Disclaimer: title from Taylor Swift's The Great War. Suzanne Collins is the wonderful creator and owner of this world. I make no profit from this.

One

The three figures moved as silently as ghosts, even though they were in broad daylight. Katniss was busy getting her sister ready, watching out of the corner of her eye, in the mirror, how Prim played with the buttons of her shirt nervously. On the other side of their humble home, her father's cane clanged, breaking the silence. The tension was palpable in the air, even if Katniss wanted to avoid showing it. When she finished, she tucked the shirt into Prim's skirt and squeezed her shoulders to cheer her up, giving her a smile that hid her actual fear. Prim's name would be among the possible tributes for the Hunger Games for the first time, while Katniss was getting closer to escaping, as close as the brush of a hand in search of another that could lift her up.

"My girls," she suddenly heard from the doorway. "You look beautiful."

Prim smiled back at her father, but Katniss recognised the same fear behind his voice and the way he clung to his cane, anxiously. They were already prepared to go to the Reaping with their best clothes: Prim in an outfit that had belonged to Katniss, and her in her late mother's old dress that still was surprisingly soft considering the years that had passed since she had died. As her sister had gone ahead to step out of the house, she took the opportunity to extend her arm to her father and help him down the few front steps, even though he didn't really need it.

"She'll be fine," she murmured, as if she could convince herself that way.

One year. Just one more year and Katniss would be able to forget about the sleepless nights before the Reaping, the days of hunger and the tesserae that made her an easier target. However, Prim's nightmare had just begun, which would make it hers too even after she turned eighteen.

"Of course," her father agreed.

Katniss gave him a sideways look, before approaching her sister. His voice didn't show it, nor did his actions, but her father seemed tired. Just as the years had made Prim grow up, they had also passed for her father, painful as it was, especially after the accident in the mines. The scar on his cheek was sunken in and a grayish hue was beginning to dot his hair, the same shade as his gaze. Katniss had his eyes, his skin the colour of the olive, unlike her sister, who had inherited her mother's angelic appearance. Katniss remembered how different she had been, compared to the people of the Seam. She had to have loved her father very much to leave behind her family's apothecary and a better life, to start a family that, unfortunately, had been destroyed before it was supposed to. Katniss observed the gold in her sister's braided hair. She wished that afternoon would pass quickly. She wished she could keep her innocence for another year and not be like every other malnourished girl from the Seam, where everyone was so scarred by poverty that they seemed older, more defeated, children and adults alike.

Around them, other families walked the same path. They had to cross the entire town to reach the square. Katniss preferred watching the light filter through the trees, the birds singing, taking a dip in the lake when she could go to the meadow and it wasn't to hunt. The cement suffocated her and she would have liked the buildings if there were any traces from the unknown Panem left, the Panem from before the cruel Games that forced them to sacrifice dozens of innocent children every year. Almost no one remembered what the world was like before the despair of a majority for the enjoyment of a few.

"Then we'll celebrate with a nice dinner," she commented, whispering to Prim as she took her hand. "We have your goat cheese. Gale and I traded today's fish for real bread and I didn't sell all the strawberries to Madge."

"Will we have dessert?" Prim asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

Katniss felt her father smile slightly at them. Although hunting was illegal, the Peacekeepers were among her clients, as so was the mayor, since most of the products were in short supply. On days like this, they turned a blind eye even more.

Her father suddenly put his arms around them and in a low voice added:

"And then we can go out and see the stars."

They wouldn't go beyond the fence, because Prim was scared of it, but the surroundings of their house would do.

"Thanks, Dad," Prim said, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

Already in the square, the greetings were scarce beyond a few light head movements. The world trembled with anticipation, as did those present. When the place was filled to its capacity and the act began, Katniss had no choice but to focus on the stage they had set up in front of the Justice Building. In it were Mayor Undersee, Madge's father, and the only two winners in the entire history of District 12: Haymitch Abernathy and Michael Elwood. The latter, despite being only a bit older than Haymitch, was gaunt and pale. It had been of little use to become a winner if cancer continued to devour him little by little. Beside him, Haymitch sat down unsteadily. Everyone knew he was drunk day in day out, so it was no surprise.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

Effie Trinket's voice made her clench her mouth in disgust. Everything about her was strident: her voice, her hair, the garish color of her dress. She had such a contrast with the rest of those present she was even ridiculous.

"Ladies first."

Katniss sucked in a breath and gritted her teeth as the woman theatrically pulled out the chosen name, then smoothed the paper.

"Primrose Everdeen," she read, with a smile.

The name floated through the air until it hit Katniss with an invisible force that took her breath away. She didn't notice Prim move or her father trying to suppress a shriek, with no success. It was as if she had been awakened from a trance, or suddenly taken from one bad dream to another even worse. It was the most devastating scenario. It was impossible. Prim only had one chance and it had become true.

Her mind was keeping pace with the racing beat of her heart. However, being aware of the devastating silence that gripped her, the puzzled expression of her sister when she dared to look down... then she had nothing to ponder. She couldn't leave her. She wasn't going to leave her. Nausea rose in her throat, but she swallowed. She would die if she had to, she would die for her, but not Prim. Like an automaton, her lips parted and she spoke words that remained unknown in their district for decades, words she hadn't even considered in the few seconds that had passed:

"I volunteer!" The Peacekeepers were about to grab Prim by her arms to force her to move, and Katniss yelled louder, "I volunteer as a tribute!"

"No, Katniss!"

She barely glanced back, though she saw her father squeeze her sister tighter to keep her still. Prim tried to grab her several times without success so that she would not leave her, thanks to Gale and her father. Her shrieks were so piercing that Katniss's skin crawled up to the nape of her neck. As she walked not sure of what was pulling her towards the stage, the atmosphere suddenly became unbearable. She thought she detected a hint of desolation in the mayor's eyes, in Elwood's, as she walked up the stairs. Effie Trinket was the only one who smiled as she introduced Katniss, happily explaining that she must be little Prim's sister. There was no applause, as there was when other tributes volunteered in the other districts. Instead, most of the inhabitants of 12 raised their middle three fingers to their lips, then pointed at her by raising them. Katniss bristled again. It was an ancient gesture, a way of showing gratitude, admiration or saying goodbye to a loved one. Most of them might know her because of her father, or from her constant dealings, but she didn't think they particularly liked her. The gesture squeezed her throat so hard she was afraid she would cry right then and there, but Haymitch Abernathy decided it was time to stand out.

For no apparent reason, he put his arm around her shoulders and began to shout, without the need for a microphone:

"Yes! That's bravery!" Katniss tried to move slightly away from him, but she only managed to smell the foul alcohol on his breath even more. "She's braver than all of you!"

Then, he stumbled across the stage to point directly at the camera. Katniss wasn't sure if he was speaking to the people of 12, directly to the Capitol, or to whoever would see them. He took a wrong step after and ended up rolling on the ground, noisily. With the fright, some murmurs spread, but only Michael Elwood rushed to his rescue before the peacekeepers reacted. Katniss could barely blink: the situation was so surreal her mind refused to register it. Effie Trinket continued with the choice of the male tribute, someone named Alder, a chubby boy not much older than Prim, whom Katniss was thankful she didn't know personally. She didn't want to meet his eyes, just avoid him, though they were forced to shake hands as soon as they finished introducing him. His eyes were cold and trembling, almost cowering in fear. For her part, Katniss couldn't help but feel a cold sweat run through every part of her body and, looking at him for a moment, she recognised the same fear in his blue eyes. What had she done? Save her sister. She had to continue saving her, even if it meant taking the life of a boy like that. Or him in particular.

The next few minutes were spent in a cloud of incomprehension, denial, locked in the Palace of Justice, until the doors opened revealing her father and Prim. It was her who rushed at Katniss first, through tears she tried to suppress.

"You'll be fine," she murmured, still clinging to her neck. "You know how to hunt, run and swim. You can win."

Deep down, Katniss knew it wouldn't be possible. She might have been able to survive in 12, but at the Games there would be other volunteers, boys and girls trained by former victors, waiting for their moment of glory. They did not do it for their family, but to achieve fame or honour. But what honour was there on killing a person? Not to worry her more, Katniss leaned into Prim and hugged her tight, breathing in the scent of her hair. If this was going to be the last memory she had of her, she rather it would not be a painful one.

"Maybe," she whispered, since she didn't want her to notice she had already given up. She already had what she wanted. Prim would live, even if she would not there to see it.

"You have to try," she insisted, after a kiss on her cheek that almost made Katniss wonder if she would be able to leave her.

Before a Peacekeeper arrived to tell her the time for her farewell was running out, her father grabbed her with a desperation she had not expected from him.

"You're coming home." The conviction in his voice made it hard for her to meet his gaze, but she did it anyway. It was very likely that this was the last time they looked at each other, that they spoke. "I'm proud of you, Katniss. I know you can do it."

That she could do what? Survive? Become a murderer? There was no time for repproaches, so Katniss mustered all of her strength before hugging them once more.

"I love you. I love you both."

She felt her father's hand refusing to part, and Prim's eyes full of hope. When the officers appeared, Katniss tried to get one last look, her eyes cloudy as they left. To her surprise, she was then allowed to say goodbye to Gale and Madge, no doubt due to the influence of Madge's father. The first insisted on the same things as his father had: being able to hunt, her skills, how she had to strive to return. Madge handed her her favorite badge, a golden mockingjay she wore to the ceremony, the only thing they would let her have from 12 when she was in the stadium. It was too valuable to be wasted on someone like her, especially if she was going to die. Yet it was all she needed. She turned it over in her hands, observing the bird in detail. Suddenly, she thought it would remind her of the forest, of a friend, the only one she had besides Gale. And, above all, it would remind her of her father, what he had taught her, and the songs they had hummed so many times to the mockingjays to disperse into the air.

That day she would also fly away, but no one could take away the love and strength that she would carry in her chest.

Some time ago I thought about what could've happened if Katniss' father had lived instead of her mother, so this is the result. This fic is also a consequence of my love for minor ships like Katniss and Finnick. I adore both Everlark and Finnick with Annie, as well as the friendship between Katniss and Finnick, but these two as a couple is also a possibility I like to read and explore. An Everdair fic was the first thing I ever wrote so I'm going back to my beginnings. Also, this otp needs more recent fics.

If you are reading this as it is being published I wish you a happy new year! Thanks for reading, Julia :)