I wrote this story with a clear thought in mind: what would have happened if Peeta had never been in love with Katniss? Naturally, that story then spiraled out of control and I ended up with 26 chapters about that story.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters from The Hunger Games Trilogy belong to Suzanne Collins
Every morning, Peeta woke up at dawn and this morning was no different. He pushed himself up from the lumpy mattress made of straw which his parents had spent weeks working overtime for three years ago when he was thirteen and had grown too tall for the child's mattress that he had been using at the time.
His blanket was thin and marred with holes that had accumulated as it was passed down from brother to brother. He was the third Mellark boy to have it of this generation; he was sure that his father and his brothers had once used it as well.
Barley and Rye, his brothers, were asleep in their beds, snoring away. Peeta was the youngest, of course, so he was the one who had to get ready to open the shop.
When his bare feet hit the rickety wooden, Peeta grimaced at the slight creak. It wasn't too loud, but the walls between rooms were awfully thin, and it wouldn't be the first time he had accidentally woken his mother. It was an experience he desperately hoped he could avoid.
Tiptoeing across the wooden floor, he squeezed between his brothers' beds and to the wardrobe which housed their clothes. Gently, he pulled it open and picked up the old white t-shirt and torn jeans that he wore when opening the store.
Peeta put on his clothes as quickly and quietly as he could, closing the wardrobe and slipping on a pair of thin, hole-filled socks and inching his way toward the door of his room. He opened it, barely—opening it all the way would make an awful squeak which would certainly wake his parents up—and slipped down the hallway to the living room.
The cramped, tiny room had only enough room for the whole family to sit if Peeta's father and brothers crammed onto the sofa while his mother took the armchair. Peeta, as the youngest, was made to sit on the floor for mandatory viewing.
At the top of the steps, Peeta sat down and slipped on his worn boots. He struggled to pull them on without his knees hitting the walls, but he managed it. Carefully, he walked down the stairs and began work in the bakery.
The Mellarks had been bakers since before the Dark Days, according to Peeta's father. They had owned and operated the same shop for seventy-one years. Ever since the building was rebuilt after being burned down in the rebellion. It was a proud and illustrious legacy.
One Peeta was unlikely to be a part of for much longer.
It was a sad fact of Panem's District 12: everyone was dirt poor. Sure, the Seam—the coal miners who operated in the district's primary industry—liked to call the merchants wealthy, but that was simply not the case.
Merchants only made slightly more money than the coal miners once the tithes to the Capitol were paid for. Peeta's family owned a bakery, yet he had never had fresh bread. His family simply couldn't afford to waste their merchandise.
Everything he ate had been sitting on the shelves for three days and wouldn't sell. Often, they couldn't even eat that because the Capitol demanded their scraps to feed the miners for lunch.
It was better than the alternative, Peeta knew. Stale food was better than no food. He had seen those in the Seam starving and dying on the roadside. He was lucky.
Turning on the oven and kneading the dough for the various loaves his family would be making today was practically instinctive. He did this every morning, and his family rarely got involved before the business opened.
Of course, today wasn't any normal day. Normal days would mean slaving away in the kitchen until dusk. Normal days would mean that his brothers would eventually come join him, so he could get breakfast. Normal days would be preferable to today. Today was the first Saturday of June.
The reaping.
Every year on the first Saturday of June, the Hunger Games began. Or rather, the pre-Hunger Games activities started to commence. At two o'clock, Peeta was expected to be in the town square, just outside the bakery's front door, for the reaping to begin.
A quick glance outside showed that there were workers already setting up the square for the event. The stage in front of the Justice Building had been erected last week, and Capitol workers had been spending the intermittent time preparing for the event.
Peeta pulled out the bread and left it to cool on the counter and moved to double check the cakes that had been pre-ordered for the reaping. Peacekeeper Headquarters—the organizational hub of all the peacekeepers in the district—had ordered a triple layer chocolate cake to commemorate the occasion and another to celebrate the start of the Games proper in a week. Peeta had been working on the frosting of the first cake since yesterday.
It wasn't intricate, but the vanilla frosting was perfectly distributed across the entire surface. He carefully piped silver frosting along the bottom and made the looping design that Head Peacekeeper Cray had suggested. On the top was a pristine "74".
Satisfied with his word, Peeta turned to the second cake he would be making. It was smaller, but that made sense as it was for the Capitol Liaison Office in the Justice Building. Senior Capitol Liaison, Pulcheria Tear, had requested that the cake be made in the shape of Finnick Odair's head.
Finnick Odair was hot, but Peeta couldn't begin to understand why someone would want to eat a cake that looked like him. Was it some weird fetish that Pulcheria was exercising here in 12? Peeta didn't know, but he was an excellent baker, and he got to work.
He only had a single photograph of Finnick, taken during an interview if Caesar Flickerman next to him was any indication, but he was sure to mix the frosting as perfectly as possible. He mapped out the facial features and tried to smooth out the frosting to capture the gorgeous man's face as best he could.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the back door or the bakery, and Peeta thanked the years of training with cakes that he didn't jump and smudge the design.
Carefully, Peeta placed the frosting down and walked over to the door. Opening it, he saw Gale Hawthorne, a boy from the Seam who frequently traded with his family.
"Your father around?" he asked, not bothering with a proper greeting.
Peeta didn't let it bother him as he shook his head. "Still asleep," he said. "What've you got to trade."
"I don't trade with kids," insisted Hawthorne, shaking his head. "You're not allowed to make deals for your parents."
Peeta's gaze cooled as he looked at the slightly older boy. "One," he said, "I'm only, what, a year younger than you. Two, I'm the same age as that girl you come around with. Katniss, right." Hawthorne bristled, and Peeta smiled. "She's in my class. I ask again, what've you got?"
Hawthorne glared, but he held up the fat squirrel that he had caught. "Your father usually gives me two loaves for it."
Peeta chuckled and grabbed one of the fresh loaves that he had just taken out of the oven. Slipping it into a paper bag, he handed it to Hawthorne. "No, he doesn't."
"Two or no deal," insisted Hawthorne, but Peeta shrugged, taking the bread back.
"No deal, then," he replied, moving to close the door.
But Hawthorne's hand shot out to stop the door. "Fine," he said, "One. But only because it's fresh."
"One," Peeta agreed. "But only because that's the regular price."
Peeta took the fat squirrel from Hawthorne and stepped back. "See you, Gale," he said. More seriously, he continued, "And good luck today."
For a moment, Gale stood there, staring at him, eyes narrowed. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "I'll be needing it."
With that, Peeta closed the door and made his way over to the family's cooler in the kitchen and placed the squirrel inside. He would tell his father about it when he woke up. Let him claim to have made the trade.
Returning to his work, Peeta worked for the next three hours perfecting the design, happy that, by nine o'clock, the cake was complete and ready to be boxed. He had put out all the bread and the cookies, croissants, and bagels were all cooking away. A tray of cupcakes had been made the night before, so that would be fine, and everything was complete.
Good. Because at that moment, he heard the stomping of feet on the stairs accompanied by his mother's grumbling morning voice. Peeta tensed and shook his head. Everything was fine and prepared. The shop was ready to be opened at nine thirty like always for the reaping. It was cleaned, he had washed the counter. It was fine.
"Boy!" she called, making him jump as she circled into the room. "Is everything ready?"
Peeta nodded. "Yes, Mother," he replied. "Everything is out and ready to be served, the cakes are decorated and boxed—I put them on the cooling racks—I cleaned the counter and unlocked the door. Everything's ready."
"Good," she nodded, pacing around the kitchen in her faded slippers and thin robe. "The reaping is one of the most profitable days of the year. Everybody's celebrating."
Her hand shot forward and gripped his shirt, pulling him down to her eye level. "If even one thing goes wrong today," she spat, "you'll be without meals for a month."
Peeta nodded frantically, his shoulders shaking as she glared daggers at him. "I know, Mother, it'll go alright."
For a moment, she stared into his eyes, glaring as though looking for the depths of his secret plan to ruin sales. Then, she released him, and he jumped to full height, nodding at her.
"Man the counter until your brother gets down," she declared, stalking out of the kitchen. "Then get ready for the reaping."
Peeta just stood in the kitchen staring at the door his mother just left through. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He didn't need to worry, he told himself. He had done everything properly.
"Charming as always, I see," said a voice from behind him.
Spinning around, Peeta smiled to see his best friend, Garnet, smiling from the back door. He was already dressed for the reaping. His plain white collared shirt was clean and new. The slacks didn't have any holes in them, and the shoes were well-made and only worn for special occasions. Only the best for the Capitol.
"You able to hang out before the reaping?" he asked smiling at Peeta. "Madge invited you, me, and Delly for lunch at around noon. We go there, get some good food in us, then potentially walk to our deaths." He smiled brightly. "Talk about a great day."
Peeta chuckled. "You heard my mother," he said, "I've got to man the shop."
"Get one of your brothers to do it."
"Like they would," he scoffed. Barley and Rye didn't do anything in the back of the shop. All they were good for was manning the register.
"Hey," said Garnet, holding up his hands. "Barley should really get some experience baking at some point. I mean, he's gonna own a bakery at some point, isn't he?"
"Try telling him that."
"You want me to?" offered Garnet, fearless as always.
Peeta shook his head, smiling at his best friend. Garnet was always offering to cause trouble in the bakery if it meant helping Peeta out. He was an only child and the son of the jeweler. He never saw the need to duck for cover.
"I don't want to upset anyone today," confessed Peeta, smiling awkwardly at his friend.
Garnet smiled. "Great!" he chirped. "Then don't upset me and come over to Madge's house to spend time with your friends before the reaping."
Peeta laughed. "What am I supposed to tell my parents?" he asked. "I'm going over to see a bunch of miscreants. You know, that boy you can't stand among them."
"Well, that's what I would say," noted Garnet thoughtfully, brushing stray strands of blonde hair out of his eyes. "But no, you say you're going over to the mayor's house at the request of his beautiful and eligible daughter who is currently set to take her father's place but lacks any notable marriage prospects. Your mother'll be shoving you out the door herself."
That was true. Ever since they were children, Peeta's mother had been trying to pass him off to Madge to get married. Delly, too, but more Madge. Marrying into the mayor's family would be quite the coup for her. They'd probably get a small fortune for the marriage.
If only Peeta had any desire to marry Madge. Or she him. The two of them had never even looked at each other that way. Though, when he came to her, Delly, and Garnet and told them about his prospects after he came of age, that was close to changing.
He knew that he would be forced to live in the Seam and work as a coal miner should he not find someone with a business to marry. Yet, it was only when he was thirteen that his mother informed him that he would be kicked to the curb when he finished his last reaping at eighteen and be made to fend for himself.
His only hope to not become a miner was to find an eligible lady to marry who was set to inherit her own family's business.
Madge and Delly were both set to inherit their families' businesses, the mayor's office and the shoe store respectively. When he told them about his future shunning by his family, both had immediately offered to marry him, so he could stay.
Peeta had been touched, and a part of him wanted to accept their offers. But, much as he appreciated the gesture, he didn't want to marry someone he wasn't in love with. And they both deserved someone that loved them. They were like sisters to him. They deserved the best.
So, he had gently declined their marriage proposals and had been using it as an excuse to get away with things ever since.
"Alright," he said, smiling at his delighted friend as he whooped. "I suppose Madge could use a suitor for the afternoon. And, who knows, maybe she invited her good friend Delly and Delly's startlingly new and utterly gay boyfriend along for the lunch."
"It could happen," agreed Garnet. His crystal blue eyes were alight with mirth as he smiled at Peeta. "And hey, maybe this'll be the time people stop asking me if I'm ever gonna find a girl."
"There are enough chasing after you."
Garnet nodded emphatically. "I know," he said, concerned. "I'm running out of reasons to say no."
"Just say it," said Peeta, putting some of the dough away as his friend pouted. "You don't need to give a reason."
"I do for my parents," retorted Garnet. "They keep setting me up, and I keep turning them down. What do I do?"
Peeta shrugged. "Become ugly?"
Garnet just glared. "Impossible," he replied, gesturing to himself. "Have you met me?"
"I have," Peeta replied, though he agreed that there was no world in which Garnet was ever considered ugly. "Maybe talk to them for an hour or two. They'll figure out how annoying you are and leave you alone."
Amazingly, Garnet seemed to consider it. "It's an option, I suppose," he said.
Suddenly, the steps creaked as someone started walking down. Garnet's eyes widened and hurried out the back door. "See you at Madge's at noon," he said, swinging the door shut before Peeta could reply.
For a moment, Peeta just stared at the door where Garnet had just been, smiling. Then, his father entered the room, and Peeta turned to him.
"Uh," he said. "Gale Hawthorne came by earlier. I traded a squirrel for a loaf of bread."
Grainer Mellark nodded at his son, and Peeta smiled. "Good," he said. "He try to haggle with you?"
"Tried for two loaves, but I didn't budge."
His father shrugged. "I'd have done it for reaping day, but it's fine."
Peeta's face burned at his father's words. Everything was fine. Everything was always fine.
"Also," he said as his father moved to the ovens. "Madge Undersee asked me to come over for lunch. I know I was supposed to man the shop but…"
"Go," his father said resolutely, brushing his hand along toward the door. "Barley can man the shop for the afternoon. Go get the girl."
Peeta just plastered a smile on his face at his father's words. 'Go get the girl' like she was some sort of possession and not one of his best friends. It was always like that. Girls were there for boys to have, and if one dared to think for herself—as Aster Isely did twenty-three years ago and his father was still complaining about it—they had made a silly mistake and was to be brushed off.
"Thanks, Father," he said, untying his apron. "I'm gonna go get ready for the reaping. Gotta look my best for the mayor's daughter."
"Exactly," the man said, nodding.
So, Peeta slid out of the kitchen and up the narrow, rickety stairs to his family's apartment. He wasn't as quiet as in the morning; his brothers were supposed to be awake by now.
"Peeta," huffed Rye as he entered the room. He and Barley were both lying in bed, covering their faces with pillows as he marched into the room. "We're trying to sleep."
"Uh huh," Peeta replied, not caring as he knocked into their beds to grab his reaping clothes from the wardrobe. His middle brother pulled the pillow off his face to glare at Peeta. "That seems like a 'you' problem."
It'll be your problem if you don't get out," growled Barley.
Peeta shrugged. "Sorry," he said, not sorry at all. "Father said that one of you needed to watch the shop this afternoon. I'm off to Madge's."
"Hmph," scoffed Barley, glaring at him drearily. "They still trying to set you up with the mayor's daughter. Please. It'll never happen."
"Maybe so," laughed Peeta as he buttoned up his shirt. "Or maybe it will. They aren't sure, so they'll keep trying. Now, come on. It's nearly ten thirty. You should be up anyway. It's the reaping."
"I'm not in it," snapped Barley, putting the pillow over his head again.
"Suit yourself," shrugged Peeta, walking toward the door in his best clothes. "I'm off."
His mother's door was locked, meaning she was inside preparing for the reaping like she was going to be the one on stage. She did it every year and insisted on dressing to impress the Capitolites that came into town.
Peeta hurried down the stairs and out into the completely changed square. The banners were hung all around the buildings to showcase the seal of Panem from nearly all angles. They were red as blood and painted with the golden seal that seemed reflective in the morning sun.
On the ground, the barriers that would be separating the various children being reaped into their proper age and gender groups were all set out. The sign-in tables were all prepared, and there were ropes to indicate where everyone would be standing.
At the front of the square was a large stage. The Justice Building sat behind it and it was the tallest building by far in the district. Eighteen floors of white marble towered over District 12. Though the marble was marred and permanently stained grey from the vast amounts of coal dust filtering from the mines, it was still impressive. A large banner with the symbol of the Capitol hung down the center of the building. On either side was a massive banner with the golden number "74" on it. This year's Hunger Games.
Peeta shrugged as he started walking through the square, mindful of the dozens of additional peacekeepers running around the area. He skirted around the edges of the square and headed toward the mayor's house.
It was a large building, two stories with wide steps leading up to the front door. It was similar to the Justice Building in that the white marble was stained grey, but it also had a feeling of being lived in.
Inside, Peeta knew that there was a massive ballroom which was used to host the Victory Tour feast every year. The building was large and spacious, and the Mellark Bakery could fit inside it a dozen times over with room to spare.
However, Peeta noted fairly, it wasn't as though the mayor's house was just a job benefit. As previously stated, it hosted feasts in the Capitol's honor. It also acted as his workplace. All his assistants and underlings had offices on the first floor, and they ran the district from here.
Madge often noted to him that she rarely got sleep when quotas were due because her father worked overtime trying to determine how much coal had been mined by the district over the previous month. The lights were always on, and there was noise constantly as a result.
Knocking on the front door Peeta waited a few moments as he looked around the square. It was a shame that the reaping was so terrifying to the district because the Capitol knew how to make it look like a party. Sometimes, such as at the winter festival, the square could be very festive, but it was marred by the coming events.
The door to the Mayor's house opened and their housekeeper, Moira, was standing there. "Peeta," she said, delighted as she moved out of the way. "Madge and Delly are in the sitting room. You know the way. It's lovely to see you."
"You, too, Moira," he said sincerely. The woman had practically raised Madge and, as such, he had seen her quite a bit when he was young.
Peeta left the woman with a smile and moved through Madge's house quickly and easily. He was perfectly aware of where he needed to go. It was the first door on the right, and he entered to see two of his closest friends sitting on the sofa.
Both girls were smiling at him as he entered the room, their eyes crinkled with laughter. Madge, her bright blue eyes dancing as she looked at him, was wearing a cream-colored dress and had her hair perfectly curled. She sat, straight-backed and poised like the mayor's daughter should. On her dress, there was a golden bird pin.
A mockingjay.
Madge told him that it had belonged to her Aunt Maysilee before she was killed in the arena. Her mother had given it to her for her first reaping. Peeta knew that it was one of Madge's most treasured possessions.
Delly sat next to her, her dark blue eyes nearly in tears. She was smiling at something Madge said like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. That was how Delly always acted. Her dress was a dark bronze, and she kept patting it down in fear that it would somehow get wrinkled before the reaping.
"Peeta!" Delly declared, jumping to her feet to grab his hands. She let him to the chair near her, and he sat down. "You have to hear this story Madge's been telling me."
She launched into Madge's story, forgetting that the girl was right next to her and could tell it herself. Peeta shared a look with Madge, and they shook their heads. Delly was Delly.
Apparently, some boy from the Seam named Ulrich Jessup had seen Madge spending some time with Reese Donner last weekend and they made a joke about her going after younger boys. This would have been nothing if he hadn't said it while they were supposed to be working on a project in school. It also wouldn't have been a big deal if he had realized that Reese was Madge's cousin.
Madge, considerate as she was, didn't get offended, but Peeta could see why Delly found the situation amusing. Everyone always fawned over Madge, but she rarely spoke to anyone. Of course, people would be making assumptions about the people she spent time with. He had heard the rumors about how he was secretly dating her.
"So," said Madge, placing a hand on Delly's shoulder to stop her before she began talking again. "Do you know where Garnet is? We don't have much time before the reaping."
"Well since you asked," noted a voice from the doorway.
Garnet was standing there, leaning against the wall like he'd always been there. He was smirking at them but took care to brush his hair out of his face. "I gotta say, Madge," he told her. "I didn't know you were into the whole 'incest' thing, but I'm sure that little Reese'll help you out if you asked."
Ever the proper and dignified lady… Madge threw a pillow at him. Garnet lunged forward and grabbed it, hugging it close to his chest as he sauntered over to them. "Come on, Miss Undersee," he said, winking at her lasciviously, "Did Ulrich have the right idea? You never do date anyone."
"Neither do you," she shot back blithely. "You secretly gunning for your cousin Ivanna."
Of course, because it was Garnet, he had to think about it. "I mean," he said. "She's lovely. Any guy would be lucky to have her, but, she's missing some key traits that I'm looking for in a partner."
"Cock, for instance," suggested Madge, the vulgarity falling from her lips far too naturally for someone so proper.
Garnet nodded. "Exactly."
"But let's be honest here," said Peeta smiling at his friend, "Even if she suddenly grew one, you've got standards to live up too."
"What are these standards of which you speak?" demanded Garnet as Delly and Madge chuckled. "I will have you know that my lovely cousin is lovely in every conceivable way."
"Except to talk too," sassed Madge, who couldn't stand Ivanna Aimes. "You know, except in that small and insignificant way."
Garnet paused. "Well," he said, sighing exaggeratedly as he plopped himself down. "You do make an excellent point, my darling Madge. Were it not for her lacking the necessary appendages and my aversion to incest, Ivanna's truly dreadful personality would be a strong con against our union."
"She's not that bad," protested Delly, who said that whenever their little group started getting catty.
Madge just glared. "Dells," she said. "Last week, she told you to volunteer so your pasty face could get chopped off by a Career. A week before the reaping."
"But don't you think she paid for that when you stuck chewing gum in her hair and Garnet told her boyfriend about how she likes to eat her boogers."
"I never said that wasn't true," insisted Garnet, lounging back as he started eating the sandwich from the table.
"Come on," said Peeta, shoving Garnet's arm. "The week before that you said that I was secretly the spawn of a Capitolite and my father's illicit love affair."
"So?"
"You like to make up stories."
"Peeta," Garnet said, moving to sit up. His crystal blue eyes gazed into Peeta's deeply. "Would I really defame and destroy my own cousin's reputation with anything less than the truth?"
Peeta stared at him. Garnet was so open and honest as he looked sincerely at Peeta, imploring him to understand.
"Yes."
Garnet loosed a delighted laugh and shrugged. "What can I say?" he asked. "Blood only goes so far, and she had it coming."
"That destroyed her reputation," insisted Delly, though she was laughing, too.
The boy shoved his sandwich in his mouth and threw his hands up. "Whatever," he said around the food as he swallowed.
"Madge and her friends," chirped Moira from the door. She was smiling indulgently at them as they sat around, though it grew cooler as she spoke. "You should know, it's only a half hour until the reaping. You need to get signed in right about now."
Just like that, the good mood drained from the room.
"Well, then," said Madge, ever prepared. "We should get going then."
Peeta left the second half of his sandwich on the plate. He would eat it after the reaping. They made their way out of the house and into the vastly more crowded square.
As was standard, the entire district turned out for the reaping. Every child between the ages of twelve and eighteen was on the line to get signed in, and the four friends joined them. All the earlier banter died in the face of possible death.
Peeta waited on the line alongside the other children as they moved through the line. It was only a half hour until the reaping, and the sign-in process was very quick. A prick on the finger and a spot of blood on a paper and they were in.
As such, as the roughly two thousand three hundred children within reaping age—Madge had mentioned it to him last year when the census was taken of District 12—moved up the line, it only took him about fifteen minutes to read one of the fifteen officials signing children in.
"Next," he heard the woman say, and Peeta stepped forward.
He held out his hand for her to take and she quickly pricked it with the device. Peeta grimaced as he felt the sting, but then she let him go and he walked toward the reaping pen.
"Do they get faster every year?" asked Garnet as they made their way to the fifteen-year-old boys' section—both of their birthdays fell after the reaping. "I feel like they get faster."
"You're probably daydreaming the whole way up and don't notice," Peeta joked, getting shoved by his friend.
"Maybe," he said. "But at least I don't have to think about it."
There was that.
Both of them stood around, not really talking as they waited for the reaping to begin. Up on stage, Madge's Father, Mayor Undersee, was talking with the Capitol Escort who would conduct the event, Effie Trinket. They were both looking anxiously toward the two empty chairs next to them.
Finally, one o'clock rolled around, and everyone was settled. The cameras started to roll and the screens around the district burst to life and projected the screen for all to see. Everyone in the district would be witnessing this.
Mayor Undersee rose to his feet and approached the microphone. He took a deep breath and began to speak.
"Welcome, District Twelve to the reaping of the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games," he said. "Panem is a nation built on the prosperity and generosity of the Capitol. We the districts, who have provided our nation with resources since out inception, are protected and loved by our guarantors. The Capitol's armies provide us with protection from the many nations of the world which seek to subjugate and enslave us."
That was the crux of the Capitol's rule over the districts, after all. The Capitol was massive, around three times the side and population than all the districts combined. It was a massive organization dedicated to the prosperity and growth of their military. Over the past three hundred years before the Dark Days, Panem waged war across the world to force the enemy nations which were attempting to invade the districts.
It was why the Capitol ruled the districts. They were the ones who guarded and secured the districts. They were also the ones who could force the districts to comply if they tried to rebel.
"Our benefactors led us peacefully for centuries. During this time, we were a prosperous nation. Each district provided a necessary labor for the betterment of the whole while the Capitol acted as the beating heart which both ensured our success and our security.
"Then came the Dark Days," said the mayor, his voice growing more serious. "We the districts rebelled against the benevolent Capitol which gave us our lives. For fifteen long, dreadful years, we waged war against our benefactors. Millions upon millions died in the struggle. One by one, the districts surrendered. All save one.
"District Thirteen threatened to destroy all that we of Panem could achieve as a unit. They sought to destroy not just the Capitol but the districts who dared to return to the fold. And so, with deep sadness, the Capitol was forced to annihilate District Thirteen entirely for the betterment of all."
Because that's how parents handle naughty children, thought Peeta, his own mother coming to mind. Threats of violence and death were the only way to exert authority.
"Yet we the districts had not been punished for our crimes," declared the Mayor, and Peeta heard a few people throughout the crowd snort. "And so, as a reminder to the districts of the carnage we had wrought on Panem, each district would offer up one male and one female between the ages of twelve and eighteen to be given into the custody of the Capitol.
"These tributes would be placed in a public arena and made to fight to the death until a single, lone victor survived. This victor, bathed in riches, would be a reminder of both the Capitol's mercy and generosity. And this pageant, known forever as the Hunger Games, would be a reminder that we must never allow ourselves to be tempted by war again."
How that made sense, Peeta didn't know. District 12 was impoverished and dying. People died on the streets from hunger every week. Others died in the mines because the working conditions were deplorable. The Hunger Games on top of all that was just a slap in the face.
"And now," said the mayor. "A reading of the past victors. The victor of the Thirty-First Hunger Games, Beena Greene, then aged eighteen. Unfortunately, Ms. Green's heart condition required her to be moved to the Capitol. She was unable to attend these proceedings."
That wasn't new. Beena Greene had missed the last Hunger Games as well. The year before, she had been giving an interview about the dead tribute she had been mentoring when she had gripped her chest and keeled over on screen. Every few months, mandatory viewing would show an interview with her from her hospital bed, but it was clear from the machines she was hooked up too that the woman wasn't able to do much.
"The victor of the Fiftieth Hunger Games, Haymitch Abernathy, then aged eighteen," continued the mayor. He gestured to Haymitch Abernathy, who had come on stage sometime during the speech.
Haymitch Abernathy was a man in his forties who had black hair, tan skin, and grey eyes. He was also disheveled and wearing rumpled clothes as he tried to lean back in his chair against Effie Trinket. She had put her hand up, long nails scraping against his face as she held his drunken face away from her.
Turning back to the mayor, he heard the man say, "Let us begin the reapings."
At that, Effie Trinket shoved herself away from Haymitch, whose arms seemed to flail after her. Peeta chuckled. He glanced at Garnet, and the boy mimicked the arm movement.
Effie and the mayor shook hands as she took the stage. She wore a violet suit and skirt, and her skin was unnaturally pale. Her hair was a powdery pink and she smiled brightly as she walked onto the stage.
"Oh, Happy Hunger Games, District Twelve," she trilled, her voice high and chipper. "And may the odds be ever in your favor. It is my honor and privilege to be here to conduct this illustrious ceremony. And as such, ladies first."
Effie made her way over to the massive class ball with thousands of little slips of paper inside. There was another on the opposite side of the stage filled with the boys' names. Effie turned to smirk at the crowd for a moment before reaching her hand in. She shuffled the papers around for a moment and pulled one free.
Then, she pranced back to the stage, her enormous heels clicking along so that the entire square could hear. With a sultry smirk, Effie unfolded the paper and said clearly into the microphone…
"Primrose Everdeen."
A sense of dread fell over Peeta as he heard that name. He knew that name. He had talked about her sister Katniss to Gale Hawthorne earlier that morning. Peeta had seen her outside the school, walking home with her sister hand in hand.
Primrose Everdeen was only twelve.
The crowd didn't seem happy either as Primrose walked up the steps to the stage. Effie's face seemed to fall for a moment, but she brightened back up as she moved to the stairs to help Prim walk up.
"PRIM!" a voice called from the crowd. "PRIM!"
In the sixteen-year-old girls' section, Katniss Everdeen was frantically pushing her way through the girls, running to the center aisle. Peacekeepers were already racing forward, grabbing their weapons to forcibly stop her if need be. But, before they could, Katniss screamed.
"I volunteer as tribute!"
Stunned silence filled the square at her pronouncement. Peeta stared at her in shock as she stood there, gasping frantically at the stage.
Once a tribute was reaped, any other eligible boy or girl respectively could volunteer to take their place. In districts where the Games are a huge honor such as 1, 2, and 4, this happened all the time.
In District 12? The last volunteer had been when Peeta was very young. The boy who did it was frantic and scared. He hadn't stood a chance, but he had done just what Katniss did. Volunteered for a sibling.
Effie started clapping next to the microphone, trilling "Wonderful, wonderful. Now, come on up."
"Katniss," Primrose screamed, shaking her head. Tears streamed down her face. "Katniss, no! NO!"
But it was too late. Once the words were spoken, it was binding. Primrose ran forward, gripping her sister's waist, but Katniss only hugged her for a moment before pushing her off. They seemed to speak for a second before a sobbing Primrose ran off to the crowd.
"Well, dear, come on up," trilled Effie, her voice echoing around the district. "Come on, dear, don't be shy."
Katniss ascended the steps, her legs wobbling as she did. Effie grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the microphone. "So, dear, what's your name."
Shaking, but not crying, she replied, "Katniss Everdeen."
"Ooh," cooed Effie. "I bet my hat that was your sister. Didn't want her to steal all the glory? Well, alright them. Let's everyone give a big round of applause for Katniss Everdeen: your female tribute!"
Peeta stood there, standing next to Garnet, and they just looked up at the girl. He couldn't imagine the amount of love it would take to do what she did. To choose to enter that hell.
No one was clapping. Rather, people were pressing the middle three fingers of their left hand to their lips and presenting them to Katniss. It was an old sign. One that the district has always had. It was the utmost show of respect and love that the district knew how to give.
Peeta and Garnet both pressed their fingers to their lips and presented them to Katniss.
Effie didn't seem to know what to do with herself as the district honored Katniss, but she didn't have to worry for long. Haymitch Abernathy was awake, and he stumbled toward the escort.
"Aw, come on, darling," he drawled, stumbling down and nearly taking her with him. He managed to grab onto her to steady himself, but it was a near thing. "Thizziz gossta be da bestest reaping in da Grmezz. Erybodyll be talkin ta you."
Effie just glared at him, shrugging his arm off her shoulder and standing up to full height. "Yes, well," she said, anxious for a change. "Thank you for those words of wisdom, Haymitch dear. But now." She paused for a moment to shoot the district a jaunty smile. "For the boys."
Peeta tensed as she said that. Effie walked over to the reaping bowl containing the boys' names and stuck her hand in. Rather than wriggling her hand around as she did with the girls, she simply shot her hand deep into the bowl and gripped a paper, pulling it out. There wasn't any of the showy sauntering that she usually had when walking over either.
As she did this, Mayor Undersee had come up to the microphone and grabbed Haymitch, pulling him back toward the chair so he wouldn't further embarrass the district.
Katniss, for her part, stood in anticipation to see who her competitor would be. The Capitol may show the districts off as a unit, but everyone knew that when the Games began, it was everyone for themselves. They weren't really connected to one another.
Unfolding the paper, Effie, read the name clearly and precisely for the entire district.
"Peeta Mellark."
Garnet gasped at his side, and he felt the eyes of the various boys around him as they turned to stare at him. It was a long moment as he stared up at the stage, hearing his name repeat over and over in his head.
Four slips. Four slips out of thousands.
Just his luck.
Hadn't his mother refused to let him take out tesserae because it would be a sign of poverty? Hadn't he missed several meals the one year he dared suggest it? Of course, all of that didn't matter because he was called anyway and the boys around him were clearing a path to the center aisle.
Garnet pulled Peeta, still numb, into a hug. Peeta felt his strong arms around him and relaxed marginally. "Go," Garnet breathed in his ear. "Go and kick ass in that arena. You hear me? Peeta, answer."
Peeta nodded. "I hear you."
"Stay strong," Garnet continued, pulling back and looking him in the eyes. "You're the strongest guy I know. Make them see it."
Nodding, Peeta brushed a stray tear out of his eye and started walking down the opened path. He wasn't going to be one of the people who the peacekeepers had to drag onto the stage. He would be strong.
In the center aisle, he held his head high and marched toward the stage with a purpose. He took a deep breath and walked up the steps. Effie held out a hand to help him and he gave her his most charming smile.
"Thank you," he said, taking her hand to his lips for a slight kiss like he had seen in all those Capitol shows and interviews. He wasn't going to let them see weakness, and Peeta's strength was the ability to spew a bunch of crap and get people to like him. It worked on teachers, it would work on the Capitol.
Effie giggled, bringing her hand up to her face gently for a moment. "Oh, stop it," she gushed, not at all sounding like she wanted him to stop. She led him over to the center of the stage and asked, "Are there any volunteers?"
Unlike with Primrose, no one stepped forward. The people of District 12 were looking up at him with suspicion and dislike. His show with Effie would be a hit with the Capitol—everyone there loved charming people—but it wasn't here. Here, it was a betrayal. Here, it was disrespectful. Especially when standing next to someone like Katniss, who had just sacrificed everything for her sister.
It hurt more than Peeta cared to admit realizing that he would probably have his district dislike him while the Capitol swooned. It hurt, but he made a promise to Garnet. He would only let them see him strong. He was strongest when he was controlling a situation.
"Well," said Effie, chirping away. "Let's get a big round of applause for Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, the tributes of District Twelve!"
I can't remember where in the book that it said that Peeta was sixteen. All it said was that he was in Katniss' class. So, I decided that the way Panem's school system works is that anyone born from Jan. 1st to Dec. 31st is in class together. However, the reaping is based on who has already turned 12. So, Peeta is only fifteen at the time of the reaping because his birthday is December 12th.
I also made Haymitch the victor at eighteen rather than sixteen because I figured it would make him a little older and a little stronger when he was in the arena.
Finally, I decided to have the first victor from District 12, who I named Beena Greene, still be alive but in the Capitol for medical treatment. It'll become clear why as the story progresses.