The Tributes of Twelve | Newt x Reader

32 | Alternate Ending Part 7

"Thank you," I say to the young female Avox, a girl, really, who's handed it to me, and she smiles wordlessly, although even this seems like a effort on her part. She nods and hands me a platter of food that, thankfully, does not resemble the food from the arena. A bread roll, a glass of plain milk, and a peeled orange. I choke it down, and find that I can barely eat.

"Where's Newt?" I immediately ask the Avox, and though she doesn't respond with words, I can see the glimmer of affirmation in her eyes and a wave of reassurance shoots through me before she takes the platter away and I fall into another bout of dreamless sleep.

The cycle continues. I wake, the girl comes in, I ask her about Newt, she nods affirmation, I eat, I sleep. I can't tell you how many times it happens, but when it does for the final time, I wake up to see a dreaded outfit laid out at the foot of the bed. The same outfit we all wore in the arena.

I hesitantly get up and put it on. The fact that no one's stopping me doing this is a good sign, right? Shaking, I hear familiar voices sound out from the hall.

"Newt?" I shout, cupping my fingers around my mouth as I walk into the room at the end of the hall. "NEWT!"

"Not Newt, y/n/n," I hear a voice say behind me, and I spin around to see Minho standing there in all his glory, his arms extended for a hug. I leap into his arms and shake in his brotherly embrace.

"I'm so glad to see you, ya shank," I smile at him, and then turn around to see Ava standing behind him. I launch into her arms after only a second's hesitation, but it's rather awkward when I detach myself from her. Behind Ava stands Thomas, a green ivy wreath on his short, dark locks.

"Thomas," I breathe, and throw my arms around him, too. "I've missed you."

"Missed you too, Greenie, but I think you've had enough fun with Newt, by the looks of it," he grins.

I blush at his brotherly sort of comment. "The Capitol televised all of it?" I mutter, picking a piece of fluff off my green jacket.

"Pretty much," Thomas answers, and I look down at my feet in mortification, and look behind my stylist.

"Speaking of Newt, is he safe? Where is he? Did he get taken away? Is his ankle alright? What happened to him?" I ask when I don't see either Brenda or Newt himself behind Thomas. Pain shoots through me, red hot and ice cold at the same time. What if he didn't make it?

"Relax, y/n/n," Minho drawls. "They want to show your reunion at the ceremony, that's all."

"Oh. Okay," I reply, and try to shake off the worry. "So when is the victor's ceremony?"

"Soon," Thomas puts in. "In fact, I'm supposed to take you to your prep team now."

I sigh. "More costumes? Makeup? Capitol people?" I mutter, and roll my eyes.

Thomas smiles. "I'm afraid so, Greenie."

I follow him into a different room, then up an elevator, leaving Minho and Ava behind with a final hug each. "By the way, Thomas, where did 'Greenie' come from?" I ask, putting air quotations around the word 'Greenie'.

"I don't know," he answers, furrowing his brow. "I used to be called it when I was new to being a stylist, and I've passed it on."

I shrug my shoulders, and he elbows me. "What would you prefer to be called, Greenie? Love?"

I send him a death glare and nearly choke on my own saliva. "I would prefer it if you didn't call me 'love'."

"That's for Newt, right?" Thomas says, and I death stare him again. "Relax, Greenie. We're here."

The elevator door slides open to reveal three Capitol citizens standing there, before they all charge towards me, squealing and giggling. When I finally manage to extract myself, I recognise, first, Sereia, her sliver skin and red eyes glinting, then Evrin, her young-looking eyes twinkling as she grasps Locliel's hand.

They continue to giggle and congratulate me as they lead me into the dining room, teasing me about Newt as we take our seats. Evrin leans over, her chin resting on her hand, and proceeds to try to worm every detail of the Games that they didn't watch out of me. As I swallow down clumps of pumpkin soup and Capitol bread, all they can talk about is the Games, and Newt and me.

It only takes a little while, by which I mean hours, to get my body to look like it did before the Games. Even after a dozen showers and hundreds of lotions across my body, face and hair, my broken frame, skinny and hunger-ruined body is still visible. Still, as Evrin paints the last coal-black design to my cheekbones, the three of them stand back and examine their newest piece of work, me, with satisfaction.

"You look beautiful, y/n," Sereia says, and smiles a genuine smile. "Now smile! You've just won the Hunger Games!"

I try to work my features into a smile, but it's hard when all I want to do is go home, see Newt again, and sip mint tea with my father, Chuck, and Newt.

"Perfect," Locliel puts in, "now, let's get Thomas!"

They come back, with Thomas, who's holding a small black dress in his arms.

"Close your eyes, Greenie," he orders, and I obediently do just that as he slips the material over my body, and sandals to my feet. "Now, open."

I open my eyelids and look in the mirror at my reflection. A black dress similar to the one of the interviews, but it's ankle-length this time. Coal-black sandals cover my feet, and my hair is styled, curled over my shoulders with two braids held in place with the bronze ribbon. Across my cheekbones are grey, black and white designs, although the rest of my face is relatively free of makeup.

"Thank you," I tell Thomas genuinely.

"All good, Greenie," he says with a smile. "Now, let's go and show the Capitol the female victor of District Twelve!"