Song Suggestion: Banks- "Waiting Game"
A/N: So I recently discovered there is a celebrity with the name Ruby Rose, and my God, it is a perfect fit. I swear I did not mean to do it. It's wild that she fit up near perfectly with the character I had in my head, tattoos and all.
Cemented Lies
Time passed quickly, too fast to hold it still. She found herself soon enough on the couch in her quarters, crowded between Brutus on one side and Effie on the other. It somehow felt like being squished by a prickly flower and a boulder.
They waited for the television to come on, for Caesar's face to float on the screen and give the audience the tributes' scores.
Effie fidgeted with a napkin in her lap, unlike her normal poised etiquette.
"Oh, I do wish they would get on with it," she sighed, "my dress will wrinkle if I stay in this position to long."
She knew Brutus rolled his eyes even without looking at him.
"If you'd just tell us how it went, the wait wouldn't seem so long," Brutus said.
He was peeved that she did not discuss with him what happened in the score room.
After her performance, she was confident, riding off a high of defiance. But with every step towards her room, it slipped, until she almost crumpled to her knees with anxiety.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Yes, the head Gamemaker smiled at her, but it was half a second and it could have been a muscle reflex. Besides that, the tight-skinned man seemed to hate her just as much as she instantly hated him. By the time she reached the elevator, she was sure she was going to die. They would give her a two, and she wouldn't receive any sponsors.
Brutus attempted to get information from her, but she couldn't bear her shame.
Time since that point became a rubber band, at some points jumping forward at a break neck pace. At others, it snapped back to its original position of unending anxiety.
When the scoring started, it still managed to surprise her. Caesar's face popped onto the screen, purple hair emblazoned against a stark white background. His eyes glowed yellow like a cat's in the night, the newest Capitol trend. As usual, he gave a brief synopsis of the scoring system, a ranking from 1 to 12. Her palms began to sweat before he called out the first score.
"District 1," the whole room seemed to suck in a breath, "Jacen Hartline with a score of a Ten. " A bright number ten floated above Jacen's smiling face, the pit of his eye wiggling, seeming to wink. If the other competitors didn't know it already, and they did, he would be a menace in the arena. A killer without mercy.
His district mate, Ruby Rose, came next. The rose tattoo on her cheek looked so realistic, Prim imagined she could reach out and prick her finger on the sharp thorns. A number eight soon followed.
So, she wasn't completely helpless, despite being reaped without warning from her district. In fact, she may turn into a threat. Prim would have to be careful not to get in her way in the arena.
When Cato's face flashed on the screen, Prim's whole body lurched forward in anticipation. Even Brutus straightened in his seat.
"Cato Carthage with a score of a," he gave a brief pause, looking down at the card in front of him twice, as if in confusion. Finally, he looked back into the camera lens and finished. "One?"
The entire room stopped in silence, rotating and rotating, until the shock wore off. Brutus was on his feet.
"Hell," Brutus said, "what did the boy do to piss off the system?"
Cato got a one. Prim's mind could barely comprehend the number. Just like the number twelve, the number one was rarely given. Prim had only heard rumors of it, given only a few times: once to a boy with mental retardation and another time to an eighteen-year-old with no legs.
But Cato had both his mind and his body. The score was such an obvious absurdity it could only mean one thing…
A death sentence.
The Gamemakers wanted Cato to die. It was the only way she could see it, and they were making it known to the public. Prim sat in shock, refusing to let herself feel.
I can't care about him, she told herself over and over again. I can't
But she did, and she failed at protecting her heart.
Snow was behind this. There was no way he was going to let Cato walk out of the arena, not a third time. The first was luck, the second a miracle, the third would be rebellion.
So overwhelmed was she that she completely missed Theodora's score. If she could guess, it would be high.
From there, the progression of tributes flashed back and forth, the number continually going up and down. The poor old man standing next to her in the training room received a surprising number of six, leading Prim to understand that old or not, the man was still a trained killer.
Before she knew it, it was District 12's turn. Her stomach turned to acid, the worry so great she had to lean forward and rest her elbows on her legs. She made a low keening sound at the back of her throat.
Brutus looked at her oddly before his eyebrows furrowed.
"What did you do girl?" His voice low and dangerous. "What stupid thing have you done?"
Prim was unable to answer or look at him in her shame. What could she say?
I've made enemies with some of the Gamemakers already?
I'm being manipulated by the head Gamemaker in ways I don't understand?
I wasn't impressive enough, not like Katniss?
They would all be true.
"Gale Hawethrone?" Caesar said. "With a score of a seven."
She heard Gale exhale sharply. Brutus reached over and slapped him on the shoulder.
"Not bad kid, not bad. Not high enough for a target, not low enough for prey. We can work with it…"
Brutus trailed off as Prim's face flashed on the television. Prim allowed herself a brief glance, long enough to see herself staring back. She looked young, immature… scared.
"Primrose Everdeen," Caesar said and looked down at his notes, "With a score of a…"
He stopped and glanced at his notes again, like he did with Cato, as if he was surprised. He glanced back at the screen with a sly smile.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it seems that apples truly don't fall far from the tree. Primrose Everdeen, with a score of," he paused, "an eleven."
Gale pumped one fist in the air and hollered. Effie gasped behind her hand with a smile she couldn't conceal. Prim imagined the streets of Panem and District 12 erupting with the intrigue.
But Brutus didn't celebrate. He looked long and hard at her, keeping their eyes locked.
"What have you done girl," he reiterated, "What have you done?"
It wasn't until later that night that she could interpret his stare as grief.
The Next Morning
Prim woke up the next morning already in a nervous sweat. Today was the worst day: the interviews.
It was silly, she knew this, to be more afraid of this than the thought of walking into the arena, but she couldn't help it. She hated attention; she hated crowds. The thought of millions of eyes trained on her at once with no safety net to catch her made her ill.
"God damn, girl," Brutus said at breakfast, "pay attention. This is important."
He was trying to dole out advice. He'd been on stage numerous times in his career as a victor, and he didn't seem to have sympathy for her anxiety. He kept talking, but all she could her was the whoosh of her heart beating into her ears.
Brutus gave up after an hour, "You're on your own, little girl. Just remember not to show them anything you're not. Even if you lie, interweave it with enough truth to cement it." It looked as if he wanted to say more, but he left before she could determine the odd gleam in his eye. It was either grief or guilt, and neither made her feel better.
Cinna once again outfitted her in a plain grey dress. It was more formal than her other one, in the shape of a ball gown, and made of a luxurious silk that brushed against the floor, even with shoes.
Prim balanced on the high-heels as the swished back and forth in the mirror. If it wasn't for the drab color, Prim would think it beautiful. Instead, it reminded her of a something she'd wear to a funeral, which might be the intent the more she thought about it.
Cinna must have something up his sleeve. He never failed to deliver entertainment and today would be no different, she was sure of it. But not knowing what to expect, left a negative taste in her mouth.
What is your angle, Cinna? She wanted to ask him.
It was no use thinking of it, though, for in the next moment an Avox appeared at the door, silent and brooding. She didn't need words to tell her it was time for the show.
Prim barely remembered the elevator ride down, nor did she notice any of her competitors as they waited behind the curtains. She was too focused on her breathing patterns, in out in out, and trying to get her mind from disjointing from her body. The most primal part of her brain took over, almost allowing her to collapse into a puddle on the floor.
She braced a hand against the wall, waiting for the iron to strike.
"I'm not going to let you lie," a familiar cold voice whispered into her ear, pulling from her terror, rescuing her from her mind.
"I'm not lying."
"Hmm," Cato hummed his disapproval. The sound vibrated against her hair, making the follicles on the back of her neck and arms rise with the sensation. His body lined itself up against her back, his muscles turning and flexing with each breath.
"Cato Carthage." A lady with a clipboard called out his name. Prim could see Ruby Rose on stage through a curtain. An avox made a motion for Cato to get into position to step onto the stage when the time was right.
He didn't respond right away. Instead, he dipped his head and softly rubbed his lips against her neck.
God, that felt good. She closed her eyes with the sensation, forgetting the crowd of people around her.
Where was Gale? Where was Brutus? Usually, she wouldn't want their saving, but at the moment she was afraid she did not have the courage or the strength to pull away.
She opened her eyes with effort. Most of the competitors stared at them. She could sense their thoughts from here: they questioned, they judged, they analyzed.
Is the Lamb a weakness for the Lion?
Prim suspected she was, as much as she wished she wasn't.
"They called your name." She tried to remind him.
"I'm tired of obeying."
"Go, please."
"I've always liked it when you beg."
He wasn't touching her anymore, put the ghost of his hand passed over the skin of her arm, as if she was an art piece drying and he didn't want to smear it.
"Listen to the girl, Cato," Gale's voice said from behind them. It contained a controlled fury.
Cato's body clenched, a predator focusing on a new prey.
"Didn't anybody teach you manners, slum rat? It's rude to interrupt other people's conversations."
"I don't see a mutual conversation. All I see is harassment."
"Cato Carthage," The lady said again, this time with more force. Cato pulled back.
Severed of contact, Prim was able to breathe and move again. She turned just in time to see Cato make a face. She couldn't determine if it was at Gale or at his name. Their eyes met, and he searched hers for a moment.
"I won't lie, little bird. Not about this. If I do, then we lose anyway. There's no point."
"What are you talking about?"
"Cato…" Prim started unsure how to explain herself. "I'm not lying either."
"We'll see." A marked determination shuttered his expressions. "Until then, just remember, that Snow doesn't want either of us to succeed."
"What's your angle?" Prim said as coldness seeped into her chest, "What are you going to say, Cato?"
He brushed passed her without answering, and it only caused her heart to pound harder.
"What are you going to say?"
She tried to grab his arm to stop him, but he brushed it off as went up to the stage.
He stopped right before the curtain before turning and glancing at her just once.
"What you refuse to remember."
He turned back around and walked the path to the screaming crowd.
Moments Later
Prim watched as Cato walked to the seat awaiting him. He did not smile at the crowd, nor did he acknowledge them. He was stone as he walked, something not human, not even living. The force of his presence crushed as it went, until the screams died down. By the time he sat down, the screams had turned into a living silence, thick with tension.
Even the unflappable Caesar seemed taken aback. He swallowed hard once before he regained himself and gave a high-voltage smile.
"Cato Carthage, ever the brute I see," He gave an affable laugh.
Cato responded with a tight glare.
"So everyone's been dying to know—"
"I'm not here to discuss unimportant shit," Cato interrupted him like a gunshot, "Actually, I refuse to talk at all."
Caesar gave a nervous laugh, looking at the crowd.
"And that's why we love him, because he scares even us."
The audience laughed on cue, but from the undercurrents, Prim could see that Caesar was wrong: Panem did not love him. However, they did seem scared of him. And though he tried to spin it in a positive manner, it was not a good thing to scare the people of Panem.
"So," Caesar began again, trying to keep the interview upbeat, "you don't like talking, we can see that. Do you like telepathic communication better instead?"
Laughter ensued, which only caused Cato's scowl to deepen. Prim was unsure of his motive. Was this why he got a one? Did he refuse to participate? If so, Prim wasn't sure how long he could continue living, if he didn't play the game.
"I won't talk, but I will show you," the screen behind Caesar and Cato began to flicker to life, "My side of the story. That is what you're after, isn't it?"
The question wasn't answered as a video began playing on the large screen behind their heads.
"Fuck," whispered Prim.
An Anxious Breath Later
It was clever editing, Prim thought, as the images flicked by. The video compiled every positive image of her time at Cato's. There she was snuggling little Coral. And that was the time he kissed her unsuspecting. Prim was shocked by the way her head leaned into the kiss as well, the way her hands snaked behind his head and pulled him closer, even though her mind had warped it that he had kissed her without her wanting it.
She enjoyed it, even when she didn't want to.
The sight of Coral again, after so long apart, tore at her soul. Her little heart shaped face turned up so trusting. The way she would ask for Eskimo kisses every night before bed.
This was Cato's intent: to show the world that Prim made a home. She had a daughter, an intended, and she was torn from it.
The engagement ring gleamed on screen, flashing bright in the sunlight as Cato slipped it on her finger. Prim wondered how Cato managed to get footage on top of a mountain, before she realized that he must have planned this all in advance.
Did he know they would be sucked into the games? Did he suspect he would need proof that an actual relationship grew under the cold winds of the mountain cabin?
Most of the footage whooshed by, quick glimpses, hurried shots. But the last scene stood still, and Prim sucked in her breath.
She had never seen this before. She couldn't have because she was asleep.
They lay in bed, thankfully with clothes on. Prim was unsure of the place on the timeline. Their arms and legs tangled together as they slept. They cuddled in sleep often, seeking warmth from the only nearby body from the chill of the night.
Cato slowly traced the shape of her face, gazing at her, a man transfixed, as if all her flaws were his perfection. He ended at her mouth, and as if he couldn't stop himself, leaned down and placed a feather light kiss to her lips.
"I love you," he whispered.
The video cut off, sucking her back to reality. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she looked at Cato. He stared back at her, ignoring Caesar and the crowd, many of whom were crying pathetically, as if they just witnessed the best love story. In the end, Cato didn't need to say a thing to win back the Capitol's love and undercut all she had attempted to present.
"Is there anything you'd like to comment on about this touching video," Caesar held a tissue in his hand and dabbed at the corner of his eye.
Cato's face became hard and his blue eyes pierced Prim.
"It's the truth."
Thirty Seconds Later
The crowd went wild as he walked off the stage. He exited a separate way from the way he entered, so Prim did not see him as he disappeared behind a curtain.
The truth.
The truth.
The truth.
I love you.
Was it true? Cato's view of the world was rosy indeed. He managed to find the best, while erasing the fights and tears. Did he not remember how miserable she had been, especially at the beginning?
But that last scene…
It felt real, a shiny nugget of gold among a glittering mess of lies.
Did he really love her? He had said once before, when they faced death, but she had never had enough time to analyze it deeply. He had begged things from her, but rarely gave anything back.
"Don't let him mess with your head," Gale said beside her, "I don't know what type of manipulation you've put up with, but nothing true can come from that monster."
Maybe he was a monster, Prim reasoned, and maybe he was a liar.
But this time, Prim believed Cato Carthage.
Two Hours Later
"Primrose Everdeen," a voice called. Her feet responded for her and she ended at a small flight of stairs that led up to the stage. The male tribute from district 11 boomed with laughter on stage as she peeked through the curtains.
"You'll be on in exactly two minutes," the lady with a clipboard told her.
In some ways, Cato did her a favor. Her heart no longer beat hard in her chest. Her feelings that were once so focused on anxiety found a distraction, freeing her body to go through the motions without freezing up.
She sat there until the lady held up three fingers, slowly lowering down each one. After all were gone, she gave a curt, "go," and Prim stepped up the stairs, curling her fingers into the rich fabric of her grey dress.
The crowd nearly jumped over the other guests as she entered, so excited to finally see her. She was still the darling of the games, the one they adored, the one wrapped up in two intriguing love stories. By their reaction, Prim was sure Snow would do whatever possible to delay her death until the very end.
As much as humanity loved a happy ending, they loved a cathartic tragedy even more. She'd be played like a fiddle to her grave if she wasn't careful.
Caesar stood and held his hand outstretched with a warm smile. His eyes still glowed like a Panther in the night.
"Dearest Primrose Everdeen," he boomed and took her hand, "You look divine."
"Thank you," she answered and gave a little blush. She didn't mean to do it, but it must have been the right move for the energy in the room increased.
He led her over to the seat. The puffy dress billowed around her as she sat, feet barely touching the ground, making her look childish. That was a good route to go with this crowd, Brutus told her: innocence.
Caesar did not allow silence much to her relief.
"You have a very tragic history, Miss Everdeen," Caesar reached out and gripped her hand in what she assumed was a comforting gesture, "Saved by your sister, loved by your childhood sweetheart, only to be ripped away from all you loved by the lion of district two."
Prim nodded, allowing a tremble of her lip.
"Yes, it is true."
"It must be very hard and very confusing, but I am not alone in wondering if what Cato showed us was true. Did the lion fall in love? Were the feelings returned?"
Even without Cato's videos these questions would be presented. Brutus trained her in the response. She sat at a crossroads now: she could go along with what she was coached with, or she could follow her heart, the one that beat for Cato.
The consequences would be dire either way, but it only took a few breaths for Prim to understand what was at stake with the truth. Their entire story would unravel, a ball of twine with a nasty surprise for the center. Prim wasn't quite sure who she wanted to make it out of the arena, but she didn't want Cato to die, nor did she want Gale to perish either. To do that she had to stay alive until the end. To survive until the end, she must play the game the way Snow wanted her to.
"I'm sorry to say that the feelings were not returned. Any type of affection was only produced for survival. Cato's videos are the first I heard of his supposed love for me. And I find it hard to believe as true."
Caesar patted her hand.
"Tragic, indeed, let us hope you find justice in the arena."
"Before I go, would you like to see my dress? I must admit it is hard to sit in it, and I would love to stand."
Brutus coached her in this as well, giving step-by-step instructions.
Caesar jumped at the change in topic. He played the sympathetic listener well, but he shined with the irreverent.
"Yes, yes, we are all anxious to see another Cinna creation."
Prim stood and stepped a few feet from the chair and gave a sudden twirl. Her dress lit on fire, the flames consuming the drab dress, the funeral garb, to reveal stark white underneath. When the flames extinguished she was left with a white silk dress, gracefully swishing against the floor. A multitude of diamonds sewn into the bodice glittered under the bright lights, and Prim could only wonder at the beauty.
The crowd gave gasps of surprise, and ahhs and ohhs of appreciation.
It took Prim all of two seconds to understand Cinna's angle, what he planned.
She wore a wedding dress.
"You see," Prim said, "the night Cato kidnapped me, I was about to get married to my one true love, Gale Hawthorne."
The crowd gasped with the outrage, the tragedy. Cato walked out a hero, but he was now in the dirt. She hated to put him there, but she must to save his life.
Cement the lie with the truth.
She did the right thing, but why then did her heart clench in her chest?
One Minute Later
The anxiety returned as she walked off stage. She leaned against the wall as soon as she got behind the curtain, her heartbeat the only thing she heard for a good full two minutes. In that time, Gale took her position on stage, already in his seat and talking to Caesar.
He was handsome; she could not deny that, with his dark hair and steel eyes. The girls in the front row fluttered their eyelashes and clutched their heart as if swooning. In some ways, he was prettier than Cato.
Somewhere in her heart was the little girl that loved him. Most of it had been crushed and rearranged and molded to match Cato's, but a sliver stayed behind that admired the way he brushed the stray hair from his brow, the way his lips went lopsided with a smile.
He charmed the Capitol in a way that Cato could not, and in a deliberate way that she could not. He was different from his youth. The boy Katniss knew would not be at home with lies and smiles, but tragedy and the toll of life brought him to this point, and he raised himself to the challenge.
She missed most of his speech, but her heart calmed enough where she could focus on his last remarks. He told the story of how after Katniss died, he took over taking care of Prim on a daily basis, did everything to make sure she was happy and safe. Overtime, they fell in love. He wove the story so beautifully; she almost believed it as well.
"Until Cato came and destroyed everything." Gale said with a frown on his face, "He stole her. He forced her… he's a monster."
"You can finally get revenge in the arena," Caesar consoled.
"Yes, yes I will, because I have something more to fight for than the girl I love."
Caesar's eyebrows came together.
"I do not understand."
"Cato tried to keep us apart. For the most part, he was successful. But, you see, he was not entirely victorious. He made the mistake of returning to district 12. She escaped his clutches for a few moments, not long, but it was just enough time."
"Just enough time for what?"
"I still don't know who it belongs to? But it doesn't matter because I'll fight for both their lives."
"I'm afraid your train of thought needs clarity."
Gale stopped with gravity and turned to face the audience.
"Primrose Everdeen is pregnant."
A/N: The angle of the characters in the interviews is similar to the second book. I started writing it a different way to be original, but it didn't fit, and the story and characters demanded it this way. The more I thought on it, the more I liked it. In some ways, it is parallel to what Katniss would have experienced if she had lived. It's fitting since Prim is trying to fill her sister's shoes.