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UNITED FRONT
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ONTARI DIDN'T EXPECT to have this much trouble coming back to the Remake Center. She's been to the Capitol a hundred times since she won her games, and she figured that the flush of anxiety she'd felt the first time would be long gone.

She was wrong.

As soon as she reunites with her prep team — Sable, Leome, and Flaxe — and they hug and embrace her like they're about to engage in a dinner party and not the Opening Ceremony of the Quarter Quell, she feels a familiar weight settle on her shoulders. It takes every inch of her being to force her hands to stop shaking and her smile from slipping even for a second. Cassian is watching her. If she breaks, so does he.

So Ontari embraces the trio with an almost aggressive amount of enthusiasm. While her brother is taken away by his own team, she chatters with Sable aimlessly during their walk to the elevator. She isn't sure how they get on the topic of styles of stitching, but they do, and the blue-haired woman is delighted with the younger one's knowledge. She mentally praises her mother for teaching her.

"Venus has such great plans for you two this year," Leome gushes. His voice is thick in the sense that it always sounds like he's trying to speak through a large wad of chewing gum. The blue tint of his skin is both achingly familiar and also startling in the bright lighting. "You and Cassian are going to look fabulous, dear."

Ontari doesn't doubt it. In her games, she'd been dressed elaborately in a frilly gown that made her look somewhat like a marshmallow, but Venus had cut out several layers of tulle and completely transformed her in a matter of seconds. She went from a pastry to a fashion model. Now, years later and with an image to uphold, she's almost afraid of how good they'll make her look.

Then comes the tedious and painful process of being scrubbed, waxed, and plucked until her skin is raw and tingling. She'd long lost her sense of embarrassment about being naked in front of her team. It's a good thing, too, because the hours spent in the grooming process would have been much worse otherwise.

After applying a soothing lotion in recompense for the stinging of her skin, they scrub at her scalp. Her hair isn't altered in color, thankfully, because it's too dark to change in such a short amount of time. Flaxe dries her hair so it's pin-straight and impossibly smooth. It slides down her shoulders like silk when she tilts her head. When she lifts a section to her nose, she catches the faint scent of jasmine.

Once again, she's mystified by how she looks in the mirror. Once again, she hates it. This isn't her.

"Here you are, dear." Leome holds out a thin, blue robe for her to slip into. He helps her get her arms through the sleeves and gives her a pleased grin. "You're all set to go to Venus."

"Of course, lunch is first," Flaxe adds. The tall, pencil-thin man with a sparkling suit guides Ontari toward the door. "I'm sure you're famished."

Ontari places a hand to her stomach as it growls. Truly, she'd been so preoccupied with her team's constant chattering that she hadn't stopped to think for herself.

Venus is already waiting in the modest sitting room outside. 'Modest' is, of course, according to Capitol standards, and the ruby-toned colors in the room shock Ontari's eyes at first. A plush sofa almost the length of the wall is positioned across from the door. Her stylist is snacking on a bowl of berries from a silver platter placed on a cart before him. He looks up at the sound of the door opening.

"Ontari," he greets, smiling with his blinding set of perfect teeth. She takes in his bald head, the bronze skin without a single blemish, and multicolored jewels at the corners of his warm eyes. His outfit seems to be a black tunic with brightly colored threads used in the hemming at the collar, bottom, and sleeves to match the jewels. She takes a moment to admire the handiwork.

"It's good to see you," she says, and finds that she half-means it. Venus is one of the only people in the Capitol she can tolerate. While her team is bubbly, they can also be unbearable to talk to for long. But Venus has a sense of intelligence in his eyes that makes him easier to hold a conversation with.

It doesn't mean she refrains from inwardly cringing a bit by being in his presence. This is the man who designs her outfits to go out in public with. This is the man who controls her wardrobe, how she presents herself, how she looks at almost every given second. This is the man who took in a frightened little girl and completely renovated her until she could hardly recognize herself.

They eat their meal in silence except for a polite conversation in between bites of food. The lamb stew is incredible, as always, and Ontari finds herself greedily indulging in it. She doesn't know how little she'll be able to consume in the arena, so gaining a bit more weight before then can't hurt.

But she notices the expression on Venus' face and stops. "I'm sorry."

He grins again. Ontari momentarily considers asking for sunglasses so she doesn't sustain retina damage from his million-watt smile. "That's quite all right. Forgive me for asking, since this may be a personal matter, but Eytelia told me that you and Finnick decided to be exclusive. Is it true?"

She marvels at the sheer manipulation in that sentence alone. The beginning suggests politeness, allowing her to decline sharing if she doesn't want to, but she knows it's not an option. And he knows they didn't choose to become official.

Ontari sips from her glass of wine before continuing. "Yes, we thought that sharing our relationship to the public would be a good thing to do before the Quarter Quell. To show that it will last until the very end."

Venus nods, pleased at her response. "And what a great idea that is."

She sips more wine. Most of her conversations with her stylist are over the telephone and through packages of new clothes sent to her house, so she's forgotten how it feels to see his reactions in person. Maybe she takes the comment back about him being tolerable.

A week and a half ago, Finnick had taken a train to District Eight so they could walk hand-in-hand in broad daylight through the Main Square. The two of them got plenty of attention. People whispered about them as they went by, and a group of schoolgirls giggled when Finnick shot one of his dazzling grins at them. Then, the camera caught them in a kiss.

Ontari will never forget how disappointed she was. It wasn't supposed to be like that— staged, on-camera, with both of their true selves locked away and no real feeling behind the embrace. She'll always remember how empty she felt inside. It wasn't them. They weren't Ontari and Finnick. They were two people nearly unrecognizable even to each other, and it didn't feel like a moment of pure relief. It felt like the biggest lie she's ever told.

She's grateful when the rest of the transformation begins. Venus likes silence while he works, so she's able to follow his minor instructions mutely. She notices that he's putting almost minimal amounts of makeup on her face. The most glamorous aspect is the trail of silver, shining liquid perfectly framing the outward side of her coal-black eyeliner. Her lips are painted a matte maroon shade she's never worn before.

Beyond her face, he doesn't allow her to look in the mirror. Ontari obediently steps into a shimmering gown and allows him to zip the back. With a lump in her stomach, she notices that, while it's nearly floor-length, it's not modest whatsoever. Venus sets something on her head. Adjusts it. Helps her get into a strappy pair of silver heels.

"There," he says once she's not wobbling on her feet. He appears extremely proud of himself, hands clasped at his chest. "You may look."

Ontari turns to face her reflection and is breathless. She's donned a dress so dark she can't tell if it's a very dark blue or black, little winks of glitter catching the light as she adjusts her weight. But that isn't the most prominent aspect of the garment itself. The front of the dress comes down in two separate strips, barely covering both sides of her chest. The front and back are joined in a silver belt made of intricate stars at her hips. The skirt falls between her legs on both sides of her body. On her head is a shining tiara with stars on it as well, standing out in the darkness of her hair.

Nightfall— the coming of night. That's what she embodies.

She's never appeared more powerful in her life.

Noticing the gleam of surprise in her eye, Venus continues, "Your brother has been dressed in a similar ilk— not to worry, his is obviously designed for a male."

Ontari isn't paying enough attention to laugh at his joke. She can't stop staring at herself. Her team had airbrushed parts of her legs, chest, and collarbones to stand out more and define the muscles. She hadn't asked why, but now she knows.

It's not her. But it is an excellent costume.

"Come along," Venus urges. "I have to check on a few matters with your prep team. You're free to go down to the ground floor if you like, or look for your brother."

Cassian. He's going to hate this outfit, and, if it's close enough to hers, he'll want to burn his as well. Oversexualization makes him incredibly uncomfortable.

As Ontari steps into the elevator, she brushes her hair from her face and tries to calm her suddenly racing nerves. She'll be facing the tributes again— new and old. Ones she knows and ones she doesn't.

Hopefully the first face she'll see is Johanna's. That'll ground her.

The doors open with a ding. Ontari straightens her spine and remembers to walk with a swish, but not too much that her entire backside is exposed. Her eyebrows raise in the slightest. She becomes exactly who this outfit was intended to be for.

The first person she sees is not Johanna. Rather, it's her brother, which she supposes is both better and worse. He's standing to the side, hands clasped behind his back and a calculating expression on his face. Surely enough, their outfits are matching. His blue-black garment is constructed from the same glittering fabric as hers. He appears to be wearing trousers with a floor-length, open-front tunic on over them. His chest is completely bare; she can tell they've accentuated his abdominal muscles. Instead of making him appear bulky, the fabric is so silky and smooth that it seems to glide with him. His jet-black hair is perfectly fluffed. A similar circlet has been placed on his head, shining in the fluorescent lighting.

Cassian's eyes widen a fraction before he remembers himself and returns his expression to normal. He remains silent, eyes on a horse across the room instead of her. He only speaks when she's right beside him.

"My eyes," he mutters lowly.

"Yeah, well," she sighs, "this is only the beginning."

Ontari spots a familiar brunette girl that catches her interest. She's tending to a horse by her chariot at the end of the line, trailing her fingers along its dark mane. Katniss Everdeen.

Once again, her costume appears simple to the naked eye. It seems to be a normal black jumpsuit with a small, golden crown on her head, but if it's anything like last year's, there will likely be a surprise waiting.

Ontari hesitates. Should she greet her? How should she greet her? Is it an appropriate thing for her to do, or should she merely stand back? Maybe she could walk by and give her a nod of acknowledgement, but there isn't anywhere to go from there. She'd just have to turn around and walk back like an idiot.

But she's cut off by a blond-haired man's presence. Finnick, appearing out of nowhere with a handful of what looks to be sugar cubes, approaches the Girl On Fire with a dimpled grin. She visibly stiffens. Ontari isn't sure if it's because of his reputation, the fact that he isn't supposed to be single, or his costume.

He's wearing fish netting. That's it. It's draped around the bottom half of him only, knotted strategically to show off slivers of his thighs and not leaving much else to the imagination. His hair, like Cassian's, is immaculately done. A necklace of shark teeth is his only accessory. It's not like Finnick needs a dazzling outfit in order to stand out.

Peeta quickly approaches, presumably to save Katniss, who's still visibly stiff with discomfort. Ontari allows herself to realize that she's been staring for too long and tears her eyes away.

More tributes trickle in. The siblings watch as the rest of the Careers show up fashionably late enough for almost everyone to see them, and she quickly realizes that everyone's stylists have put in their best effort for tonight. Enobaria saunters in with her pointed teeth flashing in the light. Assistants rush out of the way of Brutus. It's no wonder that Venus wanted her to stand out so much.

Cassian clears his throat meaningfully. When Ontari turns back toward the higher-numbered districts' chariots, she catches sight of Finnick walking back from Twelve's. Only he isn't moving. For a fraction of a second, he stands perfectly still with his mouth slightly agape, but just as quickly, his natural smug expression slaps back on his face and Ontari wonders if she'd been imagining it all.

She ponders if it would be too obvious to wipe her suddenly clammy hands on her dress. He's moving closer. They can't do this tucked against the wall like she and Cassian are, so she huffs slightly before forcing herself to step forward.

Ontari is acutely aware of the number of eyes following them when she meets him halfway, loops her arms around his neck, and presses her mouth to his. She doesn't feel anything. She's too busy concentrating on how she's supposed to look to face the reality of Finnick being a very good kisser. But when she feels his fingers loop into the chains on her belt and tug her closer, his fingertips grazing her bare hips, she's more than a little surprised.

As soon as they break apart, Ontari places a casual hand on his bare chest because she feels like she's going to fall and sprain her ankle in her heels. That move was unexpected.

But it was just a move, that's all, she reminds herself. Don't get so worked up about it.

"Sugar cube?" he offers, holding one level to her face. She realizes his intention and opens her mouth so he can place it delicately on her tongue. Her lips curve into a grin when she bites into it, not breaking eye contact.

From behind Finnick, Katniss and Peeta are watching, the former appearing like she's in physical pain and the latter not bothering to mask the amount of shock on his face. At least it worked on the two newbies. The show is supposed to be just indecent enough to make the others uncomfortable.

"Do you go up to all of the female tributes and ask them if they want sugar cubes?" Ontari questions with a raise of her now perfectly-shaped brow.

"You can't prove anything," Finnick replies teasingly as he pops another cube into his mouth. It should crime for him to look so good while eating. Then, he ducks his head down to make it appear like he's whispering a secret in her ear. "How is Cassian doing?"

Ontari smiles slyly as if he'd said something else. "He's been better. We've both been."

"Katniss and Peeta," he mutters. She vainly tries to ignore how his breath tickles her ear. "Golden Alliance. I'll tell you more later."

Then, unexpectedly, he cups her face with one hand and kisses her again. She's momentarily dazed as he pulls away and continues on toward his chariot, popping sugar cubes into his mouth as if nothing had happened.

Ontari catches sight of Katniss still staring with an expression of distaste. She's lucky that she and Peeta get to have a light, pure, and happy romance instead of what she and Finnick had just pulled off. Maybe, if they'd had more time, they could have fallen in a more domestic and natural way than this.

Instead of speaking, Ontari gives Katniss a wink and turns back to join her brother at their chariot.

Venus and Aven, Cassian's stylist, appear just as they're taking their places.

"Advice?" Cassian asks, but not nervously. The studious and mysterious brother of Ontari Nightfall does not get nervous. The only hint of his anxiety is prevalent to his sister, who catches the way he seemingly casually adjusts his tunic.

Aven merely gives them a cryptic grin. "Give them what they're expecting to see."

And with that, the chariots start moving, and Ontari doesn't feel any more confident after the man's response.

District Three is out. The roar of the crowd is growing louder. District Four, and the audience nearly doubles in noise, probably at the sight of Finnick in his netting. There are three left before them.

"Hold my hand," she says to Cassian, who takes it without a word.

As she draws in a deep breath and squeezes her brother's hand, hoping that they'll ground each other, the door grows ever closer and the crowd is louder. District Seven. She plasters her trademark, closed-lipped grin onto her face.

They hurtle into the fading twilight and are met with roars from the audience on either side of them. The stands act as a sort of tunnel that leads them to the main circle. Ontari makes eye contact with several screaming Capitol residents. She waves at others, never breaking character and thanking all the stars above that her dress doesn't flap behind her with the wind.

Cassian's grip gets tighter. He's giving wide smiles to everyone, sometimes even nodding in acknowledgement at some people and causing them to faint. Ontari is on the people's screens often, and while it doesn't make her any less popular, the residents rarely get a glimpse of Cassian except for when he's filmed training with various weapons. And they love him.

Their chariot curves into the loop of the City Circle, where President Snow is peering down at the tributes with his hawk eyes. He stands behind the podium, wearing a stony expression as he examines his victims. The two Nightfall siblings wave obediently at him.

"Asshole," Ontari hisses as soon as they turn around. Cassian laughs.

This year's ceremony is shorter than most. The chariots come to a stop in their respective orders as Snow begins his speech, which is likely the same one he uses every year, just with some words switched out. Ontari does not listen. Instead, she scans the previous victors surrounding her and wonders how the hell she's supposed to make it out alive.

The anthem plays. The chariots make their final loop around the circle. Ontari and Cassian have been gripping each other's hands so tightly that they both have imprints in their skin. As soon as the doors close, they release one another.

Ontari doesn't realize until she climbs out of the chariot that she's shaking from head to toe.

——

katniss: everyone looks stupid except us
ontari: everyone is really hot and idk how to deal with it

+ for any of you who have read the ACOTAR books, ontari's dress is based on feyre's from the court of nightmares! (but slightly more decent. slightly.) if you have no idea what i'm talking about, you can google it for be better visual if i didn't explain it well enough (just a warning if i have any younger readers, discretion is advised)

UPDATE DECEMBER 2019: GUYS I'M SCREAMING!!! i found a photo on pinterest that PERFECTLY captures what i pictured cassian's outfit to look like (except a very dark navy instead of black and without his circlet). i'm crying because i didn't know this photo existed prior to writing this, but it's so perfect JDNSJWJJDNS

-kristyn