Aconite Snow, president of Panem

I'm up at 5am. I always am, these days - even on my days off, I can't seem to break the habit. It's nice, anyway - when I was young, with all the free time I could ever want, I'd go to bed late and only get up at midday, and I'd miss the whole morning. In that way, being kept busy is nice. The free time I do have, I spend well, making the most of it the way I never used to.

That's the thing about living in the Capitol. You become used to having so much, it's difficult not to take things for granted. Whereas the people of the 12 districts, with nothing at all, they have to learn to make the most of every little thing, because it's all they've got. In that way, they are a lot more powerful, more dangerous, than most of us would like to think.

All this, my grandfather taught me back when I was a child. I've had plenty of years to get my head round it, learn to stretch what I have out as far as I possibly can. He always imagined me following in his footsteps one day, I think, becoming the president of Panem. The most powerful person in the world. And he wanted to make sure I did it his way.

I didn't really see it that way back then, of course. I was just a kid, who assumed that adults knew everything, that they were always right, and - this sounds stupid, I know - I genuinely thought that my grandfather wanted to see me because he liked me. Because I was his grandfather; not just a tool to pass his philosophies on to.

So once a year, just after the games had ended, my father would take me to go and visit him in his office, to watch the recap of the games. I won't lie, back then I did sometimes imagine what it would be like to be in his position. To own this, all of it - the beauty and glamour of the Capitol. It seemed like the most wonderful thing in the world - I never dreamed of the responsibilities that would come with all that power.

"That's the key, Ace," my grandfather, the first President Snow, would tell me as a particularly brutal killing came onscreen. I resisted the urge to look away, like I would have at home; I always was way too squeamish. But I couldn't be; not now. I had to be rock solid, just like everyone expected me to be.

"No mercy," Grandfather continued. "Not even the tiniest bit. Because to waver, to show any cracks, any human in you - they take that as weakness. And they crush you with it. You have to be flawless. Smooth as ice." He picked up the crystal wine glass in front of him, running his fingers gently over its smooth edges. It was flawless; I imagined that one glass must have cost hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars. "Or -" and he picked up the glass, still holding it up gently, so gently. Brought it close to my face, letting me see the perfection. And smashed it in his fists.

I flinched back, as thousands of tiny shards of glass flew into my face. Felt a jab as the tiniest piece cut into my cheek; a trickle of blood begin to drip.

"That's how," Grandfather told me. "Perfection; it's delicate. Keep it intact."

This is definitely a day to remember Grandfather's warnings. So I am up at five, all my stylists ready and waiting, booked in months ago to start planning today's look. I eat breakfast first; the perfect amount, calories added up to keep me looking flawless, but with just the right amount of energy to give myself the optimum productivity. Go over today's schedule with my PA, just to check I remember every detail. Check the time. And wait.

Being early is good; being too early can be risky. I want to be on the dot, but aloof, on top of things; arriving hours early will just make me seem desperate, insecure. So I time it perfectly; arrive exactly five minutes before the meeting is scheduled to start. I'm the first one there, but only just; this is good. My car pulls up a second before that of the head gamemaker, Justus Sharpe. This is his third year planning the games, but he's been on the team for years; gradually pulling himself up until he took the top position. We don't really talk much outside of planning, but I remember I'll be seeing a lot more of him over the next few years. Planning for the quarter guell is already in progress, even though it's over two years ago, so I've already been seeing more of Justus Sharpe than I would like.

I nod at him automatically as I get out of the car. His nod back mimics mine perfectly; nothing more, nothing less. He sees life in the same way as my grandfather; a constant, if subtle, battle for power. Well, I am the one with the power here, whether he likes it or not.

So I walk over. I consider smiling, but no; for someone like him, even the slightest human emotion is a sign of weakness. With people like that, you have to be careful, extremely careful, and unfortunately, as president I come into contact with all too many of them. I suppose it just takes a certain ruthlessness, a certain cold mind, to be in power, especially in a place like this. And the only way for someone like me to survive here is to be just as stone cold. Otherwise, I'm a goner.

"Nice day," I remark. It's neutral; and not really true or false. The Capitol does not really have much of what you would call weather left, since pretty much the entire city has perfect temperature control.

Justus gives one brisk nod. "Just a shame we'll be indoors."

"So, where have you got to so far, planning the Games?" I ask.

"Oh, I've had a few ideas. I want to run them by the other game-makers before we make any firm plans, though."

So I'm the last to know. Technically, as president, I could demand he tell me, but I'd need a good reason, unless I want to look desperate, and like I'm struggling to hold on to my power. And I can tell that Justus knows it; this is his way of showing me that he is in control, at least this time.

Or maybe I'm being paranoid. I just still can't always quite be sure of how these people are thinking. So I just nod, unfazed. Pretend that I do.

"Hopefully this meeting will give you a chance to go over your plans," is all I say. "So close to the quarter quell, we need the next Hunger Games to be memorable. Keep people glued to the screen, put up plenty of hype. We need to give the audience a story they won't forget."

"Oh, we will," Justus says. "Just leave it to me."

Leave it to me. Of course. If I was my grandfather, I would, even now, be scanning for possible reasons to have him executed. To remove the opposition. But somehow, the thought of doing something like that just leaves a sick, unshiftable feeling in my stomach. As much as I try, I can't think like that. My mind doesn't work the way theirs does. And that is the problem.

Hi! I've never written an SYOT before, but I've been reading and submitting to them for years now, and I've always wanted to have a go at writing my own, only I've been busy with school exams and all that. Now I've left school, so I thought I'd make use of the time now I'm not constantly revising (or procrastinating) every hour of the day!

So, if you hadn't figured it out for some reason, in my story's universe, obviously the rebellion didn't happen. Peeta died of blood poisoning before Katniss could get to him, so Foxface never ate the berries, and ended up tricking both Katniss and Cato into falling to their deaths in the finale. Which meant that the hunger games were still going years later, President Snow's grand-daughter eventually becoming the new president.

On to the rules:

The story is first come first serve, but I'd really rather there weren't any spot reservations, unless you absolutely have to and are only going to take a day or so to submit. You can submit up to two tributes, but if you do one of them will probably end up being a bloodbath. You're welcome to submit tributes you've already sent in to discontinued stories, because I know how annoying it is when you create a good character and they never get used! And the more detailed and well developed characters are, the better! I want something I can work with to get a good story. Complex backstories are great, but I don't want them to be all their is to a character. It is possible for someone to have both a complex personality and an interesting background, you know!

Some of the sections on the form will be for a potential blog, but I've never made one before so bear with me! It might take a while to set up, and I want to get to know tributes first, so be patient!

And I think that's it. The form will also be on my profile. Have fun submitting!

Name:

Age: (A good mix, please.)

Gender:

District:

Personality:

Personality summary (for the blog, so a couple of sentences):

Back story:

Appearance:

Faceclaim (try to get normal looking people who actually look the age of the tribute you're submitting. If you're stuck, pinterest is really good for finding pictures):

Blog quote (something your tribute would typically say, again summing up their personality):

Song: (Just any song that you think really fits their character. Both for the blog and because it'll be really fun for me to listen to while writing them!)

Family:

Friends:

Reaped or volunteered:

Reaction/reason:

Reaping, interview and chariot outfits (suggestions):

Interview angle:

Training score (suggestion):

What they show game-makers:

What they do in bloodbath:

Skills:

Games Strategy:

Weapon of choice:

Anything else: (optional)