"Dahlia Blossom. Don't let the name fool you. She's better known as the Black Dahlia. And she didn't earn that nickname by smiling and looking pretty."
"She sure knows how to perform for the camera."
"Because she knows how to play the game. She alwa...
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"Ladies and gentleman, the Victor of the 66th Hunger Games. The Black Dahlia!"
That was the introduction she got in every District she visited. They didn't use her real name. They used the one the Capitol had bestowed on her. Snow's orders, apparently. An attempt to solidify the unattainable character she had become. But in Dahlia's eyes, it was a way to dehumanize her. Make her seem like a Career or an extension of the Capitol. To put her in her place. As if Snow was trying to hint that this is who she is now and she can't change that. Everyone in Panem had witnessed her brutal finale and that's all they'll ever associate her with.
She had numbly complied with Magenta's instructions for the outlying districts. Making the speech, offering condolences and praising the Capitol like an obedient puppet on a string. They had no issue with her and she'd had none with them. The only death from their districts she had been responsible for was Jean from Eight, but it was assumed that the girl wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway.
The hardships started when Dahlia arrived in District Four. She knew this would be the most difficult one, both for her and for the District. She had killed Caspian and Cove died in her arms. Dahlia assumed they wouldn't be happy with her for killing off their Careers and denying them another victory.
"Now, chin up. Shoulders back." Magenta orders, ushering Dahlia towards the doors of the Justice Building. "Just read from the card and don't stray from the script."
"Yes, sir." Dahlia replies blandly, defeated and worn out from the constant pressures placed on her shoulders. Glancing back at Alaric as she prepares to go onstage, the man gives her a reassuring nod and a smile to ease her troubled mind. Dahlia doesn't have the energy to even force a smile back as District Four's Mayor starts to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Victor of the 66th Hunger Games. Dahlia Blossom."
The doors are opened immediately, giving no time for Dahlia to process the shock of his words. He said her name. He actually said her real name. Such a tiny detail sparked such joy in her. It felt like a sign from Cove, a small acknowledgement that she was watching over her. With more bounce in her step than she'd had on the entire tour, Dahlia strides out onstage with purpose. This District is usually supportive of the Victors, cheering for them as they appear. But for Dahlia, the crowd stays silent.
"Thank you." She acknowledges the Mayor, gripping tightly onto the prepared speech card. The words sound robotic. They are recited and flawless, but cold. There's no emotion or meaning behind it, but they distract her from the image of Cove's face projected on the screen. "It is an honour to be standing before you today as a Victor. A title I hoped to achieve from the moment I volunteered."
The next lines require her to address the families of the fallen tributes, which forces her to tear her gaze away from the card and look up. Across the silent crowd, the first thing she finds is a familiar pair of eyes staring back at her. Sea-green, like Cove's. For a moment, she could be tricked into thinking her friend had returned from the dead. But flaming red hair is the second thing to catch her eye.
