It's been almost six months since the victor's party and the snow lightly dusts the victors' row in pretty flakes, as if nature is somehow trying to make up for the atrocities that live within it. The train ride back to 2 was tense to say the least and involved me closing myself off in my room, only opening my door for my grandmother's three-toned wrap on the door. Instead of moving into my new house, I opted to move in with Grandma Sadie, leaving my new house, the one down the road painstakingly empty.

She's been physically stronger than she was before I left, but after living with her full time I've noticed that she's becoming more and more forgetful. It used to be just simple things like names or places, something I brushed off as a normal part of getting older. But she's starting to forget more important things like where she is, or even when she is. But, part of the good thing about leaving the Academy is that I now have an enormous amount of free time to use to take care of her.

Clearing my things out of the Academy may have been the most cathartic experience of my life. The beady eyes of the younger students and the judging eyes of the older students trailed after me as I walked out the door for the last time.

I can see my breath as I walk down the lane towards the house, holding a bag of fresh fruits from the market. Despite the coming curious that would be tonight, I have a bit of a hop in my step as I walk through the door. "Gran I'm home!"

"Oh hi, sweetheart," she calls from the couch.

I hear the television on and the unmistakable sounds of the Caesar Flickerman show. I frown and my demeanour instantly deflates. "Hey Gran, what are you watching?" I ask cautiously, peering into the living room to look at her TV set.

"Watching one of the old Games, they're on rerun," replies Gran. The houses in the Victor's Village get the same stations that ran in the Capitol, and for some reason watching kids getting killed once a year isn't enough so they play old Games in the meantime. Even though she's mentioned my Victory Tour coming up just this morning, it appears she's forgotten once again. She has a habit of watching the Games over and over because she still thinks that I'm in danger of the Games, always looking to find strategies to save me.

I want to grab the remote and shut it off but I know it will only cause a fight that I don't have the energy for right now. "Which one?" I ask.

"It's the one with the really young guy and he's, uh, blond, I think. Yes, blond. Oh, I can't believe I don't remember his name. He's quite the flirt..."

"The 65th?" I question.

"Ah, yes that one!" she exclaims excitedly. "The winner was, um, Floppy Air, no, no, Fin.... Finnick Odair! See this old geezer's still got it!"

I chuckle and sit next to her on the couch. "Yes, you've still got it."

"Oh, look at me. How could I forget? He's the one who follows Mags around like a puppy dog. She raves about him too. 'Oh Finnick is so smart, oh Finnick is so intelligent, did you know Finnick was the youngest to win his games?' It was like he was her own grandchild," scoffs Gran. Her hand grabs onto mine and pats it. "But only one of us has you."

The sound of a door bursting open interrupts the moment as I hear Fallon's sing-songy voice, "Darling, I'm here!" Instead of knocking like a normal person, she simply struts into the room with her team. She catches sight of me and points at me with a flourish. "Oh my. You really have let your eyebrows go wild, haven't you? But no worries, we can fix this." She turns back to her team to instruct them. "With a lot of tweezers."

~~~

"Welcome!" Caesar greets through my television screen. Fallon and her crew are finishing the last-minute touch-ups on my makeup as I stare at the screen, the time until I'm on counting down. I'm inside 'my' house instead of Grandma Sadie's house for appearance's sake. They decorated the front hallway to make the house look lived in while the rest of it sits empty.

"Where is Brutus? I thought he'd be here," murmurs Fallon.

"I already told you," I say as I try not to move my lips too much for the girl doing my lipstick. "He's not coming. He'll meet us at the train."

"Last year, the 68th Hunger Games introduced us to one of the fiercest competitors this country has ever seen. And as a nation, we revelled in that victory with her," says Caesar as he paces the stage.

"Quickly, out the door, out the door," says Fallon as she pushes me towards the front of the house. "That's your cue!"

"That is why I am proud to present you with our friend, Octavia Stone."

On cue, I open the door and smile at the camera that's obnoxiously zoomed into my face. On the one hand, I can hear the cheers of the Capitolians being flooded in by the piece in my ear, but on the other hand, the only people standing in front of me are the camera operator and the guy holding the microphone above my head.

"How's our little ray of sunshine doing?" Caesar asks.

"Excellent, Caesar. Never been happier," despite the haunting dreams I've been having, I can honestly say that I've never had more freedom in my entire life.

"We cannot wait to see you here in the Capitol in 12 days. We're going to be following your journey every step of the way. Thank you so much. Octavia Stone everybody!" As soon as Caesar finishes his speech, the lighting that they've set up goes dark and Fallon comes to usher me to the train station.

Things are going fine until I spot a certain someone standing at the train station and tapping her foot. The devil herself, my mother. The last time she waited for me at the train station I gave her a piece of my mind. Rather satisfying if you ask me, but she'll certainly disagree.

"You slimy, rotten, spoilt little bitch!" she shouts at me. Yup, definitely disagrees.

To my surprise, it's Fallon who scoffs in her face and jumps to my defence. "Excuse me, who are you to yell at my lovely victor?"

"I am her mother!" she shouts. "I am the reason she won the Games and then she came back home and tried to blame me for every little thing that's ever gone wrong in her life. I'm the reason she has that fancy house of hers, all that money, that crown, the title, me. She should thank me every time she takes a breath for goodness sake, because I made her everything she is."

"Listen, ma'am," says Fallon in as stern of a voice she can manage with her prim and proper accent. "Everything this beautiful girl did was on her own. It was her alone in that arena, and in those interviews. Sure she had our help," she says motioning to her crew. "But I will not let you stand here and try to take credit for her accomplishments. So suggest you move before I instruct the peacekeepers to make you move."

For once, my mother has been stunned into silence. Such a rare occurrence that I wish I could take a picture of her face and hang it on my wall. Despite how annoying I find Fallon to be, maybe, just maybe she's not so bad after all.

I start the Victory tour in District 12, then go on to 11, 10, 9, and so on. I never truly realized how small and impoverished the outer districts are. I always knew they were poorer and could always see the smaller crowds on Reaping Day, but seeing it in person is a whole different experience. The people are also extremely different than the people of 2. There's an overwhelming energy of hatred for the Games, and to a certain extent, for me.

Luckily for me, Brutus all but ignores me on the train except to make idle conversation. I half expected him to spend the entire trip trying to convince me to come back to the Academy but apparently, he's learned enough about my stubborn tendencies over the years to try.

The morning of the eighth day, I find myself walking back to my compartment when I look out the window and see a vastness of blue, and I'm not talking about the sky, it's all water. The largest body of water I've ever seen was the quarry back on 2, but this water, I can't see where it ends. Then it dawns on me; I've only heard stories about this before, this is the ocean. The water sparkles in a blue, almost green colour and I see sandy beaches, an absolutely beautiful sight: District 4. The videos I've seen have never done it justice.

But as soon as we step off the train, I'm ushered away from the sea and off into a drab building, though to be fair, it's still nicer than the one in 2. "We have to have you set in your hair and makeup by two and have you do your speeches by three," Fallon rattles off.

"Wait, what time is it now?" I ask.

"One-fifty-two," she says checking her hologram watch. "Why?"

"Just wondering if I could go look for a friend here that all," I say, thinking of going looking for Mags and Finnick.

"As long as you don't leave the premises, I don't see it being a problem," she replies. "Oh, and when we get to the Capitol, remind me to get you a watch."

I make my way towards the door and realize that the premises aren't that big. Unless Finnick is in the building or around the stage, it doesn't seem likely I'm going to find him here. The back of the stage—a makeshift one that they assemble for tours and Reapings—is open to the air and I notice that the peacekeepers are off having a conversation, not paying attention to this exit. I look both ways and go to slip out of the building.

I hadn't checked my surroundings well enough apparently, because before my foot gets out the door, I hear a familiar voice call to me. "I didn't know Panem's sweetheart was a secret bad girl."

"Finnick?" I say in surprise as I turn to the side to see Finnick leaning on one of the support beams of the backstage. "What are you doing back here?"

"Being a victor has its privileges. Which reminds me, why did I just catch the sweetheart of Panem sneaking out of her own Victory Tour? Isn't that like a major reputation no-no?" he says humorously.

"Oh please, you don't actually believe what you see on the television, do you?" I say jokingly. There's no way that anyone beyond the limits of the Capitol has ever been fooled by the friendly sweetheart act.

"Well, it's somewhat true. You're nicer than the other victors from 2. Whenever I talk to you, I don't get an overwhelming urge to cover my ears so that's a start."

Even though it's technically an insult, it's a playful one so a small chuckle escapes my lips. It's nice to talk to someone who shares my love for the art of sarcasm. "Seriously though, you didn't answer my question, why are you back here?" I ask, still curious.

"I think it's rather obvious. I came looking for a girl about yay high," he says holding his hand out to demonstrate my height. "Dark brown hair, has a bit of a resting bitchface from time to time." When I only give him a glare in response he continues. "Oh come on, you can't tell me that you weren't about to sneak out of here to look for me too."

He's got me there. "And Mags," I squeak out.

He gives me a small, almost condescending nod, letting me know he doesn't believe me. "Anyway, enough about you sneaking around. How've you been?"

"Well, things have been surprisingly peaceful back in 2."

"That is a surprise."

"I quit the Academy, moved into my grandmother's house, I don't feel like I've ever had so much free time."

Finnick smiles to himself. "Look at you go. Hey, have you—"

"There you are!" says Fallon as she enters the backstage area, disrupting the friendly atmosphere that had formed. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Do you know how hard it is to run around looking for you in these heels? I've been—" she catches sight of Finnick and for a moment I think she's going to have a heart attack. She leans over to me to whisper, even though Finnick can still hear us, "listen, darling, I'm not complaining, but how did he get back here?"

"Just leaving," says Finnick. He gives Fallon a small smile, but it's one that doesn't quite meet his eyes. "Goodbye ladies."

Just before Finnick passes through the door I feel him slip something into my pocket. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I reach into my pocket and feel a small slip of paper. After doing so I see Finnick turn around, most likely to make sure I got the note, and Fallon winks at him. Typical Capitolian, I think to myself as I roll my eyes.

Fallon continues to stare in Finnick's direction, paying very close attention to his...hindquarters. "Fallon, can you stop drooling over Mr. Odair and get a move on please?" I ask, the edge seeping through my voice.

"Oh right," she says, turning away. But before we're clear of his view, she turns back around and mouths, "Call me," thinking I don't notice.

As much as I appreciated Fallon for telling off my mother a few days ago, I can feel the disdain growing once again.

~~~~

"...and with that, I thank both families of the Tributes for allowing their children to honour their district," I say on the platform, my voice echoing throughout the square as I look out over the crowd of District 4 citizens. There's a gentle salty breeze that blows my hair softly out of my face. I can see the parents and families of the fallen tributes, from which I took their children and siblings. I feel guilty. Terribly guilty, as if I'm standing on the stage still covered in their blood. Though technically, I still am. "I can honestly say both your Tributes fought with honour and valour. We thank them for their sacrifice for the glory, and power, of the Capitol. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever. Thank you."

The speech is utterly boring, the same Capitol-worshipping type of speech that is expected of a Career. As the crowd empties, I do a quick scan for Finnick but sadly, I don't find him in the sea of other tanned and blonde bodies.

I'm disappointed to not get to see him once more before I leave, but such is the life of a victor I suppose. But as I step onto the train platform I spot Finnick out of the corner of my eye, standing in the middle of the sand road waving to me.

"Open the note now," he mimes.

I oblige and reach into my pocket to pull out the note. Now that I can see it, it's written on a different type of paper than we have in 2, it's much thicker and more fibrous, softer to the touch.

Meet me in the lobby by the elevators on the first night. I'll be the tall blonde one. Can't miss me.

Finn

A small smirk graces my face as I nod back at Finnick to let him know I got his message. I get onto the train and it starts to pull away from the station. I pull out the note again and read it over and over. Things are really starting to look up for me after all.

I may have spoken too soon when it came to things starting to look up for me. I end up getting delayed in the Capitol after my Victory Tour and I'm ushered around the city going to various fashion houses and taking pictures with products I've never even heard of. I'm taken to dinners with Sponsors I've never even heard of, and sign so many autographs that I swear my wrist is going to fall off. They swarm around my hotel room like vultures, hoping to get a piece of me literally. I have a claw mark on my arm from some woman who took a chunk out of my arm when reaching for me as I tried to duck into the limousine.

It all concludes with a surprise visit to a large tower in the Capitol that I recognize from images of the city skyline, but I've never known what it's for. We pull up to the porte-cochere of the building and I'm immediately taken in by the beauty of the building. The lobby floors are made of marble and embellished with golden swirls and people walk about in all manner of directions in colourful suits.

The elevator takes me all the way up to the top floor and a voice in the elevator calls out, "Department of Propaganda," as the doors open.

I recognize the man waiting for me when the doors open. He was the Head Gamemaker for quite a few years in the 50s and early 60s: Plutarch Heavansbee. "It's nice to meet you, Octavia," he says extending his hand to greet mine. He leads me into his office and offers me the seat across from his desk. "I suppose you're wondering why you're here. I am the Minister of Propaganda for Panem, but I also happen to manage things like appearances for some of our most popular  victors. It's important for us to be aligned. To have the same...ideals. What people see on their television screens influences them and their opinions, so it is of the utmost importance that we are in synchronicity at all times."

It's not hard to grasp what he's putting down here.

"When my job is done correctly, people won't notice me. I'll fade into the background."

"You want me to be your talking piece," I say flatly.

"That's putting it a bit bluntly, but yes, we want you to speak for us. People look at you on their screens and they see a smart young woman. There's that undeniable glint in your eye that draws people in," says Plutarch, not even trying to hide his flattery. He grabs a remote off of his desk and clicks a button which activates a holographic video in between us on his desk. My speech from District 1 begins to play. "Look at you. You're calm, cool, collected. And, when you want to be, charming."

"Thanks," I say sarcastically.

"Look, Octavia, few people have the type of potential you do. You've studied the Games, you know how to work a crowd. I know you see right through the smoke and mirrors of it all. It's a performance. But that's all any of this ever is, right?" My silence betrays me, letting Plutarch know I'm actually listening to what he has to say. "Let us help you. We can take you to the next level. You'll have anyone in the Capitol eating out of your hand."

I give a heavy sigh and cross my arms. "And what if I say no?"

"I don't see why you would," he says with a chuckle.

"But what if I say no?" I ask again, this time more forcefully.

"I would advise against it. Octavia, working with the Capitol will make your life much easier. We'll leave your private time, your private thoughts, to you. But let us help you become a voice to be reckoned with."

I see the fork in the road in front of me. I can resist, go against the grain and the Capitol, but they'll terrorize me for the rest of my life. My grandmother's forgetfulness has caused her to slip up and spill the rumours about what they did to Haymitch. So really, there isn't a choice at all. I have to comply. At least, while she's still alive, I should play along.

"Fine," I reply, but as one act of defiance, I don't bother to hide the disdain from my voice. "When do we start?"

I haven't done it in this book yet, but please let me know if you have any suggestions for chapterly memes (my regulars will know what's up) and I can add them in here retrospectively.