The six months leading up to Dahlia's Victory Tour were anything but the calm and peaceful time she had been craving. Although the Blossom family were moved into the Victors' Village, their new house was big enough for them to avoid Dahlia like the plague. They tiptoed around her as if they were walking on egg shells, terrified of upsetting or aggravating her. Their distance hurt more than any physical wound Dahlia could ever receive.
Most of her time was now spent at Alaric's house, which was right across the street. The pair enjoyed each other's company, finding solace in someone who had gone through similar experiences. He was also the only person Dahlia had left who knew how tortured her mind had become. Dreams plagued by distorted memories. Manic episodes where she's convinced that Cove's blood is on her hands. Sheer terror whenever she's plunged into complete darkness. Some nights, Dahlia relived the moment where she was falling down the tunnel and her body feels like it's plummeting through a never-ending pit. She always finds herself jerking awake with a jolt as if she had finally landed on solid ground.
Alaric's house was the only place she felt like she could be herself. Her family had made it quite clear that they didn't know who she was anymore and the rest of her district was stuck on the idea that she was a coldhearted bitch. With Alaric, Dahlia got the chance to be what she truly was; a child. Together they found a happiness that could only come from a healthy father-daughter relationship.
Dahlia taught him how to cook. Alaric taught her how to tend to his garden.
She opened up to him about the pain caused from Cove's death and her family's hurtful avoidance. He told her about the loved ones that were taken from him and showed her the tattoo he has with the names of every tribute he's ever mentored.
It was a light in the darkness for both of them. Neither would have survived this long without the other. And they would be clinging on even tighter as the tour was rapidly approaching.
"You are nervous." Alaric observes, reclining in an armchair as he watches Dahlia race around her room in a flurry.
"And here I thought I was doing such a good job at hiding it." Dahlia replies in a deadpan tone, trying to work out what she'd need to take with her on a tour of the districts. Would the Capitol provide her with everything she needs? Or was she required to bring her own things? She felt so underprepared for this. "Six months of freedom from the prying eyes of Panem and now I'm being thrown straight back in."
"You should feel grateful that Snow has left you alone for those six months. I'm afraid the publicity is something you'll have to get used to." Alaric informs her with a grim expression. "They will be expecting you to step up alongside me as a mentor." Dahlia groans loudly before flopping face-first onto the bed. She screams into the duvet with her legs kicking out like a toddler. Chuckling at her childish behaviour, Alaric scoops her body up and flings her carefully over his shoulder. "Come on, flower. I'm sure Juno's had your entire wardrobe planned out for months."
Dahlia allows herself to hang limply over his frame and grumbles, "I bet it's all black."
•——————•°•✿•°•——————•
"Told ya." Dahlia whispers to Alaric as Juno enthusiastically lays out the numerous monochrome outfits she has prepared. Alaric grunts in annoyance at Dahlia's smug grin, sending her a playful glare in retaliation.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Let's get this show on the road!" Magenta announces energetically as he flamboyantly swishes into Alaric's house. "Where's my terrifyingly murderous Victor?" Juno steps aside to reveal Dahlia glowering at the vibrant escort, making Magenta gasp and step back. "That gaze is just as vicious as the one you had when you bludgeoned our Wyatt to death."
Dahlia's expression drops momentarily at the reminder of her brutal finale while Alaric scowls at the blabbermouth. "Yes, thank you for that, Magenta." Alaric states sternly, his eyes narrowed harshly at the escort.
"Oh, it was just thrilling." Magenta continues, not registering Alaric's signal to stop.
"Thank you, Magenta." Alaric hisses out again through gritted teeth, mentally pleading for the man to take a hint. Dahlia zones out as she remembers the metallic taste of blood settling on her tongue, the red colour covering her hands like a second skin and Wyatt's cries of anguish slowly being drowned into silence. The chatter of voices becomes muffled in her ears, eyes unfocused and blurry. She completely disassociates with reality, haunted by her own memories. She's only brought back when Alaric's calloused hands settle gently on her shoulders. "Flower. Let's get you ready."
Barely taking notice of her surroundings, Dahlia nods numbly and allows herself to be guided away by Juno. She stands in a daze while her stylist fusses over her outfit and makeup, murmuring away to herself. By the time she's fully snapped back into the real world, Dahlia manages to catch the tail-end of Juno's mutters, "...whatever Snow wants, I suppose."
"What?" Dahlia nearly yells in shock and panic. She hadn't received any communications from Snow so she had assumed, rather hopefully, that he'd just forgotten about her. "What did you say about Snow?"
Juno blinks a few times at the girl's sudden interest, before her lips spread into a beautiful smile. "My dear, President Snow is eagerly awaiting your presence in the Capitol." Juno doesn't understand Dahlia's horror at this statement. For all citizens of the Capitol, recognition from the president would be the highest honour. "He's given me strict instructions about your clothing for this tour. Admittedly, I did have some concerns about how much skin you'll be showing--"
"Snow's controlling my outfits?" Dahlia asks, dread flooding her body like an invasive parasite.
"He just has a certain image in mind for you." Juno shrugs her concern off as if it's nothing, her giddy grin unsettling the disturbed Victor. "And I am totally onboard. The Black Dahlia should be a seductive yet dangerous temptress. You've certainly got the personality for it. Snow just thinks your outfits should reflect that. Afterall, sex appeal is a powerful tool. Just look at Finnick Odair."
Dahlia doesn't fight back as Juno eases the black fabric onto her body. She thought Juno was a friend, someone she could find compassion in. But she forgot that Juno was still a citizen of the Capitol. She's been brainwashed by Snow and his regime. Of course she wouldn't see what was wrong with this.
As Dahlia is ushered to the front door, Lavender's head peeks out of the entrance to the living room. The younger girl's eyes widen as they trail along the outfit Dahlia has been forced into. The ensemble is distinctly black in colour with a long-sleeved top tied together at the chest and tight pants hugging her legs. Juno decided that it showed just enough cleavage to tease the Capitol while still providing Dahlia a vague amount of protection from the cold weather. But to Lavender, she seemed so unlike the sister she once knew.
Then, the girl who looks like her sister but acts like a stranger, smiles at her. A simple gesture, but an important one. It's authentic and unfiltered, not artificial like her smirks for the camera. It stretches the corner of her mouth and creates little dimples in her cheeks, similar to the ones Lavender gets when she's genuinely happy. It's her sister. The one she wasn't sure had returned from the Games. There she was. She may have been dressed differently with immaculate makeup and flawless hair. But it was her.
"Good luck, Dahls." The young girl whispers, using the nickname that Dahlia hadn't heard in six months. She could've cried in delight right then and there, the smile growing impossibly larger on her face. Maybe there was a chance she could get her family back?
Before she could run up to greet her sister for what feels like the first time in eternity, Juno and Magenta come along to intervene. "Coldhearted killers don't smile." Magenta reprimands the girl sternly, tapping her cheeks with the tips of his fingers. "We want fierce. We want confident. We want The Black Dahlia."
"Hear, hear." Juno chimes in, gripping the Victor's hand with a proud smile. "I just know you're going to knock them dead."
"Hopefully not literally." Magenta comments, making the Capitol stylists dissolve into giggles. Dahlia sighs uncomfortably, fidgeting with the fur-trimmed edges of her thin sleeves. "I'm only teasing, dear. Everyone knows what you're capable of. Who knows when your next attack of rage will kick in?"
"Magenta, do you honestly believe I'm a dangerous killer?" Dahlia questions the escort, folding her arms behind her back innocently.
"Why, of course." Magenta replies, leering down at the girl. "I watched the Games just like everyone else."
Dahlia tilts her head with an irked expression before snarling, "Then why do you continue to test my fucking patience?" Just like that, all humour was zapped from the room. Magenta chuckles awkwardly as silence settles among the Capitol residents. One look at Dahlia's unamused face makes the man inch away from her ever so slightly. She reminds everyone in the room just who they're talking to. The Black Dahlia name is good for something. It causes fear, which commands respect. If they want to paint her as a coldhearted bitch then that's exactly what she'll be.
Alaric, failing to cover up his proud smirk, claps his hands together to alert the tense group, "Alright, I believe it's time." Everyone leaps back into action, rushing around doing last-minute touches as Caesar's voice echoes through the Victors' Village. Alaric shoos the stunned Magenta away from the door, taking his place instead. "That's my girl." He praises her quietly with a subtle wink as a countdown begins. 3... 2... 1. The door is flung open and Dahlia is thrust back into the spotlight.
"There she is! The Black Dahlia!" Caesar's voice announces loudly with a chuckle as the girl strides down the steps of her house. The icy air nips at her exposed skin, creating small goosebumps down her arms and sending shivers through her body. Dahlia just has to push that aside and plaster a convincing grin on her face. "Don't you look ravishing, my dear?"
The theatrical host wolf-whistles as the camera pans down her body and back up. Swallowing down her disgust, Dahlia replies, "My stylist knows what she's doing."
"She sure does." Caesar agrees, humming to himself in appreciation. "So... how's it going?"
"It's going great, Caesar." Dahlia responds, the lies becoming second nature to her. "I've never been happier."
Cheers from Caesar's audience reaches her ears as the man continues on, "Has your family been enjoying all the perks of a Victor's lifestyle?"
Dahlia's eyes dart quickly to the house belonging to her. The house she barely steps foot in anymore. The house that her family now enjoys thanks to the sacrifices she made. Becoming a Victor has destroyed the relationship she had with them and she wishes more than anything for things to return to the way it was. She wants her home back. With the bed she shared with her sisters and the table they would gather around every morning. She may have gained an extravagant new house, but she lost her home.
"Of course." Dahlia bluffs, keeping up the facade of a perfect Victor with a perfect life. "We now have more food than we know what to do with and all the luxuries we could ever dream of." Swallowing harshly to get rid of the lump forming in her throat, she adds, "It's brought us so much closer together."
"Wonderful!" Caesar exclaims enthusiastically, buying into every lie Dahlia feeds his way. "And have you had the chance to relax these past few months?"
"You know me, Caesar. I never let my guard down." Dahlia retorts teasingly in order to maintain the killer character she's created.
Caesar laughs along with her before proclaiming, "Always a pleasure to speak with you. We'll be following your progress as you embark on your Victory Tour!" The cameras start to pull away from Dahlia as the interview wraps up. "Thank you so much! The Black Dahlia everyone!"
Dahlia waves gracefully with a dazzling smile until the cameras power down and the blinding lights start to dim. Her act drops immediately. The grin is wiped from her face and her hands fall back to her side. Magenta, who was watching from the steps, claps encouragingly for the girl as she storms past.
"That was perfect." He commends, trailing behind Dahlia as the Capitol stylists jump in with their own compliments.
Dahlia rolls her eyes at the insincerity and mumbles, "I'm so done with this shit."