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The rose weighed in Dove's hand. It twirled gracefully between her fingers, radiating such innocence that nobody could never tell the amount of blood it carriedā€”the lives lost in the roots, the ones tarnished by its thorns, and the selected few that were displayed on each petal, gripping onto them for dear life, hoping to never wither and fall off its graces.

A petal fell onto her palm, a yellowy colour replacing the usual pearly white. It shone brightly under the sunlight, much too similar to her brother's hair. Dove had to gulp down her sorrow at the sight of her brother's futureā€”the lonely and crumbling fate of a petal, the new toy, a beauty that would eventually wither into despair.

"I don't care what the Hunger Games are for." Dove raised her eyes, meeting President Snow's stone cold gaze with burning confidence. "All I know is that they took my brother away from me, and if I'm not careful they'll take my sister too, and this time they won't give her back."

President Snow chuckled and bent forward just so slightly. "Interesting. For someone who's life is directly threatened by them, you seemā€¦ how would I say it?ā€¦ Unaffected."

"I must admit that my safety has never been my top priority," she replied.

"Very well." President Snow sighed, as if there had been something disappointing in what she had said. "Another mystery, it's sad to admit."

Dove frowned by instinct. "Excuse me?"

"Now, Miss Ogilvy, I refuse to believe you haven't notice yet." He smiled, showcasing his pearl white teeth, which Dove was positive it could twist anyone's insides. "All about you, all that you are, is a mystery."

She was quick to reply, "A living person can never be a mystery."

"One would think so, isn't that right?" His thin and dried lips contorted further, and through that nightmarish depiction of a smile, he carried on. "Unfortunately, you've proven to be the exception to the norm repeated times. After all, wouldn't you consider a mystery that a child seemingly materialised out of thin air ten years ago?"

"I would consider them unlucky," said Dove.

"Indeed." President Snow nodded. "Such a young child, one starved for attention and care too. It would be so simple to push them into going to any extent without a second thought. Give them a few kind words and a place to call home and they would gladly lay their life on the line for you."

Dove gulped down the million responses she would like to give to such a mocking statement, but she couldn't risk getting killed off too soon. "I apologise, sir, but could we get back to the matter about my sister?"

"Of course, where are my manners?" President Snow composed himself immediately, his hands intertwining over the table as if it were his own, as if the room they were in, the house, and even her loved one's lives belonged to him. "As you might have noticed, I've never been too fond of uneven outcomes. Two consecutive victors from the same district, I tolerate, more so when it comes to suchā€¦ let's say profitable people, as your brother and Mister Odair are. A third one has never been in my plans." Before she could complain, he had already raised a hand, claiming her silence with that simple gesture. "However, I would be willing to allow a third consecutive victor from District Four under very specific circumstances."

Dove frowned. "Which circumstances?"

"Nothing you should worry about." His smiled widened. "Only a mere deal."

"I was under the assumption that only victors had deals," she said.

President Snow shook his head right away. "A deal requires for both parties to have something useful to provide to the other. It just so happens that what I need, often only victors can provide."

"So why me?" she asked.

"Because you're useful to me, Miss Ogilvy," he replied. "Believe it or not, there's something only you can do. A kind of job that fits such a young and fragile creature like youā€”Entertainment."

While tugging on her sleeves, Dove scratched the inner fabric. Think, she told herself. What could 'entertainment' mean? Why would President Snow mention it in such an ambiguous way? Even if it all was a game for him, what good would come from a pawn that had no idea what its orders were? Then it landed on her, she wasn't a pawn, or rather not yet. President Snow was awarding her with the closest eye-to-eye situation she had ever lived. He gave her clues to his plans, and she deciphered them. To him, she was no hopeless idiot that had to be protected, but someone who could keep up with his schemes. And while struggling not to give him more credit than he deserved when he was threatening her family, Dove couldn't help but notice the downside of their sudden equal footingā€”President Snow was testing her to know how valuable she was, how far could she understand, and therefore, how dangerous she could be.

Though witnessing someone be deep in thought had to be the most uneventful moment of the conversation, President Snow seemed to enjoy watching her try to figure out what he meant. Her eyes travelled from her hands, to the rose, and all the way back to his face; each second that passed with lesser confidence.

After much thought, Dove could only recall one situation in which she could 'entertain' somebody, likely, if President Snow requested it, the Capitol. "I've never sung in front of a crowd."

"I hear District Four has quite a successful black market that provides shows every so often," replied President Snow. "They might not be the refined Capitol elite crowd, but they'll do just fine to practice."

She nodded calmly. "Will I have to volunteer next year for the reaping? Or shall I wait a couple of years until the idea of me winning the Hunger Games is plausible?"

That made President Snow laugh. "Are you perhaps not confident on your own abilities, Miss Ogilvy? It's truly a shame, but I'm afraid I already told you, I'll allow a third consecutive victor from District Four under strict circumstances. One of them states the victor can only be you."

"In exchange for what?" Dove asked, her sleeves a few minutes away from giving in to the constant scratching. "If I volunteer next year will the Hunger Games be rigged so I'll surely winā€¦ sir?"

"Of course not, Miss Ogilvy, the odds could be in anybody's favour." President Snow grinned. "Once you volunteer for your sister when she's reaped, you'll have to use your own abilities just like the other tributes."

Reaped, that single word snapped Dove's attention away from her own fear and misery. In the span of a minute, the Hunger Games were the least of her concerns. Angel would be reaped the following year, President Snow knew it and used it to taunt herā€”to let her know her lack of choice. She could either volunteer and accept whatever fate lay in store for her, or become the coward that allowed her sister to go to the Hunger Games for no other reason than to die.

"I trust I haven't overestimated you," said President Snow. "Unfortunately, I can't get into the details of your deal unless you accept. As an encouragement to ease your decision, if you were to not volunteer, your sister would surely perish tragically in the Hunger Gamesā€”I'd make sure of it."

Devoid of strength, her arms fell to her sides, part of the sleeves's inner stitching hanging by a thin thread. "No. Please, don't hurt her. I'll volunteerā€¦ But I won't survive. I can't win the Hunger Gamesā€¦ It's impossible."

"Is it so?" asked President Snow. "However, I believe in you, Miss Ogilvy. I trust that you'll survive." At the lack of reply, he carried on. "Are you perhaps disappointed? I thought you would want to hear those words."

Dove kept her lifeless stare as she said, "I don't mean to sound rude, sir, but I didn't want to hear them from you."

"Then you would die without having heard them once," replied President Snow.

She shrugged it off as if it were nothing. "Then I would die knowing the truth."

"Nothing in this world is as black and white as you may think," said President Snow with his usualā€”and so far uncomfortableā€”smile. "Back to the topic of your deal, it won't be in my power whether you live or die. However, if you do win the Hunger Games, I feel generous enough to include a few perks that benefit you into our deal."

There he was fading back to silence, letting her process his every word, muster the energy to try and decipher beyond what she was being told. Dove racked her brain, yet she couldn't think of anything that could benefit her. She had already accepted to go in a suicidal mission for the sake of her sister's survival. If she were to survive, then she would be fitted into a cage, forever displayed for the enjoyment of the Capitol. What perks could there be to a unlucky bird that had given up its hope to fly away?

"Perhaps you haven't noticed yet, but the Capitol has a great infatuation with victors. They often appear desirable to the finest Capitol people. And once they have their eyes set, I'm unable to do anything other than to give in to their inquisitive desires. Therefore, I believe it would do us both good that you're not perceived as such for the time being." President Snow leaned forward, his chin resting on his intertwined hands as his smirk died down. "That's why we must use your pale body to our advantage. After all, it wouldn't be surprising for a young a fragile young lady such as yourself to be ill. Perhaps a chronic disease, but nothing too serious. We wouldn't want for it to shorten your life-span, that wouldn't benefit either of us. However, it must be, preferably, in the long run life-threatening."

"Will that be a perk or another condition to my deal, sir?" Dove asked.

Despite asking, she hardly paid any mind to the answer. Her mind was way too occupied with trying to understand what 'desirable' could mean and what relation it had to the deals of her loved ones. The way President Snow had phrased it was bad to say the least. She knew of a handful of victors that acted 'desirable' or cocky as she had preferred to call it so far, and it was maddening to think that her brother and her friend were between them.

It took her a minute to tune back in to the conversation, or rather intimidation, that she was supposed to participate in. "How can I fake an illness that doesn't exist?"

"Oh, you won't." President Snow showed her a small vialā€”with a suspicious reddish liquid insideā€”that he had taken out from his left jacket's pocket, right under his own pearl white rose. "I wouldn't recommend drinking this until you've eaten something, Miss Ogilvy. And, certainly, it would be best if no one saw it."

The vial weighed no different than the rose. It lay flat in her hand, yet the liquid would dance around. She watched it with great interest. What could it be? What could it do? She had assured that she would live to see the sunrise of the following day, yet that provided hardly any comfort.

"Before we can declare this delightful meeting over, I have one last perk to discuss with you," said President Snow, snapping her attention back once again. "You must know by now that I require for the victors to have someone left to bargain, and it's no secret that your family has close to no vulnerable relatives beyond your sisterā€”Angelique. Here's my dilemma, if you, your brother, or your mother were to commit a mistake or go against my kind offer, then I'd lose a valuable tool for three desirable victors with a single action. Now, say, how much would you be willing to sacrifice for your older sister, Miss Ogilvy?"

Dove didn't doubt or stutter when she said, "Anything."

"As expected." President Snow smiled. "Then it's settled. Your sister will be spared from any backlash as long as you may live. Nevertheless, I advise you not to take this too lightly. Any mistake your family makes could get you killed. The Capitol might be saddened for your death at first, but nobody is remembered forever. Certainly not somebody who the Capitol met when the person was already doomed to eventually perish due to their illness."

Despite how beneficial the perk was, Dove could hardly comprehend why she was being given such an opportunity. Or rather, the comedic irony that she had been presented as her futureā€”either she could die in the Hunger Games to protect part of her family or would eventually die due to her own family's mistakes.

President Snow took the book that he had previously been reading and left it back at its place by the nearby bookshelf. "I must remind you that this deal will take place after you have won the Hunger Games. If you were to die, before, during or after the Games, the deal with cease to exist. Is that understood?"

Dove nodded immediately. "Yes, sir."

"Oh, and since we're on the subject of light warnings." He turned around, his hands intertwined over his stomach as they often were during his Tribute Parade speeches. "I won't stop you from continuing your midnight meet-ups with Finnick Odair, but it would be wise to put some distance between the both of you in public. He's a wonderful boy, alas highly desired in the Capitol. If he were, let's say, admit publicly to have an infatuation with you, undesired attention could go your way."

When the horrifying reality had dawned on Dove, she accepted President Snow's suggestion with resigned complaisance. She couldn't be more glad that she hadn't asked Finnick all of the questions that had ran rampage in her mind back then, though President Snow had found out about her knowledge regardless. That could likely be the best outcome to the madnessā€”Finnick hadn't been punished because of her. She hadn't compromised his loved one's lives by asking unnecessary questions.

"Ah," mumbled President Snow, as if he had truly just remembered something. "It would be best not to tell anybody about our deal, Miss Ogilvy. Not even Mister Odair."

Regret swung to her lungs upon meeting her sister's eyes on the way out. The short-lived Capitol visit had left Angel fidgeting with her pearl necklace, a great contrast to Dove, who had to keep a decent smile while hiding the vial in her pocket. They wished the Capitol people a safe travel and waved them goodbye as a car appeared out of nowhere, only to disappear the next instant.

Any trace of the Capitol had been gone for longer than it had been in their home when Angel finally turned to face her little sister. Dove's gaze was glued to the street, as if she awaited the car to appear at any moment, but it never did. She wasn't shaking as it had been expected, rather her expression was as still as a doll's. Her left hand fidgeted with something in her pocket, the single confirmation that she still had some notion of reality, however slim it were.

Angel wrapped her arms around her little sister, bringing her into a protective hug, but never achieving to detach Dove's eyes from the street. "What did he want?"

It took a minute for Dove to reply. "He watched the Victor Tour Family Interviews and got worried about me. Something about my face looking too exhausted for what would be normal. Capitol stuff, you know? Better not stress over it."

"Capitol stuff." Angel repeated under her breath, though not too convinced. "Dove, if there was something going on, you'd tell me, right?"

"Why wouldn't I?" asked Dove, her head shaking lightly the moment she sneaked away from the hug. "Come on, Mags will be worried out of her mind for us. Besides, I should really be getting something to eat. The downside of being young and frailā€”your health hangs by a thread."

Dove stared at her sister with pleading eyes, but Angel didn't understand the gesture and dimmed it a joke. In all honesty, it wasn't as if the clues she had given were visible landmines, ratherā€”for someone who knew nothing of what had been discussed within the studyā€”it appeared as nothing more than a punctual sting.

They spoke close to nothing on the way to Mags' house, where they were received with the utmost anxiousness. Mags had thankfully been to engrossed cooking their meal to see the Peacekeepers, but a delay of well over twenty minutes would have alerted anybody. Despite Dove keeping a well-enough grasp of reality, Angel went ahead and explained what she had been told, which to her surprise worried the victor further.

Mags kept to her chores the rest of the day, but never took her attention off Dove, no matter how many times she reassured the elder victor. That got maddening in no time for Dove. The bars around her, the golden cage that she had yet to be fitted into, got clearer through the afternoon, and, at sunset, she could swear that she could see themā€”the hopeful golden light caressed them, marking her last day of freedom.

The moon raised in the sky no matter how long Dove stared at it, hoping and even praying for it to stop, for time to halt at that moment, for her sister to remain in the peaceful protection of her dreams. She sat by the windowsill, watching the woods sway in the wind, turning what had always been an inviting appearance into a nightmare come alive. It had been four long years since her last visit. Four horrible years since her naive dreams began perishing one by one. She couldn't let the last one go too. Dove couldn't let her sister go, no matter the price.

"The odds are in anybody's favour." Her hands shook to their core as she opened the vial. "I can do this. I have to do this. For Angel."

With silent tears running down her flushed face, Dove chugged down the vial and threw it out of the window before her lungs collapsed and alerted everyone. She fell to her knees beside the windowsill, a hand over her mouth as she coughed the first few minutes away. Angel and Mags were quick to jump to her aid, rather wobbly at the abrupt and horrifying wake-up call, yet they were solely in time to witness Dove coughing out blood.