Notes: This is a birthday present for FanficAllergy and is completely written...and currently in the process of being edited.

Happy birthday to my usual co-author!

oOo

Effie Trinket didn't know when she'd gotten her soulmark.

Oh, she knew she'd been five. But the exact date was a mystery.

The grandiose bronze handwriting reading simply *Miss Trinket* had appeared one day and she hadn't even noticed! The perils of having one's soulmark on the back of one's thigh, she supposed.

When she first discovered it she was excited, full of hope for when she'd meet her soulmate.

But her mother wasn't. "Don't act like a common district ragamuffin, Euphemia. We are Capitol."

Effie knew what that meant. Straightening her posture and making certain her wig hadn't fallen off or gone askew, she said, "I'm sorry, Mother." Then she turned at her mother's gesture so her mother could see her leg.

"Well, at least it's somewhere you can hide it," her mother said, examining the mark. "Besides, with such a generic phrase, it's unlikely you'll even know when you meet them."

Effie's chin jutted out. "I bet I will."

Her mother raised a single perfectly manicured eyebrow. "If you say so."

But her mother was right. In the three months between her discovery of her soulmark and her sixth birthday, Effie was greeted as "Miss Trinket" no less than nine times. None of those people were the right age, of course. But with such a generic phrase, such perfectly practiced handwriting, and a wide range of dates for her soulmate's birthdate, how on earth was she to find them?

oOo

No one had done an official study, but in Panem, approximately one out of every five children was born with a soulmark, and another one out of every five acquired one later in life.

The Odair family proved the rule. After four children who were unlucky - or perhaps lucky - enough to be born unmarked, their fifth child popped out of the womb with fancy flamingo pink writing wrapped all the way around his hips.

As Finnick's father read the words, his expression fell. He silently handed the baby to his wife, who turned the infant so she could read the words as well.

"Well," she said, then closed her mouth. Her lips trembled as her son began to shriek. Putting him to her breast, she stroked one hand over his almost hairless head. "I suppose we know he'll win."

"But so young." His voice broke.

She shook her head. "Far better than him losing."

Her husband hesitated but eventually nodded. "Far better."

oOo

By the time Effie was eleven, she'd given up on finding her soulmate.

In the five and a half years she'd been counting, over two hundred people had greeted her with the words "Miss Trinket." Over two hundred! And she knew she'd missed some.

And this year in school they'd had a lesson about the myth of soulmates. How soulmates were an affront to the Capitol. How nothing could be more important than the Capitol. How they weren't real anyway, just a hoax and a lie. Haymitch Abernathy was used as an example.

Effie shuddered. Everyone knew about Haymitch Abernathy.

That wouldn't be her. It wouldn't.

Instead, she turned her interest to other, more important things. Such as her dreams of becoming a fashion designer. And keeping herself at the top of the pecking order among her group of friends. And her first real crush, on the Victor of the 57th Hunger Games, a gorgeous eighteen-year-old from District One named Diamond. Every time she saw him, her heart flipped a little.

And if it flipped even more at the thought of her soulmate one day greeting her with a bow and a kiss to the hand and a sensuous voice saying, "Miss Trinket"?

Well, that wasn't anyone's business but her own.

oOo

When Finnick was six, his parents sat him down and explained why, even though his soulmark outright said he would win the Hunger Games, they weren't sending him to the training camp.

Oh, they said all sorts of things, things like "We don't want you to feel like you have to go into the Games" and "Most people don't have soulmates and live perfectly happy lives" and "You could be a great fisherman, you know."

Finnick nodded along but inwardly rolled his eyes. No one ever told his third-oldest sister that she shouldn't be excited to meet the soulmate whose words had appeared when she was four. But the ocean blue *I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you!* on her shoulder was far less worrisome than his.

Well, if he couldn't go to the training camp, he'd just have to train even harder in the after school classes all the kids in Four attended. And on his own, whenever he could.

Because even if his parents hoped he might be able to avoid the Games, he knew the truth.

There was no avoiding fate.

oOo

Designing fashion wasn't nearly as fun as Effie had always thought it would be.

Possibly - most likely, a little part of her whispered - because she wasn't very good at it.

Oh, she'd tried. But somehow it always seemed to come out wrong. Her sewing wasn't right, her clothing fell apart, and everything was just that tiny bit off. Even her designs were a failure.

Effie Trinket was never going to make it as a designer, and by the time she was seventeen, she knew it.

"It's terrible," she told her mother one day when they were at their favorite wig store. "I'm never going to be a fashion designer."

Her mother peered at herself in the mirror and adjusted the ice blue wig, setting it more firmly on her forehead. "It wasn't meant to be."

"But what am I supposed to do now? I've lost my dream! It's the worst thing in the world!"

"I'll take this one," her mother said to the clerk and handed him the wig, then turned back to her. "Euphemia. You will find something. Perhaps you should go into politics."

Effie wrinkled her nose. Politics was boring.

Her mother frowned. "Well, you'll find something."

The clerk slid the bill to her mother, who signed. Then he handed her the bag containing her brand new wig. "Madam Trinket." He nodded at Effie. "Miss Trinket."

Unwillingly, her heart sped up. She blushed. "Oh, well, thank you ever so much, your store is simply lovely."

But he didn't react.

Tamping down her disappointment, Effie followed her mother out of the store and to a nearby cafe.

Her mother eyed her as they sat down. "You're still hoping for a soulmate."

Effie looked down. "Not really."

"Hmph. Love is a myth, Euphemia. Soulmates are a tragedy at best. If you want sex, either find a willing boy or girl or just buy it."

Effie looked at her mother, who was clearly speaking from experience. She wondered if her mother had ever loved her father, or if he'd been a fling. Or bought and paid for. Part of her wanted to know, but the rest of her very much didn't.

Tearing her gaze away from her mother and toward one of the screens showing a replay of the Reaping for the Sixty-Third Hunger Games, she decided it didn't matter whether she ever met her soulmate or not.

Effie Trinket was going to make something of herself. And she would do it with or without her soulmate.

oOo

The Hunger Games were somehow more real when you were eligible for them.

Up until now, even with his soulmark, Finnick had been removed from them. Distant. Able to keep himself separate.

Now, standing in the square, waiting to see if his name was called, he couldn't.

A shudder ran through him at the thought. He knew fate would hold, that he would meet his soulmate; when the teacher had brought it up in school last year, she'd discussed how soulmates always met their other halves. He knew he would survive the Games. But part of him was terrified of dying anyway.

His name wasn't called. Not this year.

Not that he'd really expected it.

After the Reaping ended, after he knew he was safe for another year, he stayed in the square, watching as everyone left - first the tributes, then the Victors, then the regular citizens of Four, then the Peacekeepers. Finally there were only the people taking down the stage and cleaning up the mess. While it wasn't a holiday and there was no food, you couldn't cram that many teenagers in one place and avoid any mess at all.

Finnick forced his mind back to the Games. Was he ready for that? Could he kill other children?

He'd have to.

If he wanted to meet his soulmate, he'd have to.

For a second he debated. Did he need his soulmate that badly? Would his life be incomplete without them?

But fate would have its way. He knew that well enough.

No. He could do this. He would do this. In two years, Finnick Odair would be on that stage, and soon after he would win the Games.

After all, it was fated.

oOo