The Midnight Sun - Finnick Odair

ix.

"The winner of the 72nd Hunger Games, Alaska Truehart! Doesn't she look fabulous?" Caesar gushed to the crowd, holding my hand up high in his, and I beamed the widest, sweetest smile I could gather, my eyes squinting as I did so. The crowd erupted in cheers, clapping enthusiastically, some throwing flowers onto the stage.

As the applause died down, Caesar motioned to the seat next to him.

"Have a seat, right here," he helped me sit, holding my hand as I made sure the gown was in place.

"My my. Now, Alaska, being back here must be a tremendously emotional time for you, am I right in saying that?" he offered the microphone to me.

I sighed a dramatic sigh, "Well, Caesar, you're absolutely right. Being back here..." I paused, for effect, my voice sorrowed "...it truly breaks me."

Caesar's purple tinted eyebrows frowned as he rubbed my arm sympathetically.

"And I think we're all too familiar with the story, aren't we folks?" he turned to the crowd, a solemn tone in his voice, so much so that if I didn't know what the citizens of the Capitol were like, I would almost think that he actually felt sorry for me.

"Why is it, Alaska, that you tried to take your own life in the arena that night?" Again, the microphone was shoved back in my face.

"Oh I-" I shook my head, eyebrows scrunching up as I held back the tears melodramatically. It wasn't that I was acting, per say, but it was dramatically enhanced. "I would've done anything for him. I couldn't bear it...watching his life slip away and knowing there was nothing I could do. I couldn't live with it." At least that part was true. I couldn't live with it, not really. This wasn't living. This was hell. But, as I had said to Katniss on the rooftop, I wasn't in love with him, as I thought I was in the moment. I loved him, yes, very much, but I wasn't in love with him. I knew that now.

The audience, however, were now clearly distressed, a lot of them tearful and sobbing.

"And this was why you got that famous name we've all come to know and love, The Midnight Sun, am I right? That the sun was in the sky even thought it was the dead of night as you stood at the edge of the mountain top, ready to end it all?"

Wow. Caesar should've got a career in writing dramatic novels.

"I suppose so, yes." I nodded, "Before the dark days, the state of Alaska used to be called The Midnight Sun, too. That's why Renly called me that anyway..." I added, though I knew that everyone knew this already – the Capitol prided themselves on being able to coincidentally bring these two facts together to give me a nickname. They thought it was clever.

"Ahhh, beauty and brains! How are we ever going to let you go, Alaska?" Caesar erupted emotionally, but like a flick of a switch, he was back to a melancholy tone.

"And how have things been for you since that night that you lost Renly? Have you been able to move on? Are you ready for love?"

"Oh Caesar I think we both know that no one is ever truly ready for love," I turned to the audience this time, speaking deliberately slowly, in ambiguity, leaving them hanging onto every word.

"And what a shame it would be...to fall in love again...only to be slaughtered side by side. All for nothing..." A single tear trickled down my cheek, "Oh how could I be so stupid?" With this, my head fell into my hands, my theatrical show nearing its end in hopes of them stopping the games, but at this point, I knew I had the crowd eating out of the palm of my hand – emotional wrecks. If it wasn't for the fact that they were playing with our lives, I would almost feel sorry for playing with their emotions like this.

"Now hold on a minute," he put a hand on my back, leaning forward in curiosity.

"Are you saying that he's...here? In the games?" he added for clarity.

I composed myself quickly, looking him dead in the eyes as I said his name, "All I can say, Caesar," I turned back to the audience, trying to catch as many of their eyes as I could against the blinding lights shining on the stage, "Is that...it's the things we love most that destroy us." 

...

The blade of the pocket knife that Marlo had gifted me the day of my 17th birthday was pressed tightly to Snow's neck, and my hand was steady as a rock.

I was so close to him, my face just inches from his, that I could smell the sickeningly sweet stench of genetically engineered roses on him, to the point that it made me want to gag. My jaw was clenched, teeth gritted, and the crazed look in my eyes intense, but he didn't even flinch. He looked...bored, even.

"You will pay for what you've done." I pressed the knife harder, the pressure of the blade showing the first signs of blood, "For my dad, for Blaise," my voice cracked and the tears blurred my vision now, "for Renly, for making me kill Marlo." I grabbed the back of his head in an iron grip with my left hand, pushing him closer into my knife so he had nowhere else to turn.

"For all the innocent lives that have died at your hands." His stare was impassive, before the corners of his lips twisted into a vicious grin.

"Are you quite done, Miss Truehart?" He droned haughtily, to which I scowled. "I do have other things to be getting on with." He stopped, a fake look of concern on his face, "And how is your dear mother? I've heard she's been a bit...down in the dumps."

"You wretched swine," I snarled.

"And those adorable little angels, Ailey and Blue, is it?" he didn't let up, mocking me "It would be a shame if something tragic happened to them too...wouldn't it Miss Truehart?"

My hands loosened grip, and he just stared at me expectantly, until my hands fell, away from him, and all I could do was stand in front of him, immobile.

He seemed unfazed by the drops of blood running from his neck and down his pristine white shirt, and the trickling of crimson red that was slowly coating the white rose that sat attached to his velvet suit.

"Don't you see," he voiced knowingly, "It's the things we love most that destroy us."

...

The crowd were on their feet, most of them breathlessly bawling, with a few dumbfounded gasps of Finnick's name, and screeches and demands of the games to be stopped. Caesar looked on, unsure of what to do, so I stood up, wiping the stray tear away, holding my head high. With a small graceful dip of my shoulders, I let the gown slide down my arms, and fall at my feet, revealing a simple black satin dress, fitted, and ending at my thighs. It was so unlike what was expected, no bright colours and pompous, tacky accessories. It was so not what the Capitol were used to – it was me in all my simplicity. The hem of the dress was lightly embellished by glitter, so small, you could hardly see it, but they reflected off the light and twinkled dazzlingly. I felt around for the button in my palm, which still scarred from yesterday's individual assessment (though the Capitol ointment helped healing and recovery two times faster) and pressed.

The crowd, every single one, came to a standstill. From the one single flake of glitter came an eerily enchanting song. The voice belonged to Katniss, singing shakily – the song she sang to Rue, as she lay dying on the grass in the last Games.

"Truly...stunning." Caesar breathed, "Miss Truehart, may your heart be as true as your soul. Ladies and gentlemen, your tribute from District 8. Alaska Truehart!" He held my hand high again, parading me to the masses, and the crowd went wild, snapped back to reality by Caesar's words. I said no more as he let go, and I walked off stage, head held high, the song fading into silence.