Disclaimer : None of this is mine etc.

AN: This is an canon universe AU that deals with a specific "What if". What if President Snow didn't have Haymitch's family killed after his Games? I'm very excited about this story and I hope you will like it too. For now the rating is T but I might increase it later on. However, this is an official warning : the canonical prostitution of victors will play a role in this story. I don't plan on writing anything graphic on that account but it will be mentioned, talked about and dealt with so if you think that it can trigger something, be careful.

The title comes from the poem from William Ernest Henley, it is latin for "unconquered". Check out the poem if you don't know it, it's an awesome and inspiring piece.

Although it deals with some other themes, this is obviously a hayffie story.

Thanks to Akachankami for the beta-reading and Allonsysilvertongue for the pep talks.

I hope you all enjoy this story. Please do drop me a line to tell me what you think of it.

Invictus

Chapter 1 :

Mayor Undersee was a charming man, Effie mused as she trudged alongside him on the slope to the Victors' Village, but he really should see to the state of the roads in his District. Her shoes were covered in dust from the earthy path and she didn't think she would manage to salvage them before the Reaping was due to start.

Her very first Reaping as an escort…

Mayor Undersee seemed a bit taken aback by the bright smile on her face but she couldn't help it. She was a bundle of nerves, excitement and dread – the escort from District Six, Livia, had told her so many anecdotes about disastrous performances from new escorts at Reapings that Effie was almost sure she would ruin it. She had worked so hard to get there, it would be a shame to get fired because she would stammer on a word.

But Effie Trinket never stammered, she told herself, nodding absent-mindedly at whatever the mayor was saying. He was appraising her on a brand new mining machinery and she wasn't following a lot of that conversation.

"Here we are." the man sighed with relief when they finally reached the iron archway to the Victors' Village. Effie glanced around curiously, disappointed with what she saw. She was expecting something a little more… festive. The village looked like a graveyard. She waited for the mayor to lead her to her destination but he shuffled on his feet, obviously ill-at-ease. "Would you mind it terribly if I left you here? My wife's sister was in the Quell with Haymitch, you see, and…"

"Oh, of course." she was quick to offer. She could imagine how awkward such a meeting would have been. Tried as she might, she couldn't remember who his wife's sister might have been. The Quell had twice as many tributes and it had taken place quite a few years ago, apart from her new mentor, she couldn't be expected to remember the name of his adversaries. "It's no trouble at all."

The mayor seemed relieved and pleased by her reaction. He relaxed and smiled at her – she realized, a bit taken aback, that all his smiles until then had been strained.

"I think you will do well in Twelve, Miss Trinket." he told her.

"I do hope so." she grinned. "Now which house would it be?"

He instructed her to follow the path and assured her she would know the house at first glance so she did just that, looking around curiously. All the houses were identical but they were all empty and sad to look at. She couldn't imagine living there at all. Yet she supposed it was better than what she had glimpsed of the rest of the District. She had known beforehand she would be faced with poverty but she hadn't been quite ready for the misery.

The house was, indeed, unmistakable.

It was the only one that looked homey. The garden was tended to, there were potted plants on the windows and a nice vegetable garden on the side of the house. Contrary to the other houses, the windows were clean, the chimney was smoking and she could hear honking coming from behind the house, perhaps poultries of some kind.

It calmed her nerves for some reason. She smoothed her dress, checked her reflection in her hand mirror, made sure her light blue gloves weren't crumpled around the wrists and strutted to the front door with confidence. She knocked three times and waited.

She didn't have to wait for long.

The door opened on a woman with grey hair and grey eyes whose head barely reached Effie's chin – it was the heels but she estimated that without them they would be roughly the same height. She was dressed in a light pink blouse and a practical blue skirt, her hair was tied in a bun and there was a no-nonsense air about her that Effie liked immediately. Her face was marred with lines around the eyes and the mouth that seemed to indicate she smiled often even though she wasn't doing much of that at the moment.

"Mrs Abernathy." Effie surmised with a smile of her own. The assumption was a fair one, the woman was often glimpsed on TV on Reaping day and now and then during the year when a camera crew came to Twelve for whatever reason. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

She offered her hand and, for a second, she was afraid she had committed a mistake. The woman was doing her own visual inspection, her eyes lingering on her cleavage – the dress she was wearing was a gift from a stylist she used to model for and even though it was quite fashionable and classy, it was also showing off most of her assets – before studying her face. Finally, when Effie's smile was starting to feel strained and she was thinking about dropping her hand, the woman reached for it with a soft smile.

"You have better manners than the last escort." the woman offered, stepping aside. "Do come in. Sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

Having better manners than the last escort wasn't exactly a feat. She was painfully well acquainted with Viola Summercket's manners and they were horrid. She truly felt for the District Eleven's team on which she had been appointed.

The fault couldn't have been all Viola's though. Twelve had a reputation regarding escorts. It had become a bit of a joke, really. They barely lasted a year before either quitting, requesting a transfer or displaying their sordid affair with the senior victor all over the newspapers.

"Effie Trinket." she introduced herself, following the woman along a nicely decorated corridor. It was nothing fancy, certainly nothing like what she was used to, but it was clean and obviously well cared-for.

"Sounds like fate." a masculine voice commented.

Mrs Abernathy didn't pause on the kitchen's threshold like Effie did, she made a beeline for the oven to check on something that was obviously burning. Effie barely heard the woman rebuking someone over it, she was too busy staring at the man who had appeared behind her, clearly coming from the living-room she could glimpse over his shoulder, on the other side of the hall.

"And why would that be?" she asked curiously, suddenly glad she had opted for the gloves that morning. Her hands felt clammy under the fabric. He looked better in real life than he did on television.

Broad chest, tanned skin, grey eyes… She licked her lips and forced herself not to stare. They were precisely the same age and she had rooted for him like a mad woman when he had been Reaped. She still had a poster somewhere in her old room at her parents' house.

Hayden Abernathy, victor of the fifty-fifth edition of the Hunger Games, winked at her and she absolutely didn't want to swoon.

"Because my brother has the nasty habit of collecting women like trinkets." he whispered, brushing past her to enter the kitchen. She followed, noticing a bit too late that a domestic over the burned pastries Mrs Abernathy's other son had failed to take out of the oven in time was taking place.

Effie knew Haymitch Abernathy, of course. It was hard not to. Not only was he the only Quarter Quell victor alive, he was also very much known to everyone in the in circles of the Capitol elite. He was what was commonly called a playboy who, as Hayden had so aptly put it, collected affairs like trinkets, according to the press and his own interviews on TV. From what she had gathered from her various friends, acquaintances and the gossip mill, he was a very smart man, with a weakness for liquor, who could be quite charming when he wanted something. He was also very happy to leave the mentoring work to his brother while he ran around the Capitol with his latest conquest.

Livia had warned her not to expect any kind of help coming from him. She had also warned her not to fall for his act. According to her friend, Haymitch wasn't a nice man behind closed doors.

No warnings were required though. She highly doubted she would ever be attracted to the man with a disheveled appearance, swaying lightly on his feet as the wine splashed over the rim of his glass, not only tainting the sleeve of his shirt but leaving sticky puddles on the kitchen's floor. It only made his mother more annoyed but he didn't even seem to notice. He was looking right through her.

"We have company." Hayden reminded them all cheerfully, flopping on a chair. "Can we all behave like a happy family for once?"

Effie was taken aback. From all accounts and public appearances, the Abernathy family was a happy one. After all, at the time of their victory, it was unprecedented that two brothers would win the Games in a five years span, never mind the fact that those two brothers came from Twelve - of course that record had since been obliterated by Gloss and Cashmere. In every interview Mrs Abernathy always said she was delighted and proud, Hayden and Haymitch were thick as thieves and the two victors were Twelve's most treasured assets.

Obviously, it was a bit of an overestimation.

Haymitch finally glanced at Effie. It was all it was : a mere glance. His eyes darted from her shoes to her pale blue wig and he downed his glass, throwing his head back not to miss a drop.

"Honestly, Haymitch." Mrs Abernathy huffed. "Can I offer you something to drink, dear?"

"Dear." Haymitch snorted, reaching for the wine bottle in the middle of the table.

Everything happened so quickly Effie was almost confused but Hayden's hand shot out and grabbed Haymitch's wrist. The two brothers stared at each other for a few seconds, having a silent conversation of some kind. Haymitch retreated with a sneer.

"Wouldn't want to embarrass the District." he muttered with a slight bow in Hayden's direction. "Or you."

The tension was thick and Effie felt the need to clear her throat which was a bad idea because every eyes turned to her. Hastily forcing a smile on her face, she extended her hand to Haymitch, avoiding the puddle of wine. "We haven't been formally introduced. I am Effie Trinket and I am…"

"Yeah, sweetheart, I know a new escort when I see one." he replied. He clasped her hand but not before she glimpsed a tinge of reluctance flashing in his eyes. She wondered what she had done to displease him so soon. Perhaps the rumors were true and he was simply disappointed because she wasn't his type.

She winced when she saw the dark spot on her glove but she was tactful enough not to mention it. She doubted it was salvageable and Mrs Abernathy looked embarrassed enough already without Effie asking if she had anything to remove wine stains.

"You're early." Haymitch pointed out, a bit accusingly.

"Actually, not so much." she replied, fighting to keep the smile on her face.

"Haymitch, you weren't raised by wolves." Mrs Abernathy gritted her teeth. "Show some manners."

"Oh, I could show her some things alright…" he smirked. "Wouldn't you like that, sweetheart?"

"Haymitch!" his mother exclaimed in outrage.

Hayden simply rolled his eyes.

Effie's cheeks burned crimson and she was grateful for the heavy make-up that would have at least, she hoped, hidden some of her blush. She wondered what was the usual reaction to that kind of comment. Giggles? Shy smile? He certainly didn't seem to expect her glaring.

"I will thank you to keep your unprofessional remarks to yourself so we can all work as efficiently and agreeably as possible together." she said, her tone flat. Then she clapped her hands with a cheerful face. "Now, I do think both of you should hurry and change before the Reaping."

The brothers exchanged a quick look. Haymitch's face was openly mocking but Hayden was tactful enough to keep his smile out of his voice. "That's what we're wearing."

"Oh… I see." she winced. Way to put her foot in her mouth, Euphemia, she rebuked herself in her mind. She made a mental note to purchase more appropriate clothing for their time in the Capitol and she would need to bring some with her for the next Reaping – if she made it that far. As for now… She supposed Hayden's clothes were acceptable, certainly not fashionable but the country boy style was good on him and the blue shirt and grey pants were flattering. Now Haymitch… She eyed him critically. "You need to at least change your shirt."

"Why?" he said defensively. "It's clean."

"It was clean before you put wine on it." she argued, pointing to the dark stain on the wrist.

"Nobody will know." He rolled his eyes and folded his arms petulantly.

"I will know. Please go and change." she insisted.

"If you want to undress me so much, sweetheart, all you have to do is ask." he replied, completely ignoring his mother's new strings of reproaches and excuses.

It suited Effie just fine, she ignored them too.

"I know I am an attractive person, Mr Abernathy, but I will thank you to stop hitting on me. I assure you it is quite hopeless." she snapped without blinking. "Not to mention your assumption that anyone of the female sex would want to throw themselves at your feet is troubling."

Hayden's laughter boomed in the kitchen, carefree and unrestrained. "Oh, I love you. Haymitch, stay away from this one, we're keeping her."

Haymitch glanced at his brother, then at Effie and sighed as if she was being insufferable. "You're going to be a pain, aren't you?"

"I have an inkling I could say the same about you." she retorted.

She stood her ground, ready to match him wit for wit until the next day if that was what it would take to get him in line. His smirk was slow and there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. His gaze was intense and she shuffled slightly on her feet, she could feel the tension shifting and…

"Take this one." Mrs Abernathy handed another shirt to his son. It was a light grey and not at all what Effie would have chosen but she figured if he accepted to change clothes it would be a small victory in itself. Of course, she wasn't expecting him to take off his shirt right then in the kitchen but there was something of a challenge in his eyes when he did, so she simply lifted an eyebrow and forced her face to remain unimpressed.

There was a huge scar on the left side of his abdomen and a smaller one on his shoulder. She tried not to stare but it was difficult not to.

"My brother isn't shy." Hayden told her, getting on his feet. He sounded partly amused and partly bitter. "You should get used to it. And we should get going."

A glance at the clock was enough to prove him right and send Effie into a frenzy.

"Oh, dear, we will be late!" she exclaimed.

"What a shame." Haymitch grumbled, avoiding the towel his mother swapped his way with an agility that spoke of experience.

"Behave." Mrs Abernathy growled but it was more fond than aggravated.

Effie had no wish to be rude but she urged them all on the path to the Square, too focused on the upcoming ceremony to do much more than nod and hum at Hayden's attempts at conversation. Mrs Abernathy left them at the edge of the Square and they walked up the stage under the heavy stares of the people gathered there.

Effie smiled hard, beaming at finally being under the spotlights. Hayden helped her up the narrow stairs to the stage and she couldn't help but clench his hand instinctively once she was up there, conscious of all the eyes and the camera riveted on her.

"What if I forget the speech?" she whispered hurriedly, truly nervous now. She wasn't a stranger to stage fright though and she just knew everything would be perfectly alright once she started speaking but it was the long minutes before actually going live that were the worst.

"You won't." Hayden offered reassuringly, squeezing her hand once before letting go. "Break a leg."

"Try not to do that literally." Haymitch taunted. "I've been told I'm ridiculous enough for the whole team."

She ignored him, smiled at Hayden and walked all the way to the front of the stage.

"Welcome to the sixty-fifth Hunger Games!"