The train rattled and groaned as it sped through the night, the steady hum of machinery nothing like the lull of the waves outside Aurelia's bedroom window back home. She lay still, staring at the ceiling, listening to the uneven rhythm of metal on metal. The mattress beneath her was soft—too soft—and the sheets smelled like artificial roses, not sea salt and sun-warmed linen.
She wasn't going to sleep.
With a quiet sigh, she slipped out of bed, barefoot as she padded down the dimly lit corridor. She didn't have a destination in mind, just needed to move, needed to think. She had to win. She had to go home. Her father, her grandparents—they needed her. If she died, no one would be left to take care of them. The thought sent a cold spike of determination through her.
As she neared the back of the train, she spotted him.
Finnick was draped in a thick robe, leaning against the window as the darkened landscape zipped past them. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, his posture relaxed, but his gaze was distant—lost somewhere beyond the glass.
Then he noticed her.
That famous, million-dollar smile appeared, effortless as ever, and for some ridiculous reason, Aurelia's breath hitched.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice low in the quiet of the train.
She hesitated, then nodded. "Too loud," she admitted. "It's not like home."
Finnick hummed like he understood, then gestured to the seat across from him. Aurelia didn't think twice before slipping into it. For a while, they just sat there, watching the train cut through the woods, the trees a dark blur against the night.
Then, slowly, the silence gave way to conversation.
"You worked at the general store, right?" Finnick asked, glancing at her with interest. "By the candy aisle?"
Aurelia huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah. That stupid section always needed restocking. The Capitol tourists bought up the weirdest stuff."
Finnick grinned. "Like those pink sugar clams."
Aurelia groaned. "Oh, don't remind me. I tried one once. It was like eating a seashell coated in syrup."
That made him laugh, a real laugh, not one of those polished ones he gave the cameras. It was warm and unguarded, and Aurelia found herself smiling before she even realized it.
"Yeah, they're awful," Finnick agreed, shaking his head. "But I swear, people buy them by the crate. It's like they think everything shaped like a seashell is automatically gourmet."
Aurelia leaned back, crossing her arms. "Let them have their overpriced sugar rocks. I'll stick to the real food."
Finnick smirked. "Speaking of which, I heard you're a hell of a fisherman."
Aurelia raised an eyebrow. "From who?"
Finnick shrugged. "Word gets around."
She scoffed. "I doubt that. But yeah, I'm decent. My dad taught me everything I know." Her voice softened slightly. "Used to say I had a 'fisherman's instinct.' I could tell where the fish were even before we dropped the nets."
Finnick studied her, something unreadable in his gaze. "Sounds like you were meant to be out there."
Aurelia nodded slowly. "Yeah. Guess I was."
The train rumbled on, the quiet stretching between them again, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable.
Then Finnick spoke again, voice quieter. "I know what you're thinking about."
Aurelia looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Oh yeah?"
He gave her a small, knowing smile. "You're thinking about how you have to win."
Her breath caught in her throat. He was right. Of course, he was right.
"Yeah," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have to."
Finnick nodded slowly, looking back out the window. "I remember that feeling."
Aurelia watched him, his profile sharp against the dim glow of the train lights. "Did it help?"
His smile faltered for just a second before returning, smaller this time. "For a while."
Aurelia didn't ask what he meant. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Instead, she leaned her head against the seat, letting the rhythmic clatter of the train settle around them. For the first time since stepping onto that stage, she felt something close to normal.
Like she was just chatting with a boy from school, not sitting in a Capitol train hurtling toward her death.
Aurelia glanced at Finnick, watching the way his expression shifted—how the usual effortless charm faded into something more solemn. She could tell what he was thinking about.
"He should have won," she muttered, more to herself than to him.
Finnick let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping absently against the armrest. "I thought he was going to," he admitted. "Right up until the moment he wasn't."
Aurelia swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral. She didn't want to cry, not here, not in front of Finnick. Not when she had spent so long locking the grief away.
"He was the best tribute in that arena," Finnick continued, voice quieter now. "Stronger than any of them. Smarter, too. But in the end, that didn't matter." He shook his head slightly. "It never does."
Aurelia stared at the floor, jaw tight. She could still see the way Farius had smiled at her before he left, tousling her hair like he always did, promising he'd be back soon. Promising he wouldn't break his promise.
Finnick sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I tried," he said. "I fought for him, did everything I could to get him sponsors, to keep him alive. But the arena… the Games—" He exhaled sharply. "It's never fair."
Aurelia's hands curled into fists. "I know."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The train hummed around them, the trees outside blurring into shadows against the night sky.
Then Finnick glanced at her. "You remind me of him."
Aurelia blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
Finnick gave a small, knowing smile. "The way you carry yourself. That fire in your eyes." He paused, watching her. "But you're not him, Aurelia."
She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Finnick leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. "It means you're not Farius. You're not here to live his Games." His voice softened. "This is your fight."
Aurelia held his gaze, her chest tightening.
He wasn't wrong. She hated that he wasn't wrong.
But she still had to win.
For Farius. For her family.
And she wasn't going to let anything stop her.
The next morning, Aurelia dressed in the plain clothes laid out for her—a simple cream-colored blouse and dark slacks, nothing flashy, nothing that screamed tribute. Just fabric to cover her skin. The night had been restless, filled with broken fragments of sleep that never settled into anything peaceful. The train was still moving, smooth now as it sped toward the inevitable.
She ran a hand through her tangled blonde waves and stepped out of her compartment, drawn by the scent of fresh bread and coffee.
Ky was already up, lounging in his seat at the breakfast table, running his mouth about something Aurelia had no patience for. Finnick sat across from him, idly stirring his tea, looking half amused, half bored.
"—and that's why, obviously, if I had been reaped last year, I would've made top five at least," Ky was saying, waving a fork like a conductor leading an orchestra of his own ego.
Aurelia exhaled sharply through her nose and slid into a chair, grabbing a plate and quietly helping herself to eggs, toast, and some sort of fresh fruit that had definitely not come from District Four. She forced a few bites down, though her stomach still felt uneasy.
Ky continued his self-important rambling, something about his training, something about how he was so ready for this. Aurelia could only take so much. Finally, she cut through his nonsense, looking straight at Finnick.
"So, what's the plan for today?" she asked, her voice even but pointed.
Ky stopped mid-sentence, blinking at her like a fish yanked from water. He looked positively offended that she'd interrupted him.
Finnick, however, smirked slightly behind the rim of his teacup before lowering it and answering smoothly. "We'll be arriving in the Capitol in a few hours. After that, you'll meet your stylists." He leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking between the two of them. "And then tonight, you'll both make your grand debut in the parade of tributes."
Aurelia nodded, taking another bite of toast. Ky huffed like a child denied attention.
Great. The parade. Another step closer to the arena.
Ky scoffed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not that it really matters," he said, smirking. "Four hasn't exactly had the best tributes these past few years. Ever since Finnick, it's been one disappointment after another."
Aurelia froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. Her grip tightened around it as a slow burn crawled up her spine. She set it down carefully before looking at him. "What did you just say?"
Ky shrugged, completely unbothered. "I'm just saying, most of them barely made it past the bloodbath. Last year's girl drowned, for gods' sake. Then there was that god awful pair two years ago who didn't even join the careers. And the year before that—"
Aurelia pushed back from the table abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. Her heart pounded against her ribs. "The year before that was Farius."
Ky blinked, then had the nerve to roll his eyes. "Yeah, and? He still lost."
Finnick barely had time to move before Aurelia was across the table, her hand gripping the front of Ky's shirt. She yanked him forward, their faces inches apart, her voice low and sharp as a blade.
"Say his name again like that, and I'll show you exactly why I was his sister."
Ky's cocky smirk faltered for just a second, his hands hovering like he wasn't sure whether to push her off or not. He must've seen something in her eyes—something deadly—because he let out a nervous chuckle and put his hands up in surrender.
"Relax," he said, though his voice wasn't as smooth as before. "I didn't mean anything by it."
Aurelia held his gaze a second longer before shoving him back into his seat. She turned away, chest rising and falling, fingers still curled into fists.
Finnick, who had watched the entire exchange with an unreadable expression, finally spoke. "Alright, children," he said lightly, though his eyes were sharp. "Save the fighting for the arena."
Aurelia let out a slow breath and sat back down, but her appetite was gone. She stabbed at her food without eating.
Ky cleared his throat and picked at a roll, staying unusually quiet.
Good. Maybe he was finally learning to shut up.
The train slowed as it approached the station, the sleek, glimmering buildings of the Capitol growing larger with each second. Despite the heavy tension from breakfast, both Ky and Aurelia moved toward the window, drawn in by sheer awe. The city stretched before them, gleaming under the midday sun, a chaotic blend of towering skyscrapers, flashing advertisements, and streets teeming with people dressed in colors that didn't exist back home. The sheer size of it, the overwhelming brightness—it was unlike anything they had ever seen.
Behind them, Finnick leaned lazily against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching them with an amused expression. Mags, seated nearby, smiled knowingly. It was the same every year.
As the train came to a full stop, Finnick straightened and sighed. "Alright, listen up," he said, drawing their attention. "The second those doors open, it's a circus. Cameras, reporters—everyone wanting a good look at the fresh meat. Keep your head up and don't let them see you sweat."
Ky, as expected, grinned and smoothed a hand over his shirt. "I think I can handle a few cameras."
Aurelia didn't say anything, but her fingers twitched slightly at her side. She felt Mags's warm hand wrap around her elbow, grounding her, and she exhaled through her nose.
The train doors slid open with a hiss. Ky was the first to step out, his usual smirk plastered on his face, already eating up the attention. Finnick followed, walking like he owned the place.
Aurelia squared her shoulders and let Mags guide her forward. As they stepped onto the platform, a gust of wind caught her hair, sending strands of golden blonde dancing around her face. The flashing of cameras nearly blinded her, voices shouting over one another—her name, questions she barely registered.
She didn't let it show. Instead, she tilted her chin up, letting a cool, confident smile touch her lips. She moved with purpose, walking like she belonged here, like she wasn't some terrified girl from the districts about to be thrown into an arena.
A reporter called something to her—she didn't catch what, but she smiled anyway, playful and effortless. Then, just because she could, she winked at them. The flashing intensified.
Finnick, who had been watching from a few steps ahead, let out a quiet chuckle. "Oh, you're good," he murmured under his breath as she reached his side.
Aurelia only smirked and followed him inside the Tribute Center, leaving the chaos of the cameras behind.
Finnick led them into the elevators. The elevator ride up to the fourth floor was smooth and silent, save for the faint hum of the machinery. Aurelia watched the golden numbers flicker as they ascended, her mind still reeling from the sheer spectacle of the Capitol. The city was nothing like home—the salty air, the sand between her toes, the smell of fish and seaweed replaced by artificial scents and polished glass. It was too clean, too bright, too manufactured.
When the doors slid open, Finnick stepped out first, motioning for them to follow. "Welcome to your new home," he said dryly, sweeping his arm out in an exaggerated flourish.
The floor was luxurious, as expected. The ceilings stretched high, painted to resemble an almost-too-perfect sky, while the walls were adorned with shimmering aquamarine panels meant to mimic the ocean. Plush furniture was scattered across the room in shades of blue and silver, and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the dazzling cityscape of the Capitol. It was extravagant, opulent—too much.
"Come on," Finnick said, leading them through the space. "Living quarters are down that hall. The TV room is back there. And the dining area—well, you'll know it when you see it. Any questions?"
Aurelia shook her head, still taking it all in. Ky, on the other hand, grinned. "Yeah. When do we get to meet the people who are gonna make us look like gods?"
As if on cue, the double doors at the end of the room burst open, and in swept their stylists.
Armoria, Ky's stylist, was the first to catch the eye. Her hair was a violent mix of neon green and pink, piled high on her head in some sculpted monstrosity. She wore an asymmetrical gown in clashing patterns, and her eyebrows were drawn so high they nearly touched her hairline. She clapped her hands together in delight upon seeing Ky. "Oh, you are divine," she declared, circling him like a hawk inspecting prey.
Ky looked positively thrilled. "I like her," he muttered to Finnick.
Aurelia, however, found her attention drawn to the man beside Armoria. He was tall, his muscular arms covered in intricate black tattoos that wound up his neck. Unlike most Capitol citizens, his face wasn't overly altered, and his brown eyes held a warmth she hadn't expected.
He grinned when he saw her. "Oh, sweetheart," he said, stepping forward. "You are going to be the easiest tribute I've had since Finnick."
Finnick let out a soft laugh, but Aurelia was still studying the man. He introduced himself as Gorgie. She liked him already.
Before she could say anything, the whirlwind began.
She was ushered down the hall into a pristine white room, stripped of her clothes, and shoved into a steaming bath filled with fragrant, unfamiliar salts. The water smelled like honey and flowers, nothing like the sea-soaked baths she was used to at home. Then came the real work.
Her entire body was scrubbed raw, every inch exfoliated until her skin felt as smooth as polished driftwood. Any hint of body hair was waxed away with ruthless efficiency, her protests ignored as her team worked like a school of fish, moving in perfect synchrony. Her nails were trimmed and shaped, her calloused hands softened.
Her hair was next. She barely had time to register the feeling of scissors before long strands of her sun-kissed blonde locks fell to the floor. Gorgie worked carefully, shaping it with the precision of an artist, muttering to himself as he adjusted and refined the look. When she caught a glimpse in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her hair still fell past her shoulders, but it was more styled, more intentional—wild, yet controlled, like the ocean in a storm.
Then came the makeup. She sat still as powders and creams were dusted across her skin, enhancing her already sharp features. Her blue eyes, which had always reminded her of the waves back home, now seemed even more piercing, framed with smoky shadow and shimmering highlights.
Finally, the costume.
Gorgie helped her into it, his hands careful but swift as he adjusted the delicate knots and ties. The fabric—or rather, the lack of it—made her pause. It was a net, woven intricately, barely covering anything. The strategic knots kept it just modest enough, but it was clear what the intention was. Her tan, toned body was on full display, the lighting casting golden highlights across her skin.
She turned to the mirror, and for the first time since arriving in the Capitol, she felt truly stunned.
She looked like something out of a myth. A sea siren stepping out of the waves, dangerous and beautiful.
Gorgie stood behind her, admiring his work with a satisfied nod. "You're eighteen," he said simply, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "That means we can play up the sex appeal. Get you more sponsors."
Aurelia didn't react. She had expected this. It was a strategy the Capitol ate up, one Finnick had been forced to endure for years. She had spent enough time in District Four to know that beauty was a weapon in its own way.
She nodded once. "I get it."
Gorgie gave her hair a few more careful adjustments before stepping back. "Good girl."
He then gestured toward the door. "Come on, let's get you downstairs. It's time for the parade."
Aurelia took a final glance in the mirror, exhaled slowly, then turned and followed him out.
The elevator ride down to the staging area was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the machinery. Aurelia's heart pounded steadily in her chest, though she kept her expression cool, composed. Gorgie had done his job well—she looked untouchable, and she had no intention of proving otherwise.
As the doors slid open, the bright lights of the parade's preparation space flooded in. Tributes from all the other districts were being fitted into their respective carriages, draped in extravagant costumes meant to represent their homes. The energy in the room was tense, buzzing with nerves, but Aurelia forced herself to focus.
Then she saw them.
Finnick and Ky were waiting near their carriage, already dressed. Ky's costume, much to his dismay, made him look like a child playing pirate, all soft fabric and harmless little details. Finnick, however, was something else entirely—elegant yet effortless, his chiseled features unreadable as he stood with his arms crossed, clearly waiting for them.
But when his eyes landed on Aurelia, his entire demeanor shifted.
His mouth parted slightly, whatever words he had been about to say dying on his lips. His sea-green eyes roamed over her, from the way the net hugged her curves to the way the golden light of the Capitol made her seem almost ethereal. He had seen countless tributes paraded before the cameras over the years, had himself been made into a spectacle time and time again—but this? This was different.
Aurelia felt warmth creep up her neck at his gaze, but she kept her expression carefully neutral, tilting her head slightly as if to say, What?
Ky, meanwhile, was not nearly as subtle.
"This is so unfair," he groaned, tugging at the sleeves of his costume. "I look like a child that should be selling fish at the market, and she—" he gestured wildly at Aurelia, exasperated.
Gorgie didn't even let him finish. "That's because you are a child," he said dryly, adjusting the netting on Aurelia's shoulder. "She isn't."
Ky scowled but didn't argue further, though his grumbling didn't cease entirely.
Finnick, however, still hadn't taken his eyes off Aurelia. The intensity of his gaze made her shift slightly, suddenly aware of every inch of exposed skin, but she refused to let it shake her. Instead, she squared her shoulders and met his stare head-on.
"Say something, Odair," she teased, keeping her voice light, though her heart was still hammering.
Finnick blinked, as if snapping back to reality, before giving her one of his trademark smirks. "I was just thinking," he said, voice smooth, "Gorgie really is a genius."
Aurelia rolled her eyes, but there was no missing the flicker of amusement in them.
Then, the handlers were ushering them toward the carriage, the metallic sheen of the wheels glinting under the harsh Capitol lights. Aurelia climbed up first, the net shifting around her like a second skin, and Ky followed close behind.
As the countdown to departure began, Ky suddenly reached for her hand.
Aurelia yanked it away before they even left the staging area, shooting him a sharp look. "Don't," she muttered under her breath.
Ky huffed but didn't try again, instead gripping the side of the carriage as they rolled forward.
And then they were out.
The sound was deafening. Cheers, screams, chants of their district name—all of it blended into one overwhelming roar as the carriage moved through the grand avenue. The city lights illuminated everything in a golden glow, reflecting off the sheer, shimmering fabric of her costume.
Aurelia kept her easy smile in place, lifting her arm in a graceful wave to the crowd. The cameras snapped rapidly, capturing her from every angle, and as she subtly glanced up at the massive screens that projected their images, she nearly froze.
She was captivating.
Gorgie's work had done more than just highlight her features—it had made her glow. Her golden skin, the way her hair caught the light, the effortless confidence she exuded—it all made Ky, standing stiffly beside her, look practically invisible.
For the first time since she had stepped onto that train, Aurelia felt something shift inside her.
She wasn't just a tribute. She wasn't just another girl from District Four sent to die.
She was a weapon.
Lifting her chin just slightly, she let herself revel in it, basking in the energy of the crowd as they pulled to a stop in front of the grand balcony. The noise dimmed as President Snow stepped forward, his cold, calculating smile spreading across his face.
Aurelia barely heard the words he spoke—something about the honor of the Games, the glory of the Capitol, the sacrifices of the districts. It was all the same recycled speech.
But none of that mattered now.
Because she knew, in that moment, that the entire Capitol had their eyes on her.
And she was going to make sure they never looked away.
The moment the parade ended, the carriages rolled back into the staging area, the roar of the Capitol crowd still ringing in Aurelia's ears. The artificial glow of the arena lights cast long shadows over the waiting tributes as attendants rushed forward to help them dismount.
Finnick and Mags were already there when their carriage came to a stop. Finnick's arms were crossed, his sea-green eyes flicking over Aurelia with something close to amusement. Mags, standing beside him, gave her a small, knowing smile.
Aurelia barely had time to steady herself before Finnick stepped forward, offering his hand.
She hesitated for half a second—because she didn't need his help—but then placed her palm in his. Finnick's grip was warm, firm, and when she landed gracefully on the ground, he didn't let go immediately. Instead, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"You were incredible out there," he murmured, his lips curving into a smirk. "Almost makes me wish I was back in the Games—just to see you steal the show firsthand."
Aurelia scoffed but felt her cheeks warm despite herself. "Flattery, Odair?"
"Observation," he corrected smoothly, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand before he finally released it.
Ky jumped down from the carriage behind them, scowling. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he glared between Finnick and Aurelia, seething.
And then, without warning, he lunged.
Aurelia caught the movement in her peripheral vision just in time. Ky's fist shot toward her, but before he could make contact, she snatched his wrist mid-swing, twisting his arm sharply. With a practiced movement, she used his own momentum against him, flipping him over her shoulder and slamming him onto the cold, hard floor.
The entire staging area fell into stunned silence.
Ky gasped as the air was knocked out of him, his limbs flailing as Aurelia pinned him down, her knee pressed hard against his chest. Her breathing was ragged, her hands shaking with adrenaline.
"Don't you ever try that again," she snapped, her voice like steel.
Ky struggled, his face twisting in rage and humiliation. But before he could do anything else, Finnick was there.
"Aurelia."
His voice was calm but firm, and then suddenly, his hands were on her arms, pulling her back. She resisted for a moment, her muscles still locked tight, but Finnick was stronger. He hauled her to her feet, steering her away from Ky before she could lash out again.
Mags and Armoria rushed to Ky's side as he groaned, clutching his ribs.
The other tributes, who had all stopped to watch, exchanged wide-eyed glances. Some looked impressed. Others looked wary. And that's when it hit her.
She had just made a scene.
Finnick kept his grip on her as he practically dragged her toward the elevator. She didn't fight him—though every fiber of her being was still burning with anger—but as soon as the doors slid shut behind them, she yanked her arm free.
"What the hell was that?" Finnick hissed, turning on her.
Aurelia crossed her arms, her breath still coming in short bursts. "He tried to punch me. What was I supposed to do? Let him?"
"You could've handled it without flipping him onto the floor in front of every tribute in that room!" Finnick shot back, his frustration palpable. "Now you've got every single one of them looking at you like you're a threat."
Aurelia scoffed. "I am a threat."
Finnick exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "You just put a target on your back, Aurelia."
She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "I had a target on my back the second I was reaped. You think people don't remember my brother? How good of a fighter he was? You think they don't know who I am?" Her voice wavered slightly before she steeled herself again. "Nothing I do is going to change that."
Finnick's expression darkened. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. Then, finally, his shoulders sagged slightly, and his voice softened.
"You still need to be careful," he said. "Don't make it easier for them to take you out."
The elevator chimed, signaling their arrival at the fourth floor. The doors slid open, but Aurelia didn't move right away. She was still fuming, her hands clenched into fists, her pulse roaring in her ears.
She turned to storm off toward her room, but before she could, Finnick caught her arm again.
This time, his grip was gentle. When she looked up at him, she was startled to find his eyes searching hers, something unreadable flickering in them.
"Don't give up before the Games have even started," he murmured.
Aurelia's breath caught.
For a second—just a second—her anger wavered, replaced by something else entirely. Finnick's touch was warm, grounding, and the sincerity in his voice made her stomach twist in a way she didn't want to acknowledge.
But then she yanked her arm free, stepping back. She didn't say a word.
Instead, she turned on her heel and stalked off toward her room, slamming the door shut behind her.