Living Lies ✜ Hunger Games x Reader

Speech

(A/N: An update! HURRAH!

Can I just say, I feel super guilty over not updating in so long. I mean, it got about almost 10k more reads since I last updated. You guys deserve better.

I can't frickin' wait for summer. School is stressing me out, I barely have time to leisure read, focus on songs, and write anymore and the weather is so depressing. Last week we were without power for a while (curse winter storms). But tonight I was with some friends so I'm actually feeling kinda motivated (even if it takes hours, with the time setback, yikes) and Catching Fire is on, so I'm watching it. And I figured, what better time to try and pop out a Living Lies update? Whoot whoot.

*****

Everything about her was a lie, that much you were starting to remember. And you were also starting to remember how deeply you had buried your mistrust for President Coin.

Considering the fact that you were elevated above most of the populace of District 13, you couldn't just turn and storm away, no matter how greatly you wanted to. You felt blindsided, not only about being shoved into the spotlight by Haymitch, who you thought you could trust, but that President Coin thought it appropriate to send Peeta anyways, and haul you onto a stage in front of hundreds of people, completely unprepared. And it makes you just the slightest bit angrier.

Instead of running away—which would have proven hard, considering the President's hand is clamped around your arm—you plaster your face with the best smile that you can muster, and hope it doesn't turn out looking like some type of snarl. You hate fake smiling; it makes your cheeks taut and strained with effort and feels just plain wrong. You remember Cinna's words of advice all that time ago, before you first did your interview for the Games; to think of something that made you happy, and smile about it. But standing here now, alone and surrounded by people who you deem untrustworthy, the center of a war, you can't seem to find much that would make you smile on cue.

President Coin finally releases her death grip on your arm after what seems like a thousand years, and steps forwards to, you guess, give some type of speech. You had heard of these types of things from Haymitch—rallies, public announcements. You were never allowed to attend one, nor did you particularly care to. But my, how the tables had turned so quickly. Maybe you had made too many waves.

"District 13 has fought the ranks of the Capitol before, and were pushed down and silenced at the beginning of the Dark Age," President Coin's cuts through the tension, her gaze raking across the assembled crowd. "But like our victors, because of our Phoenix, we have risen again, and with the support of the Mockingjay and the Star Squad we have made our presence evident to the Capitol. They are symbol of the Rebellion, and one of hope to the Districts. And with their help, victory will be ours yet!"

As soon as the final words depart from her lips, a thunderous cheer rises from the crowd of people. You blink, in a daze from being thrown into the flurry of activity, and half-heartedly wonder how many people are really blindly following their untrustworthy leader.

Once the applause has died down somewhat, President Coin stretches a hand out towards you, raising the other out and sweeping it above the eyes of the multitude. "Now, welcome our Phoenix. May her words be true of her heart."

Taken aback, you briefly consider retreating, but decide against it. Swallowing your apprehension, you step forwards and eye the microphone suspiciously. You steal a glance towards the president, who merely nods and you, and you try to avoid the flutter of your nerves, and the hushed murmurs rippling across the audience.

You breathed in, the memories hitting like a pile of bricks. You remember your glittering red dress, the one whose edges would whip with flames if you spun around, and the man with the equally sparkly blue hair. And more importantly, the man who gave you the best interview advice you could hope for.