(A/N – I do not own the characters orThe Hunger Gamesin any way, all rights are reserved toSuzanne Collins.)

The Reaping

Katniss' P.O.V.

It has been a year since my turn in the Capitol's game. I knew when I stepped off the train back in District 12 that my life was no longer going to be the same. I had denied the Capitol one victor. I had done the impossible. I had fought back. I had done things my way.

Of course, I was never going to go unpunished, and surely enough President Snow made sure enough to remind me I was still the pawn in his bigger game plan. But I will refuse him until the very end. I will keep my family safe, and I will defeat him.

"Katniss," Prim drills from behind me, making me start.

I turn around, a small smile on my lips. "Prim," I greet, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and out of her eyes. "Are you all ready my little duck?" A blush stains my little sister's cheeks and a giggle emits from her chest, albeit tightly, as she nods.

I pull her into me and stroke her hair, feeling her body in my arms. Just last week she has turned thirteen, and if I had lost the games last year, her name would have been placed in that bowl of fate twice. Last year was bad enough. But now, my sister was safe. I was safe. My family were safe.

If it were only the same for, Gale. His family weren't safe. Rory was the same age as Prim now, and although Gale was no longer able to be entered in for the Hunger Games, Rory was. Gale had made sure to stop him from taking tessearae. But still, like Prim, the odds may not be in his favour.

I gulp, hard, ignoring Prim's concerned look she shoots at me as our mother calls us outside. Keeping my hand in hers, our neat family walk as calmly as we can to the stage where we face the swallowed faces of our community.

President Snow's face jumps to mind and I visibly shiver although there is no wind. "Look howwe take your childrenand sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do."

There are seven seats this year. Three, of course, for Madge's father, Haymitch Abernathy and Effie Trinket, and another four more for myself, Prim, my mother and Peeta.

I knew his father didn't want the attention, and his mother was far too concerned about herself than anything else; so yes, it was just Peeta.

The clock in the town square hits two and the Mayor automatically rises, the dull, pained look present in his eyes like it was last year. The year the girl who sold him the strawberries volunteered as tribute.

He begins the usual ritual no-one listens to; regurgitating the history of Panem, my concentration flitters to the bird that suddenly takes wing from the top of the Justice Building. It's a Mockingjay, well, a Mockingjay to everyone else but me. For Rue is who I can see, and suddenly, I'm gasping much needed air as my lungs fail me and memories come rushing painfully back. Rue's four-note tune lingers in the sudden silence, and I wonder just how it has picked it up? Was it previously living in District 11?

But my ramblings are disrupted as Madge's father continues onto the dark days and how The Capitol had crushed the districts' rebellion. He continues on to why we have the Hunger Games, and how two tributes from every district have to participate to remind us that The Capitol is still in charge of us.

And then after Madge's father finishes, Effie Trinket takes the stage. Her wig is blue this year. The smiles she wears on her lips year after year still not failing her. Of course, since last year, Effie had gained a little more belief in the tributes of District 12. However, this year could cause her to doubt us again.

After all, it is the Quarter Quell this year – the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games.

Like every previous year, she trots up to the podium, her signature quote booming out from the speakers connected to the microphones. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour."

So far so good. That's for Effie Trinket at least. Her wig isn't going haywire and Haymitch's actually sober today. I guess Peeta had something to do with that.

My attitude has changed about her over the last past year. I know that today she isn't itching for a better district. I know now that she's aware there are fighters among us. Prim takes my hand in hers, a slight gasp emitting from her lips as I comfort her best I can.

"Ladies first!" Effie calls as she walks towards the large glass bowl, absent now from my name.

You can hear as the crowd before us draw in a collective breath as Effie smoothes the strip of paper in her fingers. I look down to our linked hands and wait as she reads the name.

But when she does, I am not prepared. It's as if I'm back in my position last year. Someone's purposely punched me in the chest and I'm falling. My muscles have gone slack and my breath comes in short quick pants.

"Primrose Everdeen?" Effie Trinket's voice falters and she looks over her shoulder, confusion evident in both her tone and eyes.

Prim gets up but I pull her down again, determined there has been a mistake. I demand the strip of white parchment, hoping desperately that I am right. That it was just a misspelt name. But I am wrong, and now Prim's rising from her seat to take her place next to Effie as she stands dumfounded upon the wooden stage.

A voice peeks almost too loudly from the crowd, screaming to be listened to. "I volunteer!" It shrieks as I try to find the voice's owner. "I volunteer as tribute."

And now, I find it. But it isn't a stranger. It's someone I know. It's Madge.

I chased Prim across the stage when she got up, but now as I stand I can feel my legs faltering. A familiar pair of hands catches me and I turn to be confronted with Peeta.

"I've got you," he whispers as I continue to stare out into the audience. Madge is ferociously pushing on - through shocked groups of spectators - towards the stage. As she does, she catches my eye, and I can see the determination in her own wide blue eyes.

Madge's father pushed past me, a strangled cry leaving his throat. "No, Madge, no!"

And then I catch Gale's eye, the eye of a boy who has been so against people like Madge for a very long time. And he's not moving, just staring. I know what he's seeing is changing him. I can see it on his face and I know he realises he was wrong about Madge.

However, that doesn't stop her from mounting the stage.

"Madge!" I call, my loyalties split in two. "Prim!" I finish, standing between my two sisters.

I can see peacekeepers in the distance steadily marching towards the stage as Effie clears her throat.

"The rules have changed," she says. "There aren't to be any volunteers."

I realise then, that President Snow has forced me to comply. There is no way I can get around him. No way I can defeat him. Prim is like a daughter to me and now he's played his last but most powerful card. I am defeated. The Mockingjay is dying, along with the rebellion.

My Mother stands behind us, her face emotionless. She looks hauntingly like she did the day father died.

"They can't change the rules!" I splutter.

"I'm afraid they can," Peeta spits into my ear. "And what makes it worse, Katniss," he continues, "is that they enjoy doing so."

My body begins shaking, not with grief, but overwhelming anger. I suddenly wish I had brought my bow and arrow with me, brought them with me so that I could've shot the peacemakers and run away with Prim.

The peacekeepers take their place on stage and separate both Prim and I, their bodies a white barrier between us.

"And our boy tribute," Effie continues the best she can, "is..." She pauses and I find Gale again. He's thinking the same thing I am. This was planned, and now I am to be punished even further.

"Rory Hawthorne!"

"Damn it!" I hiss as my hands become fists at my side. Gale's face contorts in what can only be described as anger, and I know I'm reflecting the same expression.

Gale wouldn't even be able to volunteer in his place, whether he was eligible or not. No volunteers were allowed.

I was doing everything right. I was playing along, wasn't I? What else does President Snow need from me? Peeta and I were to get married. I was already choosing wedding dresses with Cinna. What else could I do to convince him?

Haymitch sees my distress in my brown eyes and places a hand on my shoulder. His words, however, are not intended for comfort, but for action. "He's not convinced, sweetheart."

I shake his hand off my shoulder and scowl in disgust.

This isn't over by a long shot. No, this fight has only just got started.

A/N – My first ever multi-chapter Hunger Games story! I am so excited for the upcoming movie that I need to just get this out of my system.

Anyways, I'd love to hear what you think so far, so Please Review!

Thanks, Katie1995 :)