This idea came to me recently. It's a fusion, not a true crossover - Downton is in District 10, there are Hunger Games, but you won't be seeing the characters or events of the actual books. I'm more exploring the setting with different characters.

0o0o0o0o0

The problem, Violet thought as she watched the graveside ceremony, was that Robert should never have let it come to this. Patrick had always counted on being the lord's heir to protect him from everything, even the Reaping. The problem was that Patrick had never understood what that protection would cost him. At least, not until it was too late. The note he'd pinned to his chest before he'd hung himself said 'I should have died in the arena', and she couldn't help but wonder if he'd been right about that. He hadn't been the worst candidate in the field, he'd been eighteen and unlike the average young lad of District Ten, he'd been strong, healthy, and well fed. He'd even had some idea of fighting, the landholders didn't go as far as some districts as to actively train their children for the blood bath, but there were lessons taught away from the eyes of the Peacekeepers.

No, Patrick had been broken by the price he'd paid by having his safety assured at the expense of another. She doubted his father James had ever told him, until after his name was called, that a deal had been made, that if his name was pulled, that someone would volunteer for him. James of course had been a bastard about it. It would have worked if it had been some anonymous boy from the outlying edges, but James had hated distant cousin Reginald for being smarter in school, marrying the girl he wanted, and having a son that outshined his own boy in most ways. Worse that Patrick and Matthew had been friends, Matthew on the edges of the landholder crowd, and devoted to his slightly older cousin who stood to inherit. An easy child to manipulate, especially as he watched his father grow sicker and sicker, James had told him that if he volunteered for Patrick, that his parents would be taken care of, that money for medicine from the Capitol would be found. James hadn't counted on gangly fifteen year old Matthew Crawley winning the Games, only to come home to find his father on his deathbed because James refused to waste the money or keep his side of the bargain. Matthew had never forgiven James, and it had preyed on Patrick, especially when his own father died not long after Reginald. Robert had tried, she would never deny it, but the unpleasant reality was that Patrick had never bounced back from Matthew volunteering as tribute for him. Robert had let Patrick coast along instead of forcing him to take up duties about the estate, when what Patrick really needed was someone to kick him in the posterior and make him work. The poor chap had needed something to do. In the end, he was probably right. It would have been better if he died in the Games. Matthew at the very least would have been spared some damage.

She dropped a rose onto the grave and stepped back. Robert did the same, and took her arm while his wife and daughters paid their respects. Robert gestured over to the sparse mourners.

"I notice Matthew didn't bother to show up," he said curtly.

"I notice you're still blaming the wrong person in this," Violet shot back. "And you're wrong. If you look up the hillside, he's waiting by his father's memorial. Isobel came so that no one would question his not showing up for the entire ceremony." She didn't point, she merely gestured slightly with her cane. Robert fortunately was wise enough to not do more than glance up the hillside.

"I don't blame him, it's not Matthew's fault," Robert huffed. "But at the end of this day, he's now my heir. He'll need to do more than lounge around the Victor's Village."

"I lounge about the Victor's Village," Violet said, her voice taking on an edge.

"That's different, Mother. You married and raised children. You helped build the estate. You… didn't spend your entire life wallowing in the unpleasantness." Robert seemed to consider his words. "I'm not judging Matthew. He was unfairly treated by James. I haven't pressured him to attend family events because of the… unpleasantness. But he's 23 and now the heir to one of the largest holdings in District 10. Mother, he's had years to make peace with the memories of the Games. It's awkward, I don't deny it, but he'll need to step up."

"Oh Robert…." She sighed. "It has been over fifty years and I haven't made peace with what I did in the Games. Do grant your new heir a little bit of time.

0o0o0o0

"You know," Mary called as she walked up the hillside, "you're allowed to be seen with the family. In fact I think Papa is planning on insisting you attend dinner with us tonight." She made a point of smiling at Matthew, who didn't even look away from his father's grave marker. People tended to leave Matthew alone and apart, and he fostered that along by rarely showing up to any sort of event. She wasn't sure she blamed him for keeping to himself. People in the district weren't used to having a young victor among them. There was Granny, of course, and Hodges, who was in his sixties and senile to where he was discreetly removed from most ceremonies once he'd put in an appearance. And Richard McKendrick, a fortyish fat man with a missing hand and the one remaining attached to either a fork or a bottle. Her grandmother could still inspire some terror with a harsh look but that was more due to her status as widow of Edward Crawley the prior Lord. People knew she was a victor of the games but it was so distant. It was the same with Hodges, who wasn't that much younger, and Dickie McKendrick was the town drunk and prone to sobbing into his plate in the few restaurants in District 10's largest town.

Matthew in contrast walked through the streets as though there was an invisible force field surrounding him, that if people got too close, he just might slam them into a wall or gouge out their eyes. It didn't help that the eye gouging finale of his games was one of the Capitol's all-time favorite kills. The popular commentators had spent a deal of time during the last games, fretting that no one would ever top Matthew Crawley's victory kill.

He took a seat at the small wooden bench that she knew either he or his mother had placed near the grave and gestured for her to join him. "I didn't want people thinking I was gloating. And I didn't want the funeral to be about me putting in an appearance. This," and he gestured to the grave marker, "was never Patrick's doing. I know who made promises to me, and I know who didn't keep them. I forgave Patrick years ago. When his father died." He laughed suddenly. "I don't think Cousin James ever understood how he emasculated his own son publically. How could anyone take Patrick seriously as a land holder and lord when it would always be known that his father bargained to save his life, only to cheat? Your father will never admit it, but I imagine he's somewhat relieved he doesn't have to hand the estate to the District laughing stock."

"I won't deny that," Mary said carefully, "particularly since I'm no longer expected to marry the District laughing stock. However, at dinner tonight you *will* be seated with Edith on one side, and me on the other, and Sybil across the way. Papa and Mama won't be very subtle in telling you to pick your poison."

He frowned. "For god's sake, Sybil is still eligible for the Reaping." He smiled at her. "I should flirt with Sybil tonight. I can horrify your parents, my mother, your servants and even poor Sybil all at once."

"I accept how amusing that will be, but you do understand she is currently so taken with Papa's chauffer that she probably wouldn't notice unless you grabbed her and kissed her and asked her to marry you." Despite the day, she laughed. "And she would say no, of course."

"As well she should, since I would be a terrible cad in asking," Matthew agreed. Then he sighed. "You know why I can't ask you."

She nodded. She didn't agree with his reasons, but it was the space between them. "It's different now. You are Papa's heir. I wouldn't be marrying the spare."

"No, but you would be marrying the District victor. The District victor who periodically has to go to the Capitol to…. Attend functions. Our being married wouldn't stop that. It wouldn't stop until there a new victor with reasonable good looks." Matthew didn't look at her.

"I don't care about that," she said after a moment. He had to do what the Capitol required. She wasn't a fool. She knew the person who partied until the dawn in the Capitol with women and men was doing it in part because he worried if he wasn't the pleasant victor companion, then his mother amongst others would be made to pay. If she and Matthew married, she would have to share him with whoever in the Capitol wanted him to bed. She didn't like it but there was no way to fight it unless they went rebel.

"We couldn't have children. I know you care about that." He said it with resignation. "Any child I have, male or female, will be a Crawley of the victor line. You know they wouldn't be able to resist."

"I do know. That's why I don't insist." It was hard though. She waited a long moment. "We could cut the wire. Run. We're both clever and we know what to do in the woods. You think I didn't pay attention in hedge school but I did. Papa showed me how to make a bow, and how to skin out an animal. I'm not as useless as I appear." She waited a long moment. "They skipped the line with Papa and Aunt Rosemund. You might be wrong."

"It was a different president then," Matthew said. "Frankly I worry that Sybil will be targeted." He looked at her. "I don't like to tell tales but I am certain she's putting her name in for tessarae." His eyes looked worried. "I don't know for certain but if she is putting her name in, she's being incredibly stupid. It's difficult in outlier districts to arrange tributes, but it's not impossible when people act as stupid as they possibly can be. Worse, if she's doing what I think, and that's dropping off the food at the local orphanage, she's asking for trouble."

"You know, sometimes you're very paranoid," she said, smiling as she took his hand.

"You know, sometimes for someone so clever and calculating, you're very naïve, Mary." He wasn't going to be jollied out of his bad mood, she could see that. "She's playing at being a rebel by putting her name in and giving the food to orphans. She thinks she's making a point. All she is really doing is attracting attention. Talk to her." He shrugged and looked away. "You know she won't listen to me."

"She's young and she doesn't understand how the world works. She hates the system she's stuck in, and sees you as complicit with our real overlords and doesn't understand that it isn't as simple as that." Mary squeezed his hand reassuringly. She understood, more than he thought. Matthew did what he was told by his handlers in the Capitol because he had no doubt they would kill his mother if he didn't. That was why he didn't go over the fence into the wilderness. If he married, the wife and her family would take Isobel's place as hostages of fate. And any child would be fodder for the games. She looked out over the tombstones. Of course there were flowers on Lavinia's grave, and her father's as well. "I understand your father, of course, and Lavinia, but why do you tend Mr. Swire's grave?"

He looked at her, surprised by her question. "I never told you?"

"No, that's why I ask.

He seemed to consider it for a long moment. "We made several agreements when she was chosen as tribute and when I volunteered for Patrick. It helped that we were friends. We agreed that we would not attack each other until we were the final two." He sighed heavily. "I was always thankful that I was spared that particular horror." Then he gestured to his father's grave. "And we agreed that if one of us won, that the victor would see that the loser's parents were taken care of. Reggie Swire was a good man, he welcomed me into his life when everyone else was flinching away from me in horror. He's earned a few flowers once a week."

"In fairness, you were remarkably unpleasant to be around then." She leaned into him, grateful that he had managed to conquer the worst of the demons from that time. In the distance she could see the wire fences that enclosed the district. "I meant it, you know. I'd go with you, under the wire."

He squeezed her hand. "I know. But they would kill my mother, and your parents and sisters. I can't see a way out of this particular trap. Not without a full scale rebellion."

"Maybe we should. Have a full scale rebellion, I mean." She meant it to be funny. "We can discuss it at dinner tonight. After Papa awkwardly points out you're now his heir and offers you the choice of his daughters. Please don't show up drunk. I find it charming but we are technically mourning, you know."

"Can I pretend to be drunk?"