[Flowers] • The Hunger Games

Twenty Nine

Asteria was often labeled as "combative" by the Capitol authorities.

Peacekeepers, game-makers. All knew very well by now how skilled and capable she was. She'd punched a peacekeeper in the face and it left the nation in a state of panic and disarray. It sprouted rebellion in district eleven, smaller uprisings throughout more of the other districts.

So, as they were pulled away, she was put by herself. She was sure the same thing had happened to Gale. She knew he'd be yelling, fighting- doing whatever he could to give his last goodbyes to his family and Katniss. Actually, of the two twelve tributes for this year- she was currently the least combative.

But nonetheless- she was put in a room by herself. She could see the district outside. There were maybe a few salutes in the air- followed quickly with the scatter of fearful citizens as the Peacekeepers began to declare order over the district. Asteria watched people run the streets of twelve as the train readied to leave the station.

She fearfully wondered who her new adversaries would be. Some of them were plain options. The only female victor from the lumber district, 7, was Johanna. So- she'd have been reaped. She was sure that district 9 only had one living male tribute, and maybe two or three female. Maybe Seeder and Chaff- though she wasn't sure. But they'd been the mentors from 11 for a long time and she couldn't recall victors after them.

Asteria paced the floor of her room. It was the waiting that killed her. They hadn't even left 12's station yet and she already began running her thoughts at a mile a minute.

She was a tribute now. Not a mentor, not a victor. But a tribute once more.

That reality sunk in as quickly as she could manage to process it. And, once that was over, she began to get herself thinking like a tribute again. Her original victory in the 66th games had come from her use of intellect and manipulation. But now- the Capitol and the other tributes knew full well what she was capable of. How deadly and deceitful her little act had truly been. She couldn't rely on those to win her these games.

Did she even want to win these games?

Yes. Obviously- but also...it was a complicated question. Did she want to return to the quaint, peaceful life of district twelve? Did she want to forget all about Coriolanus Snow, about the games, about even the districts themselves? Of course she did. But winning- winning was a much easier thought than it would be to actually achieve.

Even if she could win against the other tributes. Which- depending on who was reaped, was a feat in and of itself- did she truly want to return to her life there? Where Snow would be watching her every move? He'd be waiting to torture her as much as he could for the rest of his life. As if he hadn't already taken enough from her.

Even if she could win- did she want to? The deaths of not just her other tributes- but the other victors- their blood staining her hands. She wasn't exactly friends with many of them. She might even be able to name the ones she could simply tolerate on one hand. But- they were still people that she knew. Not faceless, nameless tributes. But people just like her.

This had been her fault. While the Quarter Quell was supposedly written potentially decades in advance- Asteria was no fool. She knew that this concept had been brewed up directly as a result of her own actions. Because of the berries, because of the speech, because of her outright refusal and hostility towards President Snow to his face. All of this had been set in motion from the moment he realized how much of a threat she really was to him.

She never intended on being a threat. She never intended on anything other than protecting her people. She wasn't trying to be a martyr, a revolutionary- but Snow was incapable of seeing things from her perspective.