Now, I promised myself I wasn't going to write a Hunger Games fic because I am too snowballed by my Doctor Who ones as it is...but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. So, I hope you enjoy it!
Note: I realise that an OC written in first person present tense is often known as a Sueish way to write, but I figure that since the Hunger Games is written in the same way that makes it okay. Now, I usually dislike writing in present tense but past just didn't seem to fit for some reason. And the Hunger Games seems to just have to be in first person, to me, even though I usually dislike writing in that too.
Do let me know if you've made any errors about districts or timelines or anything! :)
There's only minutes left until we have to assemble and wait for Malroy Darsta, the District 7 escort, to emerge on the stage in front of the pit where we are all expected to stand. I've seen my family already, and promised to find them once the tributes have been picked. Now, my time is for Deen and no one else. We had to go through this torment of anticipation last year but this year the stakes are higher, as they always are. Not just in terms of how many times our names are in there - six for both of us - but because I have so much more to lose. It's lucky really, that I'm not so poor as to need to apply for tesserae.
Deen's hand clasps mine as we simply stare at each other in the eyes for over half of a minute. His fingers comb some of my hair out of my face and I realize belatedly that I am clutching his shirt in my hands as though it is a lifeline. My gaze falls to them for a minute and I frown as I stare, but he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him again. When I wordlessly comply, he gently pries my fingers off of his shirt.
"Hey," Deen says quietly, his voice calming me as it always does, "It will be fine, the odds are in our favor, we're only in there six times."
"Twelve year olds are only in there once and they still get picked...odds aren't enough. With the Quarter Quell's rules, it might as well be twelve," I reply with a lump in my throat. Suddenly he's hugging me fiercely and I can't help but wonder if it's just so that I won't see him look as terrified as I am. I'm not a coward but this chills me to the core every year without fail when the entire District gathers like lambs for slaughter.
"You can't afford to think like that," He whispers into my ear with a tremor of urgency.
"I can't afford not to...what if they take you away from me?"
"Then I will kill anyone who tries to stop me from getting back to you." His usually irrefutable logic has strangely little affect on me today. I know that until the Reaping is over I will not be able to shake the usual terror that fills everyone in the whole of a Panem Districts at the time of a reaping - albeit the Career ones.
A sudden silence around us tells us what we didn't want to hear; it was time to get into our places and let the Reaping begin. Deen kisses my forehead quickly and as he pulls away he whispers something that fills my heart with worry and a strange chill.
"May the odds be ever in your favor, Cadence."
I feel myself briefly freeze at the words that sound so wrong coming out of his mouth. After a moment the words somehow reassure me. But I've missed my chance and he has disappeared into the crowd, so I do the same.
The many lines of adolescents and the families that gather around fill the yard where the Reaping occurs every year. Malroy Darsta appears on stage to meet a round of applause that we create for the sake of pretense at being happy. It's laughable really; why would we be happy about giving up two – or in this case, four – of our own only for the chance of one returning? Are the Capitol people really so stupid as to believe our feigned joy? Looking at Malroy and his painted green face makes me consider that people who think that all those fake colours are fashionable perhaps are as bland and brainless as we all tend to think.
The two most recent mentors of District 7 linger in the background of the stage. Their faces are familiar, as most of us remember watching their televised games years back, and remember the incomparable feel of joy and triumph when we realised that one of our tributes, Carlotta, was coming home. And then two years later we watched Karena win her Games without killing a single tribute,by hiding and letting the natural world kill them instead. This tactic brought her home to us. But that's the problem with the Games, isn't it? Even if you can beat the odds and escape the Arena without being slaughtered, you are forced to mentor children like yourself every year and watched at least one – and usually both – of them be killed practically before your eyes. You can see it in their eyes when the camera briefly zooms in on them that they are still haunted by those nightmares.
"Happy Hunger Games!" Malroy announces suddenly in his irritatingly feminine voice, "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" The words are ones that have echoed through our lives since we can remember and no one other than the man speaking them smiles or reacts to them in any way. Unfazed, he continues. "As always, it is such an honour to be here with all of you today. District 7 has always been my District, you're all so wonderful…but onto the selecting of the tributes. Ladies first, of course, and this time I have the pleasure of announcing not one but two lovely girls who will have the honour of representing District 7 in the 50th annual Hunger Games!"
It's a typically Capitol thing to say. To be doting on people in one sentence, and lightly reminding us of the fact that he is leading their children to the Arena in the next. It makes me incredibly nauseous and fills me with disgust, though there was always a possibility that it wasn't all due to the sickening subtext of Malroy's words.
"Now…our first tribute is…Lara Castellan!"
A few murmurs run through the crowd as the terrified young brunette girl steps forward. I vaguely recognize her from when I used to supervise the collection of the kindling around the forests, and realize that she is only thirteen, but poor enough to need a helping of tesserae. Malroy welcomes her onto the stage and she manages to force a half-convincing smile at him. It's obvious that she's scared out of her wits but she does a good show of trying to be brave, and there is a glint of determination in her eye.
I snap back to attention when I realize that he is selecting the other female tribute, though sneak a glance at my friend Kayla who is standing a few rows away. Hoping to high heaven that she is not picked, I let myself concentrate on the paper now in Malroy's hand, being unfolded as I watched.
Please let it be a fighter. Please let it be someone who has a chance. Not another young one. Please.
"Cadence Marks."
I freeze in unparalleled shock and find the world temporarily disappearing. In the background there is a moment's silence and in the back of my mind I register it being broken by a sob that can be identified as my mother's. This brings me back to my surroundings and I realize that everyone is watching me, or trying to get a glimpse of me. Numbly, I begin to walk and I hear a protest from the boys section. Instinctively, like it's built into my body's natural functions, my eyes find Deen in less than a second. The defeat and desperation in his face makes my heart break a little. His emerald eyes are speaking to me with a plan that makes my blood run cold.
He wants to volunteer, so that he can protect me in the Arena and make sure that I make it out alive.
My head shakes violently of its own accord, my face and eyes pleading with him to see reason. I would be forced to kill him – or in an unlikely circumstance, vice versa – and he should know I could never do it or let him die. Like a miracle his face slumps into acceptance and I realize that I have convinced him. Such is our faith and trust in each other…I have never been more glad of it than I am now.
With a clearer head than the one I had several seconds ago, I slowly walk up to stage, suddenly feeling self-conscious of my physical appearance. I manage to tell myself that the clothes from District 7 are so bulky that I needn't worry, but it is a hard feeling to kick when suddenly you are in front of everyone you have ever known in your seventeen years of life.
"Come on up, come on up," Malroy says with a sickening sweet voice which gives me an urge to break his nose, an urge that surprises me because violent thoughts and impulses are not something I am accustomed to feeling.
I stamp up the steps and place myself next to Lara. The poor girl looks so out of place and so afraid that I grab her hand and shoot her a reassuring look when she stares up at me in surprise. The gratitude in her eyes is obvious and when I look back out into the crowd some people seem to be pleased by the gesture.
A feeling of self-exasperation proceeds to crash over me as it hits me that I was so busy worrying about Deen or Kayla being drawn that I had completely forgotten about the fact that I was eligible to be chosen too. Incredibly stupid…that's what I was. Thinking of Kayla, I look for her heart-shaped face again in the crowd and see her eyeing the ground with her blonde hair covering her eyes, and notice that she makes no move to volunteer in my place when Malroy makes the open offer. I'm hardly surprised and yet a strange disappointment hits me regardless. Perhaps she would have taken my place, if I told her the truth, the truth that made my situation altogether more horrifying? Perhaps…
I stand there like a good little tribute and cross my fingers that Deen won't be chosen as well as me. I can't fight him…I just can't…it's bad enough that I have to leave him. My eyes scope him out and settle on his face as Malroy announces the name of the first boy tribute. It's not one I recognize and I'm barely listening anyway, because the fact that I may have limited time to see Deen's face before I am taken away from him has gotten to me and I can't bear to look away from him.
"Stay strong," He mouths, and a strange little smile creeps on my face as my eyes tell him yes. By now, the first boy tribute – a stocky sixteen year old with a sullen face – is with us on the stage. Our eyes meet but that is the extent of our interaction as Malroy reads the last name.
It's not Deen, and I exhale so loudly that I'm sure the entire District could hear it. It's a tall, gangly boy who smiles at me nervously as he enters the stage.
Malroy Darsta reads all of our names again and we are herded off of the stage and into backrooms. Panic really begins to hit me as I am escorted to a room where I will make my goodbyes to my friends and family. I sit in a simple wooden chair that would have come from one of our own trees and run my left hand across the intricately carved armrest. My fingers trace the patterns while my other hand simply fiddles with the fabric of my jacket.
I am going to compete in the Hunger Games. In the second quarter quell where I have half of the chance of surviving than what I would typically. There is a crushing probability that I will never return to District 7 and be with Deen.
My thoughts are consuming me and it's all I do to not curl into a ball on the floor and scream because life isn't fair. As it is, I begin fiddling with one of my thick strawberry braids, removing the tie at the end of the one on my right side and toying with the ends.
Suddenly the door is open and my parents are in the room and they are crying while I hug them and act brave and strong for them. It's almost eerie how quickly I can hide my distress and panic. Are the games already changing me? They eventually leave and I lean against the door when they go, weeping bitterly and inwardly cursing the Capitol. A knock on the other side of the door startles me and I stumble back as the one person who I want to see enters.
"Deen," I murmur before falling into his arms. I don't have to be strong for him, and he knows me too well, he would know if I were feigning courage. He strokes my hair and I can feel by the shaking of his body that it's not just me who's crying.
"Cadence," Is all he manages before his words seem to dry up in his throat. I force myself to look up and wind up getting lost in his eyes as I have so many times before. My boring brown eyes can't be as fascinating as the clear green that he has, but he seems to like them all the same. His large, comforting hands cup my face with surprising force as he kisses me so fiercely and desperately that I instinctively grab onto him as hard as I can and kiss him back with all of the strength that I possess. He tastes of tears and I'm certain that I must too, and he is pulling me to him and I lean into his comforting embrace.
Finally, as we know that our time for farewell is coming to an end, we pull away but do not move. His forehead is pressed against mine and his eyes are shut as his arms gently caress my torso.
"I am going to try and get back to you," I promise quietly as my hands cover the top of his, "I'll fight anyone who tries to stop me. Even if I have to kill all 47 other tributes, I'll do it if it means I can have you."
"That's not the only reason."
"No, it's not."
There is a silence and I can tell that whatever it is that he wants to say next is hard. "Cadence...tell them the truth."
The idea is irrationally repulsive to me. "No...why should I?"
"They're going to find out anyway! But it will get you sponsors, don't deny that." His stupid logic can't be argued with.
"It might get me sponsors," I admit reluctantly, "And I suppose that's all that matters...it's not just about me."
"Just come back to me," Deen whispered as his eyes snapped open to bore into mine, "Both of you."
I nod and our hands gently rest on the emphasized curve of my stomach that has been hiding behind my incredibly bulky clothes. We stand there for as long as we possibly can, the still growing child in my womb between us, as we think about the fact that it will not just be my own life that I will be fighting for when I step into that Arena.
The odds are not in my favor, and I have far too much to lose.
Well...there is a chance that this was really bad, but do let me know in a review, will you? (I reply to every review I receive, and cherish each one)
-MayFairy :)