Hey there! Just wanted to say that the fanfic we have here is (obviously) about how the nation Panem from "The Hunger Games" came to be. Reviews and ratings are always nice.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything belonging to Hetalia or The Hunger Games. The elements of those two fandoms belong entirely to their creators. The only thing here that belongs to me is the OC I made for the personification of Panem.
Enjoy!
-M. Rykov
The sun had setted over two hours ago.
Yet, there were still people huddled against the familiar site where the Towers had taken their fall. Candles were still lit and American flags were still held aloft as people began to peel off, their feet hurting from standing for so long, their lungs and throats aching from their tears, their skin caking from the cold.
Some still refused to leave, drawing shawls over their faces and holding the candles closer to themselves in an effort to warm up. Alfred stared up at the sky, hardly able to believe that the Towers were no longer there. It had been a year since that awful day, but the wound was still raw. The New York landscape seemed so empty without the Towers, so sad and mocking, like a butterfly without its wings.
He looked down and heaved a sigh, his breath misting before him. The crowd began to thin out, the persistent New Yorkers heading back to the comfort of their homes, leaving Alfred alone in the vast expanse of icy asphalt and cement. Alfred had never felt so alone; he had never felt as small and insignificant as he did now, standing here alone in the middle of the night with the lights of New York as his only comfort. He sighed again, pulling his signature bomber jacket closer around him, readying himself for the walk back to his apartment, until a small sound stopped him.
He immediately snapped to attention, the sound being the high cough of a young child. He whirled around to see a small figure off a few feet in front of him, their back turned to him and facing north, staring off ahead into nothing. He could tell the child was a young girl because of the long hair and the petite little frame. He approached the child slowly, not wanting to frighten her as he came up as an indistinctive figure behind her. Before he could put a hand on her shoulder, she suddenly turned to face him.
Alfred was taken back, startled by the little girl's wide, piercing gray eyes. She looked up at him boldly, her eyes grim, holding all the authority of an adult. Her little round face was pale except for her cheeks, bitten pink by the cold. Strands of coarse black hair flew in threads across her face. Alfred leaned down at her eye level.
"Hi," he said quietly, his usual loud voice reduced to a small whisper in the mourning cold. She blinked up at him as a response.
"Are you okay?" he asked, trying to get at least one intelligible scentence. The little girl only nodded. And then she smiled softly.
"I'm okay," she said, her voice high and scratchy with the ice in the air. She coughed into her hands before rubbing them together. "Just a bit cold."
Alfred only nodded. "Are you lost?"
The girl shook her head, looking up at Alfred with those wide gray eyes
"No. Not really. I've been figuring out a lot about who I am."
Now why did those words sound familiar?
Lately I've been figuring a lot about who I am.
Alfred made a small smile and put his hand out to touch the top of her head. "Really now?"
The little girl nodded eagerly. "Yeah, it's taken a while, but now I know for sure."
Alfred furrowed his brow playfully. "And who exactly are you then?"
This time, the little girl's eyes brightened, intensifying her strange colored eyes and lightening them against the city's sad nighttime hour.
"Livia Galloway," she said sweetly. "And who are you?"
Alfred smiled, albeit sadly. "I'm Alfred F. Jones."
Livia nodded and looked Alfred up and down, scanning him. "You're big."
Alfred let out a laugh. Not one of those strained, thin laughs that he had been so accustomed to as of late, but a genuine laugh that made his voice boom and echo throughout the empty courtyard. He wasn't sure why he lapsed into such a loud bout of hysterics because of the small, congenial comment; perhaps it was because he had gone through so many kept emotions today, perhaps it was because these past few days of darkness had been something he had been eager to end. But whatever it was, he had been thankful for it. He hated being so miserable for such a long period of time.
He looked down at the child with dancing gray eyes and beamed at her as his laughter died on his lips.
"Well, Livia, you just made my day."
To be continued...