NOTES:
I'm not sure it matters (it definitely does), but when imagining the character of Caius Snow, I picture him as Tom Blyth in TBOSAS. I mean... it had to be done. (Tom Blyth, you will always be famous.) Since Caius is Snow's grandson, I think it makes a lot of sense for them to look alike. Plus, like most, after watching the movie, I'm kind of (really) obsessed with Tom, so when planning and writing this character, he seemed to be on my mind, and I'm not mad about it. I think he fits the part perfectly lol.
"She was darkness and he was darkness and there had never been anything before this time."
- Margaret Mitchell
IN THE ROSE GARDEN
It hadn't taken long for Nell to track down Caius, and the way in which she beckoned him with her eyes from across the crowded room made her intentions clear.
She disappeared through one of the halls' exits, and he shortly followed suit. As she walked a fair distance ahead of him, he watched her elegant stride towards the back courtyard of the palace with nothing short of admiration as he did his best to keep up with her while avoiding stepping on the long train of her otherwise too short dress.
Once she was outside and far enough away from anybody who might care to listen, she turned to face him.
The moonlight danced across her delicate features, highlighting the contrasting light and dark green flecks in her eyes. Beyond the captivating way in which they held his attention, he could see the pain behind them, but he couldn't deny that she was still breathtaking—even when looking utterly devastated. Perhaps devastation suited her?
"You look beautiful."
His voice is soft, and she almost couldn't hear him, but as his words register, she shakes her head as if to clear her mind of the haze his compliments always seemed to bring her. "I always do."
"Very true." Caius's lip twitches as he fights the urge to crack a smile. "What has you so worked up?"
You.
How could he possibly stand here before her and act as though he doesn't understand?
Maybe this was a good sign that the whole thing was some grand misunderstanding? Maybe there was still hope that it wasn't true.
"Virgilia Ravinstill."
Even saying her name felt like a betrayal to herself.
This wasn't normal. People like her were not envious of people like Virgilia. And men like Caius shouldn't not marry women like that. None of this made any sense.
As realization sets in, Caius's face falls, his eyes dropping as if to reflect shame. "Oh, yeah. That..."
Oh, yeah? That...?
Was that truly all he had to say on the matter?
"Grandfather arranged it. He thinks she'll be good for me. She's kind enough I suppose."
"Kind enough? You suppose? Is that your only want for your lover? That's she's just kind enough?" Nell's voice was rising several octaves with each new question as she grew more and more angry at not only the situation but also Caius. What happened to being such a freethinker? "What about thrills? What about passion? You can't tell me what you feel for her is even slightly comparable to what you feel for me."
"You know it's not. But what does that matter now?"
"She won't love you the way that I do."
While it was no secret—at least not to them—how they felt about one another, Nell quickly realized she had never been so bold as to expose the true depths of her care for him. But this felt as good a time as any.
The man she loved was betrothed to another, but perhaps there was still a chance to fix this—to save them.
"You can't marry her, Caius!"
Running his fingers through his blonde hair, he pulls at the ends like he wants to rip it all out, which in turn ruins any work that had previously been put into styling his curls in a distinguished manner for tonight. Finally, Caius shrugs before responding, "And what do you propose I do instead? Marry you?"
As he begins to laugh sardonically, Nell is taken aback. Was such a thought really so difficult to imagine?
Her voice is much softer once she speaks again. "Why can't it be me?"
If her mother and sisters could only see her now. They would be utterly mortified at how pathetic she was making herself look. Nell, who typically exhibited such confidence and strength of mind and heart, was becoming absolute putty in this man's hands.
She was giving him all her power, but in this moment, she didn't care.
"Nellie..."
Her aching heart seems to skip a beat as he calls her by the affectionate pet name that he, and he alone, held for her.
Closing most of the distance between them, Caius reaches forward and caresses her cheek with a level of tenderness that should only ever be reserved for the one you love most.
"You and I are so different. Believe it or not, Virgilia is like me. She comes from a line of former presidents and understands all that comes with that. She understands my responsibilities and can help me reach my grandfather's expectations. I love how passionate you are, Nellie. Passion is great. But it can also be distracting... and destructive. You and I would ruin each other. And if we didn't, we'd tire eventually. Passion is only sustainable for so long, right?"
Knowing him as well as she did, she realized he said all this to be complimentary, but each remark felt like a stab at her soft parts. By the time he was done with her, she would have dozens of bleeding wounds all over her body.
As the realization of what he's saying starts to set in, she abruptly shoves his hand away. "You're a coward! You said you cared about me, and now you're refusing to stand by it when it matters most. You made me think you'd marry me."
"I do care about you." Caius takes a small step back, his mouth falling slightly agape as her words fully land. "Wh-hey! I never said that."
This was true. He had never directly spoken with her about marriage, but this thing between them had been going on for so many years now. Was she really so crazy for thinking that, at the end of it all, the outcome would be them together?
"I'm so sorry if I've led you to believe that's where this would go. I hope you'll accept my sincere apology and know that I never intended to lead you on or, most importantly, hurt you."
Nell was too stunned to speak, and truthfully, she had said more than enough already and had nothing left to say to him.
So she said nothing.
Realizing he's not going to get any other response from her, Caius attempts to catch her eye one last time. Selfishly, he wanted one last look at her devastated face before he left. As twisted as it seemed, he couldn't deny that she looked especially beautiful when hurting so profoundly. After a few silent moments of her refusing to look at him pass, he gives up on the idea and offers her a final sentiment before leaving for good: "Hey, it was fun while it lasted."
He had fully been inside of her only a few nights prior. How had things changed so dramatically for the worse in such a short amount of time?
Her head begins to spin as it feels like her entire world is caving in on her. As she opens her mouth to speak, no words seem to find their way out, and instead she releases a shallow breath. It was visible against the cold night air, and as it disappeared, so did any hope she had left.
Caius was going to marry someone else.
He would no longer be hers. Though she now questioned whether he had ever truly been hers in the first place? Because if he were, then this wouldn't be happening.
But this was happening.
And what pained her the most was that she had lost him to the utterly plain Virgilia Ravinstill of all people.
Erebus made the point of escorting Finnick around the party, introducing him to other high-profile members of the Capitol, some of whom Finnick already knew and had to pretend he didn't, such as his buyer for the night, Orion Sickle. Clearly, it pleased Erebus to show Finnick off to his peers. It was almost as if he were some prized pet of his.
In a sense, that's exactly what he was.
The last group of people he's introduced to are Erebus's family. His wife, Onyx, while beautiful, had dark, almost haunting, features. She also appeared to be a woman of very few words. She hadn't so much as greeted Finnick when he was brought around for introductions. But the way in which she watched him, always with a critical gaze, made him think she was an observer. In his experience, inconspicuous types like that tended to be the most dangerous. Despite his inebriated state, he took care to tuck this theory away somewhere safe in case he needed to reference it later.
Next, he was introduced to Erebus's daughter, Dysis. She was high-spirited in a way Finnick struggled to match in the moment, but her vivacious personality gave favorable balance to offset that of her mother, who seemed to be a general thief of joy.
"And this is my eldest, Melene, and her soon-to-be fiancée, Mr. Seneca Crane."
When Erebus addressed his family, he had a sparkle of pride in his otherwise empty eyes. It was clear that he cared a great deal for them. His daughters, in particular. It was hard to imagine a monster like him could possess the ability to truly care for other human life, but Finnick also realized people from the districts were viewed as sub-human, making it easy to discount their lives and suffering while simultaneously uplifting their own here in the Capitol.
Melene kept her arms tightly crossed against her chest—almost like she feared touching him and possibly catching some disease from the districts—but she offered him a courteous, tight-lipped smile nonetheless.
Her soon-to-be fiancée was far more enthusiastic at the introduction. He shakes Finnick's hand exuberantly and says, "It's a real pleasure to meet you. Your game was actually my first year as an official Gamemaker." Seneca had always found a sense of pride in being part of the group of masterminds that had produced the 65th Hunger Games. And he felt a real connection to Finnick because of it as well.
Finnick nods along, attempting to imitate Seneca's enthusiasm, but hearing him voice how proud he was to play a part in the worst experience of his life was a lot. "The pleasure is all mine. I'm glad we could be each other's first. I hope it was as special for you as it was for me."
Seneca removes his hand from Melene's lower back to cover his mouth bashfully as he stifles his own laughter at Finnick's risqué joke.
After a few more forced pleasantries, Erebus released his hold on Finnick for the night and dismissed him in favor of enjoying the company of the sibling duo from District One, Gloss and Cashmere.
It was always 'onto the next shiny thing' with these people. Not that Finnick minded. In fact, he had been relieved to see those two tap in for him. He was exhausted, and knowing the night was still young made him increasingly desperate for even just one brief moment alone.
Finally getting outside, he maneuvers around a small group of people standing in a circle and begins to make his way towards the sweeping rose garden.
Just as he begins to cross the courtyard, he spots the familiar flash of red and white in his peripheral, and fearing the worst, he quickly ducks down behind the large frame of a garden statue.
He had carefully avoided Snow all night, but he should have known that the minute he tried to make his escape, he would pounce at the opportunity to reprimand him. The man saw everything and clearly saw this move coming before Finnick had even finished fully fleshing out the concept.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Finnick holds his breath as he anticipates President Snow rounding the corner and finding him. But as time continues to pass and nothing happens, he lets out a shallow breath and opens his eyes slowly. Suddenly, the voices of whoever he had seen floated in his direction.
"Virgilia Ravinstill."
Who the hell is Virgilia Ravinstill?
And why does President Snow sound like a woman?
That couldn't be right.
Peering around the large statue he had hastily claimed as his hiding spot, Finnick, seeing doubles of everything, catches sight of the red and white ensemble that had previously spooked him. This person was far too young to be the president, but he was clearly kin to him. With his pale blonde hair and cold blue eyes, it was obvious this man was a Snow. But at least he wasn't the one he had been avoiding all night
Now he felt somewhat silly for hiding like this. Pushing himself up off his knees, Finnick decides to carry on with his walk through the rose garden but is stopped in his tracks by what he hears next.
"Why can't it be me?"
Finnick grimaced as he heard these words.
Being forced into the line of work he did, it was becoming more and more difficult to feel embarrassed, as any humiliating feelings were quickly replaced by numbness. Still, he felt humiliated on behalf of this girl. Pleading for someone's love was never a good look. Begging for love from a Snow was an even worse one.
It felt wrong to eavesdrop on an act of such vulnerability, but he imagined the poor girl would be just as uncomfortable, if not more, should he make his presence known by attempting to walk off now. So, with somewhat bated breath, Finnick waited for the painfully awkward conversation to wrap up, and towards the end of it, he even found himself subconsciously signaling as much with hand gestures directed at no one but the empty night air around him.
"Hey, it was fun while it lasted."
Wincing at the poor choice of words that were continually used throughout this encounter, Finnick is relieved when silence follows, and he eventually hears the sound of the bickering couple as they walk away.
Once again rising up from his hiding spot, Finnick is caught off guard when a glass suddenly flies past his head, spilling its liquid contents, before crashing into the ground, the shatter of the splintering glass piercing the air.
Stepping out from behind the statue, he surveys the irreparable glass before looking for the culprit. In an effort to lighten the tense mood, he offers her a small grin and says, "I won't tell if you won't."
Despite the wide range of emotions Nell was currently experiencing, the shock of seeing someone she hadn't been expecting was quickly replaced with an aching embarrassment as she realized that he must have witnessed her entire exchange with Caius.
The look of shock on her face shifts to that of great offense. "You really should have made your presence known sooner."
Perhaps this woman felt harmless to him because of the vulnerability he had just witnessed, or perhaps he was still too inebriated to think clearly, but either way, Finnick didn't find it necessary to completely placate her in this moment.
"And should I have done that before or after you confessed your unrequited love to that guy?"
"Ideally, before." Nell's cheeks become flushed as she glares at him. The closer he steps into the light cascading from the palace windows, the more recognizable he becomes.
Finnick Odair.
Her heart sinks as she realizes who he is.
Everyone in the Capitol knew Finnick, and he seemed to be friendly with a lot of important people. In particular, women who loved to gossip and had nothing better to do than spread stories like wildfire. Did that mean that soon enough, everyone would know the spectacle he had witnessed here tonight? She could already imagine the various versions of events that would be floating around the city.
"Well, sorry, honey. But if it's any consolation, I highly doubt I'll even remember this come morning."
Hearing him hiccup at the conclusion of his sentiment, Nell's face twists in disgust. "How fortunate for you."
"And for you as well." Finnick reminds her with another small grin, "I hope the rest of your night goes better than... well, whatever this was." Though it wasn't necessary, Finnick still made a point to gesture in the general direction of where the lover's quarrel had previously occurred.
As he attempts to move around her, Nell sticks out her arm to stop him, their bodies making contact for the first time. The sudden impact causes Finnick to take a small step back as he looks from her outstretched arm back to her pointed face with genuine bemusement.
"You are not to tell anyone about what you heard here tonight."
There was an obvious, foreboding nature to her words. One that, typically, Finnick had the good sense to at least pretend to care about. But as he looked down at her small frame and recalled the way in which she had pleaded for the Snow kid to accept her, he had a hard time pretending he felt in any way threatened. Instead, his words drip with mockery: "And who would I tell, princess?"
It's not as though they ran in the same social circles. Or, well, perhaps they did, but even still, the Capitol elite he dealt with were focused on other things and spent a hefty price for time with him. Surely they wouldn't want to waste that time gossiping over a mess as tragic as this? If they did, then he was severely underestimating just how much the price of good gossip could go for here in the Capitol...
"You are hardly that important. Or interesting."
He had truly meant for that to be a comfort—a way of acknowledging that, while what had transpired tonight was embarrassing, most people shouldn't care. There were certainly bigger issues in the world. But maybe for Capitol people rejection was the greatest issue. What a charmed existence.
Despite his intentions, as he watches the realization of what he said finally hit her, it's clear that she only saw his comments as a further slight to her ego.
"If I am so insignificant, then what would that make you exactly?"
Was she really saying, 'I know I am, but what are you'? It felt like the sort of juvenile jeering he'd hear from the kids back home.
Giving her a quick look over, Finnick assumes she must be his age, or just slightly older. Weren't they both too old to play these sorts of games?
After what he had witnessed tonight, it was understandable that she would be out of sorts and speaking from a point of defensiveness; the previous exchange had been embarrassing for all involved, including Finnick. Additionally, he had also had something of a strange night and wasn't exactly on his best behavior. Maybe they could give each other a pass. At least just this once.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to overstep or offend." He sticks his hands up, almost in defense.
As he smiled down at her, the innocent look behind his eyes seemed to betray whatever offense he might have previously intended. Could it have been a simple misunderstanding?
Watching as he seemed to struggle to stand in place, she's reminded that he's quite intoxicated. His unruly behavior tonight could simply be summed up as the actions of a drunk. She knew plenty of those, and for that reason alone, she decided to pardon his complete lack of decorum. At least just this once.
Still, she hoped his hangover tomorrow would be especially brutal and that the events of tonight would long be erased from his memory.
"Very well. Enjoy the rest of your night."
"You as well." As she turns away from him, Finnick flippantly bows to her retreating figure and says, "Hey, it was fun while it lasted."
Nell is furious as his final words reach her. So he had meant to offend her? And she had just let him get away with it. Didn't he realize people had lost their tongues for far less? Despite her fury, she didn't humor him with so much as an acknowledgment as she hurried back into the party and far, far away from the insufferable Finnick Odair.
In her flustered state, she was barely aware of her surroundings, and as she turned the corner of the expansive hallway, she ran directly into someone's back, causing her to fall to the ground.
Tonight was only getting worse with each passing minute, and she needed to go home before she embarrassed herself any further. That was, of course, assuming she even had any shame left.
"Oh, Cornelia, I'm so sorry."
She was tired of hearing apologies, especially from men who didn't mean it.
With an empty look, Nell glances up to see who toppled her over and is met by the intense stare of one Seneca Crane.
"I didn't see you there. I truly am sorry."
How could he have? She quite literally ran into his back. There was no way he could have seen her coming but leave it to Seneca to be overly apologetic. Nell couldn't help but see this as a major character flaw that he needed help addressing.
"Are you okay?" He persists, the blue pools of his eyes scanning her over with a cautionary gaze that is quickly followed by a look of true concern as he offers his hand to her.
In this moment, she wanted someone to care for her.
With her head still tilted down, she raises her eyes and peers up at him through her lashes. "Honestly, I could be better." She accepts his extended hand and allows him to easily pull her back up to her feet. However, even once she regains her footing, she refuses to release her hold on him, instead finding that her arm seems to fit naturally in the crook of his own. He doesn't stop her or seem to have any complaints about this unexpected gesture, which she is silently grateful for.
After the night she'd had, she was in dire need of comfort and reassurance. Seneca Crane was hardly her first choice for such a matter, but she was quickly learning that beggars could not be choosers.
And evidently, the boring ones were all the rage this season.
NOTES:
And this is where we leave things for now.
Nell is loosely (somewhat) inspired by a literary (and film) character, and if you are familiar with that book or film, then you might have picked up on it. I tried to gently toe the line between laying it on too thickly and also fully embracing it. Future chapters won't always follow this trend, but I am drawing inspiration from other sources, so you might recognize that in some updates.
If you've read to this point, thank you for giving your time to this story.