My first Hunger Games fic. I've been pretty obsessed with this ever since I finished the first book (I finished the others in the following 3 or 4 days XD), and wanted to try my hand at writing something. This is pretty short, just me testing the waters. I confess that I've always had a particular love for Prim (and Cinna, but he's not in this XD). Please read and review!
(And for those who have me on author watch: no, I'm not abandoning Kuroshitsuji. ;) )
Some days, it felt like all Primrose Everdeen was allowed to do was wait. Wait for father, Prim, now wait for Katniss; just you wait, Prim, just wait up. Everyone else can do things. You just sit by. It nearly drove her mad, all that waiting while Katniss hunted, while Katniss was at the Hob, while Katniss was out wherever Katniss goes. School was the only time and place she could be absolutely certain of her sister's whereabouts.
Not that she begrudged her sister; meat was too important, and the woods were too frightening for poor, doll-like Prim to venture into. But sometimes it was hard to just wait. Like the morning of the 74th reaping.
Katniss was out hunting – and when wasn't she? – leaving Prim and her mother to worry and fuss. Over each other, over the games, over the food, over the odds. More than an hour of solitary worrying and nigh smothering of the old, ugly cat in Prim's arms passed before Katniss slipped back in, and for a moment, Prim was free of worry and wait, before the dread of the reaping settled.
But they wouldn't be picked, would they?Not tiny Prim, who had only one slip out of the hundreds in the bowl. Oh, but Katniss… she had so many from the tessarae. But then, so did many children living in the Seam. They were safe, Prim told herself firmly, absolutely safe.
Which is why a wave of terror hit her when the strange Capitol woman called out "Primrose Everdeen!". One last wait for little Prim, she thought. Just go to the Capitol, enjoy the pampering, and then go into the arena to die. It was almost dreamlike, the way she drifted for the stage. Seam children died all the time. What was the difference?
Her foot had barely touched the first step to the stage when a familiar voice screamed. In a flash Katniss was hauling her backwards, placing herself like a barrier between her little sister and the Capitol people.
"No, Katniss!" Prim begged, blue eyes wide in her pale face. She grabbed her sister's arm, tiny fingers wrapping around the bow-strengthened forearm of the older girl.
"I volunteer," Katniss gasped, trying to shake off the twelve-year-old. "I'll go instead." Terror again washed over the child, and she felt like a porcelain doll, dropped and shattered on the hard ground.
"No! No, please, Katniss!" Prim shrieked, fingers scrabbling to pull her sister back, make her recant, out Prim back in the Games. She was too important; to Prim, to their mother, to Gale and Hazelle, to the people at the Hob.
Prim felt strong arms wrap around her and pull her back. She tried to thrash, but the captor – Gale, she recognized in the back of her mind – was too large and steady, and she was too small, so her strength quickly ran out. She hardly noticed when Peeta, the other tribute, was called up, too busy crying in Gale's arms.
She visited Katniss that night, of course, tearstains on her beautiful cheeks. More hugs, a kiss or two, and a promise that she would win; that was all Prim had of her beloved big sister. As they were being taken away, Katniss's screams burned into her mind.
"I love you! I love you!"
"I love you, Katniss!" Prim called back, fresh tears painting her cheeks as she was ushered away, clutching her mother's hand for a scant bit of comfort. "Don't forget, Katniss! I love you!"
And then she was gone, and there was one thing left for the grieving pair to do.
Wait.