his head. Midnight purred in contempt and licked the stylist's hand.

I adjusted the purse. "For the first time, this cat likes a capitol citizen."

"Maybe you should look deeper than what you see," Cinna stated before congratulating Katniss.

I stood there dumbfounded that I could absorb the burn I had gotten. Haymitch smacked my back, snapping my back to reality. I sighed and looked at my father with a smile. We finally did something together and helped our tributes in surviving another day. Now we have to see their reaction to the reminder ride of the Victor's tour.

.o0o.

"Where's the ice?" Haymitch asked, going through the ice bucket.

"Getting a refill," I replied, writing in my journal about what happened today. "You can hold it for ten minutes."

Haymitch grumbled as he sat next to me in the bar car. We were lucky to escape Effie, who decided to accompany us back on the train. To hear this was utter torture for Haymitch and me. Not that we don't like her, she just gets annoying.

"How's the writing?" He asked.

"Other than poor grammar and fragments," I muttered.

Haymitch snorted and sipped his brandy. "Doesn't stop what I think, Sweetheart."

"I'm your daughter; you have to think about me."

"You're definitely my daughter, that's for sure." Haymitch muttered, scratching his chin.

"And you're my father," I said, putting the journal down. "And I love you."

"I love you, too." He sighed and looked out the window. "I wish your mother would see what a woman you have become."

"I'm sure she's proud of us, dad," I said, getting up and sitting beside him. "And probably wanted to smack you every time you hold a bottle."

Haymitch chuckled and rubbed my head. "You're right. Lucy was the one who got me out of this."

I chuckled and nodded. It has been over ten years, and it feels like she's still here with us. My mother was a Geologist. I rested my head on dad's shoulder while we mourned quietly. Mom was a sensitive topic for both of us when we were alone. The attendant returned with fresh ice, and Haymitch made himself a drink of scotch. But he made two instead of one, handing the other to me.

"I still owe you a drink." He murmured. Memories of my last day in the seventy-first hunger came back. I snorted and took the glass. We toasted and sipped our beverages. "To a new victory!"

"Yeah, another day of hell," I translated.

"I'm thinking of retiring," He announced.

"What!" I exclaimed this was new.

"I had enough of this game. We have Katniss and Peeta. Our district can be fine."

"Dad," I protested.

I have never done these games as a mentor without him. Even with our failures in the past, he tried to lend a finger.

"Blaine," he countered. "Someday, you'll understand."

I nodded and took a gulp of scotch. Maybe I will, and perhaps I won't understand. My life was unlike the other victors, for only a few knew the truth. But one thing was for sure. I was definitely Haymitch Abernathy's daughter. And our motto is simple:

Stay alive

Thus concludes Part 1: The Mentor. I hope you have enjoyed Part 1 with all the changes that have been made.

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!