Bloodied rose clutched in her hand, Dahlia staggered into District Five's apartments in a stunned daze. She had been operating on autopilot since leaving Snow's office, to the point where she wasn't actually sure how she'd managed to make it back. But she certainly wasn't expecting to find Alaric waiting for her in the living room with Mags and Finnick. She didn't even notice them at first, content to just collapse on her bed and overthink what the hell she'd just done. Until Finnick jumped up from his seat and nearly vaulted over the couch to reach her

"Lia." He coos softly, cupping her face with concerned eyes. "Are you alright, little flower?"

"Hmm?" Dahlia hums, her mind in a jumble until Finnick's thumbs smooth circles into her cheeks. "I'm fine, Finn."

Unconvinced by her answer, Finnick tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Where were you? I was worried."

Her heart flutters at the care and attention he shows her but she knew he'd worry even more if she told him where she'd been. Especially if she told him about the agreement they'd made. Shaking her head to dismiss his concerns, she sends him a weak smile. "Just taking a walk." Pulling away from his tender touch took all her strength, but she always found it difficult to lie to Finnick. "I'm not feeling very well, so I'm just gonna lie down."

"Alright." Finnick nods, deciding to give her space. "Let me know if you need anything."

A more genuine smile decorates her face this time as she brushes past. "I will."

Finnick turns to the others as Dahlia retreats to her room, barely noticing the rose slip from her fingers. Returning to the older Victors, he sinks down on the couch lost in thought.

"Maybe she caught a bug?" Alaric theorises, rubbing his bearded chin in contemplation.

Finnick shakes his head with furrowed brows, confidently stating, "She's lying." Alaric and Mags turn to the boy in surprise. He catches their bewildered stares and explains, "She can't stay still when she lies. Her feet were shuffling and she couldn't stop fiddling with something in her hands."

Realisation sinks in quickly and he's springing back on his feet like a jack-in-a-box. Following the direction Dahlia had left, his heart skips a beat at the item she had left behind. A flower so unlike the man iconic for wearing them. A white rose is supposed to represent purity, innocence and peace. Coriolanus Snow is corrupt, wicked and underhanded. But this rose was defiled by two drops of blood. His hands shake in anger, chest heaving with seething breaths. Whirling around, Finnick strides out of the room with a destination fixed in his mind. The two adults shout his name in astonishment but he pays them no mind.

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

"What deal did you offer her?" Finnick asks loudly, bursting through the doors of Snow's office.

The man is reclined comfortably in his chair with his hands folded across his stomach. He doesn't seem at all shocked by Finnick's sudden appearance. In fact, it seems as though the President had been expecting the visit. "I'm sorry, Mr Odair. I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific. I'm a very busy man, you see."

Slapping his hands on the desk, Finnick leans forward intimidatingly and growls out, "You know exactly what I'm talking about! Dahlia. What deal did you offer her?"

"That sort of information is strictly confidential." Snow retorts with a smug grin, enjoying the anger radiating off the boy growing by the second. "It's classified between Miss Blossom and myself. You understand, of course. Neither of us have spilled the details of our little arrangement afterall."

"I don't care about confidentiality." Finnick spits venomously, gripping the desk so tightly he's surprised it doesn't splinter and crack. "I care about her. What deal did you offer?"

Finnick desperately wants to slap the taunting smirk off Snow's face as soon as it appears. "We merely came to a mutual agreement which benefits both parties. I guarantee no harm shall come to her loved ones and Miss Blossom will... satisfy the desires of the Capitol."

Cursing loudly to himself, Finnick slams his fists against the mahogany desk and pushes himself backwards. His hands find their home tangled roughly in his hair, tugging at the roots in stress as he turns away from the patronising President. He yearns to direct his rage at the man responsible, but he knows that would be a death sentence. Dahlia had lost too many people to add his name to the list.

"You promised me." Finnick hisses, whipping round to face Snow once more. Pointing an accusatory finger, his glare burns daggers into the man's skull. "You gave your word that you wouldn't bring her into this!"

Snow leans forward on his desk and rests his chin on his conjoined hands. "I am a man of honour, Mr Odair." He states, unbothered by the sheer rage captured in Finnick's eyes. "And as a man of honour, I always stick to my word." Finnick watches the man carefully as his face morphs from smug to stern. Snow rises from his chair to return a scowl of his own back to the boy. "But when someone doesn't uphold their end of the deal, I am forced to take action and ensure they never step out of line again."

Finnick's resolve breaks as tears of despair fill his eyes. "I have done everything you asked of me! Visited every client! What more can I do to guarantee her safety? Tell me, please! And I will do it!"

"My boy," Snow chuckles in disbelief, stepping out from behind his desk. "I have eyes and ears everywhere. There is nothing, nowhere, you can hide from me." Finnick stands his ground as the Snow slowly stalks closer, like a predator closing in on prey. "Did you really think you could confide in your former mentor about your nightly routines and I wouldn't find out?" The penny drops quicker than an anchor in the waves of District Four. His face drops as the memory floods his mind with the force of a tsunami. He could never get anything past Mags. The woman instantly knew when something was wrong with the boy. She listened, comforted and allowed Finnick to sob for hours on her shoulder. But he had given Snow his word that no one would know. "Hmm. Evidently you did." Snow mumbles as Finnick's vision blurs with tears and the room starts to spin. "So you see, you broke one of our conditions... I merely returned the favour."

Filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt, Finnick feels genuinely broken for the first time in years. He had done this to her. It was his fault that she was now condemned to a life of misery. He could never forgive himself for this. This was his mistake and he needed to fix it.

"Whatever you want, I'll do it. " Finnick begs, his only priority being Dahlia's happiness. "Anything at all! Just leave her out of this, please, and I won't tell a soul. You have my word."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr Odair." Snow feigns sorrow as he strolls casually back to his desk. "You see, Miss Blossom and I sealed the agreement with our blood. This is a serious oath that neither one of us could possibly back out of." Finnick's head hangs low in despair and remorse as President Snow wears a malicious grin of delight. "And I no longer trust your word."

•——————•°•✿•°•——————•

Finnick Odair had always had confidence. It was a trait he never lacked even when he was a young boy. He was charming and endearing, which meant he was often used to getting what he wanted. That was how he was able to become the youngest Hunger Games Victor in history. People liked his looks and his personality, so they gave him what he wanted. But now the one thing he wanted, more than a trident in his hands, was the only thing out of his reach. It was the most selfless thing he'd ever longed for because it wasn't a practical item. But he would throw himself upon his own trident just to put a smile on Dahlia's face.

Returning to District Five's apartment with nothing gained but a melancholic ache in his chest, he'd never felt more useless. What was the use in having more money than he'd ever be able to spend, but not being able to buy happiness? Dejected and stricken with grief, his legs moved of their own free will and took him to the one place he could find peace in the Capitol.

Dahlia always had to have a light on when sleeping. It was a habit developed after her experiences in the Games. Waking up in darkness transported her back to the pitch black tunnels of her arena. She wasn't a heavy sleeper either. Always on edge and waiting for an attack that would never come. Therefore, Finnick always made sure to knock before entering, so Dahlia knew there wasn't a threat. A minuscule habit, but one that meant the world to her.

"Finn?" She whispers sleepily, rolling lazily onto her side as she stifled a yawn. "What's wrong?"

"I-- Can I--" As Finnick fumbled for the right words and tried to push through his quivering body, Dahlia immediately shot up in her bed. Finnick never stutters. Every word had a purpose and was meticulously planned. She just knew something was wrong.

"Come here, Finn." She urges softly, ushering the boy over to her bed. He didn't need to be told twice, padding across the floor as she threw the duvet open to welcome him. Pulling the covers down to cocoon the pair in, Finnick rested his head on Dahlia's chest as her arms were quick to envelop him in her warmth. It would've been a funny sight to see; the large muscular Victor curled up in the embrace of a petite girl. But anyone could see the contrasting beauty of the duo. Like the sun had found its home in the dark night sky. An unusual pairing, but one that just seemed so right.

Finnick found heaven in Dahlia's arms. Better than the feeling of returning home to District Four after a long stint in the Capitol. Better than hearing the crash of the waves as they smash into the rocks. Better than the salty sea air clearing the smog of Panem from his lungs. Her fingers combing through his hair felt more comforting than the harsh wind blown off the water. Her steady heartbeat, the most enchanting melody that had ever blessed his ears. This was who he had betrayed.

"What's wrong, Finn?" Her sweet voice asked, laced with concern he felt he didn't deserve. Her dark eyes peering down at him like he was staring into the deepest depths of an ocean he would gladly drown in. How could he possibly tell her?