Summary: Totally AU. What if the revolution had been lost? The Hunger Games would have continued, right? This story is from the POV of Iris Mellark, (the daughter of Peeta and Katniss) and she might just end up in the middle of the most exciting Hunger Games yet.
Just a little background info: Everything is left as it was at the end of Mockingjay, except that the revolution was lost, so Snow is still president. District 12 was re-built, and Haymitch and Katniss' mom didn't move to another district. She works in the new District 12 hospital. Peeta and Katniss got married by own will, but were forced to have children.
Zing! I can hear the arrow whiz through the air. It hits the squirrel in the neck. I run over to go pick it up. "Dang it," I mutter, pulling the arrow from the corpse's neck. Ever since I had begun hunting, over a year ago now, I had been trying to hit my victims in the eye. But let's face it; I'll never be as good a shot as my mother.
I throw the squirrel into my bag and run off toward the Ramington's house. When I get to the little home, a conventional Seam household, I rap on the door. Hunter answers. Hunter's been my best friend since the second grade. I always feel safe with him, and he knows everything about me.
"Hey," he says. I simply hand him the bag full of game. Hunter's family was originally from town, but when his father died from a heart attack, the jewelry business they ran went into ruins. They moved into this Seam house, and they often had a hard time getting food. I made sure that Hunter and all of his little siblings never had to sign up for tesserae by bringing them game twice a week.
Now, I follow Hunter inside to his kitchen. He dumps the contents of the bag onto the counter. "It all looks great, Ri," he says. I give a halfhearted smile. Every year around the time of the reaping, I get really uncomfortable around people. I don't know what does it; maybe I just can't bear to think about what will happen if I'm not around to feed Hunter every week. He sees the disheveled look on my face and pulls me into a hug. I sniffle. No tears are falling, but Hunter's wiping at my cheeks like there are.
"You'll be okay," he tells me, stroking my hair.
"I won't," I reply.
"If they do rig the reaping, you still have a chance. You've got your mother's survival skills. You could win, Iris."
"No, Hunter. They'll make sure I die." I pull away and push the blonde hair out of his eyes. There's nothing romantic between us, but I do love him more than anyone else in the world. Love him like a friend, that is. He smiles sadly and touches my cheek.
"I have to go," I mutter, turning toward the door.
"See you at reaping."
When I finally arrive home, I turn the corner from the foyer into the kitchen and take a step back, startled to see both my parents there. They stare at me. My father with sad blue eyes, and my mother with angry silver ones.
"Were you out in the woods?" Mom asks. I shake the dirt out of my hair, but don't answer. She knows very well that I was in the woods. "That's illegal."
"What does it matter?" I spit out. "My reaping will probaby be rigged this year. I'll be dead. They can't punish someone who's dead." My mother sets her jaw and leaves the room. The slam of the bedroom door upstairs signifies that I've gone overboard. Even if my mother didn't want a child, she doesn't want to see me die. My father looks incredibly torn between following my mother and staying here to talk to me. He finally picks up the broom and dustpan and begins to sweep the grime that had fallen out of my hair.
"I didn't mean to make her mad," I say, pulling out one of the bar stools and sitting down. My dad empties the dustpan into the trash.
"I know," he says, and leans against the counter across from me. My father and I have always been really close. I don't have his skill with words, and I most certainly have my mother's temper, but my dad truly understands me. I know he'll love me unconditionally for as long as he lives. After all, he was the one who wanted a child in the first place.
After a long silence, he adds, "She just worries about you, Iris." I nod.
"But I'm as good as dead, anyway," I whisper. I feel my bottom lip tremble, and my father opens his arms. I stand and walk into them. He pulls me tightly to him. "They say the first reaping is the hardest, but it just seems to get worse every year," I whimper, tears falling down my cheeks.
"I know, sweetheart. They may decide not to pull you, though. Then you'd be safe at home with us for another year."
"I just kind of want to get my death over with." He hugs me tighter and kisses the top of my head.
"Remember that no matter what, your mother and I love you very much." Dad releases me. "Now go shower."
I turn the knob in the shower to "cold" and let the icy water run over me. It was scorching hot out in the woods, and the coolness of the shower is refreshing. I get out and throw on some clothes. I don't wear anything special to reaping like everyone else does. I don't see the point in dressing up to prepare to face my death.
I walk to the town square alone; my mother and father had to go early to take their places on the stage. I take my place in the 15 year old girl section and glace up at the stage. My mother clings to my father's arm, and a half-sober looking Haymitch sits next to them. He's getting up there in years, but his drinking still hasn't ceased. I catch my mother's gaze and hold it for a moment. In that spilt second, I realize that she loves me much more than I could ever imagine. The fear in her eerie silver eyes gave it all away.
I stare off into space while the mayor speaks, and then our escort is introduced. Her name is Lydia Trescott. Her skin and hair color are fake, like most people from the capitol. She bounces over to the bucket of girls's names and draws one. I hold my breath. Maybe they did decide to spare me another year of life. Wait until I get older and then surprise every one. Maybe they'll wait until I'm 18, my last year of reaping, and then pull my name.
"Iris Mellark," Lydia reads. Or maybe they just want to get my death out of the way now, while I'm still young. I walk up to the stage with slow, steady steps. There's no one who'll volunteer for me. I know that already.
"And now for the boys," Lydia chirps. She bounces her way over to the other side of the stage. I look out to the 16 year old boys and find Hunter. He looks at me, hazel eyes completely horrified. What we hear next intensifies that fear we both share by 100%.
"Hunter Ramington." They've put me with my best friend.
A/N: I don't know who's reading this, so I'll go ahead and introduce myself. I'm Lucy, and I mostly hang out in the Lizzie McGuire section of fanfiction. But, I am also a big fan of the Hunger Games, and I've been planning this story for a while now. I'm excited to finally get the first chapter up! I know it was short (my chapters are usually longer, trust me) but I figured that this is a good spot to stop for today. Suspense. Yeah…
Anyway, please review! :) I take criticism well, but flames will be used to burn down Snow's mansion. :)