THE NIGHTMARE GAMES

A/N: So this has been in my head a while. Don't really know where this is headed but thought I'd at least give it a try. I know I usually do castings from the start but since I'm in testing waters with this one, I'll do the castings each chapter of the when the characters will first appear. It won't be like my other ficc that I'll update consecutively. Like, when I get around reading the chapters and it's not narrative so it will be easier for me to twist it up a bit more. I'm still focused on my disney au's. So yeah. Before you get bored and not read this, let's start!

The lullaby song you think of the tune 'Kiss the rain.' I liked that cover version.

Disclaimer: Hunger games is owned by Suzanne Collins. Characters are either owned by Rise of the Guardians/Dreamworks, How to train your Dragon/Dreamworks, and other animations. I own nothing.

Jackson - Katniss

Emma - Prim

Mrs. Overland - Mrs. Everdeen

Mr. Overland - Mr. Everdeen

Jamie - Gale

Stoick - Mr. Mellarck

Toothiana - Effie Trinket

Gothi - Greasy Sae

Hiccup - Peeta

Toothless - Mockingjay

Snotlout - One of Peeta's brothers that never really made an appearance in either movie(at least, part one, haven't watched two yet) or book

Valka - Mrs. Mellarck

Heather - Madge

Aster - Haymitch

Burgess - Panem

Berk - The Capitol

Guardians - Peacekeepers

The Reaping

"AHHH!"

"Emma, shh, shh, hush, it was just a dream..."

"It was me... Jack, it was my name...*sob sob*"

"No, it wasn't you. Just a bad dream, Ems. You're okay, I got you. You only got one name in there, no way are they gonna pick you, let's go back to sleep..."

"Will you sing that song for me?"

"Sure Ems...

Deep in the meadow. Under the willow.

A bed of grass. A soft green pillow.

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes.

And when again they open, the sun will rise.

Here it's safe, here it's warm.

Here the daisies guard you from every harm.

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true.

Here is the place where I love you...

~o~

When Jack woke up again, the other side of the bed is cold. He stretches out, seeking Emma's warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress.

She must have had bad dreams again and climbed in with mom...

And Jack wouldn't doubt it at all, it was the day of reaping, and his little sister's first year of having her name placed. As if Jack would ever have her sign up, it's just too bad it was mandatory when they reached twelve years old. Jack props himself up on one elbow. There's enough light in the bedroom to see them; His little sister, Emma, curled up on her side, cocooned in Mrs. Overland's body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, their mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Emma's face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as any flower. Their mother was very beautiful once, too.

Or so everyone tells Jack.

He only believes it when he looks at Emma, who they also say looks like her. And he'd have to agree. More than him, anyway, and gender doesn't really have much to do with it. Sitting at Emma's knees, guarding her, is the world's ugliest cat. Jack's opinion. Even if he did get it for her.

He was probably right.

Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the color of rotting squash. Emma named her Buttercup, insisting that her muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower. Jack was never fond of it, and they argued about it once.

She hates me.

No she doesn't. You bought her.

For you. She still thinks I'm gonna cook her without you guarding it...

It was probably true, too. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas before Jack had it cleaned when he was gonna cook it. He still remembers how he tried to drown her after he brought it home to prepare for his sister's birthday dinner, until Emma begged her brother if she could keep it, and he allowed it somewhat reluctantly. The last thing the older Overland sibling needed was an extra mouth to feed. But Emma begged so hard, cried even, he had to give it to her.

It made her happy at least...

Mrs. Overland didn't care either way. She rarely did anymore.

It turned out okay. Mrs. Overland cleaned her off from any vermin every now and then, and she's a born mouser. It even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when Jack cleans a kill, he feeds the cat the entrails. It stopped hissing at him as much since then, and those were the only times they more than tolerated each other.

Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

Jack swing his legs off the bed. He pulls on trousers, a white long-sleeved shirt, his poncho over his shoulders, and made to grab his forage bag. He usually prefers going barefoot, but they keep the supple leather hunting boots as remembrance to their father. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Emma's gift to Jack for every reaping day. Buttercup wakes and hisses at Jack, seeing the cheese. The boy merely narrows his eyes at the creature his sister calls a pet.

"I'll still cook you."

Another hiss.

He puts the cheese carefully in his pocket as he slip outside.

Their part of District 12—having squat houses with roofs covered in snow yearly—is what everyone calls the Seam. Usually, the villagers that live there are ice makers, carvers, gatherers and the like. They're at the very coldest part of the country so they get snow even when it's supposedly spring, summer, or autumn for the other districts. Basically they get it year-round. There's an underground lake in a mine and that's where the people are heading out to the morning shift at this hour since they basically can't go out to the woods for the job due to the fence surrounding the district.

Before the war, they were able to harvest ice in the nearest snow-capped mountain, but now the government forbade it.

Men and women with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, many who have long since numbed out from all the frost and ice, the lines of their sunken faces. But today the dirt-covered snow streets are empty. Shutters on the squat gray houses powdered by white snow are closed. The reaping isn't until two. If anyone could sleep in, they can.

The Overland home is almost at the edge of the Seam. Jack only has to pass a few gates to reach the scruffy field called the Meadow. Separating the meadow from the woods, in fact enclosing all of District 12, is a high chain-link fence topped with barbed-wire loops. In theory, it's suppose to be electrified twenty-four hours a day as a deterrent to the predators that live in the woods that used to threaten the streets so no one goes out here for their livelihood—packs of wild dogs, lone cougars, bears, even dragons that lost their ability to fly, that they don't really come and make an appearance so Jack would think they've gone extinct if not for the glimpses of them on the television featuring Berk.

But since they get only two or three hours of electricity in the evenings, it's usually safe to touch till then. Even so, Jack always takes a moment to listen carefully for the hum that means the fence is live. Right now, it's silent as a stone. Concealed by a clump of bushes, the Overland boy flatten out on his belly and slide under a two-foot stretch that's been loose for years. There are several weak spots in the fence but this one is so close to his home, Jack almost always enter the woods here.

As soon as Jack's in the trees, he retrieves a long sturdy staff from a hallow log and attached the spearhead to it with a spool of sturdy roots. Electrified or not, the fence has been successful at keeping the flesh-eaters out of District 12. Inside the woods they roam freely and there are added concerns like venomous snakes, rabid animals, and no real paths to follow. But there's also food if people know how to find it. Mr. Overland knew and he taught Jack some before he died in a mine explosion. How an explosion occurred in a mine where there was only a lake was beyond them, but they chalked it up to a malfunction in the machinery that helped them transport the ice easily. It broke the scaffolding and Jack's dad with several other men were dragged under water followed by an explosion from said malfunction of the machine meant to power the transportation of ice, causing the rubble and rocky surface to breakout from the walls following the men falling below, never to resurface because of the weight of said scaffold that also fell in. There was nothing found to even bury and it made the boy wonder just how deep the lake was. Jack was eleven then.

Six years later, he still wakes up screaming for him to run.

Even though trespassing in the woods is illegal and poaching carries the severest of penalties, more people would risk it if they had weapons. But most are not bold enough to venture out with just a knife. Jack's makeshift staff was a rarity, crafted by Mr. Overland along with a few others that he keeps well-hidden in the woods, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. His father could have made good money selling them, but if the officials found out he would have been publicly executed for inciting a rebellion. Most of the Guardians turn a blind eye to the few of those who hunt because they're as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is. In fact, they're one of Jack's best customers. The Overland boy was a full-pledged hunter, so he never really had to go to the mines, partly because he can get food on the table without an extra risk and partly because he was still in a trauma from what happened to his father. But the idea that someone might be arming the Seam would never have been allowed, and the Guardians wouldn't simply ignore it.

In the winter, when it wasn't the hailing, devastating part of it, a few brave souls sneak into the woods to harvest winter apples. But always in sight of the Meadow. Always close enough to run back to the safety of District 12 if trouble arises. Except Jack always tries to go a bit further, unafraid like most people from his district.

"District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety." Jack murmured. Then he glances quickly over his shoulder. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, he worries someone might overhear him.

When the boy was younger, he scared his mother to death, the things he would blurt out about District 12, about the people who rule their country. Burgess, and its far-off Capital city called Berk. Eventually, Jack understood this would only lead them to more trouble. So he learned to hold his tongue and to turn his features into an indifferent mask so that no one would even look at him, let alone hear his thoughts. He played invisible. Did his work quietly in school. Make only polite small talk in the public market. Discuss more than trades in the Hob, which is the black market where he makes most of his money. Even at home, where he lets loose and becomes playfully mischievous for his beloved sister, he avoids discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Nightmare Games. Emma might begin to repeat her brother's words and then where would they be?

In the woods waits one of the only persons which whom Jack can be his wacky self with.

Jamie Bennette.

Jack feels the muscles in his face relaxing, his pace quickening as he climbs the hills to their place, a rock ledge overlooking a valley. A thicket of berry bushes protects it from unwanted eyes.

Suddenly, Jack stops when he sees a mountain deer. Very rare this time of year. So he tracks it down, pulling a sling from his cape-cloak inner pocket. He picked up a rock and shot it across the nearby tree by the creature to make it move and he can get a clearer shot. It moved and settled into the nearest clearing. He replaced the pole's spearhead to one that makes the pole look like a Shepherd's crook and got his sling, making an alternate slingshot with the Crook. He took the spearhead and was ready to take his aim. He breathed carefully and concentrated.

"Hey Jack Frost!"

Jack panicked. He saw the deer making his escape and releases the spearhead too late, making it hit the tree near it instead. He cursed and whipped his head back to find the brunette who called him grinning down at him from a hill.

"Damn you, Jamie. That was the first deer I've seen the whole year," Jack trudged towards him. "now I got nothing."

Jamie laughs when the two boys finally stood in front of each other. "Yeah? And what are you gonna do when people see you with a whole mountain deer, Jack Frost?" He taunted.

For the record, Jack's real name was Jackson Overland. But when they first met, Jamie thought he was the actual spirit because Jack whispered Jackson when he first told him his name, and —son was never heard, and you could also account it due to the fact of his pale complexion, it being winter at the time and the Overland boy's first hunt, so he got some white dye and turned his hair so that it camouflaged with the snow. It became Jamie's official nickname for him when the dye turned out to be White paint and since they did first meet in winter.

Plus, the dye-paint never came off.

"Please, I was gonna sell it to the Guardians."

"Sure you were."

"Oh, like you don't sell to Guardians?"

Jamie had to give him that.

Jack smiled, Jamie claims that he never sees the brunette-turned-white-haired smile except in the woods, and that was only cause he never stays long when visiting the Overland home since he had his own family to look after. Jamie took a stone and told his best friend to make ready. He threw the stone to the nearest tree. A bunch of raccoon scrambled over, Jack took aim and launched his spear to one that was climbing down the said tree. They laughed and made to retrieve the kill and weapon when they heard something fly overhead.

A Berk Hovercraft.

Jamie pressed against a tree and pulled Jack to do the same. When it finally passed, they gathered the spear and kill, making their way back to their place.

~o~

"Look what I shot." Jamie holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it.

Jack laughed at the joke. But it's real bakery bread, not the flat, dense loaves Jack makes from their grain rations. Jack takes it in his hands, pull out the arrow, and hold the puncture in the crust to his nose, inhaling the fragrance that makes his mouth flood with saliva. Fine bread like this is for special occasions.

"Mm, still warm," Jack said, thinking Jamie must have been at the bakery at the crack of dawn to trade for it. "What did it cost you?"

"Just a squirrel. Think old man Stoick was feeling sentimental this morning." Said Jamie. "Even wished me luck."

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" Jack said, not even bothering to roll his eyes. "Emma left us a cheese." He pulled it out.

Jamie's expression brightens at the treat. "Thank you, Emma. We'll have a real feast." Suddenly, he falls into a Berk accent as he mimics Toothiana, the begrudgingly-admitted sweet and warmhearted woman who arrives once a year to read out the names at the reaping. Everyone likes her, no matter how hard they try not to since she's from Berk. She always acted compassionate and doesn't even try to sugar coat the Nightmare games like any other name-picker from Berk. "I almost forgot! Merry Nightmare Games!" He plucks a few blackberries from the bushes around them. "And may the odds—" He tosses a berry in a high arc toward Jack.

Jack catches it in his mouth and breaks the delicate skin with his sparkly white teeth. The sweet tartness explodes across his tongue. "—be ever in your favor!" He finishes with equal verve. "But you know, Toothiana is never really perky about it since the first time. Actually, that was the one time she sugar coated it."

They have to joke about it however, because the alternative is to be scared out of their wits. Besides the Berk accent is so affected, almost anything sounds funny with it. Jamie pulls out a knife and slices the bread. The two were like brothers, though not in the sense that they look alike because they don't. At least, not since Jack turned his hair white and that he had blue eyes as oppose to Jamie's brown ones with matching brownie-like colored hair. Most families who work at their District resemble one another that way. If Jack had never dyed out his hair and if he worked in the mines like Jamie, who claims that a little extra effort never hurt him even if he did hunt almost as much as Jack, he would fit right in as well despite his exquisite blue eyes.

That's why he wondered if he was related with Mrs. Overland and Emma, who had brown eyes like everyone. Well, he obviously was, they have his birth certificate and all but that's beside the point. He definitely got it from his father's side. Mr. Overland's parents, ergo Jack's supposed grandparents he will never meet, were part of the small merchant class that caters to officials; Guardians, and the occasional Seam customer. Mr. Overland got to know his mother when she was out trading for herbs for her Apothecary shop. He went to live with her at the lower parts of District 12, where they resided in now, because his parents would never consent to his marrying her. This way, living here, was the only way his parents would never follow them. He must have really loved the maiden to leave his nice settled home for the Seam.

Thanks to that, though, his father managed to learn how to hunt to survive and the herbs to help him along the way that Jack now also relies on for survival. Jack tries to remember that when all he can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skins and bones. He tries to forgive her for Mr. Overland's sake. But Jack was not exactly the forgiving type. Jamie spreads the bread slices with the soft goat cheese, carefully placing a basil leaf on each while Jack strip the bushes of their berries. They settled back in a nook in the rocks. From this place, they were invisible but have a clear view of the valley, which is teeming with autumn life, a lake just a few feet down, not frozen over because the weather was fairly warm here as compared to back inside district 12. Greens to gather, roots to dig, fish iridescent in the sunlight. The day is glorious, with a blue sky and soft breeze. The food they feasted on is wonderful, with the cheese seeping into the warm bread and the berries bursting in their mouths. Everything would be perfect for the boys if this was a holiday, if all the day off meant was roaming the mountains with each other's company, hunting for tonight's supper.

But instead, they have to be standing in the square at two o' clock waiting for the names to be called out, hoping it would never be theirs.

"We could do it, you know." Jamie said quietly.

"What?" Jack asked.

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it,"

Jack stared at his best friend, not knowing how to respond. The idea is so preposterous.

"If we didn't have so many kids." Jamie added quickly.

They didn't have kids, not exactly. But they might as well have. Jamie had a little sister named Sophie, plus two twin brothers Claude and Caleb. Jack had Emma. And they may as well throw in their mothers, too, because how would they live without the eldest male in the family? Who would fill those mouths that are always asking for more? With the two boys hunting daily, there are still nights when game has to be swapped for lard or shoelaces or wool, still nights when they go to bed with stomachs growling.

"I never want to have kids," Jack scoffed. He loved kids, that's why he didn't want to have his own and they go through what he does.

"I might." Jamie shrugged. "If I didn't live here."

"But you do," Jack snapped. "so forget it."

Jamie grinned cockily at the albino. "C'mon, you're still not sore I turned you down, are you?"

Jack jabbed him lightly on the shoulder. "Bah, heart-breaker."

"Seriously though Jack, we'd make good fathers and you know it. Of course, we could, after we've made sure our families were covered all through the years."

But Jack's solution to never having kids but still intend on marrying? He preferred boys. However, he doesn't know how that was working out for him. Not a lot of guys in twelve went for guys, as well. Even if they had, there were still few that appealed to Jack similarly. The first and probably only boy he could ever go for, Jamie, went for girls and had no choice but to turn him down. They were still best friends, not much changed, and it was enough for Jack.

Still...

Leave? How could Jamie even suggest that? How could I leave Emma? And Jamie is devoted to his family. We can't leave. So why bother talking about it? And even if we did leave... Even if we did... Where did this stuff about having kids come from?

Even if Jamie started taking an interest with guys, it wasn't like they could make it happen with each other. Never mind that there was barely any romance between them, it took them a long time for them to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade and begin helping each other out. Jack wasn't about to risk that for unrequited infatuation.

He didn't think it was love, after all, he wasn't that heartbroken after. Just disappointed.

Besides, if Jamie wanted to be a father, he won't have any trouble finding a wife. He's good-looking, he's strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt in the woods and feed mouths. Jack can tell by the way the girls whispers about him when he walks by in school that they wanted him. It made the self-made Albino jealous, but not for the reason he used to have when he was also fawning over him. Good hunting partners are hard to find, best friends even harder. Having their time together possibly jeopardize... besides, who else would he hang out with?

"What do you want to do?" Jack asked. They could hunt, fish, or gather...

On the way home, the boys swing by the Hob, the black market that operates in an abandoned warehouse that once held ice gathered.

When the officials came up with a more efficient system that transported the ice directly from the mines to the train, the hob gradually took over the space. Most businesses are closed by this time on reaping day, but the black market is fairly busy. The best friends easily traded six of the fish for good bread, the others for salt. Gothi, a puny and bony woman who sells bowls of hot soup from a large kettle, takes half the greens off their hands in exchange for a couple chunks of paraffin. The boys might do a tad better elsewhere but they make an effort to keep on good terms with Gothi. She does supply Mrs. Overland with the herbs she needs, some Jack forgets to bring back and it's on an urgent day. Not to mention she was the only one who can consistently be counted on to buy wild dog. Dogs were pets, until they go wild. No one in the Seam would turn up their nose at a good leg of wild dog, but the Guardians who come to the Hob can afford to be a little choosier.

Jamie and Jack divides their spoils, leaving two fish, a couple of loaves of good bread, greens, a quart of strawberries, salt, paraffin, and a bit of money for each.

"See you in the square later," Jack said.

Jamie nodded. "Best of luck."

~o~

"Let's fish at the lake. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight." A scrawny, freckled-face and green-eyed teenager suggested to his beefier brother. "Toothless could use some Icelandic cod."

The beefier teen shrugged, bored. "Or we could finally eat your stupid cat."

On that note, a jet-black cat clawed the older brunette's face, who yelped in pain. In all honesty, the cat was the best-looking cat around and would probably sell for a good price. But it was their mother's gift to Hiccup, even said it was special and would always protect the youngest, who was the scrawniest in the family.

"Make him stop, Hiccup!"

"You have to apologize first, because honestly, that's the only way to make him stop, Snotlout."

"Fine, dammit! Sorry!"

Toothless clawed the boy once more before returning to Hiccup's side, who tried not to laugh too hard. They were the sons of the Haddocks, Stoick and Valka, bread bakers. Once before, the father did more than just bake. He hunted at the woods like the few others who did to earn more food on the table. But ever since he aged enough to have the occasional split disk, he was advised to stay home. Valka stayed to help out while the boys took over Stoick's hunting hobby-slash-job... Of course, one more so than the other, if the SCRAWNY and BEEFIER contrasting description was any hint.

"Agh, I don't see why I always have to bring you along with me." Snotlout complained, grabbing his hunting knife and climbing a tree to get a better view. "I mean, I already have to risk my life hunting, now I got you to babysit?"

Hiccup rolled his eyes pointedly. "Hey, if it wasn't for me, you'd still be wondering how people get in to the woods." He snapped. "I mean, who was the one who figured out the best places to crawl through?"

Toothless meowed and jumped on Hiccup's shoulder, as if in answer. As if the cat ever did anything but side with his master. Hiccup was clever, so he always tagged along to keep Snotlout, his stronger, brawnier brother, out of any trouble.

"Ah, ba-blah. Shut up,"

"Just think of it as killing two birds with one stone."

"How can you ever kill two birds with one stone?"

Hiccup rolled his eyes once more. "Ahh never mind, come on," He trudged off. "let's get that Icelandic cod before it's time to head back for tonight."

Tonight... After the Reaping...

Hiccup sighed heavily. No matter how hard he tried, it was impossible not to think of it. Especially with his name being in it for over five times this year since he just turned sixteen. After Reaping everyone is supposed to celebrate. And a lot of people do, out of relief that their children have been spared for another year. But at least two families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to figure how they will survive the painful weeks to come.

The Haddock brothers made out predators were somehow no match for them, and Toothless seemed well able to protect Hiccup from the occasional lynx despite it being thrice his size. The younger viking had no idea how his best friend-pet does it, but he seemed to have strength beyond his own. Forget what Snotlout said about babysitting, if that. Toothless did most of the deed, for both of them. By early afternoon, they had a dozen fish, a bag of greens, a gallon of strawberries, and best of all, a wild boar. Which was mostly Snotlout's doing, Hiccup had to admit. Still, it was the younger Haddock who found the patch of strawberries and had the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals. And the one who actually made the nets.

When they finished and made a few trade offs at the Hob, the brothers went to the back door of the mayor's house to sell half the strawberries, knowing he has a particular fondness for them and can afford their price. The Mayor's daughter, Heather, opens the door. She's in Hiccup's year at school. Snotlout flirted with her till he found out who her father was. Being the Mayor's daughter, people would expect her to be a snob, but she's all right. She just keeps to herself. Pretty much like Hiccup who just draws and read a lot. Since neither of them really had a group of friends, they seem to end up together a lot at school. Eating lunch, sitting next to each other at assemblies, partnering for sport activities—futile since neither were much athletic—They rarely talk, Heather being too shy, and Hiccup being socially awkward.

It suited them fine.

Today her drab school outfit has been replaced by an expensive white dress and her raven-black hair is done up with a purple ribbon. Reaping clothes. "Pretty dress," said Snotlout.

Heather shot him a look, trying to see if it's a genuine compliment or if he s just being ironic. It is a pretty dress but she would never be wearing it ordinarily. She presses her lips together and then smiles.

"Well, if I end up going to Berk, I want to look nice, don't I?"

Now it's Snotlout's turn to be confused.

So was Hiccup. Does she mean it? Or is she messing with him? I'm guessing the second one. The younger brother thought, stroking Toothless's fur.

"You won't be going to Berk." Snotlout snorted. His eyes land on a small, circular pin that adorns her dress. Glistening onyx-colored with a Dragon head symbol. Beautifully crafted. It could keep a family in bread for months. "What can you have? Five entries? I had five when I was just twelve years old. Now I'm seventeen and got, what, more than a dozen?"

"I'm surprise you can count that high." Hiccup groaned. "And lay off, that's not her fault."

"No, it's no one's fault, just the way it is." Snotlout spat.

Heather's face has become closed off. She puts the money for the berries in Hiccup's hands. "Been taking care of Toothless, Hiccup?" She smiled sweetly.

The younger Haddock nodded, letting the girl pet the cat. "Thanks for trading it off to our mom without much charge," He said. "He's been great."

"It's fine. He seemed rather eager anyway to be given away when he saw you," Heather told him. "Guess you're a special guy, Hiccup." She closed the door.

"Huh?" Hiccup blinked. "well that wasn't weird."

"Let's go."

~o~

The brothers walked toward the Seam in silence. Hiccup didn't like that Snotlout took a dig at Heather, but he's right. The reaping system is unfair; with the poor getting the worst of it. One becomes eligible for the reaping the day they turn twelve. That year, a name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on and so on until one reaches the age of eighteen, the final year of eligibility, when the name goes into the pool seven times. That's true for every citizen in all twelve districts in the entire country of Burgess.

But here's the catch. Say for those who are poor and starving, as almost everyone and their mothers are in District twelve if not counting the Guardians and the Mayor and his family. One can opt to add his/her name more times in exchange for tesserae. Each tessera is worth a meager year's supply of grain and oil for a person. One may do this for each of his family members as well. So, at the age of twelve, Snotlout had his name entered five times, for his mandatory reaping entry and four more for his tesserae out of himself, Hiccup, Stoick and Valka.

Just because they had bakers for parents didn't follow they had enough food, since they had to feed animals they count on for some of their dairy ingredients, and their chickens for eggs. Because of that, Snotlout had to do this every year. And the entries are now, at the age of seventeen, Snotlout's name would have entered about forty-six times, more or less. Being sixteen, Hiccup's name would have been entered around twenty times if Valka allowed her youngest take up the tessarae. But no one in the Haddock family wanted to take the risk and increase Hiccup's chances of being chosen at all, not even Snotlout. He knew he was simply adopted into the family when his father and Stoick's brother, therefore Hiccup's uncle, Spitelout, died in the mine explosion scaffold incident. He took the tesserae because he owed his aunt and uncle, he didn't have to live off the streets. As boorish as he was, Snotlout was not without heart. He wasn't into the real son possibly being taken away.

So Snotlout sees someone like Heather, who has never been at risk of needing a tessera, as one who can set him off. The chance of her name being drawn is very slim compared to those of the Seam. Not impossible, but slim. And even the rules were set up by Berk, not the districts. Certainly not Heather's family. It's hard not to resent those who don't have to sign up for tesserae.

Snotlout's anger on Heather is misdirected, however. On other days, deep in the woods, Hiccup listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in the districts. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure no one trusts another.

"I swear I'm so angry right now... I'll avenge every single one of our fallen Light, I'll chop down every building at Berk. With my face."

Snotlout might say this every waking moment, even now, if there were no ears to hear, if it wasn't reaping day. If a girl with an onyx pin and no tesserae had not made what Hiccup's sure Heather thought was a harmless comment.

As they walk, Hiccup glances over Snotlout's face, still smoldering underneath his stony expression. His rages seem pointless, although Hiccup never says so. It wasn't that he didn't agree with his cousin-now-brother. He did.

But what good is yelling about Berk? It doesn't change anything.

It doesn't make things fair. It didn't fill their stomachs. In fact, it even scares off game when they were out in the woods. But the younger male lets him, better there than in the District.

~o~

At home, Jack finds his mother and sister are ready to go. Mrs. Overland wears a fine dress back in her days. Emma is in her first reaping outfit, a skirt and ruffled blouse. It's a bit big on her but their mom has made it stay with pins. Even so, the little girl was having trouble keeping the blouse tucked in at the back.

A tub of warm water waits for Jack, although he actually prefers the cold. He scrub off the dirt and sweat from the woods and even washed his hair. His mother kept telling him to scrub harder because the paint might finally give way but the boy grew to love it.

To Jack's surprise, Mrs. Overland has laid out his father's dress clothes for him, because he'll finally fit into them this year. An ice blue thing with matching shoes. He finally decided to wear them since it was his father's.

Still...

"Are you sure?" He asked his mother.

He's trying to get past rejecting offers of help from her. For awhile he was so angry. He wouldn't allow her to do anything for him. And this is something special. Her beloved husband's rich clothes are very precious to her, even his clothes in general.

"Of course. Let me spike up your hair too, like he used to." She said.

He lets her towel-dry it and from some leftover hair gel she styled it. Jack can hardly recognize himself in the cracked mirror that leans against of the wall, he couldn't make out his usually messy fall-down hair raised up stiffly and in place to a more decent manner.

"You look handsome." Emma said in a hushed voice.

"And nothing like myself." He said.

Jack hugged her, because he knows these next few hours will be terrible for her. Her first reaping. She's about as safe as a person can get, since she's only entered once. Jack wouldn't let her take out any tesserae. But Emma's worried about her brother. That the unthinkable might happen. He protects Emma in every way he can, but he was powerless against the reaping. The anguish he always feels when she's in pain wells up in his chest and threatens to register on his face.

Jack notices her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and forced himself to stay calm. "Tuck your tail in, little duck." He said smoothing the blouse back in place.

Emma giggled and gives him a small "Quack."

"Quack yourself." Jack said with a little smirk and laughs, the kinds only Emma can draw out of him. "Come on, let's eat." He said and plant a quick kiss on top of her head.

The fish and greens are already cooking in a stew but that will be for supper. They decide to save the strawberries and bakery bread for this evening's meal, to make it special. Instead they drink milk from Emma's goat, Lady, and eat the rough bread made from the tessera grain, although no one has much appetite anyway.

At one o'clock, they head for the square. Attendance is mandatory unless one is at death's door. This evening, officials will come around and check to see if this is the case. If not, imprisonment follows.

It's too bad, really, that they hold the reaping in the square—one of the few places in district 12 that can be pleasant. The square's surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there's good weather, it has a holiday feel to it. But today, despite the bright banners hanging on the buildings, there's an air of grimness. The camera crews, perched like the buzzards on rooftops, only add to the effect.

People file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity for Berk to keep tabs on the population as well. Twelve-year-olds through eighteen-year-olds are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the young ones, like Emma, toward the back. Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love at stake, or who no longer care, who slipped among the crowd, taking bets on the two kids whose name will be drawn. Odds are given on the ages, whether they're Seam or Merchant, if they will break down and weep. Most refuse dealing with the racketeers but carefully. These same people tend to be informers and who hasn't broken the law? Jack could be shot on a daily basis for hunting but the appetite of those in charge protect him.

Not everyone can claim the same.

Anyway, Jamie and Jack agree that if they have to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head, the bullet would be much quicker.

The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive. The square's quite large, but not enough to hold District 12's population of eight thousand. Latecomers are directed to the adjacent streets, where they can watch the event on screens as if televised live by the state.

Jack finds himself standing in a clump of seventeens from the Seam. They all exchange terse nods then focus their attention on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice building. It holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. He stared at the paper slips in the boys' balls. Several dozens of them has Jackson Overland written on them in careful handwriting.

Two of the three chairs fill with the Mayor, and Toothiana, District 12's escort and name-picker, fresh from Berk with sweet sympathetic smile, raven hair adorned with multi-color feathers, and wore a blue and green dress. They murmur to each other and then look with concern to the empty seat.

Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same story every year. He tells the story of Burgess, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called Panem. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Burgess, a shining capital called Berk reigned by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against Berk. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth district obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave the new laws to guarantee peace, and as the yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave the Nightmare games.

The rules of the Nightmare Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called Lights, to participate. The twenty-four Lights will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland. Over a period of weeks, the competitors must fight to the death. The last Light of the Nightmare experience wins.

Taking the kids from the districts, forcing them to kill one another while the districts watch—this is Berk's way of reminding how the Districts were at their mercy. How little chance they would stand of surviving another rebellion. Whatever words they use, the real message is clear:

Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do.
If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you—

Just as we did in District Thirteen.

To make it humiliating as well as torturous, Berk requires the Nightmare Games to be treated as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others. The last Light alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year, Berk will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest battle starvation.

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," intoned the mayor.

Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors. In seventy-four years, they have had exactly two. Only one is still alive. E. Aster Bunnymund, a double pony-tailed, middle-aged man, who shows up late once again, stone face and serious. Indifferent as always, uncaring except for when he paints eggs for no reason at all. Like he does now. The mayor looks distressed and quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Toothiana.

The petite colorful woman trots to the podium and gives the signature, "Merry Nightmare Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor." She said, and everyone knew she meant it.

Through the farthest side of the line, alphabetically arranged, Jack spots Jamie looking back at him with a ghost of a smile. And the white haired teen suddenly thinks of both their names, several dozens of slips in that big glass ball and how the odds weren't in their favor. And maybe Jamie is thinking the same thing, because his face darkens and he turns away.

"But there are still thousands of slips," Jack wished he could whisper to him.

It's time for the drawing. Tooth crosses to the glass ball with the girls' names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. Soon after, she goes over to where the boys' names were and plucked one out.

"Ladies first,"

She opens the girl's slip first. The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop.

"Emma Overland."

A/N: I'll be honest, I typed this for two days. And for those who will review, please leave out a note that would tell me if you read the book or not. It'd be great if you noticed the little differences I put in even if I did copy it off. Thank you.

I feel kinda bad I made term GUARDIANS the counterpart for PEACEKEEPERS. But it goes well... I guess. I know I pretty much copied off the book, but hey, this is for my entertainment. I could continue it and could not. If I get too much haters, then I won't. But it was fun writing this chapter. I'll still make some twists. Like, I'll spoil this one, the MOCKINGJAY symbol is a NIGHTFURY, so both Jack and Hiccup will be equal symbols. Since I doubt Hiccup could be that clever-spoken diplomat that Peeta is. Still gonna see how that's gonna work out. In regards to my 'A Viking and The Frost' I didn't post yet because I plan on posting all final chapters together. So none of my Disney au's are abandoned, if you remembered what I said before I started this experimental ficc.

NO HATERS. YES POSITIVE CRITICISMS. This is fanfiction and we're free to write whatever. Don't like don't read. As simple as that sweeties.