The Fiction Games

Chapter Twenty - Mockingjay

Peeta felt the Mockingjay pin growing weight in his pocket, as though begging to be pinned against his chest. He took it from Katniss's jacket the minute the cannon marked her last breath, and slipped it out of sight while they watched her being lifted by a crane. She may have been whisked away, obliterated from the arena, from the other tribute's minds, but the pin was savaged. Hope was still alive.

It lied in the hands of the moody, oily, old man who declared himself a god. As he stepped forward, allowing his polar bear fur to sweep across the floor, bitter air crept in his heart, much colder than the freezing world around him. If the pin wasn't reminding him of the rebellion, he would've capitulated under his power.

Fixed in her throne, the woman said to Hades, chuckling, "You must be joking, my Lord."

Hades rolled his beady eyes, turning to the White Witch, "Do I look like the kind of man who makes jokes?"

Her eyes smoldering with anger, she gritted her teeth and clutched onto her staff. Although paler than the one in his memory, Peeta recalled seeing the same woman before the Games. She and her partner met on the rooftop in the Training Center, where the Careers conspired together against the other tributes. It was her partner who spoke out against Banner's words: join us or die.

"I know you," said Peeta, staring at the Witch, "Your name is Leia."

Peter Pevensie glared at him, either because he spoke out of term or he shouldn't say anything to her in the first place. A smile slunk across her lips, yet her eyes pierced like thousands of needles. She rose in a slow, dramatic manner, and bore her eyes into him. "Leia is no more. I am Jadis, the White Witch, true ruler of Narnia."

Peter wrenched his sword loose. The White Witch took her staff in both hands. "Aslan is the true ruler of the land, you evil queen!"

"Control your friends, son of Poseidon," growled Hades, "Or I might revoke my offer."

Percy Jackson shot a fuming look. Enough, he mouthed. Bringing his attention back to the Underworld ruler, Percy charmed him as much as batting his eyes, "Please, Hades, we need your help."

Hades paused, evaluating the tributes reluctant to sheath their weapons. "What's the matter, do you not trust me?" 

Harry bit his lip in order to stop blurting out what he wanted to say. No offense, sir, but you don't look like someone who does favors for anyone, let alone does favors for those who are still alive. Hades glanced at him as though he had read his mind. "I get that a lot, as you probably can tell."

He scruffed his beard, trying to collect words that spiraled in the atmosphere. The hellhounds retreated to the thrones and snuggled close to the White Witch's feet. "Where do I begin?" Hades strained his thoughts. "Oh yes, it was months prior to the reaping in Camp Half Blood. Narnians barged at my door, deep within the Underworld, and asked of my assistance, my part in this tournament they called Game of the Universes.

"The President then invited me for tea. Not the United States, Perseus, but of this world, Narnia. Originally from Panem, his name is President Snow. He had this complicated idea of putting the different dimension's best competitors, whether it is a demigod, a wizard, or the avatar, gathering them in this arena, and having them battle to the death."

"And you agreed?" Percy said. "Why?"

"Don't interrupt me," said Hades impatiently. "The Narnians talked of Camp Half-blood, reaping two demigods, and having them bear arms against people of diverse realms. Mortals! Could you believe that? Not one drop of immortal blood! They learned about gateways into other dimesnions. Perseus, the gods though the Mist deceived all mortals, but it did not deceive others alien to our universe, including these Narnians. I thought of annihilating them on the spot, but what good would it do, then? Narnia, the land of these imbecils, will still host the Games, no matter if demigods participate. I'm the only god who cares about the rest of the tributes!"