The Tailorbird

For the “The Hunger Games” Expedition, I wrote fanfiction to delve deeper into the character Cinna, as well as the Capitol itself. This includes scenes from the first Hunger Games book but from Cinna's point of view. Enjoy!

The Tailorbird

The Reaping

Cinna sighed, leaning back in his chair. It was nearly twelve, meaning it was nearly time for the first district's reaping. Watching was mandatory for the stylists, new and old, and there he was, staring at an empty screen. Waiting for the clock to finally strike twelve. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed loudly and the television flickered on.

"Welcome to the live Reaping! Please enjoy," a pleasant voice chirped as the word Reaping flashed across the screen.

District 12.

The television was deathly silent as the view panned over the citizens standing motionless in the square of District 12. The cameras moved to a stage at the front of the square where the mayor of the district was standing in front of a microphone, cards in hand.

Cinna looked away and took a sip of water as the mayor began reading off the cards. He had heard this speech a million times: North America, the Dark Days, the Peace, Panem, and so on and so forth. As often as the history of Panem was mentioned, it wasn't all that interesting once you'd heard it for the fifth time. Cinna set his glass down and scoffed quietly as the mayor read out the words, "It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks."

Thanks? Really? People should be thanking the Capitol for taking their children and family?

Cinna rolled his eyes, barely listening as the mayor read off the meager two previous victors, including Haymitch Abernathy. As if summoned, a middle-aged poorly groomed man stumbles onto the stage, yelling unintelligibly.

The crowd applauds out of courtesy as the extremely drunk Haymitch nearly pitches off the stage. He attempts to hug the escort and is quickly but barely fended off by the woman. The mayor's brow was drawn together and Cinna frowned slightly.

The mayor knows that the whole of Panem must be laughing at District 12, and he swiftly attempts to distract from Haymitch by introducing District 12's Capitol escort, Effie Trinket.

She was dressed in a spring green suit and Cinna winced as he took in her bright pink hair. Must all the Capitol citizens wear such ridiculous wigs? The hair didn't even match the suit, if anything it clashed with it.

His attention moved to the screen again as Effie Trinket's bubbly voice rang out, splitting the silence of the District citizens. 

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" 

Her wig was slanted slightly, most likely because of her unfortunate brush with Haymitch, and she reaches up to readjust it as subtly as she can as she goes on about how lovely it is to see District 12. Cinna snorted.

Effie must be dying to be bumped to a better district, preferably far away from Haymitch. "Ladies first!" she chirped as she finally made her way to the glass ball with the girls' names.

Cinna watched, taking another sip of the cool water as she pulled out a slip from the many other papers, smoothed it, and cleared her throat. He raised an eyebrow.

"Primrose Everdeen!" she read out clearly.

Cinna crossed his legs, propping them up on an ottoman. The crowd had erupted into hushed chatter as a very small, very pale, blonde girl walked stiffly toward the stage. Cinna frowned sadly.

It had never seemed fair when a twelve-year-old was reaped. They had so much to live for, not that the others didn't, but twelve was so young.

"Prim!" A strangled voice called and Cinna scanned the screen, looking for the source of the voice. "Prim!" The cameras flitted to the crowd where an olive-skinned, dark-haired girl stood. She hurried over to Primrose, pushing the young girl behind her with a sweep of her hand. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" the older girl announced in a gasp. Cinna's eyes widened and he very nearly dropped his glass. There hadn't been a volunteer from District 12 in ages. In fact, he would've put good money on it never happening.

"Lovely! But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we um..." the woman trailed off, sounding unsure. 

"What does it matter?" the mayor chimed in, sounding slightly pained. 

The older girl and the mayor exchanged a look. 

"What does it matter? Let her come forward," he repeated hoarsely. The younger girl, Prim, was in hysterics, holding desperately onto the older one. 

"No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" she shrieked. 

"Prim, let go," the older one, presumably Katniss, snapped. "Let go!" she repeated and

a boy her age lifted Prim from the ground, unhooking the girl's hand from Katniss' dress. 

He murmured something to Katniss, and she walked up the steps as steadily as she

could. Cinna was still in shock, jaw on the floor as he watched. 

"Well, bravo!" Effie chirped. "That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?" she asked excitedly. 

"Katniss Everdeen," Katniss said after gulping. 

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don’t want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" Effie warbled.

Not a single pair of hands came together.

However, the silence is left unbroken as nearly every member of the crowd presses three of their fingers together and to their lips, holding it out to Katniss in some sort of goodbye.

Katniss' eyes were shining with unshed tears and the camera suddenly panned to Haymitch, who was staggering toward her. 

"Look at her. Look at this one!" he yelled, throwing a floppy arm around Katniss' shoulders. 

Cinna couldn't help but chuckle at her mildly startled expression. 

"I like her! Lots of..." Haymitch took a moment to think of the word. "Spunk!" he announced after a while. "More than you!" he said, starting toward the front of the stage. "More than you!" he shouted directly at the camera and Cinna raised an eyebrow.

Haymitch plunged off the stage, but Cinna was no longer listening. The drunkard, as much as Cinna hated to admit it, was quite right.

Katniss had a certain air to her that the previous tributes from 12 did not. Spunk, for lack of better words. A whole lot of gumption. A sort of...fire.

Cinna's eyes lit up as the word crossed his mind. "Fire..." he murmured, an idea blossoming to life. He sprang up abruptly and headed for the phone, dialing Portia. The phone rang for a few moments. "Come on, Portia, pick up," he muttered impatiently. 

"This is Portia, how can I help you, love!" a pleasant voice chirped.

"Hi, Portia. It's Cinna. Listen, have you seen the latest Reaping?" he said, getting straight to the point. 

"Ooh, hi! Yes, I have, why?" she replied. 

"I need you to get me the District 12 girl to style," he said. 

Portia went silent for a while. "...What?" she said after a moment. 

"I want District 12," he said slowly. 

"Sure, I heard you. Are you sure? I mean, it's District 12, you're currently with 11, and—" Portia continued, but Cinna cut her off. 

"I want District 12," he repeated firmly. 

Portia sighed. "Sure, I'll get you District 12."

Cinna grinned. "Thanks, Portia, I owe you loads," he said, truly grateful. 

"It's free of charge," she responded, a light smile in her tone. "I'll get on that, buh-bye!" she chirped and they were disconnected. 

Cinna put the phone back, still grinning in triumph. 

Stylist

“Cinna! Katniss is ready and hair-free!” Octavia chirped, flouncing into the room with a painfully white smile. “Let us know if you need anything.”

Cinna smiled in response. “Thank you,” he replied simply, standing up and making his way out of the waiting area. As he walked down the empty halls, he wondered how Katniss would react to him. 

Would she look at him with disgust? Annoyance? Or would she be compliant, having accepted her fate? 

He opened the door to the District 12 room of the Remake Center and spotted Katniss immediately, standing motionless in the center. Her eyebrows twitch upward in barely repressed surprise. 

“Hello, Katniss. I’m Cinna, your stylist,” Cinna said quietly. He had been advised by multiple professors in the beautician academy to make a good impression on the tributes. Many of the previous tributes have tried to bolt as soon as their prep team arrived, and he wouldn’t put it past Katniss. However, she stayed put.

“Hello,” she said, looking rather cautious with a hint of curiosity.

“Just give me a moment, alright?” Cinna asked, taking in Katniss’ build. She was leanly built, not too tall, not too short. Designs bloomed in Cinna’s mind as he let his eyes roam across her. His eyes were drawn to her chestnut-colored hair, woven in an elaborate braid. “Who did your hair?” he asked curiously. 

“My mother,” she replied shortly.

Cinna hummed in appreciation, eyes flitting over the strands. “It’s beautiful. Classic really. And in almost perfect balance with your profile. She has very clever fingers,” he remarked.

“You’re new, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” Katniss guessed.

Cinna nodded. “Yes, this is my first year in the Games.”

“So they gave you District Twelve,” she said.

Cinna smiled wryly. Portia had managed to get him bumped to District Eleven a few days prior to the Reaping. “I asked for District Twelve,” he replied, not bothering to explain. “Why don’t you put on your robe and we’ll have a chat,” he suggested. 

She pulled on her robe obediently and it dawned on him that it wasn’t really a suggestion. The tributes were meant to follow the stylists’ instructions, regardless of the validity of them. Cinna frowned minutely. He wished that he could have more time with Katniss, getting to know her. 

He reminded himself that his wishes were in vain. The Capitol wouldn’t allow that, if only for their public image. It wouldn’t look good if the stylists and tributes were mingling amongst themselves. The Capitol kept the Districts under their thumbs and looked upon them with disdain at their “barbaric” lifestyles when the Capitol was the one forcing them into the situation. 

As he pondered this, he opened a door to a sitting room, letting Katniss in. A floor-to-ceiling window consumed one of the four walls, letting in what little sun peeked out from behind the clouds. “Sit, please,” Cinna said, gesturing to one of the red couches as he sat down. 

Katniss sat down warily, eyeing the table as Cinna pressed a button on the side of it. A second tabletop emerged from it, holding lunch. He watched with a hint of sadness as Katniss’ eyes scanned the food, shock reflecting in her eyes. She looked up after a few moments as if feeling Cinna’s gaze on her. 

“How despicable we must seem to you,” he remarked wistfully, studying her expression. 

She stared at him and something in her eyes told him he was correct. 

“No matter,” he said, waving it off when she didn’t respond. “So, Katniss, about your costume for the opening ceremonies. My partner, Portia, is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Peeta. And our current thought is to dress you in complementary costumes,” he informed her. “As you know, it’s customary to reflect the flavor of the district.”

She seemed well aware of this, almost bored as she nodded minutely. “So, I’ll be in a coal miner outfit?” she guessed and Cinna shook his head, making an expression of disgust. It was just lazy styling to use the uniform of the District’s principal industry. Anyone could put on a set of baggy pants and a jumpsuit and call it an “outfit.” 

“Not exactly. You see, Portia and I think that coal miner thing’s very overdone. No one will remember you in that. And we both see it as our job to make the District Twelve tributes unforgettable,” he explained, words entirely genuine. 

Winning the Games wasn’t just a game of strength, it was a game of wits and popularity. No one sent District Twelve tributes gifts, especially if they were boring.

“So rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we’re going to focus on the coal,” he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Katniss watched him with caution. “And what do we do with coal? We burn it. You’re not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?” he asked and grinned at her expression.

Katniss was reluctantly on board with his plan, letting him brush and plait her hair. Cinna let her pull on a full-body charcoal-black unitard and lace-up faux leather boots. He pinned a cape of orange, yellow, and red to her shoulders and placed a matching headpiece against her braids. 

“We’ll be lighting this directly before you enter the square,” Cinna informed her, lifting the cape and letting it flutter down like a leaf of embers. He could practically hear the skepticism in Katniss’ silence and quickly reassured her, “It’s not real flame, of course, just a little synthetic fire Portia and I came up with. You’ll be perfectly safe.” She didn’t seem entirely convinced but didn’t protest. As a finishing touch, he added a few strokes of highlighter to her face. 

“I want the audience to recognize you when you’re in the arena: Katniss, the girl who was on fire,” Cinna said, taking the outfit and makeup in proudly. The essence, determination, and bravery of the girl in the Reaping had been perfectly captured. He led her out of the room to where he had been waiting. Portia and her team show up after a few minutes of waiting and they’re practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. Portia’s jaw dropped as she saw Katniss and she hurried over to Cinna. 

“Cinna, she looks amazing!” Portia said, grinning wildly. 

Cinna smiled wearily. “Thank you, I’m rather proud of it myself.”

“Oh she’ll definitely get the attention she deserves, and so will you! You’ll be famous, Cinna!” Portia gushed excitedly, waving a few of her prep team members over to look at Cinna’s work. The prep team congratulated him on his work and he accepted their praise tiredly. 

They were led to the ground level of the Remake Center, the stables, where twelve chariots were waiting for the pairs of tributes. 

“Alright, step onto the chariot please,” Portia said, ushering Peeta and Katniss onto the chariot being drawn by four raven black horses. She adjusted Peeta’s cape and gestured for Cinna to do Katniss’. He fluffed it out, repositioning it before standing back and nodding. Portia positioned the two, tapping Katniss’ chin up before waving for Cinna to follow her. 

“So! Did Katniss live up to your fiery expectations?” Portia asked in a conspiratorial tone, leaning in. 

Cinna laughed. “Yes, she did, despite being extremely compliant. I’m not sure what Haymitch is complaining about, she’s been nothing but lovely to me,” he said, then paused. “Lovely and very silent,” he amended and Portia raised her eyebrows.

“Effie was saying that Katniss almost stabbed Haymitch at breakfast the other day,” she whispered, eyeing Katniss warily and Cinna snorted quietly.

“He probably did something to deserve it, he’s not particularly pleasant all the time,” he admitted. 

Portia shrugged and looked over at the two tributes as they burst into laughter. “That’s new,” she remarked. “Peeta was quite pleasant, but I don’t think he laughed. They’d be a good team. Pity that they can’t be.” 

Cinna shrugged in response and the opening music started blaring. Gargantuan doors opened to the streets and he raised an eyebrow. The streets were lined with the largest crowd he’d ever seen, and excited screaming echoed around the streets as District One’s tributes rolled out of the stables in their glitzy carriage, tunics glittering in the lights. The screaming got louder and District Two’s tributes were positioned to follow. 

“Cinna! When should we light the capes?” Portia asked loudly, leaning in so Cinna could hear.

“Right after District Eleven!” Cinna replied, nearly shouting to be heard over the roar.

In what felt like seconds, District Eleven was getting ready to leave and Portia poked his side. “Here.” She handed him a blazing torch. 

He nodded in thanks, heading toward the carriage. “Here we go then,” Cinna said, internally crossing his fingers as he set the capes on fire. Katniss gasped and Peeta flinched back. He climbed up to light their headdresses and let out a sigh of relief. “It works,” he sighed, then gently tapped Katniss’ chin. She lifted her chin slightly and he smiled. “Remember, heads high. Smiles. They’re going to love you!” he reassured them as he jumped off the chariot, extinguishing the torch before remembering what Portia had said. 

They’d be a good team. Pity they can’t be.

“Hold hands!” Cinna shouted and they looked at him in confusion. The music must have been drowning him out. “Hold hands!” he yelled again, interlocking his hands together and holding them up for the two of them to see. Katniss turned to Peeta and her mouth moved. Peeta replied and laced their fingers together, looking over. Cinna nodded, grinning as he gave them a thumbs up. The chariot entered the city and they were gone. 

“What are you doing?” Portia asked, giving him a confused and shocked look. 

“Maybe they can be a team,” he replied. “I mean, the Capitol’s a sucker for sweet things. Maybe they could be sweet.”

Portia looked skeptical. “Alright then,” she said slowly, shrugging as she turned to a large screen to watch them enter the City Circle.

Scores

“The weather’s been so pleasant lately!” Effie chirped and Portia nodded vigorously. Cinna repressed a sigh as they chatted, instead looking around the table. He caught a glimpse of Peeta and Katniss exchanging a look and Katniss shook her head. Cinna frowned slightly but didn’t say anything.

“Okay, enough small talk, just how bad were you today?” Haymitch sighed as a few Avoxes brought in the main course, some form of garlicky pork chop. 

“I don’t know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So, I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go.” Peeta said quickly.

Haymitch turned to Katniss. “And you, sweetheart?” he said in a degrading tone.

Katniss bristled slightly. “I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers.”

Cinna nearly dropped his fork and Portia choked on her wine, hiccuping as she coughed.

“You what?” Effie said, looking aghast.

“I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It’s like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just . . . I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig’s mouth!” Katniss declared in defense. 

“And what did they say?” Cinna said in a cautious tone. It wouldn’t do her any good to have a bad score and if she’d ticked off the Gamemakers…

“Nothing. Or I don’t know. I walked out after that,” Katniss replied simply and Cinna’s eyebrows became in danger of flying into his hair.

“Without being dismissed?” Effie gasped, appalled.

“I dismissed myself,” Katniss said, looking guilty.

“Well, that’s that,” Haymitch said frankly, buttering a roll.

“Do you think they’ll arrest me?” Katniss asked.

“Doubt it. Be a pain to replace you at this stage,” Haymitch responded, sounding rather calm about the situation.

“What about my family? Will they punish them?” she asked, a hint of anxiety creeping into her tone. Her panicked expression at the Reaping flashed through Cinna’s mind.

“Don’t think so. Wouldn’t make much sense. See, they’d have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. But they can’t since it’s secret, so it’d be a waste of effort,” Haymitch admitted. “More likely they’ll make your life hell in the arena.”

“Well, they’ve already promised to do that to us anyway,” Peeta remarked.

“Very true,” Haymitch said, picking up a pork chop with his fingers and dipping it into his wine roughly. Effie grimaced, frowning at his lack of etiquette. “What were their faces like?”

Katniss’ lips twitched upwards in amusement. “Shocked. Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them.” She paused. “One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch.”

Cinna and the rest of the table burst into laughter, except Effie, who seemed to be biting back a smile. “Well, it serves them right. It’s their job to pay attention to you. And just because you come from District Twelve is no excuse to ignore you,” she announced, looking around anxiously. Cinna hummed in agreement. “I’m sorry, but that’s what I think,” she added and Cinna wondered briefly who she was apologizing to.

“I’ll get a very bad score,” Katniss said.

Portia reassured her quickly, saying, “Scores only matter if they’re very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones. For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy,” 

Cinna smiled slightly, nodding.

“I hope that’s how people interpret the four I’ll probably get,” Peeta said, sounding hopeful. “If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of yards? One almost landed on my foot.”

Katniss grinned at him, cutting a piece of pork and dunking it in mashed potatoes covered in gravy. She looked much more relaxed than before and Cinna smiled slightly.

After dinner, they went to the sitting room to watch the scores. The Careers were in an eight-to-ten range per usual, the others receiving an average of five, and one of the District 11 tributes, a wispy little girl named Rue received a seven. District 12 came last, Peeta pulling an eight. Cinna waited anxiously for Katniss’ score. 

Katniss Everdeen - 11

Effie squealed in excitement and a large grin spread across Cinna’s face as everyone cheered. Even Haymitch slapped Katniss’ back in a congratulatory gesture. 

Katniss looked dazed as she accepted the congratulations. “There must be a mistake. How...how could that happen?” she asked Haymitch.

“Guess they liked your temper,” Haymitch said with a shrug and Cinna hummed quietly in agreement. “They’ve got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat.”

“Katniss, the girl who was on fire,” Cinna said, giving her a hug. She reciprocated quickly and Cinna gasped. “Oh, wait until you see your interview dress.”

“More flames?” Katniss guessed.

“Of a sort,” Cinna replied with a mischievous tone.

Flames

Cinna walked down the hall, holding a covered dress, suppressing an excited smile as he opened the door to the Remake Center’s District 12 room. 

“Close your eyes,” he said, grinning as he took in Katniss’ redone look: skin glistening with gold dust, large dark eyes, dark rose lips. Venia helped him slip it over her and Octavia held Katniss steady as she stepped into the shoes. Cinna adjusted a few things, then stood back. 

“Can I open my eyes?” Katniss asked and Cinna nodded even though she couldn’t see.

“Yes, open them,” he said, smiling.

She opened her eyes and gasped as she gazed in the mirror. Her entire dress was covered with flame-like jewels, flickering at her every movement to appear as if she were immersed in tongues of fire.

 “Oh, Cinna, ” Katniss whispered. “Thank you.”

“Twirl for me,” he said in reply, smiling softly.

She whirled around, gems gleaming in the light and the prep team shrieked in excitement.

Cinna dismissed the team, helping Katniss get used to the outfit. “So, all ready for the interview?” he asked wryly as they sat on the couches. Haymitch had been complaining about how horrid she had been acting during their sessions, but that was also Haymitch, who didn’t act well-behaved ever.

“I’m awful. Haymitch called me a dead slug. No matter what we tried, I couldn’t do it. I just can’t be one of those people he wants me to be,” Katniss replied, sounding defeated. 

Cinna thought for a moment. “Why don’t you just be yourself?” he asked curiously.

“Myself? That’s no good, either. Haymitch says I’m sullen and hostile,” she said.

“Well, you are...around Haymitch,” Cinna countered with a grin. “I don’t find you so. The prep team adores you. You even won over the Gamemakers. And as for the citizens of the Capitol, well, they can’t stop talking about you. No one can help but admire your spirit,” he finished.

She didn’t reply, thinking it over.

“Suppose, when you answer the questions, you think you’re addressing a friend back home. Who would your best friend be?” Cinna asked, taking her hands. They were freezing and he gently squeezed them, looking at her for an answer.

“Gale,” Katniss said, a knee-jerk response. “Only it doesn’t make sense, Cinna. I would never be telling Gale those things about me. He already knows them.”

“What about me? Could you think of me as a friend?” Cinna asked, curious for her response.

“I think so, but—” Katniss started.

“I’ll be sitting on the main platform with the other stylists. You’ll be able to look right at me. When you’re asked a question, find me, and answer it as honestly as possible,” Cinna reassured her.

“Even if what I think is horrible?” she whispered, looking unconvinced.

“Especially if what you think is horrible,” Cinna replied. “You’ll try it?”

She nodded and Cinna smiled in triumph.

Interview

“Cinna…” Katniss said, grabbing his hand as he reached for the doorknob to exit her room.

“Remember, they already love you, ” he reassured her gently. “Just be yourself.”

Portia, the prep teams, Haymitch, Effie, and Peeta were waiting by the elevator. Haymitch was dressed in a neatly pressed suit for once, which he didn’t look particularly pleased with. Peeta was in a black suit, flame accents licking at his ankles. 

The elevator opened and the twenty-four tributes were escorted to an arc for the interviews. Cinna and Portia made their way to the stylists' row in the front.

“Cinna, I can’t believe you don’t share more of your sketches. Katniss’ dress looks stunning!” Portia said and Cinna smiled. 

“I had a great tutor,” he replied and Portia rolled her eyes, blushing slightly.

“Stop, that’s all your talent,” she scoffed, smiling.

Cinna was what many could call a “tortured artist,” barely making it into the school of fashion with his portfolio. The assignments were taxing, especially for someone of his status: a poorer Capitol citizen with a dream to make a difference. Portia had graciously taken him under her wing, tutoring him through lessons, giving him tips to impress professors, and encouraging him to share his talent. They became fast friends, comparing sketches and ideas through school and graduating together.

Cinna wondered where he would be if Portia hadn’t found him. Probably cast out amongst the streets, perhaps even transferred to the Districts, because God forbid the President to pay mind to the poorer citizens.

While he was pondering this, the interviews flew by, going three minutes at a time as Caeser Flickerman, the usual host, cycled them through. 

“Katniss Everdeen!” Caesar announced and Cinna snapped out of his thoughts as Katniss shook his hand. “So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What’s impressed you most since you arrived here?” Caesar asked and Katniss seemed to go blank. 

Her eyes found Cinna and he smiled encouragingly. “The lamb stew,” she managed to get out, drawing a laugh out of the audience.

“The one with the dried plums?” Caesar asked. Katniss nodded minutely. “Oh, I eat it by the bucketful.” He turned sideways to the audience in horror, hand on his stomach. “It doesn’t show, does it?” The rest of the audience applauded, shouting reassurances.

“Now, Katniss,” he said seriously, “When you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?”

Cinna raised an eyebrow, curious for her honest response.

“You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?” she asked, receiving a large laugh from the audience and Cinna nodded, smiling slightly.

“Yes. Start then,” Caesar replied.

Katniss found Cinna in the audience again. “I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I’d ever seen and I couldn’t believe I was wearing it. I can’t believe I’m wearing this, either.” She lifted her skirt slightly to spread it out. “I mean, look at it!” she exclaimed. 

The rest of the audience gasped and cooed over the sparkling dress and Cinna swished his finger in a loop. Katniss’ eyes lit up with recognition and she spun once. The crowd exploded into awe-filled cheers. 

“Oh, do that again!” Caesar gasped and Katniss lifted her arms, spinning. The “flames” flickered in the gleaming lights and Cinna could almost hear the crackling fire as she twirled.

“Don’t stop!” Caesar said as Katniss stopped, holding tightly to his arm. 

“I have to, I’m dizzy!” she giggled and Caesar wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Can’t have you following in your mentor’s footsteps,” he chuckled. The cameras whirled around to find Haymitch, who waved them away, nodding toward Katniss. 

“It’s all right,” Caesar reassures the crowd. “She’s safe with me. So, how about that training score? Eleven. Give us a hint of what happened in there.”

Katniss’ eyes flicker up to the Gamemakers, chewing on her lips. “Um...all I can say, is I think it was a first,” she said.

The Gamemakers nodded, chuckling.

“You’re killing us,” Caesar groaned. “Details. Details.” 

“I’m not supposed to talk about it, right?” Katniss asked the balcony.

The Gamemaker who fell in the punch bowl, who Cinna recognizes as Plutarch Heavensbee, shouted “She’s not!” 

“Thank you. Sorry. My lips are sealed,” Katniss said to Caesar.

“Let’s go back then, to the moment they called your sister’s name at the reaping,” Caesar said quietly.“ And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?”

Cinna’s face fell and he stared up at Katniss with a compassionate look.

“Her name’s Prim. She’s just twelve. And I love her more than anything,” Katniss said in a soft tone.

City Circle had gone silent, hanging onto Katniss’ every word desperately.

“What did she say to you? After the reaping?” Caesar asked.

Cinna watched Katniss’ expression.

“She asked me to try really hard to win,” she said quietly, her voice strained.

“And what did you say?” Caesar prompted.

Katniss tensed, looking determined. “I swore I would,” she replied darkly.

“I bet you did,” Caesar said, squeezing Katniss as the buzzer signaling the end of the three minutes blared. “Sorry, we’re out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve.”

The audience applauded, Cinna and Portia loudest of all. Katniss glanced at Cinna and he gave her a subtle thumbs up, smiling softly.

The Games

It was finally the day of the Games and Katniss was ghostly silent as Cinna braided her hair in her signature simple plait. He had been handed an opaque package full of clothes for Katniss and helped her dress in the plain blouse, trousers, and black hooded jacket. He rubbed the material of the jacket between his fingers, eyeing it.

“The material in the jacket is designed to reflect body heat. Expect some cool nights,” he announced quietly, handing her soft leather boots. He searched in his pocket, finding the little gold Mockingjay pin. He fastened the pin to her shirt, smiling dryly as he remembered how long it had taken him to clear it from the review board. 

“Where did you get that?” Katniss asked curiously.

“Off the green outfit you wore on the train,” Cinna replied, smoothing her shirt “It’s your district token, right?” 

She nodded and he gently patted the pin, stepping back. 

“It barely cleared the review board. Some thought the pin could be used as a weapon, giving you an unfair advantage. But eventually, they let it through,” he said, not bothering to mention how hilarious it was to watch the Gamemakers quarrel over a tiny metal pin. 

The most that it could do was poke someone, but he wouldn’t put it past someone to find a way to kill someone with a single gold pin. 

He shuddered minutely. “They eliminated a ring from that District One girl, though. If you twisted the gemstone, a spike popped out. Poisoned one. She claimed she had no knowledge the ring transformed and there was no way to prove she did. But she lost her token. There, you’re all set. Move around. Make sure everything feels comfortable.” he said, waving at her to move around.

She walked, ran in a circle, swung her arms, and then stopped. “Yes, it’s fine. Fits perfectly.”

Cinna nodded. “Then there’s nothing to do but wait for the call,” he said frankly. “Unless you think you could eat any more?” he suggested quietly and she shook her head. He nodded again, holding out a glass of water which she took, sipping at it occasionally. Her fingers circled around her small tracking device that had been injected into her forearm. She poked at it, causing a small bruise. Cinna gently swatted her hand away after a few minutes of this.

“Do you want to talk, Katniss?” he asked gently

She shook her head. After a few seconds, she held out her hand and he smiled sadly, enveloping it in his. They sat in silence for a while until a pleasant automated voice called out. 

“Please prepare for launch.”

Katniss stood up, still clutching Cinna’s hand desperately as she stood on the circular metal plate. 

“Remember what Haymitch said. Run, find water. The rest will follow,” he reminded her gently. “And remember this. I’m not allowed to bet, but if I could, my money would be on you,” he added as comfortingly as he could.

“Truly?” she whispered.

“Truly,” he replied firmly, leaning down and pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. “Good luck, girl on fire,” he said, his throat tightening slightly. This could very well be the last time he ever saw her. A glass cylinder lowered around Katniss and she reluctantly let go of Cinna’s hand. He gently tapped his fingers under his chin, reminding her to keep her head high. She straightened up, chin lifted defiantly as the cylinder rose and she was gone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!”

Flowers

“Cinna!” Portia shrieked from the meeting room and Cinna scrambled in, holding his sketchbook.

“What! I was grabbing my sket—” He stopped, staring at the screen. The cameras were following Katniss who was flying through the woods. 

A scream echoed through the speakers and Cinna’s eyes widened. It was a child’s scream, likely a young girl. Likely Rue’s. 

“Katniss! Katniss!” the voice shrieked and Cinna’s heart dropped as he realized his theory was correct. It was Rue. Katniss burst into a clearing and the cameras swiveled to Rue struggling hopelessly against a net. Her tiny hand reached out. “Katniss!” she said again and her breath hitched as a spear pierced her stomach. 

Portia gasped, covering her eyes and peeking out from behind her fingers and Cinna sank into a chair, eyes wide in shock. 

The view switched to the male tribute from District One as an arrow flew into his neck. He fell to his knees, yanking out the arrow and staring at it as he choked. 

“Are there more? Are there more?” Katniss yelled, whirling around as she aimed around the clearing, poised to shoot.

“No…” Rue whispered weakly and she had to repeat herself a few times as she rolled onto her side, trying to curl up.

Cinna let out a shaky breath, setting his sketchbook down. 

Katniss stared at the spear with wide eyes and Rue reached out to cling to her hand.

“You blew up the food?” Rue whispered.

“Every last bit,” Katniss replied.

“You have to win,” Rue said.

“I’m going to. Going to win for both of us.” Katniss looked up as a cannon boomed.

“Don’t go,” Rue mumbled, sounding desperate as she clutched Katniss’ hand. 

Portia let out a choked noise and Cinna reached for her hand, keeping his teary eyes on the screen.

“Course not. Staying right here,” Katniss replied, moving closer and gently lifting Rue’s head into her lap. She ran her fingers over Rue’s hair, tucking some behind her ear.

“Sing.” Rue pleaded hoarsely.

Katniss thought for a moment, looking confused. Then she cleared her throat, swallowed, and began to sing.

Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

And when again they open, the sun will rise.

A tear slid down Cinna’s cheek as he listened intently.

Here it’s safe, here it’s warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

All had gone silent, leaving only Katniss’ tremulous but soothing voice.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away

A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray

Forget your woes and let your troubles lay

And when again it’s morning, they’ll wash away.

Portia squeezed Cinna’s hand and sniffled.

Here it’s safe, here it’s warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Katniss’ voice had gone quiet, barely audible.

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

Everything was silent.

Then, the Mockingjays lifted Katniss’ song into the air, lilting smoothly over the notes. Rue’s cannon fired and Katniss leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Rue’s temple, before slowly releasing her. 

Portia burst into tears, leaning against Cinna’s shoulder as she sobbed, clutching his hand. 

Silent tears streamed down Cinna’s face as he squeezed her hand shakily.

Katniss took the District One tribute’s pack, as well as Rue’s, but left the spear in her stomach. Then, she stood back, looking at Rue’s tiny curled body. She stepped into the woods and the cameras followed her curiously, watching as she entered a small bank of wildflowers. One at a time, Katniss placed flowers around and on Rue. She covered the wound, framed her peaceful face, and wove them into her hair. 

Portia’s shoulders were shaking with silent tears.

Cinna watched in silence, not wanting to break the reverent silence.

The cameras switched abruptly once they realized what Katniss was doing, but they were forced to come back as the hovercraft lifted Rue. Wildflowers encircled her body and they drifted to the ground as she was lifted gently off the ground. 

Then, she was gone.

Nightlock

Cinna stared at the screen, quite shaken from the previous gore of Cato’s mauling. A Mockingjay whistled in warning as a hovercraft appeared to take what was left of him and the cameras turned to Katniss and Peeta.

“What are they waiting for?” Peeta asked weakly.

“Yes, what are they waiting for?” Portia muttered, scowling at the screen.

District Twelve had won. Hadn’t they? Where was the hovercraft, the celebratory announcement of the winner, the end to these awful Games?

“I don’t know,” Cinna said just as Katniss said the same.

Katniss crouched to pick up a stick, likely for Peeta’s botched tourniquet and Claudius Templesmith’s announcement rang through the arena. “Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed,” he said. “Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

Cinna’s jaw dropped and Portia gasped.

“No!” she said breathlessly.

“What?” Cinna huffed, shaking his head.

“That’s not— that’s not fair—” Portia stammered, wringing her hands. “How didn’t they see that sooner? Why would they give us hope—”

Cinna groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “They never intended for them to both live,” he realized out loud. “It got us watching, didn’t it?” he muttered, anger bubbling. He’d bought into the words of the Gamemakers, only to be disappointed by the Capitol. 

“If you think about it, it’s not that surprising,” Peeta said quietly, barely making it to his feet. His hand is drawn to the knife in his belt and Portia gasped as Katniss’ bow was aimed at him. He tossed the knife into the lake, raising an eyebrow. 

Katniss’ face burned in shame as she dropped her weapons.

“No. Do it.” Peeta said, stumbling forward and pushing the weapons back into her hands.

“I can’t,” Katniss said stubbornly. “I won’t.”

“Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don’t want to die like Cato,” Peeta pleaded.

“Then you shoot me,” Katniss snapped, shoving the weapons back at him. “You shoot me and go home and live with it!”

Cinna watched sadly. In this situation, death was the easy way out. Living meant killing your morality.

“You know I can’t,” Peeta said, tossing the weapons aside. “Fine, I’ll go first anyway.” He ripped the bandage off his leg and his wound wept freely without the barrier.

“No, you can’t kill yourself!” Katniss insisted desperately, attempting to bandage his leg again.

“Katniss… It’s what I want,” he said.

“You’re not leaving me here alone,” Katniss snapped.

“Listen,” Peeta said, tugging Katniss to her feet. “We both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me,” he pleaded. “Katniss, life wouldn’t have meaning without you, I couldn’t go on—”

Katniss was not listening as she stared at him with a blank expression. Her hands fumbled with her pouch of nightlock and Peeta grabbed her wrist. 

“No, I won’t let you,” he said in a strained voice.

“Trust me,” she whispered. She opened her pouch, pouring a few berries into his hand, then filling her own. “On the count of three?”

“The count of three,” Peeta whispered, leaning down to give her a soft kiss.

Cinna gasped. “No, no, no, no, no. There has to be a victor—” Then it clicked. If the Capitol didn’t have a victor, they would be a laughing stock. They would lose the Games for once. They were being mocked, even Katniss’ tiny gold pin teased them. The Capitol would lose. But was it worth losing Katniss…?

The two tributes stood, back to back, free hands interlocked.

“Hold them out. I want everyone to see.” Peeta said.

They both hold out their berry-filled hands and begin counting down. “One. Two. Three!” As they lift their hands to down the berries, the trumpets blare frantically. 

“Stop! Stop!” Claudius Templesmith shouted. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you — the tributes of District Twelve!” he announced breathlessly.

Portia shrieked, clinging to Cinna and shaking his shoulder. “They won!”

“They won…” Cinna breathed, staring at her in shock. He laughed, wrapping his arms around Portia, smiling wildly. They had won, and the Capitol lost.

The Victor

Cinna smiled widely as he waited, ecstatic to finally see Katniss. Portia was with Peeta in one of the hospital rooms and Katniss was supposed to meet them. 

“Peeta!” someone yelled and Cinna looked around, recognizing the voice immediately. Katniss was standing at the end of the hall, looking around.

“Katniss!” Effie chirped with a gleaming white smile.

Katniss turned, seeing the three of them. She sprinted towards them without a hint of hesitation, flinging herself into Haymitch’s arms.

He looked surprised but hugged her back, smiling dryly as he let her go to Effie.

Effie was blubbering on about pearls and patting Katniss’ hair. 

Katniss let go of her, turning to Cinna. 

He smiled, letting her wrap her arms around him. He stayed silent, closing his eyes and hugging her tightly as if it were a dream, as if she would disappear if he let go. He did eventually let her go and she stepped back.

“Where’s Portia? Is she with Peeta? He is all right, isn’t he? I mean, he’s alive?” Katniss blurted frantically.

“He’s fine. Only they want to do your reunion live on air at the ceremony,” Haymitch assured her.

“Oh. That’s all. I guess I’d want to see that myself.” Katniss remarked.

“Go on with Cinna. He has to get you ready,” Haymitch replied, nodding toward Cinna, who smiled.

Katniss nodded, letting him wrap an arm around her shoulder as they walked down the hall, riding the elevator through the floors. As the doors opened, Venia, Flavius, and Octavia fussed over Katniss excitedly, chattering like parrots about how thrilled they were. They led Katniss to a dining hall, letting her eat while Cinna went to retrieve her dress. 

He stared at the candle-like dress, frowning. The Gamemakers and Haymitch had fought endlessly over Katniss’ appearance, the Gamemakers insisting on performing cosmetic surgery on her and Haymitch standing stubbornly against it. She didn’t need surgery and Cinna didn’t ever approve of drastic cosmetic changes. Anyone could be beautiful and surgery felt like cheating. He sighed, taking the dress in reluctantly.

“Have you given up the whole ‘girl on fire’ thing?” Katniss asked dryly as she eyed the dress judgmentally.

“You tell me,” Cinna replied, slipping it over her head. 

Her hands fluttered over her chest where extra padding had been added and she frowned in disapproval.

“I know.” Cinna sighed.  “But the Gamemakers wanted to alter you surgically. Haymitch had a huge fight with them over it. This was the compromise.” He had to stop Katniss from darting to the mirror. “Wait, don’t forget the shoes.” 

Venia assisted Katniss in slipping into the leather sandals and Katniss turned to the mirror. Her lips twitched upwards as she shifted, sending a burning ripple over her dress. She looked younger, almost childlike. 

“What do you think?” Cinna asked nervously.

“I think it’s the best yet,” she replied simply and Cinna smiled slightly in appreciation.

“I thought it’d be something more… sophisticated-looking,” she said after a moment of taking in her look.

Cinna paused for a moment. He couldn’t just spring the fact that the Capitol was furious with her actions in the Games, especially with the prep team fluttering around, but he couldn’t leave her hanging.

“I thought Peeta would like this better,” he lied carefully.

She looked confused but accepted his answer.

They took the elevator to the training area and Cinna was forced to leave to change into his attire for the presentation of the victors. A pit of dread placed itself in his stomach, but he forced himself to ignore it. 

It would be fine, it would be fine, it would be fine—

The Hand to Shield the Flame - Epilogue

Cinna frowned sadly, waving quickly as Katniss was loaded onto the train. She would be returning back to District Twelve and he would be stuck in the Capitol, back to his normal life. Although Katniss promised she would keep in touch, it wasn’t quite the same.

“It’s bittersweet, isn’t it? I mean, to think all of this started because you saw the girl at the Reaping.” Portia sniffled. “Goodness, I remember you calling and babbling on about fire and District Twelve.”

“I was right though, wasn’t I?” Cinna countered, eyeing the train. 

“Oh, of course, you were.” Portia agreed.

The train whistled and started chugging out of the station, a gust of wind blowing as it sped up, not unlike blowing out a candle. Cinna smiled slightly at the reminder of fire. He was right of course, the girl in the Reaping did have a certain air to her, and so did Katniss now. But that fire had changed somehow, it seemed as if it was more fragile and even more unknown. Although that was fitting, seeing as Katniss was being sent off into an unknown. 

A sense of determination and dread rushed through him. Someone needed to protect her from the Capitol, and Haymitch and Peeta didn’t seem like enough. 

She had become a candle in the eyes of the Capitol, and someone needed to be the hand to shield her from their breath. And that someone was him.