So I am breaking absolutely every rule that I have about writing and am not only starting a new story while I'm already in the middle of another, but I'm also writing a Hunger Games story which I promised myself I'd never do just because I didn't want to ruin an already beautiful story.

Basic lowdown, the story begins with an established Brittana relationship but it will gradually shift Pezberry. I'm going to be trying to incorporate as many of the characters as possible, and I'm also experimenting with different point of views so please bear with me.

Other than that, thank you everybody for reading, let me know what you think, your feedback is much appreciated!

Prologue
61st Annual Hunger Games - Reaping Day - District 12

Your fingers bunch uncomfortably at the hem of the dress that your mother has laid out for you for the purpose of the reaping.

The fingers gather a handful of fabric; it's thick and scratchy against your palms, reminding you why it is that you only wear this outfit once every year.

Your ribs constrict painfully against your lungs, making it difficult for you to breathe as you watch Emma Pillsbury's hand disappear inside of the large glass bowl decorating the center of the stage, resting directly adjacent to one identical that remains currently untouched… for now.

Ladies first, you are not soon to forget.

You feel a hand reach out and clasp against your own, pulling you away from steadily destroying the corduroy fabric with your fingernails…

Brittney must know that your mother will kill you should you come home tonight with your skirt ripped at the seams… Sometimes, you like to joke that you fear the wrath of your mother even more so than you fear the inside of the arena.

Sometimes you joke about this, but you do not do so today.

'One more year…" The only means by which you have made it through today is this reminder, and the clammy hand that is currently pressing into your palm merely pushes this thought even further against the forefront of your mind. 'I am seventeen years old… I only need this dress for one more reaping, and then I can destroy it… Why not just start now?'

You know that you should not be jinxing yourself… your father had been a superstitions man... You are all too aware of the idea that you had barely known the man, his untimely death greeting him mere days following your sixth birthday, but still, your mother always tells you that you carry your father's traditions well beyond the grave…

You quietly appreciate her for this.

"It will be okay…" Brittney is murmuring under her breath, but whether she is talking to you, or herself, you cannot be entirely certain… Either way, the blonde's words are not corresponding with her actions as her fingernails dig almost painfully into your skin.

Emma is grasping at a thin piece of paper; she holds the slip, marked illegibly to the anxiously awaiting crowd below with the name of the individual whose odds were most definitely not in her favor…

The Capitol representative fumbles with the paper's folding only briefly between gloved fingers; she takes her time in her silence, reading slowly the name embedded upon the piece of paper, stalling in just a manner that has your heart screeching to a standstill.

You know what she is about to say before the words so much as reach her lips.

"Santana Lopez."

You did not hear her correctly, you tell yourself; you had been imagining this outcome, the reading of your name was all in your head…

Or maybe you have heard her; maybe, it has simply not yet registered with you, the idea that it is your name that has just been called amidst the thousands… You think this, because when the crowd before you slowly begins to back away; forming a radius about your still form as if a reaping was actually contagious, at first, you find yourself following.

Step away from that sorry soul while you still have the chance.

You're made aware of the news by their eyes… Hundreds, thousands of them all pointed at you; you can feel them before you can actually see them, and when you look up, only to see your own face illuminated about the multitude of screens before you, you know that it's true.

You insist that your eyes remain dry. There will be a time for you to cry, however, now is not it.

The cameras have already descended upon you; your rivals, your potential sponsors, the entire world is watching you right now… you cannot cry.

You wish however, that you can say the same for Brittney, the second that you see the tears streaming down the blonde's face.

If anything, this will only make you appear stronger; holding your own as your lover descends to tears before you… You're appreciative; Brittney has always managed to find a means by which to save you from even the most hopeless of situations.

She allows you to progress through your refusal to think of everything that you will lose after today... You refuse to think of what could have been, what ought to have been...

No, you remind yourself... You were one of the lucky ones, you who is already referring to yourself in the past tense, unlike so many of your impossibly young counterparts called to the arena before you have had an opportunity like no other...

You have been granted the opportunity to fall in love.

You offer the blonde an assuring smile, a quick nod; and finally, just as you are preparing to turn towards the stage, you change mind, you retreat back and you lean forwards, pulling Brittney into your arms, attaching your lips onto hers as you clutch the girl that you love so much even closer into your own arms.

Slowly, you realize that the luck has indeed been in your favor all along, but it is the least that you can do to wish that it could have stuck around for just a little while longer.