"She can't be allowed to stay." No names had been given, but everyone knew whom the head of the District Council was talking about. There was a moment of silence, before nods of agreement. They'd all known it was coming since this anomalous girl had been brought to their attention.
"We can't simply kick her out," a member of the Council objected. "She hasn't broken any of our rules. It would cause a rebellion." The new factor silenced the Council again. While it was true, she couldn't be allowed to stay; she was too different, a bad influence of the rest of the Careers.
Yet another member of the Council spoke up. "Well, then she'll have to be our Tribute for this year's Hunger Games. She'll never come out of it alive." The Council nodded in agreement, and the head of the Council spoke up.
"Then it is agreed. She will represent District 2 at the next Hunger Games. This meeting is hereby adjourned."
As they filed out of the large room, a member of the Council lingered for a moment, feeling guilty. This member was also the principal of the only school they had in District 2, the one where all the youths went to learn how to win the Hunger Games.
He sighed, feeling bad for the girl who they had just sentenced to death. It wasn't her fault, really. She was a brilliant warrior, excellent with every weapon, agile and fast… except for her apparent inability to kill.
Oh, she could kill animals. She was an excellent hunter, often putting meat on her family's table, such as deer and rabbit. But when it came to killing another person… He could still remember the first time they'd put her in a combat arena. She'd managed to pin her opponent, a girl older and larger than her, in a matter of minutes, and had been about to deal the killing strike, when… she'd stopped. Just dropped her knife and backed away.
Confused, the other girl had just lain there, reeling from her ordeal, relief at being spared warring with humiliation that she'd lost so fast, and so badly, to a girl younger and smaller than her.
The confused spectators were silent, before a buzzing started up, people wondering why she had suddenly stopped. The referee stood up and called a halt to the fight, and Rosalie, the girl who'd dropped the knife, ducked out of the ring, trembling.
It was just nerves, everyone had said. Some people got like that during the first few battles, girls especially. She would be fine for the next battle. No one wanted to even think about the possibility that the prodigy they'd produced, the one they'd said was a sure winner of the Hunger Games, didn't have the killing drive necessary to be their pride.
But then she'd come into his office the next day, looking small and lost and broken, and told him that she wanted to leave the academy. She didn't want to have to kill other people, she'd told him, and given him a chilling description of how she'd felt as she looked into the eyes of the other girl, and seen the certainty that she was going to die at Rosalie's hand.
"And I… I couldn't do it," she finished, whispering the last part. "I can't kill." Her hands twisted anxiously in her lap as she waited for his response.
And he'd panicked. How could this have happened? Running on autopilot, he'd convinced her to stay in the academy until she graduated, promised that he wouldn't put her in any more battles as long as she maintained her form.
When she'd left, relieved, he'd immediately gone to the Council to tell them, knowing even as he'd done so that he'd signed her death sentence. There was no way that the Council would let her live here; she was a liability to them and their reputation.
But he hadn't known what else to do, so he'd done the "right" thing, and in doing so, had sentenced his baby girl to death, or at the very least, exile.
To this day, he didn't understand why he'd done that so many years ago. But he'd just been so angry, lost and humiliated, that his youngest daughter couldn't – wouldn't - kill, and now that he'd done it, he couldn't undo it. Of course, the head of the Council had praised him, saying he was thinking for the good of the District, that he was a fair leader, and he'd soaked it all in, thinking that they were right – Oh, God, how stupid he'd been.
He walked home slowly, the guilt weighing down on him. When he opened the door, the aroma of delicious stew, mixed with chocolate chip cookies, greeted him. Rosalie hurried out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Good evening, Daddy!" she greeted with a smile, hugging him tightly. "Dinner will be ready soon," she told him as she held his hand affectionately and led him to the table.
"Good evening, Rose," he replied mechanically as he followed her obediently. When he was seated, she disappeared back into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she walked out, carrying the pot of stew in one hand and a plate full of fresh rolls in the other. Her older sister, Lily, followed behind her, cleaning her hands off on her apron.
"Lily made the rolls," Rosalie explained as she set the food down on the table, leaving him marveling at her strength. She was easily the best warrior at the academy, his pride and his joy, except for the silly abhorrence she had towards killing.
Still, he had to admit, that abhorrence made her a much sweeter person than most other people in the District. In fact, she was arguably the nicest person in District Two. She did have good genetics; he'd won the 48th Hunger Games when he was fifteen, and her mother had won the 51st Hunger Games when she was sixteen.
So it perplexed him that the two of them could produce a child incapable of killing.
Not noticing his mood, she went to call the other members of their family to the dining table. Her mother and two older brothers, Caleb and Eric, came to the table as she yelled for them. Caleb, at the age of twenty-two, had was the victor of the 68th Hunger Games, having volunteered at the age of sixteen.
Still, you wouldn't have known it from his easygoing demeanor, as he kissed Rosalie on the forehead and messed up her braid, commenting "That smells good, Rose," as he sat down. Rosalie glared at him as she tried to put her braid to rights without re-doing it.
Eric, who had passed the eligible age to enter the Hunger Games at nineteen, laughed and agreed. "You've always been able to cook so much better than Mom has," he told her.
"Hey, what about me!" Lily protested. At twenty, she was a fine warrior, quietly confident in her abilities but never feeling the need to prove herself in the Games.
At the same time, their mother showed up and punched her younger son in the head. "I heard that!" she chastised, not worrying that he was groaning in pain because she knew her children were all sturdier than that.
On any other night, his family's antics would have made him laugh. They never failed to cheer him up, no matter how bad his day had been. But tonight it just made his mood all the fouler, because he knew this wasn't going to last. Rosalie, his sweet little girl, would be gone, their family dynamics altered forever.
"How was your day, Daddy?" Rosalie asked in her lilting voice, smiling at him. This was how dinner at their house always went; she would start the ball rolling by asking him how his day went, then everyone would share in turn. He loved this routine. He was pretty sure that his was the only family that practiced this routine, and it made their family so much closer as a result.
"Well, not very interesting. Had a meeting with the Council," he said nonchalantly, hiding his guilt. She grinned at him and the banter and teasing started up again. Right now, with everything so perfect, he could almost forget that Rosalie would be gone from them soon. Almost. But not quite.
Rosalie was worried about her father. Something was wrong with him, and she could sense it. There was nothing markedly different about him, but he seemed to smile less, and he hadn't laughed at all since he'd come back.
She wondered if it was something that had happened at the Council meeting, or if it was just that the lottery for the Games' tributes were coming up soon. She wasn't worried; she knew that many people were itching to participate in the Games, and they likely wouldn't even hold a lottery.
She knew her family was concerned and perplexed over her apparent inability to kill anyone, but she couldn't bring herself to take another human life. Even the thought of it made her shudder. Killing animals was bad enough, when she used her bow and arrow. Every time she took a life, she prayed for it, feeling terrible as she felt the life bleed out of the poor animal, and she never hunted any more than she had to.
When dinner was over, she collected the dishes and put them into the sink. It was the tradition in her family that the girls would make dinner, and then the boys would clean up. Many dishes had been broken due to this tradition, but no one except the boys would allow for a change.
When she was done, she quickly washed up and went over to Cato's house to see him. She practically skipped all the way there, anticipating seeing him again, although she'd seen him barely a few hours ago at school.
His mother smiled at her when she opened the door. "He's in his room, dear," she told her. Rosalie smiled and said her thanks as she ran up to his room, opening the door without knocking.
Cato was propped up against his pillows, wearing only his boxer shorts and reading a magazine – one of the luxuries afforded them by the Capitol. When he saw her, he grinned and palmed his crotch. "Hey babe, wanna fuck?" he asked lewdly.
She rolled her eyes and scooted onto the bed next to him, snuggling against him while she made herself comfortable. She ignored his comment. "I'm worried about Daddy," she told him. "He seemed out of sorts just now at dinner." He wrapped one arm around her and pulled her closer to him. "He's probably just worried about the Reaping," he told her as he tugged on her braid gently.
She gave him a mock glare as she pulled her braid from his hand. "First Eric and now you, I swear it's like my hair has a man magnet," she grumbled. He chuckled. "I'm pretty sure there are other parts of you that are man magnets, but I don't think it's your hair and I highly doubt that your brother would be attracted to them."
She thumped her fist on his chest lightly, and they went back to talking about the Reaping. She told him that she worried she'd be selected, and he scoffed. "Clove will volunteer to go, and you know it," he told her. "She's been champing at the bit for the longest time. I wouldn't worry about it if I was you," he assured her.
Clove was a girl in the District. The same age as Cato and a year older than Rosalie, her sadistic and battle-hungry nature made her a prime candidate for a Victor of the Games. "I guess," she said and snuggled closer to Cato, closing her eyes in contentment.
They often fell asleep together this way. More nights than not, Rosalie came over to Cato's place, and she almost always fell asleep next to her. He'd told her, albeit in a much less refined way, that she was so adorable that he could never bear to wake her up, and so they often woke up together.
The first time it had happened, Rosalie's parents had been frantic, until she came in the next morning looking totally fine. Since then, they'd learned to accept it, knowing that it wasn't going to change no matter what they said. Besides, she was safe, so it wasn't like they had much cause to worry.
Cato turned the both of them over, so that she was against the wall, and wouldn't fall off the bed, since she had a tendency to roll around in her sleep and had fallen off the bed more than once.
Satisfied, he closed his eyes too and settled in next to her for the night.
Aww, isn't this adorable! I have a chapter fic planned out, but I would like to hear some affirmation for this story. Love it, hate it? Please let me know so I can continue (or delete) this story where appropriate. Comments and suggestions are also welcome.
This is my first time venturing out of my comfort zone, which is really only anime series, so I hope you guys will be kind to me! (: I also hope you enjoy this story because I really like it.
Story is rated T for now, but if I keep writing it will almost certainly go up to M.
Love,
Peachy Hikaru
P.S. I do not own the storyline! It, as well as the characters, are Suzanne Collins', and I'm just borrowing them to have a little fun with them. (: