Chapter Text
Edelweiss: Leontopodium nivale, commonly called edelweiss is a mountain flower belonging to the daisy or sunflower family. It is non-toxic and has been used in traditional medicine. It symbolizes courage and devotion.
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Looking out the window, Prim did not even really see the landscapes of 12, those long streaks of green and blue blurred by the speed of the train. In a way, she was still in the town square, as if a part of her would always remain there. The reaping kept replaying in her head, like a broken record.
Her name, resonating grimly in the silent crowd. “Primrose Everdeen”, said with Effie’s sing-song voice, her strange Capitol accent. It was so absurd; it was so random. How unlucky did she have to be, really? Freshly twelve years old, and with Katniss always taking on the burden of buying tesserae. What were the odds? Not in her favor, that was for sure.
Prim wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. All the eyes were planted on her, kids she knew from school looking at her like she was a dead girl walking. She stepped away as everyone parted around her, as if being reaped was somehow a contagious disease. Her steps felt strangely slowed down, like she was walking in a dream. But then, she was on the stage, dressed in her best Sunday clothes.
And of course, emerging from the crowd, Katniss. Katniss who had dug dandelions out of the dirt just so Prim would not turn to bones and dust. Katniss who had learned to hunt, who had grown up so fast. Of course, she would volunteer. She had not even hesitated. She would bleed to death for Prim.
“No,” had said Prim into the microphone.
Prim could hear her voice so clearly, even now, even as she was ripped away from her home. That no, sobbed but firm, somehow. Why should Katniss die for her?
It was a whole scene; the kind of things District 12 had never seen before. Prim could have sworn Effie sounded excited as she dug some rules out of her pink jacket’s pocket. Long fingers with nails like sparkly claws unfolding the little paper, a paper that held her fate. Again. The mayor and Effie talked, there was a sense of urgency to the whole affair. But the rules were the rules. The reaped tribute’s decision overruled the volunteers. Prim had sealed her destiny with one little word.
Screams as Katniss was dragged away from the stage, blurry through her little sister’s tears. The rest was less clear in Prim’s mind. She remembered Effie exclaiming “The District 12 tributes, Primrose Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!”, but she didn’t know Peeta Mellark very well. All she knew was that he was big and tall, and much older than her. He had a strange look, when he turned to face her. She wasn’t sure what this look meant. He still had it now, sitting next to her on the train. Did he pity her? Perhaps he did.
But she was strangely calm.
Being reaped used to be her biggest fear. It had plagued her nightmares for months. And now that her worst fear had happened well… It was almost liberating. She didn’t feel like wallowing, and how could she? Katniss had offered her a way out, and she had refused. But that was good, because by doing that, by refusing to let her sister die for her, she had felt like she was taking charge of things. Her name being picked out of that bowl was so unlucky, so unfair. And yet, her being in this train was her doing in the end.
Haymitch fell on the chair next to her, pouring himself a glass of… something alcoholic? She didn’t know, but she could smell it from where she sat. A long sigh escaped his lips, and it smelled as bad as his drink. He looked older, somehow.
There was food everywhere on the table. Effie was busy describing all the incredible amenities the train had, the beautiful cabins, the delicious food, and how quickly it would take them to the Capitol. Prim glanced around, and yes, it was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. A part of her would have liked to not care about all of this, but the food lay before her looked almost ridiculously good. And she had decided not to wallow. So, she took a pastry covered in strawberries and little edible flowers, and she placed it on the porcelain plate already set in front of her.
“Excellent choice, Prim”, happily exclaimed Effie, who seemed to have taken an instant liking to the little duckling, perhaps because she seemed to have good manners, “it’s my favorite pastry too!”
“Thank you, Effie. Everything here looks really nice.”
“Doesn’t it? Oh, I am so happy to hear that! Usually, the tributes from your district don’t seem to appreciate how beautiful this train is! I mean, it’s such an exquisite taste of all the things the Capitol has to offer.”
Haymitch let out a strangled cough that seemed to have started as a bitter burst of laughter, only to crumble in his throat. “Sure thing, sweetheart, if you say so,” he grumbled, almost to himself.
The mood was grim, and even Effie’s cheerful voice fell a bit flat. Prim couldn’t help but feel bad for the escort. She wasn’t sure why. All this “exquisite taste” of the Capitol’s luxuries didn’t really change the fact that she was headed to the slaughterhouse. Still, she took a bite out of the pastry. It wasn’t something she could ever eat at home, and the taste was so delicate and incredible, she almost didn’t know how to react. The strawberry was ripe and juicy, the flowers added a little bit of earthiness, and the pastry was filled with a light, lemony cream. It made her sad, somehow.
Peeta glanced over the table, picked another pastry, and placed it on Prim’s plate. “You should try this, too. We made something a bit like that in the bakery, I think you’d like it. It has blueberries in it.” Prim loved blueberries, but she didn’t really get how Peeta could even know that. Or why he was giving her pastries. She looked at the little cake, and she looked at him. Was everyone being nice to her because she was doomed to die in the arena, or something?
“I’m fine, you know,” she lied.
“I never said you weren’t.”
“You’re giving me cake.”
“I think it’s good cake. You don’t like cake?”
Prim decided in this moment that Peeta Mellark was kind of an annoying boy. Nice, but annoying.
“I like cake,” she said, but the truth was, she had eaten cake maybe one time in her life, once upon a time when her mother was happy, “but it feels like you’re giving me cake because you’re think I’m going to die.”
A bleak, uncomfortable silence fell on the train. Even Haymitch looked like she had slapped him in the face. Peeta held her gaze, though he still had that strange look that made her feel like she was a sick old goat about to be slaughtered for meat. Well, they said her goat Lady was going to die, and Prim had taken care of her, and now she gave great milk!
“You don’t have to eat the cake,” finally said Peeta.
“It’s not about the cake.”
“No one said you were going to die,” chimed in Haymitch after an unsettlingly long sip of whatever alcohol he was drinking.
“So, you will help us?”
Prim felt like she had aged a thousand years. Maybe that was why she was being so level-headed, kind of when she helped her mom with patients. Yes, perhaps the arena was just like treating a sick patient. She just needed to find a solution, the right medication, and it would be alright. It certainly made her feel calmer. And besides, she didn’t want to cry in front of them. She’d wait to be in her cabin for that. She’d cry all night, if she wanted to (and she wanted to).
“It’s my job, isn’t it?” grimaced Haymitch between gritted teeth. Even Effie looked perfectly bamboozled by this turn of events. He was not known for being a great (nor sober) mentor.
“Why, I never thought I would see the day,” exclaimed Effie, fanning herself as if the mere sight of a motivated Haymitch could make her faint. Prim was a bit annoyed, actually, to see Haymitch suddenly so alert. This was the man who had almost thrown up on Effie at the reaping. Not exactly mentor of the year.
“You don’t think I’m going to die?” she asked again, unsure why she was being so insistent.
“Look, girl,” sighed Haymitch, brushing a hand over his red face, “you might die, yeah. It’s very likely. You’re 12. Your sister…”
“My sister could have won.”
“Maybe, yeah. But you wouldn’t let her volunteer, and now here you are.”
And now here she was.
“Why?” asked Peeta out of the blue, “why did you refuse?”
Prim looked at him. She thought about Katniss, how she would have probably replied something like ‘this is none of your business’, and it gave her a bit of courage. Strong Katniss. She missed her so much. She missed how protected she felt in her arms, like nothing could ever happen to her.
“I wanted to keep her safe.”