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ladyathenawisdom · 5 months

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Trap | Prologue

Warnings: Fluff, Mature Themes, Violence, Corruption, Manipulation, Mentions of Smut, Mentions of Killing.

If anyone asked the Capitol what soulmates looked like, either platonic or romantic, two names would appear in their minds.

Coriolanus Snow and Lalina Trap.

Two of the best students at the Academy in the Capital.

And the President Of Panem and the First Lady of Panem.

Soulmates; It was a word that couldn't even possibly explain the friendship between Lalina Trap and Coriolanus Snow. The two seemed more than that.

They had been the best of friends ever since they had met. Never once leaving the other, no one could see one of them without the other. The two seemed to be in sync, almost as if they were the same person sharing one mind.

But then again, they didn't share the same personalities for no reason at all. The two were good, really good, clever and tactical. Their minds fresh and sharp, cunning and devious all the same. Afterall, the two seemed to click for a reason after all.

Power and Love. They craved it, they wanted it, but more then that; They wanted each other.

But rejection and the ruining of their friendship kept them apart, the fear of losing the other kept them apart. Yet, the two also seemed to want each other because of that. Because the other craved power, because they were devious and psychotic. They were the same person in two different bodies.

But while Coriolanus looked to be devious, Lalina looked innocent. She was a innocent young woman, never letting anyone see her true face. Except her best friend, Corio, she had nicknamed, who knew her truly.

The saying was: Snow Lands On Top

But there was another saying.

Never ever fall in Lalina Trap's trap. She was a trap for a reason, her traps never failed.

Never Fall Into Her Trap.

The two couldn't stand to see other people around the other, they couldn't stand the other getting hurt, emotionally or even physically. They were meant to be, they were meant to be together, they were meant to rule. The perfect power couple.

Two Monsters In Love.

Laughs and cheers were heard all around as the pary commenced, right after the 74th Hunger Games. The two victors had been crowned, surprisingly and not surprisingly of District 12. Then again, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, were the famous love couple. Their gossip and love story had become quite popular and had spread all around the Capitol and the districts.

Katniss walked side by side with her man, a fake smile on her face as she held Peeta's hand as they followed after Haymitch and Effie who was talking about something related to the party.

The female victor looks over in front of her when she hears boisterous laughter, she furrows her eyebrows in confusion. It wasn't surprising to see such loud things happening at a party, buy she could hear the compliments and sweet talks of the ladies and men all around.

As if they were complimenting someone.

Haymich also pauses, something flashes in his eyes as the people move away to reveal a bodyguard. The man turns before he walks to the side, revealing a woman.

Katniss blinked in shock, the woman was absolutely beautiful. She looked fairly old, but that didn't seem to dull her beauty, in fact, it seemed as if it enhanced it. And unlike the fashion of the capital, she was dressed quite simply yet elegantly.

Her platinum blonde hair, almost white, was in a half updo and half down. Her brown eyes were like two doe eyes staring right at her, yet sharp like daggers. Her lips were heart-shaped and painted pink. Her makeup was tame compared to the rest of the Capitol, but she looked beautiful in the simplicity.

She was wearing a long brown gown, smooth and light. She wore light jewelry compared to others, light golden earrings, bracelets around her wrists and a few rings on her fingers. But despite that, the energy that radiated off her was powerful and strong.

Katniss narrows her eyes, spotting the snowflake pendent around her neck, seeing the word 'trap' on it.

Haymitch chuckles, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

The woman's lips immediately break out into a wide smile, looking eager and surprised. "Haymitch!" She exclaims with a chuckle, holding a drink that had a pink liquid in it. "How are you?" She smiles kindly, her doe eyes twinkling.

Haymich smiles, looking tipsy yet knowing where he was currently. "Ahh, just showing the victors where the real party was." He says, looking over at his tributes. "Katniss, Peeta. I want you to meet our lady of Panem. The First Lady Of Panem and President Snow's Wife. Lalina Trap-Snow." He smiles politely.

Lalina's eyes snap towards Peeta and Katniss, eyeing them carefully. "Ahh, yes. The famous couple I've been hearing about, finally getting to meet them." She smiles.

Katniss didn't seem to think the smile was genuine.

Lalina's eyes linger on the pin on Katniss's dress. "What a lovely pin," she remarks, taking a sip of her drink.

Katniss merely nods, looking hesitant.

"You're very beautiful." Peeta says, staring at her in what looked like awe almost.

Katniss side eyes him.

Haymitch coughs.

A laugh bubbles out of Lalina's lips. "Wow, that must be the most genuine thing I have heard from someone other than my husband." She chuckles, clearing her throat as she maintained her posture.

Katniss continued to stare, almost as if analyzing her. She didn't know whether to like the woman or not, she was kind enough. But even kind faces had dark sides that they showed no one. But Lalina Trap-Snow, she seemed to be a mystery.

"Well, you do look quite spectacular this evening." Haymitch says with a nod. "And I don't lie when I'm drunk."

Lalina smirks. "You're always drunk, Haymitch."

"Guilty,"

Peeta chuckles.

Effie smiles, looking surprisingly uncomfortable in the presence of the First Lady of Panem.

"Well, I should not keep you waiting." Haymitch nods, gesturing to the party. "I'm sure you have priorities."

"Oh, don't worry yourself." Lalina says. "I have to go meet Corio anyway. It was an honor meeting the famous love couple." She glances in the direction of Katniss and Peeta. She smiles at them before turning around and walking away, with the man and a few other security guards following behind her at a safe distance.

Effie sighs, breathing out in relief. "Oh, that woman gives me the creeps!" She says quickly and quietly, looking around incase anyone heard.

Katniss and Peeta watch in fascination as the First Lady walks away.

"Don't be fooled by the act," Haymitch speaks up, looking around the gala. "Lalina Trap is a mystery herself. She's said to be more devious then Snow, and that's saying something." His eyes light up when a waiter walks by, he grabs the glass of whiskey and downs it.

Katniss looks back at her. "More then Snow?"

"She seems so...kind." Peeta frowns, looking back at his mentor.

Haymitch chuckles. "Oh, don't fall in her trap. There's a reason she's a Trap, she's clever and knows how to play her part well. She's most likely the only weakness that Snow has, but also his strength. They're both devious and clever." He sighs, shaking his head. "Don't underestimate Lalina Trap. And most importantly, don't fall into her trap, her traps never fail."

Katniss' eyes trail back towards the seemingly kind woman, spotting her walking up to President Snow.

The Victor blinks in surprise when she sees the glimpse of genuine longing in Snow's eyes as he turns to her, his hand grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles gently.

Lalina giggles, her laughter bubbling around as her cheeks turn a pretty pink color.

Katniss watches keenly, looking curious.

Lalina Snow.

Lalina Trap-Snow.

Lalina Trap.

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hayffiebird · 30 days

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Taste of Strawberries, chap. 42

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming.

Author's note: As always, thank you for your lovely support! It's almost midnight here, I've been editing for six hours (oh God) and finally had to call it a day even if it ain't perfect. I hope you enjoy the result! Please consider leaving a comment and tell me your thoughts! What do you think will happen next? :)

Slight TRIGGER WARNING for minor mentions like in previous chapters.

Chapter 42

A big big big day

His gift wasn’t among the others. Haymitch turned the presents over. Those big enough to qualify. Squeezed one here, shook one there, holding on to hope that Effie or June or Annabel had signed the delivery while he was passed out.

No such luck. Course not.

Should’ve called the shop sooner.

He ran a tired hand through his hair and poured himself a shaky cup of coffee.

For someone who considered gifts overrated – unless they consisted of food or clothes maybe – he was pretty bloody bummed out about the whole thing. Silly, yeah but … he really wanted the twins to have it and have it on the right day.

Maybe tomorrow. Or the day after. The post office in Eleven was famously slow, according to Annabel.

He was halfway through his cup of joe when the front door opened.

Annabel, smiling and carrying the topnotch chocolate cake. And in her wake, Effie. With one birthday child on each hip.

God, was she pretty! Prettier than usual, if that was even possible. With the strawberry dress gone – thanks to a certain retired mentor – she wore a white and pink plaid dress. A wide skirt just brushing her kneecaps, spaghetti straps and a large flat bow at the side of her waist.

Her hair was gathered in a ponytail for a change. Pink ballet flats. No “yank friendly” jewelry around her neck. No lipstick or lipgloss either. She gave that up after the twins were born since she kissed it all off on them anyway. Around her ankle: a simple silver bracelet. Simple but beautiful.

Yeah, she was gonna kill him for sure.

Amy wore pink too. Pink with ruffles. No matching bow or ribbons though. Even if she’d had any hair to speak of, the little girl would not stand for it.

Her mother had gone and dusted off one of her own princess dresses, by the looks of it, in honor of today. A toned down, less outlandish one but still – definitely more Capitol than district. He counted four different shades of pink. Posy would have loved it.

Ian on the other hand looked just about ready for District 4, dressed up in a little sailor’s outfit. White and dark blue with boats printed on the chest.

Silly ol’ Effs.

She wasn’t usually that all consumed by the whole “pink for girls, blue for boys” ideal. At least not anymore. But even she couldn’t help herself sometimes.

He had to hand it to her though – if this was Capitol it was Capitol low key. He’d seen toddlers back in the old city who looked more like fashion accessories than actual human beings. And sure, Effie wasn’t above wrestling Haymitch into gaudy outfits but she always went easy on the twins. Just like she went easy on Alexander, when she was but a girl herself.

Quite telling, if you thought about it. What kind of person she was at the core.

And contrary to popular belief, Effie preferred the district look for her kids. How was that for ironic? And the clothes he wore as a baby and toddler? Shit, she treasured them like they were truffles – the rarest, most (would be) expensive ingredient Sae used in her cooking, once in a blue moon.

Each night before bed, Effie laid out the children’s clothes for tomorrow and make no mistake! Unless they were currently peed in, pooped at or covered in baby spit-up, she always chose something of his.

“What is it with you and these rags?” he once asked her back in Twelve, while he helped Amy into a patched up romper the color of porridge. “Seriously. Capitol Effie would have shuddered. Called them poor man’s gear. Washcloth outfits.”

“I would not!” Effie protested from the other side of the bed, working the mismatched buttons of Ian’s playsuit. “District Vintage, maybe. And these aren’t rags! Don’t call them that! You know how special they are to me.”

“Why?”

She lifted Ian up. Held him close. With her cheek against the top of his head, she glanced over at Haymitch like he was the biggest idiot in all of Panem.

“Because you are!” she said. “Special. Something you really should know by now. I had your love children, for crying out loud. You’d think that if anything would be a tip off. And every time I see Amy or Ian wearing something you wore, it’s like I get a little echo of you. The child you once were. And since I don’t have any baby pictures of you, this is the second best thing. Well”, she added after a moment’s pause. A smile curved her lips. “Except for the twins themselves. Because of course they’d come out looking exactly like you. That’s just my usual luck.”

“Luck or curse”, Haymitch replied. Amy yawned as he lifted her from the bed. “There we go, baby.” He rested her against the side of his chest, her head on his shoulder. “They have your hair”, he said, pointing out the obvious.

“Mm. Only proof we’ve got that you didn’t actually make them all on your own.”

She never made the connection. Between the clothes and his kid brother. So obvious and yet, the lights never came on.

It was alright though. Really. Sure, he always felt a little pinch every time he saw the kids in Amadeus’s clothes. But not as much anymore. Not as the months passed.

Yeah. By some miracle, that particular gash got to scab over. Become a scar. Tender to the touch yes, but not bleeding, festering.

As time wore on he started to associate the clothes not only with his dead brother and dead mother but with Amy and Ian as well. That was one big reason for it. Plus Amadeus would’ve loved it if he knew that his niece and nephew spent their days dressed in his old stuff.

And Sae – that sharp-eyed ol’ busybody – she much have known this. Predicted his change of heart, or else she never would have given the clothes to Effie in the first place.

When the twins were still newborns he thought Effie might break out Alexander’s old clothes for them. The precious few garments she still had of her stars and butterflies and lady bugs baby after that prick Kane burned the rest or whatever.

But she never did. Too painful. And, obviously, he steered clear off the subject since she wasn’t ready to deal with any of that. Perhaps she never would be.

The reality of that heart-breaking situation only made it easier for him to let her have a field day with “his” old rags. Sorry, his special rags.

You couldn’t be flint-hearted with Effie anyway. Her over the moon excitement. You got to be pretty fucking cruel to take that away. Especially after she blessed you with two children.

Oh God. She’s gonna hold that over my head forever!

Little echoes. Special because you are special. Yeah, he could see what she meant by that. If he reversed their positions in his head.

After she bought the house from June and Annabel and the last of their moving vans had left for District 11 – they arranged for her things to be brought back in. Effie had donated a lot of the furniture to vintage and charity shops when she lost her home but some were kept in storage. As were most of her personal belongings. Like, for instance, the piles upon piles of little kiddie clothes.

Not Alexander’s. Effie’s own.

Now, Haymitch didn’t consider himself a sentimental guy. But when he first got a load of those silly little outfits he was almost overcome with tenderness and affection. As if a kitten – Scotch maybe – just rolled over in his chest, flexing his tiny claws.

They were just so small and so ridiculous.

Princess-pink, primrose yellow, spring green and pale shades of purple like a lilac branch. Effie’s ma and pa had stockpiled the stuff like they had ten kids instead of one. Either they planned on producing a shitload of offspring or they lived by the notion that even a newborn’s outfit was to be worn only once.

“Oh, haha! Look at these!” Effie had chuckled over by the couch, holding out a pair of the tiniest high heeled baby shoes you ever saw. White with black dots and red on the inside. “I forgot I even had them. Say what you will about me, Haymitch. I had style. Right from the very beginning.”

“Yeah, totally”, he said, cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by boxes. “But those Haute Couture diapers were a waste on you. You just soiled them 24-7.”

Effie chuckled and placed the little shoes back in the box. Reached for a soft pink hooded romper instead. Velvet, by the look of it. Patterned with raspberry colored hearts.

“My parents always knew they wanted to have children”, she said. “Especially my mother. She had this romantic scenario in her head that she would be blessed with a baby on her wedding night. Or maybe even more than one. Twins run in my family, did I ever tell you?”

“Noo. Really?”

She brushed the soft fabric against her cheek. “Mama was so disappointed when it didn’t happen at the drop of a hat. They ended up trying for years to get pregnant. You know, the old-fashioned way.”

“What other ways are there?”

Effie smiled.

“Well, I for one am an IVF baby.”

“A what?”

“IVF. In vitro fertilization. Hospital procedure. They removed one of my mother’s eggs and mixed it together with my father’s sperm. So, unlike you or Katniss or Peeta I was first on a lil’ petri dish.”

Haymitch grinned.

“Created in a lab. I should have known.”

“Just the embryo, silly! Which was then implanted into my mother’s womb. I was carried and born like any other baby. Took a few tries though. Like … half a dozen eggs or so. My father’s juices weren’t too great. It drove my mother halfway up the wall. The hormone injections she had to take.”

“Yeah, well.” Haymitch gave a light shrug. “It was worth the wait.”

Effie looked up from the romper, an amused glint in her eyes.

“Is that your way of saying you feel fortunate to have me in your life?”

“Is there any other way to put it? The way I see it, I got a pretty decent deal out of it. Three for the price of one.”

Effie chuckled and tossed a pair of baby socks his way.

“You darling you.” She folded the romper neatly and placed it in the “let’s keep” pile on the couch. “So, what do we do with all this? I mean, some we can use but the rest? Do we give it away or …?”

“Nah, too cruel. I vote that we keep ‘em. As a memory. A timestamp. ‘Effs Trinket – The early years’.”

In the end though, even the things they did keep – they hardly ever used. Not only were the clothes hella impractical to get on and off. They were also a pain to wash correctly. Shrunk super easily – especially with Haymitch in charge – and 80 % of it had to be hand washed anyway, if you didn’t want the colors to bleed.

Annabel set the birthday cake on the garden table. The soft clink pulled Haymitch out of his reverie. Amy’s eyes landed on June and the one year old instantly held her arms out with a firm whine. The blonde woman’s face brightened and the little girl soon climbed from her mother’s arms and into her auntie June’s.

The sight pinched Haymitch’s chest, immediately bringing on a self-insult.

Grow up. What’s wrong with people lovin’ them?

Nothing. Nothing at all. But he couldn’t help it. It hurt. Hurt that his daughter’s first impulse was to go to June and not him.

Annabel’s wife may have a hard time dealing with him as of late but she adored his children. They both did.

Ian was still with Effie. His little fist keeping a firm grasp on one of her dress straps.

Haymitch ached to hold him. Hug the crap out of him and seek some comfort in his softness and warmth and sweet baby smell.

But Effie wouldn’t want him to. He knew without her saying it. She didn’t trust him with them yet. Not when he was still so hangover he couldn’t even stomach a slice of birthday cake without puking on the lawn.

He downed the last of his coffee. He was going to need a lot of the stuff to get him through today. All the while, ignoring how much better it would taste with a drop or three of hard liquor.

His eyes kept returning to June, holding his daughter. Annabel said something about “sugar dream cookies” and turned for the house but her wife hardly noticed, absorbed as she was by his little girl. She tickled her tummy and the child giggled and squirmed in her embrace.

It was all he could do not to yank his kid out of her arms and yell something like “Get your own!!”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he turned and poured himself some more coffee.

She’s not taunting me on purpose.

It wasn’t June’s fault that he was a stinking hot mess who couldn’t do a thing right. Not even when his kids had a birthday.

June and Annabel had been some of the first to ever meet the twins. Even before Katniss and Peeta. Annabel at the hospital. June, a few days later.

“Want me to bring you anything?” she asked over the phone and Effie said, quick as a flash:

“Coffee. Please, a bucket of it!”

Black. Just the way she liked it. Along with some homemade cheesecake, courtesy of June.

He remembered the way her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree seeing Amy and Ian, sound asleep against Effie’s bosom. That’s where the twins liked it best, especially since their so called father was still too freaked to hold them.

“Oh, I want two myself”, Annabel had smiled, her brown eyes shiny. “Two just like them.”

“Well, don’t look at me”, Haymitch said, stretched out on the hard leather couch. “This factory’s closed.”

Effie and Annabel exchanged a look and they both chuckled.

“That’s unfortunate”, the latter said.

They were just joking around of course. And lucky him. Because after everything the two ladies had done for his family, he’d be hard-pressed to refuse.

For some reason, he never gave it much thought at the time, but seeing June with Amy just now … It got him wondering.

Why didn’t June and Annabel have any children themselves?

Sure, you could be fond of kids and great with them and still choose to be child-free. Happy to be just “mom’s fun friend” – or “mom’s wacko friend” if you were say Johanna Mason.

But June and Annabel, they seemed like the type who’d want a baby of their own. And they’d been together for like forever.

In the districts, there were of course only two ways you could have a kid. Cum shot or adoption. But, as Effie’d told him, in the Capitol – things worked differently when it came to fertility and conception. And being in a same-sex relationship with no immediate sperm producer in the household didn’t make it that much harder either. Not if you had money.

People sold their semen for cash in the big city. The hospital even made ads about it, urging people to contribute. Hell, guys like Priapus took pride in having fathered half the nation one cup at a time – to hear him tell it at least. And if you had a few eggs to spare and wanted to trade them in for the latest handbag, you needed only book an appointment.

So if June and Annabel wanted to make an omelette, they had options.

Maybe they can’t have kids.

Annabel’s story earlier. Her struggles with food. Maybe starving herself had done something to her menstrual cycle? He was no expert. Far from it. But he remembered a conversation he overheard at the Hob once. Between old Cray and some other peacekeeper.

“At the end of the day”, the full-fledged bastard said, “what you want is a real skintight lass. The flow doesn’t go over barren land, if you know what I mean?”

As for June … He couldn’t say he knew a lot about the woman. She was no open book. Not with him and especially not lately. If anything, she was the quiet, observing type. A bit like himself, maybe.

The only really private piece of information he had about her came from someone else. Plutarch. Who never knew when to shut up.

Haymitch were out grocery shopping for a very pregnant Effie and ran into him on the way back. The man had just returned after a prolonged stay in District 7. Apparently they were shooting the pilot of some wildlife documentary that the former Head Gamemaker pitched for Capitol TV. The first of 12 planned episodes. One season per district, starting in the vast woodlands with its mountain lions and coyotes and river otters. Haymitch remembered because of how much the whole project would have annoyed Johanna.

“Panem et Circenses”, Plutarch said with a land out like Whatcha gonna do? “We have to find new and exciting ways to entertain the audience. Now that the Hunger Games are a thing of the past.”

As for Effie, and her precarious situation – he knew all about it of course. Just like everyone else in town.

Haymitch, standing there in the heat with his full bags of soy milk and brussels sprouts, brown rice and melting ice cream just wanted to get the hell out of dodge but there was no stopping Plutarch Heavensbee once he got going. That man sure loved the sound of his own voice.

“… and ah, yes the Summers. Good people. All of them. I’m friends with her father”, he said. “Great polo player! A real blue-ribbon champion during his time at the University. Shame what happened to his family! Such a tragedy! They wanted a second child, you see. A boy this time. So badly. And when they were finally blessed with another pregnancy, his wife suffered a late-term miscarriage when June was about 16. Little Otho Summer Jr. Oh! An awful, bloody affair. Then some emergency surgery and … that’s that. No more children. Poor man. Was never the same.”

Complications during pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum were not uncommon back in Twelve. Before the war. Especially among the starving families of the Seam. Thank God they had Sae and Tessa Everdeen but even in their expert hands mothers and babies were lost during Snow’s long reign.

“It’s a gamble at best”, Chaff once said, when they got to talking about it. “Not a month goes by in Eleven without us hearing the hammer blows of a coffin being made. A coffin meant for two.”

Haymitch remembered this one family. A young girl who broke off her engagement after her ma went through a really bloody labor, stretching out over three whole days. In the end, Sae managed to save both mother and child but the damage was already done.

Now, he saw no reason worth shit why you’d ever want to get married and have kids in a place like Twelve in a world like Snow’s. Some agreed with him on that note. Others didn’t. In this young woman’s case there was definitely a “before” and “after”.

Sae even had a name for it.

Tokophobia. Morbid fear of childbirth.

Maybe that was the case with June?

“Would you look at that”, Effie whispered, cheek against Ian’s temple. The words pulled Haymitch out of his depressing thoughts for a second time.

His son and baby mama were admiring Annabel’s cake.

“With a teddy for a candle”, Effie smiled and kissed the top of his head. “Just like Little Bear in the bedtime story we read at night. You remember Little Bear, my darling? But oh, we forgot the matches! You can’t blow the candle out and make a wish if not first we light it. Come baby, let’s set you down for a bit while I go look for them. Want to play with your letter blocks?”

She settled their son on the picnic blanket. The one under the apple tree. Kissed his soft, downy head a second time and turned for the house. Squeezed Annabel’s shoulder in passing when the brunette re-appeared with the plate of cookies and a jug of water and cucumber slices.

Haymitch watched as Effie bounded up the front steps and was gone.

She’s stressed out of her mind.

No question about it. She hid it but he could always tell. Recognized that stiff upper lip from the Games, covered behind bright smiles and weird exclamations like “You two are in for a treat! Crystal chandeliers, platinum doorknobs.”

As if the Games weren’t bad enough. With Haymitch Abernathy on your “team”, Effie had her work cut out for her. Because of him, her attention was constantly split. Pretty much since day one and especially in the last few years prior to Katniss and Peeta’s Games.

Her mind was in a constant state of, “Time to get them both on the train and where’s Haymitch? How many drinks has he had?” or “Let’s get these children ready for their interviews and where’s Haymitch? How drunk is he now?”

Yeah, he was little more than added stress on her shoulders.

Same thing now.

But I’m not drunk today. Haven’t had a drink since last night. What’s she thinking I’m gon’ do? Get wasted right in front of my kids?

He thrust the thought from his mind. He had exactly zero right to be annoyed today.

Instead, his gaze went to Ian sitting by himself on the blanket. Haymitch set his cup on an empty spot on the garden table and turned for June. June and Amy.

“Mind if I take a balloon? For the kid. I don’t know how to work that thing.” He nodded toward the container.

June eyed him with those green orbs, then nodded.

“Sure. Help yourself.”

With no knife at his disposal, June’s killer double knots were a challenge. Ian watched his struggles and each time the branches rustled overhead, a giggle rose from under it.

Haymitch allowed himself a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh at your old man.”

He worked the knot loose and extricated the balloon from the tree. Orange. Like Effie’s hair. Once upon a long time ago.

“Here. Got something for ya.”

He crouched before his son, keeping a firm hold on the end of the string. But he was a little too quick about it, wobbled and slumped back on his ass. Tiny black dots swam across his field of vision. Like specks of dust from a fire.

Ian’s round gray eyes followed his every move. Forcing his lips upward, Haymitch struggled to regain his balance. Swallowed a flood of saliva against the summersaults his stomach made.

Please. Not here. Not now.

Feeling the cool grass underneath his palm he breathed slowly through his nose. And he was in luck. For once. The nausea subsided. The ringing as well. His vision cleared, leaving him with goose bumps all over and stinging armpits.

With shaky hands he tied the balloon string around Ian’s wrist.

“There you go, sweetheart.”

The boy shook his arm eagerly. Gave a breathy grin when the balloon bobbed.

Haymitch caressed his hair. His chubby cheek. Reached for the silver baby rattle next, a old gift of Annabel’s, and struggled to his feet with the gracefulness of someone twice his age.

The rattle found a home in Amy’s hand. He gave her strawberry hair a soft caress, just like he did Ian. His eyes went to her auntie.

“I’ll get you a balloon too if you want. Or … maybe a coffee?”

The woman drew a deep sigh.

“Fine”, she said, slightly less up in arms.

Back at the table he poured another cup. Added some cream and sugar. Behind him the front door opened. Effie with the matches no doubt. He set the hot fragrant peace offering in June’s hand. Contemplated if he actually remembered all the verses of “Happy Birthday” when his gaze dropped to Ian again.

He had but ten seconds to see it before Effie did.

The sight closed his throat up, like someone actually kept a choke hold on him. His hand flew to his back pocket, confirming what his eyes were already telling him.

The hipflask.

In his son’s hands.

Ian’s chubby baby fingers grazed against the scratched silver surface while he explored the corked up lid with his mouth. Chewing on it like he did everything.

Haymitch’s feet were already moving but it was too late.

“No!” The shriek escaping Effie’s lips made them all start. She was by Ian’s side in a heartbeat. Pulled him from the ground so fast that Haymitch’s knot unravelled and the balloon floated into the sky. Up and gone.

The boy was bawling, startled by his mother’s sudden cry. Effie clutched him to her chest, holding the hipflask a meter away.

“You brought this to the party?” she spat at Haymitch. “How could you? Take this revolting thing away from the children this instant!”

#hayffie #haymitch x effie #the hunger games renaissance #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #plutarch heavensbee #fanfiction #district 11 #the capitol #district 12 #my fanfiction

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