Song Suggestion: Daughter- Youth
Winds of Winter
Two Weeks Later
"It's my birthday!" Coral screamed and jumped on her belly.
Prim managed to hide her discomfort at getting woken up. She plastered a smile on her face for the girl's sake.
"Yes, it is, baby girl. Today is your day. We can do what you want."
For the next hour, they played "get well", her favorite game. Prim made it more constructive by trying to teach her some real first aid techniques. She even went as far as bringing her to the kitchen to make a fake poultice. They used different ingredients, but she said out loud the real ones for her mother's infection-reducing salve. Coral thought it was great fun, and after it was all made, they proceeded to slather it over each other and all over the kitchen.
"It's time for a bath!" Prim wiped off the goo from Coral's arms.
Prim made bubbles with soap, so many they threatened to overflow the giant claw foot tub. Prim kneeled and scrubbed the little girl. Coral had nannies to do these things, but she wanted Prim. It made something in Prim's heart swell with pride.
Prim smiled when Coral dipped her head in the bubbles, coming up with her mouth and throat coated with white foam.
"Look, I'm daddy when he not shave." She went down again, acting like a fish for a moment before popping back out. "He come to my party tonight. He promise me. He promise me ten times."
"Can you count to ten for me?"
She proceeded to list off the numbers on her soap-webbed fingers, getting stuck on number eight.
Coral adored her daddy. Prim didn't want her hopes raised. After he cornered her in the dining room, he left the next day, only giving a small pat on the girl's head before ripping her from his leg. He walked out without even a backwards glance. Prim consoled her for days.
He left two weeks ago, without even an indication of when he was coming back. If it wasn't for the little girl, Prim would have gone stark, raving mad. She was used to people and noise and fresh air. The mansion was just one large, gilded prison.
Tonight, Coral's fragile heart would be exposed to the sharp barbs of her father's indifference.
He better show up, Prim thought. She realized with a jolt that for the first time she wanted to see the blond victor.
Later That Night
It had been an hour. An hour past when he should have shown up. The food sat cold on the table. Pink streamers and purple confetti littered the room. Four candles melted down on the chocolate cake long ago. The balloons were still aired up, but the little girl sitting at the front of the table with a pointed rainbow-striped hat on, was deflated. With each minute that passed, her chin sank further into her chest.
Prim didn't have the heart to tell her to give up.
"Do you want to go outside?" Distraction was the only thing left in Prim's toolbox.
Coral eyes lifted. They gleamed in excitement. Then they deflated again.
"He gunna come when we gone."
"Then we'll come back in and surprise him."
"With a kiss!"
Prim snorted, muttering 'not likely' under her breath. Now that she thought of it, she never recalled Cato ever giving Coral a kiss. How pathetic! She barely remembered her own father, but she remembered his goodnight kisses.
"Come on, we can have a snowball fight!"
A fresh batch of powdered snow had fallen the night before, perfect for shaping into missiles.
"Daddy told me I not allowed outside without him."
"Exactly why we're going." Prim's heart overflowed with defiance so bright it would blind the sun.
Thirty Minutes Later
Prim found a window unlocked, which led to the outdoors. It was on the first floor, making getting in and out of the house with a four-year-old easier.
The snowballs, snow angles, and snowmen distracted the little girl for a little while. Prim taught her a District 12 game called "snow day". Prim breathed in the crisp air, rolling in the snow until her ears burnt and her nose dripped.
For an instant, she looked at the distant trees. Escape. Home. The first terrified her; the second filled her with a longing so intense the fear almost left. But common sense prevailed. Tiny snowflakes drifted from the sky, and she showed Coral how to stick out her tongue to catch them. Yes, the air was so cold her eyeballs felt frozen. No doubt if she took off now, her toes and fingers would follow. Soon she'd turn numb all over—that was when it was the most dangerous. When she was a child, a man from District 12 fell asleep in the snow. He lived, but his nose turned black, and they had to cut it off. It was a lesson learned early in life—mother nature won every time.
A sniffle killed the rest of her dreams of home. Someone needed her.
Prim hugged the little girl, pushing the bright red hair out of the way. Her cheeks were pink, chafing with the wet trails streaming down either side.
Coral put her mouth against her shoulder and cried. The cloth on her shoulder muffled it.
In complete silence, Prim brought the girl back inside. She drew a hot bath, scrubbed her, dressed her, and put her to bed.
Without even asking, she crawled into her bed and snuggled. She heard the da-dum of her heart racing until it slowed into a steady rhythm.
"Sweet dreams, baby girl. I'm here."
Later that Night
She woke suddenly in the night.
It took a few seconds to adjust before she realized a man stood over her. A scream almost made its way from her throat, but it caught and faded when she recognized him.
Cato held his hand out, inches above his daughter's hair. It hovered there as if unsure how to proceed.
"Don't you dare. Not after today," Prim warned. For the first time it sounded as strong as Katniss. Her heart thumped without her usual fear. In fact, she felt as if she could tear out his throat. She'd smile, too, like he did.
"Was she upset?"
"You're pathetic, you know. And you don't deserve her."
The darkness erased his facial features, so there was no way to read them. But his hand retracted.
"I know." He admitted once before exiting the room.
Prim was in so much shock at his admission it took a whole two hours of staring at the ceiling to go back to sleep.
The Next Day
Cato made her and Coral come to dinner the next day. Coral, in all her childlike forgiveness, still ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his legs.
Prim hadn't seen him all day. It was easy to stay separate in such a large space. Prim stayed on edge, not wanting to repeat the dining room incident. On the train, he warned of training. So far there had been neither. Prim didn't think Cato was a liar. What he promised her was coming. With each day that passed, the anticipation and dread built until she could barely stand it.
The dinner was silent. Prim was still furious at him. It seemed Cato was trying at conversation.
"How was your day?" He asked.
"Fine," Prim answered.
"Oh, it wonderful," Coral began, saying her new word for the day, putting her hands in the air for no reason. "Prim's so bewteful, isn't she daddy? She let me brush her hair. The snails were outside my window. They left slime. It was ew, gross—"
"What did you do?" Cato cut Coral off, mid-sentence.
"Nothing."
"We play tag, daddy, then we run through rooms, then we jump—"
"Are you actually going to answer any questions?" Cato cut Coral off again, glaring at Prim.
Prim shrugged.
The knuckles tightened around his knife, and his lips thinned into a sharp line.
"Daddy, we also—"
"Quiet Coral."
Coral sucked in a jagged breath and jumped from her seat. She slammed the door behind. Her pitter-pattering little feet could be heard slapping against the tile accompanied by cries. Prim waited until the little girl was out of earshot before she patted her mouth with a napkin.
"I've lost my appetite." Prim set down her fork and attempted to leave dinner.
"Don't leave."
Was that a demand? She thought so, but his voice had been unusually soft when he said it.
Cato wasn't looking at her; he was staring off into the mountains again. He sighed.
Prim warily sat back down.
"Coral seems to like you."
"How would you know? You're never around." Prim would never dream of talking to Cato so harshly, but something about Coral made her fighting mad. Prim couldn't stomach watching her sparkle die so many times. It's amazing she has any sparkle left.
Instead of snapping back, Cato leaned over, pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Then he ran a hand through his hair.
"Look, I know I'm not the… best father."
"Understatement."
"But I'm trying my—"
"Don't even say best. If that's your best, I'd hate to see your worst."
Cato hurled his knife, hitting the window. The glass exploded, leaving shards scattered all around them like confetti. Prim startled and began shaking. Her heart went to her throat. She bunched the tablecloth beneath her fingers, trying to ground herself. The bitter cold seeped through, and little snow flurries whistled past the jagged glass shards.
Cato folded down again, placing his head in his hands.
"What do you propose I do?"
Prim couldn't believe he was asking her for advice. She never thought in a million years she would be telling Cato Carthage how to parent. As always, when it came to Coral, her filters were off. Prim braved the lion.
"Love her, jackass. Kiss her, read her a story, spend time, play games. It's not hard. Coral makes it easy."
"Too easy," he copied, "She's too soft. I have to teach her—"
"Teach her what?" She tilted her head. "To be like you? Please don't"
He looked up from his hands and gave a cold glare.
"I get it, you hate me."
"No, I loathe you."
Prim had never seen him so raw. His fury was always so contained. His body language so hard to read. But after that comment, his face closed up again.
"Are you mad at me from last night? I couldn't help it. I had to be somewhere else."
"Oh, I'm mad at you for more things than that. But yes, that was pretty low, even for you. Besides, why are you trying to justify your actions to me?"
He tilted his head, as if considering. His words sounded measured and slow.
"I'm not sure."
The room grew silent for a long moment. They stared at each other. Prim sat on edge, trying to guess his next move.
"You're training starts tomorrow. You're coming with me."
"Do you mind if I ask you what I'm training for?"
"Yes, I do. You'll know when you need to know."
Prim pushed her hands along her thighs, trying to hold back her anger.
"Anything else?"
Cato looked as if he wanted to say more.
"No… you can go."
Prim shot up. Her legs had been prepared to flee the entire time. She pushed her chair in, trying to ignore the bitter winds biting into her skin.
She walked to the door, pulling on the handle.
"Wait."
Prim looked back to find Cato was on his feet.
"I've changed my mind."
He strode across the room with purpose. When he reached her, he gripped her behind the neck and pulled her suddenly forward. Prim could do nothing but go with the force. Their lips connected. Prim put her hands on his chest to push him away, but he just grabbed one of her hands and interlaced them. He stepped forward, making Prim take an uncoordinated step backward. She placed a hand behind her to touch the wall for balance.
His lips released hers with a pop and his lips trailed down her neck. Prim squirmed with the sensations.
"I hate you." It came out breathy and uneven.
"I don't care. You're here. You're mine… Coral is right, you're beautiful." He smirked against her neck. His hands traced the outline of her body.
His lips went up to her ear, and he gripped both sides of her face. Just like every other time he cornered her, there was nowhere else to go. He was too imposing. He filled every available space and sucked the oxygen from the room.
"If I would have known you'd turn out so pretty, I would have taken you the first time. Hid you away until you came of age. You would've had more time to get used to the inevitable, not running after some slum rat. By the time I got around to fucking you, you'd have begged me."
Yeah right! His words disturbed her, sending a tingle across her body. He needs some serious mental help.
"I still have rights. You can't do this."
"Oh, really. Tell me about them. In fact, tell me no."
He pushed his hand up between her legs in a slow, agonizing crawl. The tingle enveloped her.
"I've never…" she said before he reached his destination. " I haven't…"
The hand dropped away.
Her entire body erupted in panicked goosebumps. She was afraid, but not with her usual fear. She was afraid of herself, of her reactions to his touch.
"Today I'll let you escape again. But we can't evade it forever. There would be dire consequences."
"W—why?" Her voice shook and she felt a few tears on her face. "Why do you have to do this?"
His hand reached up and twirled itself around a loose strand of her hair.
"I wouldn't expect you to understand, but it's imperative you realize there's no going back for either of us. You can blame your dear sister, if you must. She tried to save you, but she damned you."
"I thought you hated me!"
"Oh, at one point, I wanted nothing more than to run you through with a sword. You were a little leech, destroying my victory, and I was forced to provide for you. Had to pretend for the Quarter Quell that I cared. I just never thought…" His eyes darkened. "Damn it, you don't even see it, do you?"
"See what?" She pushed her legs together as tight as she could in reaction to his stare.
"You're just too damn clueless. Too damn vulnerable. You were supposed to be a chore, a distraction, and then I could get rid of you. I just never thought…"
Could he just spit it out? She was tired of him walking around the answer.
"Never thought what?" Her fists went clenched by her side.
"I never thought I'd want you."
His lips smashed into her, hard, possessing. It was brief, almost as if he couldn't contain himself.
"Fuck," he whispered against her lips. "You taste as sweet as I thought you would."
His hands once again gripped the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair. He pulled back just enough to glare at her, forcing her to look up at him.
"When I found out you were going to marry that fucking slum rat, after I already told you that you belonged to—"
"Gale's not a slum rat. I love him!"
The look he gave her reminded her of the ones he tossed around during the games, like he was a second away from breaking her neck.
Then he smirked and backed away, fingers detangling from her hair.
"Oh, how tragic. I see now how you favor your sister. She always loved the doomed too."
A shot of something cold went through her.
"What do you mean?"
"Little bird," he drawled, "the slum rat is dead."