Prologue
The girl from 1 and the boy from 4
—— HUNGER GAMES, as far as a twelve year old could remember, was the yearly event where children from the age of 12 to 18 were being sent to fight for their survival. Between life and death, the victor will achieve eternal glory, fame and freedom.
Irene Portwell would beg to differ.
District One was commonly known to have the most victors from the past hunger games. This was because they were given the advantage of attending career training programs mentored by previous victors, followed by being well fed and one of the wealthiest districts amongst 12 districts, followed by 2 and 4.
The very recent victors from district 1 were Gloss and Cashmere. Irene knew them well enough because the latter had been spending most of her time at the Portwell's workshop just to see her stepbrother; Perseus. They've been together before Cashmere was reaped, and Irene remembered how she had been there by Perseus' side to comfort him as they watched the 64th hunger games, soon accompanied by the previous year's victor, Gloss.
When Cashmere had returned, everything changed. Nothing was the same and despite being the youngest of the three teenagers, Irene understood very well to not trust the president's every word, as he himself had a different meaning of freedom in his dictionary. It happened when she overheard Cashmere confronting Perseus of what she had been told to do. The price of her body as an exchange for her freedom and the freedom of her loved ones.
Gloss and Perseus were outraged, and Irene was silently fuming. Such emotion was being held in a small body. Her hatred for the president continued to grow every passing hour.
But district 1... they were blinded by the luxury to notice it. They took pride in every victor that represented their district. They worshiped the Capitol and their president, ignoring the death of their fallen tributes and disregarding it as failures.
It made her ashamed to be a part of its people.
Irene looked outside her window, with her bed pushed in the corner of her room next to the window. Legs tucked beneath her chin as her arms wrapped around her legs. Behind her, Cashmere combed her hair and began her work to section it before braiding it. The older girl noticed the distracted look on her face and softly smiled.
"Everything okay in that pretty head of yours?" Cashmere asked her. Her fingers swiftly transfer strands of her soft blonde locks from one finger to another.
She heard Irene snorted. Something that Jolene would no doubt scold her for. "It's just– I'm thinking how ridiculous the hunger games are. It's a curse." Irene muttered.
Cashmere sighed. "There's nothing we can do about it, Irene." She said. "We don't have the power to stop it, and even if we do, the peacekeepers will have us hanged or executed." The blonde carefully turned the girl to face her once she had finished braiding a piece of her hair and let the rest cascade down her back in soft curls.
"You remember what they told us in school about the dark days. What they did to the rebels."
Of course she remembered. Not a single day goes by without her mother— stepmother, reminding her what happened in the past. The consequences of the rebels defying Capitol's orders. She listened to Jolene's every word and noted the faraway dazed reflected in her eyes. As if she was reminiscing a bitter memory, one that she no longer wanted to remember as it continued to haunt the woman to no end.
"But what if we do." Irene pressed. "What if we do have that power, except the only thing that's stopping us is... fear—"
Cashmere's hands cupped her face, stopping the girl mid-rant. "Stop it, Irene." She sternly told her. "Rebels may have stopped coming out for the past few years, but that doesn't mean the Capitol won't let it slide if any sign of rebellions starts to rise, you understand me?"
"I don't want you to get hurt."
Irene stared at her for a moment. Her brows turned downward and her eyes glazed with ambition and determination. She knew they could do it if they played the cards right. To end the hunger games was a huge leap. It was risky. Irene could end it even though she was young, yet she knew she was destined for greater things.
It's what the letter that was anonymously written to her during her 12th birthday had informed her. No name to address the sender, nor any sign to indicate their identity.
A short sentence; 'The truth will prevail.' had ended the letter.
But one thing that was clear to her, was that the letter had come from the Capitol. And somewhere in that grand city, knew who Irene was.
She met Cashmere's gaze once more and gave her a reluctant nod.
"Good." Cashmere smiled softly. "Come on. This year's victor is going to arrive any second and we should join the boys before he arrives." She held onto Irene's hand and gently pulled her up from her bed. "I heard he's very charming for a boy his age. It's a shame you didn't stay to watch with us." She teased. Letting out a laugh when she heard Irene groan as the two girls left the bedroom.
—
Irene knew who Finnick Odair was.
And she knew how he'd won. He'd fought strongly to the very end, his opponents realizing his capabilities too late until they'd met their unfortunate doom. Finnick who had received mountains of sponsors and his greatest possession— the most expensive of them all, was his mighty trident. Not only that, the boy was lucky enough to be born with such natural beauty to charm the citizens of the Capitol.
And being the youngest victor on top of all that, Irene was impressed.
How does she know all of this if Cashmere had claimed she had not seen his hunger game.
Well... that's probably because she couldn't help but quietly snuck downstairs to the living room and sat on the steps. Hidden by the shadows as her tiny fingers wrapped around the railings while her stormy gray eyes monitored the game, Mentally taking notes of every tribute from their first kills to their deaths, capturing the mistakes that led them to their last breath and the successful attempts followed by their temporary win, before the cycle continues until Finnick was the last one standing.
(Besides, she may or may not secretly place bets with the children at her school on who would win. Fortunately, Irene had won.)
The people of district 1 had gathered for this year's victor's arrival. Dressed in their best clothes to live up to their name as the luxurious district. Irene held onto Cashmere's hands until they were forced to separate, and she was ushered to stand within the group of girls around her age.
Irene kept her eyes forward, trying her best to ignore Ruby, the mayor's daughter, and her endlessly tugging on Irene's braid as the girl stood behind her with her friends. She drowned out their giggles as the torture continued which then followed by some name callings— 'Freak' being the most used, until it completely seized when a blonde haired boy stopped by their group.
Noticing the sudden pause from their bullying, Irene turned around while her brows furrowed in confusion. She scanned the pale faces of Ruby and her friends, when she finally spotted the boy everyone was waiting for.
Except he wasn't looking at her, but rather at Ruby. With a glare that could pierce through one's soul. His lips set in a thin line, as his hands stuffed in his pockets.
"I thought district 1 was one big happy family." Finnick Odair tsked. A sarcastic grin gracing his lips, but his sea green eyes showed distaste for previous antics. "I didn't know bullying an innocent girl was part of the qualification."
When the girls failed to form any words, Finnick shook his head and then he turned to face Irene. When their eyes met, she felt herself frozen when the boy unexpectedly winked at her before he continued his way up to the stage.
The tour resumed normally with Finnick introducing himself and giving a speech to the families of the fallen tributes. There was genuine sympathy Irene could detect in his voice, but his charm easily eased the tension that had been placed upon them before his arrival. Their disappointment towards their loss after they had won consecutively during Gloss and Cashmere's hunger games, slowly vanished.
Irene found herself unable to move her gaze from him as he delivered his speech. Her eyes would trace his every movement, studying him as if he was an interesting subject because she was still baffled at the thought of someone younger— someone around her age, could possibly win the hunger games.
It was interesting indeed.
It made her eager to know if there's any hope for younger tributes to win in the upcoming games.
Well... only time will tell and may the odds be ever in their favour if there was any chance of surviving till the very end.
A/N not Irene placing bets on her future husband 💀