star-crossed
Annie's dress was long and lacy. Her spirits were bright. She thought she could want nothing more than a night full of dancing, music, and Finnick. The autumn air was warm and her dress matched it; strapless and loose. Her hair was long and natural, a single braid fashioned into a crown, which pinned a purple honeysuckle to her head.
Her feet were bare and her smile spanning ear to ear. Simple music began to play, a quiet symphony of sorts drafting through the screen the willow trees created.
Annie took quick steps down the grassy aisle, heading towards Finnick, who stood wearing simple clothes at the altar. Rose petals were already scattered across the lawn. Her bouquet consisted of a single poppy which she held in her left hand. She held it in such a way as to drop it at the end of the aisle. The music gradually came to a stop and Annie gradually ran up the two steps. She found herself a foot away from Finnick, who had a bright smile on his face. Their eyes met for a moment before Finnick averted his gaze and stared at the crowd.
It might have been the first time a young woman didn't scream upon meeting his eyes; of course, it was his marriage.
A man read something aloud from a book. "Do you, Annie Cresta, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" A moment of silence met the area. Annie took her time to ponder the question teasingly. She knew the answer, of course. The few people seated on the grass looked on, their eyes wide in wonderment.
"I do," Annie finally replied. The smile was clear on her face.
"You may now kiss the bride."
Their hands met, fingers became enlaced. They slowly leaned in and, after a moment, their lips met. Short bursts of applause came from the few watchers. Annie felt her soul practically melting. The moment she faced was the only time she had ever cried tears of joy. They embraced each other. Tears streamed down Annie's face.
When it was all over, they did what they loved most. They danced. Hand in hand, they stepped through the grassy patch. They tripped and laughed. They didn't look beautiful, they didn't look elegant. They didn't seem to be dancing at all. But to them, nothing could be more of a dance. They danced into the night, and everyone watched. They laughed with them. Johanna gave them her best wishes, as did Peeta.
But no one meant it more than Katniss did. Katniss seemed to be one of the only people who genuinely cared about the two star-crossed lovers.
keep holding on
Finnick's hand was securely latched onto Annie's for the first eight hours. "I'm too afraid of losing you," he whispered one night.
"I'm only afraid of what happens after the revolution," she retorted. It was their first disagreement. "Think about it. When the war is over, what will happen? If the Capitol wins, I don't know what to think. If the rebels win, then... I couldn't live with what we've done." Annie rolled over and fell back to sleep. Finnick's head stung with the feeling of rejection; something he'd never felt before.
In the cold night of their room in District Thirteen, everything seemed black-and-white. There was a single honeysuckle (the purple kind) in a glass of water on a provisional shelf. The room was too dark to see.
It didn't seem black-and-white; it seemed a single shade of brown dirt. There was no steady rock of the ocean to lull them to sleep like back in District Four. In fact, the only sounds were the faint cries of mockingjays. They were cries that pierced your ears, so full of pain that they broke you. You could tell that it wasn't real pain, but it was breaking nonetheless.
"Annie?"
"Hmm?"
"Just keep holding onto my hand and I promise, no one can ever hurt you, never ever."
Finnick was only partially right.
aftermath
It was the second time. The second time she saw someone die all because of her, the second time she cried without end.
"I guess Finnick didn't hold my hand long enough." Annie couldn't be fixed anymore. There was nothing left of her bright face, nothing remaining of what she thought was her whole life. "He said he would never leave me."
"Well, he lied." No one seemed to lend a comforting hand. Johanna sharpened a hatchet blade, barely listening to Annie. "Annie, darling, if you want someone to keep a promise, you should believe them when they make the promise in the first place."
"But-" Annie stopped protesting. "I told him everything. My whims, my greatest fears, my wonders... I told him that I was scared of the rebellion, scared of everything that would come."
"The rebellion is over, Annie. " No one said another word.
If it's over, then why does it play back in my mind, as vivid as it did when it wasn't over? Annie had no one to tell her secrets to, no one to ask questions to in the dark. No one to dance with. That was the worst thing. No one would be there to dance through the night with Annie.
The flower in the glass had wilted. A shriveled-up petal floated in the water. She didn't have the will to replace it.
There was another second time. The second time her 'district partner' had been decapitated by some sort of mutated monster. Ivory by the District Two boy, whose brute was anything but natural, and Finnick by a horrible, mutated, man-eating lizard. It had been too late for help once his calls reached the surface, everyone said. No one cradled Annie's fragile, broken heart.
remembrance and forgetting
Annie remembered dancing through the night at her wedding, she remembered the vibrant colors of the poppy and the honeysuckles. She tried to remember everything, but it hurt to remember it. Finnick was gone, and with it, her will to live was gone.
Soon enough, she forgot everything. At twenty-three, there was nothing more she wanted than to die. The only thing containing her was her growing belly and what would be the only thing left of Finnick.
a lonely finish to a race that wasn't lonely
"It's a boy!" Annie crowed the happiest thing she had said in eight months.
"What will you name him?" Enobaria asked.
Annie replied with her simple answer. "Calder. Calder Odair." Calder was a little boy with a bright smile and striking red hair. He loved to laugh and run around and talk. But most of all, he carried a family gene. He loved, above all, to dance. Annie adored her son. It was the one thing she loved that the Capitol hadn't slaughtered. "You had a father once," she liked to tell him. "But he went...somewhere, and he can't come back."
There was still an emptiness that she couldn't satisfy. No matter how she loved Calder, there was no one to call her his sugar cube and to tease about his tridents.
There was no twilight, no twinkling stars anymore. There were no warm days like the days in the autumn that they married. Annie saw only toxic rains, cold days, and bleak skies. There had been more bombs, making District Thirteen even more desolate. It seemed like war had torn the country, but this time beyond repair.
As Calder grew older, it grew more apparent that he wanted to be just like the father he never had. It also grew more apparent that Annie couldn't live like this. She wanted her handsome tridentarian, she wanted someone to call her his sugar cube.
Calder was two months old. Annie and Finnick had been married for a year. Annie was still thinking, this isn't fair. Finnick can't be gone. He's not gone forever. It isn't possible.
Annie remembered every second she had spent with him now. She replayed them over and over again. Brooding in a cold, dark corner, Annie didn't feel like her bright self anymore. She was nothing more than forlorn.
For Racheltwo; currently supernovas.
Prompts: You don't know how lovely you are; rose pedals; city lights; silhouettes. I covered most of them in the first chapter and tried not to lay them on too heavy.
Hope you enjoy this wreck of a fic (2115 words without A/Ns) and happy New Year!
