MUST READ AUTHOR'S NOTE!
Hey guys, this Finnick/Katniss fanfic will be replacing my last one, because I think the idea's more interesting than the last one I started writing. I wanted to explain it before you started reading it, because it strays from the canon and would be confusing otherwise. Firstly, it's time for the Quarter Quell, and it's the same. All previous victors will be reaped because past victors have started to rebel along with their districts. But Prim was never reaped, therefor Katniss never participated in the Hunger Games. And because District Twelve had no living female victor, normal girls will be reaped from the ages of 12-18 to make up for it, causing Prim to get reaped, which makes Katniss volunteer. So the idea kind of blows up in Snow's face because of this. I hope you all give this a chance, despite how bizarre this idea seems, and I hope you enjoy it :)
Disclaimer: If I owned THG, would I be writing fanfictions?
[IF YOU DID NOT READ A/N READ IT NOW!]
Snow's icy blue eyes bore into the plasma-screen television in front of them. He analyzes every detail of this girl. This tribute. From the stance in which she holds herself, down to the flecks of gold that glimmer in those silvery eyes of hers. He wants to write her off, label her as a weakling, a bloodbath. But the nagging voice inside his ancient head bounces throughout his skull, refusing to be ignored.
Dangerous. This girl is dangerous.
Skilled, perhaps not? Only time will tell. But weapons don't always secure life. It's defiance. Pure willpower controlling one's crave for freedom and survival. And that's what scares him. Despite her scrawny, lithe figure, lies a fire bright as hell itself, ready to devour everything in its path. And currently, he's the only one holding her back. He's going to be her next target.
The first one, the trembling young blonde, Snow doesn't have a problem with. She'd be the first to die, he's sure of it. But the girl -Katniss- stepped out of line, catching not only his eyes, but also the eyes of the entire nation of Panem.
"I'd be worried if I were you." pipes up the soft, silky voice of his granddaughter, Jade. For a second he's startled. Her eyes, icy blue, so much like his own, reflect the same perilous flame shone in that girl's eyes. Of course, it's always been there. His granddaughter should not be underestimated. Just like her mother. Snow has to remind himself that she's loyal. Always has been. Always will be. Doesn't mean he'll take his eyes off her. Just like that girl. He'll keep a good eye on the two of them. A spark is tolerable as long as it's contained.
"Or not," she continues, standing up from the crimson couch which reeks of blood and roses, his signature scent, "There are twenty-three others. They're not children, grandfather, they're experienced killers. She might be the least of your worries." And with that, she's gone, leaving Snow's thoughts racing a mile per second.
She has a way of doing that. Saying barely anything, yet succeeding in muddling her victim's thoughts. If anyone can mess with Snow's mind, it's Jade. They're so similar, yet so different, it's frightening.
A spark is tolerable as long as it's contained.
He'll just have to keep the two of them contained.
Katniss lays her palm against the frigid cold glass. She rests her forehead against it for balance, her breath tickling the window, fogging it up and obscuring her vision. She watches the trees zip by, god knows how fast, her eyes straining because of the close proximity. She pulls away, taking her hand with her, the sweat from her nerves momentarily leaving behind a shadowy figure of it before it vanishes.
She collapses onto the way-too-comfortable-for-her-liking bed in a heap of anxiousness and stress, running her nimble fingers through her dark, chocolate-colored tresses frustratedly. Tears prick at her eyes as she dwells on the hopeless of her situation. She refuses to let them fall, because that would symbolize that all hope is gone. And all hope will never be gone as long as she has Prim, waiting for her at home.
"Katniss dear, it's dinner time." a shrill voice calls that can only belong to the one and only Effie Trinket. Katniss groans, flipping onto her stomach, she screams into a pillow. Though muffled, it still manages to sound loud and of a dying animal, shooing the Capitol airhead away. She listens to the sound of her ridiculous high heels click-clacking against the glossy hardwood floor of the train, getting quieter the farther and farther away she travels.
She makes up her mind, choosing to go stand up and enter into her bathroom to splash some water on her face. Katniss watches herself in the mirror as cool, stray droplets run down her face, falling into the white marble sink, each landing with a gracious tap. The water revives her, returning her from her sunken-eyed state, back into the stubborn teenager she should be. Her long locks spill around her, tumbling down to her waist. It had fallen out of the elaborate plaits her mother had done for her what feels like decades ago, when in reality, had only been but this morning. She decides to leave it down, not bothering to braid it over her shoulder in her usual fashion before exiting the compartment.
"Enjoy your nap, sweetheart?" the sarcastic voice of her fellow tribute, Haymitch asks, causing her to glower at him. She sits herself on the first seat she sees, grabbing a what looks to be, a nicely decorated cookie. Katniss hesitantly nibbles at it, flavor exploding her taste buds, before scarfing the rest down.
"Hungry?" he asks, Katniss practically sneers at him. For once he's not drunk, perhaps because he's a competitor in this wonderful game himself. If he wasn't, he'd probably be wasted at this very second, a major factor in District Twelve's shortage of victors.
"Yes," she says flatly. "And this surprises you?" Haymitch chuckles to himself, sliding some brisket onto his plate.
"You're not going to go down easy, are you sweetheart?" She shakes her head. "Good," he continues. "Maybe the two of us should team up, we'd last longer that way."
Katniss scoffs, "Me and you? A team? Yeah, something tells me that might not work out." Haymitch's dark grey eyes narrow into tiny slits as he glares at her, making Katniss feel slightly unnerved.
"Well girly, there are twenty-three of us who have already gone through this, and won. And you, you're the only amateur. I'd watch my back if I were you, because there's a glowing red target on it just waiting to be shot at." He grabs his plate of brisket, and then he's gone.
Well, Katnkss thinks bitterly, that went wonderfully.
Thanks for reading you guys, leave a review if you liked it, or even if you didn't like it, I'd like to hear what you have to say. Anyways thanks again. Also, I'm going to say this once last time, IF YOU DID NOT READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BEGINNING OF THE STORY READ IT NOW!
You guys are amazing,
-Tris :)