"Primrose Everdeen"
A kick seemed to have been flung at his chest as Effie Trinket's shrill, capital affected, voice called out one of the few names he dreaded most to hear. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. It was a death sentence. Prim was too sweet, too good natured to be able to kill anyone. She wouldn't last five minutes in the arena. His heart was pounding in his head as he watched a pair of golden braids start to separate from the crowd. Prim had almost reached the steps when Katniss's panicked voice shattered through the air. "Prim!" She cried, rushing towards her younger sister. Again she shreked the little girl's name before thrusting Prim behind her.
Part of Gale wanted to grab Katniss, to haul her away. The very selfish part of him wanted Prim to go so he could keep Katniss. He knew that wasn't an option. He knew how Prim's death would destroy his best friend. He also knew, before the words even left her mouth, what Katniss would do.
"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute." Her voice shook at first, before it solidified into a strong declaration. She could no more let Prim go into the arena, then Gale could have let any of his younger siblings go. Prim's scream was shrill, the scream of a wounded animal as she clung to Katniss. Gale didn't think, he simply moved, pushing through the crowd to pry Prim away from Katniss. Instinct told him to leave Prim where she is, to join her, to cling to Katniss and refuse to let her walk up those steps. Instead his strong hands lifted Prim up, sweeping her into his arms to return her to her mother. For a moment their eyes met, grey upon grey, expressions nearly mirroring the others.
"Up you go, Catnip" He finally says, struggling to keep his voice steady. He can't keep looking at her, he can't, and he doesn't. He held on tightly to the still screaming Prim, carrying her back through the crowd to Mrs. Everdeen. By the time he reached the blonde woman, Prim has settled to quiet sobs. He sets her down gently and turns to look up at the podium where Effie is gushing over Katniss. For an instant he catches Katniss's frightened gaze, and without a thought he finds himself pressing three fingers of his left hand to his lips, before raising his hand high. The gestures ripples through the crowd until nearly everyone has raised their hand in the old salute. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.
The moment was broken when a very drunk Haymitch came stumbling onto the scene, crowing and shouting at the air, before he tumbled from his place on the platform. Gale paid him no attention, instead he shuffled back to his place among the potential male tributes, before a peacekeeper forced him to. From far away he heard Effie's voice fill the air, her confidence and upbeat attitude severely shaken by the turn of events. He can't help but feel a slight stab of satisfaction in the way her voice wobbled as she tried to proceed as normal. She should be shaken up, she should feel something for the families who are all about to lose a loved one. Gale's eyes are on the ground, his throat tight as he tries to calm his trembling limbs. He can't lose her, he can't, but he is. Just like that the Capital is taking her away from him. And then he heard it. His name. His name falling from Effie's brightly painted lips. He is slow to respond, but everyone is staring at him. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard and looked up towards the platform. The peacekeeprs, Effie, the Mayor, Katniss…. His jaw set and he lifted his chin, squaring his shoulders before he marched up to the platform. He won't show them he is scared, he won't show them how his legs feel as though they have turned to lead and how his head is spinning at a dizzying rate. He can't, and he won't. That is what they want. That is the purpose of the games, to instill fear in the people. To make them fear what the Capital might do should they buck against them. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction. He refused to play their game how they wanted.
Gale made it up the steps and stood with his hands clasped behind his back to hide the way they were shaking. He was going to his death. He knew that. Only one would come out, and it couldn't be him, not with Katniss standing next to him.
"Are there any volunteers?" Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, too sweet, too loud, with a touch of a screech to it. Gale's eyes flew wildly through the crowd, searching out the face of his brother. Rory. Rory with his lips parted as though he was about to speak. Gale shook his head violently, bile rising in his throat at the thought. He couldn't let his brother take his place, and it was with a sense of great relief that he watched as Rory closed his mouth and shrink back into the crowd.
When it became clear none would take his place, the Mayor stepped up to read the Treaty of Treason. It was customary, and something Gale knew by heart only because he had heard it so many times. He blocked it out, instead gazing blankly out into the crowd. He can't look at anyone directly or he was afraid the lump that was stuck in his throat would make its way up to escape as the sob he is doing his best to keep down. He can't cry, he can't be upset. He must accept his fate and stay focused. He has one goal and one goal alone.
When he is forced to turn and face Katniss, to shake her hand, he found the same look of determination in her eyes. As their fingers encircle one anothers he knows he is about to have a fight on his hands.
Katniss is thinking the same way he is. Only one comes out and she is determined that it be him.
A/N: So this little plot bunny has been rattling around in my head and finally I sat down to write it. I'm still figuring out the way things will go and still figuring out how I will write it. As you can tell it is written in third person, past tense. I'm not sure how I feel about past tense, so that may change. If the tense or person suddenly changes, that is why and I will of course go back and fix older chapters so there is continuity between them. Your opinions on this matter would be greatly appreciated!