The Lion and the Lamb

Disclaimer: I do not own Hunger Games. If I did, I probably wouldn't have killed off Cato.

Fair Warning: This story won't be about butterflies and sunshine, so the rating of M is there for a reason.

Song Suggestion: Naughty Boy- LALALA ft. Sam Smith. If you want another awesome version, check out the cover by Jasmine Thompson. Gives me chills Every. Time.

The Beginning of the End

She died. Katniss died.

Primrose Everdeen wasn't allowed to watch. Gale covered her eyes as soon as the standoff on the cornucopia began. But he forgot to cover her ears.

"Prim," Katniss gurgled. Then nothing. Just as simple as that, her sister vanished. Her strength, her love, her pride, all the memories she stored of her, gone in an instant.

Her mother screamed and moaned, and Gale's hands faltered in his own grief. Through the small peepholes in his fingers, Primrose saw everything she wished she hadn't. Katniss twisted backwards with her mouth gaping opened, a river of blood running from it, and her throat...it was slashed so hard, it was almost taken clean off. Peeta's body crumpled limp next to her sister's with a giant hole in his stomach. The mutants had eaten most of his face off.

The bile riled in her stomach.

Then she saw him, Cato- the monster-covered head to toe in his victims' blood, so bright it changed the color of his fair hair. Though it wasn't the blood that bothered her, she'd seen enough of that in the Seam. It was the smile, stretching from ear to ear. He enjoyed this, enjoyed the death of her sister, the one who gave everything only so Prim may live to see her get slaughtered. Katniss was no longer Prim's hero; she was her martyr, her very own personal sacrifice.

It was all The Monster's fault.

And for the first time in her short life, Primrose Everdeen hated.

Six months later

Prim glared in front of her, trying to stop the tears pricking at her eyes. The death was too fresh, and this was too soon to be facing her sister's murderer.

Cato stood on the stage of District 12's city hall, glowing golden under the bright lights. He was here on his victory tour, the last stop before returning to his own home among the other victors in his district.

No lights hung in the rafters, no chants followed him on stage, and no food waited for him after. They did clap when the team arrived on stage, per requirement, but it trailed off quickly. District 12 was sending him a stark message: he wasn't wanted. But from the looks of it, it didn't seem he wanted to be here either. Cato had been picking the underside of his nails for the last half hour, though she doubted his team of stylists would have allowed any dirt to get under them in the first place.

His mentor Brutus gave a brisk speech, each word ending with a growl in the back of his throat. Then his team came up, one by one detailing their excitement and strategies of victory. After his stylist sat down, it was Cato's turn for a speech.

For the first time, he glanced into the crowd. He gave an arrogant eye roll before standing and strutting to the microphone. Most of his speech was dull and contrived. He had a speech writer, outlining every single point, and he must have practiced until he had it perfect. But the contempt was hard to mask.

Prim had watched a few of his speeches in the other districts, and it went much the same way. First, he explained his strategies before going in, the excitement of the kill, the glory of the capitol. At the end of every speech, he would give a short recount about the competitors, focusing on the tributes from the district he spoke to.

This time it was no different.

"Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark were my toughest competitors. They made worthy rivals. Especially Katniss, she was the one opponent who surprised me. District 12 should be proud." He sneered when he said it.

That was the moment her mother started crying. For the past six months, her mother could barely get out of bed, and if it wasn't required under penalty for death for her to come, she wouldn't have even woken from her never-ending sleep. She was the walking dead: hair stringy and unkempt, skin sallow and sagging, eyes puffy and empty. The hollows in her cheeks thinned to paper. If it wasn't for the baker's kindness with free weekly bread, Gale's limited meat, and Lady's milk, the whole family would have crumpled. Primrose held on to her sanity, trying to stay afloat through taking care of her mother's patients. But it didn't seem to be enough.

Crying was dangerous.

Cato's head snapped up, looking into the crowd at the noise, giving a snarl of a grimace. The cameras followed his eyesight. Primrose tried to shush her mother, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Gale, take her out of here. Please, before the peacekeepers step in." Prim whispered so that no one could hear her.

Gale nodded. His knuckles had gripped the sides of his chair since Cato walked on stage. He loosened them, pulling her mother's head to rest on her shoulder and walked out before the authorities intervened. The families of the deceased tributes were supposed to act proud, to act happy, even in their devastating grief. Their family was no different from last years, or the ones before that. People gave limited sympathy, but most just looked forward to a new year of horrors with their own children in death's shadow.

Primrose looked back on stage. In Cato's place, the mayor frantically motioned to the crowd. Her mother's cry started a waterfall of boos and hisses, and he was trying to stop them before things got out of hand. The edges of the crowd pulsed forward.

"Now, now, let's give the victor the respect he deserves. The same respect we would have given to one of our own."

The crowd quieted down slowly. Primrose gulped. Similar things happened in the other districts. She heard this as a rumor. District eleven especially. The Hob sold news on their grapevine black market, though it wasn't always to be trusted. However, Prim heard it from several of her patients, and there was one overlying message: rebellion.

Because of Katniss, they say, or rather how she said goodbye to Rue. Apparently, Katniss was not only her martyr, but all of the districts.

On one hand, Prim desired rebellion, on the other hand, she feared President's Snow's reaction. Would he take it out on the source, would he take it out on district 12? The mayor must think so. This tour must be very important.

Sweat dripped down the Mayor's cheek as the situation got under control.

She searched out Cato. He lounged in a metal chair off to the side, legs spread. One of his arms draped across of the chair next to him. And he was looking right at her.

Prim recoiled at his glare. At her backwards movement, he tilted his head a little. His dark blue eyes narrowed into points.

Then he smiled… a sinister, hair-raising smile.

Later that Night

The snow crunched under her feet. She couldn't sleep so Prim decided to get out of bed to go feed Lady. The goat and the cat proved invaluable comfort and companionship in these dark days.

Katniss had built a tiny shed off to the side of the house for the pet to keep it protected from the elements a few months before the games. It came in handy, but the elements were already beating it down. Rot clung to dilapidated boards, and the structure creaked in the wind.

The air bit her skin. Winter came late this year, the fierceness just around the corner. Katniss hated the cold, but Prim loved it. There was something about the crisp air burning the lungs before rejuvenating it, a quick shot of energy.

It was as she neared the shed when she heard it. A similar crunch of snow came from behind her.

She pivoted on her heel. Not but ten feet from her, stood her nightmare.

"Boo," Cato smirked at her.

She tried to be brave, like Katniss, but her body jumped a little. Tremors wiggled through her body.

"Prim, Prim, Prim," he mocked. "Don't be so afraid."

"How do you know my name?" Prim didn't realize she was backing up, until her back hit the rotting wooden door with the leather handle.

Cato ignored her question. Instead, he surveyed her yard and her house, crinkling his nose in distaste.

"So this is where the great Katniss Everdeen grew up? What a shit hole."

Prim tried not to take offense from someone like him, but it still stung a bit.

"Why are you here and how did you find me?"

Cato looked startled out of his thoughts, though it was an obvious question. Against the bright white snow, his hair and skin shimmered.

"Curiosity," he shrugged, "your peacekeepers are corrupt enough to accept a bribe."

"Please leave," her voice shook, and it came out too quiet. She sounded like a little girl, weak and defenseless. She was a little girl, weak and defenseless.

"Your sister took my finger. Did you know that? You must've... I can no longer wield a sword easily. " He held up his right hand to show his pointer finger cut down to the joint. It must have been so bad the Capitol couldn't fix it. "I think it's only fair I take something just as valuable from her."

The crunch of his boots moved forward, until she was trapped between the shed and him. She tried to turn her head, whimpering a little, but he just gripped her chin between his fingers and forced her to look in his eyes. The pupils were restricted, allowing the blue to fleck brilliantly in the moonlight.

"Were they tears of joy? I bet not. I hope not."

She struggled against his hold. It clamped against her skin, and it hurt more than she allowed to show. It took a second for her to realize he spoke of her mother—he taunted her. She didn't want to answer, and she was too afraid to. Katniss would have spit in his face. Prim just began to cry. She hated the wetness on her cheeks.

"Let me go."

Cato brushed his free hand against her cheek, touching her tears.

"Prim, Prim, Prim... it's all I hear. Over and over again. It's all they ever play in the recaps. You're quite the celebrity."

The goat began to kick around in her pen. She must sense her master's terror. Prim used this moment to gather her courage. She swung her fist. It hit the side of his face with a dull thwack. Cato didn't look affected, though her wrist thrummed with pain. He snatched her wrist in its descent, turning it over to examine.

"So little and dainty. I don't know how you're related to your sister. She was a real bitch, you know. I wanted to slice her head off the minute I saw her. Who did she think she was, anyway? Some slum rat coming in to defeat me? Getting a fucking eleven…"

That made Prim cry a little. She sniffled back the worst of it, determined not to give the monster anymore satisfaction.

"You got what you wanted in the arena, didn't you? So why are you trying to hurt me?"

He just glared, gripping both her chin and her wrist until she cried out.

"Prim, Prim, Prim, little lovely Prim. The crowds loved your sister, so when I won, they hated me. All of Panem grieved her last word. She ruined my victory because of you."

Cato pushed her face against the rough grain of the wood. The hand moved from her chin to her throat. The fingers squeezed around her windpipe, cutting off all her oxygen.

"I wish I could kill you."

"Why don't you?" Prim sputtered out as best she could. In some ways, she wished he would. He stole so much for her, why not her life.

"The crowds still want my blood. They wanted one of the love birds to live, not me. President Snow warned me... he warned me that if I could not reign in the people and make them love me, then my life would become a sacrifice for them. So my mentor came up with a brilliant, if revolting, plan. Do you know what I will tell them for their love? "

This was the first she heard of this. She couldn't breathe anymore; she kicked her feet against the snow in panic. And then he let go. She dropped into the show, giving heaving lurches to return air to her lungs.

Cato squatted down, placing his weight against his ankles. He reached a hand out, and Prim flinched backwards, sobbing. But he didn't go for her throat; he flicked one of her braids as if a playful, caring older brother.

"You'll learn tomorrow. I think I'll let the suspense hurt a little."

Cato got up and walked back the way he came. Before he got too far, he turned and smirked back in Prim's direction.

"But I will tell you that it won't last. I promise you. As soon as the Capitol's memory of the Girl on Fire dies, as soon as your usefulness dies... so shall you." He waved goodbye with the stump of a finger.

Prim was left panting against the shed, splinters in her cheeks and buzzing with fear, dread, and pain.