Halcyon

Prologue: The 65th Victor

Disclaimer: If you think anything you recognise does not belong to me, you are… right. NOTHING BELONGS TO ME. I HAVE NOTHING. I AM NOTHING. I'm just very sad and lonely.

The roar of the crowd echoes from the holographic projector, filling the silent parlour with its yells and cheers of excitement.

Cameras follow as a tall, bronze-haired teenager saunters up to the stage, wearing a dazzling smile that rivals the brilliance of the lights irradiating his path. His pulchritudinous visage flashes across the giant screens, adding onto the charm of his grin and bringing with it even louder hurrahs from the people gathered in the grandiose stadium.

Caesar Flickerman, current resident host of the games' interviews, stands from his seat on one of the two couches present on stage, and laughs heartily as he welcomes the teenager to stand beside him. His getup this year is reminiscent of a jester with his outlandish harlequin suit and neon yellow powdered wig that have been in style for the better part of the season. He is wearing a bright orange blush on his cheekbones and his dark eyes are lined with a matching orange paint. As always, Caesar's unnaturally white teeth stands out from his equally as unnatural tanned skin, but that was what a typical Capitolite will look like – false and outrageous.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" He calls into his microphone, an arm stretched out to the teenager who now stood before him, a vision of pride and triumph. "Let me present to you, the winner of the 65th Hunger Games – District 4's Finnick Odair!"

Once again, the crowd hollers.

Lux cringes at the noise and looks away from the television, only to catch the icy glare in her mother's cold eyes. She flinches again and turns back to the hologram flickering in front of her and clenches her fists instead in order to not look away again.

Caesar welcomes Finnick onto the spare couch and she watches as the latter spreads himself across the furniture, arms splayed out behind him and his right leg crossed over his left knee, looking as comfortable as one will in their own home.

"So tell me, Finnick," Caesar says, leaning over towards him with a grin. "How are you doing?"

The teenager laughs and makes a sweeping motion at his self. "I'm fantastic. The doctors patched me up real good and my styling team did a great job on my wardrobe, wouldn't you say?"

The question directed at the audience makes for another round of congruous whooping.

"I say you look absolutely wonderful, and I'm pretty sure everyone agrees with me," Caesar chirps. "Now on to the more serious matters… Finnick, you're only 14, am I right? How does it feel to be the youngest victor in the history of the games?"

Finnick takes a moment, the smile never leaving his face and Lux can almost see the swooning of the entire female population in the crowd despite the cameras not aiming at them. She hears the excited murmuring and hates that the tears are welling up in her eyes.

"I'm very blessed and fortunate, of course," Finnick replies smoothly with a voice unfitting for a boy his age. "By the lovely people of the Capitol who supported and sponsored me during the game," He pauses to throw a beaming grin at the camera and this time, Lux can hear the swooning of the audience. "It is a heavy crown to bear, but I shall bear it well for the people who bestowed this honour onto me."

"Well said! Very well-said, indeed!" Caesar praises. "I'm sure a handsome young man like you will wear it well. Now, I've been dying to know this – I'm certain everyone in Panem agrees with me – but in the last minutes before the game ended, the tribute from District 1 whispered something to you. Something the cameras couldn't quite catch. You wouldn't mind sharing with us what it is, would you?"

Finnick hesitates once more, although this time, he isn't wearing a smile. Instead, his eyes glistens and the magnified view on the screen capture every emotion that flickers across his face. The audience grows quiet at the sudden drop in his demeanour and waits while he takes in slow, shuddering breaths.

"I made a promise," He finally says, looking down at his hand in his lap with a small frown. "I made him a promise to pass on some words to his family."

"And that is?" Caesar presses on.

The blankness is his expression breaks and the glowing, charming disposition that had first appeared on stage, returns.

"For me to know and for all of you to find out," He says and the stadium is in uproar anew.

Lux tunes out the rest of the interview and instead focuses on the one word that reverberates over and over again in her head.

When a sharp, shooting pain finally registers in the fuzzy mind, she blinks and looks down at her hands in her lap. Angry red marks mar the pale skin of her thigh where her nails have been digging into them during the whole interview. Some deeper nicks are leaking baubles of fresh blood, but she doesn't even care enough to wipe them away or to clean up her wounds.

All she cares about is the fact that he broke a promise to her, and he isn't coming back to fix it.

New story alert!

I've had this idea revolving in my head ever since I read Catching Fire (which was a long while ago), but it was something that I couldn't pen down because I couldn't visualise the right Finnick. Now that I've got a visual imagery of him - thank you, Sam - I am finally able to put down my ideas into words and turn those words into a story that I hope is worthy of your time.

I love Odesta, don't get me wrong. Ever since I read up on the part with the jabberjays, I read the hell out of the Odesta fics. But I'm also a sucker for OCs and romance stories and this is my first attempt at trying my hand in pairing one part of an end-game pairing with my own character.

As always, reviews are lovely and pushes me to continue writing.