Thank you for reading this far! This will be NEW. As in, this is not in the original Hunger Games Universe. 

Let me know what you think! 

As always, I'm so thankful for anyone reading this story and I hope I will see you continue to read it and comment.

Kindly take the time to vote if you are enjoying this story! It means so much to me!

Take care and stay safe! ~CANGEL

***

Scarlet Wolfe

     Tonight's event, a grand gathering for the tributes, mentors, and escorts, along with only the highest and most influential members of the Capitol—if Penelope's word were to be taken seriously—would be held in the Training Center.

     Cassandra informed her the night before about the early arrival of the prep team and the extensive preparations that would be taking place. Penelope and Vera—Crimson's escort—had assured her, as if she cared, that the Training Center would be completely reimagined and would look nothing like it had in the day's prior. There would be a band that played only the most elegant and refined music along with a small feast, but the main objective would be to mingle with the Capitol guests and entertain them.

     There was zero chance of Scarlet doing that successfully, but her objection was dismissed. Her presence was not a request. It was a requirement.

     Apparently, the event occurred every year, but it had never been broadcasted to the outer districts, which is why Scarlet had not known beforehand. Apparently, it was a social gathering meant to allow the higher society a chance to meet each of the tributes before the individual training scores were announced. Those in attendance were the ones most likely to sponsor a tribute and send much needed gifts once the tributes entered the Arena.

     There was, evidently, an opportunity for some of the members of the Capitol to bet on the tributes predicted scores. When Scarlet had asked if that could affect the Gamemaker's scoring, her question was again, brushed off with a stilted laugh from Penelope and Vera as they assured her that the Gamemaker's were not allowed to take part in the betting of the Hunger Games.

     In preparation for this grand event—one that Scarlet absolutely detested and dreaded—she had been assaulted by the near-constant chattering of her prep team from the moment she woke up. It wasn't the noise, as she couldn't actually hear them. But their hyperbolic Capitol mannerisms—that were always mildly annoying—were so overdone today that it was nearly unbearable to be subjected to.

     Every gesture was overly dramatic, their faces animated with expressions that she couldn't decipher. Whenever Scarlet tried to focus on one of them, she found herself lost in the bits and pieces of half-finished sentences and overlapping conversations that she couldn't decode.

     The only relief was that the prep work needed on her body was not nearly as extensive as when she had first arrived in the Capitol. Instead of the 'gluttony and gold' scents Sotor had highly recommended, she was able to pick simple scents that appealed to her.

     With much complaint, they relented and washed her hair with lemon-scented shampoo and conditioner, polished her skin with the pine scented lotion and oil. The combined scents were heavenly to her nose, and she couldn't stop drawing in deep breaths.

     By the time that Scarlet stood naked and ready for Cassandra's appraisal, she was exhausted. Her patience was gone, and she would snap if one more person touched her face to share petty Capitol gossip—which she cared nothing about.

     Fortunately, that was when Cassandra walked in, took one look at her, and announced that any unnecessary conversation would result in permanent removal from her team.

     With that one sentence, the chaos surrounding Scarlet since she woke up, settled and dissipated. Scarlet could breathe once again.

     From there, progress sped up considerably. Sotor did her nails, her swollen purple hands contrasting starkly against Scarlet's own pale, slender fingers. Torus worked on her hair, twisting and curling, misting it with spray every few seconds. And Clio stood in front of her, finger painting on her face.

     "Don't move, or you'll mess it up," Clio warned.

     Scarlet obeyed, not moving, blinking, or even daring to breathe, as he smeared a heap of black paint onto her face over her eyes, marked her face with a pencil and coated her eyelashes in black.

     Sotor finished with her nails first and left the room quietly. Clio brought even more black to her face, this time a powdered substance that nearly made her choke as it ticked the back of her throat. He colored her eyebrows and then finally, finally, put the black make-up away.

     Torus finished her hair and left the room, leaving Scarlet feeling as if she'd tip over from the weight focused on one side of her head. Scarlet hoped the crick in her neck that she'd have by the end of the night would be worth it.

     After Torus left, Clio applied bright red lipstick generously, then dusted white-frosted powder across her face, hair, and shoulders.

     As Clio stepped back to appraise his work, Cassandra joined him. After a few details were fixed, Clio left, and Scarlet was allowed to leave the bathroom.

     Sotor and Torus were there in the main area of her bedroom and under Cassandra's keen gaze, they helped her into the tall, heeled sandals, with thin straps wrapped a few times around her ankles for support.

     The corset was different than the last one, wrapping tightly around her chest, constricting her breath, and adding curves to her body that she didn't naturally have. A narrow flat piece of metal extended down the front of her chest to her midline, with thin pieces of metal wrapped around the sides of her waist, mimicking sturdy silver ribs.

     Clio brought in the dress then. And it took all three of them to arrange it on her body. The dress was made of the softest black material she'd ever felt in her life. They pinned the dress to the top of her corset, and wrapped the fabric around her body, covering her back completely, leaving her stomach and bits of her silver-ribbed corset exposed as the dress continued around her hips and hung down to the floor. The dress was held together by a few simple stiches that Cassandra put in place.

     The part of the dress that had been pinned to the top of her corset was unpinned and pulled over her shoulder, wrapping down her arm before hanging loosely to the ground. A few stiches were all that held it in place.

     Cassandra circled her body like a hawk, making any final adjustments. Only when she was satisfied, did she let Scarlet see herself in the mirror.

     Scarlet's breath caught. Cassandra hadn't made her beautiful, pretty, or innocent looking. Elegant, refined, and deadly. Cassandra had transformed her into a warrior, untamable and unbreakable.

     Memorable to even the shallowest minds in the Capitol.

     Her face was a painted mask. There was a beauty to the chaos on her face, the black paint was smudged in a purposefully wild way across her eyes and the bridge of her nose. Her lips were bright red, the color of blood.

     Her lashes, brows, and hair were covered in the white-dusting, and she noticed a single snowflake between her brows that would reflect and shine under any overhead lights.

     Her hair was braided back along one side in an intricate braid, while the rest of her hair was pulled to her left, hanging down her back and over her shoulder. Curly, thick and a bit wild.

     The dress she wore was translucent black that sparkled in the lights and was dyed a deep red. A long cape is pinned from her shoulders, of the same soft fabric of her dress.

     "This is someone who the Capitol can cheer for. This is someone that the people can fear." Cassandra says. "Not a twin. Or a twelve-year-old girl." Cassandra holds her eyes. "You are the Wicked Wolfe from District 14, and you are ready to fight."

     She grabbed the wolf pendant at her neck, holding tightly to it as her lips curled upward in a wicked smile.

     She was the Wicked Wolfe.

***

Finnick Odair

     Finnick watched the girl step into the gymnasium and freeze like a rabbit. He would make fun of her, but he found himself frozen as well. The transformation of this year's youngest tribute was shocking; it took him a moment to process what he was seeing.

     Every other tribute had dressed in some fancy attire, with their hair and makeup done to make them either as handsome or as beautiful as possible. Everyone except her.

      Scarlet wore a black dress that wrapped around her body and clung to curves she shouldn't have but did. The bottom of her dress was a deep red, as if she walked through miles of blood to get here. It was unsettlingly fitting for the spirited little fiend.

     But what made her stand out in the sea of lavishly dressed attendees was the mask painted upon her face. In a room where everyone else had dressed to impress, she alone was unique. She looked exotic. Mysterious. Fierce.

     She looked like a Victor.

     His heartbeat sped faster. He had seen many tributes try to present themselves as fierce or intimidating, but there was something genuine about Scarlet's transformation. She wasn't just wearing a costume; she embodied it.

     A mixture of admiration and concern flooded him. He knew what it took to survive the Capitol's games, both inside and outside of the Arena. And her stylist had created something magnificent for Scarlet that he knew everyone here tonight would completely adore. But who a tribute was before the Hunger Games, was who they remained if they left the Arena alive. Was this who Scarlet wanted to be forever? Or just who she had to be to win the Games?

     Before he realized it, Finnick found himself walking across the large room. He called her name, but she didn't look at him. He sighed but found his lips curling anyways. There was a challenge in her defiance that he couldn't resist. She was one of only a few people who didn't fawn over him. The fact that Scarlet didn't seek him out or want his attention made every huff of amusement or genuine smile the sweetest kind of victory.

      He pressed a hand to the small of her back over the thin cape, feeling unorganized lined bumps against his hand. A corset? That would explain the curves she possessed. Finnick couldn't tell for sure though, just by touch, and the soft fabric of her long train flowing from her shoulders to the floor made it impossible for him to see.

     She turned her head and looked up at him.

     "Are you planning to stay right here the entire time?" He asked.

     "Actually, I was going to leave." She responded.

     He laughed. He could imagine that attending a party where socialization was the key to success would make her feel out of place. "You could, but I wouldn't recommend it." Finnick paused. "Unless you're scared of talking to a few Capitol citizens..."

    Scarlet narrowed her eyes at him, taking the bait and raising her chin defiantly. "I'm not scared of anything."

     Perfect. Finnick couldn't help but admire her spirit. "Perfect, then you won't mind."

     "Won't mind what?" she asked him suspiciously. Likely already regretting her broad statement. She wouldn't back down though, and that was something else that Finnick admired. Though being unwilling to admit fault or that a mistake had been made was something that would be sure to get her in trouble in the future.

     Finnick grinned, "joining me for a dance." He grabbed her hand, pulling her forward as he moved backwards toward the middle of the Training Center.

     "No—no, I—Finnick!" She whisper-shouted, but it was too late for her to get away unnoticed. Now that she was away from the door, everyone's eyes were on her.

     She knew it too, judging by the way her eyes flicked around for a moment before her death-filled gaze landed on him. There was something primal about her, something that made Finnick feel a strange mix of protectiveness and competitiveness.

     "Follow my lead." He said, as he spun her around, holding her hands high above her head before pulling her close to him. Scarlet stumbled into his chest, her hand grabbing his jacket tightly in her fingers. There was a vulnerability here between them, one that she likely didn't want anyone to see.

     Finnick placed his hand on her waist and let go of her hand for a moment, helping her straighten. He guided her hand to his shoulder and then took hold of her free hand once more.

     Scarlet stared up at him, some of her anger fading, replaced by her growing nerves. It was refreshing to know that Scarlet Wolfe was human after all. Up until now, Finnick had been beginning to think that she really wasn't scared of anything. But here, in this moment, she was just a girl, thrust into the lavish world of insatiable monsters.

     "Finnick...I can't—" her mouth clamped shut and he wanted desperately to know what she had stopped herself from saying. "I hate you, Finnick Odair." Was all that she finally said.

     For some reason, the point-blank statement caused a rush of heat to flood through his veins and Finnick almost tripped over his own feet. Her fingers tightened on his bicep, grounding him though, and he quickly recovered.

     He shook off the odd feelings that rose inside him and grinned down at her. "Just follow my lead, Little Wolf." He repeated softly.

     "If I follow your lead, we'll both end up sprawled out on the floor." she said, mocking his earlier clumsiness.

     "Most people would be begging for the opportunity to be sprawled out on the floor with me." The words were spat out automatically, without much thought, but they lacked the teasing nature he normally held, and sounded more bitter to his own ears.

     He drew in a breath and cleared his throat. "One dance, then all you'll have to do is sit and listen to Capitol men and women swoon over you for the rest of the night. Even you can do that much, right?"

     She took another look around the room, before meeting his eyes with resignation. "One dance."

     Her reluctant acquiesce to his request makes Finnick feel like he won a war, and he couldn't keep the smile off his face if he tried.

     He took a step on the second beat of the music, joining them seamlessly into the blend of the other dancers on the floor. Her dress swirled and swished along with them. Scarlet followed his lead perfectly; her eyes never left his. Her fingers never loosened their hold on his arm and his hand. There was something almost hypnotic about the way that she moved along with him in perfect synchrony.

     As the song wrapped up, he spun her once more before leading her to the edge of the dance floor and letting go of his hold on her. She stepped back, away from him. Now that they weren't on the dance floor, her earlier anger returned in full force.

     Her reaction wasn't unexpected. He had, after all, backed her into dancing with him, without a choice.

     All traces of vulnerability disappeared, and the fierce warrior that she had arrived as returned. Her mask falling back into place, hiding the girl she was from prying eyes.

     Finnick bowed his head to her and sent her a wink before walking away. He didn't look back as he walked away, but he couldn't help but admire her strength and determination. At twelve, no one expected her or Crimson to win. But maybe, just maybe, Finnick was beginning to believe.

     Maybe she could survive this ordeal and become more than just another tribute. Maybe she could win this year's Hunger Games and become a Victor.

***

Scarlet Wolfe

     Whatever Finnick's game was, Scarlet couldn't figure it out. Because he'd been telling the truth. Ever since she'd walked away from the dance floor after dancing with Finnick Odair, the Capitol guests just couldn't get enough of her. She didn't even have to open her mouth and they fawned over her. But mostly, they fawned over Finnick dancing with her.

     At one point, one of the women had asked if Scarlet was one of Finnick's lovers. Scarlet had set her straight with a sharp no followed by a glare. The woman hadn't even reacted to Scarlet's glare, too busy celebrating the possibility that he might choose her instead. Witnessing the woman's joy at wishing to be a mere—toy?—for Finnick's short-lived amusement made her a bit sick.

      Honestly, the thought of Finnick with any one of these Capitol women made stomach queasy.

     Scarlet wasn't a romantic in the slightest, and she didn't hold any idyllic notions about love or marriage, or even sex. In District 14, people married for the sole purpose of naming households and for the sake of legitimacy.

     It wasn't uncommon for a wedding to take place after a woman got pregnant. Hell, it wasn't uncommon for a wife to get pregnant when her husband was away trapping. No one ever said anything, since pregnant women get extra rations, and since most families were always starving and struggling, desperate for any extra support, it wasn't like they complained. Any child the wife had would be given her husband's name and raised in his home.

      She was only twelve and was aware of what sex entailed and that it led to having children. Scarlet had no intention of ever bringing a child into this world, and she had no interest in marrying, so she saw little point to the who ordeal. She'd much rather avoid the whole thing herself.

     Finnick was sixteen this year and of legal age to consent to anyone that suited his fancy, but what bothered her the most was the way that these women talked about him—the way he let his reputation be smeared and dragged through the mud. He was a Victor. And yet, the only thing these people wanted to talk about was how delicious he looked and how pretty he was and how green his eyes were and how they'd just melt if he were to ever smile in their direction.

     With doe eyes, they said his name with reverence, but it was as if Finnick was nothing but an object to them. Each one of them wanted to be able to brag to the others that they had been with him. Scarlet briefly wondered if Finnick cared about the way these people thought about him, or if he simply basked in the attention given to him.

     She discreetly looked across the room. Even though she hadn't looked at him since the end of their dance, she knew exactly where he was. Finnick was in the midst of a laugh, his head thrown back with a drink in hand. Completely comfortable. A woman pressed a hand to his chest and Finnick leaned closer to her, whispering something into her ear. The woman smiled, delighted by whatever had come out of his mouth.

     Scarlet looked away from the two, suddenly uncomfortable witnessing such a scene. If Finnick didn't like the way he was treated, then he could stop encouraging it. As far as she could see he ate up every scrap of attention that he got and baited them for more. Besides, nothing involving Finnick Odair was her problem or concern.

     Scarlet brought a glass to her lips that filled with a clear liquid that made her tongue thicken. Alcohol. She lowered the glass to her lap, not wanting it anymore as she tried to determine how long she had to remain here before she could leave.

     The ladies around her stopped talking and laughing as they stared at the man approaching in an extravagant black suit. He sat down next to Scarlet, leaving little room between them. She turned her smirk toward the man. Her eyes met his familiar glowing grey ones, and the smile fell off her face.

     Alistair Paine.

    "Ms. Wolfe, what a pleasure." His eyes were cold even though his words sounded nice and there was even a smile on his face as he spoke.

     "Wish I could say the same." Scarlet couldn't bring herself to say that it was a pleasure to see him again, seeing as the last time that she had seen him, she'd figuratively 'killed' him during the Individual Training Assessment, and currently she only wished he no longer existed within her relative vicinity.

     His smile only widened though, seemingly not bothered in the slightest by her lack of manners, but his eyes grew colder. Scarlet felt chilled to the bone under his intense gaze. And though Scarlet was used to the bitter cold of her home district, there was no comfort to be had in his presence.

    "Join me for a dance, Ms. Wolfe."

     Scarlet should say yes even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. Anyone else would say yes. He was a Gamemaker. He was obviously a powerful figure in the Capitol. And he would be at least partially responsible for the number that she received in the tribute assessment.

     But Scarlet didn't care at that moment though. She could no more accept his request for a dance than she could accept her death in the Arena.

     "No." She murmured, as she pulled away from him, standing. She stared down at him, feeling some sense of power returning to her. You are the wicked wolf. "I'm all done dancing tonight."

     "How unfortunate for me." His eyes flash, undermining his careful words, as his face hardens into a stone mask.

      "You'll live, Alistair Paine." Unfortunately for her.

      In an instant, his flaring temper cooled, and the easy smile returned to his face. "I see you remember my name still."

     A wicked smile spread over Scarlet's face as she looked down at him. "Of course. I always remember my victims."

     His eyes gleamed and his smile turned predatory. "What a coincidence, Ms. Wolfe." He stood up, forcing her to back up a few steps. Alistair Paine grabbed her hand and bowed down as he brough her hand to his lips. His eyes met hers as his lips pressed down on her skin. "So, do I."

     Scarlet pulled her hand away from him. She could feel the imprint of her lips on her skin as if he'd permanently marked her. She resisted the urge to rub her hand against her dress as she spun away from him without another word. Scarlet walked towards the side of the Training Center towards the closed door of the empty breakroom.

     Thankfully, the door was unlocked, and Scarlet sneaked her way inside, shutting the door firmly behind her. Alone and in the dimly lit room, she finally released the breath that she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.

     She rested her hands against the empty table and pulled in several deep breaths, trying to calm her rapid heartbeat.

     So, do I.

     His words tore around her mind as she slammed her hands down on the surface of the table. She wasn't his victim. She never would be. Scarlet was a Wolfe. A predator. She was strong. Unbreakable.

     But his eyes said differently.

     In his cold grey eyes lived a predator far stronger than her. Far older and far wiser. Far more powerful

     In his cold grey eyes was a promise of pain and blood.

     In his cold grey eyes was a promise that she would be his victim.

     A hand fell on her back. She whipped around, ready to strike but paused when she saw Crimson's face.

     "Are you okay, Scarlet?" He stared into her eyes.

     For the first time since they'd become the tributes of district 14, Crimson didn't look like he was playing an angle. For the first time in the past two days, Crimson didn't look angry or infuriated with her. Right now, he was just her brother.

      And she needed him.

     She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Tears fell down her face and her body shuddered against his. His arms wrapped around her back, holding her just as tightly as she held onto him.

     Scarlet opened her eyes, meeting sea-green ones from the open doorway of the breakroom.

     Without a word, Finnick closed the door, helping her yet again. She didn't understand his actions, but right now she didn't care.

     She turned away from the door and buried her face in her brother's neck.

     She wasn't unbreakable.

     She wasn't fierce.

     She wasn't okay.

     And now Finnick Odair knew that too.

---------------

So, real briefly, I want to reiterate something about Finnick and Scarlet's interactions. Scarlet is 12 and a tribute. Finnick is 16 and a Victor and Mentor. There is no romance happening between them. 

They are both feeling each other out and feel drawn to what they see and feel around each other. Scarlet is drawn to Finnick's charm and the feelings that he arouses within her. (Anger, humor, irritation, frustration, curiosity, confusion) 

Finnick is drawn to Scarlet's boldness. Her wildness. And her determination to stand out and to not conform to the social expectations that Finnick is forced to conform to. Even though Scarlet is not free (as she is a tribute on her way to the Arena) he sees a sort of freedom in her actions and words that he is drawn to.

We will see these feelings grow to build a foundation for their trust and friendship and from there, romance will bloom. 

I cannot wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter! 

Kindly remember to vote if you are enjoying this story!

Take care and stay safe! ~CANGEL