Hello! This is my first published story on . I'm not terribly excited about this prologue, because it's really a lot of introductions. But I assure you, it will become much more interesting.

This story is entitled "The Hanging Tree". It is a Hetalia/Hunger Games crossover. Strange combination, perhaps, but I have high hopes for it. I am going to rate it M for severe violence, gore, character death, and Romano's potty mouth.

I hope you enjoy!

"Bloody hands

don't compare to

Bloody minds

when happiness and death collide."

-Unknown.

The new government was supposed to be different. Things were supposed to change when the Capitol fell. Paylor was supposed to be better than Snow. But things didn't always turn out the way they were supposed to, and every person between the ages of twelve to eighteen in all thirteen of the districts knew that, knew it with a clarity that would have taken their breath away, had they not been holding it already. Twenty-five years after the new regime had taken hold, and still, still they were being subjected to this. And that was when the screens flickered to life. Every face in Panem turned towards the glow, washing them all in a ghostly light that made them look pale, sickly.

"Welcome to the one-hundredth annual Hunger Games!"

No cheers were heard from the crowd. How had this happened? Where had they gone so astray from their glorious plans of revolution? No one dared blink as the dreaded box was brought forth, and they took a deep breath in unison as a deceptively harmless-looking note card was pulled. A slight frown crossed the features of their President, and she turned for a moment, whispering into an earpiece. With a light shrug, she turned back to the crowds with a brilliant smile.

"As always, the Quarter Quell is unlike any other! In these games, all tributes will be selected from a select group among the districts...those in relationships! Once one name is called, both partners in the relationship will become the tributes selected for the honor of representing their District in this most spectacular version of our games. Welcome to the fourth Quarter Quell...and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

xXx

Roderich Edelstein sat quietly at his piano. The drawing was hours past, and there was nothing to be done of it now. His fingers were poised lightly, skillfully on the keys, but not a single note rang out, and slowly, slowly, he closed the lid and folded his hands in his lap. Somewhere in their fairly large home, he could hear Elizabeta busily cooking, cooking. She'd been cooking for hours. He knew she did it to keep her hands and mind busy, knew she would bake until she was sure she would not break down. The woman was strong-stronger than he, by far-but this was a death sentence, and no one could take it lightly. Their District, District 1, was favored by the Capitol as it always had been, even under the new rule-but that did not exempt them from the games. No one was exempt from these games, even the Capitol itself. And though he felt sorry for himself and Elizabeta, he felt even sorrier for the couple straight from the Capitol-they were sacrifices to keep the masses happy, to ensure an air of equality to the games, and nothing more. The Capitol tributes never lived long, unused to fighting for survival, unused to weaponry or hunger or thirst.

But worrying for them would not help him. Perhaps their deaths would keep him alive, and if not him, more hopefully his wife. Roderich did not expect to make it out of the games. Though clever, his creativity lay with music, and he doubted he could merely lull their enemies to sleep with a lullaby-especially considering the near impossibility of there being a piano in the arena. With a soft sigh, he stood and straightened his clothes. Time to retrieve Elizabeta before she cooked all of the food. He would like one last decent breakfast the next morning before going to Hell.

xXx

"I can't believe we're doing this."

"Shut up, it was your 'awesome' idea."

"Yeah, well, it worked didn't it? You can thank me later."

"Like hell I will."

"Kept your pretty little girl out of this, didn't I?"

"Don't talk about her like that, or you won't make it to the Games."

"Aww, that's no way to treat your awesome lover, is it Vash?"

Vash rolled over and pressed the barrel of his pistol between the eyes of the smug looking albino. He'd never really liked the man-too arrogant, boastful, and far too lewd to ever be around Lili. However, he slowly put the pistol away and huffed lightly, rolling back over. The other man did likewise, so they lay back to back. This time, the albino's voice was regretful.

"Look, I know this isn't the best of circumstances, but they never would have believed it if you'd slept at home."

Vash looked disdainfully around the trashed house, shaking his head in disgust. "You could have at least cleaned up. I swear, you're such a pig."

The other boy shrugged lightly, grinning some. "Ah, what does it matter? I'm not ever coming back here again, and we both know it. Even if you make it back, I don't think you'll ever come back here either, so it's just one night."

A grim silence sank over the two men. Gilbert feigned sleep until he heard the blond's breathing slow and deepen, then relaxed a little. The petite man and himself had never seen quite eye to eye on anything-and it wasn't just because of the height difference, no matter how much he liked to tease Vash about it. In this one matter, however, it seemed both of them had been thinking the same thing. Perhaps years of working together in the gun factories had put at least some of their thoughts in sync. When every couple had been called to put forth their names-and oh, but how thorough the Peacekeepers had been, making sure no one was spared-Gilbert had known he couldn't let that sweet, trembling girl beside Vash into the games. She'd be killed immediately. What an easy target.

There had been no resistance when he'd pushed her lightly behind him and written his name down beside Vash's, though he had not missed the look of surprise from the blond.

The thing was, while Gilbert had never been completely right in the head, and acted otherwise, he had a strong sense of morality-and this Quarter Quell had been the cruelest possible one he could imagine. He knew how much Vash cared for Lili, and if the man had been unable to protect her in the games...well, Gilbert had lost enough people that he did not want to see that again.

Things would be rocky for a while, but...if he could keep Vash alive, and send him back to his Lili, then he could count his life well spent. Reaching over the side of the bed, he brought a beer-warm, not that he cared-to his lips, and drained it. Fitfully, he closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep.

xXx

The tea had gone cold, and the two sat quietly staring down at their cups, small, simple and wooden, but smooth and slightly worn from constant use. There was nothing to say, really. Kiku looked over at his companion. They'd been fighting recently, and the strain of being chosen as tributes certainly had not helped matters. Yao's fingers were clutching at a small plush creature-something called a panda, apparently. They only existed in history books, but the feminine-looking man had fallen in love with them at his first glimpse of a picture of one. Kiku glanced up only briefly, then quietly stood and moved over to a small box, lifting out of it a camera. With a slow smile, he turned and brought it to eye level, pointing it directly at Yao. And despite their situation, and previous arguments-the man smiled, a small, sad smile. A single flash could be glimpsed from the window, and then the silent house went dark.

xXx

The orphans' 'mother' was choking back tears as she tucked the two little boys into bed. And that's all they were, really-boys. Snuggled together against the slight chill in their home, already fast asleep. At only twelve, neither one of them really knew the severity of their situation. How could their innocent, young, playful love be considered a relationship? How could the Capitol be so cruel? With another hushed sob, she stroked back blond hair, and lightly removed a sailor's cap from Peter's head. How angelic he looked when he slept. And Raivis, tightly holding his hand, his pale face troubled; the poor boy never slept easily, and trembled when anyone older than he came around. How long could he possibly last in such a place as the arena? Careful not to let her tears fall on the two boys, she lightly kissed each of their foreheads and exited the room, hand over her mouth lest she scream.

xXx

Beer was no comfort to the man right now, and he watched as the auburn-haired boy he shared his bed with twisted himself in the sheets, hugging a pillow since his lover was not yet in his customary place. Ludwig sighed softly. When he'd tried to tell the boy that they would be playing in the games, he'd not understood.

"Games? I love games!"

"N-no Feli...it's not that sort of-"

"We're going to win, right Ludwig? No one can beat you!"

"...Yes, Feliciano. We're going to win."

He hadn't had the heart to tell him otherwise. What a fragile thing the boy was-if he'd known the truth, he would have been an emotional wreck. It was better to let him sleep. There would be plenty of time to break down when the soldiers came to get them in the morning. He'd been fighting with himself all night. Somewhere, deep down, he knew it would be kinder simply to kill the boy than force him through the horrors of the arena. But would he be strong enough to do that? Or could he...maybe. If he was strong enough, he could protect him. And no one could match Feliciano's skill in avoiding things he did not want-the boy could run like the wind if he thought danger was about. With Feli's evasiveness, and his strength, perhaps at least one of them could make it out alive...and if it ended up being just the two of them left? Well...he'd kill himself. With that decision firmly in mind, he put the beer down and moved to their shared bed, slipping under the covers and immediately being wrapped in the other's arms.

xXx

"We can take one thing, right?"

"A token, yes."

"What kind of token? I mean, can it be anything useful?"

"If it can be used as a weapon, they'll take it from us."

"So no medicines?"

"No, they'd be considered an advantage. We'll have to hope we're quick enough to be able to grab some of those at the Cornucopia, if they're provided."

"No syringes either?"

"You're kidding me."

"Oh fine...but you can't bring that bear either."

"K-Kumajirou? W-why not, eh?"

Alfred sighed and smacked the other boy lightly on the head. "Because he'll just distract us and slow us down!"

Rubbing lightly at his forehead, Matthew pouted, clinging to his white bear. It was, perhaps, childish to want to bring the stuffed animal along, but it had been his sole friend for years-not including Alfred, of course. But unlike Alfred, the bear was a wonderful listener. And didn't speak nearly so much.

"...doesn't matter, because I'm the hero!"

A soft sigh. "Yes, yes, you're the hero. Let's get some sleep, eh. We're going to need it."

"Alright...hey, Mattie-do you think they'll have burgers in the arena?"

Matthew shook his head. It was going to be a long night.

xXx

Ivan had locked himself in the bathroom. Again. How in the world had he not noticed her signing them up? Was the girl so mad that she'd entered them into a death match simply to lay a false claim to him in front of all of Panem? It would seem so. He curled more tightly into himself as he heard her soft breathing once more outside the door.

"Ivan? Ivan? Come out, Ivan. I want to hug you. We should go find the priest. There are married couples going into the games. Shouldn't we be married too? That would be wonderful."

He twisted his scarf nervously in his hands. Standing at over six feet tall, and over two-hundred pounds, Ivan was a formidable man. And yet that girl, so much smaller than him, had somehow driven him to hide himself in a dark bathroom. She terrified him. She was insane, completely insane, and no one believed him when he told them that.

"Natalia, please, please go to sleep." He murmured unhappily, pressing his back against the tub. However, this only seemed to encourage her, and now the doorknob was rattling.

"We have to be married! There are married couples in the game! I won't let them outdo us! We have to show Panem how in love we are! Come out and marry me!"

The screeching and rattling continued, and Ivan merely settled himself in for a long night. He had a feeling she wouldn't stop until the Peacekeepers came at sunrise.

xXx

"Would they let us bring a tarp?"

"I...doubt it. They'd probably think of it as...an advantage."

The bearded man frowned slightly, sifting through rolls of cloth. Everyone was allowed to bring a token from home. Something to represent them. But if it couldn't be anything obviously useful in the games, then what would it be? He glanced over at the other man, frowning at him. "Heracles, you're not even paying attention."

And he wasn't really. He was on his back, both eyes closed, fingers lazily stroking the fur of his cat. One eye opened slowly. "I...am. Don't you think we should...get some sleep, Sadiq?"

Sadiq sighed and rolled his eyes, standing and dropping the cloth he'd been holding and crossing his arms. "We're both going to die if you just try to sleep your way through the games."

But it was no use. The brunette had already gone to sleep. With a frustrated noise, he turned his back on the man and went back to sorting through their possessions.

xXx

"Stealth or force?"

"Stealth, if we can manage it. We're hunters, not barbarians."

"I suppose you have a point." It was only on a night like this that Arthur would concede a point. Verdant hues flickered up to meet aqua ones, and he saw the relief mirrored there. Neither one of them wanted a fight tonight. There would be plenty of fighting in the days to come. Almost timidly, their hands reached out and their fingers laced together, knotting at the thumbs. Foreheads met, and they lowered their eyes.

"What chances do we have?" Francis's voice was grim, the blond's eyes closed, hair falling slightly into his face, most of it held back by a single red ribbon.

"Better than most, given our profession."

Better than most, however, still wasn't high, and they both knew it. As one they stood, and while Francis made one half-hearted grab at Arthur's ass, he missed, and they both ended up tangled in bed, clinging to each other. Francis was muttering what Arthur was sure were sweet nothings in his ear, but he couldn't understand him. He spoke in a language no one used anymore, something he'd picked up in all his reading, he was sure. He fell asleep to the sound of a lullaby that for once, he wish he understood.

xXx

"Why'd you sign us up, you goddamn bastard?" The screaming was to prevent the tears. So was the bowl that crashed beside Antonio's head. Or at least, he hoped so, because Lovino looked absolutely murderous.

"¡Dios mio!L-look Lovi, I didn't have a choice! Didn't you see the Peacekeepers? Everyone knows about us, there was no getting out of i-" He grimaced and ducked as a knife found it's way buried into the wall. He was lucky Lovino was such a bad shot.

"That's no excuse, damn it! How could you? We're going to fucking die in those games, don't you get it?" But the anger was already subsiding, and no matter how he fought them, the tears were spilling down his cheeks, and Antonio was moving forward. He wrapped the auburn-haired boy in his arms.

"Shh...shh...It will be alright. I will take care of us. I've been protecting you for years, haven't I?"

Lovino reluctantly nodded, allowing himself to be drawn into the safety of those strong, tan arms. It was true-Antonio had never let him down, or deserted him, no matter how badly he treated him. Why should anything change now?

"Come to the kitchen. I'll make you some tomato soup, and we'll talk." Lovino whimpered. Tomato soup-a rare luxury for them. Despite working in the agricultural industry, they rarely ever got enough to eat. He knew Antonio had to have stolen the tomatoes...risked his life. He couldn't refuse him. With a soft whimper, he followed him to the kitchen. But the prospect of food comforted him. Perhaps...perhaps they would make it after all.

xXx

The smaller man wiped the coal dust carefully from the older man's face, frowning slightly. "Are you sure you are okay? You didn't inhale any, did you?" That was the last thing they needed, for Berwald to develop a breathing problem due to coal dust the day before they entered the arena.

"No. 'm f'ne, T'no." If his hands weren't also coated with the dust, he'd want to hug the fair boy, but he seemed to know what he wanted anyway. Tino curled against the larger man, continuing to wipe affectionately at the man's face. His voice trembled when he spoke, a mere whisper in the small, cramped quarters of their home...a shack, really.

"If you win, you won't ever have to go back to the mines."

"'f I w'n, 'd r'th'r g' b'ck t' th' m'nes."

"Don't say that!"

Tino was clutching to him now, crying softly. He knew there was no chance of them both making it out alive. He'd heard there had been a couple like that once, that both had made it out of the arena alive, but that had been years ago, and the stunt would not be repeated. The new Capitol would rather there be no winner at all than to have two. And he just wasn't sure if he would ever be able to live with himself without Berwald. But there were plenty of ways to die in the arena...if something were to happen to Berwald, it would be oh so easy for something to happen to him as well.

"'m s'rry, w'fe."

Tino didn't answer. He only had one hope, one reason to keep going. He'd hold tightly to that hope, and do all he could to make sure Berwald was the one to make it out of the arena.

xXx

District 13 was busy. There was, of course, no way to save the two tributes from going into the games, but they could be well equipped. They'd all been slightly trained in this-it was only bad luck that two scientists had been chosen. They were now conversing lightly. 'In a relationship' was perhaps the wrong term for them-there really wasn't much romantic chemistry between them, but they worked flawlessly as a team. Well, when Yong Soo wasn't staring at and/or commenting on how well-endowed Katyusha was.

"We'll make it, won't we?"

"Of course we will. I'm sure I helped design some of obstacles in the arena. Surely I can get us past them."

A slight touch of arrogance to his voice-but Katyusha appreciated it and found his confidence comforting. They were poring over equations at the moments. It would be incomprehensible to anyone not in their field, but they could read it with ease. They could hear footsteps outside of their room, people bustling, trying to decide what they could or could not take with them. Naturally, it could not be anything that would help them win, but perhaps if it was carefully concealed, they could pass it through the inspection...

There would be no sleeping for them tonight. They had much more important matters to attend to.

xXx

In the Capitol, Jeanette was staring numbly at a wall. She was all cried out, and there were still stains from her tears on her cheeks, now dry.

"I'm sorry." Claire looked over at the brunette, saying the words for the hundredth time. They had to have lost all meaning by now, but she couldn't stop herself from saying them. After all, it was her name that had been drawn, not Jeanette's. It had been her death sentence that had drawn the other girl in. With trembling hands, she moved over to cup Jeanette's cheeks, looking for a response, any kind of response. She'd barely said anything since the drawing, and it was beginning to frighten the guilt-ridden girl.

"Please speak to me." Jeanette blinked slightly and gazed up. Claire's eyes were a mix between pale blue and light grey-they were eye-catching, and anything eye-catching in the Capitol was a good thing. A slight smile touched her lips.

"I...I'm fine. We're going to be alright. We'll protect each other, right?"

A soft sigh of relief. Claire blinked slowly and smiled as well, nodding and planting a light kiss on each of the girl's warm brown eyes, momentarily closed. "Yes...yes, we're going to be fine." Slowly, she lowered Jeanette to the bed, wrapping her firmly in her arms and kissing the top of her head, staring angrily into the darkness of their lavish room.

And if we're not, God help the person who takes you from me.

xXx

The next morning was eerily silent. Pale, frightened faces peered out of their windows as the couples were marched through the streets. The couples themselves remained silent, doing their best to be strong-for their loved ones, if no one else. The reality of the situation had set in-everyone there was going to lose their lover. Even the victor would not come out unscathed, but would exit the arena alone, and broken. With heavy thoughts, and heavier hearts, they were escorted to the training facility. And on the train that took them there, they planned.

So began the one-hundredth Hunger Games-the fourth Quarter Quell.

Well, there it is, folks.

Any ideas? Questions? Comments?

Feel free to ask! Next chapter coming soon, with the real beginning of this story.