The sun was peeking over the horizon, unintentionally condemning all victors to the revival of their nightmares. From Victor's Village, it all felt distant. The sky, the colours, and even the faint breeze that made the heat bearable created a safe space that would be lost once the Reaping took place. In the town square, it would become a blazing day filled with people, cameras, and sentences to death. Nothing good would come from that day, except, maybe, the eventual survival of one of the twenty-four tributes.
During one of Johanna's regular calls months ago, Olive's resolve wavered at the realisation. Her friend was the only living District Seven female victor, which meant the Reaping was only a formality to her; Johanna would go back to the Games. It did not surprise Olive in the slightest that Johanna knew and shared her plan, though her heart shrunk at the thought. Johanna seemed odd lately, as if her primary worry wasn't herself or close friends, but District Seven's riots and the new victors.
The riots hadn't stopped in District Four either, much less dimmed. Days after the declaration of the Quarter Quell, the people refused to comply with the Capitol's demands and blocked the main point of trade. It had its own reprisals, but that didn't make the protestants falter. If the Peacekeepers pushed them, they pushed back ten times harder.
Nothing seemed to bother the Capitol for long since the Quarter Quell would proceed with no incidents. There were hardly three hours left until it was District Four's turn, and Olive spent half an hour staring through the window. The house was silent, just like the rest of Victor's Village, but she had an added uneasiness.
Finnick wasn't anywhere in sight.
Just as she got changed to go look for him at Mags's house, her eyes landed on a piece of paper that had fallen near the bed. It wasn't folded, letting her read the note just as soon as she picked it up. It was Finnick's, telling her he was about to go to the forest and would be back before the Reaping.
Before she knew what she was doing, she was outside, walking over to the tunnel that led to the hollow tree. The fence had been electrified for months, a rare occurrence since only a year ago. It rarely worked for a couple of hours a day. Ever since Katniss's and Peeta's Victor Tour, things had changed, though Olive couldn't tell if it would be for the better or worse. First the fence, then the riots, and finally the Quarter Quell. There was no positivism possible for their situation; one way or another, a war could break out.
The hollow tree was empty, and there were no signs of Finnick. It was probable that he was already on his way back to Victor's Village, but it was strange that they hadn't met midway. Although, as she tried to recall her way to the tree, Olive realised something. The Meadow, where her mother's and grandparents' graves were, was only a short ten-minute walk away from the tree.
Olive continued to walk, consumed by the thought of what would be waiting for them on the way back. She didn't want to say a hurried goodbye to her family, only to volunteer and have to apologise for an entire hour before she was taken to the televised game that would become her death. Annie and Theo would cry. Gianna would try to be strong. And who knew how their father would react? She, for one, didn't want to find out. She would rather have them remember her as she had been the day before, laughing and joking around while struggling to keep up with Finnick in a trident fight. Not the bloodied, or even unrecognisable, body that would be brought back from the Arena for them to mourn.
Her eyes landed on the Meadow, just a minute peaceful walk away from the tree she was standing next to. There was someone there, at the far end, crouched before the Cresta family's grave. Finnick laid a Fire Lily on the ground, keeping it in place with the help of some stones. The wind could blow as much as it wanted, but it wouldn't make the flower move. He stepped back, admiring the ground for a minute, while Olive tried to sneak up on him.
"Did you read my note?" He asked, turning to look at her just as she placed her hands on his waist.
"I did," she replied. "Did I ignore it and come here either way? I think you can tell."
"Nightmares?" Finnick placed an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close without letting their eyes lose sight of each other.
"You could say that." Olive nodded, detaching her eyes from his to acknowledge the flower on her mother's grave. "It was her favourite. When Annie was young, her hair was close to dark red, so she made the wedding dress look like a Fire Lily."
"I bet it must be beautiful," said Finnick. "Although it might not fit Annie that much right now."
"Yeah, I know." Olive chuckled softly. "But, well, she even prepared matching wedding outfits for Annie and me. When I tell you we were raised to do everything together, I mean everything."
"So, are we having our not-so-official wedding with her and Angel?" Finnick asked, causing Olive to stop in her tracks.
"Finnick, there'll be no wedding," she said softly, raising her eyes to meet his. "I'm going back to the Games … I won't survive. You should—"
"Don't." He stopped her. "Don't finish that, please. I can't. I won't move on from you. Alright? Don't even suggest it."
With a huff, Olive ran her fingers through her hair, probably dirtying it in the process, but she couldn't care less at that moment. "What do you suggest, then? Finnick, I'll die, alright? If you go with me, I'll try my best to make you come back alive, but there's no guarantee. I need to know you'll at least try to keep moving forward … Mourning the dead is OK, but losing track of your life for them isn't."
Finnick tugged the bottom of his shirt and fixed his collar, making Olive narrow her eyes at him. Not a second passed before he took her hands and guided her to the centre of the Meadow, in the centre of the blooming flowers, away from the graveyard. He cleared his throat and thought his words through before saying a word.
"If I have to mourn regardless, or if I die in the Arena, I want my last thought to be you. Not the Navin Cresta that I fell in love with before I even knew what that felt like, but the Olive Cresta that I'd give everything to hear her say yes to my question right now." He let out a soft laugh, watching her eyes watering as they widened. "From this day forth, even past the day of our deaths, I want to spend every minute with you. Liv, will you marry me?"
"Right now? In the Meadow, of all places?" She asked, trying to conceal the tears as her lips involuntarily grew into a loving smile. "God, what horrible timing you have."
"But…?"
Her smile widened, turning into a wide grin that made a very familiar feeling of warmth creep up from his chest to his hands and cheeks. "But my answer, right now and always, is yes. I will marry you, Finn."
"I love you." Despite his eagerness to kiss her, Finnick composed himself and caressed the back of her hands with his thumbs. His determination grew with every second until the idea of the Rebellion occupied his lasting hope for one day making the marriage official, not something improvised in the middle of the woods Olive so much loved. "I, Finnick Odair, take you, Olive Navin Cresta, as my wife from this day forth. Together or apart, we will always be united. One life, one purpose, one destiny."
"I, Olive Cresta, take you, Finnick Odair, as my husband from this day and forth. Our days left together might be short, but I promise to spend every second of them with you. To protect you, love you, and be by your side, even when reason tries to interfere. May death hear my vow, for I, today, vow to love you even after it does us apart." Olive stood on her toes and pulled Finnick down by his shirt. "You may kiss me."
The kiss was short-lived, but the silence was not. They stood in the middle of the Meadow, letting the flowers brush against their legs as they stared into each other's eyes with wide grins present on their faces. Time seemed meaningless, and the surroundings had blended together, but a faint warning bell coming from the town square let them know there was only an hour left until the Reaping began.
"We should go back," Finnick whispered, as if there was someone lurking in the shadows.
"Just one second," Olive said, turning her head to glance at her mother's and grandparents' graves. "I need to do one last thing."
Finnick nodded and walked over to the opposite side of the Meadow, waiting for her next to the path back home. He watched her crouch down in front of the graves, talking to the nothingness, only to receive the same silence as answers. Of course, he knew what Olive wanted, but he wouldn't let her thoughts become reality.
The rebellion would work. He would make sure she was taken to Thirteen, where Angel would guide the rest of the Cresta family with the refugees before Snow could ever get a hand on any of them. Sadly, Olive couldn't know any of that. Therefore, she was saying her goodbyes to the cold stone that marked where her mother's body had been buried.
"I'll see you again in a week or two," she promised. "Wait for me. We'll protect them together."
Olive dusted off her clothes, tidied her hair, and checked that her earring was in its place before the Reaping began. She was standing on the usual platform, only this time delimited by a red rope that only allowed the female victors to walk one way; the centre of the stage. Contrary to her, Piscia wore her usual extravagant dresses and a bright blue wig, though the escort didn't seem so happy about it anymore.
"Welcome to the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games," said Piscia with no enthusiasm at all, almost disdainfully. She moved her arms oddly, as if no longer following her own Capitol gestures, but mocking them. "And may the odds be ever in your favour."
The town square was silent. Not a single person clapped, nor showed their approval of the current situation in any way. Even if Peacekeepers forced people to act, Olive doubted anybody would do it.
"As always, the ladies first." Piscia gave every female victor an apologetic look as her hand twirled around in the ball. It took a minute of unnecessary but apparently forced, waiting for her to pull out a single paper and walk back to the podium. "And the female tribute from District Four is—" she unfolded the paper and read, "Mags Flanagan."
"I volunteer!" Olive stepped forward, not giving Annie enough time to react, let alone volunteer. "I volunteer as tribute."
"Olive," Annie mumbled, trying to stop her twin, but it was too late. Librae grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stay in the predetermined line. "No, no, no. Please! No!"
"Annie, I'm sorry," said Olive, sparing one last glance at her sister before turning to face the crowd where her family was, making her try her best to evade their gazes and pained looks.
"Alright …" Piscia took a second to compose herself and keep her voice from breaking. "Now for the men."
She did the same long motion, letting another minute pass between the silence of the town square and Annie's cries. Piscia took a paper, the first her fingers landed on, and yanked it away from the bottom of the glass ball. With uneven breaths, she unfolded it and announced the chosen name.
"Ron Stafford."
"I volunteer." Finnick left the victor's area and approached the podium, standing at Piscia's right side, while Olive stood at the left.
Not surprised by the volunteering, Piscia went on to announce the official tributes of Quell. However, as the time for the handshake came, the couple silently decided to riot in their own way. They let tears fall as they hugged, rocking each other in their arms as if two friends were trying to say goodbye, but didn't know exactly how to.
"I love you too," Olive whispered. "I didn't say it before."
"I knew without you having to tell me," he assured her, his hand raising to stroke her hair.
Panem's anthem had just ended when District Four's Head Peacekeeper ordered two Peacekeepers to drag Olive and Finnick into the Justice Building. There was a brief mention of a 'new procedure' and both newly branded tributes got on the train without their promised hour to say goodbye to their families. It didn't take off right away, as it usually did. Minutes passed before Piscia appeared through the doors, coming into the restaurant car with Ron, Mags, and Rhett, the assigned mentors for the Quarter Quell.
"What a blatant threat," murmured Olive, watching as Rhett and Ron looked out of the window while the train began moving, leaving District Four and their loved ones far behind.
"We better not cause much trouble," said Finnick with a side smile.
"Much?" repeated Olive. "A little is OK, then?"
"Yeah." Finnick nodded, his smile growing slightly. "A bit of trouble is always fun."
The day passed with no incidents. Not apparent anyway. Whatever Olive was being deprived of knowing had become general knowledge, at least between the victors and Piscia. Their continued side glances and the way they reacted to the Reaping Recapitulation gave them away. Instead of the devastating worry that she had expected to see, a much out-of-place determined look got gradually stronger. District Twelve's broadcast set them off, making Piscia go stiff and Mags clasp Ron's hand between hers. The salute that the district gave to Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark had become part of the riots a long time ago, enough reason to get everyone worried about the safety of the people, but Olive knew better than to assume that. If the salute had become a sign, something that could even cause Finnick to glance at her with concerned eyes, it was something to think about. Amid the Quarter Quell, her newfound quest hadn't become to survive but to figure out what was happening. And what bothered Olive the most was how dangerous would it have to be if nobody would tell her a thing, and attempted their best to hide it from her.
She lay in her assigned chamber's bed, watching the Recapitulation of District Twelve's Reaping all over again. There was something off. Only, she couldn't place it anywhere. Katniss hadn't volunteered, and neither did she need to. There was no District Twelve female victor alive apart from her. Peeta, on the contrary, had volunteered for Haymitch, though it didn't seem to be for any hidden reason that wasn't love in its purest form. The young victors, now branded as tributes once again after only a year of simulated freedom, had no idea what was going on, just like her.
Reason told her that an alliance with them would not be smart. The victors were fairly new and had no friends among the twenty-four victors chosen, but she couldn't forget the reapings. Volunteering for a loved one was rare in districts such as Twelve, and not only did Katniss volunteer for her little sister the year prior, but now Peeta did as well, his hopes no different from her own with Finnick. They wanted to keep their district partners, and the person they loved, alive. Get them to survive and get out of the Arena safe and sound.
It would be best to stand by and watch things unfold first. If Katniss was still as good at archery as she seemed, and Peeta as strong as he had shown during the ending battle, she would seriously consider trying to get in the girl's good graces and propose an alliance.
A subtle movement on her left made Olive scramble the sheets in search of the remote. Just as Panem's anthem played, her hand landed on it, hidden under her pillow, and turned off the television. Fortunately, the noise hadn't woken Finnick up. His eyes were closed and his eyebrows furrowed. As if he wanted to speak, his lips parted, though no sound came through. They closed in a matter of seconds, pressing against each other with such force that it almost made the outline of the lips disappear.
"Finnick," Olive said softly, placing her thumb between his eyebrows to massage his brow, while her other hand caressed his cheek. "It's OK, it's OK. I'm here, I got you. You'll be fine."
An invisible lightning bolt ran through Finnick's body, or so it seemed, as his eyes snapped open, and he sat up to control his surroundings. With his breathing quickening, and tears threatening to leave his eyes, he glanced at Olive. A heartbreaking silence settled, letting them stare at each other, not needing to exchange a word to know exactly why the other had an overwhelming distressed look on their face.
"It was just a nightmare," Finnick breathed out, a tear escaping his eye as he blinked, trying to calm himself down.
"More like a reminder," said Olive in a soft tone, wrapping her arms around his torso to bring him close.
Finnick accepted the gesture right away and buried his face in the collar of her pyjamas. With a trembling grasp, he kept himself sitting up without having to lean on Olive too much, though she assured him countless times that she didn't mind if he did. Words soon lost meaning, letting a new silence settle in the bedroom. A mixture of sniffs and uneven breaths that made Olive's heart sink. Only one thing came up in her mind, and though she had hardly tried it before, it had worked counted times before to calm Finnick or Annie during a panic attack.
Like he was her most precious treasure in the world, Olive placed soft and paused kisses on Finnick's hair as she stroked it, not needing to say a word to convey everything those little gestures could.