Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination
Hunger Games AU
τέρατα μέσα
By
Inanimalia Dea
Prologue: Honoring the Third Quarter Quell
The anthem plays.
I clench my hands in fists when the President takes the stage, a young boy dressed in a white suit following behind holding a wooden box, a box that contains a cruel fate for unfortunate kids in every district.
The anthem ends and the President begins to speak.
"Good night to all of Panem." He says in that voice of his that manages to make the hair in the back of my neck stand up.
He starts by talking about the story of Panem (which every citizen in Panem must have memorized by now), talking about how a place once called North America was swept out by droughts, storms, fires, and countless of natural disasters. Panem rose from the ashes of this destroyed land, and it was divided in thirteen districts and one leading Capital. Then came the Dark Days when the districts decided to rebel against the Capital. The war ended shortly after twelve districts were defeated and District Uzushiugakure was destroyed. As punishment the Treaty of Peace, dictated by the Capital, gave us the Hunger Games; an annual reminder of the power of the Capital over the districts. When the laws for the Hunger Games were laid out, they dictated that every twenty-five years the anniversary would be marked by a Quarter Quell. It would call for a glorified version of the Games to make fresh the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion.
The seventy-fifth Hunger Games are taking place this year.
"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes. On the fiftieth anniversary," the president continues, "as a reminder to the rebels that families were torn apart by the rebels initiating violence, the male and female tributes reaped must be a relative of a past victor of the Hunger Games."
I tremble in fear at the thought of forty-eight kids fighting for their lives. But the tears in my eyes finally stream down my face as I imagine twenty-four kids being reaped just because they are related to the victors –who must have felt very guilty by condemning an innocent member of their family to the horrors they themselves went through.
I reach for my mother's hand as the President speaks again.
"And now we honor our third Quarter Quell," he says as the boy steps forward, holding out the box with the lid opened. There are dozens of yellowed envelopes with different killing sentences written inside, but the President picks one with the number 75 marked in black in the yellow envelope. He pulls out a small, white square of paper and reads, his cold eyes never betraying any emotions, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary as a reminder to the rebels that children were suffering and dying because of their choice to rebel against the Capital, each district is to hold an election and vote on an extra tribute –male or female– to represent it."
This leaves me breathless, because if I thought the past two Quarter Quells were cruel, this one is even more cruel and awful. I can't even being to imagine the feeling of pain and betrayal of being picked by the people you grew up with and knew all your life to be sent to your sure death.
"Is it possible to succeed without any act of betrayal?"