I felt like there needed to be a story in which Effie is taken to an arena. I hope you like it. Every chapter will be from a different point of view, this one is from Katniss's but make sure you know who's POV the chapter is from before reading it just to make sure nobody gets confused

Unfortunately I don't own the hunger games

And on with the story…

Katniss POV

The steaming mug of tea sits in my hands, gently radiating warmth into my body, banishing the last tendrils of sleep. A large yawn escapes my mouth as I run my hand through my bed messed hair, pulling it straight back away from my face and letting it fall into a middle part naturally. I'd seen Prim perform this action a million times, a sign of concentration, she would pull her hair back while doing her homework, or when my mother would pull her into her world of healing. Now I do it, as a way of keeping her alive in even just a small way. Even for just a little while. As my mind begins to draw itself into the same self-torturing black hole that it falls into every day I am distracted by the soft swish of the luxury train door sliding open to reveal Peeta, closely followed by Haymitch. Peeta grabs my hand, pulling me up

"Come on, get dressed" he commands "We'll be arriving in a minute"

I follow his demands without question, he's correct, the train will be speeding into the capitol any second and I can hardly wander around in a dressing gown with a mug of tea clutched between my fingers. Even though people are free to wander from district to district now the capitol, even though less wealthy than it was, is still the richest place in Panem and people still wear the ridiculous clothes I was accustomed to. Frighteningly in some ways nothing has really changed at all. I slip into my clothes and plait my hair back into my usual style, my practiced fingers making light work of the task, pulling strands of my hair back neatly until it is all encased in the same soft plait that I wore in my games.

My mind is preoccupied as I am leaving the train, thinking back to the moment when I allowed this to happen, I deeply regret it now. Gale had managed to convince me I had wanted this, blinded by grief for Prim I had allowed things to pass me by which would have never been allowed before her death or even now. I had been thirsty for the blood of the people whom had killed my sister, if even indirectly but now I see that by doing this we are just as bad as they are. We can't blame these people for the way they were brought up, we can't blame Snow's 14 year old granddaughter for the decisions of her predecessors, we can't blame any of the people who were involved in the games after being so brainwashed by the Snow they thought this was acceptable. I don't want this. I don't want any more blood. Unfortunately it's beyond my control now. The arena's been set up, Gale is ready for the reaping, and all the people would be standing in the glorified animal pens waiting for Gale to pick twelve names from each reaping ball. This should definitely not be happening but I allowed it and now there's nothing that I can do.

We sit silent as a dead sea on the plush couches in the training centre; the only place any of us from district 12 have claim to in this city. The 12th floor pent house that Effie had showed us around, so excited at the obvious awe we were displaying. It's strange to think that was only a few short years ago. Now she stands and we see her on the large television screen. Wearing her wig and all her makeup, her body encased in a somewhat pretty butterfly inspired dress. I realise with a jolt it's the same dress that she wore for the reaping of the Quarter Quell. This is a direct defiance of something; I'm not quite sure what now there is no Capitol or oppressive, totalitarian tyrant to blame anything on but she is being defiant anyway and I can't help but smile. We taught her that. I can tell this is bothering Haymitch, he may have hated her guts most of the time as far as we could see but after so many years he does care for her, he doesn't wish any ill will or injury upon her. If I'm being totally honest I think it's hard on all of us, we all love Effie in our own special little way; I should have been able to save her from this, one of us should.

Gale reaches down into the first reaping ball for the male tributes, pulling twelve names and reading them allowed, waiting for each tribute to make their way to the stage, past rebels making sure nobody could run. This is wrong.

"Tigris Blantorial" No. he hadn't been involved for years. This isn't fair

"Claudius Templesmith" No. He's not to blame. This isn't fair.

"Tax Cuddbory" No. he's just a trainer. He's a good archer, just like me. This isn't fair.

I tune out after him, name after name is called out including Snow's granddaughter, named Annabella and just a pale faced waif next to the rest of the tributes. She's just a child, just like we were. We can't let this happen. I am drawn back to reality by Gale reading out the name of the last female tribute

"Euphemia Trinket" no. no. no. this isn't fair. She should be immune. I said she should be immune. No. no. no. not Effie. Not dear, naïve Effie. No.

Everyone goes silent. Haymitch immediately gets up and leaves but me an Peeta are frozen on the spot, watching her take a long shaky breathe and making her way onto the stage, eyes wide, chin up, smile on I note with some kind of perverse happiness. She's not forgetting her manners and appearance, Effie is nothing if not true to herself. The last we see of her is when she is lead away from the stage and towards the cars that will bring them here. All we can do now is wait.

I allowed her to get reaped. Guilt overwhelms me. Effie is going into the arena.

Read and review! I hope you liked it, the next instalment should be up soon

MeganElixabethh xx