𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 • 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

── 𝟢.𝟢𝟣

─ 𝐎 𝐍 𝐄 ─

𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄.

And that was to stop being one entirely.

Corra Featherstone had not always gone by that name – as eldest daughter of the Cardew household, it had always been expected of her to marry a man of equal status. Yet Corra had disappointed her mother and father irreparably when she had fallen in love and wed a Peacekeeper - Aurelius Featherstone. Corra had regretted that decision every day since, and Valeria had heard enough about it over the years to dull her desire to marry almost completely.

She did not want to be a disappointment, but most of all she did not want to be a nobody. But the family she had been born into was not one of high class or wealth. The Featherstones, well what was left of them anyway, lived in a small apartment on the outskirts of the Capitol, and though they weren't truly poor by any means – not like those who resided in the Districts – their place in the social hierarchy was dangerously low. As Valeria's mother put it, they were one level away from being regarded as pariahs.

The only thing which kept their regrettably low standing from not hitting rock bottom completely was Valeria's close and long-lived friendship with Questin Dovecote. Questin's family were extremely well off – had been since the war – and so Valeria kept the Featherstone name alive by attending events and parties by his side. It was the only thing she could do to avoid her mother's wrath and hold her reputation afloat. At least for now, anyway.

For the sole heir of the Featherstone name had other ideas in which to better herself – ones which did not involve wedding bells.

Sighing heavily as she twisted a lock of baby pink hair around the curling iron, Valeria squinted and looked into the vanity mirror. It was extremely old, probably dating back before the Dark Days, and as far as she knew it had come from the Cardew house with her mother. It was unlikely the Featherstones could ever have afforded something so exquisite. Despite its beauty, however, her mother despised the thing – possibly because it reminded her of everything she had given up – so it had stood in Valeria's small attic bedroom since she was a child. She had adored it even back then, the smooth polished wood and silvery accents decorating the curlicue designs around the legs.

Now as she stared into the mirror, seventeen year old Valeria admired the reflection facing her. She wasn't perfect by Capitol standards, but the slight slant of her dark eyes, rose coloured hair and fairly simple clothing style still made people look. At the parties she frequented with Questin, others often complimented her understated fashion, remarking that it suited her but they would never have the confidence to lose all the typical jewels and accessories themselves. Valeria still wasn't sure whether they were secretly mocking her with those comments – likening her to a District citizen in the nicest way possible – but it was always better to avoid confrontation, so she normally found something on their person to highlight and then promptly went on her way. Besides, she preferred a more minimalist look anyway, much to her mother's dismay.

Corra Featherstone could always be found shopping around town for the latest gaudy fashions, the largest and most exquisite headpieces she could afford, even if they suited her about as much as they would've suited Valeria – which was to say hardly at all. Her mother often chastised her for the lack of flavour in her outfits, claiming she'd be likened to District scum if she left the house the way she did. Valeria had long since learned to ignore it, and most of Questin's partygoers were far too intoxicated by the time she arrived on the doorstep every time to notice anyway.