Chapter 51: Illusion of Choice

"This is it." Faline mumbled under her breath. Finally, her nerves had taken hold of her.

With a shaky breath, she looked at Sera with teary eyes and took labored breaths. A timer behind her ticked away as she started to shake.

"This is it." Sera repeated with a sad smile before pulling her close and engulfing her into a hug. "I'm sorry."

Sorry that it wasn't Faline, she'd picked.

Sorry that if it was any other year, she'd fight tooth and nail to bring her back.

Pulling back, Sera patted her shoulder and stood back. Faline's eyes teared up as she glanced at the small tube behind her. The tube that would take her to the arena.

"No tokens from home?"

"Tokens are useless, unless I can use them in the arena but I can't, can I?" Faline asked with a wry smile.

"No, they'll confiscate it like they did to the girl from District One. She had a ring from back home." Sera thought that girl was stupid but she didn't let her judgment leak into her words with Faline. "Twist the gem and a poisoned spike comes out, not the first time someone's tried that."

"She must've played stupid and said she had no idea." Faline tugged on her sleeve and jacket.

"Yeah, she did."

"Then I guess the token that girl from Twelve had was also rejected. It was a pin and maybe a pin can be used as a weapon."

"It wasn't." Sera didn't really remember a token on Katniss. She couldn't even picture it but she did hear about it. "It was a close call and there was a lot of back and forth before the board allowed it but barely. I have a feeling they'll be keeping an eye out on her."

Nodding her head, Faline rubbed her eyes and stared back at Sera with a blank face. "...Probably because the pin's a mockingjay pin." Her voice came out muffled and quiet but Sera could hear it crystal clear.

"What."

"Yeah, it was a gold mockingjay."

Blood rushed to her head and she felt her heart drop for a second as her mouth dried up. "N-no." Her voice came out strangled.

"Yes. I remember what I saw." Faline didn't take back what she said. "It was a gold mockingjay. I remember it. Gold is…well expensive. She wore it at the station. I saw it and thought she might be well off—"

"But she's not." Sera said quietly but her heart was hammering against her chest.

Faline never stood a chance.

"A gold pin is not cheap." Sera nodded at Faline's words. "It might be a gift. Why are you so focused on her? Since the start–"

"I'm not." Sera replied softly. Of course Faline had noticed. She'd be a fool if she didn't notice. "I'm just…looking out for you and your competition. That girl will be a bigger problem than the Careers."

"So you say." Her cat-like amber eyes trained on Sera in silent judgment.

She didn't trust her mentor anymore but what was the point? The heavy silent countdown behind her told her enough, she didn't have a choice regardless of what she felt. Sera was all she had to fall back on.

"I meant what I said. It was a mockingjay." She might as well tell Sera all she knew.

Sera smiled thinly and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Maybe you were mistaken. It was probably a mockingbird."

"It wasn't." Faline wouldn't back down. "I know what I saw. The footage is out there you can rewatch it to your heart's content…just…just do it after the games are done until then—"

"You're my priority no matter what, Faline."

Somehow, Sera's words made Faline chuckle. How grim was her life? She never stood a chance. She knew from the start but it did sting a little to know her mentor had her eyes on another the whole time. A bitter and painful truth for Faline to swallow.

Faline turned her back on Sera to get another look at the countdown, missing Sera's look of pity on her. "So water, shelter and food?" She echoed back to the start of what Sera had once told her.

"You find water, you'll find food and shelter is something you might have to make. I hope you paid close attention to those lessons on making shelters and setting up tents in the training sessions."

Under her breath, Faline repeated Sera's words, drilling them into her mind. At least, Sera hadn't completely abandoned her.

"I'm sorry." Was all Sera could offer her.

Her tribute stumbled back and swallowed her oncoming tears painfully. "Is that all you have to say to me?"

There was a lot Sera could've said. The truth was one of them. But she forced herself to smile and patted Faline's shoulder and watched as her bright eyes dimmed.

Drawing her lips into a thin line and with a blank gaze, she stared at Faline. "Don't go for the Cornucopia when the timer ends, you'll be caught in the bloodbath. Be quick and if you're lucky someone might leave you something when they die. Take it and run. No matter what you do, don't stop running. Don't look back, find water and you'll find food."

There was nothing more Sera could offer or give Faline. Hope was definitely not one of them. It was better to be cold and detached than kind and gracious, for her and for Faline. She only hoped Faline wouldn't resent her anymore than she probably did.

"And Faline," Faline looked up at her. "It's okay to make mistakes, happens a lot in there. No one will know if you do something you're not supposed to or stumble. It's all part of the…game."

It took Faline a second before she understood what Sera meant and stiffly nodded with labored breaths.

Faline absorbed her words. "I won't be coming back, will I? I kn—"

She didn't even manage to finish before Sera pushed her into the tube as the timer finished counting down.

Her wide cat-like eyes and horror-stricken freckled pale face was burned into her mind as she was lifted out of Sera's sights.

Like she was in a trance, she walked straight out of the room and into the cold empty metal maze-like hall. She spotted Cecelia hunched over on the floor, her head between her hands as she sobbed quietly. That one never did get used to the cold harsh reality of being a victor or maybe being a mother had made her soft.

Sera didn't know.

It took her a second of watching Cecelia from Eight before she spotted Beetee outside the room for Three. If her memory served her well, Three bad the biggest disadvantage that year. Their tributes were quite young with the boy being one of the youngest in that year's games.

Beetee's gaze was turned to the floor, his glasses on top of his head as he rubbed his eye with one hand. His heavy breathing echoed quietly against the halls and it didn't take him long before he noticed Sera's eyes on him.

With a brow raised, he silently stared at her in question. Sera didn't waste any time and walked over to him in the guise of providing comfort.

"It's okay, it's okay. You did your best." She said to the confused older victor only for the ears of the passing mentors and Peacekeepers.

She lowered her voice and whispered into his ears. "We need to talk."

Beetee's eyes dried up and a solemn look overtook his face before he nodded. "I'm free tonight."

"Good. I'll send a message to Plutarch too."

Pulling away, she patted his shoulder a few times while murmuring false words of comfort. Beetee stood there, resisting the urge to shake her off and nodded along. She left him only when she saw Zephyr.

She heard Emilia before she saw her. Her loud high heels clicked soundly against the smooth metal floors before it stopped. Emilia cleared her throat and waited for her to turn around.

"Your agenda for today—" Sera waved her hand into a straight line silencing her, motioning her and Zephyr to follow her to somewhere quieter in the Training Center.

"Do I have the night free?" She asked quietly, shoving her hands into the pocket of her dress. A ring poked out inside the pocket, she traced her fingers around it and looked at Emilia.

"You should." Emilia quietly replied.

"Good. Prepare a bouquet for me. I don't care who you get it from—" She paused. "Scratch that. You know where to get it from and who to send it to. I want an arrangement of ten black dahlias, three stems of rhododendron, five irises, and twenty bittersweets with some broken straw in the arrangement as well."

"That's…uh…a lot of flowers." Zephyr slowed his pace but had to speed up again, trying his hardest to keep up with her.

"It's a flower arrangement." Sera said simply and gave Emilia a sharp nod.

Taking that as a cue, Emilia departed and left Sera alone with Zephyr. "What're you up to now?" He grabbed her wrist, being careful not to touch her aching arm and stopped her. "And don't lie to me."

"I don't have a reason to lie but I-we might've been misled or lied to and I'm not happy about that."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

She shook her head just thinking about the times Plutarch kept pushing her to look at Katniss. She didn't blame the girl yet she couldn't help but feel a strange bitterness.

Plutarch lied to her. They were supposed to have an equal partnership and he lied to her. She was furious.

"Faline could've had a chance." Those words leaked out before she could stop herself. "Faline was smart."

"I don't understand why you're going on about Faline now."

But she wasn't listening. "... That pin." She gnawed at the bottom of her lips and kept repeating it.

"What pin?!"

"The one that Katniss Everdeen wore—you noticed it too, didn't you?"

"The mockingjay?" Zephyr guessed and Sera paused. Of course, he noticed. She was the only one who didn't. "I mean it's a little bold but it's mockingjay alright. Gold too—expensive. Wonder how she afforded that or maybe it's not real…" Her trailed off when he was met with her silence. "Sera?"

"So you did notice…" She breathed out sharply, her eyes trembled with rage. She was the only one who didn't see it.

"Sera?"

She needed to talk to Plutarch. That pin didn't just spring up from nowhere.

Maybe Zephyr was talking to her or maybe he'd gotten tired of begging for her attention. She didn't know or realize. Her mind was turning and she was re-setting her plans, trying to figure out if she should carry on.

Maybe Plutarch didn't lie to her.

Maybe she was careless and didn't notice.

Yes, she had been careless. Too caught up with her emotions and her plans to keep things as they were in her head. She couldn't blame anyone but herself for deluding herself that she had a choice on who the face of the rebellion would be.

She couldn't resent Katniss either. That girl would've been the best actress in Panem if she managed to lie to her like that without blinking.

That fear and anxiety on Katniss' face, she saw was real.

"I'll see you tonight." She turned on her heels and started walking away. Confused, Zephyr tried to grab onto her but she pulled away, looking over her shoulder. "I have work to do and tea with President Snow so if you let go."

Zephyr's grip loosened and he stepped back. His face was dark and eyes narrowed in on her like a hawk.

"Then I'll see you tonight." He all but spat out, annoyed that she wasn't making sense let alone telling him what was on her mind.

With a quiet nod, Sera left him there standing in the corner of the lobby at the Training Center.

Night fell quicker than usual. President Snow canceled on her last minute and she had no choice but to kill her time with something else. Though she was arguably annoyed at another setback.

The tea that she'd prepared for the President from flowers she'd grown remained untouched in the ornate silver jar in her bag.

She was almost tempted to burn the tea but President Snow had taken a liking to the strong rose flavor. It only spurred her more to burn and destroy the tea. A petty move on her part. Still she needed these dried leaves and petals.

"I got your flowers." She heard Plutarch before she saw him. "Lovely arrangement, a little dark, still very beautiful even though the meaning was harsh. I don't know what I deserved to get something with such awful meaning when I've been nothing but good to you."

"Beetee and Zephyr might not make it since their tributes…didn't make it through the bloodbath, there's been some difficulties in retrieving bodies." Fulvia plainly stated.

Plutarch pulled up a chair, taking a seat across from her. Before Sera could even ask what difficulties she meant Plutarch carried on where he left off. "I couldn't help but think that maybe your flowers were a threat or a warning."

Sera smiled sweetly at him but her eyes were cold. "Aren't you perceptive?"

"And you're very condescending for someone who's been making mistakes left and right."

"Why…don't we settle down first before we trade attacks?" Fulvia cleared her throat loudly, attracting the attention of the two. "An explanation would be nice from either of you."

For a moment both the Gamemaker and the former victor stared at each other in silence.

"I never really had a choice, did I?" She took the first step, she had to because she knew Plutarch would never.

"A choice in what exactly?" Plutarch drummed his fingers against the table. "I gave you plenty of choices and everything you've done so far has been your choice."

"Has it?" She questioned, tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips in contempt. "Has it really? Let's not pretend."

"But we're not."

"That pin! That mockingjay pin!" She burst out in quiet angry hisses.

Plutarch's eyes widened for a second, recognition flashing across his dull eyes like a lightning strike.

"Don't act like you didn't have your mind made up from the start—you wanted Katniss Everdeen from the start! You acted like I had a choice or a say in this matter but did I really? No! Of course, I didn't."

"But you did."

"Did I?" Sera echoed back, rising from her seat with Plutarch's eyes following her. "Did I really? There were five other potential tributes to pick from—my tribute being one of them but you," She inhaled loudly. "You kept pushing me to choose Katniss—"

"For a reason!"

"The mockingjay pin—"

"A part of the said reason and even then I was just as surprised as you when I saw it again at the station."

She paused pacing and turned to look over her shoulder. Surprise and confusion on her face. "Again?" She echoed. "What do you mean again?"

Plutarch sighed. "And here I thought you had done your homework and studied the past games."

"I-I did."

"Did you?"

"Yes!"

"Then you'll know that the mockingjay pin's first appearance isn't this game."

It took her a few seconds to remember. A second too long and made her wish Zephyr was here but he wasn't and she didn't know why. "The Second Quarter Quell—the 50th Games." She started slowly, going back over all the games she'd studied. "District 12—"

"Maysilee Donner of District 12, Haymitch Abernathy's partner and ally." Fulvia recited, reading off her tablet.

"So Katniss wasn't your first choice." Sera guessed.

"No." Plutarch answered curtly. "Did you really think that we wouldn't have made past attempts—failed attempts to raise a rebellion. It never worked out. Before Maysilee, there was another of her relatives—I didn't bother to keep track of her and before that another from Twelve, unrelated to Maysilee. It never worked out. Maysilee got the furthest."

"She was one of the few District 12 tributes along with Haymitch to make it to the top five." Sera recounted and Plutarch nodded. "You wanted her to live."

"We all did but she made a stupid choice in the arena and decided to turn her back on one person that could've changed her fate."

"Then why didn't you or whoever was in charge pick Haymitch."

Plutarch snorted and tried to cover up a laugh. "Haymitch Abernathy as the face of a rebellion?"

Promptly, Sera shut her mouth. A younger Haymitch did not have a good image and even if she could hardly remember Maysilee, it didn't take much thinking to know Maysilee was more liked than young Haymitch.

"So Katniss Everdeen wasn't the first."

"And she won't be the last if she fails." Fulvia stated plainly without a hint of emotion.

Sera stared at her in silence, her heavy gaze boring holes into the head of the quiet assistant of the Gamemaker. She said it so easily, so nonchalant as if Katniss wasn't so young—only sixteen yet she looked so much younger.

"But there's a pattern," Sera pushed back the wave of overwhelming guilt that threatened to engulf her. "It's always Twelve, never any other district. Why is that?"

"I never said it had to be Twelve." Plutarch calmly said but the way he stared at Sera told her otherwise. "Twelve…is just preferable."

"So you wanted someone from Twelve."

"I never said that—don't put words into my mouth, Seraphine!"

"I'm just reading between the lines because if you didn't want someone from Twelve then why didn't you pick Faline!"

For a second no one spoke. Plutarch stared at her in silence before he let out a short laugh. But Sera didn't reciprocate his actions, neither did Fulvia.

With pursed lips, Fulvia patted her plump cheeks. "She…does have a point. That girl from Five seemed much smarter and was far quicker than that Katniss girl—" Plutarch turned to her sharply. "I'm just saying…"

"I have no doubt your tribute was talented but I can tell she's not gonna make it." Plutarch tried to keep his voice calm but there was an edge to his tone and manner as he eyed both his assistant and Sera. "I don't have to pull any strings to know that. Your tribute is smart, I'll give you and Fulvia that but that's the problem; she'd see through everything before we can even set up the last of our plans and she'd walk away. Katniss is smart but she's also ruled by her emotions—by the time she sees things through it'll be over."

"If she sees the bigger picture that is." Fulvia murmured and Sera looked at her with a raised brow.

"So you want a pawn?" Sera muttered and Plutarch didn't move or make a sound. That was all she needed. "You needed a pawn."

"I know what I need. I needed an equal partner to share my burden and help me cut the time to raise a rebellion so—"

"So you picked me and now you want a pawn—someone who's smart but not too smart that they'll see right through you." Sera bit the insides of her cheeks, drawing blood. "Is that why you ruled out Peeta Mellark? Because he's good with words. He'll see right through you?"

Plutarch nodded. "He's a good choice but not the best choice. Katniss is perfect, if she survives, we can start."

"But her image…she doesn't go well with intelligence or…well, elegance." Fulvia chimed in.

"We don't need elegance."

"And she's not exactly the image of the perfect leader of the rebellion."

"Not yet." Plutarch retorted. "We'll make her."

"If she gets through the games."

"Fulvia." Plutarch warned and his assistant rolled her eyes. "I know Katniss will get through it. She's skilled. I admit, her little token did put her on my list but I didn't expect much from her. She's skilled, more skilled than any other non-careers this year and I know she'll make it through."

"You'll make sure of it." Sera spat out, a little too bitter to be rational. It wasn't Katniss' fault but she couldn't help it. Faline was just as able.

"No." Plutarch replied curtly. "In fact, I'll make a bet with you. Katniss Everdeen will win the games and you'll have no choice but to accept her as the face of the rebellion and if your tribute wins, she'll be the face, though I don't think it'll be successful with her at the front. She'll turn us in the minute we let her in."

"You don't know that."

"Are you sure you're not being emotional right now?" Sera flinched, drawing back. She tried to laugh it off but Plutarch stayed still. "It's not like you to get attached so easily or maybe you knew her before she was reaped."

"I didn't."

"Ah, then you must see yourself in her." She did see herself in Faline. "But she's not you."

"I never said she was."

"But you see your younger self in her and if you do then I suggest you get your eyes checked the next time you're at the clinic for your little check-ups."

Fulvia let out choked noise and clasped her hand over her mouth.

Ignoring his assistant, Plutarch carried on. "She's nothing like you. She doesn't know how to play the game. The only thing she can do is hide and run—you pretended, acted and became someone you were not—she didn't. I was there for her Training Evaluations, nothing eye-catching, not like you—you were quite adept in throwing blades and she? All she talked about was her foraging and tracking skills—no one cares about that! It's not gonna save her in there or outside! She is not you!"

His gaze softened for a moment when he noticed the distress on Sera's face. With a quiet cough, he cleared his throat and in a soft tone, said. "Seraphine, you can't keep living in the past. You weren't like this before but lately…I don't know if you've noticed but you need to stop testing those poisons on yourself—it's messing with your head."

"You're only saying that because you still need me." Sera said quietly, her eyes trained on the floor. Fulvia let out pained breath and her heavy gaze on Sera felt overbearing.

"Yes but..." Plutarch answered honestly and hesitated, struggling to speak for a moment.

It wasn't like him to struggle for words. Plutarch was an adept speaker. His tongue was his weapon and if President Snow were to ever know what he was like, Plutarch's punishment would be to lose his tongue.

"But…I am worried." He managed to get out like a weight lifting off his chest. "I am worried, yes. I'm worried that you'll die young."

"You're worried?" Sera echoed in disbelief, turning to Fulvia to check if she heard him correctly. Even his assistant looked mildly surprised. "You're worried?" She repeated and he nodded. "You don't have to feign your concern for me."

"I'm not pretending. Is it that hard for you to believe that maybe I am concerned about you?"

"Yes. You're…you were the Head Gamemaker during my games. Everything I went through in that frozen hell was because of you!"

"It was part of my job, nothing personal and it doesn't change how I feel now."

She swallowed and shook her head. "You're just worried you'll lose a major asset before the war begins."

"Or maybe I'm truly concerned. Do you have little regard for your life?" She couldn't answer that. "I'll admit your poisons have helped us a lot from getting rid of our enemies to developing new weapons but I think we've gotten to a point where we don't need you to put your life on the line to test them on yourself."

"We never did." Fulvia said quietly.

"I didn't expect you to test them on yourself. I don't know if you're doing it as atonement for the lives you're taking or maybe…maybe you have a problem."

Problem?

"I do not have a problem!" She scoffed. "I just…I'm not cruel or stupid enough to go test them around anyone else."

"Then stop." He fired back.

She scoffed. Someone like him had no problem preaching from where he sat. She needed to be ill so they'd spare her. Yes, she was desperate and a little insane for resorting to these means to get away from those vultures in the Capitol but she'd be damned and rather lose her mind than go through the nightmare of spending another night and day with someone like Scarus. "You know I can't do that." She said softly.

"Seraphine..." She shook her head and turned away. "I'm sure President Snow won't put sell you out like that...not anymore and if does, I'll find a way to stop that."

"I don't think I can believe that."

"Think about your family at least."

"They'll be fine. They'll think my illness got the best of me."

Plutarch let out deep audible sigh. "Then I have no choice but to inform Mr Odair about…everything."

She let out a quiet gasp, her eyes widening but it was only for a second. Only for a second and her mask fell. She forced a smile on her face and put her hands on the table, leaning on it. "And what's he gonna do about it?"

"Well, nothing." He didn't know. Right, Plutarch didn't know. "But I can imagine that it'll put a strain on your newly rekindled relationship. He'd be devastated and you know, he doesn't have much."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then maybe Finnick does." Her eyes trembled and tears flooded her eyes. She turned away from him and hoped they would go away.

"Was it Zephyr? Did he tell you?"

"No one did. I guessed. I mean it when I say, stop what you're doing to yourself. Finnick Odair won't be the only one who'll be devastated by your loss and," Plutarch stood up. "I'm not sorry for leading you to choose Katniss. We needed your vote to pick her. Our 'friend' beyond the district wasn't too keen on Katniss Everdeen or anyone from Twelve."

"What's her problem with Twelve?"

"She thinks they're cowards." Fulvia answered for him. "Not that she's wrong."

But she was wrong.

Sera had nothing against Twelve but even she knew the dreary district wasn't like that by choice. None of the districts were the way they were by choice. "Twelve was almost reduced to ashes for their part in the rebellion. What did she expect them to do? Fight back with bones of their dead?"

"Well, it's not a bad idea." Plutarch quipped.

Sera rolled her eyes at his poor attempt at a joke and sat down again. He followed her actions, sitting down opposite her. "If you had your mind set then why even give me an illusion of choice? A waste of my time."

"Was it really a waste? I think it was quite productive."

"Says the one who's practically retired."

"I'm still a busy man." Plutarch reminded her with a light smile. "Besides, if everything goes to plan, I'll be back for the Quarter Quell."

"Ah, your grand finale." Sera clapped sarcastically. "But that's only if Katniss Everdeen survives."

"Which she will. You'll see that I was right."

"You'll still have a hard time controlling and molding her." Sera remarked. "I've spoken to her and I know whatever she did in that Training Evaluation left an unforgettable mark—"

"She shot at the pig we were given as part of the Gamemakers feast." Plutarch cut her off with a laugh and a wave of dismissal. "You should've seen Crane's face. I think you would've enjoyed the sheer panic and fear on everyone's face."

"You make me sound like I'm a sadist who finds enjoyment in others' pain."

"I never said you were." Sera hummed in disagreement. "I'm just saying you would've enjoyed seeing Katniss Everdeen's little stunt. I do admit you're right. I'll have a hard time molding her but we'll see how things play out."

"And Peeta Mellark?"

"A backup. He's quick but he's a little too observant."

Sera grinned sarcastically. "Now we can't have that, can we?"

"Who knows?" He mused. "I do mean it. She'll survive this. She has what it takes."

She had no choice but to stand down. Even though the bitterness from Faline being passed over was there, she couldn't do a thing to change it. Not to mention, Katniss Everdeen wasn't the choice of their other ally and that only made Sera begrudgingly accept the girl.

She'd accept Katniss before she accepted anything that woman put forward.

"Fine but only because that woman disagrees with you."

"You don't really like her."

"I don't trust her. There's a clear difference." She corrected, standing up and grabbing her bag as Emilia burst into the room with her placid smile and her tablet held up. "And you should know she doesn't trust you either."

Plutarch chuckled and got up as well with Fulvia following his movements. "Oh I know. I know she's probably got contingency plans to get rid of both of us when the show's over but maybe between the two of us, she prefers you."

"Only because she thinks I'm stupid and not a genuine threat."

"How wrong she is." He commented with a grin. "Between the two of us, you're the bigger threat."

Sera nodded along and watched him leave before she was left with Emilia. Zephyr was nowhere to be found.

With his absence, she knew that neither Beetee or Zephyr were showing up that night. Collection of bodies never took that long in the past. Crane was up to something. Something that was making it harder to collect the bodies of the fallen tributes.

Plant Dictionary

Black Dahlia - Betrayal

Rhododendron - Beware

Bittersweet - Truth

Iris - Friendship, Hope and Wisdom

Straw (broken) - Broken Arrangement