Chapter Text
--Ten years before the events of The Hunger Games--
Rhoswen hated fish.
She knew she was supposed to like it, being from district four and all, but staring out at the platter of fish she felt nausea bubble up in her belly and she had to clench her jaw to keep from vomiting right all over the red linen and gold plates.
Snow would’ve been mad if she did that. He told her she was perfect, so she believed him. Well, why wouldn’t she? He was her father, the President. He knew what he was talking about. And perfection didn’t consist of spewing over table sets.
Its eyes wouldn’t stop staring at her though. It wasn’t dead, but actually still flopping around. It sat on a tray of water, not enough to let it be comfortable, but enough to keep it alive. It’s mouth was agape, it’s fins slapping against the tray, barely audible over the music weaving through the mansion. But she could hear it. It wouldn’t stop ringing in her ears.
Laughter bubbled up to her left and she watched as women in large wigs and hats and men in colorful suits and makeup to match all talked and laughed over plates of food and drinks with fizzy bubbles. She couldn’t imagine what could be so funny. She wished she was talking with them. Even though she knew the conversation would be intolerable. It’d beat staring at the suffering fish.
“I can’t tell if you want to eat it or stab it,” a voice said. Rose’s eyes flickered upwards to see a boy smiling at her from across the table. He had sandy blonde hair and tan skin. His eyes stole the breath from her lungs. They were a stunning green color. The shade the sea was when it met the shore. Rose had never been to the beach, but staring into his gaze brought her as close as she figured she’d ever be.
Rose felt her eyes widen and her mouth open, then close. The boy grinned, a smile that brought heat flooding behind her cheekbones. She recognized that grin. But he was not just a boy with pretty eyes but the entire reason for this evening.
Finnick Odair. He had won the most recent sixty-fifth hunger games.
“It’s your fault,” she said, crossing her arms.
His brows rose, an amused spark still amidst the sea in his gaze. “What’s my fault?”
“The fish.” She said it like it was common knowledge because it sort of was. Maybe he was dumb, or all the tanning lotion got to his head. Because no one was that tan naturally.
“I fish but I didn’t kill that fish.” He pointed a finger at the strained being on the platter. Rose wasn’t quite sure what type it was, but it had pretty scales. Iridescent. Like the fabric Rose saw some women in the capital wear. She wondered if they used the fish for their dresses. She swallowed down another wave of nausea.
Her brows furrowed. “He’s not dead.”
“He might as well be.”
Rose pursed her lips. “I meant it’s your fault he’s here in the first place. If we weren’t celebrating you then he’d probably be back in the ocean with his family.”
“I hate to break it to you, princess, but your fish was probably raised on an aquatic plant in my district.” He paused, his eyes roaming over her. “Wait. Our district, right?”
Her chin dipped in a nod. It was true, but she’d never felt much connected to the district she was born in. It felt odd claiming it as hers. But then it felt odd claiming the Capitol too. She felt as though she had one foot in each territory and she was straddling the line between both, never fully in either one.
“Well then I sincerely apologize to this fish,” he said, the grin present on his lips alluding to the fact that he wasn’t really sorry. He studied her, his head cocking to the side. “I presume my apology won’t sate you, will it?”
She shook her head.
His eyes darted around for a moment before settling back on the girl. “What about we rescue him?”
Rose felt her lips part as his words registered. “Won’t people notice you’re gone? Won’t somebody get mad?” This entire party at the Presidential Palace was for him. It all anyone could talk about ever since he won.
“Yeah, but I don’t really care.” He shrugged, the gesture an almost mockery of boyishness. It would’ve appeared young to anyone else, but she could see a strange sort of shadow lingering in the depths of his eyes that conveyed his true age. Something much, much older than what he appeared.
Rose swallowed, a strange sort of fire burning in her belly, simmering deep into her veins. A warmth she had never felt before, an edge of thrill. “There’s a lake in the back,” she said. “We can put him there.”
“Is it a freshwater fish?” he asked.
Rose shrugged. “I thought you were supposed to be the fish expert.”
He frowned, looking down at the animal. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true. I guess we’ll just put him there and hope he doesn’t die.”
She gasped. “You’ll think he’ll die?”
His eyes widened as he registered her expression and he shook his head, as if he was trying not to panic her further. “No, of course not.”
“Then why did you-”
“Alright, let’s go.” He reached forward and deftly grabbed a bucket of ice which held an expensive-looking bottle of champagne. He handed the bottle to her and jerked his head at the group beside her. When she frowned, he sighed. “Pour them some. Distract them while I put him on ice.” Rose grimaced at the thought of him sliding the fish off the platter and into the bucket. She definitely had the easier job.
Rose took the bottle and plastered on the smile her father had made her practice in the mirror until it was stronger than the armor the peacekeepers wore.
“Can I offer you some more?” she asked, already uncorking the bottle and refilling their drinks.
They all crooned, smiling down at her. “So lovely.” “He’s raising her so well.” “What a peach.”
She thanked them, smiling so widely her cheeks hurt. She topped off their drinks, offering them compliments on their outfits and hair. They all exclaimed at her niceities, as was usual. She could’ve told them they were hideous and they would’ve thanked her. She would’ve felt nauseous again had she not been so used to it.
Rose finally turned around to see Finnick tucked into a shadow corner of the dining room, that same curve on his lips.
She walked over to him, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “What?”
“You really know how to work them, don’t you?”
She felt her face go hot. “What else was I supposed to occupy myself with here?” she muttered, pushing open the door.
The two kids walked into the kitchen where people in white coats were throwing finishing touches on plates, pouring colorful drinks, and setting things aflame in cast-iron skillets.
Finnick and Rose crept through, heads ducked, keeping as close to the wall as they could. And they had almost made it until…
“Hey! You two! You’re not supposed to be in here!”
“Shit,” Finnick muttered. He swore?! Rose wasn’t allowed to swear. Lucky. The envy was short-lived though because then his free hand was wrapping around hers, fingers interlacing, and he was tugging her forward until they were flying through the kitchen doors.
Rose’s breaths came in panicked bursts as they shot out into the servant corridor.
“Where do we go?” he asked.
“Left!” It was barely past her lips before he was pulling her along again, the ice bucket swinging against her hip. Rose had half the thought that in their rush to flee they might’ve knocked the fish out, but one glance downward showed he was still in the bucket, eyes wildly large, fins flapping aimlessly.
There was the sound of footsteps behind them and Finnick laughed, his fingers squeezing hers tighter as they raced forward, burning holes in her flats as she slid against the thick velvet rug.
They took a sharp turn into another hallway, the wall coming up and clipping her shoulder, but she barely felt it. All she could do was pump her legs, a burning in her lungs and calves. Not a bad burn, but a good one.
They took another turn and then they were stumbling out the door, letting it shut behind them. They waited for a moment, breaths loud in the silent night, waiting for the door to open, for the cooks to come sprinting out. But the silence remained.
Not for long though.
Finnick hunched over, bracing his hand on his knee. At first Rose thought he was crying, then she saw his smile. He was laughing. Great, big laughs that made his eyes go all squinty and watery.
“How are you laughing?” she asked. “We almost got in trouble! That was-”
“So much fun, right?” Finnick asked, looking up at her, white teeth flashing in the dark. Those were perfect too. Everything about him was perfect.
“I…fun?”
He rose a brow, grinning. “Yeah, fun. You ever heard of it before, princess?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course I’ve heard of it.”
He flicked her chin with one of his fingers. “Then smile a little.” He winked at her and made off towards the lake, bucket in tow. She stared after him, admiring his long legs and broad shoulders as he sloped down towards the water.
“You coming?” he called, not even looking back at her. She cursed under her breath and followed after him, picking up her dress so the white material wouldn’t get stains from the grass.
She joined Finnick in the sand where the water met the ground, crouching down like he was.
The fish was still there intact, though he looked as if he had seen better days.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” Finnick muttered, as if reading her mind. He grabbed the bucket and held it above the water. “You’ll be free soon.” She heard an odd note in his voice as he spoke that last sentence. Longing, maybe. She found an echo of that longing in her own chest, though she wasn’t sure why. She was happy. She had everything a child her age wanted and more. She had to be happy, she was sure of it.
“Any last words?” Finnick asked, turning to look at her.
She looked over at the fish, thinking, before reaching out to pat the side of the cold bucket. “Please don’t die.”
“Atta girl,” he said. She tried to ignore the things that did to her. She had never felt such a twisting in her belly. Maybe she was actually going ill. That explained the heat in her face and the fluttering in her hands.
Finnick turned the bucket and the thing flopped down into the water. It darted out into the inky depths, leaving nothing in its wake save for ripples.
A laugh burst out of her lips before she could stop it. She clamped a hand to her mouth but they kept coming. Soon, Finnick joined her. Their laughter filled the air and as they giggled, she leaned her head on his shoulder, not realizing until they had finally wound down from their laughing fit that she had.
“See, I knew you could do it,” he said.
“Commit fish poaching?”
He laughed, a husky, beautiful noise. “No. Laugh.”
She stiffened, leaning away from him. He was looking down at her, lips parted, eyes on her mouth. She felt that same warmth stir in her belly, pooling down at her spine.
He leaned forward and-
The sound of a twig snapping had them whirling away from one another. “What do you think you’re doing?” a shrill voice demanded.
Rose’s eyes closed briefly before she forced them open and stood, turning as Egeria came blazing towards them, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a permanent pucker as if she was constantly recovering from biting into a lemon.
Egeria was her father’s right-hand person. His assistant. Whatever he needed done he told her. He loved Egeria and Rose hated her.
The woman seized Rose’s arm, clamping down so tightly she winced. “When your father hears about this-”
“It was my fault,” Finnick said, coming up at her side, placing a hand on Rose’s back. His eyes fell down to where Egeria gripped her arm and her fingers immediately sprang free, letting the blood rush back into the limb. “I asked her to show me the lake. My apologies, I just needed some fresh air. You know how it is, I felt a little claustrophobic in there.”
Rose turned to see he was flashing Egeria a brilliant smile, his eyes falling down her body in a heated, sultry sort of way. An icky feeling spread across her skin like oil.
Egeria’s frown faltered and Rose saw pink flutter across her cheekbones. “It’s quite alright, I understand, Mr. Odair.” Rose fought the urge to gape. She had never seen Egeria be so…flustered before.
She looked back at Finnick. It was him. He was working his charm on her. The charm that led him to having hundreds of sponsors in the Capitol. Her being one of them. She had given him the gift that let him win. His trident. Not that she’d ever tell anyone that. She wasn’t even supposed to watch the games.
“Well, it’s best to get back to the party,” Egeria said, grabbing Rose’s elbow this time, tugging her forward.
“Well it was lovely meeting you,” Finnick said. Egeria somehow flushed further. They both turned and walked back up the hill. Egeria had her hand on the door when Finnick’s voice called out:
“And you too, Ms. Snow.” Rose froze before turning slightly, looking at him over her shoulder. “I hope to see you again, Rho.”
That warmth returned. Twofold. No one had ever called her Rho before. It had only ever been Rhoswen or Rose, the name her father gave her after he adopted her from District Four.
“Me too,” she said, but it was only a whisper, tugged away by the wind as Egeria all but shoved her through the doorway.
Egeria told Snow what she had done. But she didn’t care. She’d rather suffer a thousand punishments if it meant meeting Finnick that night.
For five years, she thought about him. Thought about that glint in his eyes and the slope of his lips as he grinned. She thought about his gaze like seaglass. But she never thought she’d speak with him again. Not when he was busy being passed around by the Capitol, and especially not with her being tucked away in the Presidential Palace.
So she watched him from afar for five years, never knowing that their time apart had an expiration date, and the clock was close to zero.