Song Suggestion: Milky Chance—"Stolen Dance"

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Birds of a Feather

The next morning Cato woke her up by pouring a box of pictures on her body.

She sprung up in terror, pulling her blanket to her chest and pressing her back into the headboard.

"What is this?" She asked, attempting to get control of the fear in her voice.

Prim picked up the nearest photograph. It was a kitchen, big and bright. It reminded her of Cato's kitchen, but it wasn't. The next one was a bathroom, nearly twice the size of Coral's, with in-laid mosaics, making a pattern of a flower on the floor. Every detail looked intricate and thought-out.

"A house?"

"Your house. The one I promised you," he said.

Prim's mouth opened and then closed. Her heart sunk.

"Is this…?" She couldn't finish.

"Yes," Cato said almost bored, but she sensed tenseness behind his façade, "As much as Brutus would like to believe otherwise, I'm aware of your customs. I've alerted the papers. Congratulations. You're engaged."

Cato walked towards the door.

"But—" It was all she was able to get out.

Cato twisted. All emotion was stripped from his face.

"It's important you pretend to be happy. It'd be easier on you if you started now."

She stared at the photographs all morning, wondering how the steps she took in her life lead her to this: two faulty marriage proposals. She could only hope her second marriage would be sabotaged as well.

One Week Later

Prim tried to breathe in and out slowly to calm her nerves. She brushed her hands down her dress, rubbing past the intricate teal beading of birds in flight on white silk. To please the Capitol, the stylist Cato hired tinged the tips of her hair teal to match her dress. It was just enough to show effort to fit into Capitol culture without being tacky.

"Ready or not, in we go" Cato pulled her hand in his and tucked her wrist under his arm.

They stood on the steps of District 2's great hall. Music thumped inside, muffled by the night. The air around them still bit with the chill of winter. Prim was beginning to believe it would always be winter.

Two men in pure white uniforms opened the door to reveal a gigantic room filled with hundreds of twirling couples. She was assaulted by colors and smells, all meant to be pleasing, but really overwhelming.

A man touched the side of his neck to activate his built-in microphone.

"Announcing Cato Carthage and the future Mrs. Carthage, Primrose Everdeen."

The room stopped spinning as the couples ceased their dancing. The music went out with a whisper to allow the sound of thunderous clapping to overtake the acoustics in the room. The clapping continued for a good five minutes, longer than for anyone else.

And that was expected. After all, the dance was in their honor, thrown by the capitol to celebrate the impending marriage of a legendary victor.

Prim had never seen such extravagance: thousands of multi-colored light cast hues around the room, a table to the side was laden with just as colorful food, alcohol floated everywhere.

"Just breathe," Cato whispered to her. Did he feel her tighten her grip in fear? Could he hear her pounding heart? She did, even over the clapping and the echoes in the room; she heard her heart thumping behind her ears so loud it blocked out any noise.

"You can do this," Cato encouraged, "Remember, many things can be overlooked and forgiven with a smile."

Her lips lifted in a bad-acting smile. It stretched tight against her face. She smiled so she wouldn't cry.

The clapping stopped, and the music started back up, but the crowd still stared at them as if they should be doing something more.

"In District 2, an engagement isn't cemented until the first dance in front of the community," Cato explained.

Prim looked up at him sharply, trying to hide her negative expression with a smile. She hissed under her breath.

"You never told me we'd have to dance."

"I didn't think you'd find it a problem. You danced fine before."

A camera zoomed close, the black lens focusing on her face. Several others hovered in various parts of the room, sucking in the images provided and projecting across Panem.

Yes, the whole country was going to be watching Primrose Everdeen's engagement to the Lion of District 2, an unlikeliest match, a spectacular worth seeing, causing cynics to sneer and romantics to sigh. It was the talk of the nation. It made Prim want to roll her eyes.

She wondered what her district thought, since she was so cut off from society. Did they believe the lies, could they see through her forced smile? She tried not to hope.

Besides, another problem was more immediate. Dancing in front of her friends in the Hob was one thing; dancing in front of the entirety of Panem was another, especially in heels. If she thought her heart pounded hard before, it now raced a marathon.

Oh God, she thought, whishing she could sink into the floor.

"Just let me lead," Cato gave a small bow to the crowd before gently leading Prim down the steps, giving her time to compensate for her lack of coordination with her heels.

She nearly stumbled once, but he held her tight enough to him that no one noticed her small slip. Or at least, she didn't think they noticed.

They walked past the crowd. She didn't recognize anyone, and she didn't expect to. She almost laughed while imagining her loved ones all dressed up in fancy clothes, attending a Capitol ball. Especially Rory, with a twirling beard and green hair. Out of all of them, Rory could pull it off.

She stopped thinking of her friends and family as soon as she started. It was too painful.

When they got to the center, he pushed her out, and after allowing her to make a small circle hand in hand, brought her in close. The lights went off, except for a spot light which stayed bright above them. She was grateful for it because the crowd became faceless and almost extinct. She could pretend it was just them alone. Cato and her.

As expected, Cato danced beautifully. He led her through the steps without a hitch. For once, she allowed him complete control, which was far easier than it should have been. She avoided his eyes the whole time. At the end, he tilted her backwards, and on the way up he captured her lips. It was quick and for the cameras, but his warmth lingered.

It's not real, she tried to convince herself, it's acting. But it felt very real. She wanted to brush her lips with her fingers, just to give them another feeling.

15 Minutes Later

Cato brought her over to the refreshment table. It took several minutes due to being stopped every two feet by someone wanting to congratulate them. Cato knew them all by name, introducing Prim as he went. Prim attempted to learn the names, but gave up after ten. After that, the faces and names blurred together. Her brain felt dizzy with the new information.

When they reached the refreshment table, Cato handed her his typical drink of choice—bourbon. The amber liquid burned her throat as it went down, and she resisted the desire to choke it back up. Warmth immediately flooded her veins. When she was done, Cato handed her a second, and she tipped back that one as well. The second went down smoother.

She'd need quite a bit to get through this night.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the little lion."

Cato stiffened.

Prim turned to find the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Auburn hair tumbled down her shoulders in curls, long enough they reached her waist line. Her green eyes sparkled along with her perfect, straight teeth, and her skin glowed like Mrs. Manniola's, except it made her look perfect instead of odd. Her bright red dress hugged curves in the shape of a wave. The front of her dress split, showing skin all the way down to her navel. She was so perfect she had to be fake, and her perfection showed she was a Capitol creature through and through.

The woman noticed Prim. "Primrose, is it? You're named after a plant, right? How ordinary and fitting."

Whoever she was, she didn't skip around contempt. Prim tried to not feel offended, but it was hard coming from someone so beautiful.

Compared to her, Prim's dress was out of a sewer, and it fell flat against miniscule curves. Prim couldn't help but feel dumpy.

Cato drank his entire glass in one gulp. After grimacing, he turned to the woman.

"Persephone," he tipped his empty glass towards her, with a grimace still on his face, "Play nice."

Even her name sounded exotic, Prim wanted to sigh.

"It's nice to see you've downgraded." The woman smirked. She wasn't looking at Prim anymore, as if she didn't exist, but she was talking about her, nonetheless. "How's the little brat?"

"Wonderful," Cato clipped out. His voice was an icy wind. For once it wasn't directed at her. "She adores Prim."

This caused a miniscule frown from the perfect creature, one so brief Prim wondered if she really saw it.

"Someone has to, right?"

"Many people do."

The compliment sounded strange coming out of Cato's mouth. It didn't sound like a lie; she just wasn't sure whether or not he included himself in his statement.

"Whatever," she waved it off with a flick of her wrist, "Congratulations on your engagement. Really, I'm happy you found someone of your caliber." She gave a brief flick of her eyes up and down Prim in distaste. "Birds of a feather, right?" She sniffed as if Prim stunk.

It was an insult, but Cato smiled. His right hand, the one with a tip of the finger missing, reached out and traced one of the teal beaded birds in flight.

"What do you say, my little bird of the same feather, are you ready for a change of company?"

Persephone's face looked as if she had just seen a cockroach, something foul she needed to squash. She turned and walked away before Cato could lead her away. When she disappeared into the crowds, Prim turned on Cato, a thousand questions in her mind.

"Was that your ex-girlfriend?"

Cato was silent for a moment, and she briefly thought he wasn't going to answer.

"No, we never dated."

"She acted like she knew you."

"In a way."

"Who is she then?"

He downed another glass full of bourbon. At the rate he was going, he wouldn't be able to walk to the car.

"Coral's mother."

After that, he didn't answer any more questions.