The party was suffocating. Too many voices, too many colors, too many people celebrating something Aster couldn’t bring herself to be proud of.
She slipped away, weaving through corridors until she found a balcony further away from the party. The cool night air was a relief against her skin, the pantsuit her stylist had put her in was clinging to her skin and was sopping wet from sweat.
After a moment of peace, Aster realized she wasn’t alone.
A woman stood near the railing, shoulders hunched, golden curls gleaming faintly in the dim light. The woman was crying.
Odd. Capitol people didn’t cry. Not like this. Not where anyone could see. And certainly not at a party.
For a moment, Aster considered leaving her to it, whatever sorrow she had, it was well deserved. But her mother’s voice echoed in her mind: Don’t judge a book by its cover, Aster.
Annoyed at herself, she sighed and stepped forward. “Are you alright?”
The woman gasped, turning so quickly she nearly stumbled. She wiped at her face, smearing dark streaks of makeup all over her cheeks.
“Oh! Yes, of course, never better, darling.” Her voice was sharp and practiced, but there was something fragile beneath it. Aster frowned.
“You don’t look alright,” she said, handing the woman a napkin she had slipped into her pocket. “Did something happen?”
The woman let out a forced, airy laugh, using the napkin to dab at her face. “You shouldn’t worry about me. Go back to the party. It’s in your honor, after all.”
Aster leaned against the railing beside her, the other woman’s vulnerability loosening her tongue. “Yes, let’s celebrate the death of 23 other people, shall we?” Aster scoffed.
At the mention of death, the woman stiffened. Her lip trembled as she turned her face away.
Aster studied her more closely now. The curls, the voice, the powdered skin beneath streaked makeup. Recognition struck like a blow to the chest.
Her stomach twisted. The District 12 escort. Effie… Trinket?
Aster had seen her before, as she had seen every district escort during the recaps, flouncing onto the stage at the reapings, calling out names with a painted smile. Another cog in the oppressive machine. District 8’s escort hated Effie with a passion, she had ranted to Aster on the train to the Capitol how Effie would always try to show everyone up with her wild looks. But Aster had always liked her silly wigs and makeup, it had distracted her from the dread. Until her name was chosen from the bowl. From then on, Aster hated anything that reminded her of the Capitol.
Anger flared hot in Aster’s chest. She almost said something cruel, but then… Effie sniffled. And Aster hesitated.
She had never thought people from the Capitol were capable of change or even empathy. But this woman, this perfect, polished Capitol woman, was standing here, crying. Over the deaths of tributes? Over them?
Aster had no idea what to do with that.
Effie let out a shaky breath. “Yes, well,” she murmured, voice smaller than before.
And Aster, for the first time, wasn’t sure if she hated her.
The silence between them stretched, thick and uneasy. Aster shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling wrong standing here, comforting a woman who had powdered her face and smiled through the Games while Aster’s world had been torn apart.
She almost scoffed at the absurdity of it. She was the one who had been in the arena. She was the one who had fought, who had killed, who had watched others die. And yet here she was, awkwardly trying to soothe this strange, privileged woman.
Something about Effie’s grief, strange as it was, unsettled Aster enough to keep talking.
“I knew the tributes from Twelve,” Aster said, her voice quieter now. “Not the boy. I only saw him once in the arena. It was right at the beginning, neither of us had killed yet, and we didn’t want to start then, so we just went our separate ways.”
Effie sniffled but said nothing. Aster hesitated before continuing.
“But the girl? Lena.” Her throat tightened.
She stopped. Saying her name hurt, like touching a bruise that hadn’t healed.
“She and I became allies,” she finally said. “We understood each other, even without saying much.” Aster exhaled through her nose, gripping the balcony railing. She left it at that, because Effie had probably seen their alliance on screen. “I felt horrible when she died. I-I wished I had been there to save her.”
Aster retreated to her thoughts, relieving that painful memory over and over again. They had split up to gather wood when she heard Lena scream out her name. She had gotten there just in time to see a Career slice her throat open. The shock had driven her to madness, she had lunged forwards and stabbed the other tribute at least 10 times before realizing he was already dead. She had cradled Lena’s body after that, refusing to let the hovercraft collect her.
She was brought back to the present by a short hiccup escaping Effie. More tears slipped down her cheeks, but she kept her sobs quiet, controlled, as if ashamed of making too much noise.
She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, then gave Aster a watery smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For looking out for her.”
Aster swallowed, unsure of how to respond. She hadn’t done enough. Aster knew, in the end, that one of them would have had to die, but she had always gotten too attached to things. Her father said it was her weakness. She wished she would have done more for Lena, for all of them.
Effie wiped at her cheeks again, letting out a shaky laugh. “I don’t know when I became such a sap,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Crying over tributes like a– like a commoner.”
Aster frowned at that. The Capitol woman’s words were self-deprecating and a little insulting, but beneath them was something else. Something that sounded like shame.
She didn’t know what to say to that either. So, for once, she said nothing.
Effie had slipped away a few moments after, probably in search of a bathroom to fix her makeup, to act like nothing had happened, like she was still the vain, pompous, glamorous escort the Capitol knows and loves. But Aster knew her secret, deep down, Effie was just as sick and tired of these Games like the districts were. And if someone like Effie Trinket could feel this way? Who knows what the future held?
Aster thought she would never see Effie again after that. The other woman would probably want to steer clear of the only person who knew she had feelings. Except, she hadn’t.
A few weeks later, Aster was at her house at the Victor’s Village preparing for an interview from the Capitol. They wanted to see how she was adjusting to her new life in luxury. Aster hadn’t wanted to do it, but her mentor, Cecelia had convinced her.
“The more grateful we appear, the easier our lives are. Trust me, you do not want to be on the Capitol’s bad side.”
So here she was, dressed in the ugliest outfit she had ever laid her eyes on, waiting for the camera crew to arrive. Her stylist crew had already come and gone, leaving her clean and shined for the cameras. The outfit was courtesy of her head stylist, who disliked her very much and it showed. Aster looked down at the green monstrosity, Safi had adorned her body with and grimaced.
She heard a knock on the door and prepared herself for a few hours of torture.
As soon as she opened it, she blinked. Standing in front of her was Effie Trinket, only now her golden hair had been replaced with a soft pink hue, curled neatly as if she had stepped right out of the Capitol’s fashion magazines.
Aster’s grip tightened on the doorknob. “Effie?”
Effie gave a tight-lipped smile, eyes flicking over Aster’s outfit, before promptly pushing past her, a garment bag slung over her arm.
“What are you—?”
“Oh, honestly, darling,” Effie huffed, heading straight for the living room. “Safi was raving about that dreadful getup she had picked out for you yesterday, and I simply could not allow it. Green? It does absolutely nothing for you.”
Aster stared, baffled, as Effie flung the garment bag onto the couch and unzipped it with a flourish.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, still standing frozen by the door. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the Capitol? Or, I don’t know, avoiding me.”
Effie barely looked up as she pulled the outfit from the bag, a stunning deep blue ensemble that shimmered subtly when the light hit it. “Avoid you?” she scoffed. “Why ever would I do that?”
Aster raised an eyebrow, the night at the balcony flashing in her mind. “Because of… well.” She gestured vaguely, but Effie didn’t seem interested in finishing the thought.
“This,” Effie continued, shaking the fabric out delicately, “is what you will be wearing today. We have mere minutes before the cameras arrive, so do be a dear and change.”
Aster blinked at her, still trying to process the fact that Effie Trinket was standing in her home, acting as if they hadn’t spilled their guts to each other a few weeks before.
Still, she looked at the new outfit and hesitated. It was beautiful. So much better than the atrocity Safi had saddled her with.
With a sigh, she muttered, “Fine,” and took the outfit.
A few moments later, when she stepped back into the room, she felt… good. The fabric hugged her just right, the color brought out the richness in her skin, and for the first time in weeks, if not years, she felt beautiful.
Effie clasped her hands together, beaming. “Now, that is how a victor should look.”
Aster swallowed, unsure of what to say. She hesitated, then, softer than before, said, “You didn’t have to do this.”
Effie waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nonsense. I did, in fact, have to do this. I refuse to let you embarrass yourself on national television.”
Aster studied her carefully. For a brief moment, she wondered if Effie was trying to buy her silence, maybe to ensure that she wouldn’t tell anyone about the night on the balcony.
But then Effie smiled. A genuine, warm smile.
And just like that, Aster knew.
Effie trusted her. Liked her even.
And maybe, just maybe, Aster could consider trusting her as well.
After the interview, Aster had gone to Cecelia to air her doubts.
Aster had never been good at trusting people, but Cecelia was different.
During the Games, Cece had been more than a mentor. She had been an anchor, a steady presence in a time when Aster felt like she was losing control. Cece had guided her through the nightmares, the panic, the quiet, creeping horror of knowing that she had survived when others hadn’t. Survivor’s guilt is a bitch, she had said. In the weeks since, she had become something of an older sister, one Aster trusted implicitly.
Which was why, after the interview, when the cameras were gone and the house was silent again, Aster found herself in Cece’s kitchen, arms crossed as she leaned against the counter.
“I don’t get her,” Aster admitted. “Effie Trinket.”
Cece, who had been stirring a cup of tea, quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. She simply grabbed another mug and poured one for Aster, sliding it across the counter without a word. They had spoken about the balcony incident briefly, but Cece had brushed it off, saying Effie was probably too drunk to function that night. But Aster felt there was more she had wanted to say.
Aster sighed and picked up the mug, taking a slow sip. “She showed up at my house today. Brought me a dress.”
Cece hummed, settling into the chair across from her. “Really?”
Aster hesitated, then nodded. “I don’t know why. I don’t know what she wants. She’s from the Capitol, but she–” She trailed off, fingers tightening around the warm ceramic.
“She doesn’t act like one,” Cece finished for her.
Aster exhaled sharply. “Exactly.”
Cece studied her for a moment, then set her cup down with a soft clink. “Haymitch once told me something about her,” she said, voice careful, casual. “Said she’s always been a little brainwashed, but her heart’s always been in the right place.”
Aster scoffed. “Doesn’t mean much, coming from someone in the Capitol.”
Cece tilted her head. “Doesn’t it?”
Aster opened her mouth, ready to argue, but Cece leaned in slightly, resting her chin in her palm.
“It’s lovely to have friends in the Capitol, Aster. Take advantage of it. It doesn’t happen often.”
Aster stilled. Something about her tone told Aster she wasn’t talking about fashion emergencies.
“Right,” Aster said, playing along. She tapped her fingers against the side of her mug, voice deliberately light. “How else is a girl supposed to avoid embarrassing herself on national TV.”
Cece smiled, just a little. “Precisely.”
Aster didn’t know what to think of Effie Trinket. She didn’t know if she could think of her as anything other than a Capitol pawn. But she also couldn’t ignore what she had seen, the woman on the balcony, crying. The way she had helped Aster today, not because she had to, but because she wanted to.
If she ever saw Effie again, she decided, she wouldn’t turn away. Besides, she liked seeing the ever changing hair color and the fun makeup. Effie was a breath of fresh air in these dark times.
Aster felt like a caged animal at a petting zoo.
She had spent months designing clothes, sketching out patterns, selecting fabrics, not because she wanted to, but because the Capitol demanded it. Victors had to have a Talent, something to showcase, something to prove that their new lives were meaningful.
Coming form District 8, it was no surprise Aster had chosen fashion design as her talent. Having access to so many textiles and fabrics made it easy. But the people wanted to see her talent up front, and so, Aster had been shipped away to the Capitol to design clothes for the elite few who could afford her time. (Cece had bargained the steep price herself. Might as well get something out of it, kid.)
And so here she was, standing stiffly at an extravagant Capitol gala, listening to people ooh and ahh over her work as if she were performing a magic trick.
“Oh, you poor thing,” a woman cooed, reaching out to pinch her cheek. “Such a talented little thing, aren’t you?”
Aster barely resisted the urge to slap her silly. Her fingers twitched at her sides, anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface, when–
“There you are, darling!”
A familiar voice rang through the air, smooth as silk. Before Aster could react, a hand looped around her arm, pulling her away from the woman’s grasp with practiced ease.
Effie.
Aster barely had time to process the familiar scent of powder and perfume before she was being whisked away, Effie’s steps brisk but graceful. She guided Aster through the crowd, down a quiet hallway, and into a secluded lounge away from prying eyes.
Only when the door clicked shut behind them did Effie release her.
“Goodness,” she sighed, smoothing out her dress. “Some of these people, honestly.”
Aster exhaled, rolling her shoulders. “Thanks for the save.”
Effie waved a hand dismissively. “Please, it was my pleasure. No one should have to endure that.”
Aster huffed a small laugh. She moved to the window, staring out at the glittering city below. “Guess I should be grateful they like my designs.”
Effie moved beside her. “They don’t just like them, dear, they adore them. You’ve got a natural eye for fashion, you know.”
Aster snorted. “High praise coming from you.”
Effie smirked. “Indeed.”
For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, the muffled sounds of the gala filtering in from the other room. Aster let out a slow breath, rolling her shoulders as she finally allowed herself to relax.
She had spent the entire evening gritting her teeth, enduring patronizing smiles and endless fawning over her “brilliance” as if her designs mattered more than the fact that she had once fought tooth and nail to survive in the arena.
But here, away from it all, the tension in her chest loosened, the anxiety slipped away as smoothly as the silk on her dress.
She glanced at Effie, taking her in properly for the first time in months. The pink curls, perfectly arranged. The pearl-studded dress, tailored to perfection. The painted lips, curving into a soft smile as she looked over the city.
It should have irritated her, the Capitol-ness of it all. But it didn’t.
Because, somehow, Effie had managed to become something separate from the Capitol in Aster’s mind.
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I don’t know how you stand this place.”
Effie chuckled. “I ask myself that very question every day.”
Aster looked at her, surprise painting her features. “You’re not serious.”
“Oh, darling,” Effie sighed, tilting her head. “You’d be surprised how much one’s perspective can change once they start paying attention.”
Aster studied her, something stirring deep in her chest.
Months ago, she never would have thought that someone like Effie Trinket was capable of saying those words. People from the Capitol didn’t change, they were either ignorant or complicit. Or both. It was easier that way, less hassle, less guilt.
But Effie wasn’t either of those things, was she?
Not anymore at least.
Aster tapped idly against the window frame as she turned her gaze back to the view, the Capitol lights blocking out the stars, something Aster detested about this city. “They keep calling this my ‘talent,’” she said, eyes scanning the glittering city below. “Like this was some natural gift of mine, something I dreamed about since I was a kid.” She let out a bitter chuckle. “As if they didn’t force me to pick something.”
Effie hummed. “Well, forced or not, you’ve made something remarkable out of it.”
Aster scoffed. “You’re just saying that because you like clothes.”
Effie smirked. “True. But I’m also saying it because it’s true. You’ve made even the most pompous fool look sophisticated and regal with your designs.”
Aster huffed, but she felt the corner of her mouth twitch up despite herself. She had once thought of Effie as just one of those pompous fools. And now look at them, teasing each other.
Aster liked this.
She liked the way Effie’s voice could smooth out her anger, how she always seemed to know the right thing to say at precisely the right moment. She liked that Effie had pulled her away from the gala before she did something regrettable, that she knew Aster would have slapped that woman and had stepped in to save her, again.
She liked–
Aster’s breath hitched slightly.
She liked Effie.
Her stomach twisted at the thought, unfamiliar and unsettling in a way that made her grip the window frame a little tighter.
Hadn’t she spent enough of her life getting attached to people just to lose them?
She turned, shaking the thought away as she gave Effie a pointed once-over. “I liked the gold hair better.”
Effie gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “How dare you!”
Aster chuckled, low and warm, the last of her bad mood slipping away as Effie joined her.
Maybe, for once, getting attached wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
They had spent the following week together, Effie taking her all over the city, keeping her away from the crazed fans who couldn’t get enough of her.
Aster thought she would tire of the other woman, that Effie's true Capitol colors would bleed through this act. But, funny enough, the more time they spent together, the more Aster grew to like her company.
Effie was conscious of where they were, of what the Capitol meant to Aster so, of course, all of the places she picked were suited to Aster’s tastes. Places that reminded Aster of home, if only a little more elegant.
Nights were reserved for interviews and dress fittings and the like, but the days were for Effie to drag Aster around and try to take her mind off of everything. And Aster let herself be dragged.
For once, since she won the Games, she wasn’t thinking about the tributes she had killed, she wasn’t seized by guilt at random times of the day, leading to panic attacks. No, her days were so busy, she barely had time to think. Effie had made her feel normal again.
Of course, the nightmares were hard to stop. But, ask any victor, who among them didn’t have nightmares still? Whether you won 10 years ago, or two, nightmares were a common thread between victors. While the people of the Capitol slept soundly after the slaughter, the victors had to carry the souls of all the other tributes into their dreams.
They were taking a break from sightseeing, when Effie finally asked about the nightmares.
Aster sat on the edge of a pool, legs dangling in the cool water, absently kicking her feet. The Capitol had housed her in one of their finest hotels for the week, claiming it was a necessary luxury for a victor. But no matter how grand the suite, or how soft the pillows, she barely slept.
Effie sat beside her, perched elegantly on a pool chair, sipping something fruity from a crystal glass. She had her classic wig, but had only dawned on the barest of makeup, she looked beautiful. They had been talking about nothing in particular, the latest fashion trends, the most recent Capitol scandal, when Effie suddenly paused.
“You look exhausted,” she murmured, her gaze sharp as she studied Aster.
Aster blinked at her, surprised by the sudden shift. She forced a smirk. “Gee, thanks.”
Effie didn’t laugh. She tilted her head, lips pursed. “I mean it, darling. You look like you haven’t slept properly in weeks. How didn’t I notice before?” She pushed her sunglasses atop her head and studied her.
Aster turned away, watching the ripples in the water. “It’s nothing.”
Effie didn’t reply right away. But then her soft voice rang out, “Aster.”
Something in her voice made Aster’s chest tighten.
She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s just... the same thing every night,” she admitted, voice quiet. “The arena. The mutts.” She swallowed hard. “Her.”
She didn’t need to say who.
Effie didn’t push. She simply sat there, silent but listening.
Aster let out a slow breath. “I wake up, and for a second, I don’t know where I am. It’s like I’m back there, and I have to remind myself it’s over. That I–” She hesitated. “That I made it out.”
Aster heard Effie set her drink down, the glass clinking softly against the stone deck. Then, gentle fingertips touched her cheek.
She froze.
Effie’s thumb brushed lightly over her cheekbone, tracing a featherlight path. Aster let out a slow, shaky breath, closing her eyes.
For once, the weight on her chest didn’t feel so suffocating.
They stayed like that for a moment, neither speaking.
Then Effie inhaled sharply, as if realizing what she had done, and withdrew her hand like she had touched fire.
She turned away, busying herself with smoothing out the folds of her sun dress, her cheeks blushing furiously. “I–well–” She cleared her throat, flustered. “If–if you ever have another nightmare, you must tell me.”
Aster opened her eyes, studying her. Effie’s usual poised composure had faltered, just a bit.
Aster smirked, just slightly. “Must I?”
Effie shot her a glare, but the blush on her face betrayed her. “Yes, you must.”
Aster exhaled a small laugh. “Alright,” she said. “I will.”
That night, when the inevitable nightmares came, Aster called Effie.
Aster woke with a violent gasp, lungs burning like she had been drowning in her own dreams. Her body jolted upright, drenched in sweat.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. The darkness of the hotel room disorienting her. Her hands trembled as she raked them through her damp hair, forcing herself to take slow, deliberate breaths. It was just a nightmare. Same as always. But it hadn’t felt like a dream. It never did. When she was trapped in her nightmare it always felt real.
Her eyes fluttered over to the phone on her nightstand.
Effie had told her to call. Had insisted on it.
But had she meant it?
Aster shut her eyes, pressing the heels of her palms against them. Effie was probably asleep, curled up in her pristine Capitol bed, blissfully unaware of the horrors clawing at Aster’s mind. What was she thinking, reaching out like this? Effie had already done enough.
She should just deal with this on her own. Like she always did. She thought of calling Cecelia, but with three kids and her own nightmares, her mentor got less sleep than Aster did.
Aster sighed, her fingers curling into fists and, before she could stop herself, she snatched the phone and dialed.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
She gritted her teeth, already regretting it. Stupid. Stupid. What had she expected? That Effie would just be waiting by the phone for her call? She was probably out partying with her Capitol friends anyway.
Her finger hovered over the button to hang up–
Then a click.
“Aster?” Effie’s voice was thick with sleep, but alert, she sounded worried. “What’s wrong? Are you alright, dear?”
The concern in her voice shattered something inside Aster.
A broken sob wrenched from her throat and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it, humiliated.
“Aster,” Effie said again, softer now, steadier. “Stay right where you are. I’m coming over.”
Aster let out another breathless, stifled sob and nodded even though Effie couldn’t see her. She didn’t argue. The line went dead.
The wait for Effie felt like an eternity. Her nightmare induced state had led her thoughts to spiral downwards. At some point Aster just accepted the fact that Effie wasn’t coming. She was just about to slip into the shower to try to wake herself up when there was a frantic knock on the door.
Pulling a bathrobe over herself, Aster hurried to the door. The sight of the other woman took her breath away. Effie was dressed in a shimmering pink nightgown, a longer fur coat on top to protect her from the cold air, she wore matching slippers that were scuffed and dirtied by her trek here. But what really made Aster speechless was Effie herself.
She wasn’t in her usual Capitol armor, no perfectly styled wig, no layers of flawless makeup, no dazzling accessories to hide behind. Instead, her face was bare, her features unguarded in a way Aster had never seen before. A silk scarf was tied around her head, likely to protect whatever actual hair Effie did have, but for once, the focus wasn’t on perfection.
She looked real.
It was obvious she had rushed here with no time to paint herself into the pristine image of Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort. She had come as just Effie.
And she had come for her.
Something swelled in Aster’s chest, unfamiliar and overwhelming.
People had worried about her before, but only in the way they worried about a victor, concerned for what she represented, for how she played into their grand, twisted game. No one had ever knocked on her door in the dead of night, disheveled and half-dressed, just because she was hurting.
But Effie had.
Effie, who shouldn’t even be here. Effie, who looked at her now with nothing but concern, eyes flicking over her like she was checking for injuries she couldn’t see.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Effie murmured, stepping forward, reaching out before hesitating, like she wasn’t sure if Aster would accept the touch.
Aster swallowed against the lump in her throat and flung herself at Effie. Effie’s arms encircled her immediately.
For the first time in her life, Aster felt like she mattered. Not because of what she had done. Not because she had won. But for just being herself.
Effie wasn’t here for a victor. She was here for Aster. And that changed everything.
Effie took Aster’s hand, guiding her gently but firmly toward the bedroom.
“You need sleep, darling,” she murmured, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Proper sleep.”
Aster barely registered her own movements as she followed.
When they reached the bed, Effie gave her a pointed look before sitting down and patting the space beside her. “Come now. No arguments.”
Aster hesitated. The idea of sharing a bed, of letting someone close like this, felt strange. Intimate.
But she was so tired. And Effie wasn’t the Capitol, not anymore. So she gave in.
Carefully, she slipped under the covers, lying stiffly on her back. She barely had time to process the warmth of Effie beside her before gentle hands guided her, pulling her forward until her head rested against Effie’s chest.
Aster tensed at first, unsure, but then Effie’s fingers combed slowly through her hair, her nails scratching lightly against her scalp in a way that sent shivers down Aster’s spine.
She let out a slow breath, her body melting into the warmth of Effie’s embrace.
“There you go,” Effie whispered, her voice soft. “Just breathe, darling.”
Aster did. Her breath evened out, the nightmare fading, replaced by the steady rhythm of Effie’s heartbeat beneath her cheek, lulling her to sleep.
Effie continued stroking her hair, tracing soothing patterns against her temple. “You’re safe here,” she murmured, like a quiet promise.
For once, sleep didn’t feel like a battlefield she had to survive.
It just felt… safe.
Effie pressed the faintest kiss to her forehead, her breath warm against Aster’s skin. “Rest, my dear. I’ll be right here.”
And for the first time in a long time, Aster slept through the night.
The morning after, Aster woke up feeling well rested. She sat up against the headboard and listened to the sounds of Effie rummaging around her kitchen. Aster smiled. She liked the thought of someone being there when she woke up.
She padded softly to the kitchen and leaned against the entryway as she watched Effie arrange their room service on a nice little tray. She was softly humming to herself as she arranged some flowers on a vase that were at the center of the tray.
Aster couldn’t describe the feelings that were fluttering in her chest.
She had spent so long convincing herself she was alone, that no one truly cared beyond what she represented, beyond what she could offer. Before the Games the people in her district left her mostly alone, but she wasn't popular by any means. After the Games, it became very hard to discern who was genuine and who wasn’t. But here was Effie, standing barefoot in her kitchen, humming as she fussed over flowers for a breakfast tray like this was the most natural thing in the world.
Something warm coiled in Aster’s stomach, something unfamiliar and terrifying.
She liked waking up to Effie. She liked knowing that someone was here, not because they were ordered to be, but because they wanted to be.
She liked Effie.
Oh.
Oh.
The realization nearly knocked the breath out of her.
She must have made a sound, because Effie suddenly glanced up and gasped, clutching the edge of the counter like she had been caught doing something scandalous.
“Oh, heavens!” she laughed, a hand flying to her chest. “You scared me half to death!”
Aster barely heard her. She was too busy thinking how beautiful Effie looked right now.
Her golden hair, her real hair, was mussed from sleep, strands slipping loose from where the silk scarf had once held them. Her cheeks were still flushed from the scare, her lips pulled into a smile as she regarded Aster.
And Aster? Aster couldn’t stop herself.
She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Effie’s laughter faltered as Aster reached out, fingers ghosting over her wrist before traveling up to cup her cheek.
Effie’s breath hitched.
Aster took in the hesitant, questioning look in her wide violet eyes and then she leaned in, pressing the faintest kiss to Effie’s lips.
It was as light as a whisper, fleeting, barely there yet it felt life changing to Aster. She knew she could never go back to a life without Effie in it.
When Aster pulled back, Effie’s eyes were still closed, her lips slightly parted, as if she were frozen in the moment.
Aster’s heart pounded.
Effie blinked, her lashes fluttering as she slowly met Aster’s gaze.
For once in her life, the infamous Effie Trinket was speechless.
Aster, blushing furiously, turned to go, muttering under her breath, “I’m sorry. Please, forget I just did that.”
But before she could fully leave the space, Effie grabbed onto her wrist and spun her around, pressing her against the counter, hands on her hips, face dangerously close. “I don’t think I’m capable of forgetting something like that, darling.”
Her cockiness was back in full stride. The speechless woman was long gone. She cupped Aster’s cheek and leaned in for another kiss. A real one. Deep and long and exploratory.
Aster had never kissed anyone before, life in Eight hadn’t given her much time for dating, and when your name was in the bowl so many times, you kind of just waited until you were safely on the other side of 18 to start exploring. It was very unfortunate that Aster’s 19th birthday was just a few days after the reaping. She sang happy birthday to herself in the arena as her fellow tributes hunted her down.
“You’re thinking too much, dear. Kissing should be fun.”
Aster flushed and cleared her throat. “Well, excuse me, I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
Effie gasped dramatically. “Well, darling, we’ll just have to fix that won’t we?” And then Effie was kissing her again and again. All thoughts flew out of her head in an instant.
Like clockwork, the reaping was soon upon them and Aster a complete wreck. She didn’t want to mentor some young girl who was probably going to die in a few days time. She didn’t want to see 24 more people go into a slaughterhouse and be expected to cheer when only one of them came back out.
She didn’t know what was worse, dying in the arena or making it out and having to mentor the next generation of tributes knowing that they might never make it back out.
Cecelia had explained her duties to Aster. Accompany them to their interviews and such, give them as much advice as possible to help within the games, get them sponsors, etc. The last bit was probably the most important. It was now up to Aster, outside of the arena, to woo as many Capitol citizens as possible in the hopes of getting her tributes some help in there. Aster wasn’t very good at socializing, so this bit scared the hell out of her.
And to top it all off, she wouldn’t be seeing Effie until the whole thing was over. Sure, she’d catch glimpses here and there, but it wouldn’t look good for a District 8 mentor to be cozying up to the District 12 escort. This was still a competition after all. Wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea.
The last few months of their whirlwind relationship were everything Aster had dreamed of. Over the past few months, Aster and Effie’s relationship had unfolded in quiet, stolen moments. Impromptu dinner dates, galas, soft knocks on Aster’s door late at night, Effie slipping inside with a bottle of wine and a tired smile. Mornings spent wrapped up in each other’s arms, the way Effie would reach for Aster’s hand under tables, in empty hallways, anywhere they could get away with it. Effie had even come down to District 8 to spend a few weekends with Aster.
But now, that closeness was slipping away.
With the next Hunger Games drawing near, Effie had been pulled back into the Capitol’s clutches for endless meetings, preparations, and duties she couldn’t escape. Aster knew it wasn’t Effie’s choice, but it didn’t make the distance hurt any less.
She missed her.
Missed the warmth of Effie’s body beside hers, the soothing sound of her voice telling her terrible jokes or filling her in on the latest gossip, the quiet companionship as they worked on a new dress.
And now, as Aster sat alone in her room, staring at a letter Effie had sent, apologizing, promising she’d visit when she could, she felt that ache settle deep in her chest.
Because for the first time in her life, Aster had something worth missing.
And she hated the Games all the more for taking it away.
They were two days into the games, when Effie finally approached her, worry in her eyes. District 8 had already lost a tribute during the bloodbath. Only the girl, Maeve, was left and Aster was becoming severely tempted to try some morphling to calm her nerves.
Both District 12 tributes were alive and well, they seemed to be Capitol favorites this year.
“Aster, dear, so good to see you!” Effie bussed Aster’s cheeks, pretending they hadn’t seen each other in a while and wanted to catch up. Which was technically true.
Aster almost sagged against her before remembering where they were. “Effie! It’s great to see you, too.”
“Come, come! Tell me about your latest fashion line.” Effie was speaking deliberately loud as she led Aster out of the lounge and into a private room. She saw the District 12 mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, give them a strange look. She tried not to dwell on it.
Once they were safely inside, Aster clung to Effie in a tight hug.
Effie’s hand came to bury themselves in her hair, brushing her hair. “Oh, my love! I’m so sorry!”
Aster sobbed, letting out all of her frustrations.
Her tributes, the ones she tried to comfort three days ago, were out there, fighting, starving, dying, and all she could do was watch. She was supposed to be their mentor, supposed to help, but what could she do now? Nothing. Just like no one could do anything for her back then. The memories clawed at her, pulling her under, and her breath came in short gasps until soft hands wrapped around her own, grounding her.
“Aster, love, breathe,” Effie whispered, her voice warm and steady. Aster squeezed her eyes shut, feeling Effie’s fingers curl around her own.
“I’m here,” Effie murmured, her forehead pressing lightly against Aster’s temple. “You’re not alone.” She presses the faintest of kisses to Aster’s lips, reminding her of their first.
When they pulled away, Effie traced the poorly concealed bags under her eyes and pouted. “You’ve not slept a wink since the Games began, my love. You’re going to burn yourself out.”
Aster stepped away a bit, anger making her lips curl into a scowl. “How can I think about sleep when Maeve could die at any minute! It’s my job to try to help her in the arena and I can’t do that if I’m asleep, Effie!” Effie flinched at her tone of voice, but Aster carried on, “I don’t understand how you people just go on with your lives as if these kids aren’t brutally murdering each other right before our eyes! But, hey, at least your tributes seem to have a shot this year. ” She shook her head disappointingly.
Effie bristled. “You have every right to be angry, Aster. But you have no right to take it out on me!” Effie jabbed a finger at her chest. “You know first hand I’m nothing like them! I care, Aster! More than I should. I’m scared for them just as much as you are and I’m doing everything in my power to help my tributes the same way you are. But you won’t be giving them the best chance if you’re too tired to talk to sponsors! So, please, just go to sleep! I’ll wake you up in an hour. I promise.”
There were so many things Aster wanted to say. Mainly an apology. She was way out of line by comparing Effie to the other Capitol folks. But the couch at the center of the room looked too inviting. So, without a backwards glance at Effie, she went straight towards the couch and face-planted into it. It only took about a minute for her to fall into a restless sleep.
About what felt like a few minutes later, Effie was shaking her awake. “Darling, it’s Maeve. Wake up.”
At the mention of her tribute, Aster sprung wide awake. She sat up on the couch, making room for Effie to sit next to her as they looked at the screen where the Games were being broadcasted on. There was Maeve, huddling for warmth underneath a tree. The camera panned up to reveal Katniss Everdeen strapped to a tree about 100 yards away waiting to see what Maeve was gonna do. She looked pissed.
Aster clutched Effie’s hands as they watched Maeve gather wood to make a fire. “Maeve! What are you doing? You’re going to give yourself away!” Aster knew yelling at the screen wouldn’t do much, but the last sponsors she had talked to had denied Maeve a coat or blanket, so she didn’t know what else to do.
Effie rubbed her thumb over her hand in a soothing motion, but all it just made tears spring to her eyes. They both knew the inevitable was coming. As Maeve built a fire, slowly adding more pieces of wood and dry leaves, Aster began to spiral.
As soon as the first crack of a branch echoed through the arena, Aster knew it was over.
The fire had been a desperate mistake made by a desperate girl, and now the Careers had found her. The camera zoomed in on Maeve’s wide, terrified eyes as she scrambled to her feet, realizing too late what she had done.
Aster clutched Effie’s hand tighter, her breathing ragged. No, no, no, please. But there was no escape.
The Careers surrounded Maeve like a pack of wolves, their smiles cruel.
Aster couldn’t breathe. She had failed. She had failed Maeve.
The first blow struck, and Maeve let out a choked scream. Aster’s stomach twisted violently, the nausea threatening to spill out. She couldn’t watch this, she wouldn’t. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor, her body wracked with sobs as Maeve’s cries filled the room. She clamped her hands down over her ears, but it was no use. Maeve’s screams would be etched into her mind forever.
Effie was there in an instant, kneeling beside her, whispering words Aster couldn’t process. The screams seemed to be going on forever. Then, the cannon fired.
Silence fell over the room, but Aster barely noticed. Her sobs had lessened as another emotion began to take over, her defence mechanism, what had gotten her through her own games, Aster was disassociating.
She was broken.
She slowly lifted her head, her face streaked with tears, and looked at Effie. The other woman’s eyes were shining with grief, but she said nothing, waiting for Aster to speak first.
Finally, Aster spoke, her voice eerily detached. “I’m sorry.”
Effie frowned, shaking her head. “For what, dear?”
“For what I said earlier. You’re not like the others.” Aster exhaled shakily, wiping at her face. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Effie opened her mouth, but Aster was already rising to her feet, her movements mechanical.
“I’m going back to my hotel,” she said flatly. “Woof and I need to arrange transport. We’ll need to take our tributes home.”
Effie stood as well, hesitating before reaching out, her fingers brushing Aster’s arm. “Aster, please–”
But Aster barely felt it.
She was already walking away.
The weeks following Maeve’s death passed in a blur. Aster barely registered the passing of days as she was either drunk or passed out.
She ignored soft knocks on her door from Cecelia and the concerned notes slipped under the frame. She didn’t read them. Didn’t need to. She knew what they would say. I’m here for you. Please talk to me. I know what you’re going through. But what was there to say? Cecelia couldn’t change anything. No one could.
Effie called every day at first, her voice coming through Aster’s old landline, hopeful, then worried, then desperate. After a while, the calls became less frequent, then stopped altogether. But the letters kept coming, Aster recognized Effie’s neat, elegant handwriting before she tossed each envelope into the untouched pile on her nightstand.
She couldn’t deal with Effie’s sympathy. Not now when anything related to the Capitol would trigger her.
When the Victory Tour reached District 8, Aster didn’t go to the square. She couldn’t stand the thought of watching the pair of victors being paraded around, forced to smile through their pain. She also didn’t want to see Effie, dressed in her Capitol best, colorful wig and stunning makeup contrasting with the grim setting of District 8. She didn’t watch the broadcasts, either. When the Capitol’s invitation to the final celebration arrived, she burned it in the fireplace.
She knew this would anger the Capitol. But she didn’t care.
All she could think about was how this was her life now. Year after year, she would stand in that square as two names were reaped, mentor two more children, and watch them fight for their lives. And every year, at least one, if not both, would die. And she’d have to watch. Again and again and again. Until she became like Haymitch. Or worse.
The only small comfort was knowing that Effie’s tributes had won, both of them. That meant she’d be safe for now. The Capitol would keep her busy, occupied with her new victors, with interviews and the like for at least the next year. She wouldn’t have time to think about Aster.
It would be a full year before she saw Effie again. As predicted, having two victors had made Effie extremely busy, she hadn’t sent her a letter in 4 months. Aster was glad Effie seemed to have forgotten about her.
When the news of the Quarter Quell hit. Aster ran to Cecelia. They had hugged and cried and spent the rest of their time together preparing for the worst. She wondered how Effie felt. Having her two victors at risk of death, again, so soon. At least Peeta had a chance of not getting reaped, but Katniss had no hope. Her heart ached for Effie.
Today was the day. Reaping day. The escort, a Capitol woman with gleaming pearl earrings and a brittle smile, stepped onto the stage. “Welcome, welcome! It is time to select the tributes for the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games, our most glorious Quarter Quell!”
No one clapped.
Aster barely breathed as the woman moved to the first glass bowl, her manicured hand swirling inside before plucking out a slip of paper. “Ladies first.” She unfurled it with a theatrical pause.
“Cecelia–”
Before she could finish, Aster stepped forward. “I volunteer as tribute.”
A gasp that tore through the square. Cecelia pulled on my arm roughly. “Aster, no!”
The escort, too pleased to see the drama unfold, clapped her hands. "Oh, how exciting! A volunteer! Our female tribute is Aster Silversmith!"
Aster looked at Cecelia and then towards her three kids on the platform and smiled. Aster turned to her, quiet and steady, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Cece, you have a family. Kids. A life." She swallowed hard. "You have something left to live for. Let me do this." Since the announcement of the Quell, Aster knew she was heading back into the Arena. She couldn’t let those kids lose their mother.
Cecelia pulled her into a crushing hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She stepped back and stared intently at Aster. “I will do everything in my power to bring you back, again.”
Aster gave her a watery smile which made Cece break down in sobs and pull Aster into a deep hug as the Capitol escort reaped from the men’s bowl.
When Woof’s name was reaped all hell broke loose. There were gasps. There were shouts. Woof was seventy-eight years old. He could barely stand on his own some days. And the Capitol was sending him to die.
He took a slow step forward, stumbling towards the escort. Aster went to help him stand, leaving Cecelia a sobbing mess.
Then someone, Aster would never know who, pushed a Peacekeeper down.
The dam burst.
Cries of fury, of grief, of raw, boiling anger tore through the square as the fighting began. The Peacekeepers surged forward, weapons drawn, batons raised. Aster saw a man shoved to the ground, another struck across the face. A warning shot cracked through the air, but it wasn’t enough to silence them anymore.
Aster turned to Woof, who had closed his eyes in fear, ready to lead him to safety, when someone grabbed her arm. Cecelia.
"You need to go." Cecelia’s voice was tight, urgent. "They’ll punish us for this. The Capitol is watching."
Aster hesitated, her heart slamming against her ribs. She looked at the chaos unfolding, the people, her people, being struck down for their grief, their anger. The Capitol would punish them. They always did.
But Cecelia was right. She had no power here. Not yet.
Aster clenched her fists, forcing herself to step back. The Peacekeepers were storming through the crowd now, shooting anyone who got in their way. Aster wanted to scream, to help them.
But she didn’t. Instead, she turned to Cecelia, gave her one last look, and let herself be led into the Justice Building.
Behind her, District 8 burned with the embers of rebellion.
On the train towards the Capitol, Aster’s mind was racing with what she had just witnessed. Could it be possible? Could the districts rebel and put an end to all of this?
Just then, Cecelia settled in beside her with a sigh of relief. “The kids are safe.”
Aster frowned. “And the rest of the district?”
Cecelia looked away. “Let’s focus on you, shall we?”
Aster was going to argue, but the look in Cecelia’s eyes made her stop. She switched gears. “I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
“I need you to arrange some time for me to see Effie. A minute at least. I don’t care where. I just need to see her before I go into the arena.”
While Cecelia didn’t know of the specifics of her relationship with Effie, she knew they were close. “You got it.”
Aster sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
As soon as they stepped foot off the train they were swept away by all the preparations for the carriage ride.
Their stylists had dressed them in a mess of fabrics meant to emulate the different textiles they made in District 8, but Aster felt the look lacked cohesion. She felt like a giant blanket fort. Woof wasn’t faring any better. The poor man didn’t even know what day it was.
She was chatting with Johanna, the only friend she had made the year before, when the glowing caught her eye. She looked over and saw the tributes from 12 looking like burning pieces of coal, the lights emulating the real glow of smoldering embers.
Johanna scoffed, muttering something about how ridiculous they looked, but Aster knew she was just jealous her stylist was the worst of the lot.
Just as she was about to look away, Katniss caught her eyes. A dozen questions seemed to be swirling in those eyes, but Aster couldn't decipher any of them.
The spell was broken when the announcer spoke over the speakers telling them to get into positions.
The next few days were a blur. During training, she practiced her skills, picked up some new ones, and made some friends. For her individual assessment she grabbed a fishhook, some tarp, and copper wire and sewed a crude version of one of her designs. At the end of her fifteen minutes, she had only made the bodice and the Gamemakers looked bored. She threw the materials on the floor, took a bow, and made her way out.
What was the point of showing them a skill for the arena, when everyone already knew what she could do. That night, she saw a 7 pop up beside her name and whistled. “I thought I was getting a three.”
Cecelia sighed. “It’s a miracle you didn’t get a 1 with the stunt you pulled.”
The following day was supposed to be media training with Cecelia to prepare for her interview with Caesar, but Cecelia was nowhere to be found. When Aster got to the kitchen she found a note from her mentor that just said, Be careful.
Aster’s brows furrowed. What did that mean?
The entire apartment was empty. Not even the Avoxes were here to serve her breakfast. As she dug into her food, she wondered what Cece could be warning her about and why she had left her to her own devices today.
A few hours later, all of her questions were answered by the knock on her door. Aster barely had time to register the familiar sight of her, immaculate as ever, golden curls perfectly styled, pink lips pressed into a thin line, before Effie was on her. As soon as she opened the door she was engulfed by tulle and glitter, soft lips coming to rest against her own.
Effie!
In an instant, Aster had picked Effie up and twirled them around, nudging the door closed with her foot.
After the initial onslaught of kisses, Aster pulled away from Effie. “I need to apologize.”
Effie groaned in annoyance. “Shut up.” And pulled her back into a bruising kiss. After Effie’s apparent hunger was sated, she pushed Aster away. “I hate you. I love you and I hate you.”
Aster’s breath caught in her throat. “I’m–”
“Sorry, I know! You absolute idiot. Why would you do this?” she hissed, gripping Aster’s arms. “Why?”
Aster sighed. She had been expecting this. “Cece has a family, Effie. They need her. I couldn’t let her give that up.”
Effie’s expression crumpled. Her grip on Aster’s arms faltered, and she stepped back. “And you think I don’t need you?” Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “You think I don’t–” She cut herself off, pressing a trembling hand to her lips.
Aster swallowed hard. “Effie–”
But Effie shook her head. “No. No, you don’t get to apologize. You don’t get to choose who gets to need you, Aster.” Her voice cracked. “And now I have to stand there, pretend I barely know you, and possibly watch you–”
She choked on the words, shaking her head.
Aster exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry,” she said again, softer this time. “I didn’t– I didn’t think–”
Effie let out a broken laugh. “No, you didn’t.” Effie sighed. She reached out, hesitated, then cupped Aster’s cheek, her fingers barely brushing her skin. “Have you been sleeping, okay?”
The shift in tone made Aster relax. Effie wasn’t here to berate her or anything. She was here to check in on her. Aster shook her head.
Effie huffed out a laugh. “Figures. Come on, then.”
Effie led her towards the bedroom and stripped to her underwear before settling under the covers. Aster shrugged off the robe she had put on and joined Effie. She placed her head on Effie’s chest as the other woman wove her arms around her. They released a collective sigh.
Aster was just about to nod off when Effie whispered low in her ear. “Is it true? What happened in Eight?”
Aster lifted her head, surprised by the blunt question. “How’d you know?”
Effie pressed Aster’s head back to her chest and ran her fingers through her hair. “Your charming escort made a passing comment and Katniss had her theories.”
Aster’s mind flashed back to the chariots, Katniss staring at her inquisitively. How had she known?
Aster tightened her hold over Effie’s waist. “I’m afraid, if I win, there won’t be an Eight to go back to.”
Effie gasped quietly. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.”
Effie pressed a kiss to her temple. “There are… other Districts… going through the same thing as Eight.”
Aster looked up at her surprised. A silent conversation played out between them.
More districts are rebelling?
Yes.
What does this mean?
I wish I knew.
Before Aster could lay back down, Effie sat up and reached for the necklace around her neck. It was a simple gold chain with a gold band on it. In a quick motion, she undid the chain and closed it around Aster’s neck.
Aster’s hand went to the cool band resting against her chest. “What’s this?”
“I thought it could be your token, something to remember me by in the arena.”
Tears sprung to Aster’s eyes as she studied band. If she didn’t know any better she’d say it was a wedding ring. “Effie–”
“Let’s rest now, dear. Wouldn’t want you all tired for your interview tomorrow.”
Aster pressed a soft kiss to Effie’s lips and settled back down on her chest. She was out like a light.
There were two things that came to mind as the platform rose up towards the arena. One, Katniss Everdeen must live.
After her day with Effie talking about all the uprisings taking place, and the interviews, where Katniss wore the beautiful mockingjay dress, Aster knew Katniss was the face of the rebellion and to lose her now would bring the rebellion to its knees.
Two, she should have really taken up swimming lessons.
She was standing on a narrow metal plate, surrounded by water stretching out in every direction.
Her breath hitched. She was an ok swimmer, but if anyone decided to come after her she was dead in the water, literally. The Cornucopia loomed in the distance, perched on a circular platform rising just above the water’s surface, weapons and supplies gleaming under the sun.
Around her, other tributes stood on their own plates, scattered in a wide circle. Some looked panicked. Others, like Finnick, prepared. This is right up his alley.
Beyond the water was a sandy beach and then a lush green forest. Aster knew she wouldn’t survive a trip to the Cornucopia so she positioned herself accordingly. As soon as the Games began, Aster dove into the water, swimming towards the shore. As she trudged into the jungle she could hear the sound of the battle behind her. Guess we’re not holding hands anymore.
It was a full day before Aster encountered anyone. Already, the horrors she had witnessed as she ventured into the jungle were enough to scar her for a lifetime. Now, she was making her way down towards the beach when she came face to face with an arrow pointed at her chest. The tip was placed at the center of the ring Effie had given her.
“Where did you get that?” Katniss’ tone was suspicious and her look told her that one wrong move and she’d be dead.
Aster raised her hands in surrender and glanced around them, looking for the hidden cameras that were surely capturing this moment. “A mutual friend gave it to me.”
Katniss narrowed her eyes. “When?”
“Day before yesterday.”
Katniss stared into her eyes as if searching for a lie. When she found none she lowered her weapon and Aster sighed. Once again, Effie Trinket had saved her life.
Aster pressed a kiss to the cool metal and followed Katniss towards the beach.
Everything was a blur after that. The fog, monkeys, jabberjays, blood, tick tock, tick tock, the wire, the lightning–
When Aster woke up her arms and torso were covered in bandages, her body was on fire. Then she remembered. The lightning! She was standing too close to the wire when Katniss shot the arrow at the forcefield. The blast had knocked her out immediately.
Aster tried to sit, but the pain was too much. She made due with twisting her neck to get a good look at where she was. She recognized Katniss sleeping on the cot next to hers, Beetie on the one over. She looked to the right and saw Finnick sitting up and eating from a bowl. Behind him was Wiress, poking and prodding at the different equipment around her.
No sign of Johanna or Peeta. Aster hoped they were okay.
“Hey.”
Aster made eye-contact with Finnick and tried to smile, but it just came out as a grimace as the pain surged through her. “Hey.”
Finnick told her about District 13. About the uprising against the Capitol. Their plan to get Katniss out.
“You knew, didn’t you? About the plan?”
Aster shook her head. “All I was told was to stay close to Katniss.”
Finnick nodded in understanding. “Probably better that way. If you’d have been captured you wouldn’t have known anything.”
I nod and then realize, “Johanna and Peeta were captured?”
His face turns grim and he nods solemnly. “They’re strong. If anyone can handle Snow, it’s those two.”
I don’t know who he was trying to convince, but before either of us could say anything more, the pain overcame me and I was thrust back into darkness.
When I woke up again, Finnick was gone. Beetee was still unconscious, Wiress was curled up on herself reading from a tablet device, and Katniss was strapped down to her table, still unconscious.
Aster sat up slowly and swung her legs over the bed. The pain had subsided significantly. She didn’t feel like she was on the brink of death anymore. She stood and stretched her limbs, making Wiress look over in her directions.
Aster waved at her. “Hey, Wiress. How are you?”
Wiress smiled at Aster and shrugged. “Safe.”
Aster sighed in relief. Wiress may not have been very good with words, but the few words she did say were always insightful. “That’s good to hear. Do you know where we’re going?”
“13.”
Aster’s brows furrowed. “District 13?”
Wiress nodded and went back to tapping the device.
Aster decided it was time to get some more answers. She ventured out and followed the sound of voices. She peaked inside and sagged in relief once she saw Haymitch. She was a little confused at the sight of the Head Gamemaker, but Wiress had said they were safe, and Wiress was never wrong.
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”
Haymitch smirked. “Take a seat, darlin’.”
The next thing she knew, she’s in District 13. As they walked down the ramp of the hovercraft she felt hundreds of eyes turn to stare at them. The survivors. The victors.
Suddenly, there was a commotion and a red-headed woman came sprinting towards them. Aster watched as Finnick broke into a sprint and caught the woman as she jumped into his arms.
That must be Annie. Aster thought to herself, remembering the conversation they had had about her on the beach.
It was a heartwarming scene, something they all needed to see after the horrors they had faced just a few hours prior.
“Aster!” A familiar voice called out. Cecelia.
Aster ran into the arms of her mentor. “Cece! Are the kids okay?”
Cecelia nodded. “Thanks to you, kiddo.”
Aster released Cece from her embrace, and couldn't help looking around for someone. Cecelia caught her eye and laughed. “I’ll take you to her.”
The crowd that had formed had begun to clap for Katniss. A few even patted Aster on the back as she followed Cecelia. As a victor twice over, Plutarch said they’d be important for the rebellion. Aster had already been told she’d be appearing in a few propos, as he liked to call them. From one stage to another. At least here she had the freedom to go wherever she liked, mostly.
Cecelia led them into the dormitories composed of tiny rooms containing the bare necessities. At least everyone had privacy. Cecelia stopped at a door marked 213 and knocked.
“Come in.”
Aster’s breath hitched as she recognized Effie's voice behind the door. Cecelia squeezed her shoulder and left her to reunite with Effie.
She opened the door gingerly. Effie had her back to her, she was sewing a piece of fabric, but through the tiny mirror she had in front of her Aster could see her face. Her signature poise was gone, she was pale, her face bare of makeup, and her hair was once more wrapped in a simple scarf, no wigs in sight. Effie’s eyes met hers through the mirror and she gasped. Before Aster could even blink, the woman turned and rushed forward, nearly collapsing into her.
“Oh, Aster,” Effie breathed, her voice trembling. “You’re alive. You’re–” She broke off, pressing a shaking hand to Aster’s cheek.
Aster had no words. Her throat was tight, clogged with emotions she hadn’t had time to process. She had never thought she’d see Effie again. And here she was.
Effie let out a choked sob. “I thought–I thought I’d lost you.” Her hands fluttered uselessly before gripping Aster’s arm, holding on like she was afraid Aster would disappear if she let go.
Aster swallowed hard. “I made it.” It felt inadequate, but it was all she could manage.
Effie gave a watery laugh, shaking her head. “You stupid, reckless girl!” Her hands tightened. “Getting so close to that wire!”
Aster wrapped her arms around Effie’s waist and smiled. “In my defense, I didn’t know what Katniss was doing with that arrow.”
Effie laughed and pushed Aster onto the bed, settling on her lap. “You’re here now, dear. That’s what’s important.”
Aster nodded and buried her face in Effie’s neck, inhaling the scent that was inherently Effie. They stayed there for a while, just taking each other in.
Finally, Aster broke the stillness. “I’m scared, Effie.”
“Me too, love. Me too.”
Suddenly, realization dawned on Aster. “Oh, Effie!” She cupped Effie’s cheeks and stared into her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think to ask. How–”
Effie placed a finger over her lips. “It’s alright, love. A few Peacekeepers were moving in to arrest me when Katniss shot the arrow, but Haymitch offered me a much better option. As a plus, I got to see you again.”
Aster smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Still… You lost everything, Effie. Even your wigs. I’m sorry.”
Effie shrugged. “Once we’re through this, I’ll get it all back. For now, you’ll just have to deal with seeing this,” she said self-deprecatingly as she pointed to her face, “every day.”
Aster took the hand that was pointing and brought it to her lips. “You’re as radiant and beautiful as ever, Effie Trinket.”
Effie blushed, the lack of makeup making it more noticeably on her pale skin. “Stop it.”
“Never.”
Effie leaned in and they shared their first kiss since their goodbye.
After what seemed like an eternity, they pulled apart, flushed and breathless. Aster looked down and saw the ring that was still chained to her neck. She looked back up. “I love you, Effie.”
Effie sniffed, tears brimming. “I love you, too, Aster.”
Aster smiled and cupped her cheek. “I’m not leaving you again. Whatever happens now, we do it together.”
Effie nodded her agreement, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Together.”