number forty-five

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Backstage, Dennis and Iphigenia stood huddled together with Aries as the television blared the ongoing Capitol interview with Katniss and Peeta

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Backstage, Dennis and Iphigenia stood huddled together with Aries as the television blared the ongoing Capitol interview with Katniss and Peeta. The cameras captured the crowd's adoration as if the Games had never happened, as if blood hadn't been spilled for their entertainment. 

Iphigenia was still crying, a crumpled tissue clutched in her trembling hand, unable to process the events that had unfolded. Dennis held her close, arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders. They were both in stunned disbelief, shaken not just by the fact that Aries and Estella had survived, but by how they had done it—defying the rules, rewriting the narrative.

At one point, they had believed Katniss and Peeta were the Capitol's darlings—the ultimate pair. But now? The spotlight seemed just as fixed on their own tributes. Aries stared at the couple on screen like they'd grown another head.

"You okay?" he asked, eyes wild and uncertain. He had never been good with emotions—least of all tears. Especially from adults. "We're fine, Aries. Just... shocked," Iphigenia replied, her voice cracking with the weight of too many feelings. Aries, ever uncomfortable with sentimentality, turned his attention back to the screen. One glance told him everything—Katniss and Peeta were reading off a script, each word too clean, too polished.

He wasn't dumb, maybe an IQ under average, but he survived.

He knew the Capitol was in chaos after the berry stunt, a gesture of rebellion disguised as romance. And while Katniss had carried it out on camera, Estella and Aries had been seconds away from doing the same. Still, watching Katniss play up her love for Peeta, pretending heartbreak and longing, made his stomach twist. The girl on fire didn't even know what love was—not really. Not the kind that carved into your bones, not the kind that left you hollow.

Rolling his eyes, Aries scanned the room. "Where's Estella?" he asked, hoping to find comfort in her presence. Dennis glanced at him, then gestured casually. "She's with Poppy. Last-minute makeup," he replied before gently nudging Iphigenia away, letting her excuse herself to check on the girls.

Dennis remained, watching Aries closely. There was something distant about him now—an emotional buffer that hadn't been there before. The tributes weren't celebrating like Katniss and Peeta. They hadn't wept, hadn't embraced the cameras. Instead, there was an unsettling stillness in them—a mystery lingering just under the surface.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Aries said suddenly, eyes locked on Dennis. His tone was quiet but insistent. He was referring to the Capitol's reaction, to President Snow's fury—not just about two victors, but four. Dennis sighed. "You're going to find out anyway." Aries nodded in agreement.

"You know the President is furious," Dennis added, his voice barely above a whisper. It was dangerous to talk openly, not with so many ears around them. Aries's jaw tensed. "I know," he said. Both men returned their gaze to the screen, watching the Capitol try to mask the cracks forming in its polished surface.

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