Disclaimer: I own nothing; OUAT belongs to ABC and Hunger Games to Suzanne Collins.

This is the first of many parts; stay tuned!

Intro: The Reaping

People had been trickling into the town square for about half an hour, but most would wait until the very last minute, which was exactly what Phillip and Aurora Rose were doing. They were sitting under the large tree in her back yard at the mayor's house.

"You have nothing to fear, Aurora," Philip said while holding her hand. "Your name is only in there five times-your chances are next to nothing."

"It's not me I fear for; it's you. How many times is your name in there?" she asked.

"Don't worry about me; I'll be fi—"

"How many, Phillip?"

The boy sighed. "33." Phillip had had to enter his name in the Reaping multiple times per year in exchange for the tesserae that helped his family—his mother and his two younger siblings—survive. "My chances are still low, though; I know several boys with as many as 50 slips in there."

"Phillip, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. I love you."

"I love you, too," he said, unsure of what else he could say to comfort her. Then he remembered what he had in his pocket. He reached down and pulled out a necklace; a silver pendant shaped like a swan hung off a simple chain.

"Here. This is for you. Swans are a symbol of love and loyalty; I will love you and be true to you as long as I live." It was sappy, but he didn't care.

"Oh, Phillip! You didn't have to-it must have cost a fortune!" It did, but he didn't want her to know that.

"Let me put it on you." She turned to face away from him and he gently reached around her to clasp the necklace around her neck. When it was secure, she turned back to face him and found his lips.

A loud, tinny voice over the loudspeakers interrupted them just then: "All citizens, you have 20 minutes to report to the town square. The Reaping ceremony will commence shortly."

They broke apart, and Phillip stood and offered Aurora his rough hand. "Shall we?"

Taking his hand, Aurora joined him, and then brought her lips to his again. No words needed to be exchanged.

Hand-in-hand, they made their way to the square, signed in, and joined their respective groupings for the reaping. Aurora took her place with the other 16-year-old girls; despite her position of relative comfort as the mayor's daughter, she looked and dressed no differently than the others. But her auburn hair fell over her shoulders, and caught the sun in a way that couldn't help but hold Phillip's attention, even from his position across the way with the 16-year-old boys.

Shortly, the ceremony began. Aurora's father, Stefan, led a small procession to the stage, including the only living victor from District 12, Mulan Fa. Despite her slight build, Mulan had proven to be an especially fierce warrior in her games.

After a short video explaining the games (as if anyone didn't know what they were at this point), narrated by Panem's President Gold, Mayor Rose welcomed Maleficent Horn, their district's escort from the Capitol, to the stage. True to her name, Maleficent wore a hat with two large, horn-like appendages, which complemented the dramatic arcs on the shoulders of her short, black dress. Ridiculous, Phillip thought.

"Thank you, Mayor Rose. Let's get started, shall we? Ladies first!" Maleficent reached into the bowl to her left, filled with thin strips of paper, all with the names of the girls standing before her. She selected one, unfolded it, and stepped back to the microphone.

"District 12, your female tribute for the 74th Hunger Games is...Aurora Rose."

Several hearts stopped at once, but Phillip was struck especially hard. No, no, no; not her, he thought. He waited to see if anyone would volunteer, but that never happened in District 12. He watched as she slowly worked her way toward the stage, her eyes cast down the whole time, her hand at the pendant. She had been so concerned for him, but he never thought he'd have to imagine a life without her. In an instant, he knew what he had to do.

"And now, on to the gentlemen," Maleficent said, heading toward the other bowl. Once she made her selection, she announced, "Thomas Clar—"

"I VOLUNTEER!" Phillip ran forward to the clearing and shouted. "I volunteer as tribute." If there was any chance of keeping Aurora alive, this was it. He didn't doubt her skills, but she knew little of surviving.

"Well, isn't this a surprise? A volunteer! Come forward, young man," Maleficent commanded from the stage. He ran up and embraced Aurora when he got there, before being beckoned to the mic. "Tell us, what is your name?"

"Phillip Prince."

"Thank you, Phillip, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

From his home in District 4, Killian Jones, victor of the 60th Hunger Games, observed the events in District 12 as they were broadcast. He was about to make his way to his own town square for the local Reaping, and from there would head with this year's tributes to the Capitol as one of their mentors.

"What a bloody fool," he heard himself say, but he didn't even believe himself. He had been hiding behind a cocky, arrogant facade for so long, that he found he even wore it when he was alone. In reality, the boy's actions hit a little too close to home: Killian was one of the only people who could say he survived being reaped twice, but that was only because the first time his name was pulled from that bowl when he was 12, his older brother, Liam, had stepped forward in his stead. The boy even had similar coloring as Liam, with his short, brown hair and blue eyes, and looked to be about the same age and have the same narrow, strong build.

For the sake of the boy and the boy's apparent love, Killian truly hoped that this Phillip would meet a better fate than Liam had: poisoned by the dreamshade plant, dying painfully and alone. It was a vision Killian had never been able to shake, especially when his own name was drawn again six years later.

Regardless of the outcome, the boy was about to find out that the games would only ever cause pain, even if he managed to win—a lesson Killian had learned the hard way several times over; Liam had only been the beginning.

Emma Nolan could hear her mother gasping from downstairs. "David! Look at that—he volunteered to protect the woman he loves!" "Yes, my dear; I'm sitting right here." It surprised Emma that her mother was still capable of such girlish outbursts after years of watching innocent children in her charge be murdered as she watched on. As cruel as that sounds, it was true; Mary Margaret Nolan and her husband, David—who were victors in back-to-back years, and were practically considered local royalty—had long served as District 7's mentors, with one exception: the year their daughter, Emma, was reaped (Mary Margaret's best friend, Ruby Lucas, had the honor that year).

Her parents had finally had enough, though, and so Emma found herself packing a suitcase in anticipation of her first year as a mentor, alongside her best friend, Graham Humbert. To the rest of the world, they were more than that—as far as the Capitol and its citizens were concerned, Emma and Graham were true loves, living happily with their son, Henry. And she did love Graham, but more as a brother than a lover, and she knew he felt the same toward her. Their shared experiences in the games brought them together as friends and as parents, but she had long since vowed to never fall in love again; not after what happened with Neal.

"Mom, hurry up! Dad's already packed. You don't want to be late!" Henry ran into her room, shouting. He knew Graham wasn't his biological father, but as the man who raised him, it was only fitting to call him Dad. Honestly, he looked more like Graham's son than Emma's, with their shared dark, messy hair; she'd hoped Henry would inherit her green eyes, but they were definitely Neal's.

"Almost done," Emma replied, zipping up her bag. "Just missing one thing: a hug." She walked over to her son and wrapped him tight. "I'm going to miss you, kid."

"I'll miss you, too, Mom. Are you sure you have to go?"

"Yeah, I do. It's my turn. Plus, I think your grandparents are looking forward to having you to themselves for a few weeks." Henry laughed at that, but hugged just a bit tighter. "I love you, Henry." "Love you, too."

Graham poked his head into the room. "Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be."

"Shall we, then?"

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