Authoress' Note: This story is premised on the idea that there was no 2nd uprising due to a series of natural disasters that deflected attention away from Katniss, Peeta, and the possibility of rebellion. If anything, anti-Capitol sentiment waned slightly as it was the Capitol that affected repairs on badly damaged infrastructure and ended an outbreak of a new and deadly disease in Districts 10. As a result, the Hunger Games continued another 16 years till District 12 tribute Concordia Trinket-Abernathy was reaped.
Forces of Nature: Part 1
(a Hunger Games AU)
by Arianwen P.F. Everett
Concordia Trinket-Abernathy strode confidently towards the third row of young girls, ensuring that she would be the first of the thirteen-year-olds seen when the cameras panned over the crowd. This was her second reaping and she knew in her gut she was going to be the female tribute from District 12 this year despite the fact that her name was only in the reaping ball twice and she had no intention of volunteering.
No, her Aunt Theodora, Mommy's sister, had publicly supported loosening restrictions on District citizens hunting, fishing, and gardening some of their own food after last year's heatwave destroyed nearly the entire grain crop in Nine and a quarter of the produce from Eleven. Famine had run rampant throughout most of the Districts and even otherwise oblivious Capitol Citizens were alarmed by the staggering levels of death from malnutrition and starvation in the poorer districts.
According to Grandpa, who was one of the most respected attorney's in the Capitol, before the Dark Times the Capitol Assembly, to which Aunt Thea was a member, had held the powers of the president in check, and Concordia understood that Snow couldn't risk those days returning in the form of Assemblywoman Theodora Trinket-Carlisle's campaign to sure up district food supplies. She'd seen Grandma Garnet and Uncle Birch's graves in Twelve and Aunt Johanna's family plots during the two weeks she'd spent in Seven last year, so she knew how Snow punished those whose words or deeds forced his hand and the public clamor to stop the famine had indeed compelled him to issue temporary hunting, fishing, and harvesting licenses to district citizens. From his perspective, it was a rare political defeat and like the sickly, old animal he now was, Snow would strike at any slight.
Auntie Thea and their other relatives in the Capitol had too many important connections for Snow to snuff out. No, they were all safe, and Mommy and Daddy were safe because Daddy was a victor and Mommy was beloved in the Capitol for giving up a life of leisure to marry him. Since Concordia's birth her entire family had worked hard to keep her out of the spotlight as much as possible in order to prevent anyone dangerous from taking too great an interest in the Victor and the Escort's only child, but the moment she'd learned that Uncle Peeta would be the male mentor for the 90h hunger games, when it was supposed to be her father's year, Concordia had concluded that the reaping would be rigged and not at all in her favor.
While she was taller, stronger, and better fed than most girls in Twelve, Concordia was still only thirteen, and the careers were always 18 or very close to it. There was no way she could become a Capitol favorite on physical stature alone, and while she planned to wow the Gamemakers with the shooting skills she'd picked up hunting with Aunt Katniss, her interview for individual assessment was still days away. If she were to survive, she had to start getting sponsors and allies before then, and once she'd gotten over the initial terror of knowing she was going to be sent into the arena, Concordia had mapped out a strategy. She knew she was cute and very good at convincing adults to bend to her will, even when money was involved; she would start there.
To set her plan into motion, she'd had Grandma Evangeline ship her current outfit all the way from Capitol Kids Boutique. The ruffled orange taffeta mini-dress over shiny mauve tights made Concordia stand out sharply among the other girls in Twelve, but that was the point. When her name was called, she wanted all those in the Capitol to see a child, just like their own, mount the stage and stand before Panem knowing she was being sent to a bloodbath. She wanted them to imagine, if only for a microsecond, that it was their daughter.
She would use that empathy, along with her family's connections in the Capitol to see her through. Auntie Theodora was probably already wracked with guilt, but Concordia didn't need her guilt; she needed her to work on getting sponsors from all her well-heeled campaign donors who still had use of the Assembly in their power jockeying. Considering how much they spent on the games every year, even a modest donation from each one would ensure Concordia had all she needed to become a victor.
Pulling herself from her thoughts to smile sweetly for the the camera, Concordia watched as her mother's replacement, Valencia Monroe, took the stage and started the propo that always preceded the reaping. Rather than listen to Snow's propaganda, Concordia mentally reviewed her speech to calm her nerves.
Unfortunately, her father chose that moment to look her in the eye and her heart sped up. She had to live. She had to survive the arena for him, for Uncle Chaff, for Aunt Johanna, and for all the other victors who had lost so much because of their participation in the Hunger Games. While she felt totally at ease placing her life in Aunt Katniss and Uncle Peeta's hands, they had Willow and Rye and the rest of their families; the others needed her more. She would stay alive for them.
If there was any silver lining in this mess, it was that Queen Mags had died three years ago and hadn't lived to see her reaped, but Concordia could always use the dear, grandmotherly victor's memory to calm herself when the fear of going into the arena became too much. In her mind, she'd return to the days when she and the matriarch of the boisterous family of victors would just sit silently, cuddled together on the couch, as the others teased and argued and just generally hung out in one or another's suit at the training center the night before they'd all return to their districts after that year's games. As a little girl, struggling to keep up with conversations that were far beyond her understanding, those warm, spindly arms had felt like unconditional love and confidence.
The loss of them had been terrible, but surviving the pain had toughened Concordia enough that she could help mitigate the death toll the heatwave and subsequent famine had wrought in Twelve. With her parent's blessing, she'd run off with Aunt Katniss every chance they got, no matter how sore and exhausted those open ended expeditions made them, bringing back as much food as possible. Concordia supplemented the birds, squirrels, rabbits, and deer that she'd been able to bring down with edible plants and mushrooms that she'd learned about from a book she'd bought in the Capitol, one forbidden to District citizens. Queen Mags, both in life and in death, had silently taught her that even though she might not understand everything she encountered in life, with the right guidance, she could act to make things better. Aunt Katniss had become that guiding force during the famine and together they'd managed to feed many families in the Seam. Concordia knew Aunt Katniss would guide her again through the arena and perhaps one day, she could pay both victors' guidance forward to another little girl.
Suddenly Concordia heard the words she'd defined as her cue and stood up straight. "So, without further ado, ladies first!"
Concordia took a deep breath and forced herself to appear eager as she waited for the lavishly painted woman to totter over to the reaping bowl and pull out a slip of paper.
Putting a hand to her chest in mock relief, Valencia Monroe commented under her breath. "The odds must be in my favor today. Finally a girl's name I can pronounce. Concordia Trinket-Abernathy!"
Concordia squealed as if she'd just won front row tickets and back stage passes to see Omanique Dale in concert, then turned to Kimberlite O'Brien, who had been standing next to her, briefly hugged her, and whispered as if she were speaking to a dear, old friend. "Better luck next year."
Kimberlite stood, wide-eyed in shock, as the cameras focused on her and Concordia felt a tiny moment of remorse. She barely knew the girl, but she'd used her as a prop and probably scared her and her family something crazy. The O'Briens were a nice family and didn't deserve that. She hoped Mommy would force Daddy to help her make it up to them while she was away in the games.
Before the peacekeepers assigned to bring the tributes to the stage could reach her, Concordia dashed up the steps and threw herself onto her new escort whose own shock left her barely able to stutter out "Thank.. Thank.. Thank you, Dear!"
"Oh no, thank you! This is the greatest moment of my life! And I promise everyone in Twelve that I'm going try my best to win the games and bring glory home to our district!" Concordia enthused into the microphone before stepping back to let Miss Malone continue the reaping, proud everything had gone off without a hitch. Daring a look up at Daddy, Uncle Peeta, and Aunt Katniss, she saw they were all proud of how well she'd done, despite the grave expressions they were wearing for the cameras.
Then the other shoe dropped.
"March Brenner!" the name of her District partner rang out, snapping Concordia's attention back to the reaping. Of all the boys in Twelve, March was the worst possible outcome.
At seventeen, he was a hothead and a bruiser, just the kind of guy who'd think himself capable of running with the career pack. In short, he had little potential as an ally but could become a major obstacle to her plans, and as they were to share a suite, an escort, and mentors for the next few days before the games, she'd have to be constantly on her guard, even when discussing strategy with her team. Once she was on the train she'd have to see where his mind was on his reaping and devise a strategy to keep him out of her hair.
"Well, shake hands you two," Valencia Monroe coached as Concordia approached March, her best on-camera smile plastered to her face.
All of a sudden her hand was on fire as March's large fingers attempted to cruelly squeezed the life out of hers. Refusing to give him the cry of pain she knew he wanted all potential sponsors watching to hear, Concordia spun into her district partner's personal space and elbowed him in the face before jamming her kitten heel into his foot and pushing him as far away from her as possible with both of her now free hands. "Miss Monroe said shake hands, not break hands, you Creep!"
"She broke my nose! The little monster broke my nose!" March growled as blood gushed down his one good shirt and he lunged towards Concordia, only to be held back by a peacekeeper who'd finally arrived on stage.
"Children! Children! Restrain yourselves!" Valencia Monroe howled, smacking March's muscular forearm with her folded fan.
While holding her father's eyes to keep him from storming the stage and gutting March with the knife he'd started keeping in his boot the day Mommy had told him she was on the way, Concordia sighed before carefully moving towards March, her arms out at her sides as if to show all of Panem that she meant him no more harm. "I apologize. I didn't mean to injure you, but I can't afford a broken hand. They don't heal as quickly as a noses do. If you like, my Uncle Grecian is the best pediatrician in the Capitol. I'm sure he could get your nose back into tip top shape by the time the gong sounds in the arena."
Concordia knew she'd hit her mark with that last line. She'd not only come off as the rational and innocent party, but had beaten up a boy far larger than herself, and then implied he was still a child by suggesting he see a pediatrician. As soon as she could get out of the range of Capitol TV's microphones, she'd have to apologize to Uncle Peeta for making his upcoming attempts to get sponsors for March so difficult, but she'd had no choice. Had she not responded as she did, her dominant hand would have been broken and his tribute would have succeeded in making her look like a little girl, not a viable tribute, in front of all of Panem. That was not the image she was going for.
Recognizing his defeat, March looked out on the sea of disapproving faces before him and stared them all down as best he could while plugging his nose with the tissues the mayor's wife had handed him. He only flinched slightly when his now mentor, Peeta Mellark, gently patted his shoulder and, with equal silence, turned him towards the arriving car that would take them to the train station.
As they rode the short distance through the crowds gathered to see them off, Concordia began to formulate a plan to deal with her district partner. She'd assumed that Snow's lackeys would have selected a weakling, so naturally uncoordinated and terrified of the games that his clinginess would get her killed in the arena. However, if there was one thing Concordia had learned from her extended family of victors it was that you'd never survive the Hunger Games if you didn't possess inhuman levels of flexibility and the the creativity to create a plan B for every plan A you devised moment to moment. Perhaps March's reaping wasn't the detour she'd thought; perhaps it was an opportunity to sharpen her skills before her life literally depended on them.