Sugarcubes // Finnick Odair - Hunger Games Fanfic

VI.

I remember standing in this very room, looking at myself in the same mirror 8 years ago.

I felt powerful then. Now? I feel the opposite; I feel powerless. I'm a captive. This time, the training suits are made out a spandex material, sleeveless, which I already hate, and knee-length.

I would tie my hair back, but I don't have much hair to tie back. Instead, I decide to stop delaying the inevitable, and step out the door. Johanna is sitting in place of Eero (Rest in peace), looking like she didn't sleep at all. Blight at his usual spot, staring down at his food gruffly, John sits at the head of the table gobbling his food up. I take a seat, and none of them acknowledge my presence. I start wolfing down my food, knowing I'll need the fat in the games, If I'm to live long enough to get Finnick out of there alive.

"Have you thought about an angle, Ria?" Blight asks gruffly, wincing as he sips on his glass of alcohol, shocking everybody at the table. He wants me to get out.

"They know me. I'm a bitch. That's my angle." I tell him, not wanting to entirely shut him down, but not wanting to put on a show for the capitol either.

"Maybe you could use some of your charm." He tells me, and I burst out laughing, choking on my food. It's not that funny. But I could use the break from the icy atmosphere. Something is wrong with Jo, but I can't figure it out right now. My charm is well known to be knife throwing.

He looks at the watch, before sighing, and pushing himself off the table.

"Shall we go?"

I stand up alongside him, place a small kiss on Jo's head – which she deflects, and head out the door alongside him. Just before we exit however, I see a small jar of sugar cubes on the table. It's not supposed to be there, of course, but it was placed there on my special request. Letting Blight go ahead, I walk slowly back to the table and pour the contents of the jar into the palm of my hand. I place one sugar cube in front of Jo, and one in my mouth, cupping the rest in my hand, and walking out of the door. I see her eat it as I close it.

Walking to the elevator, and pressing the button to go into the training room is lonely, which I appreciate. I was scared I might run into someone else on the way down, something I couldn't handle right now.

As I walk into the training room, everybody's already split into their own groups. I scan the room quickly, which is much more improved than what I remember from eight years ago. I've never stepped into this room after my games. I see Finnick in a corner, talking to Katniss, and head the opposite direction, winking at him when he catches my eye. He blushes. Deciding to make good on the 'Bitch' angle, I step up to the axes. It's a surprise; I see my axe. The one I'm most accustomed to. The one I used in my games. My axe. They put it there for a reason. I shoot a look at the game makers, who are all eagerly watching me, as if waiting to see my reaction.

Fuck it.

I pick up the axe. It feels so good in my hands, and that makes me shiver. Swinging it around a couple of times, to get a feel for the weight, I turn on my heel and hurl the axe at the targets, sinking it into the center. I do a small curtsy, even though I'm not facing them, I know the game makers are watching.

"Nice throw, Seven" I hear his footsteps before I hear his voice, but not fast enough for me to prepare myself for him throwing his arms around me from behind and pulling me closer to him.

"Four!" I gasp, laughing slightly. "I won the bet," I tell him, loosening myself from his grasp and turning around to face him, jerking my head towards Katniss who is sitting with Beetee and Wiress.

"I heard," He tells me, smirking at the thought of how I achieved this.

I smile to myself and move away from him, but he catches me by the arm, and bends to pick up the trident he set on the floor.

"Going so soon, Ria?" He asks, using the nickname that for very long has been reserved for the people close to me, although I suppose he fits in that bracket.

"You're using my name, Four?"

"No, I'm just using a different nickname. Thought you wanted to get some practice."

"That's what I was going to do."

"I bet you can't take me." He tells me, and I smile at him.

"How much?" The mischievous twinkle appears in my eyes, and I glance up at the game makers, sure that they are sucking up every second of this fiery exchange. Finnick and I have never been encouraged in these exchanges – just the thought of losing two of his most desirable victors would be appalling to snow – but that never stopped us from talking. And talking leads to laughing. And laughing leads to caring. And sadly, caring leads to loving.

Loving leads to pain.

He takes a swipe at me with his weapon, and I swiftly step backwards, dodging it easily and smirking at him. He takes a few threatening steps forward, and I match them with my own fleeting steps backwards. He has a weapon, and he's much stronger, but I'm faster, and well – better. Ducking to avoid his fourth attack, I nail a soft kick in the chest, sending him stumbling backward a few steps enough for me to reposition myself nearer to the axes. He swipes again, having no real intent of hurting me, but wanting to get as close as possible. I step back, on the handle of an axe and force it to be launched up into my hands. I grin as I catch it, matching his trident with it, resulting in a loud clang of metal on metal. Everybody stops to look at us.

I'm able to counterattack quickly, and both of us are quite evenly matched, the swipes getting closer and closer to drawing blood, but never actually causing harm.

We fight ferociously, both of us too stubborn to back down, and too evenly matched to defeat the other. The other tributes watch. I regret not tying my hair back. It flies in my face, not enough to distract me, but just enough to annoy me. Sweat trickles down our foreheads as we fight, laugh, and talk.

"Hey Finnick? "I call, in the middle of our conversation, causing him just enough shock at my use of his real name (Which I use exceedingly sparingly) for me to trip him, grab the trident out of his hand, and lower my axe to a few millimeters above his neck.

"I wouldn't bet against me," I tell him when he raises his hands in surrender, laughing and dropping my axe to help him up. The rest of the tributes – notably Katniss and Peeta, stand audience to our fight, looking awestruck.

"I'm always rooting for you, Ria." He tells me, before picking up his trident and stalking off with a smile on his face. I blow a strand of my hair out of my eyes as I look at him go, smiling quietly.

The crowd disperses slowly.

-

*The training room, close to the swords*

The blonde boy stands, shell shocked after Kendria and Finnick's display, a sword hanging loosely from his fingertips. The rest of the victors have gotten back to their work; even Katniss, who is now approaching Mags. Peeta can't take his eyes off her. The brunette across the room is unfazed by the attention, just picking up another axe and swinging it around slowly, as though she's contemplating something big. Something dangerous.

Cashmere notices the newbies stare, directed at an old friend, and appears behind him, tapping him once on the shoulder. They've already agreed that Her and Gloss aren't offering an alliance to Peeta, but it wouldn't hurt to tell him what everyone in this room already knows.

He's startled, turning around immediately, meeting her threatening smirk.

"Peeta," She greets, leaning forward and placing two kisses on either of his cheeks, the formal greeting in her district.

"Cashmere," He greets back, accepting the kisses which much more manners than Cashmere expected, judging from his district partner.

"I know she's eye candy, but you may want to stop staring."

"I'm not- Not like that." He stutters, turning red.

"For one, your fiancé is currently stalking towards us, and two, she's Finnick's girl. Come on! Everybody with halfway decent eyesight knows that." She tells him, before slinking away as Katniss joins the bewildered boy.

She's Finnick's girl.

Published: 4 December, 2023