AN: Salutations to all readers unknown and, well, unknown. I have begun this adventure of penning my own fanfiction and I can only hope that it goes well, or at least that people actually like it. Hopefully, I didn't make to many horrible mistakes in the process, as that would be just slightly embarrassing considering the number of times I have read and reread this chapter. If you, the reader, notice anything amiss feel free to message me in some way to inform me of the error. No, seriously, feel free... I tried to make sure that the main character, Morlais, didn't seem like a Mary Sue or anything like that, but I'm not quite sure if I managed it completely. I'm not entirely sure if it's possible to make a good fanfiction containing an OC without having said OC have some sort of clicheness to them. And just so we're all on the same page, by Mary Sue, I mean the original context of the phrase that was coined by Paula Smith to describe Lieutenant Mary Sue in a Star Trek book, not the modern day ones that I always want to personally kill.
Anyway, LET THE GAMES BEGIN!
Chapter One ~ The Reaping
Making their way through the streets of District 4, was a small group of children ranging all ages. They crowded around the legs of the oldest of their group, a tall girl with striking green eyes and long bronze hair. She herded them towards the town square the same way a mother hen would her chicks. As the neared the large square, she halted the group and knelt to the ground.
"Okay, you all know the drill," she said loud enough for all seven children to hear, "Sammie, your the oldest not in the Reaping. You need to take the younger ones and make sure no one gets lost." Sammie, a young girl with her brown hair in pigtails, sniffed and jumped forward to hug the girl that had been her mother for as long as she could remember.
"Morlais, promise you won't leave." Morlais stiffened. She never made a promise unless she could keep it and this was one she couldn't keep.
"You know I can't. Sammie look at me. All of you look at me," she pulled the little girl away from her and gathered them all around so they could see her face, "I'm eighteen and I have a tessera out for each of you. My names in that bowl fifty-six times. The odds aren't exactly in my favor."
Sammie wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded. Then she took the hands the two toddlers and lead three of the others to the spectator section. Morlais stood up, dusted off her worn dress, and took the hands of the last two children that stood by her side.
"Weston, Dolly, we need to get you two checked in," She said to them.
"Morlais, what if one of our names gets picked?" Morlais looked down at the upturned face of a small girl.
"This is the first Reaping for both of you. You should be safe," she told them hoping that she was correct, "Now go to that line right there," she pointed to a short line of other twelve year old's, "From there you'll go to a roped off section in the very back. Stay together and you'll be fine." Looking at her uncertainly, the two headed off in the direction she had pointed, leaving Morlais to stand by herself.
'Time for hell," she thought and began walking to the line marked for the eighteen year old's. As always the Peacekeeper pricked her figure and took her name before shoving her past him to the the roped off section that she would stand in that year.
She stood there emotionlessly as the Mayor began to read the history of Panem, describing the Dark Days, the Uprising and the Treaty of Treason that had given the world the ever loved Hunger Games. She barely even registered the voice of the District 4 escort, Hester Falon, as she began the Reaping process by declaring, "Ladies first." The whole time she was to busy thinking, not Weston, not Weston. Anyone, but him.
Dolly had a chance of being pulled too, but she knew that even if Dolly was picked she'd be safe because the volunteer this year was a girl and there would barely be time for Dolly to make it to the stage before that bitch, Harper Greene, raised her hand. Weston though - there would be no male volunteer. The Academy had decided a while back that only one tribute would volunteer each year, since only one could come home. The other was always reaped.
"Morlais Bríd," was the first thing that penetrated her ears. She stood frozen to the spot for a full second. The silence seemed deafening. A sickening feeling began to form in the pit of her stomach as she slowly made her way out of the eighteen year old pen and towards what she thought surly would be her death.
If she knew Harper Greene well enough, and she was almost positive that she did, she would rather watch Morlais die on live television then volunteer to be tribute in her place. Their depth of hate for one another was that strong. Morlais closed her eyes against the staring crowd and, taking a deep breath, began to count to ten. On each count a bit of her life seemed to flash in front of her.
One: She was four years old again, sitting on her father's knee. Her curly bronze hair was tied into two little braids on either side of her face. She watched eagerly as her dad pulled an old deck of playing cards from his worn shirt pocket. She had always loved this part of the evening.
"This is a family heirloom," her papa whispered to her is his gravely voice. "It's been passed down from generation to generation." He flipped over the first card so she could see the faded details of the Queen of Spades. The magnificent lady was sparsely covered in beautiful pale golden scales. Her dress was a glowing gown of blues and greens, her hair fell in curly waves around her shoulders, and her seaweed eyes stared out from the image.
Morlais was always mesmerized by the Queens beauty. She seemed to shine with an inner wisdom that Morlais could never fathom with her young and innocent mind. She reached out with a small hand and caressed the old paper, causing her father to laugh deep in his chest.
"You like that one do you? That's the Siren, the queen of the sea. It's said that she is a master of illusion and can trick the wicked me into their down fall. And this," he pulled out another card from the old deck, "is her King, the King of Hearts. He has a fiery temper to balance out the Queens cool logic and he has the ability to ensnare the darkness in his traps.
Technically, her King should be of Spades, but I've always thought it made a better story combining fire and water." Morlais giggled in agreement. The King sat on an smoldering throne of ivory wood. Flames encased his frame like prestigious robes that showed his position of greatness. Adorning his head of coal black hair was a glowing crown of dying embers.
Together the two made a striking pair.
Two: It was a year later and she was now five. Her papa had her on his lap again and was showing her a few tricks he had learned over the years.
"See these cards?" he asked softly as to not disturb his sleeping wife. He held up the deck that she loved so much.
"Yes, Papa," she answered happily.
"Pick one and remember it, but don't let me see," he warned. Morlais reached forward with a short arm and pulled one from his grasp. It was the Ace of Diamonds. She loved the way the wind seemed to be alive in the small picture. The humanoid form of the Ace was made from pale lavender tendrils of air that swirled down and out to create an octopus like image. In his hands, he held a jewel increased sword of pure diamond. She was sure she'd be able to remember it.
"Memorized your card yet?" When she nodded her head in affirmation he said, "Okay now put it back in the pile any where you please." Morlais placed it in the middle of the deck and then watched in awe as the cards seemed to spin and twirl in an intricate dance through the air. When they finally came to a halt, her papa set the deck on a side table and reached up to her ear to withdraw a single card.
"Is this your card?" he asked as he handed her the Ace of Diamonds. Morlais clapped her hands in glee and her father grinned.
"This, Lacy, is one of my favorite cards," her papa explained. "The Ace of Diamonds has a tragic story of forbidden love." Morlais looked up at her father with her wide eyes.
"What happened?" she asked.
"He was in love with the Siren Queen," he explained, "but, he was a Diamond Royal Guard. He could never be with her or tell her of his love. Instead, he watched over her in secret and kept her safe from harm always," he softly said as he held the card in front of them.
"But one day there came a threat nearly to great for him to handle. When it came towards the end, he realized that either he must die or she would. So, for his love, he laid down his life and gave her his dying breath. The Queen never forgot him for as long as she lived."
A silence descended upon them as they both drank in the sad tale of the Ace of Diamonds. It seemed to last forever before being shattered by her asking, "Can we do the trick again?"
Her father smiled and answered, "Yes, of course." he picked up the deck from the side table and, after a quick shuffle, held them out to her again. She pulled one out and after memorizing the picture, she put it back in the pile. This time when the cards began to fly, Morlais was more interested in trying to figure out how her papa was doing it. As they stopped their movement, the only thing she had learned was that it made her dizzy watching them move so fast.
Her papa withdrew a card, set the deck aside again, and held it before her eyes already knowing that it was hers. She smiled at the Four of Spades. It was a simple card depicting a young merman with a golden tail and hair. His piercing green eyes stared up from the picture as he held onto his trident in a protective pose.
Morlais looked up at her father expectantly, "Does he have a story too, Papa?"
He looked at her knowingly, "Every card has a story Lacy. The Four of Spades, however, is an interesting one to hear. As always, it began with the Siren Queen, for you see, her father, the sailor, rescued the Four from a horrible death at sea, but died in the process of doing so," her father began. "The Queen, heart broken, could not make her way home after his burial. The Four, whom was thankful for his life and saddened for the Queens loss, escorted her back to her grand palace. When they reached the gates he kissed her upon her forehead and promised to serve her as faithfully as her father had served him and one day he hoped he could repay the debt that had been made."
Morlais sat for a few seconds absorbing the new information, and then, looking at her father, she asked, "Papa, are all the cards about death?"
Her papa laughed, "Life is about death Lacy. Understanding that will make the path easier to bare in the long run. Now, want to learn how to do the trick yourself?" Morlais, who had been staring down at her lap deep in thought, looked up with a spark of excitement in her eyes.
"Really?!" she asked eagerly, questions of death all but forgotten.
"Yes, really," he answered with a laugh. He picked up the deck of cards again and, placing them in her small hands, began slowly showing her how to throw them this way and that without losing any in the process.
Three: Morlais was now a grand age of six years old. She ran through her small house in stocking clad feet all the way to her parents bedroom where she threw open the old wooden door and took a flying leap into the middle of the big bed.
"Humph," was the first sound that came from her father as she landed on top of him. Her mother rolled over and groaned at the rude awakening.
"Mama! Papa! Guess what, guess what!" Morlais squealed. Her papa smiled up at her and said, "What?"
"You have to guess," she pouted. He laughed, "It wouldn't happen to be a certain someone's birthday would it?" he asked playfully.
"Couldn't be," his wife said playing along, "I specifically remember, my birthday was last month." Both began to laugh at the look on their daughters face and then pulled themselves into sitting positions.
"Come here birthday girl," her papa chuckled as he pick her up in a warm hug. "I have a new trick to show you," he told her as he got out of bed and set her down on the ground.
"You do?! Show me!" she demanded.
"What's the magic word?" her mama asked as she too slipped from the bed.
"Please?" she begged. Her papa smiled widely.
"Now, I need you to watch very closely." Morlais nodded her head to show that she understood. She watched as hard as she could, not blinking once, trying to make sure she didn't miss what he was about to do. He picked up a blanket from the bed and swirled it around himself, letting go at the last second. And then he was gone. The only thing left was the piled up blanket on the ground.
Morlais stared in shock for a full second and then ran to search the house for him. She found him a few minutes later in the living room, sitting in their favorite chair waiting for her.
"How'd you do that?" she asked as she climbed up into his lap. He winked at her.
"It's a secret, so you have to promise not tell."
"Okay, I promise," she exclaimed.
"Now, it all has to do with distraction," he started.
Four: She was seven and it was raining. The sky was dark even though it was afternoon. She stood next to a tall tree, dressed in her best black dress. She watched numbly as the big men walked past with the long, wooden makeshift casket.
Her papa was dead. They told her that it was a boating accident. They said that he died bravely, saving another boys life, but it made no difference to her. He was dead either way.
She watched silently, unable to move as the men pushed the casket into the water of the ocean. Even in her half dead state she could still tell that it was a dreadfully beautiful sight; her papa drifting away into the stormy sea. The lightning in the distance light up the sky in a salute to him and slowly he became nothing more then a speck upon the waves.
She didn't know when she started to cry, nor when she collapsed to the ground in despair. She didn't know when a golden haired, green eyed boy picked her up and carried her home to her mother who hadn't gotten out of bed since the day it had happened. She didn't know when he kissed her upon her brow as he left her asleep in her bed. She had a vague memory of it all, but she figured it was only a dream and nothing more. She only really knew that it was dark when her eyes flicked open and began to fill with tears as the weeks events crashed back in on her. She decided then and there that she didn't like reality. She would take the tricks and card games any day.
As the thought flitted through her mind, she jumped out of her bed and ran through the creaky hallway to the living room and her papa's chair. She clambered into it and reached for the box that held the deck of cards that were the last link she had to her father. Holding them in her small hands, Morlais knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that everything would be okay. It wasn't even a month later that she went to say goodbye to her mother on the same beach as her father.
Five: It was only a few weeks after her mothers death and Morlais was sitting on her new bed in the orphanage with her only possession, the deck of cards that was passed down to her by her papa. She was staring at the haunting image of the Queen of Hearts. The Queen was encased in a flaming dress of blues and dark grey feathers. Wings of intricate lace spanned from her shoulders and in her hands was a coal black bow with an elegant arrow notched and ready to fire. Morlais could almost hear her papa's voice telling her the story of the love that had lasted wars.
It had, for once, not started with the Siren Queen, but instead with the Two of Clubs. With his pale hair and sapphire eyes, he was shrouded in a cape of forest which, as his story went, he had painted himself to fade into the scenery around him. He had fallen madly in love with the Queen of Hearts, but had dared not tell her until her life came to depend on it.
Without his love it was possible she would have died, but for all she was worth, she hated him for saving her. And yet with the imminent treat to her family, she had married him and learned to love him as much as he loved her. As wars wagged around them and their world fell apart, they held onto that love and kept one another alive. Morlais had always thought it was a beautiful tale, one of the most lovely of all the cards.
"I wish someone could still love me that much," she whispered to herself as tears fell from her eyes. She missed her papa, but she knew she couldn't have him back.
As she cried for her dead parents, the Queen of Hearts was snatched from her hand by the grubby figures of twelve year old Ernie Lakk.
"Like anyone could do that," sneered Ernie in answer to her quiet wish. "What's this, another of your stupid cards?"
"Please, just give it back," Morlais begged. Ernie smirked cruelly at her and held up the card for his lackeys, Helen Sanmi and Forest Deston, to see. Both seemed to find something about it very funny, but Morlais couldn't figure out what it was.
"You want this card back?" he asked. She nodded her head. If anything his smile became even crueler as he waved the card in front of her face, just far enough away so she couldn't grab it.
He lowered his arm away from her and leaned in close, "Well to bad," he snarled at her. Then, in quick moments to fast for her to stop, he took the card in both hands and ripped it clean in half, before dropping it onto the floor and stomping on the pieces. The three pre-teens walked away laughing with Morlais's screams still fresh in their ears.
As they left Morlais crawled to the ground, sobbing, and picked up the two halves of the destroyed card of the Queen of Hearts. In some ways it was poetic justice, she though. The card had been ripped just like her heart and Ernie had stomped on it in a similar fashion to the way the world had stomped on her, discarding her when it was finished with it's fun.
Six: On the corner of Greene Street and Simpleton Avenue stood the young figure of a ten year old little girl dressed in a dirty, faded brown dress. Her stringy bronze hair lay limp around her dirt covered face. The only memorable thing about her, besides the filth, were the shining seaweed green eyes that seemed to draw the attention of passers by. This was Morlais and next to her feet was a small cap waiting hopefully for a few coins to sit within it's brim.
"Gather 'round, gather 'round!" she called out, "And I will show you the wonders of the Siren Queen." Morlais repeated the cry a few more times until she had a decent sized crowed surrounding her. She pulled out her deck of playing cards at this point and began the act that her father had taught her. That felt like ages ago to her weary soul.
The cards flew around her as she began to speak to the crowd, capturing them with her voice, "Many years ago the world was elements of fire, earth, air, and water with royalty to rule them. The most powerful of these royal figures was the Siren, the Queen of the sea," upon saying the name of the great figure, one card seemed to jump from her hands and magnify itself for the whole group to see. It was the image of the Spade Queen herself, larger then should be possible.
From there Morlais continued the story, weaving the threads expertly. She told of the Queens rocky rise to power, of her struggle between right and wrong. She described the slippery romance between the Queen and the King of Hearts, the lord of all fire. She depicted the Ace of Diamonds sacrifice and the Four of Spades promise.
The mesmerized crowd, had, by the end, doubled in size and she had a decent sized pile of money in the hat by her feat. Later, as Morlais counted her earnings, she realized that she wasn't quite sure where all of it had come from. The crowd had not been large enough, but she brushed the concern away for later. Instead, as she continued her counting, she smiled to herself, aware that her papa would be proud.
Seven: As she ran through the crowded streets, she dodged every which way to avoid being trampled by the oncoming crowed. She couldn't let them catch her. She didn't know what the academy kids would do to her, but she didn't want to find out.
She was now a grand age of eleven years old and she was quite well known for her street corner stories. Every market day she stood at the same corner, and every time she told a new story and showed new magic tricks. They weren't always about the cards either. Sometimes she would tell stories her mother had told her. They were what her mama had called fairy tales. Some of her favorites were the ones like the Little Cinder Girl or the Little Mermaid. Other times she would play tricks she had created by herself, such as the time she had what appeared to be a living tree in the middle of the street and had climbed it to tell her days story. When the story was over both she and the tree had disappeared, leaving a very confused crowed behind. After the shows, she would always count the coins and she would always find an absurd amount. She didn't know where it was coming from, but she was thankful for it, as were the rest of the orphaned children that the money helped to feed and cloth.
Today was no different. She had set up station in front of the street sign and even before she had begun speaking a crowd had surrounded her. It wasn't until the end when Morlais had noticed a group of teenagers making their way towards her. She had sensed danger before they had even reached her, but she hadn't let it show. Instead she had stood her ground and that's when the trouble had started.
They had begun to make fun of the 'poor little orphan girl'. When she didn't respond the oldest of the group had slapped her hard across the face. As she had fallen to the ground, she knew she had to make a get away. She twisted around, swirling her thin winter cape about her and then ran. All they saw was a empty piece of cloth crumpled in the dirt.
So here she was, dodging the obstacles in her path, flitting from one place to another as quickly as she could to try and loose the wolf pack on her heels. It hadn't taken them long to catch her trail once she had fled.
Up ahead of her she saw one of them running towards her from the front, she slowed and tried to switch directions, but as she did she was grabbed by her arm and dragged down an ally way by a dark figure she couldn't see.
"Thought you could make a fool of us did you?" an angry voice spat in her face as she was pressed hard against a cold wall. In the background she could hear the jeers of the others that had chased her.
"Naw," she gurgled out as best she could with his large hands trying to choke her, "Ya seem ta b' do'n a goo' ja' by you'selves." She knew she shouldn't antagonize him, he was an academy trainee. Her spent every day of his life preparing for to volunteer for the Hunger Games, but she had a feeling it was going to end the same either way. So she might as well get it out of her system while she could.
"You little whore," the boy growled at her before shoving her away from him to another behind them. "Tie her up. This bitch needs a lesson in manners. Janice the whip."
A boy no older then herself, dragged her over to a side of the ally and fumbled with the rope he was using to tie her to a pipe. "Please," she begged as their eyes meet. She was trembling with thinly veiled fear. She didn't want to die, but it didn't seem like she had much of a choice at this point.
"Help me." He averted his gaze from her and kept his mouth shut as he finished the knot. She was trapped. No tricks up her sleeve this time to save her. As tears threatened to fall down her face she made a silent promise to herself. She wouldn't let them break her. Not ever.
As the whip made it's first strike against her back she had to fight not to scream. She couldn't help the whimper that escaped her throat though, nor the water from her eyes that quickly betrayed her as they fell to the ground. The second hit was worst as it sliced over the first wound, but still she didn't scream. They whipped her again and again until heavy footsteps came running towards them.
With a last glance backwards at her bloodied form, the leader of the group grabbed the arms of two of his fellows and made a break for it. Her vision was flickering by this point and the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was bright green eyes looking down at her with a sick and worried expression.
Later when she woke up in her bed at the orphanage with a thick bandage around her torso, she wondered who it had been that had rescued her. Who ever it was, she had them to thank for her life. She just wished she could tell them, but all she had to identify the person was a short letter saying,
"Get better soon, my Queen.
~ The Four of Spades"
Eight: Weston Quinn and Dolly Zelqra sat on Morlais's bed, curled into her sides. Ernie and his cronies had been at it again. She wasn't sure how they had decided that three seventeen year old's was a fair fight against two six year old's and she didn't care. She was more concerned with the hurt and scared children that had come to her for help.
"Weston," Morlais said in her best motherly voice, "let me see your wrist."
The little boy turned his tear stained face up towards hers. When he received a comforting smile, he lifted his left hand to show her his obviously broken wrist. There was no way it could be at that angle and not be broken.
Morlais sucked in a breath. She knew what she had to do, but she wouldn't like doing it. To try and distract him, she flicked out one of her playing cards, the Nine of Spades.
"See this card," she asked him. He nodded just like she used to do for her papa. "This is the brave little solder, the Nine of Spades. He's the Mercury Prince you know. He looks just like you doesn't he," she said for he did indeed look like an exact replica of the little boy in her arms. His perfectly cropped black locks hung into his small face and he seemed to glow with a hidden light the shone behind him. His eyes gleamed silver to reflect his name.
Morlais could feel Dolly twisting to get a better look at the card. Smiling down at her, Morlais pulled out another, this one depicting a petite girl with sand colored tresses that fell to her knees in a single braid. Her dress of pure white and bright blue feathers flowed out around her seeming to have been caught in the wind.
"And this is his sister the ever beautiful Nine of Diamonds. I like to call her the Bluebird." Dolly grinned as she stared at the picture that could have been her if only she was a few years older.
"These two are very important to the Siren Queen. They are her adopted siblings and she loves them very much. However, to be her siblings they need to hold courage in themselves to face the dangers that she does. If you want to be like them, you're going to have to be brave. Can you two do that for me?" Both Weston and Dolly stared up at Morlais captivated and nodded their heads in agreement.
"Good," Morlais said decisively as she made the cards disappear, "Then little Mercury Prince, I'm going to need you to put this piece of wood in your mouth." She handed him a stick that she had kept for just such occasions. He gave her an odd look, but did as she said.
"Now, this is going to hurt a little, so you'll have to be brave, but it'll be over soon. Trust me." Morlais took his hand in hers before another word could be said and with a quick twist, set it back in place. As she did so, she could see Weston bite down hard on the wood as he withheld a scream. He then burrowed his head in her side and began to cry. She felt horrible about causing him pain, but it had to be done. She then set about splinting his wrist while murmuring words of encouragement in his ear.
Nine: She was running again.
After years of being chased by them she had finally learned their names. The leader of the group that had whipped her the first time, was Shay Thanton, the mayor's son. She'd never forgive him for the scars that now laced her body.
His right hand man so to speak was a girl by the name of Janice Felton. With them, there was always a tag along in Harper Greene. Morlais had decide that despite everything the Thanton had done to her, she hated Harper the most. Even more then she hated the boy that always saved his own skin and held her down for the others to torture. Dilan Cresta was a cowered and that's all he'd ever be to her, but at least he didn't seem to get sick pleasure out of trying to get her to scream without success.
Harper Greene on the other hand was a different story. She was completely insane. No normal person would do the things she did. Every time the group chased Morlais, Harper would be the one to go over board so to speak. She was the main tormentor of them all.
There were more in the group then just those four, but they were always different from day to day. The only other person that she could always count on was her guardian angle, the Four of Spades. She still didn't know who he was, and he didn't always get there in time, but he always came and he always left a letter of some sort to let her know he was still there. She had folded up each one and placed them in a small box she had bought from a stall. She just wished he had made an appearance today, but she couldn't blame him. She hadn't exactly given him time.
Thanton wasn't happy with her, but seriously it was a complete accident and after all the cuts and scrapes he had given her, one lost hand hardly tipped the scale. How was she supposed to know that a single thrown card could cut threw skin, muscle, and bone. And it wasn't like he hadn't just tried to rape her.
As she ran through the crowded streets she laughed manically at the realization that she had finally broken their hold over her. Never again would she be afraid of any of them, not when her deck of cards was glued to her side. Now she just had to perfect the art of card fighting. It shouldn't be to hard. She had been using the cards for as long as she could remember and she was fourteen now. Hopefully her Four of Spades didn't mind that she had found a way to replace him.
Later, after she had reached the safety of the orphanage, she stood in front of her bed and practiced as if her life depended upon it, for in a way, it did. It wasn't until she finished that she noticed the piece of paper laying on her bed. Picking it up, she unfolded it and read the note inside,
"Good one. Not sure how Thanton lost a hand, but something tells me it wasn't the vicious shark that he's claiming attacked him.
You'll have to watch your back extra carefully from now on though. He's not exactly happy that his chance at the Hunger Games just went out the window.
~ The Four of Spades"
Ten: She sat before the old screen of the TV watching as the Tribute, or should she say Victor, of the 75th Hunger Games, stood in the middle of his killing ground. He would be famous from this moment onward, and not just because he was a Victor. He was responsible for the death of all twenty-three of the other tributes. It had never been done before, but she was sure others would try to match his record now.
Gale Hawthorne stood staring at the destruction he had caused. If Morlais didn't know any better she'd say he was frozen in shock. It was almost as if he hadn't expected to win.
'That's silly,' she told herself, 'He probably just wasn't expecting to ever get the chance to be in the Games.' It had thrown everyone for a spin when the capitol had announced that the tribute pool for the Quarter Quell would be pulled from 19 to 26 year old's.
When the names were pulled, the announcers of the Games had had a field day over the District 12 male tribute. He was the cousin of one of the Victors of the previous year, Katniss Everdeen, or would that be Katniss Mellark as her wedding had been just before the games. Everyone was expecting great things from him. But when the games had started everyone except those in the Capitol were highly disappointed.
She knew that all the normal people in her district were disturbed by what they witnessed him do. None of the others even stood a chance the moment they had entered the arena. He captured them all with different traps and usually they were set as if to catch a wild animal.
The first tributes he captured were the careers. That was in the first few seconds. Once they were out of the way, he went hunting. The whole thing lasted just under two days. It was the quickest victory in the history of the games.
"Morlais?" a soft voice said from her side. Morlais jerked her head to look down at Weston who was sitting next to her.
"Yes?"
"Why do you think he did it?" Morlais looked back at the screen to see Gale Hawthorne being pulled away towards the hover craft.
"I don't know," she answered truthfully.
"Maybe he did it out of habit, kind of like you with the cards," Dolly suggested from her other side.
"Or maybe he's just that messed up," Sammie, who was sitting in Morlais's lap, added with a scrunched up nose.
"Maybe," Morlais said to all and none at the same time.
As the last memory faded, Morlais flick her eyes open now completely calm. She let a smirk fall into place. She could do this. All she needed was a deck of cards and maybe a cape, but she could win this thing.
If Harper was just a little bit smarter she'd realize that Morlais was probably the most capable for the job, but that wasn't likely to happen. It had been four years since she had taken off Shay Thanton's hand with a single playing card and although it had been a fluke, she could still do a lot of damage. That didn't mean it computed in Harper's head though. And sure enough, when Hester called for female volunteers no hand was raised; no voice called out.
Hester then moved on to the male tribute, fishing around the bowl for a slip of paper. The whole time Morlais pretended to be indifferent, but in reality she was back to praying for Weston. Luck didn't seem to be in her favor though, because when the name was called her heart stopped and her face flashed with panic.
"Weston Quinn."
'Of all people why did it have to be him?' she thought to herself. He could not die. She wouldn't let him. He was her little Mercury Prince, the Nine of Spades. And he was only twelve.
She watched terrified as Weston climbed the steps of the stage with Peacekeepers at his back. He was trying to be brave, just as she had taught him to be, but Morlais could see the quiver of his bottom lip and when their eyes meet he ditched his act and ran to her. She unfroze as she knelt down and scooped him into her arms, letting him cry on her shoulder.
"Shhhh. It's okay," Morlais told him quietly as she stroked his hair. She could see Hester's baffled expression as she held the crying boy, but Morlais ignored her. Instead, she pulled Weston away and looked him in the eye, "I won't let anything happen to you. Promise." He wiped his wet face and nodded in understanding. He would be okay if Morlais said he would.
"But what about you?" he asked. Morlais gave him a sad smile as she pulled him back in for another hug.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be okay." Just as she finished uttering the words, the unexpected happened.
"I volunteer as tribute," called a voice from the crowd. Morlais snapped her head upwards and met the eyes of the one person she would never have though capable of doing such a thing.
The crowd parted as Dilan Cresta stepped forward and began walking towards the stage. Morlais was unable to hid her surprise, nor her confusion as he mounted the steps, but she was thankful none the less. She watched in shock as he stepped next to Hester and began to introduce himself to the audience. She couldn't believe what was happening. She tore her eyes away form Dilan with some difficulty and looked back down at Weston.
"Weston, you need to go," Morlais told him, "Find Dolly and the others, then take them all home. Don't come to say goodbye, it would be to hard on the little ones." She pulled out her deck of cards she had gotten from her father, "Here, take this. You know how to use them," when he tried to refuse she said, "Don't worry about me, I have an extra set for emergencies." He nodded tearfully and, with one last glance at her, ran down the steps to follow orders.
Morlais stood up and faced the crowd again just as Hester began to say,
"Tributes shake hands,"
Morlais looked over at Dilan. He looked like an ice sculpture, he was so stiff. He didn't seem like he was going to make the first move, so Morlais glided over to him and held out her hand. He took it in his and they shook firmly.
"Happy 76th Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor," Morlais said loudly in a fake Capitol accent for the whole audience to hear. She then dropped the hand hold and escorted herself into the Justice Building behind them.
AN: Well, that's all folks... Hope you all enjoyed it. I'll try to have another chapter up soon, but I'll have you know, it took me a week to write this over Thanksgiving break. I'm not sure how long it'll take with school returning with a vengeance tomorrow 'morn. I don't think my teachers would be to happy if I completely ignore them to write a fanfiction instead. Oh, just so you all know, I have no clue if any of the card tricks are actually possible, but for the sake of the story we're saying they are. Got it? Good. And if I didn't make this clear at the beginning, I don't own Hunger Games.
Sincerely,
Pen