Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.
Treven was so screwed.
This had never happened before. Year after year, Treven's routine went something like this: Wake up groggy from her maid's shouts. Shower, dress, and eat breakfast with her little brother. Then spend the rest of the day dilly-dallying around the Capitol until six in the evening. As Head Gamemaker, her arena idea was due at seven. She usually gave herself one hour before presentation time to quickly forge an idea and run some sentences through her head for her speech to make it look like she actually knew what she was talking about. No drafts, no brainstorm.
Of course, if her parents saw her like this, they'd go mad. Treven came from a family of wealthy Capitolites, and more importantly, from a short line of Head Gamemakers. Infamous for their lethal arenas, many other head figures in the Capitol learned to steer clear of the Treven family. After all, the perfect recipe for creating a Treven included a cold heart, a cup of manipulation, and a gallon of deceit. Stir well and you get a devil with a mind clouded with screams, blades, and blood.
First names didn't matter in this family. You were either a he-Treven or a she-Treven. In fact, their legacy was so strong that Treven didn't even remember her own name. Everyone addressed her as "Ms. Treven" or simply "Treven." During the rare times she had used her first name in her teens, many thought it was redundant. It eventually came to the point where she realized she shouldn't waste her breathe making a name for herself in Head Gamemaker business. She was just another Treven, just another branch in her family tree.
Unfortunately for her, she was probably the black sheep. No one knew what sort of thoughts ran through a Treven's mind but that was because Trevens always had a trick up their sleeves.
Not her. Her ideas ran blank. Her head was full of BS. In fact, it was BS every year. One year when she waltzed around the Capitol, she saw a woman eating an apple and immediately blurted out an arena of a farm the minute she rushed into President Snow's office. She knew it was the stupidest idea ever in the history of Panem but the way she talked it up-the mentions of the poisonous fruits, mutated and crawling insects, and harsh wind and rain-one would think the arena was a legacy in of itself.
Of course compared to her parents' and grandparents' arenas, hers looked like a shabby cottage next to a skyscraper. This was why she never bothered to try. She knew she couldn't live up to her elders, why waste effort? She was usually good at thinking on the spot anyway. But this year was different.
Now with only ten minutes left until the moment of truth, all she could think of was toast because that's what she would be if she didn't have something decent soon.
The door of President Snow's office opened. "Ten minutes, Ms. Treven."
She gritted her teeth as the messenger closed the door. As if she needed any reminders.
8 minutes.
Damn that clock's ticking. It was making her nervous.
6 minutes.
She wished her stomach would stop growling.
4 minutes.
Was it possible to build an arena based on toast?
2 minutes.
Probably not. Butter and jam didn't sound intimidating at all.
The door opened again. "Ms. Treven? You are expected."
Heart pounding, Treven did her best to stand without shaking. Images flashed before her eyes: Guillotines. Nightlock berries. A piece of rope carefully settling itself around her neck, the lever pulling, the inevitable grasping for oxygen and fighting for the last few seconds of life-
"Ms. Treven?"
Treven jerked away from her reverie and mumbled an apology before slowly walking inside the office as the messenger excused himself and closed the door.
President Snow shuffled some papers on his desk before turning his gaze towards her.
"Well Ms. Treven, I'm sure you know why we're here. Let's hear it."
"Um..." Treven mumbled intelligently. She did a quick sweep of Snow's desk. Nothing inspirational there. Her eyes shifted towards his bookshelf, scanning the titles. Nope. The guillotines and nightlock berries started making their way into her head again.
"Ms. Treven, I have dinner scheduled in an hour," said President Snow, tapping his fingers on his desk.
"R-right," stuttered Treven, thinking of a way to stall. "This idea I had...it involves...involves..."
Treven's gaze moved to the left of the room where his aquarium resided. Bingo. Treven felt the gears in her head start to spin as her trembling lips broke into a grin.
"It involves water. Lots and lots of water."
President Snow felt his lips curl at Treven's description of mutated sharks and elongated fish that could twist perfectly around a tribute's neck. He nodded when she started to explain the technical issues of oxygen and pressure and how she would make sure the arena wouldn't be a huge advantage for District 4. His eyebrows rose, impressed at the possibilities of underwater volcanoes and quakes and his mind was swimming with so many images, he almost forgot about supper.
Snow quickly cleared his throat. "Thank you, Treven. That will be all."
Treven nodded and started towards the door but not before a small chuckle stopped her dead in her tracks.
"You're lucky I admire piranhas."
Treven quickly stopped a shiver, her back still turned to the president.
"Do not make the same mistakes as your parents and grandparents."
Treven nodded again before continuing towards the door, heart pumping and screaming furiously at her feet to keep a steady pace. Be calm. Be cool. Be collected.
After she exited the room and walked a good few steps away from the door, she rewarded herself by sinking slowly into a chair in the hallway. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Of course he knew. Of course he knew she was a procrastinator. She was probably the laziest Head Gamemaker he'd ever hired.
But she was good. Maybe not as good as her ancestors, but few Gamemakers could even hope to compare to her. The past few Games had proved just that.
Thing is though, she didn't give a damn about her job, or even the Hunger Games for that matter. Heck, she probably wouldn't care if President Snow brought in her brother and have him decapitated right then and there.
But she did give a damn about her life. And when you care about something, the President will definitely put it to good use.
Treven sighed and reached into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. Smoothing it out gently, she consulted the tribute list, carefully reading each name.
District 1 (Luxury)
Male: Marble Monarch (17)
Female: Chanel Plush (18)
District 2 (Masonry)
Male: Scott Varick (18)
Female: Clymene Maurer (18)
District 3 (Technology)
Male: Rick Corr (15)
Female: Digital Jones (13)
District 4 (Fishing)
Male: Myure Trennor (17)
Female: Leau Spencer (16)
District 5 (Power)
Male: Connor "Chance" Knox (18)
Female: Jayden Keynes (15)
District 6 (Transportation)
Male: Rosh Tully (12)
Female: Cassiopeia "Cass" Garner (17)
District 7 (Lumber)
Male: Linden Woodloft (17)
Female: Ivy Terra (16)
District 8 (Textiles)
Male: Justin Sinclair (18)
Female: Calico Cambrie (16)
District 9 (Grain)
Male: Mortimer "Morty" Drake (15)
Female: Melissa "Melly" Maize (12)
District 10 (Livestock)
Male: Xerath Gosses (14)
Female: Amabel Linnet (15)
District 11 (Agriculture)
Male: Lucian Gray (13)
Female: Rose-Mary Telesco (13)
District 12 (Mining)
Male: Colton Burnet (17)
Female: Azolla "Zee" Caster (16)
Just another year. Just another game. Just another routine of BS and impress. And she sure hoped the tributes could impress.
Hope you liked the prologue! I'd love it if you guys could answer some of the questions I have for you at the end of the chapter. (But of course, it's not mandatory).
What do you think of the arena?
What do you think of the Head Gamemaker?
How was my writing?
Submit tributes by PM ONLY. Submitted tributes in a review will not be accepted and will put this story in danger for deletion. Sorry to those who don't have accounts.
Tribute form and rules are on my profile. The tribute list will be updated periodically. If I haven't responded to your PM or if your tribute's name is not on the list, it means that I'm either waiting for the reserved tribute or I'm still in the middle of making my decision.
I will be having one of my own tributes in this story. In the end I decided to scrap my original tribute "Kit" because she's already in another SYOT and there was really no point (save for some small differences) in writing her again. Thus, the District 3 female spot is now open. But of course, that still doesn't mean my tribute is going to win. Don't let that deter you from submitting.
Note for future chapters: This is the Hunger Games. There will be violence and at some points, harsh language. I refrained from the latter here, but you can expect some in later chapters. So please don't call me out on it.
Happy submitting! Looking forward to receiving your tributes!