The Imagination Latibule: The Hunger Games - Sweet as Sugar

Chapter 3

You tucked your knees beneath your chin, hugging your legs to your chest as you tried to catch your breath. Nine years you had lived with the belief that you'd be alright, and now you were travelling to almost certain death. No, scratch that. You were travelling to certain death. Why? Because Finnick was going to survive. He had to. 

Talking of Finnick, where was he? Surely they hadn't left him in District 4 to fend off the rioters and Peacekeepers at the same time. The district wasn't his biggest fan, seeing as he played to the Capitol crowds to secure his victory. They'd sooner kill him than show mercy. And the Peacekeepers, well, they'd shoot anything that moved. You wiped your eyes on the back of your sleeve and stood, deciding to leave the carriage at the back of the train and look for him. As you did, the door slid open, and...

"Finnick?"

"Oh, y/n," Finnick said breathlessly, and in three large strides he was in front of you, arms wide. His lips lingered on your forehead as he peppered it with kisses, and you locked your arms around his waist, never wanting to let go as you breathed in his familiar smell. "Why did you volunteer?" he mumbled, and you shook your head.

"You would have done the same," you answered, and he nodded reluctantly. Suddenly, the door opened again and Effie wandered in, smiling sadly at the two of you as you turned your head to the side, resting it against his chest.

"Effie?" you asked. "I thought you were the escort for District 12..." You trailed off, and Finnick took a protective step in front of you as two other tributes walked into the carriage, along with a mentor. You recognised them immediately.

"Finnick Odair, y/n y/l/n, I'd like you to meet last years victors, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark," Effie introduced. "Katniss, Peeta, this is Finnick and y/n, winners of the 65th and 66th Hunger Games respectively." 

There was a lot of wearily stared eye contact as no one made a move, nor spoke a word. Effie sighed, nudging Haymitch as he took a swig of some strong smelling alcohol - or maybe he was the one that smelled - and he nodded his head to each of you.

"Well this is lovely," he said sarcastically, sinking into the curved sofa that ran the length of the windows. "I thought having Miss stone cold girl on fire would be a challenge again, now I've got 4 of you."

"You've got us," Finnick repeated slowly. "But what about..." he trailed off and you felt a lump in your throat as you steadied Finnick. He sniffed, trying to hold back tears as his eyes watered.

"Effie," you said. "Where's Mags?" 

Mags had been like a mother to both you and Finnick. She was the closest thing to family either of you had left. The thought that she was gone... You shook your head as Effie motioned for the two of you to take a seat. When you did, she crouched in front, holding each of your hands gently. 

"Oh, my dear, sweet ones, I'm sorry," she said. "A Peacekeeper in the riot, he... Well, needless to say, he's being heavily reprimanded for his carelessness."

Where you let your emotions run freely in front of people, Finnick refused to do the same. He stood stiffly and walked towards the next carriage. "Excuse me," he said quietly, and Katniss and Peeta stood to the side. He left, and you took a shaky deep breath.

"I hate it," you mumbled. "The Capitol, The Games, President Snow." You caught Katniss' eye as she came and sat down next to you. From what you'd heard, she was untrusting as the day was long, and stubborn as a mule, but also kind beyond any other who had entered the game.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said quietly.

 "You're the face of this rebellion," you said. "Tell me you're gonna make these capitalist pigs pay for what they've done." Katniss nodded confidently. 

"Welcome to the start of the rebellion."

"Alright," Haymitch said, waving his hands about. "One step at a time. Peeta, go find Finnick, make friends, whatever it is you do with that wholesome... childlike innocence thing you've got going on," he said, and Peeta nodded, leaving the room. You considered yourself an excellent judge of character, and found yourself glad to be surrounded by the people you were. 

"What about us, Haymitch?" Katniss asked and he took another swig of his drink, swaying slightly. 

"We," he hiccupped, "are gonna talk about the games."

***

The six of you sat around a grand mahogany table; you didn't know it was mahogany until Haymitch stabbed it with a butter knife, and he was scolded by Effie for damaging such a stunning piece of furniture. You liked her a lot, but she was a little out of touch.

The three of you and Katniss had taken your seats, waiting in silence for Peeta and Finnick. You wanted to go to him, make sure he was alright, but you knew that there was reason for Haymitch sending Peeta. You were all headed to the Hunger Games. Friendship wasn't enough. An alliance had to form to guarantee even a sliver of a chance of survival. 

When the two of them walked in the room, they were talking in hushed tones, and before separating to sit either side of the table, Finnick held out his hand to shake Peetas, and when they had, Peeta clapped him gently on the back. Progress. Finnick sat down next to you and you whispered, "I'm here when you want to talk."

"Thank you," he replied.

"Alright," Effie said. "Now, before we begin, has anyone got anything to say?" 

You raised your hand meekly. "This isn't a complaint," you clarified, "but why have District 4 and 12 been put together? I know we need a new mentor..." you took a moment to compose yourself, "but why merge? There are plenty of victors to train us."

"We weren't told," Peeta answered, and then he and Haymitch exchanged a look that had all eyes settle on the partially sober man. 

"Snow hates Katniss," he said. "She is the face of this rebellion. The girl on fire. The Mockingjay. Dividing up a mentor's time amongst 4 tributes instead of 2 puts them all at a disadvantage, especially in a Quarter Quell. Not only that, but the two of you haven't exactly been quiet about your hatred for the games." 

"All victors hate the games," you said, "except the Careers." 

"But you've publicly said so," Haymitch said.

"Once," Finnick replied. "The year y/n won, and we said that it was wrong to have to live with such a burden as the Hunger Games at such a young age." 

"And your words left a mark in the snow," Haymitch said poetically. He pointed at you and Finnick. "Finnick poses a large threat to the president."

"So, killing Mags," Finnick said, and you saw his knuckles whiten as he balled his hands into fists. "That wasn't an accident."

Haymitch spoke carefully. "People like you Finnick. Your a darling in the Capitol. Good looks, charm, charisma. If you chose to speak out against Snow, a lot of people would listen."

Finnick leant back against the seat, mouth drawn into a thin line as he folded his arms. 

"But Snow got it wrong," Katniss said. "He thinks putting us together will kill us." She almost chuckled as she shook her head. "This is the beginning of the alliance that'll kill him." 

You picked up your glass from the table, holding out, and the others joined. "To the Mockingjay," you said, and everyone clinked glasses, "and the end of President Snow."