AN#1: Hello everyone! This is new territory for me; I've never written any THG fanfiction before… So if this idea has already been done, I'm sincerely sorry. :D
Getting on with it… This is an AU for the first book, like stated in the summary. In this story, Prim and Rory (Gale's brother) have switched places. Also, in this story, Rory and Prim are the same age.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, nor am I writing for profit. That all belongs to Suzanne Collins. :]
-/-/-/-
It is reaping day.
Gale and I have been hunting since before dawn, but now the sun is high in the sky, so we rest. We rest and we try not to think about how it is Prim and Rory whose lives are on the line today.
Not just us.
Gale clutches the hand nearest him and thumbs the knuckles, and I gift him a smile. We do not talk about the pact, because it is all we think of.
Sometimes, I think about the Games, and I think I might have a chance. That maybe, just maybe, I could win.
But I would only volunteer if Prim were called.
I have Rory to think about.
And then the rumble of a hovercraft is vibrating the ground. We crouch low in the high grass and wait until the ground is still again, and then stand and embrace, silently thank each other.
"Make sure Prim's hair is brushed," I joke. Gale smirks at me.
"Make sure Rory's teeth are brushed."
I return the sentiment, and we cross through the fence. It's over.
It's time.
-/-/-/-
Rory is silent, sullen, when I return, my game bag hardly full and hair frizzy from the morning humidity.
I scrub myself clean, make sure Rory is dressed and that his tie is knotted and his slacks ironed. Our mother pit pats around, arranging the part in his hair and sticking metal pins into mine, sighing.
She sighs a lot on Reaping Day. Always has.
I let her do these things for me, let her tuck my hair in and wipe invisible spots from my face.
And then the Anthem starts.
We leave the house in a hurry, but as we reach the square, Madge, blonde curls loose, rushes over from the girl's side, a red dot still tattooed on her fingertip. Her eyes are wide with fear or excitement, I cannot tell which. Her hands are shaking as she pulls at the gold pin at her breast, undoes it and goes to stick it on Rory's collar, eyeing me, not my mother, for permission.
I nod, forcing a smile, and Madge smiles back, pinning it on his lapel quickly.
And then I look at it.
"A mockingjay!" Rory breathes in wonder.
I feel my mouth go dry, and Madge looks to me as she speaks.
"Yes," she stutters, her eyes definitely scared now, no room for confusion. "For luck."
Vaguely, I remember Rory thanking her. I remember kissing his forehead and whispering that everything would be alright. And I remember pricking my finger and heading to the corral that they keep us girls in.
Madge's words unsettle me, her actions as well, and all I can think is that Madge is the mayor's daughter, she's the mayor's daughter, and that she always knew things before the rest of us.
I catch Gale's eye from across the walkway and he nods, Rory in his sights.
He is his now.
Prim looks to Gale, and then back to me. I smile big. She smiles back at me, and I know, that she is in no danger here. Never was. Won't be for another two years, if I make it that long, when I will be too old to take her death sentence.
But I know the chances of her – and Rory, for that matter – being pulled are slim to none. Neither Gale of I have allowed them to barter their lives for grain and oil, so their names are each in once.
The chances, in my case, are not so good. Gale's even worse.
This is Gale's last year. After today he will never participate in another Reaping. There will be no one to volunteer for Rory if he is chosen next year, or the year after that.
Which just means I will have to try harder for him.
He smiles timidly at me from across the way, stroking his pin nervously.
Mockingjays.
He doesn't remember our father, but I do. I remember the way he sang to the birds, and how they sang back to him.
I remember how the day after he died, when I ran into the woods to cry and hunt, they had sung it right back to me.
Effie Trinket taps on the microphone. A hush falls over the crowd. Town children who have no tesserae cling to each other in mortal fear, while the starving children of the Seam wait blankly for a demise they have already been destined for.
Effie is dressed as ridiculously as ever, bedecked in pink everything, from her hair to her dress to her skin. I cannot see from where I'm at, but I'd bet a dozen coins on even her eyelashes boasting the gaudy color. Haymitch, District 12's only surviving victor, slouches behind her, beside the mayor, his head on his fist, a silver flask in his grip.
She poises her fingers high, a large smile playing on her magenta lips. Her feet shuffle on the temporary stage as she glances from section to section.
"Hello, hello, and hello!" she sings, her voice high and excited and so very Capitol.
She continues on with her spiel of this tradition for which our country is known for. War and sacrifice. Our duty. A reminder.
"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor," she finishes.
If I were not so scared, I would have rolled my eyes, like I have done the past four Reaping days of my adolescence.
"Ladies first!" she chirps. Her high heels click on the temporary stage as she makes her way to the first bowl.
I see a face just ahead of me in the sea of curls and braids.
Someone – Madge – has turned away from Effie, is looking to the boys.
I follow her line of sight, and my eyes fall on Gale, whose hands are clenched tight, his jaw set.
My stomach knots.
Effie is fishing around in the bowl, her gloved fingers twirling over the little, sealed pieces of paper. She snatches one right off the top and marches back over to the microphone.
I watch Prim's little head, look over and up to watch Rory's.
Effie grins again, if she ever stopped, and looks to us.
"The female tribute of District 12, for the 74th Annual Hunger Games," she preludes, her voice gaining bravado and volume.
She pops the seal on the slip and unfolds it smoothly, taking a breath.
I hold my own.
"Primrose Hawthorne!"
I release.
-/-/-/-
We never told our mothers of the pact.
It was the Sunday of Prim's 12th birthday. It wasn't a good birthday, probably the worst number, if we were all being honest about it. 11 was a much better number; the last year before true, adult fear would set in. Or 19, which signified freedom from a monster that was trying to murder you once a year, every year, like clockwork.
12 meant that for the next seven years of your life, you were up for a death sentence.
But, nonetheless, it was a birthday, Prim's, and Hazelle, their mother, was baking a cake. Gale and I were to bring home something good to cook, and something else to sell for her present.
We were taking our midmorning rest for breakfast in the high grass, chewing on lukewarm cheese and tubers.
"She wouldn't survive, Katniss. Not ten minutes," he had breathed, the words tumbling from his mouth like a confession, his face pinched and angry.
I hadn't said anything at first, just pondered. Rory would be twelve in two months, which meant him and Prim would be in the Reaping Pool that year.
I, of course, had thought on it. I'd thought on it and dreamed of it and schemed about it.
But if he were pulled, I could not volunteer.
All I could do was keep him off of the tessarae, and hope he wasn't pulled.
So I reached out to take his hand.
"If I could just volunteer…," he whispered, looking out to where the sun was rising and sighing deep. "If I could just volunteer, I would be able to sleep at night."
The idea had come to me then, quietly, like a ghost tickling my ear.
"I would volunteer for her, Gale," I said simply, watching him through squinted eyes. He had whirled around to face me then, a look of awe and understanding etched on his face.
His sigh was shaky, but he nodded quickly.
"And I for Rory," he had answered, watching me carefully.
I shook my head at him at that, but I remember being so angry at myself, because Rory was worth more to me than Gale. Gale could last longer. Gale could win.
Rory could not.
But if Gale left, and died, his family would be destitute.
And so I had swallowed hard.
"And if…if we didn't make it back, we'd take care of the other's family, right?"
Gale had nodded, had looked down at my hand in his. He had tilted his head to look me in the eyes and he had nodded again. "I swear."
And so I had sworn as well.
We had feasted that night on wild turkey, and had used the feathers and three squirrels and a hare to buy her a simple silver locket.
I never knew what she put in it, she had told me it was a secret, and in that moment, I was sure I would never know.
-/-/-/-
Distantly, I hear Hazel cry out in shock. Prim is ramrod still in front of me, but the second her hands go to her waistband, the words explode from me, launching themselves free, and I am flying into the aisle before she can take a step, right into the arms of the Peacekeepers.
"I volunteer!" I screech, my voice desperate and shattering with my conviction. "I volunteer as tribute!"
A dull roar falls over the crowd as Effie looks uncertainly to the mayor and the Peacekeepers who have me in their iron grips.
Prim begins to cry, begging me not to, but her cries only join those of Hazelle and my mother. I look back to see Rory sobbing into his palms, Gale's face hard but quavering, his eyes red and his jaw revealing fury.
Effie says something about protocol, but Haymitch slurs at her to shut up, and the mayor shrugs his shoulders in disgust and tells her to get on with it.
I swallow.
I am going to die.
I am going to die.
This is it.
Effie begins chirping something unintelligible, but I understand enough to speak my name into the microphone.
My eyes search out my family in the crowd, and though I know I will be allowed to say good-bye in a couple of minutes, I want to speak to them now, apologize, tell them how sorry I am.
I find Madge in the crowd, and her eyes are wide with shock, her hands over her mouth. She shakes her head at me, horrified.
I swallow and step to the side, fight the bile that is rising from the pits of my stomach.
It's over.
It's all over.
Effie walks back to the microphone, paper in hand. She pops the seal and says her peace, and the name tumbles from her lips, and now she is no longer so happy, her voice quivering a little.
"Rory Everdeen. A bit of sibling rivalry never hurt anyone, am I right?"
I swallow and I feel like laughing, feel like throwing back my head and cackling as our world comes crashing down around us, everything gone.
The cries of my mother and Hazelle pause just long enough for Rory to sniffle and move towards the aisle.
I feel my face fall as Gale's freezes in shock.
He's not going to.
He's not going to.
"I volunteer as tribute," he croaks.
I sigh with relief and hate myself for it immediately.
And then Hazelle is screaming, Prim is screaming, my mother is moaning and Rory is beating on Gale with his small, weak little fists and everything is happening so fast that I can hardly process it.
A blonde boy with thick shoulders drags my brother away as the Peacekeepers escort Gale to the stage. I stare at him and wonder how we could have possibly done this to ourselves.
He speaks his name to Effie and she makes a comment about how I must have volunteered for his sister, and isn't it funny how things work out like that?
It's over then, and we are escorted back to rooms to say our good-byes.
-/-/-/-
AN#2: Let me know what you think!