The 'Flower of Panem' or 'The Angel of Mercy', Seraphine Reza is the jewel and pride of Panem. One of their most treasured victors in the history of the Hunger Games and a favorite of President Snow.
While she smiles, comforts and plays her part ev...
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Seneca Crane didn't take Sera's warning.
Two victors from one district – that was the initial promise made to the remaining tributes while his promise to President Snow was that there would be only one victor.
From the start, Sera knew his idea was doomed for failure so she did what any 'good' person would've done, she warned him. She warned him that it wouldn't end well for him, not the tributes, no, the tributes would be fine. There would be an additional victor after all and even if that was against Plutarch's plans, she didn't care enough to rectify it.
Somehow, she didn't really feel bitter about it happening out of control. To her, it was measured chaos, something uncontrollable yet something that benefited her.
Yet there was that unmistakable sinking feeling in her chest that didn't seem to leave and had almost made a home in her body. It was guilt. She shouldn't feel guilt towards anyone let alone Katniss. They only traded a few words and that was it but those few words were etched into her mind, running over and over again nonstop.
Guilt wasn't the only thing she felt.
A part of her was afraid of Katniss Everdeen. Not the skin-crawling, blood freezing and stomach churning type of fear like what she felt around Scarus and sometimes President Snow but rather a numbing and almost bitter fear that married well with the lonely green-eyed monster that almost never showed its face.
She knew Katniss would be a threat but never imagined feeling threatened by her while the Capitolites fawned and sang her praises.
Funny how a few years ago, she was the one in Katniss' place, being praised for trying to be kind while trying to survive by poisoning her allies. Now...someone else had come with similar skills to her but so much more better and stronger. Maybe, she did feel a little bitter over Katniss and that bitterness was mixed in with guilt she'd never shake off.
Sera needed to keep her distance from her, hide away her thorns and her occupation as one of Snow's hands away from her if Katniss did make it out.
The only comforting thought she had was that she knew Snow would never replace her with Katniss. He was threatened by her, not just her influence as Crane was led to believe. Snow knew she was a threat the minute he'd laid eyes on her unlike Sera who'd given Katniss the benefit of doubt.
But that far distant look in Snow's eyes, a mixture of fear, anger and nostalgia clouding his vision for a brief second puzzled her. It was like he wasn't looking at Katniss at all. Instead he was looking at a ghost of something that shouldn't have existed. It was the same when he looked at the honest lovelorn Peeta Mellark. He wasn't looking at the two tributes at all. He was searching for ghosts that didn't exist anymore.
Her curiosity was sparked. She quietly observed the pale faced old man whose years had quickly caught up to him in weeks after Katniss Everdeen had volunteered. Even his thick tailored white suits and roses couldn't hide the wrinkles that had burrowed deep into his pale skin or the scent of blood that followed his every step. He was scared even if he didn't show it. His milky eyes gave away yet if she'd blinked she'd have missed it.
