What if Katniss and Peeta won the Hunger games, but there was no rebellion? What happens when Katniss gets her first district 12 girl to mentor?
Katniss' POV
I sit staring dumbly at the calendar. Today is the day of the reaping. The day I have been dreading for months. The day where some poor district 12 girl and boy are sent away from their families and into an arena to fight to the death. And I'm supposed to watch and act like they have a chance. No. I correct myself. I'm supposed to make sure they have a chance.
I look up and see Peeta walk into the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his waist and his eyes heavy with bags. He comes over to me and kisses me lightly on the lips. I moved into his house a few months after the Hunger Games; he helped keep the nightmares away. My mother and Prim still live in my old house in Victor's Village. Prim probably slept with my mother last night; she is still eligible to be reaped.
The thought scares me. I can't volunteer in her place anymore and nobody else will. I want to get out. To run to the woods; but I can't, Cinna will becoming over with the prep to help me to get ready; and while I miss my old friend, I dread him coming over, because I know, when he does, it means the Hunger Games are back.
I dress quickly and move downstairs almost in a daze. The capitol have been advertising the returning of the games for the last week, looking out of the window I see posters all with the same slogan. 'May the odds be ever in your favour.' It makes me sick. The odds were in my favour, but what about those 22 others? And those before them. The odds were never in their favour.
I'm interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Guessing that Peeta is getting dressed I move to the hall and answer the door. I am immediately swamped by all amounts of colour and to my amusement; feathers. Each member of my old prep team swoop in and kiss me on each cheek. As they move into the house; loudly commenting on how absolutely fabulous everything is from the carpet to the banister; I get engulfed into the hug I anticipated the most. Against Cinna's warm body I allow myself to break down for a few seconds, before composing myself and moving out of the hug to see Cinna's smiling, yet grave face.
Technically your old stylist and prep team shouldn't come to your district to help you prepare for the reaping, but they made allowances. I smile at my prep team; they are all laughing and giggling about the reaping today. In the capitol the reaping is something that is eagerly anticipated, and they laugh and mock the tributes. I grin at my prep team, acting the happy victor. "Peeta!" I call up to him with a cheery smile. "My prep team are here!" I wish he could come and save me from all these lies, but I know he can't; I must be happy. All of Panem will want to see their previous victor, ready to lead the next tribute to victory.
They all bustle me into the kitchen. They know where it is. All the victor's houses are identical in layout. They push me lightly down onto the stool and take off my dressing gown. I didn't bother getting dressed this morning, as I knew Cinna would have an outfit for me. Octavia immediately goes for my nails, occasionally tutting as she evens them and paints them. Venia moves to my hair and brushes it rhythmically. She cuts off a few of my split ends before putting my hair into my signature plait. Flavius works on my face, adding powders and such that I don't know the name of.
Cinna moves around the kitchen slowly, picking up various items, examining them before putting them down. He doesn't make any move to start conversation until my prep team are finished. When they hover around, asking if there is more to be done, he thanks them and asks them to wait in the living room. When the door shuts he turns to look at me.
He moves forward and cups my face in his hands and brushes a tear off my cheek.
"I know." Is all he says.
And I don't know if he does. I was his first tribute. He hadn't had to watch me die. He didn't have to live in the arena but I understand.
We stand there for a few seconds before he releases his grip on me and steps backwards. "If I could, I'd bet on you." He reminds me, smiling slightly. I smile back, blinking the water out of my eyes.
He moves over to his back and takes out a gorgeous summer dress. It is a light and drifting with the front just above my knees where it spreads down to the back down by my ankles. The top is tight with red lace sleeves. The whole thing itself is a deep red-orange, and it seems to glow and shift colour in the light, from red to orange.
"The girl on fire." I whisper. It was my name during the games. It screams the games at me. It was what made me known. What gave me sponsors. Cinna looks at me sympathetically.
"I know" He murmurs again. "I had to. It will make you remembered by the sponsors' and have them queuing up to sponsor the tributes, thinking him or her the next one on fire. And district 12 needs sponsors."
I didn't deny it. It's true. District twelve is not one of the more popular districts in the capitol and I would have died if I hadn't been sent the burn cream. The pain would have made me slow. I would have been dead within days.
He slides the dress over my head, a perfect fit of course. He makes a few quick adjustments to the dress before stepping back to admire his work.
I smile at him. "Perfect of course." Even with all of this my smile still seems fake. It is a relief when Peeta knocks on the door and enters in a respectable tux. He smiles at me.
"Beautiful." He walks forward and kisses me lightly on the lips and then once on the forehead before sighing. "Ready?" He asks.
I shake my head. "I'll never be ready."
He nods, understanding. I take his arm and he leads me through the kitchen and into the living room. We are greeted by screams of delight from my prep team. "Katniss you look fabulous!" all of them chorus. I smile at them, surprised they don't see the pain. Or maybe they do and don't comment. Either way I don't care. I don't let go of Peeta once as he leads me from the house, the prep team surround Cinna, babbling about how exciting it is that they could attend a real reaping.
I glance to my left. The wood, I crave their solitude. The darkness and dampness that I know so well. The tall and secluded trees that I grew up in. I grip his arm tighter; my fingers feeling the muscle under it. We arrive in the main square in a couple minutes and take our seats up on the stage by Haymitch who gives us a drunken wave. Normally the victors don't sit on stage, but because District 12 is the winning district, we get our victors on the stage. What an honour.
Haymitch must be glad, with no more tributes to mentor unless one of us dies. I wonder if he will go off the drink. Unlikely. We watch the people filling into the square, the boy, girls and parents separated. I see Prim standing there in her reaping outfit. Please, not her. I beg.
There are people crying, some are trying to joke with their friends but you see the fear. Most of them are grim or expressionless. We wait a few more minutes for the small population of District twelve to file in.
Effie then comes on stage, wearing an unattractive yellow dress; that flares out in every direction possible.
As the clock strikes two the mayor comes up and tells everyone about the history of Panem, the brutal war and the capitol that won, and every year to remember we celebrate in the form of the Hunger Games. It is the same story every year. He reads through the list of victors, which is now four, three of us still live, Haymitch, Peeta and myself.
He beckons Effie forward who smile and gives her signature greeting.
"Welcome welcome to the 75th hunger games!" the audience give a scattered applause. "And may the odds be ever in your favour!" Her large green curls frame her pale face, making it look drawn out and thin.
"Right! Ladies first!" She moves to one of the large balls with thousands of slips in it. She dips her hand inside, moving around slowly, her fingers hovering around the slips teasingly. The audience is hushed.
When she takes out a slip of white paper, folded neatly in the middle I can't even breathe.
She looks up and into the cameras and with a smile and a loud voice reads;
"Anna Burnet!"
I let out a gasp of air, not prim. I look up and see a medium sized girl with long brown hair and blue eyes, she holds herself well, no look of fear that I know so well in my prey's eyes. She walks steadily up the stairs and stands by the podium.
Effie seems pleased. One year a young child clung to her crying, you could practically hear her yelling at the child for running her silk dress.
"Now for the boys." She moves to the second glass ball and moves her fingers around it, tantalisingly close but never touching any of them. She picks up a thin sheet, folded neatly in half like the last, she gives the audience a cheeky wink, before opening it and reading;
"Jace Night!"
I feel Peeta stiffen and as I see Jace come on stage I realise I recognise him from school, he is seventeen and from one of the merchant families. He must have hung out with Peeta sometimes.
Jace is good looking, both of them are, he seems bored by the events, maybe I have some good people with a chance to work with.
Effie smiles, her red lipstick cracked and on her teeth.
"Shake hands."She murmurs. Anna puts her and out and Jace lazily shakes it.
"The tributes of district twelve!" Effie screeches into the crowd who respond with quiet clapping.
The peacekeepers come forward and march Jace and Anna through the wooden doors.
I watch as they leave, a quiet determination coming over myself. I'll get one of you out alive.
And we all stand up as the anthem plays. What an honour.