𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫, Finnick Odair

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌

The moonlight spilled through the wide windows of the District 4 apartment, casting a soft glow across the room. The Capitol was eerily quiet tonight, a stillness that only added to the tension coiled in Aphrodite's chest. Tomorrow, they'd be in the arena. Tomorrow, everything would change.

Aphrodite sat on the edge of the sofa, staring out into the city, when she heard Ash's footsteps approach. He sat down beside her, his presence warm and familiar in a way that soothed the nerves she'd been hiding all day.

"You couldn't sleep either?" Ash asked quietly.

She shook her head, her gaze distant. "Too much to think about."

Ash leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Tomorrow..." he started, but then hesitated, his voice faltering under the weight of the word.

"Yeah," Aphrodite whispered, knowing exactly what he was thinking. The Games were almost here. No more training, no more strategizing from the safety of the Capitol. It was real now.

They sat in silence for a moment, the heaviness of what was coming settling between them. Then Ash spoke again, his voice softer this time. "I just... I want you to know I'm glad I have you in this. Whatever happens out there."

Aphrodite's chest tightened, the weight of his words heavier than she'd expected. She glanced over at him, seeing the flicker of fear in his eyes—fear for her, fear for himself. He wasn't like the others, not like Venus or the Career tributes who thrived on violence. He was kind, even in a place where kindness didn't belong.

"I'm glad too," she replied, her voice quieter than usual. "We're going to look out for each other. I won't let anything happen to you."

Ash gave a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "And I'll do the same. But... Aphrodite, are you sure about all of this? The alliance...?"

She knew what he was asking. He was still uncertain about her teaming up with Venus, unsure of all the moves she was making. He trusted her—he always had—but the stakes were so much higher now.

"I'm sure," she said, her voice steady. "We need to survive. That's the only way. I'll do what I have to."

Ash frowned, his brow furrowed in concern. "I just don't want you to lose yourself in all of this."

Aphrodite let out a soft laugh, but there was no humour in it. "Lose myself? Ash, I've been lost in this since the day my name was called. We both have." 

Wrong I have been lost in this since the day my dad left.

He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "Maybe. But whatever happens, we're still us."

She looked down at their hands, feeling the warmth of his touch. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe it—that they could come out of this unchanged, still the people they were before. But deep down, she knew better. The arena would change them. It always did.

Aphrodite took a deep breath, leaning her head back against the couch. "We'll get through it, Ash. One way or another, we will."

He nodded, though his eyes were still clouded with doubt. They both knew the truth—that the Games didn't just take your life, they took your soul, piece by piece.

They sat there in the quiet of the Capitol night, side by side until the weight of the silence became too much. Finally, Ash broke it, his voice barely a whisper. "Promise me something?"

Aphrodite turned to him, her expression softening. "What?"

"Promise me you won't give up," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "No matter what happens in there. Don't let them win."