Chapter One: Princess

Quinn rose on the morning of the Reaping to the sounds of her family running around downstairs. She could already picture her mother and her sister dashing about like headless chickens, preparing everything for their darling girlcoming downstairs on one of the most important mornings of her life. As she got up and opened her curtains, she could hear them cooking her meal and bickering about how much bacon she should be allowed on her big day.

She despised them both.

Quinn, in all honesty, hated quite a lot of things about her life. But she was glad to say that in a few shorts weeks it would either be over, or she would have the opportunity to never speak to anyone again. Neither option thrilled her to any extent, but she had assured herself that they would both be favourable to staying where she was, and at least she was being forced into this so there was little else she could do. Other than the obvious, which was to simply not volunteer. But, even though she hated everyone she had come into contact with to date and resented them all for picking her to be their shining star Tribute, she had indeed put a good fifteen years of work in to getting to this day, and she certainly wasn't going to discount that effort to spite her District. She didn't think anyone could be that bad. She pulled her robe on and grabbed her hairbrush as she contemplated her options. She prepared herself for being pampered and made to look perfect so she could make a wonderful impression on people who she would never meet, and would probably watch her die, all while she re-affirmed that there was little else she could do. She sighed and exited her bedroom, fearing the worst from her mother.

Now sitting at her dining table with a plate of bacon and fruit with a glass of milk, Quinn was eating her breakfast carefully as her sister brushed her hair for her and her mother sat at the other end of the table with a cup of coffee, reeling off things that Quinn just had to remember.

"Remember, smile. Be confident, and don't be afraid to use your appearance as a weapon."

"Mum, I know." Quinn interrupted, inadvertently noticing how badly her mother's hands were shaking. "Believe me, I know everything you have to say." She said. Her mother sighed and nodded.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry Quinnie. I'm just nervous." Quinn, feeling her sister finish braiding her hair, got to her feet and gave her mother a practiced smile.

"Don't be nervous for me. You should be more worried about Jesse." And with that she retreated back to her room to put on her dress for the Reaping. It was light blue and made to match that of the other Tribute from District 1. She, and her inevitable partner, had been hand chosen at the age of three to be the District's representatives fifteen years later. The pair were now eighteen and thus ready to volunteer to compete in the Hunger Games. Since they had been picked, both of the children had been groomed, trained, drilled and worked until they were perfect. At the age of twelve both had been assigned personalities to assimilate, picked to be the most efficient form of their previous ones. Quinn never really had that many friends to begin with, so it was easy for her trainers and coaches to decide how to fit her into a specific mould. She was going for cold and unfeeling, her natural beauty being used to grab the attention of any and all people she came across. It was true that Quinn was staggeringly beautiful, she doubted there was anyone who would disagree with this fact, but that didn't mean she liked it when people judged her on her appearance, just because she didn't have a full personality.

Well, really, she couldn't blame them for that, either.

The idea was that she remained cold and uncaring and untouchable until she was provoked. She would be perfect and charming and sweet and maybe even nice, until someone made a wrong step or said the wrong thing. Then she would use her extensive knowledge of fighting to cut her opponent down to size. Literally.

Jesse St. James, on the other hand, was actually privileged with emotion. He got to have that 'boy next door' feel to him, or something. He was almost the reverse of Quinn, personality-wise. He had humour and a genuine smile, and bright eyes until someone pissed him off, and then he would become a machine that would simply crush everything in his path. Naturally Quinn knew all of his triggers and all of the little tricks that could make him calm down. He only lived two houses down the road from her, so when she stepped out onto the street in her light blue dress, he was already there in his suit waiting for her. He smiled at her, so she smiled back as they linked arms. The two were as close to friends as Quinn had ever been, and she wasn't afraid to take advantage of him because of it.

"So, today's the big day." He said.

"That it is. Tell me, Jesse, how does it feel to know the day we've spent our whole lives working towards is finally here?" she asked. He chuckled at her.

"Why don't you tell me?" He answered, taking his arm from hers as they got ready to be registered and sorted into the crowd. As the peacekeeper registered him, he looked back and nodded at Quinn.

"See you up there." He grinned. She rolled her eyes and held her hand out to the peacekeeper, barely noticing him pricking her finger. She flowed into the crowd and stood among the other eighteen year old girls. A lot of them smiled at her as she walked past, a few even patted her on the back. She smiled at a couple of them gratefully, while internally cursing each and every one of them. She stopped towards the front of the group, and watched the stage dutifully. The representative walked out onto the stage and up to the podium. She played the video, announced that she was going to pull the names out, and then reached into the ball of names to pull out the female Tribute's name. Quinn didn't pay any attention to name called out once she was sure it wasn't hers, so she relaxed slightly, having passed the first hurdle. She could feel a small pit of cold anxiety in the bottom of her stomach but she kept calm on the outside. It was simple. All she had to do was step forward and say the words. She looked over at the boys and noticed Jesse standing there, his lips moving slightly. She smirked at his nervous habit and looked back at the stage. She rehearsed the plan in her head. Jesse was going to volunteer as soon as he was allowed, and Quinn had to wait until the very last second before she did.

No pressure.

And sure enough, barely halfway through asking for volunteers the representative was interrupted by Jesse stepping forward and volunteering.

"Wonderful! Sir, why don't you come stand up here and we can introduce you after we've made sure there won't be another volunteer!" She waited for him to reach the stairs before she spoke again. "Are there any female volunteers? Any at all?"

"Just a second more," Quinn whispered.

"No…? Well, in that case-"

"I volunteer as Tribute!" Quinn raised her voice, breaking free from the girls. She felt like everything had gone silent around her even though she knew better. The representative beckoned her to the stage and she walked up to the front, perfectly poised and absolutely ready for anything she could be asked.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Quinn Fabray." Soft smile, perfectly practised.

"And you, sir?"

"I'm Jesse St. James." Wide grin, hands in pockets, casual stance. "So, Quinn, tell us, are you nervous at all?"

"No, of course not. Jesse, now, he should be nervous." She pulled a mischievous grin, earning a ripple of laughter through the audience.

"Aw, Quinnie, don't make me look bad so soon!" Jesse answered, making a mock pout. The pair chuckled in rehearsed unison before they shook hands and followed their representative off stage.

Quinn waited in her room for her mother and her sister. Jesse was in the room across the hall, waiting for his family as well. She heard as his parents and his siblings crashed into his room and sighed. Soon enough her door opened and her mother was hugging her tightly, sobbing.

"Mum, what's the matter?"

"I don't want to lose you!" Quinn nearly rolled her eyes.

"I'll be fine. Trust me."

"But, what if-"

"But nothing, mum. Please get off of me." Quinn said. Her mother slowly pulled away and Quinn brushed herself off as she spoke.

"I'm either going to win, or not win. And the chances of me winning are so much greater than everyone else's. It doesn't matter whether or not my chances of winning are bigger than my chances are of losing. The odds are, quite literally, in my favour." She bit her lip, wondering how much sense that sentence actually made as her mother stopped crying.

"The point is, you really don't have anything to cry about." She said. "I certainly won't miss you." She added, inside her head. There was a knock at her door and her mother put and necklace into Quinn's hands.

"Keep it safe."

Everything was quite boring to Quinn after that. She got on the train, and she was introduced to her mentor, Sue Sylvester. Sue was everything that she had been promised. Experienced, sour and rude. She had gotten changed into something a bit more comfortable, though still quite formal, and had returned to the main carriage to watch the other District's Reapings. Which obviously opened with her own Reaping.

"Okay punks, this is it. Your chance to see how badly you did in that sorry performance and how much better than you your competitors are." Sue said. Quinn actually thought that she did quite well, all things considered. But she couldn't help but speculate as to what the other Tributes were thinking about as they were pulled or volunteered. She blinked, as these thoughts crossed her mind. She was curious, for the first time in her life, about someone that wasn't herself. As the couple from District 3 nodded at each other knowingly, the boy from District 4 volunteered for his little brother, the pair from District 5 hugged instead of shaking hands… She blinked again and was suddenly filled with an unfamiliar emotion. Was she… Afraid? No, she couldn't be. She had nothing to fear.

"Except for this unexpected emotion that can only be described as caring." She thought. Jesse's hand on her knee drew her out of her reverie.

"You okay, Q?" he asked. She looked at him and nodded, giving a thin lipped smile.

"Never better."


Santana kept her head up as she walked through the forest, trying not to gain anyone's attention. All of the workers there knew her, of course, but they were meant to be working and she was meant to be at school. So she passed through the trees with no interruption, knowing the pattern of the roots below her feet better than the back of her hand. She was so engrossed in getting to her destination that she nearly screamed when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her into the air. When her feet hit the ground again she turned around and punched the assailant in the shoulder.

"Dammit Puck! You're lucky I realised it was you or I would've gone-"

"All crazy, I know. You should really calm down, you know while I'm in these woods you aren't gonna get hurt. The Puckster can't have his best bro in danger."

"Please, don't go out of your way to make your mohawked maw any bigger. I can take care of myself, you know."

"Oh, I know you can handle yourself Lopez, I'm more concerned about my rep." Puck countered. The pair took a moment to glower at each other before they continued their banter. "Anyway, is it already time for me to pack up?"

"I have some errands to do before I get ready. I figured you could get off early today and keep me from dying of boredom." Santana said, folding her arms. Puck nodded.

"Well, my stuff's a bit further up but seeing as today is my last ever Reaping I'm sure it won't matter that I'm going early." Puck muttered, starting towards where he gestured. The pair got to where his stuff was scattered on the ground, and Puck picked all his stuff up as he asked what they needed to do.

"My abuela told me to go get some vegetables so that she could cook for my parents." Santana said, folding her arms across her chest. Puck straightened and cocked his head.

"Her words or yours?" He asked. Santana punched his shoulder again.

"Hey, ow! What was that for?" He exclaimed, already following her back out of the woods.

"You know why, Puckerman."

"God, Santana, will it ever not be too soon?"

"Just don't fall behind, I can't be caught in public without my man." Santana hissed. Puck sighed and rolled his eyes before he kept following her dutifully.

When they were done shopping they went back to Puck's house, which is where Santana's clothes for the Reaping were waiting for her, along with Puck's suit. Her dress was red, with a black hem. Puck was wearing white pants with a white button up shirt, and they carried their clothes with them when they went back to the Lopez household. Santana opened the back door carefully and set the bag of food in the doorway that led to the kitchen.

"Maybe we can just-"

"Mija!" A voice interrupted Santana and she cursed under her breath.

"Yes, mami?" she answered. Her mother rushed through the kitchen to her daughter and enveloped her in a hug.

"I'll be watching from the sides, mija." She said. Santana hugged her back briefly before she moved onto Puck.

"Keep my daughter safe, Noah."

"I promise, Mrs Lopez." Puck answered, putting his arm around Santana's shoulders.

"Well, don't get changed out there. San's abuela is asleep. Get changed quickly." She ushered them into the house and they quietly made their way to Santana's bedroom to get changed.

"Three years ago we would've been having-" Puck got cut off by Santana throwing her shoe at his back.

"Puck, please, don't remind me." She blanched. He laughed and pouted, rubbing his back as he faced her and pulled his shirt on. "Now help me with the zip." She said, lifting her hair up and facing away from him. He did as he was told and zipped her dress up.

"Ready to go?" He asked, opening her bedroom door.

"Let's crash this party." Santana replied.

The pair split off once they got to the Reaping, Puck standing with the eighteen year old boys, Santana with the seventeen year old girls. Neither teen payed any attention as their representative strode out and spoke, not until the names were being reaped, even. They'd been signalling to each other across the arena until the very last second. Santana, thankfully, wasn't reaped. But they both froze when the boy's name was called.

"Noah Puckerman." It rang through the stadium and even as his arms dropped Puck found himself alone in the crowd. He pulled his gaze away from Santana and to the stage, before he finally started moving towards the stairs. Santana watched him stand before all Panem, his jaw tight and his chin up. She knew that meant he was trying not to cry, while also looking tough and strong. Santana kept watching as the representative asked for volunteers.

"Oh, fuck it." She thought. "If Puck's going to die, I may as well die next to him."

"I volunteer as tribute!" Santana shouted. She barged through the crowd- most of which gave her a wide girth anyway- and stormed up the steps.

"And what's your name?" the representative held the microphone in front of her face. She resisted the urge to tear it out of his hand and answered.

"I'm Santana Lopez, I'm seventeen." She snapped, coldly.

"Well, I just need you two to shake hands like good kids and then-"

"We know." Puck barked. They shook each other's hands and followed the representative off the stage.

"What the hell are you thinking!?" Puck hissed. Santana elbowed him.

"I was thinking that my life is bad enough already and cut my losses! You're my only friend, Puck, no one was going to take your place! What else was I going to do?"

"Excuse you, but I promised Mrs Lopez that I'd keep you safe! Volunteering wasn't on that agenda!"

"Why can't you keep the promise anyway?" Santana demanded. Puck grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

"Because, San, only one of us can survive, if we do at all! At least you were safe with your family! My folks would've been glad to take you in if things got too rough, god! Don't you ever think?" Before Santana could reply, they were forced into separate rooms to wait for their family or friends to come talk to them, if they so chose. Santana stood and waited, picking at her nails, hoping that her parents would come. She wouldn't admit it, but she really hoped they would show up. When she was taken back out of the room and ushered into a car, she sighed, acknowledging that she hadn't expected them to come, anyway.

Puck didn't speak until they got to the train.

"Did they come?" he asked, sheepishly. Santana shook her head in response.

"Of course they didn't, Puckerman. And that's exactly why it wouldn't have been worth it for me to not volunteer."

"Geez, who took a shit on your days?" A voice travelled over to them. They pulled an identical frown as they looked over to where the voice came from to see a woman standing just inside the train with her hands on her hips.

"Well, in case you missed the show, we're going to die." Santana retorted. "Basically." She spat.

"Are you our mentor?" Puck asked.

"I am. Holly Holiday's the name; you're probably a bit young to remember my Games. You would've been seven or eight at the time." She paused. "We've got some time before the replay starts so you can either get out of those monkey suits or talk to me a bit about strategy." Puck and Santana looked at each other for a moment.

"Look, I don't know about San, but I need to get out of this monstrosity. Catch you later." He walked to a door on the other end of the train car and shut it behind him.

"What about you, sweet cheeks?" Holly asked. Santana shrugged as she took her shoes off.

"Let me take these heels off and I'll be fine."

"So you're obviously friends with Noah." Holly started.

"Oh god, please don't call him that. He's Puck, to everyone. And yeah, we're pretty close."

"Is that why you volunteered?"

"That and my home-life is shit anyway. Figured it couldn't be too bad."

"Must be pretty awful at home."

"It will be, without Noah." Santana mumbled. Holly nodded for a moment before she kept going.

"Alright, let's cut to the chase. Answer me honestly, do you think you can win?"

"I, uh…" Santana trailed off as she thought about it. She knew how to fight, how to hold her own. She knew how to piss people off, she wasn't afraid of confrontation. "Yeah." She finally finished. Holly arched an eyebrow at her.

"Are you sure about that, sweet cheeks?"

"Would you stop calling me that? And yeah, I am. I mean, I haven't seen the competition yet but I could do it."

"What about Puck?" Holly said. That threw Santana off a bit. She looked over her shoulder at the door Puck had exited through and swallowed.

"I couldn't kill him, but I'd be able to push through if he died."

"Would he kill you?"

"No." Santana said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"How can you be sure?" Holly said. Santana was adamant though.

"I'm sorry, do you want me to paraphrase the last twelve years of my life for you or do you want to take my word for it?" Santana snapped. Holly nodded and smiled.

"Alright, alright. I get it. Anyway, you take a seat; I'll go grab Puck. The show's about to start." Santana settled on the couch Holly had gestured towards and waited for her to return with Puck.