The Princess of Panem | Finnick Odair x oc

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The underground headquarters smells of damp earth and cold steel, and every step echoes against the stone walls as I hurry down the shadowed hall. My brother's message still burns in my mind, the urgency of his words and his pleas for me to cover for him simmering with every step I take. I swear under my breath, muttering curses at Aurelius. This was supposed to be his job, his responsibility. But now, with him running late, the task falls on me: delivering the rebellion's plan to the victors.

As I reach the main room, the dim lighting and familiar tang of metal greets me, sharpening my focus. Rows of weaponry line the walls—daggers, bows, spears—all meticulously kept, poised for a battle that could change everything. I move to the weapon rack, scanning for my daggers. They're right where I left them during my last training session, sleek and deadly. The weight of them in my hands is a comforting anchor, grounding me. I twirl one absentmindedly, letting the familiar feel calm the edge of my nerves.

The sound of voices echoes down the hallway. I hear footsteps approaching, growing louder, and moments later, the unmistakable, cutting voice of Johanna Mason carries through the room. I slip back into the shadows, watching as the victors file in, most of them silent and tense, except Johanna, who's muttering curses and half-formed threats to herself, as if she's simply thinking out loud.

Finnick steps in behind her, his face set, arms crossed, a slight scowl on his face. His tousled hair falls over his eyes, and he stands slightly apart from the others, watching the room with that calculating gaze I know so well. But he doesn't notice me yet. None of them do.

I wait a moment longer, the hint of a smirk tugging at my lips, savoring the last breath of invisibility before stepping out into the dim glow. My heels click against the stone, and all heads snap toward me, the expressions of horror and disbelief almost comical as realization hits them.

For a heartbeat, there's a stunned silence, and then Johanna's face twists with fury. She lunges for a broken piece of wood lying on the floor, brandishing it like a weapon as she points it at me, her eyes blazing with suspicion.

"I should've known this was a trap," she spits, her knuckles white around the makeshift weapon. "How could I be so foolish?"

I simply raise an eyebrow, staying where I am, unbothered, relaxed. "Put that thing down," I say, my voice dripping with disdain.

"Why? You scared?" Johanna sneers, her grip tightening as she takes a threatening step forward.

I let a smirk curl across my lips. "No," I say slowly, "it just looks ridiculous." My gaze drops to the pathetic scrap of wood she's holding. "Do you seriously plan on using this to attack me?"

Johanna's eyes narrow, and her smirk mirrors mine. "I'll do it with my bare fucking hands if I need to."

At her words, the entire room shifts. The victors all seem to awaken from a trance, bristling with tension, eyes glinting with something between fear and determination. Muscles tense, stances widen, and they're ready to attack. I can feel the hostility simmering in the air, like a storm about to break.

But Finnick doesn't move. He stays where he is, his gaze fixed on me, watching with an expression that I can't quite decipher. There's no shock, no anger. Just... intensity. A flicker of something darker in those sea-green eyes. And in that moment, with him looking at me like that, the weight of our shared history, the words we left unspoken, presses down on me like a physical force. But I don't let my gaze waver.

Before the others can move, the sound of approaching footsteps echoes down the stairwell, and I turn just as Aurelius enters the room. He's out of breath, his face flushed with exertion, but his gaze sharpens the moment he takes in the scene. With an exasperated sigh, he lifts a hand in a calming gesture.