𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝑶𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒓

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄.

For Love

No one cried for The Victors as they ascended the steps to be Reaped.

The Hamm family had strict instructions they weren't to shed a tear. They'd save the tears for when they said their goodbyes, in private, away from prying eyes.

But the lack of tears from the Mansfield family could be put down to one reason, and one reason alone—fury. The parents of Kai had worked day in and day out to ensure their kids didn't need to struggle, not once having to purchase Tesserae or want for anything. Their son lived a life of luxury, by District standards. And he'd thrown it all out, he'd volunteered when he had no need to. He'd volunteered for a girl, one who had always and would always, hate his guts. 

Elio volunteered in the name of love. He did it to save someone he loved, he didn't do it to prove anything or make any grandiose point. Elio wasn't trying to make Jaxon think he was tough and could kill people, no, everyone knew Elio would die. Try as he might, he wouldn't make it out alive. He sacrificed his life.

Kai Mansfield loved the idea of Rosemary Blue Aldine. The juxtaposing strength and beauty. It pulled him into her orbit, he was entranced by it, but he didn't love—or, quite frankly, even like—Rosie.

He volunteered to prove a point, he did it to make himself look better. The choice was selfish in every. single. way.

So, the Mansfields were filled with white-hot anger at their son.

Once the shock wore off—both the shock of the Quarter Quell's cruel theme, and the shock that Rosie had no chance of getting out, she began to plan. She'd pulled Kit aside, locked up all of his alcohol, slapped him when he tried to fall asleep, and finally talked it over with him. She demanded that, if Kai was chosen, he was to keep his damn mouth shut and, under no circumstances, try and play martyr and volunteer. That, if he did that, Rosie would make it her life's mission to kill him within the first ten minutes of the Games. Consequences be damned.

Kit had told her that that wasn't happening.

They'd fought—not physically, just shouting.

Eventually Kit told her that he had made a great deal of effort to make sure she stayed alive and he wasn't about to give up at what would—hopefully—the last hurdle. The pair bargained on Kai Mansfield not being a total psychopath and volunteering to go in again, which left it fifty-fifty. Kit Anson or Kai Mansfield. With the wildcard of Kai being an absolute psychopath and volunteering to prove yet another point.

You'd think after three years of Kit and Zavir ensuring he didn't have the opportunity to speak on the train, and Kit, Zavir, Lola, Finnick and Haymitch ensuring he couldn't speak to her in the accommodation, he'd get the hint, but he didn't. If anything, he got more persistent.

In the years since Kai had started—for lack of a better word—stalking Rosie, Zavir had stepped up. Some of her naïvety surrounding the Games had been pulled away and the harsh reality had hit her.

Nancy had allowed Rosie one glass of alcohol to curb her anxiety, and Kit the usual one flask.

With a blank face, and too-short dress, Rosie took her place to the left of Zavir, whose discomfort was palpable.

"Welcome. Welcome," Zavir broke the tense silence and spoke into the microphone. Her outfit was toned down, a display of her opinion on the Quarter Quell. "As we celebrate the 75th anniversary, and 3rd Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games. As always... ladies first." Zavir's heels clicked closer and closer, until she reached the bowl with a singular slip of white paper. Anger filled Rosie, Lois was supposed to be in there. There was no dramatics when Zavir picked out the slip, it seemed as though she wanted it over with. "The female Tribute from District 9," Zavir held the paper in front of her, as if there was more than one option, "Rosemary Blue Aldine."