This chapter was written by notjustalittlegirl on Archive of Our Own

To demonstrate that one's duty to the capitol cannot be taken on by another, no volunteers will be allowed in the 125th Hunger Games.

This ominous statement, made months ago via the reading of the Quell Card, lingered like an anvil in the back of Lexa's mind as she stood in the crowd, pressed up against at least four other eighteen-year olds from District 1. The constant reminder that this was it did nothing to calm Lexa's already frayed nerves as she watched the escort take the stage and wobble on her high heels to stand in front of the glass bowl, where some of the slips had Lexa Woods printed on them. Not enough slips.

Age was a curse in District 1, especially this year. This year would have been Lexa's last chance to volunteer, to bring glory to herself and to her district. To find vengeance for Costia, who the games had claimed several years ago, volunteering to save Lexa.

Lexa had never been in any real danger, there would always be someone willing to volunteer in District One, and Costia's grand romantic gesture to the girl she loved had cost her her life.

Lexa needed to win the games. For Costia.

She would have been picked to volunteer this year, she knew it. She was the best her district had to offer. But there were to be no volunteers, not this time.

"Welcome, welcome!" The escort, a toothpick-thin woman whose name might have been Julia, had blue hair done up in a beehive style, and her heels were high enough to make Lexa's feet hurt just from looking at them.

"Welcome to the 125th Annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour! As usual, ladies first!"

Julia fished around in the fishbowl, and Lexa's fingers fisted in the fabric of her dark black dress as she tried to steel herself against the inevitable disappointment of hearing someone else's name called and losing her one last chance to avenge Costia.

"Lexa Woods!"

She thought, at first, that she had misheard. There was no way she could be that lucky.

But then the girls surrounding her nudged her forward, their faces lined with the same disappointment she had been anticipating for herself, and she walked towards the stage that held the beginnings of her glory with her head held high and dress swishing through the crowd, realizing that this wasn't a dream, and she was really going into the Hunger Games, volunteering be damned.

Through the slight buzzing in her ears, Lexa could vaguely hear the crowd chanting her name louder and louder. As she took her final steps up the stairs and onto the stage, minding her footing so as not to trip and mark herself out as a weakling, she saw Anya looking at her.

The victor of the 115th Hunger Games who had taken a special interest in Lexa as soon as she started training and taught her everything she knew was smiling proudly, and Lexa knew that Anya had been hoping for this as much as she herself had.

It was a chance to show all Panem what they were made of.

"Let's do this," Anya mouthed, and Lexa grinned back at her, ready to hear who her first ally, aside from her mentor, would be.

"And now, for the boys."

Julia grabbed the first slip her hand landed on and read it. "Aden Woods!"

Lexa's heart nearly stopped, and the grin briefly slipped from her face.

Her little cousin Aden was only twelve and had just barely started his training two months ago. He was good, excellent, for his age, but all his natural skill would be nothing when compared to brutes from Two and Four, who would be at least double his size, strength, and training.

Lexa quickly pasted her smile back onto her face before anyone could notice it slipped, heart pounding as her cousin came to join her onstage.

For Lexa to win, Aden would have to die. The thought slammed into her lick a ton of bricks, and suddenly, she didn't feel so relieved to have been picked anymore. No matter how this ended, she would be responsible in some way for what happened to her little cousin.

Aden made his way through the crowd, which was chanting his name the same way they'd chanted Lexa's only moments ago, despite their knowledge that he had no chance. For all the names District One got called by the other districts, heartless could never be one of them. He was trembling slightly, but it was so minor that the cameras wouldn't even be able to register it. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for her cousin as he joined her on stage.

When the two shook hands, she gripped his tightly, trying to tell him without words how very sorry she was.


"Echo Teles!"

From his place in the crowd, Roan saw Echo smile, a smile that he was more than familiar with. That smile may have been able to pass as a gracious acceptance of victory against the poor girls who hadn't gotten picked, especially those eighteen-year olds who would never get their chance to bring glory to District Two, but Roan knew better than anyone what Echo's smile meant.

That smile was the smile she wore whenever she knocked a trainer or an opponent to ground, whenever they yielded to her. That was the smile she wore as she hacked dummies to pieces in a matter of seconds. He'd seen that smile often enough during training.

The smile Echo was wearing was the smile of someone who was ready to murder anything that stood in her path.

He smiled himself, knowing that Echo would bring victory to District Two. She was his friend, as much as anyone could be friends with anyone in their district, and he thought he could see her smile point directly at him from the stage.

Echo only got a brief moment in the spotlight before District Two's escort was reaching for the other glass ball, and Roan wondered which poor boy would be unlucky enough to have Echo as an opponent.

"Roan Azgeda!" A grin split Roan's face, similar to the grin that had just slid off Echo's with the pronouncement of his name. Well, that was a pleasant surprise. Unexpected, since he had never taken tesserae in his life, but pleasant.

As he mounted the stage and shook Echo's hand, he felt the worry in her movements, and saw it in her eyes. Of all the boys, and girls, she'd ever trained against, Roan was the only one who had ever beaten her.

District Two would have a victor alright. But it would be him.


"Raven Reyes!"

Raven Reyes. Me. Fucking hell.

Raven wasn't as terrified to go into the Hunger Games as one would expect from a District Three girl. It wasn't as if she had much of a life, just an absentee mother and a dead-end job working in a repair shop that she knew was far below her skill level. Another tessera to take out so she could survive the year.

Still, it wasn't as Raven wanted to die. Especially not before she fixed that damn TV that the mayor had pawned off on her boss's shop. That thing could fetch a damn good price. If anyone in the district besides the mayor actually had the money to pay for it.

The walk through the crowd in the main square seemed to take forever. She passed person after person who she must have known at one point in her life, but none of their faces registered. Except for one, up on the stage. Her boss, Sinclair, a former victor of the Hunger Games who had gotten bored with his endless money and decided to open a shop, hiring a fourteen-year-old Raven as one of his first employees. He always gave her the hardest jobs, knowing how frustrated she was that there was nothing more challenging to fix in his shop, but also knowing that not many others would be willing to hire her, best mechanic in her class or not.

Sinclair was looking at her intently, face swimming with a mixture of horror and something deeper she couldn't quite identify. She watched him as she mounted the stairs and saw him turn to whisper something into another's victor's ear. Then they both turned back to look at her.

In middle of the crowd, Monty Green watched the girl, Raven, standing still as a statue on the stage. Once upon a time they had known each other, before Raven's mother forced her to drop out of school and she had gone under the radar. Last, he had heard, she'd been fixing televisions. The one thing he remembered about Raven Reyes from their school days was that she was the one person who could consistently match, or even beat, his scores on tests, and that she could fix any machine you set in front of her.

Long story short, Reyes was smarter than any other girl they could've picked to go into the games instead of her.

She could win the games if she worked as hard at them as she did at everything else in her life.

"Monty Green!"

Monty had been so intent on sizing up Raven's chances in the Games that he almost missed his name. He swallowed, almost unable to believe what was happening, and started the walk to join Raven on stage.

Just my fucking luck. Not only do I have to go in, but I'm going against the smartest girl in this entire district.

Through the crowd, he could hear his mother's screams, and they hurt him almost as much as the knowledge that he had about a month left to live scared him.

He trudged up the stairs and shook Raven Reyes's hand in the traditional show of goodwill between district partners. Her eyes were unreadable, but Monty thought he could detect a small trace of fear behind the pupils.

Her gaze was intense and directed entirely at him. When her hand squeezed his, and she gave him a slight smile, Monty knew that there would be at least one person in the arena who wouldn't try to kill him.


"Luna Floukru!"

Sighs of both relief and extreme disappointment could be heard from all corners of the assembled crowd. Luna thought that, to the bloodthirsty people of District Four, the groans that proclaimed just how unhappy they were with their female tribute this Quell were more appropriate than the cheers. The groans came from the people that knew she would rather be slaughtered at the cornucopia than lay a sword on anyone ever again.

The happy gasps came from those who only knew the old Luna. The Luna who was so ruthless that she had killed her own brother during a simple training game. Those who knew the old Luna knew she would do whatever it took to win, just as a good Career should. The few who knew the new Luna, the Luna who hadn't touched a weapon since she had looked down at Derrick's body, covered with blood that still leaked from the multiple wounds in his body as the steady rise and fall of his chest had stopped, they were the ones who knew that Luna would bring them no glory.

The moment she stepped one bare foot onto the stage, the crowd quieted. The escort crossed the stage to the other bowl and dug around until she found a slip of paper that suited her fancy.

"Riley Sullivan!"

Luna almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. District Four would be nothing this year, with a pathetic combination of the Career who wouldn't kill and the boy that had been taken out of training at age thirteen because a mental evaluation had found him psychotic and dangerous, likely to pose a threat to his own safety and that of others.

Even though they had praised Luna's determination and fighting spirit after she had killed her brother, it wasn't like they wanted that to become a regular thing.

Riley was mad. The look in his eyes as he shook Luna's hand confirmed it.

Maybe that was a good thing. It wasn't like District Four deserved glory anyway.


John Murphy heard his name called by the dyed-blonde woman on the stage, and his immediate thought was a barrage of every swear word that had ever existed within the confines of District Five.

This could not be happening. There was no way he was going into the Hunger Games. A yell was on the tip of his tongue, but before he could let it slip out he remembered the tributes who had gone before him. Those who looked weak at their Reapings never lasted beyond a few days.

Besides, his father's voice spoke inside his head. You're a survivor, John. You're a fighter.

As he walked to the stage, he focused on the sort-of-pretty face of his best (read: only) friend, Zoe Monroe. This year's female tribute from District Five. Well, if he was going in, it was good that he at least had an ally to begin with, even if they were both likely going to die horrible and bloody deaths.

Of course, the miniscule bit of gladness he felt at the fact that he would have an ally wasn't stopping him from wishing both himself and Monroe were back in the crowd, safe for another year to take out tesserae, which was their only means of survival in a dismal world. He wished that they were in the crowd, and two of the privileged kids who had never tasted the bland tesserae grain in their lives were up on this stage, finally gaining some knowledge of how it felt to be truly afraid instead of eating cake.

"Fuck this shit," Murphy whispered into Monroe's ear, and gave her the first hug that either of them had given in years.

Well, one way or another, he would never be the pathetic orphan John Murphy again.


Maya was crying on the stage, ugly tears that dripped down her nose and into their mingled hair. Jasper would never have described anything about Maya as ugly, but these tears certainly fit the bill.

Jasper wasn't crying, not yet, but he felt as if every sob from Maya an arrow that was tearing him further and further away from the happy life they'd had only ten minutes ago. Instead of shaking her hand, as was the custom, Jasper had pulled his girlfriend into his arms and given her a passionate kiss, the last one that they would ever share in District Six.

It just wasn't fair.

Jasper knew that he would die to save Maya in a heartbeat, that wasn't even a question, but that didn't mean he didn't doubt his ability to keep her alive until the final few. Or to keep himself alive to keep her alive.

He tried to tell Maya to stop crying, that it would be easier for them to get off to a good start in the games if they seemed strong, but he was shaking so hard as he held her, his throat closing around the words he wanted to say.

Maya tried to hold onto him as the peacekeepers came to drag them to their separate rooms where they would say goodbye to their families, and that was what finally set off Jasper's tears.


When she heard her name, Ontari's face split into a grin wider than the hips of the woman who had called it. A grin like hers would seem strange on the face of a tribute from District Seven, but those who counted her district as one with no chance to win had never met Ontari or seen the way she practiced hacking things to pieces with the axes her family members used for their daily work. Axes she had been training with since she could walk.

Those who saw the sixteen-year-old throwing around axes would have typically considered it normal, another girl training for a life chopping apart trees. They would have walked on past, not knowing that the life of another beaten down lumberjack was not what Ontari had planned for her future.

And her new life started the second she got picked for the Hunger Games. Two years earlier than she had planned, but nonetheless she was ready. She was barely able to conceal a brutal laugh as she caught Nia's eye. The former victor was the only one who knew of Ontari's plans and had agreed to help her. They shared a look that meant one thing: The Hunger Games didn't know what was coming into their arena.

"Lincoln Trikru."

Lincoln had caught the glimmer in Ontari's eyes as she mounted the stage, and knew that the same confidence and, for lack of a better word, barely concealed brutality, was far from present in his gait as he walked the same path. He had heard rumours about Ontari, the District Seven girl who didn't fear the games, who looked forward to each reaping hoping her name would be called. He had seen her, on his way home from school, cutting apart sawdust filled dummies in her backyard as if she were some sort of Career.

And now she was his district partner.

No one else in the Hunger Games knew what Ontari was capable of. Lincoln did. As they shook hands, he realized that he was going to have to be the one to take her out, before she could murder a child or an innocent


"Clarke Griffin." Clarke could hear her mother yell over the crowd's quiet murmuring, even above the roaring of blood in her own ears. She could see her mother trying to push her way through the crowd, as if she could somehow rescue her only child from the all-consuming inferno of the Hunger Games. Clarke wished that her mother would stop. Abby's tears would only bring on Clarke's.

Clarke was a member of the privileged society of District Eight and had never expected to be chosen for the Games. She had thought she was safe, or as safe as one could be against the reaping.

No one is safe. Clarke's father's words to her before the bullet had fired into his skull echoed in her mind like the sound of the bullet itself. Jake Griffin had been executed for discovering and trying to reveal to the public a flaw in the system keeping track of tesserae. Clarke had believed him, but she never thought the system was so flawed that she'd be chosen. She, who had never taken tesserae in her life. She, who was practically family to Mayor Jaha.

Mayor Jaha beckoned Clarke up the stairs and gave her a regretful look. She tried to calm the roaring in her ears and block out her mother's screaming to hear who her district partner would be.

"Wells Jaha."

Wells's father's roar of horror almost eclipsed that of Clarke's mother. Peacekeepers were instantly on the stage, wrapping their arms around the mayor just in case he decided to try something drastic. Wells knew better. His father had too much respect for the rules of the Games. He wouldn't try to break them, not even on the practically-zero chance of saving his child from almost certain death.

He tried to conceal his limp as he climbed the stairs to stand beside his former best friend on the stairs, but Clarke's steely look in his direction distracted him so much that he almost tripped on his fake leg.

When he reached out to shake her hand, her hand stayed firmly planted at her side, drawing confused murmurs from the crowd, who had never seen a tribute refuse to shake their district partner's hand.

Clarke's rejection didn't matter to Wells. She would probably be glad for the chance to kill him, but that didn't matter. He would protect her anyway.


"Emori d'Olivera."

Emori walked towards the stage quickly, head held as high as it could be, what with the unthinkable event that had just occurred. She had seen what the Hunger Games could do, ever since her brother Otan had died in them two years previously, run through by that year's winner, a smug bitch called Alie who had laughed as thirteen year old Emori had screamed and hit the television, praying to every deity she could think of that it was broken and that she hadn't just seen her twin brother hacked to pieces.

Sure, Emori wanted justice for Otan. What sister wouldn't? But there were better ways to get it than by going into the Games and becoming just another tribute bending to the Capitol's whims. Unfortunately for her, there was no other way to get it now. Except for the small fact that she was probably fucked, with no chance beyond the fact that two years on the streets had made her more cunning than most could hope to become in a lifetime.

"Ilian Trishanakru."

Emori had only met her district partner once or twice, but the name matched with a face before she even saw him approaching the stage to join her. He was in the same year as her in school, but Ilian had always kept to himself, only speaking when spoken to and preferring to sit at a table in the corner and eat alone, when he ate at all.

Therefore, she knew nothing about him except what all of District Nine knew: that he had accidentally killed his father and mother in a thresher accident, and then retreated to the fringes of society, living alone on his family's farm and hiding whenever anyone came around to try and take him to one of the community homes that he and she both knew didn't want him.

Loath as she was to make conclusions about someone else's feelings, Emori thought she might have seen something in Ilian's eyes that spoke of relief.


When Harper's name was plucked casually from the Reaping bowl as one might pick a dead fly off the back of one of the cows that mooed everywhere in District Ten, her friend Fox gave her the largest hug the girls had ever shared, which was saying quite a bit. Fox's thin arms wrapped around Harper with a strength the bigger girl hadn't known her petite friend still possessed, and all the arguments they'd ever had, all the boys they'd ever fought over, everything that had tried to tear their friendship apart over the years disappeared.

The only two girls in the District Ten community home, Fox and Harper had always been different. Harper was calm where Fox preferred to drink herself wild. Fox loved science while Harper preferred history. Fox had been an orphan her whole life while Harper had only come to the community home when she was nine.

That hadn't stopped them from becoming the closest of friends.

The hug they shared lasted only as long as it took for the escort to call Harper's name again and, while Harper knew her friend would come to say goodbye to her during the brief time allowed for such things, she couldn't help but feel as if the hug would be their last.

"I love you, Fox."

"Win, Harper. Come home."

Disentangling herself from Fox's arms was one of the hardest things Harper had ever done, especially since she knew that they would probably never share a room again, or whisper under the covers about their day at school or choke down the glop that their home called food.

"And now, for the boys. Nathan Miller!"

Nate's first thought was of Bryan.

His boyfriend was all the way across the crowd, standing as far away from Nate as possible due to their nasty fight yesterday, which he was genuinely worried had been a breakup in disguise. He was too far for Nate to shove his way through the crowd and kiss him fiercely, and all he could do was walk towards the stage to join Harper and hope that Bryan still loved him enough to come and say goodbye.

The thought that he might not was more terrifying than the fact that he had just been chosen to fight to death in the Hunger Games.


Finn Collins stood in the huge crowd of District 11 children, surrounded by those whose names he didn't know and might never find out. The only thing he knew about the girl on stage was her name- Charlotte- but that didn't stop him from seeing how afraid she was. She was only thirteen. She was the only reason her younger siblings were alive. It wasn't fair.

"Finn Collins." Finn was barely able to process the two words that made up his name, but the murmurs in the crowd said enough. What's a boy like that doing getting picked?

Finn's family, while far from rich, was one of the few families in 11 that didn't go to bed hungry every night. The only work Finn had ever had to do involved ducking around the peacekeepers who were out for his head due to all the things he stole to make his daily life more interesting and to hand out to the beggar kids he passed on his way to school each morning.

He hugged his friend Sterling as hard as he could before beginning the walk through the crowd to the stage. Finn didn't say anything to his friend, but he knew that Sterling could tell exactly what he was thinking: It's better that it's me. Better me than another little kid whose family needs them.

Finn shook little Charlotte's hand, willing her to stand up straight and stop the trembling of her lip. She'd have no chance if she didn't look brave.


When Bellamy Blake heard his little sister's name, called by the fat Capitol woman in the purple wig she was trying to convince everyone was her real hair, he couldn't breathe. His mind was reeling in disbelief. Not Octavia. They can't have Octavia. THEY CAN'T HAVE HER!

Bellamy and Octavia had been on their own ever since their parents had been killed in the mine explosion. Bellamy had kept them out of sight and out of the community home and had protected Octavia ever since he'd turned sixteen. That had been two years ago. Two years of living on the fringes of society, of having only each other.

His eyes found Octavia, bravely walking to the stage, head held high. Just like O, to never let anyone see that she was afraid. His instincts taking over control from his brain, Bellamy began pushing his way forward, determined to snatch his little sister and make an ill-advised run for it. Gina must have been able to guess exactly what Bellamy was thinking, because she grabbed her best friend's arm just strongly enough that he wouldn't be able to move forward without pushing her off him and into the crowd. That wouldn't be an easy feat. Gina was far stronger than she looked, stronger than any malnourished girl should be. "Bell, O's strong, as strong as any of those Career assholes. She'll be alright, she'll come back to you!"

"Let me go, Gina!" Bellamy tried to escape his friend's grasp, tears pricking at his eyes. They can't have Octavia!

Octavia was glaring at the crowd, defiance and refusal to be afraid evident in her face. Then Bellamy heard his own name.

Oh, thank God. I can protect her. I'll get her out. I'll make sure she comes home. I'm not scared.

He was.

Gina clapped Bellamy on the back, giving him a mournful look telling him what she'd never say aloud: I'll miss you, Bellamy.

Gina, at least, knew that Bellamy Blake wouldn't be coming home as long as Octavia Blake lived.

Bellamy almost missed Octavia's yelling as he climbed the stairs, but he felt it when she launched herself at him and hugged him tightly. I'm going to get you out, O. You're going to live.