The Prequel To A Love Story: Anna's Games

PART ONE: THE REAPED

hey guys, I'm back in my OTF (one true fandom) to work on this project and to continue THE LOST TRIBUTE. Since I last left you hanging on TLT, I've gotten better, I've fallen in love, and I am truly happy with my writing abilities.

please review, as always they are my inspiration.

My name is Novanna Switch. I am eighteen years old and I come from District 8. Today, eight months off from my nineteenth birthday, I was Reaped for the Seventy Third Annual Hunger Games. My mentor is an old woman, and my fellow Tribute has already shaken his head at an alliance offer.

"Don't want to weigh you down." He had said.
He's my age, but he walks with a limp - his left leg barely works. He can't run.
"That's ridiculous," I had protested, though not viciously.
"No it's not, Novanna. You know that."

He'd asked me to kill him before anyone else did. I told him I couldn't.
We're arriving at the Capitol soon, I know this much. My fellow tributes look to be vicious competition. I'm not expecting to live long. I sigh. Dress in simple clothes - a knee length dress and small heels - tie back my long ginger hair. Frown at myself. Reach for my district token - a small locket.
We're driven straight to the remake centre. Our mentor, Alice, goes hobbling off, leaving me to help Alex - my fellow tribute - limp over to his team.
"You're not meant to be here!" Clucks one of Alex's prep team.
"I know," I say.
"She was helping me," Alex explains as I walk off to my own prep station. As I'm headed there, I see the two tributes from District 12 walk past, tiny skeletal kids who've never seen enough food in their lives. "Seam" kids, I think they're called.

Then I clap eyes on their mentor and my heart almost stops. He's older, naturally. Blonde, but he has those grey "seam" eyes, and despite being older and obviously intoxicated, he's handsome. He sees me staring and makes a beeline for me. Shit.

"Didn'ja know i's rude to stare?" He slurs at me. Those poor Seam kids don't stand a chance with this guy as their mentor.

"Sorry," I say, but I can't lower my gaze. I know who he is. Of course.
"Wha's'at?" He slurs back.

"Sorry, Victor Abernathy." I say quickly.

This snaps him out of it.
"What? God no, don't call me that." He says sharply.

"What?" I say stupidly.
"Don't call me that. It's Haymitch. Just Haymitch." He says.

"Oh." I blink rapidly because those DAMN eyes are fixed on me.
"Who are you? You new?" He asks, looking me up and down.
Shit, he doesn't know I'm a tribute.

"I guess you could say that," I say wryly.

"You're too beautiful for a place like this," he says.
I blush scarlet.
"Thank you." I say quietly.

My eyes are fixed on his, there's a definitive "buzz" going on.

Just then, Alice comes hobbling back over - she's surprisingly fast for a woman in her sixties.
"For goodness sake, Haymitch! Must you interfere with my Tribute? Don't fill her ears with nonsense about your pair - that's illegal!" Alice chirps in vague annoyance.
"It's fine, Alice," I say, "it was my bad."

Haymitch looks from me to Alice and genuine regret fills his face.
"You're a tribute?" He says.
"Yeah." I say, "District 8."
Alice rolls her eyes.
"Come along, dear. They're waiting for you."
Haymitch reaches out and catches my hand before Alice can frogmarch me away. This earns him a scandalised look from Alice.

"Wait. What's your name?" He asks, "please."
I think the please is more to Alice than me.
"Novanna," I say, "Novanna Switch."
He barely has time to kiss my hand before Alice drags me away to my team.

XxxxxxxxX

As my team - Coral, Jade, and Taura - work on me, I try to look happy. Despite being prettied up for slaughter, I'm happy to let these Capitol fools work on me. Make me look beautiful. Maybe He will see.
Alice must have told my prep team what happened, because they're extra nice to me, and twitter away about how I might win. They're right, I might. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.

"You're going to look beautiful," Taura assures me, her blue eyes twinkling as she brushes my hair for me.
"Yay," I manage sarcastically, my thoughts full of Haymitch and wondering whether love at first sight is even possible.

"Blue on her eyes, Jade," Coral says in her soft Capitol accent.
I detest blue except in the lightest of shades. Luckily that's what my team has picked for me.

"Why blue?" I ask. Blue isn't normally a color associated with District 8.
Taura leans down to whisper in my ear.
"Victor Abernathy is fond of the color blue."
I flush bright pink.
"Won't Alice be angry?" I ask.

Taura tips me a wink. Despite these three girls being Capitol airheads, they're genuinely nice people. I don't think they'll enjoy watching me die.
"What do I do?" I ask as Jade carefully dusts my eyes with a light blue powder.
"Whatever your heart desires," says Coral, "you have to take chances... Whilst you can."
Then she claps her hands over her mouth and gets all apologetic. I shrug and wave it off. She's right.
"Isn't it illegal?" I ask.
"You're not from District 12... I mean.. It's not... Conventional. But.. It's legal." Jade says.
Then my stylist, Eridan, comes in to see me and I have to stop focusing on Haymitch and more on the days to come.

XxxxxxxxxxX

That very evening, Eridan adds the final touch to my outfit - I'm wearing a dress subtly made out of rich, shimmery fabric. It's the color of the sky here, blue again.
"I had three dresses made," Eridan confesses as he hands me my shoes.
"Why this one?" I ask.
"The prep team chose." Eridan shrugs.
He's a tall, skinny guy with mint green hair and a silver hoop in one ear. He wears ripped "jeans" and a bright blue shirt.
I sigh heavily. They're playing on the scene earlier. Good. Let me be forgettable to some, but so beautiful to others they'll never forget me.

We step out of the suite.
"I'll get another elevator," says Eridan, crossing the hallway to get an elevator which has just arrived from the ground floor. I step into my own elevator which has come from the floor above.
It's empty except for Haymitch, who doesn't look directly at me. I don't speak until the doors are firmly closed.
"Where's your tributes?" I ask.
"Already down there. I came back to look for you." Haymitch says, still not facing me.
"Me? Why?" I ask, confused.
"To apologise," says Haymitch, "I hope you didn't get into too much trouble."
I shake my head.
"Nah, Alice is just a hard taskmaster to please." I say.

He turns to face me and I hear the slight intake of breath as he takes in my long gown with the short front, my hair pulled back with diamond "sewing pins". My face, illuminated by light makeup and blue highlights.

"My god," I hear him mumble.
I flush bright pink again and take a step towards him in the closed space.
"Turn for me, sweetheart," he says, and I do, twirling in a full circle for him.
I get dizzy but he catches me, pushes a stray curl of my hair back into place, swears under his breath when it doesn't go back.

"You are so beautiful," he murmurs, and then his lips are on mine, his hands on my waist. One of my hands rests on his chest, glad for the firmness and solidity of him, whilst my other hand goes for his longish blonde hair. His tongue flickers at my lips and I let him in, kissing him hungrily.
We break apart for air and I stare at him.
"W-why?" I stammer.
"I can't explain it, Anna," he says softly, and I know he's thinking back to the energy field between us when I first saw him earlier.
"Then don't," I whisper, " let's play pretend that magic exists."
Before he can answer I cover his lips with mine again, beyond caring if this is pity or not.

"Do you pity me?" I whisper, because I know that his answer will, deep down, affect me.
"Not in the slightest, sweetheart," he whispers back, pressing one final kiss to my lips as the elevator DINGS to announce our arrival.
"Should I-?" I ask, gesturing I should go first.
"No. Screw it." Haymitch says, and he takes my hand.
"W-what are y-?"
"Trust me." He interrupts.
And I do. He leads me out of the elevator, hand clasped in mine.
At first, nobody notices us, but then one by one, they do. Gasps, whispers, and then applause.
"Good luck, sweetheart," Haymitch says, then he kisses me soundly in front of everyone. Alice comes over to take me to my team, and I prepare for a lecture.

"I hope you win, for his sake," is all she says, but even so, her grip on my arm is a tad too tight.
I clamber up onto the District 8 chariot, where Alex is waiting, leaning on a walking cane.
"Hey there," I say, "how's things?"
Alex snorts.
"Swell," he says, "though I think you've caused more of a bang than I have."
"Naturally," I say dryly and we both snigger.
Too soon, we're moving out into the city. The people don't adore us, but they seem interested enough. Hopefully I'll get sponsors.

XxxxxxX

My individual assessment with the Gamemakers has finally come around. Time to show them everything. I walk into the gymnasium and select an array of knives and throwing stars. Each target I aim for, I hit. Perfectly.

XxxxxxxX

I score a ten in my individual assessment with the Gamemakers. Tonight is my interview with Caesar Flickerman. Hating the entire Capitol, I go up to the roof of the training centre to meet Haymitch.
"I hate this place," I tell him, "I wish I could just go home."
Haymitch grimaces, holds me, and plays with my hair.
"I'd never have found you, sweetheart. Now you have to win for me." He says.
"What if I don't get sponsors?" I ask worriedly.
Haymitch chuckles.

"Sweetheart, you're the most beautiful girl in the Games, and you scored a Ten. Trust me, you have sponsors."
"What if I can't win?" I say.
Haymitch's expression darkens, and he seems incapable of answering. We've known each other for barely three weeks, but we know each other so well.
"You have to, sweetheart," he says, "or I may well die."
That statement resonates as deeply romantic with me, and I respond to it by kissing him with more passion than I've ever kissed him.

"Will you do something for me?" I whisper, taking his hand.
"Of course, sweetheart," he smells of liquor and a musky sort of scent I haven't deciphered yet.
"Will you make love to me, Haymitch?" My voice is shaky, but I don't stammer, not once.
His expression becomes conflicted.
"Are you sure, sweetheart?" He asks, "that's a... Big step."
My heart sinks. He doesn't want me.

"Y-y-you d-don't w-want me?" My stupid stammer comes back full force.
His expression softens.
"Of course I do, sweetheart. It's just... I don't want you to come back and break my heart." He says gruffly.
"If I die in there," I say, "I die loving you. And if I come back out, I will return loving you."
"So why rush?" He says.
"Because if I die, I want to die knowing I was loved - fully loved - by you." I say.
He grabs my hands, stands, and pulls me with him towards to entrance to the stairs which will take us back to the District 12 floor.

XxxxxxxxX

Like guilty young teenagers we sneak through the door to the District 12 floor and across the hallway. Haymitch glances around swiftly before pulling me into his room. God it's more fancy than MY room on the District 8 floor. He notices me staring.
"I hate all of this," he says, "even more now there's something they're trying to take from me."
I know he means me. I smile faintly.

"Don't count me out," I say, "I have hidden skills."
"Naturally," says Haymitch, "that ten didn't score itself."
I snicker.
"Unless of course, Seneca Crane took a liking to you..." Haymitch's expression darkens. I roll my eyes.
"That fool?" I say, "so what if he did? I'll use it to my advantage."
Haymitch laughs quietly, eyes fixed on mine.
"I'm sure you will, sweetheart."

Then his mouth is on mine, hungry and desperate as his tongue explores my mouth. My hands shake slightly as I unbutton his waistcoat, discard his shirt onto the floor. His hands are less careful - the sheer fabric of my dress tears under his fingers. His hands roam my body, lips at my throat. I surrender to him. Let him push me back onto his bed. I prop myself up and watch as he takes off his pants. Before I get a chance to ogle, he's sitting in front of me, face buried in my breasts, his mouth alternating between licking and sucking on my nipples. Before I know it, I'm breathing his name like a prayer.
His fingers rub slow, painfully arousing circles around my clit, his eyes fixed on mine.
"Haymitch," I breathe, "please..."

He smirks, clearly satisfied with the effect his ministrations are having on me. It's then that I see the defined, jagged scar on his abdomen. I can't help the sharp intake of breath that hits me - its like someone's knocked the air out of my lungs.
My fingers reach out, trace the scar.
"Hideous, isn't it," says Haymitch.
I shake my head.
"No," I say, "it shows you're a survivor."
He smiles at me slightly.
"You're the only woman not to be repulsed by that," he says, and then he's inside me, and I'm sighing his name again.

Maybe my soft moaning of his name triggers something, because he starts to move inside of me, rocking his hips against mine, pressing me down into the soft mattress.
"Haymitch..." This time it's a breathy mewl that escapes my lips. He smirks and rolls into me, deep groans resonating in his throat as I match him pace-for-pace, our lips colliding in long, passionate kisses as he thrusts himself deep inside me.
"Harder," I beg, "please..."
He obliges, pounding into me until I explode, moaning his name. He follows soon after, groaning and kissing me deeply. I feel him contract inside me and I breathe his name one last time as he spills into me.
Moments later, he pulls out of me - I give this pathetic little mewling sound at the feel of being empty again.

Neither of us bother dressing. Surely someone will come looking for me when it's time for me to prep for the interview. Haymitch wraps his arms around me and I snuggle into his chest, tracing the jagged scar on his torso with a kind of reverent fascination.
"Did you ever see my Games, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks.

I shake my head, I was too young and I've never watched the replay. Watching the Games is on the same sort of level as fetching water from the wells - a necessity but not a pleasant task. At least we all sing as we wait for our turn to fetch the water. Sometimes, if a family with a lot of thirsty kids is late in the line, the elderly let them go before them. That's the thing about District 8 - we all work together as a big team. The Peacekeepers don't like this, but they're fairly lenient as long as we produce whatever the Capitol demands.

"That's how I got this scar," says Haymitch.

I'm about to make some sarcastic response but then I realise that a scar that durable must have come from something nasty.
"It came down to me and a girl from District One - Shimmer, her name was," Haymitch tells me, "she had an axe, and good god did she know how to handle it. But of course I had my own secret weapon - the force field."

I'm listening in fascination.
"She got me in the gut - I was running up that hill in my Arena holding my intestines in. She lobbed the axe but I ducked. It hit the field and bounced back, killing her instead." He says.

I wince.
"Why are you telling me this?" I whisper.
"Two reasons," says Haymitch, "number one - so that you know that if it comes down to two of you, even if you're dying, hold on and you still have a hell of a chance."
I make a mental note of this.
"Second, don't use the force field as a weapon. The Gamemakers hate it."
I nod, because it doesn't sound like the sort of thing the Capitol would approve of.

We spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon together, lying in bed and whispering to each other, promises of love and strength in the days to come.
"Try to come back to me, sweetheart," says Haymitch. He begins drinking at around midday, and I don't try to stop him.
He keeps one arm firmly around me and I silently watch him as he takes a long swig of a clear liquid that emits a heady stench. At one point he offers the bottle to me but I shake my head.

"I need to keep my mind clear," I say.
At around mid afternoon, I put my underwear on but steal Haymitch's shirt due to my dress being in scraps on the floor.
Lucky thing, too, because just as I rejoin Haymitch on the soft bed, there's a commotion outside. I hear Effie Trinket, the District 12 escort, talking edgily to Eridan, presumably. Or maybe it's Alice.

"Why on EARTH would a District 8 Tribute be hiding here?" I hear Effie's shrill voice screeching.
"Calm yourself, woman. It's no disrespect to you," Eridan says, "she's not hiding either."
There's a knock on the door and then it opens. Eridan peers in, Taura, Coral and Jade peeping around him. When they see me the three girls let out girlish giggles and scurry off. Eridan looks amused. Effie Trinket looks outraged.

"Scandalous," she twitters like an angry songbird, "can you IMAGINE the gossip this will create!"
Haymitch stretches lazily and looks smugly pleased about something. Eridan, to his credit, says nothing negative, he just looks at me and then says;
"Time to go. For gods sake, your hair!"
I take this as my cue to leave. I lean over and kiss Haymitch deeply before I slide out of the bed, thankful for the little clothing I wear, ignoring the scandalised looks Effie is sending my way. Just to annoy her more, I lean down and kiss Haymitch again, then go over to Eridan. As we walk down the hallway, Effie Trinket on our heels, I smirk.
I have made Hunger Games history.

As Eridan ushers me into an elevator, a mischievous idea crosses my mind. As the glass doors close, I pull a truly dreadful face at Effie and then stick my middle finger up. The last thing I see is the disgusted look on her face as the elevator rockets upwards.

XxxxxxxxX

My prep team, being composed entirely of women, is insufferable. Taura is the most sensible - she hushes the giggling Jade and Coral as Eridan drops me off into their care.
I sit down in the chair and let them assess me.
"Christ, your hair!" Taura complains, as she attacks the tangles with a large brush.
Jade decides on shades of makeup for my face whilst Coral strips the chipped blue paint off my fingers and rummages for a new color.

Everything's silent for a while until Coral breaks the silence.
"What was it, er, like?" She asks and then dissolves into an embarrassed giggle fit.
I shake my head in amusement. I will genuinely miss this trio of colourful, airheaded Capitol girls. They aren't stupid and they can't help being superficial. If I'd been born in the Capitol I'd have probably turned out the same way.
"Umm.." I say.
How do I describe this to these girls? Surely they've had sex before.
"It was very romantic," I say, "but passionate too."
I seem to have quelled their curiosity because they return their focus solely to my hair and face. When Eridan comes in an hour or so later, carrying a long white garment bag, the girls have ceased all questions at me.

The bag contains a long, floor length ballgown, alternated shades of blues and purples. It's heavy, but lovely. The girls fix a hairpiece into my ginger hair. I realise it's a tiara of diamonds.
"I thought this design would give you some cheer," Eridan says and then I'm allowed to look into a mirror.

My dress looks like it's been made out of the sky, of space. Of galaxies and supernovas.
"Supernovas," I say quietly, and then I laugh, "ah, Eridan, you're great!"

We go down to the place where the interviews are taking place. Alex hobbles over to me, leaning heavily on his walking stick.
"Hey," I say cheerfully to him, "if you win, you can get your leg fixed."
Alex rolls his eyes at me.
"Novanna, I'm going to die in the bloodbath. I'm at peace with that. Rather me than some little kid."
I can't reply to that. What the hell does one say to that?

Finally I'm called for my interview and I step up onto the stage, receiving a huge round of applause from the Capitol audience.
Caesar Flickerman looks at me, all smiles.
"Novanna Switch," he says, "so nice to finally be able to hold a chat with you."
He gestures for me to sit. I do.
"So, Novanna, tell me," says Caesar, "what's something you really LIKE about the Capitol?"
A simple question. Excellent. This I can answer with no fault.
"The people," I say promptly.
I'm not shallow - I just know that flattery gets you places. Besides, the Capitol people I've actually met (aside from Effie Trinket), I actually like.

"The people?" Caesar says, clearly befuddled, "we've never had a Tribute say that before!" He's amused though, so it's ok.
"Yes," I say, "my prep team and stylist are all very lovely people."
I get applause from the audience. They love preening. It's despicable.
"So tell me, what's the biggest difference from home?" Caesar asks.
Oh there's many a difference, I think bitterly, like the fact that everyone here is so selfish. No. I scold myself away from anger. I have to PLEASE these people. I need their sponsorship.
I decide on something simple.
"The constant supply of water," I say.

"You don't have faucets at home?" Caesar says, amused at how "backwards" we District people are.
"No," I say, "We walk a mile or so to the wells, and collect our own water."
"Sounds like awful work!" Caesar jokes.
"It's not," I say, "we all sing on the way there and back."
Caesar pauses for a moment, letting the crowd quieten down.

"Now, in other topics, Novanna," says Caesar, "since you've arrived here, you've been the centre of gossip."
I shrug nonchalantly.
"I'm a Tribute," I say, "of course I'm going to be a subject of gossip."
Caesar smiles and shakes his head.
"I'm referring to your new friend you've made since you arrived here."
Crap. Haymitch and I knew this would happen. Luckily he's prepared me for it.
"Ah," I say sweetly, "nothing stays secret here, does it."
The audience laughs at my obviously feigned chagrin.

"So, can you tell me about him?" Caesar asks.
No. Not really. But I don't have a choice.
"It was love at first sight, for me." I say, "I don't know about him."
Caesar looks sympathetic.
"But what I know now is that he loves me, and that I love him just as much."

There's a pause whilst the audience yells encouragements to me.
"So of course, you'll be fighting to win?" says Caesar.
"No," I say, "I'm fighting to come home to Haymitch."

The buzzer goes off and Caesar wishes me best of luck before I have to leave the stage. Well. I've certainly made a splash.

XxxxxxxxxX

I don't sleep a wink that night. I confine myself to my room the minute we return from the interviews. Whilst Alex eats with Alice and our teams, I prowl my room and order food from the little unit. Once I've gorged myself and smashed some of the plates, I lay down on my bed and try to sleep.
Of course, it doesn't come.

After an hour, I get up, change into jeans and a sweater, then head up to the District 12 floor. Effie Trinket is sitting at the dining table. She looks up when she sees me.
"You shouldn't be here," she says, but she's not as snappy.
"Please," I say, "this could be my last night alive. Let me spend it happy."
Her expression droops.
"Alright," she says, "I never saw you."

I beam at her and scamper down the hallway to Haymitch's room. I prise open the door and am immediately hit with the stench of booze fumes.

"Haymitch?" I whisper.
I see him sitting at the desk, bottle of liquor in one hand.

"Whaddya want?" He slurs. I creep into the room and shut the door behind me.
"It's me, Haymitch," I say, "Novanna."

He looks at me through bleary grey eyes.

"Anna?" He slurs, "whad'arya doing here?"
"I get launched tomorrow," I say softly, "I wanted to see you."

He sets down the liquor and turns to look at me. Recognition sparks in those eyes.
"Anna?" His voice gets sharper, more alert.
"Yes?"

"Why come here? I'm drunk. I'm always drunk." He says.
"I know," I say.

He stares at me some more.
"Why did you come back?"

"Because I love you." I say, "and I might die tomorrow."
"And you wanted to make sure I'm not pitying you." It's not a question.

"Yes."
"I'm not."
"Prove it," I challenge.
"I already have," he snarls, "I had the fucking President interrogating me earlier. The fact that I'm still alive means he's fine with our love story."

"Snow interrogated you?" I whisper.
"Of course he fucking did," laughs Haymitch bitterly, "you're the star Tribute and I'm a Victor."

"Is he angry?" I ask meekly.
"Nah," Haymitch says, "but god forbid, you'd better come home alive."
I reach for him, even though he reeks of booze.

"I promise I'll try to win," I say.
"You better," says Haymitch, "I don't want to wake up one morning soon and find out I'm in love with a corpse."

I blink. It's the first time he's said it, even though it's offhand.
"You..." I stammer, "you what?"
He rolls his eyes.
"I'm in love with you, sweetheart, so you'd better come home to me."
I don't know the words to answer him, so I just cling to him and mould my mouth to his.

XxxxxxxX

Of course, before dawn, I return to my own floor. The night with Haymitch has given me strength for the days to come. As Haymitch walks me to the elevator, I unclasp the locket I have been wearing as a token.

"Keep this for me?" I ask, "In case I don't come home?"

"Always, sweetheart," he says, and slips it around his neck, hidden under his shirt. He takes one of his rings from his finger and places it in my palm, closing my fingers around it.

"Take this new token, sweetheart," he says, "and may the odds be ever in your favor."
I smirk. It's all I can do, else I'll cry.

XxxxxxX

The hovercraft ride is horrendous. I sit between Alex and the girl from District 3. The ring from Haymitch's smallest finger fits my middle finger perfectly. When we arrive in the catacombs beneath our new arena/prison, Eridan arrives, carrying a box which contains my Tribute uniform.
We go into my Launch Room, and I shower quickly, gobble as much food as I can hold, drink plenty, and then dress in the outfit provided.

It's long, cargo pants with plenty of pockets. They're a dark green so they're perfect for camouflage. The shirt is grey, short sleeved but thick. Finally, a thigh-length jacket which matches the cargo pants in color. The shoes are black boots, flat soled. Good for running and climbing.

The pleasant voice instructs me to step onto my launch pad.

"Remember," says Eridan, "try and stay calm."
I snort derisively.
"Calm?" I say as the tube lowers over me.
"It works wonders," Eridan says.

The launch pad begins to move upwards.
"GOOD LUCK!" Eridan yells as I'm lifted up, up, up, into this new arena of horrors.