The Princess Of Panem

Chapter Five: The Importance Of Grapes

By BluebirdBrigade

Aurora

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"Aurora Dyeran."

Every single muscle in my body broke down and I felt myself sag as if I was going to fall to the floor like a pile of skin and bones. But honestly, that was all I was: Skin and Bones. How could they expect me to fight in an arena with 23 other tributes? All of which want me dead, and most in excruciatingly painful circumstances. I felt my eyes prick with amplified fear, and my mouth went dry with panic. I felt someone bump my shoulder powerfully and I lurched forward. In all honesty it was the wake-up call that I needed. I stumbled out of the rows upon rows of people and walked up to the big podium on where Effie Trinket, the ghastly woman with vivid pink hair who came to announce the reapings every year, stood with her startlingly white teeth gleaming at me. They were almost as bright as my hair.

I know. I have practically white hair. My hair is that blonde, that it looks white but luckily I doesn't look as horrible as it sounds against my skin tone. But unfortunately, having white blonde hair has made me somewhat known around here in the seam. I'm the only poor child who has the hair of 'royalty'. I hate it. When I was younger, I used to get bullied by the kids at my school because I was the freaky kid with the bright blue eyes and the hair that was so powerfully bright. Ha, powerfully. It was so unlike me. But you never know, my hair could be my ticket to receiving sponsors in the games.

I can't believe I'm thinking about my hair at a time like this. I'm literally walking towards my death, and all I can think about is the growth on my head. Children luckier than me, move away from me as I make my way closer and closer to Effie like I have a disease. I've always been classified as weird by everyone but I've learnt to cope with it. I've learnt to cope with a lot of things—being from the seam. I turn around before my shaky legs can touch the steps that I'm supposed to climb. I turn around and scan the older men and women who stand around the sides, praying that their children will not be picked. It doesn't take me long to find him. He is watching me, his darker blonde hair glinting in the open sun. My brother, Apollo, breathes heavily and a deep pain clouds his eyes. I close my eyes, because I don't want to see it or I'll start to cry. Instead I send him a kiss, because I don't care how childish I look like. If I'm going to die, I'm going to let everyone know I'm leaving behind loved ones. People I care about, people that the capitol is taking me away from. I open my eyes, in time to see my brother give me a watery smile and his eyes fill a little. My strong brother, who has always been the one to stop my crying and kiss my bruises and cuts all better, is the one who is crying. Now I'm really going to start bawling.

I climb the stairs, my heart in my stomach and my cheeks red from trying not to lets tears slip down them and from the embarrassment of having so many people look at me. Effie Trinket claps her hands together and smiles hugely, her eyes bulging as she does so. Her wigs teeters slightly but as much as I will it to, it doesn't fall. I stare at the crowd with determination. They stare back, some pity glances and some blank because they don't know me.

"My My, what bright hair you have." Effie Trinket smiles, but I note a look of envy in her heavily eyeshadowed eyes. I feel like shouting at her to have it. She can have all of the hair on my head if she just took my place in the games. Seems like a fair deal. Ha, I really shouldn't be making jokes at this time. "Our female tribute, Aurora Dyeran. Let's give her a round of applause."

There is no clapping. There never is. You'd think after all these years Effie would just give up. They just stand, and watch me. Their eyes often pausing to watch my hair flutter in the breeze. I should probably explain how big a deal it is, that I have white hair.

When I was in my 4th year of school, a boy pushed me into a wall and I managed to scrape my entire leg on the brick. He claimed that witches should be burned and someone with as bright a hair as I had was without a doubt a witch. I ran home crying, curling up in my brothers arms. It was at this point that my brother told me that no matter what anyone thought, I was beautiful and I had to be stronger than the idiots that tried to push me down. My parents ignored us like they usually did but my brother took me through a gap in the fence behind our garden and led me to the heart of the woods. He then crouched on all fours and pulled out a sword that was tucked under a rock. It was the most beautiful sword I'd ever seen, a bejewelled handle that shone with rubies, saphires and emeralds. I remember actually falling back onto the floor with surprise. I had interrogated him on how he had managed to find such a rare beauty.

"You can't tell anyone this, Arianna." My brother whispered and I nodded solemnly. "I found it deeper in the woods, wrapped in a cloth and tied to a tree. Someone had left it there, on purpose and they had also left a note."

"W-What? What did it say?" I had eagerly replied, the perfect little audience. My brother graced me with a smile.

"Remember it is fate that destined you to find my sword." I had sat back, awed. And as Apollo had expected, I wanted to learn how to use the sword. I had been 10 then and now at 16, I had practiced every day. But what use was a sword to me, when the career tributes could use every weapon imaginable. They could probably use them better than I could. Most likely, they could have clobbered me over the head by the time I'd even thought of which angle I could defend myself with it best.

My brother was a master at using it, although he had taught himself. He knew different attacks from experience and I was merely his apprentice. But we enjoyed the time we spent together because it meant getting away from our parents who often pretended we didn't exist until need be. Well, that was until 2 years ago when they both died in a fire while me and my brother were at school. Being fourteen and my brother 19, I cried and wept for them even though I barely knew them. My brother just held my hand, and soothed me but no tears fogged his vision.

We weren't blamed directly for the death of our parents because we were at school, so there was no way we could have killed them. But whispers would follow me around. Witch. Witch. Witch. I often wished I was a witch, so I could say a spell and make them all disappear. No one approached me from my year, so I often sat by myself.

"Christian Waterfly."

I watched as everyone twisted in the 2nd line to face a boy with raven black hair and dark eyes. He was young boy, only 13 or 14 years old. His eyes met mine in a scared panic, but he masked the fear by dropping his gaze and walking like a warrior up the stairs. I didn't know Christian at all, and he didn't know me. But maybe this was better. I wasn't going to kill him, there was no chance there, but if he did get killed…I wouldn't have that pain that I could have had.

Christian reached us and stood either side of me, staring straight ahead. Effie turned back around to look at us and then she gave an annoyingly high pitched giggle.

"Well, what do you know! Complete opposites! How quaint!" We all know she is stalling so that she we can rush this 'ceremony' by. Christian and I give each other a long look but instead of being cold and distant, I give him a nod. I don't care how much these games will destroy us, I am determined to stay the person I am even if I go insane. I won't be rude to this boy that I've never met. Still Effie had a point, it was true. Stood next to eachother, Christian and I looked like exact opposites in appearance. But I knew that beneath the surface, we were both feeling the same thing. Fear.

I was suprised when Christian returned the nod, tentatively. Boy tributes are usually fiercer than the girls, its a well known fact. They're more ruthless, but don't let that fool you into thinking the girls are an easy kill. Sure, they are not as brute as the girls, except maybe Enobaria who tore open this one tributes neck with her own teeth, but they can be very manipulative.

I look around the rest of the stage. There sits the mayor, looking at us quite sadly but he doesn't look me in the eyes when I turn and look at him. Next to him is Haymitch Abernathy, who has a bottle in his hand that no doubt contains some sort of liquor. I like Haymitch, although vitually no one does. I used to know him around the hob, and we'd speak on occasion. I might be the only one who knows why he drinks so much alcohol, although you can probably guess. Haymitch has lead an awful life since the games, and he doesn't sleep well. When I can find any, I give him a fundol leaf that soothes his nerves and calms his mind but it is rare I fine one. I remember the day I met Haymitch.

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I had stumbled over some crates that contained some spices or something and the woman who owned the crates had shouted at me when one of them had been knocked over. She was shouting loud enough for everyone to turn and begin whispering, "Witch." again. I remember the panic I felt in my chest and the sweat that stuck to my palms as I apologised profusely. However the woman was having non of it, and probably rightly so. Food of any kind is hard to come by in a poor place like the seam. I was about to cry from the onslaught of this woman when a hand pressed out a pushed against the woman.

"Leave the girl be." Came the husky voice and the powerful smell of alcohol filled my senses. He tossed the woman a coin and she huffed at him but she turned away looking satisfied. I turned to the man ready to thank him, but his next few words made me pause. "You know your potions, am I right?"

No one knew about my potions, and I was sure that if they did it would only add to the emphasis that I was a 'Witch', and I didn't need that. They weren't exactly potions, more like medicines or soothers and I had a knack for making them. My grandmother had taught me how to use them and make them. I only let people I trust know I make them. I didn't let my parents know because they were greedy people and would no doubt sell my potion collection to anyone with a gold coin in their pocket. I was pretty good at working out which medication worked on what injury or which soother calmed the mind...etc. But I was suprised that Haymitch had found out about me.

"I do." I had whispered, pulling him into a corner of the street where we couldn't be heard.

"Good. Because I need something for this." He pulled up his t-shirt and I saw a wierd dark mark on his chest. It was a rich dark brown and clashed with his pale skin. I recognised it as a the rash of a gertewood plant. They were poisonous to touch and they spread and festered, but they cured coughs very well when you powdered the leaves and made them into a broth with lotus leaves. I placed my fingers on the inflamed skin, seeing angry red spots form around the dark red splotch.

I brought him back to my home, pulling my potions from under the floorboard beneath my bed. As I fixed him up I had asked, "Why didn't you get something from the capitol?" Haymitch had looked at me gruffly, the smell of my salb had gradually overtaken the stench of alcohol.

"They're useless. And I don't really trust the capitol."

"I don't think anyone does." I had said. Haymitch left and I thought that would be the last time I saw him. But the next day he came back, and gave me a rare smile. His rash had disappeared almost completely, the red spots had faded away and it seemed to be healing. And from then on, Haymitch came to my house - careful to come when my parents were oit - whenever he needed to. My brother was quite sceptical about the whole thing but I enjoyed having a patient to treat.

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"OUR TRIBUTES AURORA DYERAN AND CHRISTIAN WATERFLY. MAY THE ODDS BE IN THEIR FAVOUR." Cried Effie into the microphone, trying to be as dramatic as possible. She then turned to us with a creepy, big smile and ushered us off the stage.

And the only thing I could think of as I left the stage was that I was going to be killed and I was so scared.

Even after all these years, I was still the frightened little girl who ran home crying.

This is my first hunger games story, so I hope you guys like it :)