Chapter 129

Katniss

 "Hello, Katniss. I'm Angell, Cinna's daughter. I'm so glad to finally meet you." 

I stumble backwards slightly, taken aback. I'm too shocked to speak, not that I would anyway. Angell doesn't speak either, but she watches me with her green eyes. I force myself to look away, as her eyes are the same as Cinna's. Now that I think about it, she really does look like him, though I still can't believe that she's real.

Just moments later, my mother opens the door to this dressing room, Willow in hand. "I thought you would want to dress her for tonight," she tells me. I give her a look that I hope shows gratitude and take my daughter from her arms. Angell's face brightens when she sees her, similar to the way almost everyone's has. 

Willow nuzzles her face into my neck and I plant a soft kiss on the top of her head, causing her to erupt with toddler giggles. Angell motions towards a black leather chair in front of a tall mirror on the opposite side of the room. I hesitate at first, but give in and sit as I'm told. Angell looks me over, silently nodding her head as if agreeing on something. "I think. . ." she says, biting the tip of her thumb. "I think I have an idea." 

I'm confused at first as to why I'm not being bombarded by a makeup prep team, like I always have been but Angell begins pulling out kits of makeup and plastering my face with it herself. She smears a various assortment of powders and tan-colored liquid on my face, draws striking lines and dramatic shadows on my cheeks and eyes, and brushes over my lips with a creamy pink lipstick. When she's finished, I allow myself to look into the mirror. While she's made me look far from dreadful, I don't quite look like myself either. 

Angell begins plaiting my hair into a thick, dark crown around the top of my head. She leaves half of my thick hair down in long, shining curls. I begin bouncing Willow on my knee so she doesn't get fussy. "I didn't know Cinna had a daughter," I say, trying my best not to make eye contact. 

"No one did. My father and mother agreed not to tell anyone about me even before I was born," she says, now concentrating deeply on several strands of my hair. 

"Why?"

"To protect me from Snow," she says, turning her back from me to fetch more pins. I don't ask her anything else. I don't have to. Of course Cinna didn't want Snow to find out about his daughter. If he did know of her, she would have ended up the same as her father. I think of Haymitch's family, of Peeta's. They were killed because Haymitch and Peeta did something to defy Snow. The same would have happened to my family, although what happened wasn't too far off. Coin killed the light in mine, though. Not Snow. "I remember my father telling me all of these wonderful stories of you after your first games. I can't even describe the excitement in my house when you won. My mother was crying. When I asked her why, she told me that this world may finally have a chance." 

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"When you won the games with Peeta, you provided hope for everyone who needed it. It wasn't because you were good at archery or people loved the romance between you and Peeta. It wasn't because you were stubborn or they thought you were funny or pretty. It was because you were different. After years of killing and manipulation and violence, you out of everyone, were different. With your sister, the little girl from 11, Peeta. From the very beginning, you did  the opposite of what the Capitol wanted and it sparked this kind of optimism in people," she says, stopping to place my hair with pins. "This is the reason why you're here today. Cinna would have been so proud of his mockingjay." 

My cheeks grow warm. I train my eyes on Willow, who is soundly asleep in my arms. It's amazing how calm she always seems to be. She's almost always sleeping. I remember when I was around 4 or 5 years old, baby Prim was always crying. Neither of my parents could calm her down, my father probably made it worse. He and Prim never had a bond like I had with him. When Prim was about 4 months old, she absolutely would not stop screaming in her wooden baby crib. My father was at work and my mother was speaking with a neighbor on our porch so I secretly snuck into Prim's room, though I was told not to bother her. I began to sing the meadow song, or as much of it as I could remember being a five year old. Prim immediately stopped fussing, looked up at me with her big blue eyes, and smiled. I remember how proud of myself I had felt. From that moment on, I loved Prim with all my heart and I knew she loved me too. 

"Anyway," Angell says, breaking my train of thought. "I thought that your outfit should be fairly simple and feminine, but I wanted to add a classic mockingjay touch to it." 

She goes to the closet and pulls out a stunning gold satin dress. There is one sleeve that wraps around to the open back. The skirt falls to my feet in what looks like sheets of gold. There are faux golden leaves around the middle and on the sleeve. "Cinna made it," Angell tells me. Now this I don't believe. Cinna managed to predict that I would need a mockingjay suit and even picked out my wedding dress, but this? It couldn't have been made by him. "This entire closet is filled with dresses and outfits for you. He made it my job to protect them and to pick them out for you." 

I run my hands over the smooth satin, tears brimming my eyelids. Of course Cinna did this. He thought of everything. I wish now, more than anything, that I could thank him. Cinna has turned me into the mockingjay again. 

"I had this one made for Willow," Angell says, pulling a miniature dress made of tulle in various shades of red and orange. "I know this whole thing must be awful for you, but I hope you like it." 

She's right, this is awful. And I hate having to dress my daughter like this, to expose her to this other part of me that I'm forced to bear. But the dress is beautiful and if Cinna's daughter made it for Willow, I will manage. 

Angell lets me dress Willow in her beautiful gown myself, for which I am thankful. When we are both finished, she opens a small purple leather box. Inside of it, rests a pink ribbon strung with white pearls. "This is for her. It was supposed to go with another dress, but it's far too small now. So I put the beads on a smaller string for her to have instead. I assumed you don't like jewelry much anyway." She slips the bracelet over Willow's wrist and ties it tighter so it doesn't fall off. "Both of you look so beautiful." I'm about to thank her before she pulls me into a tight hug. I'm not quite sure how to react, so I wrap my arms around her back in return. When she takes a step back from me, I know that she's crying. I don't know how to comfort her, so I don't speak. She already knows what my mind is thinking, what the words that I can't form are. Because I loved Cinna too. Obviously not in the same way, but for the time that we had, I truly saw him as a father figure. She knows I understand how she feels. My father died, just like hers. We are both fatherless, scarred beings with a particular hate for the Capitol. 

***

Later that night, Peeta and I are escorted to the stage in which we will be interviewed. Willow is with my mother. One of my conditions for being interviewed tonight is that Willow isn't forced to be on stage with us the entire time. They agreed happily, as a crying baby would completely ruin the broadcast. I ceased to mention that she rarely cries anyway. What a shame. 

I grasp Peeta's arm for support, as I know he loathes this just as much, if not more, as I do. I think back to the many interviews Peeta had when he was being tortured. A shiver runs down my spine as I attempt to rid myself of the thought. "You look beautiful, Katniss," he tells me, planting a kiss on my forehead. All I can manage is a sarcastic grunt in return. I can't seem to manage anything else. "It'll be okay." 

Just as he finishes speaking, the lights in the audience dim and we are in the midst of an aging Caesar Flickerman. The two of us wait behind a heavy red curtain as Caesar begins to introduce us. When he does, I can hardly force my feet to move. Peeta practically has to drag me across the stage. We sit on the maroon velvet couch, just like the one we have back home. I find myself stroking the soft material, desperately wishing that I could be home. My eyes focus on Willow as Peeta talks to Caesar. I know that this will be televised and that it will probably be replayed for Willow when she's older. I have to be brave now. I have to be brave for her. 

"Katniss, how has life been treating you my dear?" Caesar asks. 

"Very good, thank you," I reply, as curtly as possible. 

"Well, you look absolutely beautiful!" 

"Thank you, that's very kind," I say with the most genuine tone I can force myself to make. 

"It is to my understanding that your young baby girl is here with us tonight?" 

"Yes, she is. Her name is Willow." 

"Ah, Willow! What a beautiful name, how did you come up with it?" he asks. I swallow hard, trying to signal Peeta for help. 

"We didn't want to name her after anyone because she's her own person, but we still wanted it to be symbolic. As you know, Katniss has many names in her family related to nature. So, naturally we chose Willow," Peeta explains. This isn't a complete lie, but it's far from true. We chose Willow because Prim picked it for her own future child. 

"Very nice, very nice. Well, if it isn't too much to ask, do you think we could meet this beautiful little angel of yours?" Caesar asks. Peeta nods and goes to my mother for Willow. Caesar makes a dramatic fuss over how utterly cute she is. I can't say that I disagree, but his overreaction bothers me immensely. I hate having to share Willow with everyone. 

"Folks, isn't she just the most darling thing you've ever seen!" Caeser sighs. When Peeta makes Willow giggle the crowd screams and cooes over her. I play along, putting on the biggest smile that I possibly can. Peeta takes my hand and kisses both Willow and I on the cheek. It's almost amusing, listening to the people's reactions to us. 

"What a wonderful family you are!" Caesar says. "But as everyone here knows, these two brave young people began in a very dark way. A way that brings us all here today. We have a very special presentation for you about Katniss and Peeta's past. Let's take a look." 

The entire building seems to go dark. A screen the size of the wall behind us illuminates before us. When the video begins, I think that I stop breathing for a few seconds. There I am, standing tall in my mother's old blue dress. The sixteen year old version of me opens her mouth and what I say sends icy shivers down my spine, I volunteer as tribute. 

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Hihihihihi sorry semi-boring chapter but trust me the next one will be better/have more emotion. Anyways, because this book has to end at some point (*CRYING* *SIRENS* *SCREAMING* *DEATH*), although idk when. . .I've been coming up with ideas for future stories yayyyy. One that is maybe probably definitely (idk?) going to happen is an Everlark and/or THG one-shot book. I just have a lot of random ideas for Everlark that I can't really form into a story so my solution is a one-shot book :). 

Anywayyyyy, I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter and had a verrryyyyy merrryyyy Christmaaaas (if you celebrate it of course). LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!

-booklover2019 <3