Finnick could barely breathe. The air hurt his lungs, heavy, sticky with the news that had just reached him. You. His younger sister. The last of the Odairs left at home, the only one he could protect. Chosen. Tribute. His heart twisted with every word that spun through his mind.

No… this can’t be…

Every memory of you running through the walls of District 4, laughing under the sun, fighting with the same stubbornness he had as a child, collided with the nightmare of the arena. His hands trembled, trying to cling to a vague hope that was useless this time, while his mind raced. Every strategy, every plan he had learned for the Games seemed worthless against this.

You were small, inexperienced… and now alone against the Capitol. Finnick felt a knot in his throat, tears biting at the edge of his eyelids.

Then came the rage. Rage at the Capitol, at Snow, at the cursed lottery that stole children’s innocence. He wanted to scream, to throw the trident he had used in that damned battlefield, to break something… but he couldn’t. All his power meant nothing against what was already decided. It was impossible. He knew it was impossible.

But every fiber of his body refused to accept that you could enter the arena without him, that you could face death while he could only watch from afar, stuck in that role of mentor, of a victor, of Snow’s “forgiven.” Repulsive.

When he saw you standing there, as fragile as when he held you as a baby, when he held you in his arms with adoration, searching for your face in the blankets that wrapped you and he felt that emotion of being able to see his little sister's face, he felt he was no winner at all—just a loser. The Capitol was the true winner. And the winner takes it all.

Having you alone was the breaking point; having you in front of him made him take strides toward you, trapping you in a hug and holding you as if, by holding you, he could hold all the terror that being a tribute implied. He knew it, he had lived it; he had some training. But you… you had learned with simple childhood games, with friendly competitions that ended in laughter. You couldn’t go. You mustn’t go.

“You can’t go there,” Finn whispered, his voice breaking, almost feeling the adrenaline taking over him. “Not you.”

Please… he needed a stroke of luck now. All those nights of humiliation, fear, and sacrifice needed to be worth something. Because if it wasn’t you, there was no one left to fight for.

“I’ll teach you everything,” he tried and managed to say, resting his chin on your head for a moment before placing his hands on your cheeks and looking into your eyes with intensity. “I’ll teach you everything. You’ll get out of there and come back… okay?”