Black birds in the misty and dark late afternoon skies screamed while black birds on the floor cried.
Of course, some of the birds on the floor also chattered around, spreading false rumors and lies despite the occasion, they never missed an opportunity to sow seeds of discord.
In some ways, Sera was the same.
Dressed in a short velvet dress with a skirt that resembled the petals of a black dahlia, Sera didn't look so different from the birds on the floor and she felt no different from them either. She felt an odd mix of guilt, regret, relief and in some ways joy just like those on the Colosseum floor.
The impressively large Colosseum of concrete and stone was filled to the brim after decades of being just a mantle piece on the Capitol streets. While the inside was stone with quartz decorating the seat, the outside was much more lavish.
From the outside, beige marble with pale gold veins covered the exterior, almost masking its bloody history as the arena from the first four Hunger Games and its present use as a glorified execution ground-another means of entertainment for the Capitolites.
The Colosseum had three floors. Its top floors were reserved for the elites-victors, senate members, wealthy Capitolites and the President. The bottom two floors were for everyone else lesser than those at the top. If that wasn't enough, the top floor had once again been split into thirteen to accommodate each of the districts and the Capitol.
The section dedicated to Twelve was the emptiest with lone victor Haymitch taking a nap on three seats, that was until almost all of the wealthy Capitolites were moved to that section. Needless to say, Haymitch wasn't happy.
One and Two were the most full sections with Four closely following behind and Three and Five at their tails.
Finnick stared solemnly at the ground in silence with Annie clinging to Mags next to him. When he spotted Sera's gaze on him, he turned to look at her but she quickly looked away as if meeting his gaze would turn her into stone. She had been avoiding him since he tried to question her about Annie's Victory Dinner.
With a sigh, she sat back in her cold hard marble seat. Her seat was smaller and almost hidden away behind the empty elevated white marble throne that belonged to the President who had yet to arrive. On the President's other side sat Plutarch Heavensbee clothed in black just like everyone else. The Senate members and the President were yet to make their appearance.
The two shared a glance before Sera turned away to observe the birds on the floor.
"You look tired." Plutarch commented quietly.
Her gloved hands scratched the marbled surface of the arms of her seat. "And you look happy."
The corners of Plutarch's mouth went up and he coughed a little, covering his mouth with a black handkerchief. "This is the biggest step we've taken in decades."
Her head moved a little to the side. "We?" She echoed back. "This was a one-time deal Mr Heavensbee."
"Ah, but it doesn't have to be." Plutarch motioned his head towards the Five section where she spotted Zephyr, Huxley and Estelle along with a pale-faced sickly Leora and an attentive Wells. "Zephyr seemed to enjoy our little collaboration and I know you did too."
"I know I did." It'd be a lie to say it wasn't thrilling to see her plans come to fruition and watch as the bodies dropped like flies. "But if you're smart-and I know you are-you'll understand why I'm trying to distance myself from everyone. Let's put an end to this. Many innocent people were caught up in our mess."
Plutarch chuckled, uncovering his face and he turned to her, his eyes cold. "Hardly anyone that was lost that day was innocent, Zephyr can attest to that with the list I provided you and Tamora with and remember it was your idea to get rid of Tamora-a splendid idea but still to back off when we've had one huge success is very short-sighted."
"We don't have the same goals." She dug her nails into the arms of the seat, almost forcing its way through the thick velvet gloves. "I'm selfish, I'm not ashamed to admit that anymore and I only agreed to go with your plans previously because I wanted that man gone and I didn't care who I had to take out to get what I wanted."
"Like what happened in the arena."
Sera's head snapped towards Plutarch and she quickly pretended that she was looking at the section next to him. District One's section was rowdy and many former victors were busy chattering to notice her movement.
"I survived, didn't I?" She muttered, relaxing with a false somber smile on her face.
"There's nothing wrong with being selfish but we both know you're more selfless than you let on which is why you're pushing Finnick Odair away."
She scoffed. "I'd have to be close to someone to distance myself from them."
"Of course, is that why he can't keep his eyes off you?"
True to Plutarch's words, Finnick was staring at her. His eyes never left hers, not until Annie pulled at the sleeve of his light black sweater to talk to him about something.
"Ah, nevermind. It seems he found someone else to occupy what little attention he has left."
A sharp pang of pain shot through her heart and her gaze hardened. She could've sworn she heard a quiet rip so she tightened her fists and removed them from the arms of her seat.
"Let's get back to the topic at hand."
"You know if I were you I would've chosen Agate-yes, he might've been just another career victor like the ones before him but at least a potential rival would be gone."
"She was-is important."
"Was she?"
"A m-mad victor is a perfect pawn."
Plutarch laughed a little, shaking his head. He looked proud and impressed but at the same time disappointed and unconvinced. "A pawn? Please, she's more than what you pretend her to be. She's a bandage to your guilt towards Finnick and-" Sera swallowed. She didn't want to hear him. "-a means to appease the ghost of that girl's sister-"
"And whose fault is that?" Sera questioned, her voice shaky and quiet. "You were the Head Gamemaker that year, it was partly your fault."
"No, I merely played my role-we all have our roles Seraphine and you know yours." He shifted in his seat and loosened his collar. "Now we need to break out of our roles like you helped Miss Cresta break out of hers."
"I was selfish and I wanted to protect those that I love."
"You can't protect your loved ones with what you have!" Plutarch hissed, frustrated by her words. "You need more. You need power."
"I don't need or want power." Sera grinded out.
The Gamemaker scoffed. He leaned back into his seat with a small smirk. "...Even though the seat that you sit on was gained because of our collaboration. You have power whether you like it or not." Sera clenched her jaws and focused her attentions on the people below.
Her seat felt much colder once her eyes laid upon the stand of the wronged man-the execution stand in gilded gold gleamed out brightly against the dreary weather. She gripped her seat and swallowed away whatever guilt she was feeling, the seat she sat on did not belong to her.
"You're right-unfortunately." Plutarch grinned. "We'll see how everything unfolds in the future but the moment you're exposed, I'm out."
"Understandable and Zephyr..."
"Ask him yourself."
From across her, she spotted the quiet family of four enter Twelve's section. Scarus and his father's blood-colored hair gleamed ominously like a halo of death in what little rays of light that escaped the covers of the dark clouds.
"Have you heard?" Sera heard one of the Capitolites whisper loudly from the bottom stands. They were so loud that anyone from the topmost stands could hear them clearly as if they were near. "The Redcliffs were close to the Thistlewoods..."
"I bet they'll be next." Another whispered.
"I heard they plotted it all."
"I heard they wanted to kill the victors."
"But why?"
"Well, isn't it obvious?" Another chimed in. "The victors have been getting too influential-that's what Director Walston used to say and he was quite close to Minister Thistlewood and the Redcliffs."
The group of Capitolites fell silent before looking around and carrying on. "I was there." One of them raised their hands proudly. "Minister Thistlewood even forced Seraphine Reza to drink when she can't."
They all gasped. "Why can't she drink wine?"
"Because she's sickly, you fool!" The Capitolites nodded in sync.
Sera let out a quiet laugh and quickly covered her mouth with her gloved hand. "Those people..." Plutarch lifted his head in response. "They know everyone can hear them, right?"
"They don't care." Plutarch responded. "It's not like what they're saying isn't on everyone's mind already."
"Still...gossiping at someone's public execution..."
Plutarch grinned and clasped his hands together. "Welcome to the real Capitol." He said before Sera was once again distracted by the voices of the gossiping Capitolites.
"I saw Annie Cresta-" One of the Capitolites on the floor faux-whispered. "The new victor, she also being forced to drink that poisoned wine."
"Is that why she's mad?" One Capitolite quietly asked.
Abruptly Finnick stood up, attracting Sera's attention away from the gossiping Capitolites. Sera pursed her lips and quickly ducked her head down to avoid his gaze while Mags hurried to grab onto him, to calm him while Annie covered her ears once more. This time she only had the two victors to calm her down, no sign of her friend from back home.
"What an emotional fool." Plutarch remarked, observing Finnick. Sera couldn't help but agree. "He's gonna have a hard time in the future."
Sera didn't say anything in response. She didn't want to think about Finnick or future. She wanted to forget everything if she could or run away from it all but it was all futile. Her thoughts were a waste, running away wouldn't solve anything and she couldn't forget him even if she tried to scrub his memories away from her mind.
The Capitolites shushed each other while Sera watched them from above, occasionally turning to check on Annie. Her eyes met Finnick's and it was him who turned away not her. Now it was him drawing the lines between the two just like she wanted him to from the beginning but somehow she wasn't happy or relieved.
She felt empty.
Her heart was heavy and would fall out of her chest. It was harder to breathe, the pressure on her chest increased and she had to take deep breaths to breath. She felt like she was drowning and tides kept pulling her under.
Forget about him.
Forget...
Her mind all but screamed at her as a dull headache started to form. She lightly rubbed her head to soothe the ache. It didn't go away and her mind felt hazy.
"I bet the Redcliffs are going to fall with the Thistlewoods." Another Capitolite said quickly, drawing her attention back to them. A welcome distraction from the sudden bout of sickness that came over her.
Would the Redcliffs fall that easily?
Sera had her doubts.
"What'll happen to them?" She asked. "The Redcliffs? Ic-Scarus' family? What'll happen to them?"
"Hmm." Plutarch hummed in displeasure. "Nothing unfortunately. They threw the Thistlewoods down the tracks, young Redcliff was...quite outspoken about it too...about how his godfather used him." Sera moved her gaze back down to the execution stand. "I suspect you had something to do with that-my question is why?"
Why?
She didn't know the answer to that yet.
Scarus was arrogant, unkind and dismissive to her since the two had met. He only got worse with each moment the two were around each other.
"I want him to suffer." Sera breathed out after much thought.
"You stabbed Tamora in the back but you wouldn't do the same for someone who actually deserves it-wouldn't death be the ultimate suffering?"
"Not necessarily. Death is an end to one's suffering but one's death can also lead to the suffering of others." That was something Sera learned early on. She'd lost her father, her mother, her allies and her aunt. She knew that though their suffering was over, the one they left behind still suffered and nothing she would do in the present heal that suffering and at best, she'll only be mitigating that pain.
Plutarch nodded somberly and motioned for an avox to the sides. From one of the pale stone columns, a male avox dressed in pale white stepped out with a tray of a clear drink. Plutarch took the drink and dismissed the avox with a nod. "I suppose you're right, making him and his family lose everything would be much better. After all they are fates worse than death like true death."
Sera sat up and couldn't help but actually turn to Plutarch before quickly looking away before anyone noticed her action. "True death?" She echoed back with interest.
"True death." Plutarch repeated. "It's what the President ordered for the Minister, a true death."
Sera clicked her tongue in annoyance. "You keep talking about a 'true death' without even explaining what it is? What the hell is a 'true death'?"
Plutarch chuckled at Sera, how her district accent leaked into her words with each word spoken in frustration, muddling up her Capitol speech. "A true death is when someone dies twice. The first time, their body is killed or they just...die."
"This elaborate execution is a show, isn't it? To appease the people before they do something...rebellious."
"Exactly. It's the last memory they'll have of the accused before his second death."
"Which is..."
"Death of memory or damnatio memoriae."
"What does that mean? Death of memory, damnat-io-"
"Damnatio memoriae-condemnation of memory-his memory, it'll be like the Thistlewoods never existed."
Sera sat up in alarm. "The entire family?" Plutarch nodded. "How is it possible to erase someone's memory-existence from the minds of the entire nation?"
"It's easy, just don't think about it. The less you think about someone or something, eventually it'll fade out of one's memory."
"And if the entire nation stops talking about the Minister after his death then he'll be forgotten?" She asked, doubt in her voice that she didn't bother to mask. She just didn't think it was possible, not after the public execution.
"Obviously there's extra steps." Plutarch paused before carrying on. "Every picture, portrait, statue or anything related to him and that phony director of that orphanage will be destroyed ensuring complete death."
"Out of sight, out of mind." Sera commented. "It seems almost impossible..." Her gaze wandered over to the Four section where Finnick was busy talking to someone Sera didn't know or care enough to know.
"Some people are quite hard to forget especially if they're alive."
"So it only works in death? Erasing someone from memory"
"Exactly." Plutarch smiled widely. "A perfect death for someone like Janus, a true death." He took a sip of his drink and grinned drunkenly. "Though I do have a question?"
Sera stiffened. "I have nothing more to say."
"Nothing?" Plutarch echoed. "Well, I just wanted to know why you're going through all this trouble to push someone like..." His eyes wandered to Finnick's and Sera followed his gaze. "Him, when you know how unforgettable he is. Why get involved with him in the first place?"
"I'm not-" She sighed. "He just...crept up on me and I didn't realize it but if I did, I would've drawn a line."
"Because it worked so well before." He said gruffly. "I don't know why you bother. He'd be a good asset to us."
"You said it yourself, he's too emotional." She said without thinking and she already regretted it. "If you want him on your side, go for him but-" She paused, adjusting the gloves on her hands. "If you bring him in, I'm out."
Plutarch frowned. "That's a little unfair unless...you don't want him to find out about your involvement."
"That's exactly it."
"Harsh. He'd be more inclined to help if you were honest with him."
Plutarch's words stung a little. Finnick trusted her or he did in the past, she wasn't sure anymore. He wanted to see the best in everyone including her and she never wanted to show him the worst of her so she chose silence even though it might be the cruelest choice.
Neither had spoken since the tragic dinner. How could they? She ran away or tried her best to avoid him, knowing he suspected her. But he trusted her, enough to give her the benefit of the doubt.
She sucked in a nervous breath and let it go, trying to calm herself. Her vision was foggy and her head felt heavy. She shut her eyes.
Snow was all she could see for miles on end. Plutarch and the Colosseum were nowhere in sight and she was alone in the cold bitter whiteness.
Almost alone.
She heard footsteps and smelt the familiar scent of blood before she saw them.
In the midst of a snowstorm waited an small army of dead. Many were husks, bones and just decayed flesh, unrecognizable to her at first glance but the more they lethargically marched toward her, the more clearly she could see them.
Eugene with his deformed figure led the pack, hobbling on with a broken neck while Amethyst blindly followed with her hollowed out eyes. The two hissed out indecipherable words in anguish as they advanced.
There were more faces than last time, the faces she had forgotten.
Kairos, the little boy who had become her first victim outside the arena, weakly marched. His pale face and darkened hollow eyes. It looked like the bottom of his eyes had been pulled and stretched till they hung so low.
He didn't smile at her like he did the last time he saw her, no, he was crying blood and screaming in agony. His parents marched on with him, the headless Consul and his silent wife.
The storm grew wilder and wilder whipping past her, cutting her like blades she once wielded in the arena.
Still she didn't look away.
When the storm parted, she didn't hear the haunting whispers anymore but instead she could hear a quiet but eerie symphony. Violins, harps, cellos and more strummed on disharmonious.
Pale spectral figures with scratched up bloody faces and necks slow danced rhythm-lessy on the lacquered ballroom floor.
Though snow, glass and blood covered the familiar lacquered ballroom but the guests paid them no mind, too lost in the rhythm to pay it any mind. They danced past her in a daze but the music abruptly stopped and the couples parted slowly before their heads sharply turned to her with a loud click.
In a trance, their cold bloodied eyes glared at her as if their looks could kill before cold hardened hands cupped her face. She didn't want to look, she wanted to turn away but the grip of the phantom was too strong for her and she couldn't turn away.
She breathed heavily, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, she stared into the soulless eyes of her once beloved aunt.
Hollowed out cheeks, thinning head of once luscious hair and foggy eyes, her aunt looked like a stranger to her.
"Seraphine..." Her aunt croaked out.
With a soft gasp, Sera opened her eyes. The sharp lights nearly blinded her and it took her a moment to adjust to the light. Plutarch stared at her in concern when she came to her full senses. He raised a brow and motioned an avox to come forward with a glass of water for her.
Skies above had darkened considerably and the clock on the floating screen told her that the sun was about to set or had set already. Lights in the Colosseum had turned on but the President and the Senate were still nowhere to be seen. It was getting late and she could hear some Capitolites already getting agitated with the long wait.
"If..." Sera breathed out weakly before taking a sip of water and a pill from the jar of medicine in her purse to calm her aching heart. "I had a choice: I'd erase many things from my memory."
"Like Finnick?"
"Finnick isn't the only thing I'd like to forget."
Without a word she took it and waited for his questions but they never came. Instead, she heard him sigh before mumbling out a quiet. "I'm sorry."
Sera couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. "No, you're not." He did what he had to put on a good show and she just so happened to be caught in the crossfire. He was right, they all had their own parts.
"I suppose I'm not but I thought you would-"
"You thought wrong. I prefer honesty above false kindness." She finished the glass of water and handed it back to the avox. "Ironic, isn't it? I'm a hypocrite."
"That makes two of us."
The two shared a look and nodded as loud trumpets sounded loudly nearly deafening the guests at the Colosseum before the face of Caesar Flickerman flashed onto the floating screen.
For once the flamboyant man wasn't dressed in gaudy or garish clothes. Just for the occasion, Caesar had seemed to have swapped out his typical gaudy getup for a black and silver damask suit. His hair and eyebrows were dyed black while his lips and eyes painted a pale white, giving him an almost sickly appearance.
The screen shifted to focus on various victors. Cashmere and Gloss bowed their heads in respect when the camera focused on them while Enobaria glared at the camera. Some victors and elites didn't even react.
When the camera pointed at Annie, she jumped in horror and covered her face before the camera quickly pivoted to where Sera and Plutarch sat between an empty seat.
The trumpets screamed loudly once more and everyone stood up.
President Snow, escorted by a group of Peacekeepers, entered. Quietly he stalked towards his throne and stood before it. Seconds after, the members of the Senate began filling in and taking their seats.
Usually applause and cheers would greet the President but on that particular day, no one moved an inch when the President walked in. They all simply bowed their heads in respect and the President nodded somberly with a hint of a smile gracing his lips.
The President raised his hand, silencing the trumpets. In a loud but eerily calm voice, he started his address. "Citizens, victors and members of the Senate, we all gather here at sunset to mourn and to remember all that we have lost, let us take a brief moment of silence at the site that has witnessed the first five Hunger Games and remember those whose lives were cut short by the traitorous Janus Thistlewood."
Quiet murmurs of disdain followed the mention of Minister Thistlewood before silence engulfed the arena. The silence stayed for only a minute before the President signaled to the guards on the ground.
Drums started beating and the crowd started cursing quietly. The curses gradually grew with each beat of the drum before the gates opened. A haggard shell of a man dressed in rags covered in blood, sweat and waste was dragged out in chains by Peacekeepers and Elite Guards he was once in charge of.
Sera could've sworn she saw a grin on the President's face but it was gone the moment she had seen it.
President Snow raised his hand, silencing the crowd as a violent gust of cold air sliced through them all. It seemed winter had come early. Sera couldn't help but shiver and pull up the sleeves of her glove in an attempt to shield herself from the sudden cold.
"Janus Thistlewood of the once loyal and dedicated Thistlewood family, you and your late sister..." President Snow spat out. "Have been charged with counts of treason, attempts to poison a sitting President, the many victors and members of the Senate alongside charges of mass murder." President Snow paused for a breath. "You have also been charged with counts human trafficking, partaking in slavery and allowing and enabling the Director of New Hope Orphanage, Cassius Allard to engage in child trafficking-"
Gasps of shock echoed around the Colosseum. Even Sera was stunned. The saint-like Director Allard? No one could believe it but somehow it all made sense. Harp's behavior and the way she spoke of the two men made so much sense.
"On top of all these heinous charges, you planned to disrupt the peace of Panem by planning and partaking in a rebellion."
Janus Thistlewood shook his head desperately, swaying back and forth mumbling incoherently.
"Taking into account all your crimes, we have no choice but to deem you..."
The crowd chanted 'guilty' like frenzied hounds baying for blood. It didn't feel like an execution anymore it felt as if she was watching a play and the crowd were the audience but it wasn't a play, it was an execution.
The President had no problem playing along to the whims of the crowd. He glanced over at the Redcliffs on the opposite side and glanced down at the pathetic Janus Thistlewood like he was an insect who wasn't even worth his time.
"I deem you guilty." He declared and leaned back into his throne as the drums pounded once more and the crowd screamed with joy at the sentencing. "For the poisoning and torture of innocents, you will be punished accordingly."
There was nothing else to say as the guilty man was dragged to the stand where a large crystal goblet of red wine awaited him. Minister Thistlewood tried to plead and scream, a sharp contrast to the formerly proud man but all of his words came out muffled as if he had been silenced already.
Sera looked away while Minister Thistlewood was forced onto his knees. The sound of bones shattering was heard in between the curses and shouts of the crowd. Wine was poured into his mouth and down his throat before they made him stand again.
The pathetic man was on the floor once more as the cold wind sliced through the Colosseum once more but this time bringing in waves of snow and ice.
Sera watched silently as the snow quickly started to cover the ground and the Colosseum in its pale and cold covers while the disgraced Minister danced on the floor in agony. The crowd jeered at his misery, almost a little too happy at his death though it would be the last they'd ever see of him or even think of him.
The disgraced Minister rolled on the ground clawing at his neck, drawing up blood before standing up and hobbling around. His muffled screams of help were drowned out by the crowds of scorned Capitolites. His bloodshot crazed eyes searched the sea of black, desperately searching for one soul to help him but no one bothered to move, no one would.
It was a miracle he wasn't dead yet.
Sera suspected the President was purposely drawing out his death to not appease the masses but to send a message. She didn't really care. She wanted to get out. She had seen enough. Even though she had no problem watching the guests at the dinner die, she didn't particularly enjoy watching people die. She had enough ghosts haunting her already, she didn't want another to join.
Another Peacekeeper approached Minister Thistlewood, behind him was an Elite Guard. Sera leaned forward in her seat, her breath catching in her throat as she let out a quiet choked sound. She covered her mouth with her hand and turned to the President who looked at her with a hint of a smile.
She sharply turned back to the scene below her.
It couldn't be...
There was no way he'd agree to it.
"Is that..." She heard Plutarch say as he pointed at the hooded Elite Guard, followed the Peacekeeper to where the disgraced Minister was.
"Icarus Redcliff?" A minister said before Plutarch could. "Why..."
"Young Icarus was bold enough to ask for this opportunity. He was after all," President Snow glanced over at the hooded Scarus. "He was one of the victims."
Sera almost scoffed at the President's words. Victim? Scarus? Scarus was the last person who would ever be a victim to that bastard Minister. If anything he gained the most out of helping him then why...
Oh.
Oh.
It took her a minute to understand Scarus' mind and she almost laughed.
Everything for ambition, he had once said and it seemed he meant it.
"How admirable of him." Sera found herself saying with a painted sad smile and hollow eyes.
President Snow nodded. "Indeed. It's a shame he won't be guarding you anymore."
"Yes it is a shame." For Scarus not for her.
On the ground, Scarus stared down at his once beloved godfather with a cold gaze before kicking him down and breaking whatever bones he had left intact. He directed the Peacekeepers to hold the disgraced Minister up once more.
Some screamed out in horror. Sera distinctly remembered hearing Annie's scream and she resisted the urge to look at the Four section of the Colosseum, almost gluing her eyes to the ground below.
Scarus went back to grab the crystal goblet and held it up for another Peacekeeper. More wine was poured into the goblet till it was flowing with red. The deep crimson liquid gleamed brightly in its vessel as Scarus held up the crystal goblet for all to see with a victorious grin on his face.
Above the Colosseum, the screen turned towards Scarus' family. His father was the only one who looked remotely pleased with the turn of events. He looked proud of eldest while his youngest covered his mouth in horror and Scarus' mother seemed apathetic and detached from it all.
Sera felt sick despite taking medicine to calm her heart, she felt like she was going to throw up. It wasn't just the way the minister was being treated that made her sick but the crowd screaming for blood and the blood-like wine in the crystal glass, it all made her feel sick.
She couldn't watch anymore but she couldn't even look away.
Where could she shift her attention to?
Scarus forcefully pulled open his disgraced godfather's mouth and held up the goblet of poisoned wine. With a last glance at Sera, he poured the wine into his godfather's mouth, forcing it in before clamping his mouth shut.
The dosage of poison must've been stronger than last time as the guilty man clawed even harder at his neck and face. He fell to the floor and rolled around on the ground as snow quickly covered his form.
With a loud muffled gasp for air, he started foaming at the mouth. Blood poured out his mouth and his eyes bled red before he went limp.
Snow covered his body but it didn't cover everything. Sera could see it all from she sat that there were remnants of him still peeking through but most of all she could see the blood in the snow still fresh and warm.
༺═──────────────═༻
Plant Dictionary:
Black Dahlia - Betrayal and Sadness