The Quelling
A FanFiction by
Miss Katonic
Chapter One
Compared to the Hunger Games
Because the Dark Days were brought on by the choice of the Rebels, the First Quarter Quell Tributes will also be sent to the arena by choice of their district.
After the announcement there is absolute pandemonium in the square. With the Reaping tomorrow, there is very little time to organize nominees and vote appropriately, but dear little Mayor Sterling is doing his best to make it to the podium in front of the large screen.
"Nominees!" he squeaks, pushing himself on tiptoe to grasp the microphone. "Those wishing to be nominated come forward."
I glance at my brother, Cobalt, who is only a year younger than I and the only other member of my family eligible for Reaping. He moves forward without looking at me. I catch his shoulder roughly and pull him back.
"This is my last chance," I hiss. His brow furrows, but he nods. I make sure he remains with our father before I push my way to the stand. Because I did not immediately rush forward, it takes almost an hour in the jostling crowd before I join the other volunteers on the stage. There is over a hundred of us.
"Any other nominees?" Mayor Sterling asks, hopping from foot to foot on his small patch of stage. When more cluster around the stand , the mayor pats his head with a silk kerchief.
"Let's eliminate the younger ones," he suggests to the upset grumbles of perhaps thirty. "Now, now, you'll have plenty more chances, let's give this year to those who won't have another opportunity." Those that thought they qualified as "older ones" but are only fifteen or sixteen complain vehemently, and cast angry glares at those of us who remain.
After all but the seventeen year olds remain, there are still well over fifty of us, but room enough for us to organize ourselves. Mayor Sterling separates the boys to one side, and all of us girls to the other. His face is red and his eyes betray how overwhelmed he is.
He turns back to the crowd that remains, searching for someone. I think I know, and my guess is confirmed when the mayor calls Bangle to the stage. I smile. I have done well at the Academy every year since I was seven. If this is based on score—and I believe it will be- the odds are in my favor.
Bangle ascends the steps and the mood on the stand immediately changes. We straighten our backs, shoulders up and flat, chins level, and salute our Academy's president with the respect he deserves. I can feel his scrutiny on me as I stare intently at the dark crowd before me. He knows I passed combat and strategy at the top of my class. I sense Ruby fidget beside me. She did well enough in swordsmanship and archery, but her ability to deal with pressure is abysmal. If I can smell her fear, surely Bangle can too.
He barks out several names of boys from the lineup, and those called step forward. Those that were not called melt into the background and I hear footsteps trudge off the stage. I run through the names he selected.
Glaze, Facet, Jude, Trillion, Filigry. Good choices. Bangle passes me, his steps rhythmic and full of purpose. He passed me, I can't help but worry. Did he walk past the boys once or twice before selecting them? I can't remember, I was too focused on reassuring myself. He hasn't called any more names out yet. Perhaps he's still assessing us. He pauses in front of Jade. Not Jade, I despair. She worked her way through the Academy with her eyelashes and dumb luck. Surely Bangle knew that.
"Ferra Lustersmith." His voice tilts up as he pauses before giving the next name.
My heart freezes but my legs seem to dissolve. I force myself to step forward, and I realize my face aches from smiling so hard. I bite my tongue in attempt to look less like a grinning idiot.
"Marqui Silva," Bangle continues, "and Tulle Hædon." I hear petty whispers erupt behind me as those remaining shuffle to leave. It is nothing new.
"These are the brightest, strongest, quickest District One has to offer the Hunger Games," Bangle announced. He was not a public speaker. He always sounded as if he were giving orders, but the emotions were running so high in the audience they cheered and screamed as if he a Capitol celebrity.
"Introduce them to the audience," I hear the mayor suggest quietly. Bangle's brows lower in distaste and it's obvious he is uncomfortable in the spotlight.
It's difficult to make out faces in the crowd with so many light blinding my face, but I can make out several of my fellow classmates have huddles together. I know I will receive their vote. There's also the parents of the little ones I train. They adore me because I teach their children before they're even old enough to enter the Academy. I charge a small sum, but no one could argue that they don't receive their money's worth. Those four year olds will be veritable warriors for their first Reaping.
My family is large. The more children you have, the more likely a your child will be offered as Tribute, and the more tesserae you can sign up for. We have plenty of food without the oil and grain, but any way to get your name in the bowl more times gets you the Victor's edge. My parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins will certainly vote for me. The odds are ever in my favor.
I realize Bangle is giving concise introductions of each volunteer, and that he has reached Trillion. Even though I know that if I win it means one of the boys on stage with me will die, I hope it isn't Trillion. Filigry I could easily justify killing. We are all bred to fight, but Filigry enjoys it too much. I let Glaze copy my homework a few times, but beyond that, he, Facet, and Jude are just faces.
"-est honor." Bangle is interrupted by the crowd's roars of approval and support. Was he still talking about Trillion? "Ferra Lustersmith," he continued, and I nodded my head, "finished her required Academy training early, and has spent this past year on specialized combat. She received marks high enough to qualify her for teaching the advanced classes in the fall."
The cheers are deafening, and drown out the beginning of Bangle's description of Marqui. I don't listen. I glance at Trillion, who is looking steadily ahead, his own lips quirked in a smile. Not Trillion, I think, but I know he has the best chance beside Filigry.
Bangle has fallen silent and so has the crowd. I snap out of my thoughts to see that Casca has stepped onto the stage. She is the Capitol representative and escort of the Tributes.
"Are these our lucky nominees?" she asks, spreading her arms wide. Her fingers and nails glitter with diamonds. The crowd bursts into more applause. Casca smiles, weaving between us and glancing at her clipboard.
"Here are my directions, straight from the Capitol!" she exclaims, opening a sealed envelope. She reads, "All citizens of the district Reaping age and older will cast their silent vote into the Tribute Bowls. The boy and girl nominees with the most votes will be revealed on Reaping Day." Casca looked up. "How exciting!"
Even as I step off the stage, I see voting tables being set up manned by Peacekeepers. I move to the nearest.
"Ferra Lustersmith," I say, pricking my finger on the spine set by the record book. The Peacekeeper nods and hands me a small slip of paper. I write my own name followed by Filigry's name, press the beaded blood beside it, and hand it back to him. One down, only the majority to go.
When I get home, I find Father already at the kitchen table, several account books spread across the entire surface.
"I was nominated," I announce roughly, slamming the door behind me. Father jumps, mutters, and keeps scribbling. I press a button above the kitchen counter, and a bowl of oatmeal slides out. I wrap the hot dish in a towel and sit in the chair across from my father. There's no room to set down my meal, so I balance it on my drawn-up knees.
"Don't spill," Father says absently, checking figures and adjusting his glasses. Irritation builds as I watch him.
"I was nominated to be Tribute this year," I say again, taking a bite and burning my tongue.
"Good, good," he mumbles, pressing his finger hard on an empty cell of the spreadsheet and finally looking up. "Are the others tucked in?" I scowl.
"I just got home."
When Father pointedly looks back to his books, I curl myself over my bowl and eat quickly. I leave without comment, and move to my brothers' room. I can see their bedside light is still on, and two of the three boys greet me happily when I slip through.
"You're going to win the Hunger Games!" Nickey exclaims, driving his pretend sword into his pillow.
"I have to be named Tribute, first," I laugh, grabbing him around his little waist and tickling him.
"You'll win everything," Rhodi promises, grabbing Nickey's feet. Nickey twists his ankle skillfully and seizes Rhodi by the finger. A clever move I taught him."
"Let go!" Rhodi pleads, and I separate them.
"Calm down, it's time for bed," I say sternly.
"I won't be able to sleep," Nickey argues, but slides under his covers.
"What about Trillion?" Rhodi asks suddenly as I tuck him in.
"Nevermind him." The harshness in my voice surprises even me, but I don't apologize. After I tuck in Nickey I glance over at Cobalt's corner. He's lying on his side, his back to me. He's angry, but I'm not bothered by it. He's only thirteen; he still has plenty of chances for glory.
I have my own bedroom, and I fall back on my unmade bed and stare thoughtfully at the ceiling. The announcement has been made all across Panem by now, and I wonder how other districts are handling the news. I know Districts 2 and 4 will be dealing with it much as we did. I've heard that the poorer districts mourn at Reapings, and I marvel how being summoned as Tribute could ever be a curse.
It is impossible to sleep. I toss and turn all night as my mind refuses to calm down. It is like this every night before a Reaping. Worse, now that I know my chances are so much better this time.
I know I am a better fighter than Tulle. Tulle has bouts of ferocity, but her personality is almost sickeningly sweet for the most part, and her face is so round she looks like a child. She is much smarter than I at the mechanics of swordplay and defense, but her physical ability is nothing to brag about. Against her it should be easy.
Marqui is more of a challenge. She and I are equally matched in strength, and even though she is quicker than I, my endurance beats hers every time. We took all the same classes and are at the top of our age group. It will come down to popularity.
The screen in my room flickers on, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the brightness. I hear a man announcing an unexpected pre-game match in District 2, and I force my eyes open. It appears District 2, given freedom to choose, decided to interpret voting as having a bloody tournament to determine its Tributes. Since I can't sleep anyway, I watch fight after fight, taking notes on the styles each competitor uses.
What a stupid way to reveal their skills, I think with amusement. Perhaps they didn't think it would be broadcast. As the sky turns to pale gray, I watch the last two boys and last two girls finish each other off. The Tributes will be a stocky, muscled sixteen year old boy named Pilat, and a small, quick girl my age named Demeter. I crumple the notes I took on the now-dead competitors, and slide the rest of the paper in the pocket of the dress I will be wearing for the Reaping.
It's too late now to hope for sleep, so I get up and shower. As I'm combing my hair out, I hear the rustlings of my brothers as they slowly wake and ready themselves as well. Its easy to hear their young, shrill voices as they excitedly discuss the Reaping.
When we meet in the market square, I stand next to Marqui and Trillion. Since there is only eight of us, the usual roped-off area is now only the small space in front of the stage. The brief film explaining the Hunger Games plays, Casca steps out to repeat the directions of the First Quarter Quell, and introduces us again. She doesn't do this for District One's audience, but for the rest of Panem. There is no guarantee this will make it to the final cut, but she does it anyway.
"We have all of your votes," Casca announced happily, moving to the glass tribute bowl that usually held the all the girls' names. Now there was only one white envelope at the bottom. I stared at it, willing to know the name written. Casca dipped her hand in the jar and withdrew the paper. She smiled.
"Ferra Lustersmith, please make your way up."
I hear Tulle growl softly behind me, but I don't care. I move towards the steps.
"I volunteer as Tribute!" I hear Marqui exclaim. I falter. This is not how the Quell works, is it? I glance uncertainly at Casca, and am emboldened at her smile.
"Now, now, dear, it doesn't work that way this time. We voted and Ferra won." I can't stop the catty smirk aimed at Marqui before I mount the steps and stand by Casca's side.
Filigry, Filigry, Filigry, I think as Casca withdraws the single slip from the boy's bowl.
"Trillion Burnish."
He looks at me as he joins us on stage. I try to keep my face calm, but he looks even amused. Casca takes our hands and raises them high.
"District One, I present your Tributes to the 25th Annual Hunger Games!"
I have been looking forward to this day my entire life. Dreamed about what it would be like. Practiced my interview with Augustus Flickermen. Every day of training for ten years was bent on this moment. It is nothing like I imagined. I look across Casca at Trillion, smiling and blowing ridiculous kisses. He doesn't seem to mind. After all, what is an engagement compared to the Hunger Games?