Mornings in the DiLaurentis household were always quiet. The soft patter of Alison's footsteps against the hardwood floor barely touched the silence. Everything here was immaculate, from the polished shelves to the fancy glass vase adorning the dining room table. Nice and perfect and quiet, just how it should be. Perfect and quiet and fake.

Jessica DiLaurentis always said appearances were everything. Here they had a perfect mansion that half of district two would die for, and not just figuratively. All the kids at school were beyond impressed that Alison had a victor brother and all the money and attention she could ever want.

And Alison did love the attention, both from locals and from the Capitol. Jason's victory five years ago had been somewhat of a fluke. After the Games, the reporters found the most marketable thing about him was his twelve-year-old sister. Alison soaked up the attention from the first time she was on camera. It felt good to be adored; to have everyone know her name. Appearances were everything, and, as far as Alison was concerned, hers made her flawless.

But on mornings like this, she was unnerved by the quiet of the house. They were supposed to have everything. They should be as happy as the world thought they were.

Her father was nowhere to be found, as usual. Her mother was most likely still knocked out from the sleeping pills she took each night. Alison didn't mind, because it was Reaping Day and two DiLaurentis women on edge could escalate to a heated, even physical argument within minutes. Jason was no doubt in his usual zombie-mode. All the money in the world and he chose to spend it importing in morphling tablets from district six. Freaking morphling tablets were his life now.

Alison had no trouble telling everyone just how pathetic her brother was, that he was not victor material at all, but sometimes she'd look at him and feel her heart clench. The brother she used to know was long gone, replaced by this lifeless entity. Sometimes she had nightmares of being forced down the same path.

Of course, it had all started with a reaping.

"You're up early," came a sleepy voice from behind. It was so sharp against the silence that it made Ali jump. Her muscles relaxed when she realized it was only her mother.

Alison flipped her hair and frowned. "I'm always up early. You're the one who's usually dead to the world until lunchtime."

Jessica DiLaurentis stared back with an unamused expression. "Alison, don't challenge me today. I need to get your brother up and ready for the ceremony." She paused to sigh and blinked for so long Ali thought she might fall asleep on the spot. "I need cooperation for the next few hours. It's only a few hours, then everything is back to normal," she mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Unless I get picked," Alison whispered, voicing thoughts that had plagued her mind for weeks. It wasn't uncommon for siblings of victors to end up in the Hunger Games. Especially when said siblings were already widely known by the Capitol. Alison was seventeen. She was smart enough to calculate the odds.

"Don't talk like that," Jessica fired back.

Her tone made Alison stand up straighter. A flash of annoyance rippled through her. Words were out her mouth before she could even deliberate them. "Don't you dare say it can't happen. Who knows, maybe I'll even volunteer."

The threat was empty, but she knew she had screwed up when her mother's eyes began to bulge.

"I need to get dressed," Ali muttered, turning on her heel to escape the inevitable lecture on how fighting fire with fire is not the same as throwing yourself into flames. Her mother had more or less lost one kid already. Alison being reaped would destroy her.

It might destroy Ali, too.

A red flag fluttered in the wind, warning sailors against sending boats out into the ravenous sea. Choppy waves broke on the sandbar and white caps reached the ankles of three girls standing near the shore.

Emily Fields held up the edges of her white linen dress to keep it from getting soaked. Normally, she wouldn't care, but this was her only dress for special occasions. Her two friends, Aria and Hanna, were dressed similarly in light, airy dresses typical of the ocean district.

The reaping ceremony would start soon. It was a tradition for the three of them to meet on the beach each year in case the worst happened. They never knew what to say during times like these. There was a fine line between acceptable and inappropriate; no one wanted to joke about the Hunger Games, but full out goodbyes only left them anxious.

For a while, the only sound was the roaring of the sea. Emily bent down to pick up a shell and skipped it across the water. It bounced three times before being captured by a wave.

Hanna tried to do the same, but hers plopped and sank the second it hit water.

"It never works for me," she complained, running a hand through her short, blonde hair.

"Hanna, that's because all you're doing is throwing it underhand. You're supposed to throw it sideways and flick your wrist," Emily explained, somewhat amused.

"The last time I tried that, it went the wrong way and almost hit some kid," she retorted.

"Guys, what's that?" Aria asked, and Emily shifted her gaze to the direction the petite brunette was pointing.

A good twenty feet away, there was a gull lying on the shore. Most likely from the storm that came through last night.

"It's a dead bird, Aria. It's not like we haven't seen one before," Hanna answered.

Aria's eyes were wide. "I know…" she started. "But…that's the second bad omen today. I don't know, I just have a feeling something really bad is going to happen."

Emily and Hanna exchanged a glance. Aria was the most superstitious of the three, so it wasn't surprising. Even if they didn't believe in it like she did, neither of them wanted to hear it on a day when nightmares could very well come true.

"What was the other omen?" Emily asked before Hanna could butt in.

"Well, today's a Friday," Aria said matter-of-factly.

"So?" Hanna questioned.

"Ezra said Fridays have been bad luck for this region since before Panem even existed. Anyone who leaves to go on a journey on that day never returns home. That's why district four never has a victor when the reaping is on a Friday."

Hanna rolled her eyes. "Friday is the best day of the week."

Emily furrowed her eyebrows. "Sorry, Aria, but I'm going to have to go with Hanna on this one. Friday is just a day. It doesn't mean anything."

"I hope you're right," Aria said, sounding unconvinced.

"Em, I think your dad's coming," Hanna said.

Emily brushed away a long lock of dark hair that the wind blew into her face and saw that, sure enough, her father was at the edge of the sand dunes, headed towards them. He was already dressed in his peacekeeper uniform, something that was seen as threatening to most of the district, but not to Emily. Never to Emily. Peacekeeper or not, he was her dad, plain and simple.

"Girls, it's time to head out," he said when he was within earshot.

The three girls complied easily, following the older man past the beach and the wharf, finally arriving at the center of town. Before he left, Wayne Fields took his daughter aside and pulled her into a hug.

"Emmy, whatever happens, you know I love you and that your mother and I are always proud of you. I heard she's making your favorite meal tonight. Don't tell her I said anything," he winked and planted a kiss on her head.

Emily smiled in return. "Can't wait. I love you, too," she said before leaving to navigate through the older teenagers.

It was all overwhelming. There were people at every turn, some looking terrified and others unusually excited. Emily didn't like the thought of training and volunteering, but she would be lying if she said that she didn't breathe a sigh of relief when someone did volunteer. Maybe it was selfish, but knowing there was a possibility of someone being willing to take your place loosened the knots in her chest.

Throughout the familiar rebellion speech, she stole glances at the victors. There were quite a few of them lined up. The ones standing on the end would be this year's mentors. There was Meredith, a woman in her twenties with straight blonde hair and a menacing grin. Rumor had it that the stress of her Games had caused something to snap within her. When pushed, she could be dangerous.

Still, Meredith wasn't as scary as Cyrus. He always looked wooden, but Emily clearly remembered what he could do with a knife. She could still hear the screams of pain emitted from the allies he turned on.

Emily was lost in these thoughts when she heard something that made her freeze in her spot.

And just like that, it only took a moment for everything to fall apart. Her legs quaked and her heart felt close to exploding. Adrenaline rushed to her head. She didn't know whether to take off running somewhere, anywhere far away from here, or simply break down sobbing.

Her thoughts weren't coherent enough to allow her the chance to make a decision. Emily Fields. For once, she hated the name. Couldn't even imagine it being connected to her.

"Emily Fields!" The voice called for a third time. Emily blankly scanned the hundreds of eyes glued to her. Then she met Hanna's blue ones. A little further to the left was Aria, looking ghostly white.

None of this was okay in the slightest, but something finally clicked. The voice amplified through the Square was becoming impatient. She had to move.

One unsteady leg in front the other, she made her way to the stage. She felt tiny and vulnerable, like the whole place might swallow her whole before she could reach the top of the steps.

Her breathing refused to return to a normal rate the entire time she stood onstage. She barely noticed when a sixteen-year-old with reddish hair was called to be the male tribute.

The same few sentences repeated in her head like a recording. She was Emily Fields, daughter of a peacekeeper who moved around districts. She was decent in academics and excelled in swimming. When it came to everything else, she was average or below. She was not strong enough for this. No, she was too weak to be a warrior.

It wasn't a surprise, really.

Alison was expecting her name to be called for the past two years now. Those who said the reapings couldn't be rigged were full of crap.

Her expression had only faltered for a second before she pulled herself together and put on a confident smile. Hopefully no one would pick up on the way her eyes were slightly widened, her gait a little stiff. She wouldn't allow them to see her as weak.

So she held it together. Grinned at Noel Kahn when he volunteered beside her. Kept her head high as she was escorted off stage.

Now she was waiting in the Justice Building for her last visitors. It was considerably more difficult to avoid thinking of all that was about to happen when she was left alone with her thoughts. She tapped her foot on the tiled floor and focused on the calming rhythm. Surely people would be coming any second now. Hordes of them.

Her taps started getting quicker and closer together. She felt her throat tighten when a peacekeeper said she had two minutes left.

Where the hell was her family? Her "friends"?

She took in a sharp breath when she heard the door finally open, but the real surprise was the person standing in the entrance.

It was Spencer Hastings, Ali's old neighbor. They were close when they were younger, always at each other's houses and trying to outdo one another. Alison had basically abandoned Spencer once Jason became a victor and the DiLaurentis family became celebrities in the district.

Now here she was.

Spencer's eyes glanced around the room, taking everything in, before her gaze landed on the blonde. Alison tugged at the edge of her sleeve. It wasn't often that she was at a loss for what to say.

"I expected more people to be here," Spencer said finally.

Ali felt herself getting defensive. An excuse was at the tip of her tongue, but she decided against it. "Yeah, me too," she said instead.

"Your brother's mentoring you?" the girl asked, and Ali nodded.

"One minute," the peacekeeper reminded them in a gruff voice.

Ali opened her mouth to speak. "Spencer, I know it's been a while-"

"No," Spencer cut her off. "Look, I don't know if you even want me here or not, but I came anyway to give you something." She dug into her pocket and pulled out a familiar purple bracelet. Alison's name was embroidered in white letters on the side.

It was once her most prized possession, until she was given real gold and silver jewelry, courtesy of the Capitol.

"That's been at your house all this time?" Ali asked as she took it from the tall brunette.

"I kept it just in case you ever decided to come back for it," she replied.

Alison blinked in surprise. The gesture confused her. If she were in Spencer's shoes, she probably would've either thrown away or burned the stupid bracelet.

"Time's up," the peacekeeper announced. He gripped Ali by the arm, tighter than she cared for, and led her out the building. Alison turned back just long enough to tell Spencer "thanks". Soon after, the doors were shut and the youngest Hastings was out of sight.

She clicked the bracelet around her wrist and stared straight ahead as she boarded the train. If no one else could be bothered to say goodbye, would they even care if she didn't make it back alive?

A tear almost threatened to escape, but she blinked it away furiously. There was no way she was going to let this get to her. She was a fighter, and she'd return home whether they liked it or not, if only just to see the looks on their faces.

It wasn't like she needed them, anyway.

A/N: Hey, everyone. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this AU. I'm aware that stories like this have been done before, but it's always possible to do a different take on it. Please review if you liked it! Feel free to pressure me to update, but be nice about it :p Writing is time consuming so it's nice to have motivation. I'm pretty excited about this and I have a lot of ideas!