Disclaimer:I do not own the Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins does.
Mag's POV
"I volunteer as tribute."
I don't think they understood my garbled words, but my intention is clear.
I am going back into the arena.
Memories of my own games cloud my thoughts, but before I am paralyzed with fear, I shake my head and march boldly to the stage.
As I walked to the platform, I looked over my shoulder, not to give my family a final glance, but to look at the girl I saved. Annie was among the faces in the female victor crowd. Her round, childish green eyes were wild, and she was clutching her head in between her hands, moaning.
Possibly, underneath her madness, she was still aware about the things around her. Does she feel guilty? Knowing I would never return? Thinking that whatever would happen to me in the arena, it would be all her fault? I hope she would never think these things, because it isn't her fault. I chose my own fate, and I believe she deserves a second chance at a normal life. To fall in love, to marry, to have children, to grow old, maybe with her beloved Finnick. Her life had barely begun. Me, old and having lived a full, long life, I should be the one to go. It just made sense. This is why I volunteered for her, not for another chance at glory. I smile to myself, almost maniacally. I hope she lives the rest of her life happily.
As I climb the familiar steps, I get a feeling of déjà vu. The last time I climbed these cold, familiar steps, I was fifteen and stronger and scared, thinking I would never see my family again. But now, as I take my place beside Claudia, I know I have no hope of winning. Not just because now I am frail and weak, because for Katniss to live, for the rebellion to live, I would have to die.
But strangely, I am fearless.
I am not scared. I am prepared for my fate. I don't think I would have volunteered in the first place.
Author's Note: First fanfic!
Please, don't flame too badly! Review, please!