A/N - Hi :3 So. I'm doing this weird pairing. There's another person who has the same pairing, but started their story before me. It's called "Diamond Flame" by wjjmwmsn5! You should read it! It's really good :)

Enjoy! O: AND P.S. This may have some (a lot of)… foul language. As I might put it. LOL.


~ * Marvel POV * ~


The alarm clock next to my bed goes off, earning a groan of annoyance from me. "Who… the… fuuuuck get's up at 4am during Reaping Day? It still looks like it's fucking midnight, and The Reaping doesn't every start until noon." I grumble, sitting up from bed, rubbing my eyes, and slam in the snooze button, wishing I could break it into a million pieces. Coldness radiates from the room, embracing me once my blanket leaves my body, making me shudder and bring the blanket back up to warm my body. Oh yeah, me. It was my fucking idea in the first place… wasn't it? To "prepare" for the Games in advance. Yeah, like I haven't been training for the past 17 years. I think bitterly to myself as I force myself and the blanket out of the snug, silky bed, my body whining in complaint. My feet drag themselves along on the soft carpet floor, heading towards the bathroom. I clap twice and the bedroom and bathroom flit on and I'm temporarily blinded for a minute. I squint my eyes, trying to adjust to the light quickly. My eyes adjust and I take a look at myself in the immense mirror. I see 17 year old, he's a very tall, slim muscular boy with short, unkempt auburn hair that stops a little beneath his ears, vivid, confident blue eyes, and has pale skin. And, I have to admit, he is, I mean, I am, pretty handsome. My mouth goes up in a smirk.

I comb out my hair in a not-too-proper way. It looks a bit messy, but oh-so… how do I put this…? Marvelous. Yes. That's what I am to myself, to everyone else, down to my toes. I toss my blanket out to the side somewhere. We'll probably have a housekeeper over to clean today, so it's not my problem. I splash cold water onto my face and brush my teeth without hurry, then walk out of the bathroom, into my now illuminated bedroom. I take in every detail of my room, a neat, organized throne room just for me. My prized spear is in a glass rectangular prism in the middle of my gargantuan room, the middle being an area in a circular shape with stairs surrounding the perimeter, descending into the circle. The stairs ascend into my domain. I have a much of crap I never use, like a few guitars, game consoles, ect. Everyone in 1 envies me because my family has way too much money than they know what to do with, I have fame, looks, and intelligence. I basically live like a Capitol citizen. My dad was the winner of the 56th Hunger Games, my mom the 57th Hunger Games. They were both 18 those years, vicious, and ready to take anything the Gamemakers could throw at them. And they both ended up on the list of the Capitol's favorite victors, and massive amounts of money were thrown around. People showered them with diamonds, every precious jewel you could imagine, money, and so much more. That is what I'm going to be this year... I blink and nausea settles in my stomach. But why do I feel like I don't want it? Of course I want it. Who wouldn't? I'd be bringing home more riches and more fame to my household. I keep telling myself this, over and over again, but the nausea just grows stronger. I must be tired. I throw on my training uniform; a tight black shirt made out of stretchy material, flexible black pants, and supple black leather boots. I take a moment to stretch before I walk over to the glass rectangular prism and slide open the door that secures my precious baby. If anyone dared to touch my smooth-to-the-touch, polished, solid gold, hand-crafted spear, I would knock their block completely off. I slide it into a slender, tall box, and the box into a spacious, empty guitar case. You can never be too sure, with all those Peacekeepers crawling around, especially today. I clap once before I leave my room and all the lights dim to an eerie glow. I try to slide down the lavish grand staircase quietly, even though there's no one really to wake, only my mom and dad. The house is adorned with breath-taking things, but that doesn't stop the emptiness and coldness that embraces our far too large, echo-y house. I exit through the back door, but not before I scratch a sleeping Muffins, our family's cat, behind the ear, earning a purr in response. The brisk wind whips around me and through my hair, causing me to shudder. The heavens look like it's about to pour down a wrath on District 1. I hurry over to the Career Academy building, looking forward to getting out of the gloomy weather. I feel a speck of water land on my skin the second before I enter.

I throw around my spear until my arm is drowning in soreness. And then I throw some more. Sweat pours down my face, dripping from my hair, making my outfit all clammy, making my cheeks red. My 5 hours of training go whizzing by. I vaguely remember girls swooning and pointing at me from a distance, my instructor giving me tips on accuracy and shit (not like I need it), and hitting the little human dummies always straight through the head, heart, or stomach. Always somewhere fatal, no matter how far away I was, 20 feet or 175 feet. The straw inside the cloth dummies would burst out like confetti. A whistle blows and all action stops immediately. My arm feels like it's going to fall off, and I wouldn't be shocked if it did. "Alright, it's 10am. Go get all nice and pretty for the Reapings, you sweaty things." Our head instructor, Asher, a man in his early 30s yells. All the weapons go back on the racks, metal clinking against metal, until almost everyone has cleared away, out into the heavily rainy morning, thankful that the crisp rain will wash away their sweat and heat. I pack up my spear and am about to head out when Asher's voice rings in my ear. "Not you, Mr. Marvel Spere. Come over here with Ms. Glimmer Brady." I turn my head and lock eyes with a girl with luscious blonde hair, and fascinating, charming green eyes. She is the mayor's daughter. We both know why we're being called over. Her look of surprise mixed with excitement must mirror how I look. I make a mental note for myself. Calm the shit down, you probably look like a 5 year old in a candy store. Like she does. I wipe my face clear of emotions, keeping control of the bursting happiness inside of me and I walk over to Asher.

"Yeah?" I say nonchalantly, as Glimmer jogs her way over. Her green eyes as big as moons, stating, 'Say it. Just say it already.' Asher looks between both of us, his index finger resting on his chin, taking in every detail of our bodies and he slowly nods his head.

"You two seem fit enough for the job," he hums to himself. "Marvel is extraordinary with the spears," I puff out my chest and let a sly smirk cross my face. "Glimmer is not too shabby with the bows." Glimmer stomps her foot in disagreement and huffs,

"I am better than just SHABBY!" She wails. Asher tsks.

"It's just that temper…" His brows furrow and he's lost in thought again. Glimmer sighs and sashays over to Asher, clicking her tongue once. She puts both her hands on each side of his face and brings him to look at her. Her eyes turn a darker shade of green and she pouts, looking more attractive, if that's even possible.

"Oh come on, Asher," She coos into his ear. "You know you want to let me be in the Games. I can win this. You know it too." Asher stares at her in a trance and begins nodding rapidly.

"Oh, yes, of course, Glimmer, honey. You'll be the winner. It's all so clear now." Asher mutters, his brown eyes lost in her green ones, and Glimmer brings him into a deep, meaningless kiss. I gag at this gesture, my nauseous stomach also isn't helping.

"Sorry to break your little affair here, but can I go now? You guys are like, so pedophiles." I grimace. Asher just brings up his hand and waves me off. I happily oblige and sprint away from the repulsive scene and into the rain. The heat from my body is extinguished and a sigh of relief slips from my mouth. My feet slosh around the puddles that lap around my feet, mud caking my training pants and boots as I jog home at a steady pace.

I trail mud into the house and I feel like a kid again, smiling sheepishly at my mother, who raises her eyebrows at me, but not really caring. She once again buries her nose inside a thick book and calls out to an avox, ordering the short, mute, brunette girl to get a platter of fruit slices for her, and to clean up the mess I made. She gives a curt nod and disappears into the kitchen. I decide it's a smart, obvious move to leave my boots in the living room, and I slip them off, the only thing separating my feet from the frozen floor are my thick wool socks. I skip up the stairs by 2 steps each time. The door to my bedroom automatically slides to the left, letting me in without the hassle of turning a knob. I clap twice and the blazing lights greet me happily. I gingerly place the spear back into place and lay out my nicest outfit for the Reaping. Next on the list is to take a hot shower, then maybe get an umbrella… wouldn't want to ruin my outfit! I dial in the settings for my shower and hop inside. The water soothes my aching arm, also making me smell like soap. I wash my hair, the shampoo falling in front of my face. I scrub all the grime and sweat that the rain didn't wash away and rinse off all the soap from my body. I step out onto a fluffy mat and click the body dry and hair styling function. Now, there's not one wet spot on my body, and my hair looks like it did before it got jumbled from the sweat and rain. Attentively, I slip on my clothes, making sure I don't place them on backwards. They feel like satin against my skin, and are as light as a feather. I clap once and turn on my heel, down the hallway. I tread down the stairway and find my mom and dad waiting for me, glancing down at their watches, tapping their feet. "Are we walking to the Square today?" I question.

"No, actually. It's a surprise." My mom says, a smile itching to make an appearance on her face. My dad already stands there, smiling. "Come, follow us." We walk down a strange, unfamiliar hallway and finally come to a door. It slides open, like every other door in the house, and the sight just shocks me and excites me at the same time. It's a very, very large garage and inside of the garage, sits three shining, divine, grand (I can go on forever) sports cars that look perfectly new. They all have the same design but have different colors. My jaw drops to the floor, knowing how much cars cost, especially three! Even for us, it's just too much. "One person from the Capitol supplied us with three cars and three cards that will get us free gas to fuel them, for, well, forever!" My mom said with smiles and giddiness evident in her voice. "The black one is your dad's, the white one mine, and the red one is… well, yours!" I feel like fainting now. "The top of the cars can be rolled in, just in case you need some air, or if you want to want to look cool for your 'lady friends.' Not that you need help anyways. It'll be your gift for when you win the Games! " My mom mocks jokingly at the 'lady friends' part.

"Which one are we taking?" My lip quivers and I look at my mom for an answer.

"Yours!" She claps. "Your dad will be driving though. You don't even know the basic rules yet."

We pile into the car and the soft purr of the engine starts. My stomach is twisted into knots and we lurch backwards, exiting the garage. We zoom past many people walking in the rain, getting their clothes soaked. The soft pitter patter of the rain can be heard from inside, hitting the top of the car. I take fascination in all the movements of outside whizzing past, the large shower of water we make when we drive through a large puddle. The car stops in front of the Square and a now evident heavy silence claims the air in the car. "Well… Marvel. It's time for you to go, isn't it?" My dad whispers.

"Yeah, dad. I promise I'll be back though!" I smile, my eyes full of tears. "I love you. Mom, dad." They in reply hand me an umbrella and wave me on, dabbing their eyes with tissues. I open the umbrella, safe from the icy sheets of rain and walk over to the 17 section. There, a group of my friends and their friends crowd around me.

"Dude, I heard you're going to the Games this year!" I catch, but the rest of the conversation is mingled into one big blob of words that are foreign to me.

"Hello District One! I am Cynthia Ashford, your District escort! Are you all ready and excited for the 74th HUNGER GAMES?" She squeaks into the microphone. Shouts from every corner of the audience scream 'yes' or 'no'. She clears her throat at the nos. "Let's have a round of applause for Mayor Brady!" She awkwardly claps and some people join in with her. No one really likes Mayor Brady, he's a snooty short, ancient man that thinks his children are the best in District 1. He repeats the same boring speech Panem always hears every year, for 74 years, in a monotone voice. He sounds like he doesn't want to be here, either. Cynthia's voice brings me back from my thoughts. "Ladies first!" She bounces over to the glass sphere and digs her hand into the ocean of slips. "Amelia E-" She starts.

"I VOLUNTEER!" I swear, the voice came from directly behind me, and it did. I turn around, my mouth open, ready to scold, but I see it's Glimmer, with a sly grin on her face. She saunters onto the stage in her short green dress, waving and blowing kisses and the cameras and the men in the audience. I snort. Such an attention whore. Her dad pulls her from the stage.

"No, no, no. She didn't mean that. Amelia. Amelia! Get up here, NOW." Brady hisses into the microphone.

"NO, DAD! I'm going. And you can't stop me now." Glimmer pushes her own dad away and continues her little act.

"My, my! I see we have quite a beautiful lady representing out District this year! Let's just hope she's as dangerous as she is pretty!" Cynthia says. Glimmer's eyes have a fiery rage behind them now, though it's hard to see behind that sneaky smile. "Next, let's see who our male tribute is! Isn't this so exciting?" My heart starts beating rapidly, and I feel short on breath. Everything is so slow now. Her hands dives into the mountain of slips and she pulls one out and undoes the little ribbon keeping it together. "Marvel Spere!" Her voice echoes throughout the Square. I can already hear the other vicious male competitors screaming, "I volunteer! I volunteer!"


Hai. So, you likey? :D Feel free to R&R and check out my other story Marvelous. :3