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thewordswewrite · 2 years ago

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The Drought of an Ocean

Chapter 11 - Rings Like Gold

Pairing | Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Story Summary | Finnick Odair was the youngest victor to ever win the Hunger Games but that didn’t earn him respect as a mentor, at least not until she came along. When a dejected volunteer from District 4 puts her life on the line, Finnick will do anything he can to protect her.

Chapter Summary | A new development from Snow puts Finnick and his victor in a tough situation

Chapter Warnings | canon typical violence, nonexplicit forced prostitution, mentions/situations of sexualizing minors, anxiety inducing situations, explicit language, mentions of suicide

W/C | 3.2k

Taglist | @lem0ns77 @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @curlycarley @bela-nov @lilylovelyxo @jaydiann @shynypeacekitten @dd122004dd @jyessaminereads @aquawhore420 @qallaghereid @bazzaza @zulpix-blog

A/N | guys we’re just ruining these people’s livessss fr sorry not sorry-Smoe

Donations | Link

|Masterlist|

As the party continued on into the night, the girl faithfully followed Sagan to the point of nearly cowering behind them as they descended further into the depths of the palace. Without Finnick by her side, she was vulnerable to the touches and offers of the partygoers, Sagan clueless to the fact that one might be made uncomfortable by this type of behavior; they meant well but ultimately, they were one of them.

She had seen the first glimpses of Finnick acting like himself when he had snuck away, finding something more important than her safety, than her to occupy his night. The idea of heading back home and never having to see him in more than a passing glance and mentor-related events was becoming more and more appealing. What had he really done for her anyway? She had been the one to impress the judges during training, to get in with the career pack and to fight her way out of that arena. Even with the unfortunate implications that had come from her interviews, she had clearly made an impression in the Capitol given she received a sponsor in her biggest time of need. If anything, Finnick’s presence in her life only made things far more complicated than they needed to be.

“Is the party almost over?” She asked Sagan as they pulled her along hand in hand, “Finnick’s gone and I just want to go home.”

“Over? Darling, it’s barely begun,” Sagan gasped. “You’re the star here. If you go now…well, I suppose it will continue on but at least stay for the fireworks!”

“Fireworks?”

“Exactly! You simply must see them.” As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was intrigued. At the very least, she had heard rumblings of the President’s speech and the grand presentation being imminent so it wouldn’t be an impossible task to wait a bit longer.

They were mingling for a little while longer when out of the corner of her eye, the girl saw a peacekeeper approach Sagan. She excused herself from the conversation she was in, in favor of finding a larger crowd to hide amongst. It was no use however, as her escort and the armed guard were by her side in minutes. When a leather gloved hand wrapped around her upper arm, she tried to escape the bruising grip but Sagan stepped in before she could start an altercation.

“It seems you’re a very lucky girl tonight. A private audience with President Snow awaits you!” Sagan said the words pointedly, knowing the girl well enough to urge her to calm herself before things escalated. “Go on now. I’ll be right here waiting to hear all about it!”

She eased in the guard’s grasp as he led her towards the other man from his post. With the two of them behind her, they corralled her up the grand staircase to the top floor. The dark wooded hallway loomed around her, seeming to go on for miles with different doors. The guards led her to one at the end of the hall, marked in its importance by a wide set of double doors. The two of them took their new position, one on each wall as she looked at them for some indication as to what she should do but their masked faces revealed nothing. She stepped up to the door and before she could reach out a hand to knock, it opened, revealing a familiar face.

“Finnick, what’s going on?”

Her eyes darted from Finnick’s wide blown ones to Snow’s narrow gaze.

“Ah, and here’s our victor now,” Snow announced with a gesture of presentation, the room eerily silent beyond those words. Finnick’s mouth was agape as he stared at her, failing to form any sound. His eyes glanced between her and the door as if he was thinking of making an escape. The President cleared his throat. “Please have a seat, my dear. I’ll formally extend my congratulations in a moment but first, Finnick has something he wanted to say. Don’t you, Finnick?”

She took the finely upholstered seat in front of the President’s desk, sitting awkwardly stiff. It was impossible not to feel as if she had walked in on something she wasn’t supposed to be a part of, the air in the room cold and tense. She was angled towards Finnick, eyes moving from the President to her mentor as he practically shook in his stance.

In a moment there was a burst of words from Finnick, rushing out of his mouth where there were none before, “You have to understand I didn’t mean for this to happen this way, there was nothing I could–”

The frantic quality of his expulsion and no doubt the volume caused the peacekeepers to step towards him, hands on their weapons but Snow must have anticipated the reaction for he stopped all three of the men with a tut.

“There’s no need for that, my boy,” The President sighed, turning to her to add, “He’s simply overexcited. Of course, Mr. Odair has taken a special interest in you and as a gift for him, I’ve approved your arrangements.” With the frigid air in the room, she was breaking into a cold sweat, a pit in her stomach growing larger by the minute.

“Arrangements?”

“Finnick, would you like to try that again?” Snow ‘asked’ though it was clear from the look on Finnick’s face that he had no choice. He pulled something out from behind his back that she couldn’t make out but if he wasn’t careful, his shaking hands would surely drop it. With his head pointed down towards the floor, he inched closer to her. His hand made to present the item in his possession to her but the President interrupted before she could catch a glimpse. “Now, now, be a gentleman and do it properly.”

Stinging hot tears sprang to her eyes as she watched Finnick get down on one knee, shaking her head before he revealed the piece of jewelry in his hand. In his palm sat a pearl ring, glittering stones around it forming the shape of a seashell. Finnick’s eyebrows were deeply furrowed, the lines of his frown mirroring the anguish that she too felt. Her vision was blurred by unfallen tears as she looked to Snow who nodded with a ‘go on’ gesture. There was no refusing, no running or fighting to be had; this was inevitable, it was this or death.

She nodded along in time with Snow, turning back to Finnick as silent tears traveled down her face. Grabbing her hand with his own, she flinched at Finnick’s touch briefly before relinquishing, allowing him to slide the ring onto her finger.

Finnick stood up, using her hand as leverage before she yanked her hand out of his. They turned to Snow expectantly, their next move unclear, the rest of their lives essentially up to the man in front of them. She felt the years slip through her fingers, her life already carved in stone. A cold dread traveled her entire body.

Snow cleared his throat and stood to attention, “I believe it’s time for my speech. Join me, would you?” She could feel Finnick’s gaze on her but she didn’t dare turn to him, resolving to deal with him later. If it weren’t for the President, for the armed guards, she might’ve thought it in her best interest to fight her way out. Though, her instinct for self preservation was dwindling by the minute.

The peacekeepers led the three of them out onto the balcony, her and Finnick flanking the President on either side. The room having been void of life had not prepared her for the thousands of eyes on her in an instant. Seeming to go on for miles, the estate stood in its entirety in front of them, the Capitols citizens cheering as a spotlight fell onto her and the two men. She attempted to shield her eyes from the light as Snow began to speak.

“Greetings, everyone,” The president’s voice boomed from next to her, echoing across the courtyard, “I know many of you have been anticipating the return of a fine young victor to our Capitol and tonight, I would like to formally introduce you to our very own Pearl, our 70th victor of the annual Hunger Games!” The crowd roared appropriately, a sound she had come accustomed to. Snow raised a single hand with a rehearsed grandeur and not an ounce of force, yet still the audience was immediately silenced.

“But it seems good fortune has fallen upon us. On this, the last day of her tour, I am most honored to announce the engagement of our newest victor to none other than our very own, Finnick Odair.”

No interview, speech or appearance had prepared her for the uproarious response of the Capitol citizens. People were cheering, hugging, crying. They had not cared so much for her safe return home, for her very life and yet they stood beneath her as though this was the greatest news they had ever heard: the end of her freedom.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Finnick smiling and waving as though they were truly some happy couple, as though he weren’t essentially her captor. The lights around her were blurring together as she became dizzy with anger. She imagined joylessly the reality in which she could tell the truth, cry out for help, the reality in which one of these people would notice even a piece of the corruption that their lives were built on.

An explosion of both sound and light painted the sky above sending her into a panic. She looked around wildly for the source until on her other side, the process repeated, this time a cerulean shadow cast itself over the crowd. Before she could understand what she was seeing, Snow was making his closing remarks and the peacekeepers were leading them back inside.

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness and a hot putrid breath was on her ear, “We’ll be seeing each other soon, my dear. We’ve things yet to be discussed.” The doors were shut behind her without another word, leaving her alone with her fraudulent fiance. Finnick was already walking down the hall, not checking behind him to see if she would even follow but follow she did. When they made it to the stairs, he was running his hand through his hair, the other hand flailing as he spouted excuses.

“Listen, I’m going to get us–”

She didn’t take any time to listen, the object of her rage before her. With a strangled shout and all her strength, she shoved him. Despite her attempt to fully disarm him, she watched as he stumbled down about half the steps before regaining his composure.

“Hey! Listen to me-” She ignored him, stomping down the steps and trying to attack him again. She couldn’t think, her vision completely red and filled with the man who stole her future.

“This is all your fault!” She screamed, still shoving at his chest. In their struggle, they had unknowingly found themselves at the bottom of the stairs from which she could now hear onlookers whispering around them. She made to hit him still, unbothered by the crowd for she had nothing to lose but he stopped her, grabbing her forearms with bruising strength as she grappled against him.

“We can’t do this, not here,” Finnick hissed through his teeth for only her to hear. She was inconsolable, her only objective being to make him feel her pain. Though she held her own, he was undoubtedly stronger, years of training behind him and he stood, hoisting her up along the way. Her arms now free, she made for another strike but he had already snaked an arm around her waist, throwing her over his shoulder before she could make another move. She pounded his back with her fists but he did not relent.

As always, Finnick performed for his audience, leaving the room with a charming explanation and wink.

“She’s just so eager to get home and celebrate!”

・・・Ψ・・・

Finnick was splayed across the cushioned bench of an unmoving train, contemplating the life he had not even months before and the life that was unfolding in front of him like some child’s picture book though rather than a fairytale, it was the kind of story parents used to scare their kids into good behavior. It wasn’t as though he had any big plans for himself–he always knew his life belonged to the President–but at the very least he had hoped for the comfort of routine, some semblance of peace. Now he was responsible for another person’s life, another person who could be used as leverage against him and if she had anyone in her life, that also traced back to him; it was wave after wave, distending until they would inevitably drown him.

On top of that, he knew the girl would not make any transition easy, having shown him exactly how she felt the night before when she had attacked him with a bloodlust he hadn’t even seen her break out in the arena. Still, he held out hope that she would come to understand that though unfair, this was the safest option for both of them. If he was being honest, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at being free from having to give up his body to strangers, to put on a mask that was becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish from himself; he had spared her from that and surely that was something to be grateful for.

“Any word on your…fiancee’s arrival?” Sagan asked gingerly, sneaking glances at the window above him. They had been despondent since the party, he figured for feeling scorned having not heard about their ‘engagement’ before the rest of the Capitol. “The conductor is getting antsy.”

“She’s on the President’s time. She’ll be back when he sees fit,” Finnick sighed, an arm slung over his eyes. Peeking over his elbow, he could see Sagan scoff before stomping off, their heels only making a dramatic thud on the carpeted floor of the traincar. He wanted her back more than anyone, he wanted to get home more than anyone but of course, Snow came first.

The anticipation was killing him, worsened by the fact that he was not there to refute or explain away Snow’s words. Whatever the President was telling her, he was sure it painted him in a bad light and life would be easier for all of them if he could for once find himself in her good graces. He cursed the day they had laid eyes on eachother, wishing Mags had been there to guide her through, the distaste the girl likely still would have had for him only leaving him more determined for the next year.

The sun had nearly set when the doors to the main car slid open, Finnick’s heavy lidded eyes opening with a snap. He bolted upright, smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes as she stepped in. Once she laid slitted eyes on him, she purposefully made her way towards the next car but on unsteady legs he dashed after her, stopping her with an arm wrapped around her middle.

“We can’t not talk about this,” He grunted, “It’s not just going to go away if we ignore it.” She slipped out of his relaxed grasp with ease but he had already whirled around, putting himself between her and the doors.

“Get the fuck away from me,” She seethed. He swallowed the anger that she so specially drew out from him, shaking his head with a deep breath.

“What did he say? If I could just explain–”

“Oh, he explained everything. You’re disgusting,” She hissed lowly, regarding him as if she couldn’t stand to be in his presence. He reeled back as though she had hit him and Finnick considered that he might have preferred that to such blatant contempt. Couldn't she understand that it wasn’t his choice?

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

Finnick felt a deep shame well within him. Maybe in another life he would still sleep around but it wasn’t that part, the promiscuity, that bothered him, it was the lack of control over his own body that made him feel ill, feel disgusting. He had never uttered to another person the truth of his situation, the sale of him as a commodity by their own President, their valiant leader. This was just another thing that Snow had taken from him: the ownership of his own truth.

“Snow went on about how he ‘owed you for your…loyalty.’” Her face was twisted in genuine disdain. The implications of what his loyalty entailed made his face flush in humiliation. A long silence fell between them as he tried to regain his composure. It was broken, however, when a gasp rang out from the other side of the room.

“There you are!” Sagan gushed, rushing over to the pair. “Well, now that the two of you are here let me just say congratulations! Snow’s announcement last night was quite…sudden. I certainly never would have expected it.” A smile was plastered on their face so widely it looked as though it might crack. At that, his girl groaned and used the distraction to slip away. Finnick shot Sagan a ‘what can you do’ kind of grin and followed after her.

“Hey,” Finnick called after her, taking quick strides to follow her through the cars. He managed to grab her upper arm and her attention with a firm, “Hey.”

She whipped her head back to look at him, her jaw clenched. He took a quick scan of the surroundings and pulled her into a spare bedroom, shutting the door after them.

“Listen,” Finnick began, “I’m sorry, okay? But this–” he gestured vaguely between them, unwilling to put it to words, “this is the reality now. I would take this all back if I could but if he really told you everything, then you know this is for the best.”

“What do you know-”

“Enough. I am speaking now.” She didn’t cower in front of him, nothing even close, but she dignified him with her silence, her head tipped back. “Snow doesn’t take things like this lightly. If we don’t play along–and we’re going to play along–he won’t hesitate to get rid of us the same way he gets rid of everyone but he’ll break you down first, make you wish for it. He’ll start with the ones you love.”

She laughed cruelly, “I don’t have anyone that I love.”

“Well, I do,” Finnick bit back, “So whatever Snow’s idea of a happy couple is, that’s what we’re going to be. End of story.” Her bottom lip trembled but she kept that sardonic grin that made his blood boil.

“You’re a sick man, Finnick Odair,” She scorned.

“Maybe so,” He offered with a grin that mirrored her venom, “but we’re in the real games now and I won’t lose.”

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finelyageddragons · 1 year ago

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Currently in love with the relationship between the Grey Wardens and being doomed by the narrative, especially with how the HOF subverts that relationship so here's a 3am rant about it. Enjoy! The wardens are ghosts. They are born by letting go of everything you had before and drinking poison to bind your fate to the darkspawn and promise that your life and perhaps more importantly, your death belongs to them. The whole joining is a terrifying experience, you're drinking the blood of monsters and seeing a corrupt god in your mind and waking up to see those who died around you and being told you'll meet the same fate soon enough you've just been given more time to get there because to sacrifice, to die is a warden's purpose. Even if you survive becoming a warden, your best case scenario is sacrificing yourself to end the blight but it's far more likely you'll die fighting darkspawn or even more likely lose your mind and have to go to the deep roads to be lost and have your death be your last act of defiance in the face of this overwhelming wave of evil waiting to rise again. The best thing that can happen to a warden is to die in a meaningful way because you gave away your life the moment you drank that blood. All you are now is a soldier waiting to die in war and hopefully take the enemy down with you. It is tragic and haunting and noble and so full of grief. Grief for the live you gave behind and for the one you'll never have. Every warden spends every day of their life hoping not for a future or any life for themselves but simply to make their death mean something which is an incredibly interesting mental state and I could go on about how that effects individuals and messes with their values so that corruption is rife but what started this whole thing is Fereldan.

A wonderful post by @sapphim (which I don't know how to cite but I wanna give credit so if there's a way please tell me) discussed how beneficial it was for the wardens that the fifth blight occured in Fereldan and how much they lost by it being solved so soon. To put it simply, they wanted to sacrifice Fereldan as a lost cause and use it as an example of why they wardens shouldn't be neglected. They wanted it to be known of how much of a sacrifice they make an how important their duty by letting the country of Fereldan be an example of what happens when no one is there to do it and that the narrative has doomed everyone, that the world's crimes will be paid for unless someone is willing to be selfless and bear the burden to give the world another chance. Andraste would have been a great warden I'm sure. In the eyes of the warden, Fereldan is tainted just like their blood, it is promised to the darkspawn just like they are, willingly or not it bears the duty that all wardens do and must make the sacrifice they do too. For the greater good. To stop the darkspawn. It's better you having a death that matters than a life that lasts. This is the psychology of the wardens and they are applying those same beliefs to all of Fereldan. Why must they be the only ones doomed by the narrative? There is no surviving this story and there is saving the world there is only killing the darkspawn before it kills you. Thedas is at war with the archdemons and until they're all dead, there is no peace, there is only preparing for the next battle. There is no building a life, no building a country, there is nothing to protect because it is all doomed.

The way duty and sacrifice and the promise of the Grey Wardens must alter their values and perspective on life is fascinating and there is so much to explore here but what's important for this post is that the foundation of their entire order is that they are already dead.

This then brings us to the HOF and cheating death. Duncan is like the grim reaper in Origins the way he comes and snatches your soul at the end of each origin which I honestly love and it ties in so well to the idea that wardens are ghosts given you die in every other version of the story without him but that's the story of all wardens. They all die a symbolic death at the joining so that's okay but then Ostogar happens. Flemeth happens. You should have died. Fereldan should have been lost. Remember, the duty of the wardens is dying not surviving but you did survive, snatched away by a god. Every other warden has died thinking their paying the price for an absent god yet this goddess not only favours you, she changed fate for you. Every other warden throughout history has paid the price but not you. Not Fereldan. You get to cheat the fate while it dooms everyone else. Can you imagine how that must have felt for the other wardens? How much they must hate the hero for stealing the martyr Fereldan was set to be and making all their losses naught but a tragedy when it could have been so much more? Not only did you escape your own death but you stole the value of theirs. You survived which goes against everything the wardens are made for.

Going even further than that, you have the dark ritual where you can actively choose to cheat death again. When every other warden has had to give their life, had to sacrifice and lose and grieve and poison their humanity as they did their bodies, you get to escape it all. Wardens have struggled for decades to have a foothold in Fereldan but you'll go so far as to choose their ruler for them without any consultation. You have been a warden less than a year, ended a battle that they prepared for over hundreds of years and sacrificed more hundreds of years fighting in the past and not only have you defied everything they defined themselves by, you have made them look like fools and decided their fate for them. You have stolen the meaning of the death of every warden, you have stolen their martyrs and the justifications for their actions and by keeping your own life and humanity, by resisting their poison you have made them all look like monsters.

The hero was doomed by the narrative as all wardens are but they rewrote fate, they stole their life back so many times and by surviving, they created a whole new narrative that ruined everything the wardens were built upon. The wardens were made to be ghosts, not heroes. They're meant to die and be remembered nobly so they can be redeemed for they had to do to get there but not you hero. You get to shame us all, don't you?

#I have work in like 5 hours but it is my duty to share my madness with you all #UGH I need to make more warden OCs #I can't fix him but I can become equally corrupt by his side #There are so many ideas in here I can't wait to elaborate on over the next few days/weeks/lifetime #Anyway good night y'all #Also hi Saph it was me thank you for encouraging this #Got a good grade in anon something both normal to want and possible to achieve #GOODNIGHT #dragon age origins #dragon age #ramblings #grey wardens #doomed by the narrative #idk how to tag things but I hope people see this I want to hear ideas #Rubbing my hands together and giggling like a goblin thinking of all the potential warden content #I'M GOING TO BED NOW BYE BYE

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