So after my failure with AU fics, I've decided to try another AU. I have this whole story planned out as opposed to just going with the flow as I usually do, so hopefully this one will work out a little better. It's rated 'T' for now but will be changed accordingly if need /The new season of Game of Thrones starts soon and I'm currently reading A Song of Ice and Fire so I thought…why not try throwing the world of The Hunger Games into that too. Obviously, this is going to be a Hayffie-centric story too. So yay. Here we go :) Any feedback, good or bad, it completely welcome. Think of this as a 'pilot' chapter, so I wanna know what you all think :)

The clang of steel on steel in the courtyard was loud enough as it was, but the volume of it seemed to increase tenfold as it reverberated off the stone walls of Haymitch's /The man hated it. Certain rooms within the castle had carpeted walls, intending to absorb the sound noise but, naturally, Haymitch wasn't ranked high enough. He was just a mere Champion.

The process of selecting a Champion was a somewhat controversial one, a process which people didn't dare question. Coriolanus, the self-proclaimed ruler of the country of Panem, was a man who enjoyed brutal methods of entertainment, as did many residents living in the province surrounding the castle.
Every summer was the height of entertainment and people tended to travel from far and wide for the main event- the Game of Champions. It was a grand affair, in which two residents from each of the 12 regions in Panem were selected to take part. These residents automatically became eligible at the age of 12 and then regained their immunity when they reached the age of 18. These residents became known as 'tributes' and were pitted against each other in a serious of tasks, until only one remained. The 'Champion' was given the great honour of residence in Coriolanus' castle, living a life of apparent luxury and mentoring the tributes every any given time, there were twelve of these champions living within the castle, each Champion being replaced by the next for each region. Since Haymitch won his Game at the age of 16, no one from the Twelfth Region had won. And now, at the age of 35, he'd been in that castle now for almost 20 years.

As he lay there in his bed, the heavy woollen blanket draped over the lower half of his body, he knew he'd overslept. The sounds outside told him that. Training always commenced at 9am sharp, whether Games season was in or not. Coriolanus liked his Champions to keep in shape, although he often deemed Haymitch to be a lost cause.
Haymitch was strong and able to anticipate peoples' next moves better than most, but after seeing 19 years' worth of the tributes he'd mentored die, he'd succumbed to alcohol. And thankfully, the alcohol seemed to be on tap here.
Despite the fact the alcohol seemed to numb some of the memories from his mind, it had caused him to put weight on and caused tremors in his limbs, making it almost impossible for him to efficiently train like he was required to. His hands often shook so much, he couldn't even hold a sword.

As he got out of bed and poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle on the dresser, he couldn't help but notice that something was amiss.

Of course…his escort hadn't turned up.

Each Champion was assigned someone to assist them, getting them ready, making sure they were at any training or tournaments on time. They were called 'escorts' but Haymitch had heard the term 'slave' tossed around far too many times. That's what they were, really. If they were from the province around the castle where they were immune to being chosen for the Games and Coriolanus deemed them desirable, they were chosen as escort.
Most champions only had one of two escorts in their whole life. Haymitch, however, was onto his seventh.
The alcohol, as well as making Haymitch's physical health deteriorate, also made him aggressive and volatile. Haymitch tended to scare people off, particularly in one of his drunken rages. That was why his escorts came and went. Coriolanus liked to pretend he cared, so he ensured his escorts were taken away from any dangers which could arise.
As Haymitch got himself ready, he couldn't help but think that his latest escort had been removed too./p

xXx

The sword was heavy in it's scabbard slung across his shoulder, so he hitched the leather strap up a little higher as he walked. The long stone corridors were somewhat cool at the moment, the seasons fast changing from spring to summer. He hated training at this time of year. One would wrap up warm initially but be sweltering by the end of the session. But still, they needed to train. The Game would be starting in a few weeks and the Champions were expected to be of optimum strength and fitness, to set examples for their new tributes.

"Haymitch," a voice called out, making Haymitch lazily turn around.
"Chaff," he nodded in the man's direction. "You're up early."
"No, you're just up late," Chaff grinned, catching up to Haymitch so they could walk to the courtyard together.
Chaff had been crowned a Champion three years after Haymitch and the pair had become fast friends. Well, not 'friends'. Haymitch wasn't entirely sure if their relationship extended beyond a mutual understanding of one another. Haymitch never liked to class himself as having friends, especially not in a world where one could lose people so easily. But at least Chaff was someone for him to talk to.
"So," the man continued. "What's on your schedule today?"
Haymitch shrugged, pausing to think for a moment.
"Monday…" he said to himself. "Swordfighting until twelve, then archery at one."
"Ah, that reminds me!" Chaff said suddenly. "Coriolanus has requested your attendance to a meeting after your morning session."/p
It wasn't a new thing. Haymitch felt as if he spent the majority of his time in that man's office for one reason or another. His behaviour had put him under 'special watch', to make sure he didn't stray any further off the rails than he already had.
"Sure," Haymitch nodded, patting Chaff's shoulder before heading off in the direction of the training area."

xXx

The training that morning was gruelling, the sun being surprisingly hot despite the fact the air was cold. By the time Haymitch had deposited his training gear in his chambers and made his way to Coriolanus' quarters, his muscles were aching.
"What's your business here?" One of the guards said when Haymitch arrived.
"Haymitch Abernathy," Haymitch responded. "Here for a meeting. I was told to be here for twelve and for once, I don't think I'm late."
"The guard studied him for a moment before leading him inside, where Coriolanus was sitting behind a large oak desk.
"Mr. Abernathy," the man said. "Do have a seat, although I don't plan to keep you that long."
"Haymitch watched him carefully but lowered himself into a chair opposite him, not saying a word. Coriolanus, however, continued regardless.
"Mr. Abernathy, I'm certain you noticed that dear Myrcella was not around to wake you this morning, did you not?"
"Yes," Haymitch said. "I'm assuming she's gone?"
"I felt it necessary to remove her after your drunken outbursts last night, yes," Coriolanus explained, leaning forward slightly and placing his hands on the desk. "You threatened her."
"I don't remember that," Haymitch answered, but then again, he'd been drunk out of his mind last night.
"Yes well, the past is the past, and we can do nothing but move forward," Coriolanus continued. "And to move forward, we have found you a new escort."
"There's a surprise," Haymitch muttered under his breath, causing Coriolanus to narrow his eyes.
"Now, she is not a lot younger than you are," Coriolanus said airily, gesturing to the guard beside the door, who promptly headed out. "Our hope is that, because of her age and maturity, she isn't going to be intimidated by your behaviour."
Just then, the guard returned, a pretty blonde woman in a flowing peach robe by his side.

"Mr. Abernathy," the girl said, the most delicate of accents audible in her words. "My name is Euphemia."