Lovely As You Are
fandom: the hunger games (novels)
characters: gale hawthorne, madge undersee. gale-centric with some implied gale x madge goodness
summary: 'Lovely as you are Undersee, you've come to the wrong place for favours.' Gale thinks that Madge lives a life worlds away from his own. After Katniss is reaped for the 74th Hunger Games, he starts to see that everyone is born under the same sun.
a/n: Yeah, look. If you listen to Ben Howard on a rainy day you'll start itching to throw these characters together too. Forgive me for it's been years since I actually read THG so I may inadvertently take some creative licenses with canon. Shout-out to the following authors for their Gadge-ly inspiration: Medea Smyke, Solaryllis, Canidae…particularly in case some elements from their stories are so ingrained in my head I've canonised them in my head.
On the night before the reaping for the 74th annual Hunger Games a girl who resembles Primrose Everdeen appears at the Hawthorne family's front door.
At least, this is what Gale thinks as he pulls the door open and nods for her to step inside. The Prim he knows has rosy cheeks and a ready smile. This imposter can barely look at him and instead closely examines the floorboards like she's trying to burn them into her memory. Good thing too, because the comforting look Gale attempts to give her ends up with his forehead wrinkling into a pained sigh.
"Are you nervous for tomorrow, Prim?" Nine-year-old Vick asks eagerly. Gale wants to thump his brother on the head for being so tactless, but settles for a steely glare that has a similar effect. "Not that you should be!" Vick adds quickly, flashing the sympathetic smile that Gale couldn't conjure up earlier.
"Vick, your homework won't write itself," Hazelle interjects. Prim looks relieved at avoiding Vick's question. "The dresses are all done, honey. I'd offer for you to stay, but I know you'll want to spend tonight with your family."
Prim nods quickly, offering Hazelle a smile that Gale knows is insincere. He'd know it anywhere – it's the same smile Katniss gives out most of the time. It's a small victory when he gets to see the real one; although that's usually at his own expense if he does something stupid while hunting.
Later, when he's tucking Posy into bed, he's caught off guard when the four-year-old asks him why Prim looked so sad when she came to their door that evening. He hesitates for a moment, wondering whether he should invent something far better than the truth.
"Well, Pose…" he begins, deciding that now was as good a time as any to let his sister in on a censored version of what tomorrow meant, "Tomorrow's the reaping. And since Prim is twelve now, she might get picked for…for having to leave District 12."
Posy shakes her head. "She shouldn't worry. My friend at playgroup says blonde people never get picked in the reaping."
Gale freezes; his hand resting on a tuft of Posy's black hair that he had been absentmindedly stroking. Since when are toddlers in a weekly playgroup discussing district dynamics? "Who says that?"
"Endor Cartwright. He said he watches every year and it's always people with hair like mine."
Gale frowns. Cartwright…the family owns a shoe-shop in town. Merchants. The kid was old enough to toss theories around about a class divide but had probably never heard of tesserae in his life.
"Well, he's wrong. No one's safe. No matter what colour their hair is." His tone is darker than intended and he quickly plants a kiss on Posy's forehead. "'Cept you, Pose. You're safe, and so is Prim. Those kids don't know what they're talking about."
Sleep is evasive that night. As Gale lies wide awake, he counts up all the District 12 tributes that he can remember. Seam. Seam. Merchant. Seam. Seam. Seam. Two merchants one year! Seam. Seam… he rolls in his cot so he can stifle a groan with his pillow. If it only it were as simple as the hair on his family's heads. He'd get his hands on the bucket of bleach from the school supply cupboard in a heartbeat.
That morning when the birds start chirping and he still hasn't dozed off, he decides to cut his losses and get an early start to what will be a long day. He can sleep when it's all over, he reasons. When he won't have to risk dreams of people he loves getting ripped apart limb from limb.
His good mood at presenting a fresh loaf of bread to Katniss that morning subsides all too quickly. Katniss doesn't notice, too occupied with their haul of fish and greens and berries. Thoughts swim around in his head about kids after their curt conversation. Good kids like Rory, Vick and Prim who deserve better than what this life has lined up for them. Kids like Catnip who were cheated out of being kids by the hunger in their stomachs.
And then there's kids who come from families like the Cartwrights. Chubby cheeks, round bellies and sky-coloured eyes. Sure, they might toil under the same sun and fear the same reaping but for the most part all those merchants live in a different world.
One where a loaf of bread isn't a reason to celebrate.
So when the mayor's daughter stands at the back porch of a house twice the size of Gale and Katniss' combined, wearing a pin brighter than the sunlight reflecting off her hair, Gale feels a surge of hostility that he doesn't bother to restrain.
"Pretty dress," he shoots. Out of all the clothes that had ever passed through his mother's hands and hung out to dry in his home, he's never seen anything like what Madge Undersee is wearing today. Of course, no one in the Seam tends to wear white clothes. Coal dust sees to that.
Madge looks at him, and if she's surprised he's spoken – usually he lets Katniss do the talking – she doesn't show it. "Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"
Gale almost laughs. If blondes don't get reaped, Madge Undersee is the blondest of them all. He tells her this; albeit in not those exact words. He wonders what the mayor's daughter could possibly say to defend herself, but Katniss jumps in before he gets an answer.
Madge doesn't give him another glance as she presses the money into Katniss' hand and wishes her luck for the reaping. Gale is disappointed. At least if she'd tried to reason her privilege he could feel satisfied that she deserved the dig.
They're already back to the Seam when they count and divide the morning's haul. Gale silently mouths the numbers as he sifts through the coins. "This is what we got for the strawberries?"
Katniss nods, narrowing her eyes. "Why? Is it not enough? I figured I didn't need to count it in front of her."
Gale clenches his teeth and takes a sharp inhale of breath. "She overpaid us."
"By how much?"
"Doesn't matter." Gale snaps back. Like a few coins could magically account for having thirty less entries in the bowl this year? He didn't owe the mayor's daughter anything, and he liked it that way. Ignoring the look of bewilderment on Katniss' face, he snatches up his half of their bounty. "You go on, get ready. I'll go fix it up. I think Vick's allergic to berries anyway and he's just covering it up."
That's an exaggeration. Last time he brought berries home, Vick overindulged and complained of a stomachach for hours. But Gale doesn't feel like explaining himself to Katniss. She's a good friend, and a good listener, but often dismissive when he tries to explain why it matters that Best in Class is always awarded to a merchant student ever year and it matters that kids from town get sick less, but can afford medicine when they do. The mayor's daughter of all people couldn't make good the difference by giving them a tip like they were her servants.
He stalks off in the direction of town before Katniss can object.