(Based before when the books are set.)
*The Reaping*
There was complete silence as the whole of District 12 formed in the square. Effie Trinket was stood at the podium, smiling down merrily at the crowd.
"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds ever be in your favour!"
She's greeted by stone cold silence as she repeats the same words she'd been declaring for the last thirteen years at least. Effie stands awkwardly at the front for a moment before clearing her throat and stepping over to the first bowl.
"Ladies first!" she announces as she reached her hand into the bowl. The air is tense and there's a deafening silence. After an intake of breath from a few crowd members, she pulls out her hand, unfolding the delicate paper. The contrast of the creaminess and innocence of the paper, and whomever's name is written on it, clashes with the blood red colour of Effie's nails.
She holds the paper up higher and speaks clearly and cheerfully into the microphone.
"Pandora May Elizabeth Granger-Miller!"
Silence.
Effie's eyes are scattering the crowd, as are the Peacekeepers, the Mayors and the silver eyes of the Victor who won the game three years back.
I take a sharp intake of breath before stepping up onto the podium, in front of the bowl of names.
Effie quickly moves over to the bowl of boys names and again, she pulls out a piece of paper.
Her eyes widen and she takes in a quiet gasp, before stepping back to the microphone and declaring in a shaken voice, "Ryan Jefferson Granger-Miller."
The crowd gasped and ripples of whispers and shouts of denial echoed around the square.
They're not happy about this.
I watch as the Victor leans forward in his chair as soon to make sure he can get a look at Ryan. His piercing eyes catch mine and I look away quickly, linking eyes with my brother instead as he mounts the podium.
He smiles at me, but no hint of happiness reaches his eyes. We know. One of us, if not both, will die in the arena.
And the odds are pointing towards me.
Ryan's got strength and power, whereas I have nothing that's of use in the games. There are cries of denial erupting from the crowd. They know too. And with both of us gone, things will never be the same for the most part.
It's the people from the Seam who seem most affected, sobbing in each others arms.
But no one else will volunteer.
Things will be different for them all now. Usually, after a reaping, everyone will go back to normal, as if they had never met those who had been picked. That's another reason everyone hated the games. You were then an outcast to the rest of the District, unless you came back alive, and the odds were one in twenty four.
This time, they can't pretend they'd never met us… or that they didn't know who we were.
The Hob would be silent. Ryan and I used to play live music there every night. Not for scraps, or the money, but for the fun of it, and as an attempt to lighten the mood and bring a smile to the faces of those who couldn't even afford a slice of break from the Mellark's Bakery.
People used to love the music we wrote. Ryan usually played the guitar our father had made when Ryan and I were first born. Ryan was born with the gift of being quick and nimble, especially with his hands, and I was born with the talent of a strong, varied singing voice.
Ryan would play, and I would sing. That was how it worked every night down at the Hob. There were sometimes theme nights, and those were always the biggest, nights where we played songs about specific things.
But now the Hob would be quieter than ever, a constant reminder of the lack of the fifteen year old Granger-Miller twins, with the hands and voice and talent of two angels.
Maybe the Capitol had set this up… Maybe they wanted the two of us pulled away from our homes… Playing live music could be illegal for all we know, but no one had told us anything about it… but maybe it was illegal to play the music we played sometimes, where we sang about our hatred for the Capitol.
Maybe this was our punishment…
Gun shots echoed around the square and the cries stopped instantly, afraid of the consequences if they didn't.
I reached my hand out to clasp Ryan's and he squeezes my fingers in a calming gesture, but it doesn't work.
I have no chance.
*Saying Goodbye*
The Victor seemed distant towards me. He hardly looked in my direction, instead focusing on Ryan, analysing every part of him as if checking a pig for slaughter.
They placed us both in separate rooms to allow different visitors to come and see the two of us.
"What's the point?" we'd asked, "We're just going to have the same people visit us anyway."
Why would you tear this family apart more than you had already?
My mother came in to see me first, cradling me in her lap as I sobbed into her shoulder.
We didn't really talk for the five minutes of privacy she was allowed with me, but in the last sixty seconds, she let me go, and reached behind her neck, unclasped her necklace, and refastened it around my own.
"A family heirloom." She whispered, kissing my forehead, "Good luck out there, and baby, please don't tell your father about the necklace." She winked and pulled me into another hug again, before the Peacekeepers entered and led her away.
I looked down at the necklace and ran my finger around the delicate metal of the heart that hung from a small clasp. It was warm to the touch, and I felt more alive than ever when I ran my fingers over the points.
The door rattled again, and I braced myself for my father's entrance.
He walked in calmly, and thanked the Peacekeepers as they shut the door behind him. He then stood, watching me for a few minutes, as if he was going to miss me, but I knew better.
When he was sure the Peacekeepers were out of earshot, he stormed towards me.
"You!" he hissed, "You'd better make sure your brother comes back alive instead of you! If you return with him in a box, I will slaughter you and your mother myself!"
By now, he had his hands on my throat, shaking me as he lifted me into the air and slammed me against the wall.
I gasped at the impact and whimpered when his hands tightened at the opportune moment, preventing me from taking in any air. If he didn't let go soon, I wouldn't even make it into the games.
He seemed to figure that out just as quickly and dropped me to the floor.
"Do you understand me?" He growled. I whimpered and nodded, attempting to curl my self up into the foetus position.
He kicked his foot out, connecting with my abdomen. "For good measure."
He turned swiftly and stormed out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.
I lay on the ground, gasping and shaking all over. My neck was throbbing, and my stomach felt like it was about to turn inside out. I gagged slightly, but nothing rose up.
I closed my eyes and lay my head back down, onto the floor, hoping sleep, or death, would overcome me, though I know my injuries were no where near severe enough to cause me death.
"Andy?"
I tensed up and bit my tongue in an attempt to muffle the sob that erupted from my chest. I rubbed my stomach lightly, and whispered the lyrics to 'Revenge Of The Fallen', a song that Ryan and I had written in our hatred for the Capitol.
I heard the door swing open, and the sound of an older man gasping, but I kept my head down, ignoring everything in an attempt to keep myself awake, whispering all of the lyrics to all of the songs we'd written, and keeping me from bursting into hysterics and running away.
"Abandoned in the jungle."
"Andy?"
"Bodies broken, bodies worn."
"Andy?" A broken whisper.
"Now we will keep on marching."
"Sis?"
"And rising through the storm."
Two sets of footsteps approached me.
"You can try and fight it, you can start a war."
A set of hands wiped away the tears that had been streaming down my face and settled my head in their lap. I breathed in the comforting scent I recognised from Ryan, and took in a deep breath.
"But we all know exactly what we're fighting for."
A set of hands straightened my legs out and lifted my shirt slightly.
"You might not like what you think you see."
A pair of hands brushed lightly on the patch on my stomach and I sucked in a pained gasp.
"But I will fight for the fallen three."
"Oh my God." A broken voice.
"And for their broken family."
The hands were pulled away and the sound of footsteps storming quickly out of the room.
"The Revenge of the Fallen and the love from the three."
"Andy?"
I stayed silent.
"Andy, please, open your eyes."
I blinked them open. I had to. My heart was breaking from the sadness in his voice, and I couldn't bear to put him in such misery. My eyes connected with his identical brown ones, both glossy with tears.
"What did he do to you?" he whispered.
"One for good luck," I chocked out, attempting a smile. Ryan tried to send my one back, but couldn't manage it. I pulled myself up into a sitting position and hugged him. "You're going to be fine, Ryan."
"You're going to win, Andy, you have to."
"Then who's going to protect Mom?" I whispered, curling further into his arms, wincing as I moved my stomach.
"You coul-"
"I can't Ryan; you're always the one who protected her."
He was silent. He knew I was right, but didn't want me to be.
We sat in silence for a while, just treasuring the last few moments we had together as brother and sister, instead of two killing machines, and without the Capitol watching our every move.
A few moments later and the door swung open. The Victor walked in slowly and carefully with Effie and another Peacekeeper. Ryan helped me to my feet and we automatically stood in front of them. The Victor stepped forward slightly, holding out a hand for Ryan to shake, then picking up my hand and kissing the palm.
My heart fluttered and butterflies made an appearance in my battered stomach.
He stepped back into the centre opposite us and smiled brightly.
"So sorry I haven't introduced myself to you yet, I was working out your chances."
We both smiled and shuffled around on our feet.
"So, Ryan and Pandora-"
"Andy," Ryan interrupted, "Everyone calls her Andy."
"Andy, then. Ryan and Andy Granger-Miller. I am the District Twelve Victor, unless one of you two wins, which I hope you do." He smirked, "Draco Malfoy, at your service."
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