A/N: As of 2/10/2016: I had originally posted the first few chapters of this story ages ago, and the entire first half of the fic was written and ready, but I unfortunately lost all of my pre-written chapters not long after due to some computer issues at the time and gave up on the whole idea, as I didn't feel like trying to recreate everything that I had already gone over once before. It was too frustrating to try and continue the story so soon after losing all of my hard work on it.

Luckily, however, I do still have my loose outlines for these fics on my computer, and after recently taking a look at them again, I've decided that it's been long enough and I'm newly inspired to try and give the idea another go! –

This is an AU fic, part one of a probable four, where the Harvest Moon characters live in Panem, the setting of the Hunger Games series. I'm keeping this story in the Harvest Moon archive for now, but may end up moving it to HM/HG crossovers later on. I did originally write a prologue for this fanfic, but if you'd like to read it, it has been uploaded as a separate oneshot called "Final Moments" in the Hunger Games category.

-CCM

Chapter 1: Insomniac

Jillian Sterling awoke with a jolt, her heart pounding. Her vision swam in the darkness as she slowly opened her eyes and struggled to make sense of her surroundings. As her eyesight gradually grew accustomed to the dim light, she could just begin to make out the faint shapes of familiar bedroom objects appearing out of the gloom.

The girl brushed a hand over her forehead, pushing back her limp brunette bangs and wiping away the beads of sweat that dotted her skin. She took a deep, shuddering breath as she finally remembered where she was, and that she was safe – for now, at least.

The nightmare had been so vivid, so real… Even more so than usual, she realized. The terrible images were still emblazoned on the back of her mind.

She was running. In her nightmare, Jill had been running as fast as her legs could carry her through a vast, unfamiliar forest, with thorny branches that scratched at her arms and face, and snakelike vines that wrapped around her ankles, as though attempting to pull her back. Trees tall and menacing, looming over her like great, malevolent entities. Sneering at her pathetic attempts to escape.

But she could not stop. She could feel the stinging cuts against her skin, the thudding ache of exertion in her chest, and in that moment it was all so real to her, and terrifying. She had to keep running, running, running, despite the growing feeling that she was on the verge of giving out completely. Jill shuddered as she recalled the inexorable force that pushed her onward through the trees.

She was being pursued. She could hear their footsteps echoing behind her, spreading out, and caught fleeting glimpses of the dark forms that chased her relentlessly through the woods, until she could run no further. She doubled over in pain, her chest heaving, breath coming out in rattled gasps. They surrounded her, and she could feel their smoldering gazes burning right through her; their cruel, heartless laughter ringing in her ears as they discussed various ways to kill her in cold blood.

Slit her throat, snap her neck, light her on fire and watch her burn alive, screaming -

No, no, no.

Taking another deep breath, Jill rolled over in bed, tugging the blankets up with her. Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to keep them shut.

At that moment, there came a sudden loud snore from the bunk above her, and Jill released a sigh. So that was what had awoken her from her nightmare… no surprises there. One would think she would get used to such a sound, after sharing a room with him for as long as she could remember. But that hadn't happened yet.

Well, there was no way she was going to fall back asleep now; not if Jack was to keep snoring like a drunken bear. He probably had the loudest snores in all of District One, she would bet on it.

Jill knocked lightly on the planks that made up the bottom of the upper bunk, where her twin brother was fast asleep. Oh, how she wished she could sleep as peacefully as he.

"Jack?"

No response. She tried again.

"Hey, Jack…"

"Huh…? Whuh-?" He answered her groggily, confused and half asleep. Jill instantly felt bad for waking him, especially over something so childish.

"Sorry… It-it's nothing…"

A face appeared over the edge of the bunk bed, staring down at her with sleepy brown eyes. "You sure?"

Jill looked away. "Just a dream…"

"What about?" But of course he was sure that he already knew. What else could her nightmares be about, especially at this time of year?

"The Arena." Her voice went quiet, as she added in a whisper, "It's always the Arena."

Jack went completely silent. After a few minutes of waiting for a response, Jill stretched up to sneak a glance at him – he had fallen back asleep. Lucky boy. Jill settled back down onto her bed, staring at the wooden bottom of the bunk over her head.

The Reapings were tomorrow. Tomorrow. Today, actually, seeing as it was already nearing one o'clock in the morning. A wave of nausea rose up in her stomach, but she managed to keep it down.

She and her brother had each turned fifteen this year; this would be their fourth eligible Reaping. Her fourth chance to be called into the annual Hunger Games, a fight to the death on live national television.

Not that she would actually have to go into the arena, even if she were Reaped. At least in her District, one of the wealthiest in all of Panem, plenty of other teenagers scrambled at the chance to volunteer for such a rare opportunity… But purposely withdrawing from the challenge after having been officially Reaped would only lead to ridicule. Backing down was a sign of weakness, of cowardice. And cowards were looked down upon in District One.

And then there was Claire, her older sister… This was her sixth Reaping. She had just turned seventeen. Her name was in the Reaping bowl more than Jill's was, or Jack's…

But she had to stop thinking like that, Jill scolded herself. It would only drive her insane with worry. Her sister wouldn't be Reaped for the Games– she couldn't be. There were so many other girls with their names in the Reaping bowl for District One… And more than enough volunteers willing to take her place if she were, anyhow.

Jill sighed; she knew exactly what had caused her nightmare in the first place. It was the same thing every time. After dinner, she had watched a rerun of an old Hunger Games on the television. She didn't really want to watch it, but something about this Games in particular… pulled her in. It was last year's Hunger Games, the Quarter Quell where twice the regular amount of tributes were sent to the Arena. Double the excitement, double the deaths, they said. Or something like that.

It fascinated her, despite the deep disgust for the Hunger Games that she had always harbored within. She was fearful of them, and yet they consumed her every thought. Ironic.

Jill pressed her face against the pillow as she recalled scenes from the last Games she had watched. The tall girl with the axe, pretty but deadly, and the injured boy from the poorest District who had ended up winning the Games, much to everyone's surprise… One girl was skewered to death by a flock of vicious birds with razor-sharp beaks, another practically eaten alive by a pack of carnivorous squirrels that had ripped her apart…

They were all just like her. Teenagers. Or at least, they used to be. Jill fought the urge to vomit.

She had seen them all hardly a year ago as she observed them on the television screen with her family, safe at home while they killed each other off in the Arena. And again, during the Victory Tour that always followed the Games, when she listened as the Victor that year… Haymitch, was his name… gave some stupid pre-scripted speech in front of her entire District. He was only a year or two older than her at most, a scrawny District Twelve boy. He didn't look like a killer.

Jill knew the District One tributes were supposed to be strong and brave and beautiful and all that (at least, that's what everyone always told her), seeing as they often made up the lethal pack of Career tributes each year, but she was not. Not at all.

Jillian Sterling was about the furthest thing from a Career as one can get.

In all honesty, if she were chosen, she would be screwed. Sure, she had some basic training like most of the Reaping-age in District One, but mainly stuff to do with the simplest of fighting techniques and some varied strength and endurance work. She didn't make a career of it, nor did she want to. Heck, she had never even used any real weapons before – in fact, the closest thing to a weapon she had ever used was an unassuming kitchen knife. She would be utterly hopeless with a sword, or a bow, or an axe.

However, many in her District, it seemed, saw the Hunger Games simply as a contest of skill. Those were the Careers. They actually trained specifically for the Games (although that was technically illegal), and even volunteered to go into the Arena themselves. They saw the fame, the riches, the glory in winning; in being announced as a Victor.

But Jill only saw the deaths.

She sat in that dark room for what seemed like hours, though in actuality it had only been a matter of minutes. Darkened images raced across her mind, interspersed with flashes of bright red blood. Horrible things.

Shuddering slightly, Jill drew the blanket further up over her body, curling up tighter so as to keep her bare feet within its warmth. However, she wasn't cold. It was a relatively warm night, after all. She just liked the sense of security the soft, warm fabric gave her for the time being as it settled over her skin.

She closed her eyes, wishing to fall back asleep as quickly and easily as her brother had, but the dreamless slumber she so desired didn't come. Instead, her eyes popped back open, and she stifled a sigh.

She needed to do something, anything to take her mind off things, so she hastily decided to take a walk outside in the fresh air. At least it was a nice night.

Opening the door quietly so nobody else in the house would hear, Jill stepped out into the crisp night air and took a deep breath, savoring it. She hadn't even realized just how much she was sweating until now. Her bangs were practically slicked to her forehead, not that it really mattered. There was nobody to impress out here, after all. Not in the middle of the night.

Jill slowly made her way through the small plot of land in front of their house, careful not to step on any of the plants growing in Claire's garden. Claire would never forgive her if she treaded on her precious tomatoes.

This was a near-nightly ritual for Jill. After struggling to fall asleep and stay asleep, she would finally give up and leave, taking a walk through the dimly lit streets when the weather permitted. That nightly outing always helped to ease her troubled mind, at the very least.

But she could never let anyone know. Her nightmares, her insecurities, her fears. That would just be admitting weakness, something that everyone in District One frowned upon.

Jill didn't expect to see anyone else out on the streets that night. She rarely ever saw another living soul on these nighttime forays, considering that her family lived in one of the relatively nicer neighborhoods in District One, where nightwalkers and the homeless were scarce. She wouldn't dare wander in those neighborhoods alone, if she could help it. Especially after dark.

But to her surprise, she did see something different that night.

As she made her way down the road back toward home, a flash of pale something flitted just out of her line of sight, and her heartbeat quickened. She turned toward the direction of the fleeting shape just in time to see someone climb through the window of a nearby house. Quickly, but with a sort of cat-like grace, the mysterious figure lifted the pane just enough for him or her to slide through effortlessly.

A chill ran down Jill's spine as she realized that was her house. She froze in shock and disbelief.

The figure made it through the window without a sound, and Jill was left wondering whether she had actually seen anything in the first place. A certain rumor took prominence in her mind, and suddenly she was torn between fascination and fear. Could it be…?

The Prince of the Stars, the enigmatic Phantom Skye.

Everyone at school talked about him. Jill often heard their whispering; one girl, one of the pretty blonde gossip queens of the school, even brought one of his supposed notes to class, signed by the Prince of the Stars himself. She even told everyone how her mother's precious diamond pendant had gone missing that same night.

Jill had caught a glimpse of the note as the girl passed it on to one of her equally gossipy friends. If it was all true, then that Phantom Skye really did have nice handwriting.

Phantom Skye had become a bit of a District One legend, you could say. He was a thief, but he wasn't just any old thief. Everyone seemed to know about him, yes, and many people claimed that he had broken into their houses and stolen their riches.

Apparently, he didn't just break into houses and steal stuff. He would leave a note beforehand, warning the owner of their soon-to-be loss. But despite the evidence, he had never been caught in the act. Somehow, he always managed to slip away, unharmed and unpunished, without leaving even so much as a single sign of a possible break-in until the theft itself was discovered. Like a phantom.

And, as Jill recalled, he was also extremely attractive. At least, that's what the girls at school said. Jill had never seen him herself, so she had no clue what he might have truly looked like. In fact, most of them probably hadn't, either. Almost nobody had actually seen him, especially not in the act of thievery.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden sound, and she looked up to spot someone coming out that same window, a small brown bag of some sort clutched in the figure's hand. She caught a flash of silvery hair in the moonlight, and her eyes widened.

He hadn't noticed her, and was just about to turn and run off when she called out, somewhat unwisely, "Hey… stop!"

The figure stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the small brunette girl staring defiantly at him, her arms crossed over her chest. She blushed, unsure of herself, and a smirk crossed his face. Jill could swear he was laughing at her.

To her surprise, the strange trespasser actually chose to approach her, and she shrunk backward a few steps. What if he tried to hurt her?

The boy, Jill realized, was around the same age as herself, though distinctly more good-looking. He had blue-green eyes that seemed to pierce straight through her soul, and somewhere in the back of her mind Jill remembered that this was the so-called Prince of the Stars, Phantom Thief Skye. What a ridiculous title.

Finally, recalling every ounce of courage she had left in her, Jill uttered a single question. "What are you doing?"

The Prince of the Stars said nothing, but gestured toward the small cloth pouch clutched in his left hand with a smirk. Within the folds of the brown fabric, Jill could catch a glimpse of something sparkling and shimmering in the light of the moon. Jewelry.

"What are you doing with that?" She glared at him accusingly, hoping she looked relatively threatening and not just like some stupid teenage girl. "...You took those from my house, didn't you? Those are my mother's – give it back!"

The thief shrugged, though he looked distinctly smug as he replied, "Hehe. Don't worry yourself, beautiful… I'm only borrowing it."

Jill snorted incredulously, ignoring his inane compliment. "Yeah, right… Because people always break into homes in the middle of the night when they want to borrow precious jewels."

He raised his arms in mock defense. "Hey, I didn't break in… That window was unlocked, darling. That's your problem, not mine."

Jill did all she could to not slap the palm of her hand against her forehead. The criminal in front of her looked lightly amused, and he took another step toward her, getting uncomfortably close, in Jill's opinion.

"What are you doing out so late, anyway?" He stepped ever closer, lifting one hand to stroke her cheek as he tilted his head to the side to look at the girl. "A beautiful maiden such as yourself shouldn't be out alone at this hour… It could be dangerous."

Okay, Jill admitted with the smallest of shivers, that action made her pretty nervous. Squirming away from his touch, hiding the faint blush that was now beginning to spread over her cheeks, she chose to ignore the question and instead asked, "Are you… Phantom Skye?"

He smirked at the girl, arms crossed in front of his chest and eyes narrowed as he took a small step back. "Finally caught on, have you? Hehe... Why, yes I am, but you may simply call me Skye."

Jill snorted, hoping to hide her uneasiness. "Well, I should be getting back inside, now…"

'Skye' nodded, still staring at the girl intently. "...The Reapings are tomorrow."

"Today, technically," she corrected him automatically.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever. You should go to bed, get your beauty sleep... Not that you need it." He winked at her, and Jill rolled her eyes in exasperation as she turned away.

"Um… Bye, Skye."

"Goodbye, Pony." He put a light but unmistakable stress on the nickname, and she froze.

Pony… That was the nickname her sister Claire had given her, ages ago. She had called her that ever since they were little kids. How did this Skye know…?

She shook her head. It was probably nothing. Everyone seemed to call her 'Pony' nowadays, due to the telltale ponytail hairstyle she had worn ever since her earliest days in school. He probably just noticed her hair, and made up the nickname on the spot. That was it. That had to be it.

Jill approached the house, but turned back for one last glance at Skye once she reached the doorstep. The mysterious boy was still standing in the same spot she had left him in. She squinted at him, a strange thought entering her mind as she took in his appearance from this new angle.

"Hey… You know, you look sort of familiar…!"

Skye shrugged before turning away, cutting her off. "Hehe. Perhaps… Perhaps not. Sweet dreams, beautiful."

Jill sighed with relief as she finally reentered her home and flopped onto her bed once again, tugging the blanket back over her body before realizing, with heavy irritation, that Skye had gotten away with her mother's jewels after all. How had he managed to distract her...? How could she be so careless?

She groaned. Man, was that guy annoying. And yet… for some reason unknown to her, she couldn't get her mind off him. Why did he look so familiar? And why did his face seem to bring some memory to mind, a memory that she knew was there in the back of her consciousness, but couldn't quite put her finger on?

Jill hoped to possibly regain the memory after getting some sleep, but as it turned out, it wasn't as quite simple as that...

Little did she know that within the next twelve hours, her life would be changed forever.

A/N: I started writing this story in first person POV, but decided that it was much too confusing with all the characters I'm going to be using, so I changed it all back to third person. Maybe next time I'll use first person, when there are less character POVs, since I don't like to go over around maybe five total (and even that would be a stretch).

Chapters will be rather short, and things will get a lot more interesting and action-packed as the story goes on. Thank you for reading, any reviews would be greatly appreciated!

-CCM