A/N: Hi all! This is an AU, where Katniss died after getting shot by the man in District 2, and the rebellion fell soon after. This story will navigate through my OC's, Belle, experience in the Hunger Games. This is my first non one-shot, so I'm hoping you will bare with me as I attempt to navigate the challenge of writing. Some of the chapter titles will be taken from songs. So, please, enjoy your read and let me know what you think. Also, I have created a tumblr account where I will post quotes, pictures, etc. The url is lorinda-writes-fanfiction dot tumblr dot com. You have to remove the spaces and place a period where it says dot.
Disclaimer: I don't own Skyfall by Adele or Skyfall by whoever owns the James Bond movie franchise. I also don't own The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I do, however, own whatever you don't recognize, such as OC's. I have rated this T (because it sure isn't K) due to language but in later chapters, the warning may go up to M. I'll warn you before such an occurence. Also, this is unbeta'd. If you would be interesting in betaing for me, please shoot me a message THROUGH THE TUMBLR. Thank you, and enjoy reading!
I wake up to chirping birds, sunlight filtering through the white, slightly moth eaten curtains, and my nephew Chime laughing. The first thought in my head is that today is much too nice a day for what will transpire. The Reaping- where two children from every district in Panem will be sent to their deaths. My second thought is that I hate them all; The Capitol, District 13, even the Mockingjay. She just had to go and get herself shot in District two, didn't she? And Peeta Mellark may as well have been shot as well, because everytime he appears on TV the look on his face just screams broken broken broken.
Districts 1, 3 and 8 were the first to rebel. 12 and 11 soon hopped on board, at least until 12 was burnt to a crisp. And once Katniss Everdeen died, the rebellion was killed in under a month; just in time to put our city square back together for the 76th reaping. In the end, it was just as President Snow said; underneath all the fire and flames, Katniss Everdeen was just a girl who couldn't even save herself.
Things slowly started to return to a state of semi-normal. Wages were cut, hours extended, quotas raised. And the champions of change were hung- my mother, my uncle, my oldest sister when she tried to revive it a year later, when Chime was a year old. Conveniently afterward, most of the children of the rebels were reaped.
Despite District 1's status as a career district, the only tribute we've had return was a 15 year old boy from the 76th games. District 2 has won two out of the three past games since Sage, with a kid from 10 taking us all by surprise last year. It's been discussed in recess yards and factory break rooms that the Gamemakers are taking special care to torture those from District 1- pockets of acid geysers, 77th. Razor rain, 78th, body invading fungi, 79th. The lord only knows what sick surprises they have in store for us this year.
I know it's messed up to hope we have a fighter this year, but I do. The Capitol has tried to make us quit training our tributes, but so many of our parents, teachers and victors have spears, swords, maces, bow and arrows in their basements that they soon gave up. I'm sure this doesn't help our tributes in the eyes of the Gamemakers, still defying the Capitol, but everyone in this district was used to living in luxury and people aren't adjusting to near starvation very well.
It is Chime's second peal of laughter that gets me out of bed. His mom, Bloom, used to laugh in that same all out way before the Capitol cut off her air supply. I plod down the stairs to see my twin, Bea, signing to Chime and making silly faces at Dad's back. It makes me smile, glad she's coming back to her old self. I sit down, ignoring the creak of the old wooden chair and sign good morning to Bea. She lost her voice and hearing in her right ear when the Capitol bombed the factory she worked in. Bea was only a hundred feet away when a palm-sized piece of shrapnel hit her throat; the doctors say if she had been any closer it would have almost cut her head clean off. Even the idea causes my heart to clench.
"Morning, dear." Dad leaves the stove and puts our breakfast down, sliding into the chair opposite of me on our round table. I just stare at the oatmeal, only giving a small thought that sugar would make this so much better. But we can't afford sugar now. We can only afford the basics, and barely even that. I know that in actuality I should eat- unwise to let food waste- but I can just glare in contempt at the offending oats.
After finally eating a few bites, I take Chime to get cleaned up, having showered last night and knowing Bea showered early this morning. The house I grew up in used to have four bathrooms, and gave me my own room. But after the failure that was the second rebellion, we simply couldn't afford the house payments and ended up moving into Mom & Dad's assigned home. It used to be only the poorest of the poor that lived in the generic, white clapboard houses that filled the Brooks, which is something of a joke since the little streams that criss-cross the neighborhood are filled with factory waste. Now I call this toxic place neighborhood, just as I call the three bedroom, one bath house home. Most of our neighbors are newly married couples, as this is where most newlyweds live until they can afford a down payment. However, over the past four years, the sound of children playing and old people calling for quiet have slowly invaded the neighborhood.
I knock on the bathroom door to let Chime know that I'm coming in with his reaping outfit. I open the door to the sight of him almost drowning, attempting to rinse his blonde hair with one arm and a cup. This happened last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. Chime is as independent as Bloom was. "Need some help before you drown yourself, little minnow?" He glares at the yellowed tile that surrounds the bath and growls out a "yes". Poor baby. He'll be happy as a dragonfly once he gets that cast off his arm.
That should teach him to get into fights with other, bigger boys.
Once he's as washed as he's like to get in this bath tub (note to self: vinegar scrub bathroom at next possible opportunity) I help him into his khaki pants and sky blue shirts, a color I love on him because it brings out his same colored eyes. As I button the last button he mumbles a sentence that breaks my heart into pieces tinier than I thought possible. "Are you going to have to leave me like my mommy did?"
I am so astounded I have to sit back on my heels and stare incredulously at his face that betrays pain he shouldn't know. How sick is it that we live in a world where even a child knows that this day means death and destruction? How sick is it that he is so afraid of losing the only mother figure he knows to the people that took the one he didn't?
The shock wears off and I have to bite my tongue and think angry thoughts so I don't cry. If I start crying now, I'll never stop. But what could I possibly say that would make this okay? That since this is mine and Bea's last year in the reaping, it's the Capitol's last chance to punish us and they won't let one of us go unscathed because his grandmother, my mother, was one of the heads of the rebellion in their beloved district? And it sure as hell won't be Bea in that arena, she's too fragile. I have dreamt variations of this nightmare since Sage Hazelwell won.
In the end I can only take his hand, heartbreakingly small, in mine and give a small amount of reassurance. "Chime, no matter what happens tonight, I know that you know I love you. Even if I don't come back I will always be right in here. I love you like you're my son." I poke the area over his heart for extra effect and he giggles, pain from his eyes gone. I'm glad this tragic moment is over because there is a hot ball of something like pain and fear lodged in my throat, and I release him to Bea without a thought, knowing they'll be playing with that damn block set he loves so much and that she loves to indulge him in.
Sitting on the twin bed in the room Bea and I share lays a little yellow sundress, with navy blue flowers and matching sandals. Bea was wearing a matching one, but on hers the flowers are green as are the sandals. I put it on, grateful for the drawstring that bunches up around the middle because I've lost a lot of weight since I wore this for last year's reaping. It's almost indecently baggy in the chest area (where I've also lost a lot of weight) and I consider stuffing one of my old bras with socks. I contemplate fighting the blonde curls that both grace and terrorize my head, but then Dad yells that it's time to go so my decision is made. I give a shrug in the mirror and run to the stairs, but have to run back to my room to grab my dragonfly necklace.
It's mostly wood, but inset in each of the four wing areas are four gems- diamond, sapphire, topaz, opal. Dad had necklaces made for all of us right before the rebellion; a swan for mom, a butterfly for Bloom, a dragonfly for me and a bee for, well, Bea. Each gem represented one of his girls, he told us. Diamond for mom, sapphire for Bloom, topaz for me and opal for Bea. And when Chime was born, my dad had another gem added in each, mine in the tale- a lovely little green piece of peridot. And after Bea and I pestering him, he finally added on a ruby to represent himself. Once my necklace is secured, I rush to join my family in the foyer. I can see Dad starting to worry about us being late.
On our way to the Reaping, we talk of matters but everything at hand. We talk about how Dad has once again been passed over for a promotion, how Bea's design was chosen for a new salad plate pattern at the Chinaware factory, how Chime's class is learning about the Dark Days. And then we're at the city square, where the Capitol carries out its yearly injustice and hung those that dared try to escape them. Where I witnessed my mom, uncle and sister hung at the ripe age of 13.
Bea and I hold hands as we stand in line. As I get my identity confirmed via finger pricking, I imagine shoving the spear that is in my basement in the Peacekeeper's gut. He has that District 2 look about him, and his sneer is the most annoying thing I've dealt with all day. It takes all my control not to run for my crossbow when the same Peacekeeper grab's Bea's wrist a little too hard. "I asked you what your name was, sweetheart." He snarls. I push her behind me and put all my loathing on my face. "Her name is Bea Dicen. She can't talk for herself, she's mute." He just leers at me, and I don't miss the way his eyes run over our bodies, like he's hoping we're one of those night girls that pop up more and more often because they have no other way to feed their family.
Bea and I are finally dismissed after he pokes her (too hard, I feel) with the needle and is checked in. Once we're finally away, I mutter to Bea, "Oh, what I wouldn't give to turn him into one of those training dummies so I could shove my sword right up his…"
"Hey guys!" Star pushes and shoves through a group of 14 year olds to get to us. We've all been best friends since first grade, when I chased away and threatened a bunch of boys who pushed her down with a dull, training sword and Bea got her a bandaid. Good times. Bea graces Star with a smile and I speak for both of us, "Hey. Where's Satin? And Ara, for that matter." Ara is our other best friend, who we adopted around 4th grade. Satin is Star's boyfriend of two years. They're cute and absolutely disgusting sometimes. "Satin's with his little brother. It's Glam's first reaping. As for Ara…"
"Here I am!" Ara shouts, sounding out of breath, as she screeches to a halt before bowling us all over. "Here I am." She repeats, hand on her nylon clad knees. Looks like her mom finally managed to wrangle her into a dress for her finally reaping. "Did any of you have trouble with the red headed monkey in the Peacekeeping suit? He actually had the gall to suggest that I meet him outside his barracks tonight, so I told him…"
"Hopefully anything that won't get you in trouble." Star and I give her a pointed glare; Ara has a way of getting into mischief almost ninety-nine percent of the time. But she usually doesn't get in too much trouble, because her Dad is the factory foreman of the Diamond factory. "As for your question, yes, I did. And so did Bea. It took all my power to not run home and get my knives…" I trail off threateningly. Bea rolls her eyes, Star just raises an eyebrow and Ara gives me a speculative look and starts to say something, only to be cut off by the trumpets announcing the arrival of our escort.
Asterisk Lemons has been the escort of District One since the second rebellion. Rumor has it the Capitol felt our last one, Oddette Hones, had the potential to be a 'rebellious influence on the Capitol elite' and had her subsequently executed. I'm just glad I don't have to deal with her skin-tight outfits anymore, though I empathize with her family.
This year, Asterisk is wearing a white suit that looks as though it's been splashed with gold paint. His hair is a light purple, much lighter than last year's, and it looks like he had more silver inlaid tattoos on his face. As far as looks go, he's pretty tame for a Capitolite.
"Hello, District One! We're here to send off our champions to this year's 80th Hunger Games! And now, Mayor Engins has something lovely to read to you." Yeah, lovely my ass. Mayor Engins was another after-rebellion replacement. Our old one, Mayor Oxson, supposedly died of old age, but no one really believes it. Where Oxson was old, in his 80's, Engins is young and powerful. Personally, the man is one of the reasons that I haven't attempted another revolt in the past years. But I have Chime to think off, and if we're being honest, Bea's not exactly in that mothering mental state needed to take care of a six year old boy.
Star, Ara, Bea and I whisper quietly about the rumor Marble Phosphane was planning on volunteering this year while Mayor Engins reads The Treaty of Treason in a slightly too gleeful tone. The Phosphanes are big Captiol and Hunger Games supporters. His Dad and Mom are both victors, and this is his last year.
We finally quit talking, unwilling to face the wrath of the Peacekeepers, when Asterisk gets back to the microphone. "First off, there has been a change of plans. Instead of Brawn Noners mentoring this year, due to unforeseeable health issues, Sage Hazelwell will be taking his place. Margery Gold will still be mentoring, however. And now, on to the reapings! Let's get boys first, shall we?" Asterisk reaches into the boy's bowl, but I am lost in memoryland.
"Hey! I hadn't seen you at the meetings before!" I turn around to see the most beautiful fourteen year old boys ever. His chocolate hair curled temptingly and all I wanted was to wrap one around my fingers. As he approached me, I saw that his eyes were a lovely almost olive green. He was beautiful- I think my heart was melting. Bloom said this was how she felt whenever she was with Chime's father. When he got close enough, I reached out my hand, desperate to know his touch. "Hi. I'm Belle Dicen, Breeze's daughter." He smiled a pearly smile and shook my hand. "Sage Hazelwell, Thyme's son, fourteen today, fifteen tomorrow." I giggled, and internally berated myself, saying that if I ever wanted a chance with this older boy than I needed to act the older girl. "So what brings you to these meetings?" He asked, stepping closer as though he was afraid I might whisper the answer. I spoke out in what I hoped was a confident tone, "It's the first one I've been able to make. The meetings since we've become… active… have all conveniently been scheduled when I'm in school, or during my shift at the makeup factory." He grinned again and my heart flopped. "I understand completely," and then someone, presumably his Mom, called his name, "hey, I gotta go, but I hope to see you around again." He gave me one last smile, this one with dimples, and walked out the front door of the house we were using to meet in. Oh, I can't wait to go tell Bea! I thought to myself…
"And our male tribute is Lexon Calhoon!" Asterisk roared out. I felt my breath catch and my hand grasped Bea's, squeezing for what comes next. A thirteen year old boy made his way to the stage and shook Asterisk's hand. I'll say this for the kid, his face was blank, almost bored, and the only thing that could give away how nervous he is the way he's tapping his fingers against the side of his khaki pants. I think I recognize him as a kid that's lived in the Brooks his whole life.
Asterisk walks over to the bowl that contains my name, and Bea's, twenty-six times each. If we had started taking tesserae any earlier than we did at 14, we would be entered 36 times. Asterik reaches in and pulls out a name. And even though I thought had prepared myself, and hoped against hope that the Capitol would decide we had been punished enough, he still calls out the name, "Bea Dicen!"
I fall to my knees, unable to breathe, and unable to let go of Bea's hand as she tugs to get to the isle, which will lead her to the stage, which will lead her to the Hunger Games. Finally, I let go, choking out a strangled, "I love you" and watch as she walks to the stage in her matching dress. How am I going to handle being away from my twin? We've never been apart, not even for sleepovers.
I look at one of the many screens that are temporarily hanging on store shops and watch her walk in a dignified manner to the stage, not seeming to notice the tears on her face. I feel my heart harden as she walks up and shakes Asterisk's hand. I get up, scrape my knees off, and wipe away the last few tears. Now I'm more angry than pissed. "Do I look like I've been crying?" I ask Ara harshly, my tone still sort of choked sounding. She shakes her head, looking alarmed, as I pull myself together. "No, tell me you're not." Ara growl-whispers, her hand wrapping around my arm and leaving no doubt that it will bruise. I just look at her with a vapid expression, "Oh, yes, I am. I have to. And you know it." I take a deep breath as Asterisk calls out for any male volunteers, and start walking towards the isle. Then he asks for female volunteers and I'm sprinting to the isle, getting there and yelling, "I volunteer as tribute!" I repeat it again firmly, a second time. I don't want them to not notice me.
Asterisk beams at me and gestures to the stage, "Fabulous! There's the ol' District One spirit! Oh, how marvelous, how exciting! Now, darling, what's your name?"
I reply in a calm manner that completely masks what I feel, "Belle Dicen."
"How old are you, dearie, and did you say Dicen? Are you related?"
"I'm 18, Asterisk, thanks for asking. And yes, Bea is my twin. Sorry, sis," I turn to her, give her a hard look and then wink at her, "looks like it's too late for your chance." I elbow her as if this is all a giant joke. Asterisk laughs, and Bea rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. As she is dismissed off the stage, I see her raise an eyebrow at me, which is really quite miraculous considering the amount of tears running down her face. I lose track of her once she rejoins the crowd and then Asterisk grabs my hand and Lexon's and raises it in the air, roaring, "District One, your tributes!" And then we are whisked away to the thunderous amount of applause at our backs, one that hasn't been heard since Sage returned home victorious.