Disclaimer: I don't own Hunger Games or Lorien Legacies…
Hi guys!
Thank you all so much for the incredible reviews! I can't believe there are 92 reviews already for this story and I'm really grateful to everyone who's reviewed this story. Thank you all so much!
There are still lots of questions about pairings. Because I want to keep this story as close to the books as possible, John/Sarah is quite possible for the meantime but it doesn't mean it will stay that way…
Also, a lot of people are asking whether Marina or Maren is Katniss. They both are. I used aspects of Katniss for both of them, so Marina uses the bow and arrow but Maren is a natural hunter and she can fight. And this story is centered around the boys (Stanley, John) as much as it is around the girls.
Hope that helps and please read on!
Chapter 6 – The Games have begun
11 months later
Marina
Breathe in… breathe out.
My body is as tight and unmoving as a rock. My arm is drawn back, the string pressed tightly against my cheek. The target stands 40 metres in front of me, something I've never managed to hit accurately before.
I take in another deep breath and shut everything around me. I focus on the target and nothing else whilst trying to calm my mind. Nothing else matters but this.
I release the arrow and watch as it cuts through the air quickly before slamming into the target. Right in the centre of the target. Right where the heart of a mog would be.
I whoop in joy, relaxed at once at my victory. I know in the arena my targets will actually be moving so I've been practicing targets that are closer to me but move as well. But this is the first time I've hit something so far away from me.
I run over to the target, beaming in pride as I examine my work. It's right in the centre of the heart, as though someone spent ages trying to find the exact middle. I tug it out; grinning when I realize the arrow is quite deep into the 'heart' as well.
My confidence renewed, I go onto my favourite stand of the training hall. It throws moving objects out and I have to shoot at them. I select a medium-hard range and begin to relax into my favourite pastime. Arm, aim, shoot. It's repetitive but satisfying work.
It took me a while to learn how to shoot. I'd had to read a few instruction manuals before I got the idea. And then once I had the technique down, I'd spent hours and hours just doing simple shooting. I've spent about 8 hours a day in this training hall dedicated to shooting.
And as boastful as this sounds, I'm quite good at shooting now.
The stand stops shooting out the objects and I look at them on the floor assessing how many I shot and how many I didn't. 18/20. Not perfect but for someone who couldn't even pick up a bow properly eleven months ago it's amazing.
"Well done" Adelina stands by the doorway, her face framed in shadow. I spin around in shock since I didn't even know she was in here. Once the shock wears off, I swallow uncomfortably; she's never been in here since I've been here and she's never seen me shoot. I didn't even know if she knew I could.
"I've been practicing" I reply, plucking the arrows out of the objects and putting them in the quiver. With an efficiency I've learned over the months, I quickly wrap my arrow up in the right equipment before shutting the hall down.
I join Adelina by the stairs and I see guilt on her face for the first time in months. I don't know what she's going to say and I don't want to hear it. Relations between us are strained. I thought she might eventually relent and help me train but she never did once. And that hurts more than anything.
"I'm sorry" she finally says. I know at once she's going to say how good I could have been if she trained me so I stop her with a raised hand. I don't want to hear it, don't want to be induced into a panic right now. I want to enjoy my victory, my progress with the bow and arrow.
"It's fine" I say. "I may not be the best but I'm certainly better than I used to be" I pretend to be confident as I sweep past her and up the stairs. She never follows me, probably too nervous or guilty.
When I'm in my room, my confident façade cracks and I sink down onto the bed. Despite all the practice I've put in I know I'm nowhere as good as the mogs. They'll have bludgeons and spears and other vulgar weapons. Once my arrows have run out (and what if they don't have a bow?!) then I'm dead.
The truth is, I do blame Adelina. I might fool myself by saying that the past 11 months have been the best in my life. I've gotten to practice what I love whenever I want. I've eaten some of the best food and lived in luxury.
But it's all a lie. I've seen some kids in the Village and they are lethal. There's the one boy, called Stanley, who's become famous along this street. Beastly is probably the word to describe him. I haven't actually met him but I've heard he's deadly and will certainly be here until the end.
And if the Loric are like this after a year, what are the mogs like?
I put my head in my hands; glad my palms are cold against my heated foreheads. I smile as my cool palms ease the stress headache that was starting to build. I just have to convince myself that I can do this.
You can use the bow and arrow. You have legacies. You can survive.
I know there's only one cure for the bleak state I'm in at the moment. I go over to my window and crank it open, before using telekinesis to lower myself to the ground. I've got over an hour to dinner but Adelina never lets me out of the house unless it's for my run.
I use the bushes along the fence to hide myself from the windows of the house. Adelina's not standing by one and I breathe a sigh of relief; sometimes I have to wait for ages until it's clear for me to go. I look at the house once more before walking quickly across the road and heading to the house opposite.
It's Ella's house. She and I became strong friends about three months ago. She'd been training in her garden and I'd been watching her from my front garden as I'd been reading. I'd looked down for only a few seconds but then I'd heard her scream; a scream filled with so much pain it had filled my eyes with tears. She'd fallen out of a tree and broken her leg.
It was so bad bones were poking out of her leg.
I'd reacted at once. I'd been racing over there and healing her without thinking, without hesitation. I just didn't want to think of her being hurt. By the time her Mentor, Crayton, had run out she was perfectly fine and hugging me gratefully.
We'd become best friends after that.
I slip into the back garden of her house and smile when I see her and Crayton lying on the grass next to each other, reading. She calls him Papa and their bond is just so special to see, even though they've only known each other for a year. I clear my throat quietly but she turns around at once, grinning when she sees me.
"Marina!" she calls eagerly, running over and throwing herself at me in a hug. I swing her around before setting her down on the ground, giggling. It's been a few days since we last saw each other, as we've both been so busy.
"I'm not interrupting am I?" I ask softly. She shakes her head at once, grabbing my hand and pulling me to Crayton. I look down at her book and see she wasn't reading at all, she was drawing a picture. I look closer, interested; she's a fantastic artist and it's always a treat seeing her drawings.
It's of me, sitting in the apple tree in her garden. I'm smiling and eating an apple, my hand held out in protest to Ella. She'd taken a picture of me that day but I hadn't realised it was so she could draw the picture of me.
"It's beautiful" I tell her, settling down next to her. "Although I think you made me look prettier than I am" I tease her and she giggles. Crayton grins at me, before turning back to his own book.
Ella's face suddenly lights up. "I made another one for you yesterday" she jumps up and runs back to the house, a happy ball of energy.
Crayton looks at her sadly and then puts his book down. His face is serious as we look at each other for a long time. We don't want the girl we care about so much to get killed. We like each other but it's clear the girl in the middle is far more important than the other.
"I'll ally with her, keep her safe" I say at last. Crayton knows I can shoot; in fact he's helped me once or twice. Seeing other volunteers in the Village is legal so if anyone were to investigate we could just say I was inside, playing with Ella, instead of training with Crayton.
Because that is illegal.
"Thank you" Crayton's face relaxes a little and I swell with pride. He clearly trusts me enough to look after Ella. "She can get the food, she's a clever little thing" he adds, as if trying to persuade me. He doesn't have to, there's no one else I'd rather ally with.
"I won't let the mogs touch her" I vow. He nods and is about to say something further when Ella hurtles out of the house, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. She must know that in a week we'll be in the Capital but right now she's so young and carefree.
"Look!" she shows me the picture and it's of me again, leaning out of my window in my house. I look sad, something I feel every day. She clambers onto my lap, using her legacy to turn into a tiny seven year old, and I kiss her hair softly.
"Thank you El" I whisper. "It's beautiful, like all your drawings" she beams with pride and links her tiny hand in mine. She looks up at me, her brown eyes huge and pleased.
"Don't be sad" she smiles. "We'll be allies in the arena and then we can draw together again in the trees" her gentle innocence makes me smile as I squeeze her hand.
I suddenly realize that my job in the arena isn't for me to live after all. I have something much more important to do. It's to help Ella survive and come back to Crayton, where they can draw pictures all day. Where she can be happy with her Papa.
"Allies forever" I promise, sealing the deal with a kiss on her forehead.
Xxx
Maren
One week left. One week to go and then I'll be out of here, shipped to the Capital for the mogs' entertainment. Just one week and then I may never see Katarina again. One week and I may never been get out of the mogs' hands alive.
I shake my head angrily. I shouldn't think like that, not when I've been doing so well since I've been here. My training has gone from strength to strength and I know I'm one of the best. I can scale trees in a heartbeat; use telekinesis to shoot at targets whilst fighting in hand-to-hand combat and my abilities with the sword is daunting.
There are some people who have far more reason to be nervous in comparison to me. The boy next door, Sam, may be a nice guy but he is no survivor. I know this, he knows it, but we don't say anything out loud. What's the point?
I'm pacing in the house, bored after training. It was the same as usual, me defeating all the obstacles Katarina threw at me. I didn't even break a sweat.
Yet despite my everyday victories in the training hall, I can't help but think of the mogs. How they'll be so much better than I could ever wish to be. How they'll be able to do what I can do but more. How I pale in significance next to them.
The familiar feeling of panic settles me. It's one I've had since I learned to hunt and was the main breadwinner for my family. It's the fear of not being to cope with the pressure of looking after yourself and everyone else. It's the fear of being caught any minute.
Except it's even worse now. It's the fear of being killed any minute. But there's no escaping this nightmare. In a week's time it'll be my reality.
I head to the front door, grabbing my jacket. I need to get out, get to fresh air. Katarina must sense something's wrong when she sees me hurrying from the house and she appears in the kitchen doorway.
"Maren? What's-?" she goes to say but I'm out of the front door in seconds. She calls my name again, desperately, but I'm sprinting away.
I sprint towards the very edge of the village, where I can see the wilderness in the distance. I don't know if the mogs are watching; if they'll see me running towards the bare countryside. If they do, I'm sure I'll be caught before I can get too far.
I make it past the last house, still feeling claustrophobic. I've never needed to be back home and in the woods as much as I do now. I crave the feeling of safety and security that I know I'll get in the woods.
I stop my light jog, looking back to see the houses five minutes from me. If the mogs have been alerted to my missing presence, nothing's happening. Or maybe they know I won't really go because then they'll take it out on my family.
I settle down on the ground, the fresh air relaxing me. I never realised how uptight I've been and how much I've needed this break. How desperate I've been to be free from the reins of Katarina. I love her but she's a slave driver when it comes to my training.
"This is technically illegal" I look behind me to see a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes, dresses in workout clothes watching me. His mentor stands a few paces behind and I realise that's why I was never chased by the mogs. They knew this mentor and tribute would take care of me, would follow me.
"Then you better hurry back before they punish you" my voice is biting and nasty. I don't recognise it as mine. The boy doesn't seem to mind at all, in fact he sits down next to me and I watch as his Mentor backs up some more so he can't hear us.
"I remember you" the boy says softly, a sad smile on his face. "We talked a bit on the ship bringing us here" he says. I frown and then nod, barely remembering exchanging the few words with him.
Truth is, I can't remember this boy and I don't think he really remembers me. Maybe he's just trying to be polite.
"I'm John" he holds his hand and I eye it suspiciously. He rolls his hands and puts it in his lap.
"We're not enemies" he says gently. "We're the same race and fighting for the same thing" he carries on. I frown as we both look out into the distance. I see rolling hills, small towns dotted here and there. I can see dark shadows where woods would be and in the far distance, the mountains looming over everything.
"Doesn't matter" I say roughly. "You'll probably be dead within a week anyway" I say cruelly. I expect him to react, to hurl vicious comments at me but he simply chuckles. He rests his elbows on his knees as he looks out at the same view as me.
I wonder if he sees it as a haven or unknown territory.
"Probably" he says ruefully. I can feel him looking at me through his eyelashes and I meet his gaze, not embarrassed like some people would be. Our gazes lock and I notice what a deep blue his eyes are. They're kind of beautiful.
"But if you head over there, you'll be dead in an hour" he breaks our stare and looks away, into the distance. His face looks wistful as he gazes out at Lorien. Even miserable, it's still a beautiful planet.
"No I won't" I boast. "I can hunt and I can fight. I'd survive" I reply. John snorts and raises an eyebrow at me.
"I have no doubt you could. But you know I wasn't talking about that. I was talking about the mogs catching up to you" he replies. I sigh and look down at my hands. They're covered in callouses and scars but I like them just as they are. They remind me of the hardships I've overcome.
"And they'd kill your family" he adds. I sigh in annoyance and I can see him try to hide his grin.
"I know, I know…there's no problem with dreaming" I retort. He chuckles gently and I find that unlike most people, it doesn't rub me up the wrong way. If anyone acted like this kid they would have gotten a punch by now.
Maybe it's because he's not smug that he's right. Maybe it's because he seems like a really nice guy and wouldn't boast about his victory. But I think that the reason I'm not annoyed with him is because he really does care about me.
It's not in a pathetic lovey-dovey way or anything like that, after all he barely knows me. But he cares because we're the same race and we're going through the same thing. He cares because he doesn't want to see someone suffer more than necessary.
"You know, you never even told me your name" he finally says. I smile, a tiny smile but one all the same. I look to the ground, some hair falling out from behind my ear.
"Maren" I reply. "My name's Maren Elizabeth" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise and I see amusement in his blue eyes.
"I would have thought of something much more badass for you" he chuckles. I roll my eyes in exasperation, causing a cheeky grin to stretch across his face. It's an infectious grin, one that makes me smile too.
"Why does everyone say that?" I groan. I hear an annoyed sigh behind me and we both turn to see his Mentor on his phone, looking agitated. He keeps shooting urgent looks at both of us.
"Let's go back" John encourages, smiling gently at me. "We can't stay out here forever because they'll bring the armed squad in. Henri's barely keeping them back as it is"
"Thanks John" I finally say as I get up, offering him my hand. He takes it and I pull him up with ease. I stare sadly, regretfully, at the countryside one more time before turning away.
"Lucky we were doing outdoor training" his mentor says, a little agitated. "You would have been blown to pieces by now if not for our 'mature presence'" his lips twitch at the phrase and I bet he's been trying to persuade mog generals not to kill me.
"An overreaction, isn't it?" I reply. The Mentor's eyebrows shoot up at once at that and John looks serious.
"Trying to escape before the Games is a criminal offence" the Mentor says seriously. "If you had gone 100 more metres, you would be dead and one of your younger family members would be taking your place…without any training" he tells me.
I freeze, panic creeping through my veins. I didn't realise what I had done was that bad. I thought it had been obvious I wasn't going anywhere but apparently the mogs take these things very seriously.
I make it back to the Village and shiver when I see a group of soldier mogs. They grimace at me as they grip my arms and I begin to fight back, not sure what they're doing. Are they going to kill me anyway?
"Don't fight! They're taking you back home!" the boy calls as he and his mentor walk back to their house. A few mogs trail them but don't touch them. Whereas I'm grabbed and hauled back to my house.
I don't struggle as I'm dragged past every mansion. I try not to let the humiliation get to me and I hold my head high as I march past the houses. I see tributes'' faces peering out of windows and I look away, ashamed to wonder what they think of me. They must be wondering why I'm such a coward.
"Stay here!" they order me as they deposit me back in my house. Katarina drags me inside, shouting at me, telling me how stupid I was. I'm not listening though because all I can think about is the pure hatred on their faces.
I'm going to be a target in the arena. Because of my stupid mistake just now, they're going to try and kill me as quickly as possible. I realise I'm shaking when Katarina sits me down, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders and pressing a mug of warm tea in my hands. But I feel cold and dead and scared. So, so scared.
What have I done?
Xxx
Adam
Ivan strolls into the room, a huge glare on his face. If possible, he's gained more muscle and a bigger ego over the course of the year. He walks around thinking he's already been given the award for 'Soldier of the Games', a special award for the mog that kills the most and pleases the audience the most.
He clears his throat and just to irritate him, I keep my head down and carry on writing out the report we have to do for the Games before we go in. It's all about the best way to survive a Loric attack, using battle technique and so on. Not exciting stuff but it has to be done.
"Ahem" Ivan coughs again and I look up with a calm smile. He looks annoyed and I wonder if he's really pissed that I didn't look up at once. But his agitated pacing across the room tells me it's something more than that.
"What?" I ask politely. I don't want to deal with an angry Ivan having a go at me over manners. Ivan scowls as he throws his huge body down on a nearby sofa and I can almost imagine it groaning under his weight.
"We have a problem" he almost snarls. I put my pen down and cross my arms calmly. The smallest things usually wind up Ivan and then it's my job to calm him down.
"What's wrong? Are we chucked out of the Games?" I ask, pretending to be worried. I know it's impossible but Ivan's anger must be directed towards the Games. Nothing else has mattered to him for a year, not even Dannika, the mog girl he's sleeping with.
"No" Ivan snorts, looking almost baffled, as if the thought is too confusing for him. "No, of course not" he adds. I smile calmly and then pick up the pen again.
"Then what is the problem?" I ask, trying not to laugh. Ivan's apparently just wound himself up into a mess and I'll sort it out, as usual.
"It's a fucking forest" Ivan thunders towards me and slaps down a map on the table. "A forest and a lake and a weird field!"
I look closely and see the dome shaped layout of the arena for this year. Most of it is covered in forest, but there's also space for a lake and a field, kind of a wheat field by the looks of it. It must be huge to fit so many things in.
"Why are you complaining about that?" I ask, confused. This is one of the best arenas I've seen, that's for sure. Some of them have been pretty lethal and it's been a battle even for our race to survive.
"You can't hunt them out so easily in a forest!" Ivan yells angrily. I look at the vast empty space surrounding the cornucopia thoughtfully; there's plenty of space for a bloodbath.
At the beginning of every Games, the Loric wait 60 seconds on a disk thing surrounding the cornucopia in a circle so that they can get to grips with their surroundings before the gong goes. Around the circle of Loric, is a circle of mogs. We have to wait on our disks for an extra 30 seconds to give the Loric a small advantage.
"Well, think about it" I say smoothly. "There's a lake for water, which is great for us. And you know the Gamemakers will make sure we're the ones to kill the Loric, not nature or their stupidity. We'll get loads of them to kill"
Ivan's face clears up at the name of the Gamemakers. Knowing him, he forgot about the most important part of the Games. He sighs and then sits down in a nearby chair, looking oddly exhausted.
"What else is bothering you?" I ask, concerned for my brother. He may be simple but in the arena he'll be my greatest ally against the Loric.
Ivan sighs and looks at his hands. "I don't wanna look stupid in front of everyone. My interview wasn't so good" he mutters. I try to look supportive but I can understand why he's worried. Ivan really isn't smart at all.
The interviews happen every year for the Games. A famous mog citizen, Caesar Flickerman, acts as presenter and he interviews every mog and Loric taking part. Us mogs have had them done already as we live in the Capital all year round and besides, 60 faces to remember would be impossible for the mog citizens.
The Loric come into the Capital next week for their interviews. It's very theatrical; they have an opening parade and then an interview before they have a final training session with us. I can't wait to psych out the weak ones.
"It'll be fine" I reassure him. "They edit it to make you look extra good" I praise him. He grins and then crosses his arms, looking a lot better.
"Thanks Adam" he grins. "I'll have your back in the arena cos you always have mine" it's quite touching that statement and I grin, holding up his completed report for the Games.
"Your report's been done. I made sure to put in grammar and spelling mistakes" I laugh. Ivan grins at once and takes it from me, his eyes scanning over it. He can't be reading it though; he's a slow reader.
Don't get me wrong. I'm making Ivan out to be really stupid. But when it comes to fighting and killing and battle techniques, Ivan is the best. He is lethal and determined. If there's a fighting problem that needs solving, Ivan's your man.
Which is why he's so popular amongst the leaders of our race, because he has great potential to be a general one day.
His mobile communicator bleeps next to him and he looks at the screen quickly before scowling. He types a swift reply before dropping it.
"Dannika?" I ask at once. Ivan nods and sighs, rubbing his face.
"You have no idea what a pain she is" he grumbles. "She wants a long-term commitment and all that shit, but I'm going to be in the Games soon" he grins at me. "I'll be killing and training and fighting. I don't have time for her"
I feel a bit sorry for Dannika. That's what happens when you end up to be one of Ivan's girlfriends. He sleeps with them for a while until he moves on. And it looks like he's about to move on.
"Then end it with her" I shrug, turning back to my papers. I always feel a bit embarrassed when we talk about his girls because I've never had a girlfriend. I haven't even been kissed.
"You know what girls are like, it's not that simple" Ivan scoffs. I don't reply and carry on with my writing, hoping Ivan gets the message. Surprisingly he does and he gets up, sighing heavily.
"Thanks for talking, dude. I owe you one" he pats my shoulder before leaving the room whistling. I smirk as the door shuts, back in peace and quiet again.
Truth is, I'm worried too. Not about the arena, no that looks great, but about everything else. I'm worried about the reports coming from the tributes Village, about the Loric children who are a lot stronger than normal. Nobody has ever been as strong as these guys are this year and that worries me.
What does that mean for us mogs?
Something else is also bothering me. There's been a change in Lorien. Ever since the last Games when there were only two victors, a very low number, the Loric have been looking at us with open hatred. That's not rare but the thinly veiled anger is. They're usually too scared to look at us like that.
I shiver as I continue on with my writing. This should be the best time of my life coming up but I want them over as quickly as possible so that everything can get back to normal.
Unfortunately, I couldn't be more wrong.
Hope you enjoyed! I can't say how weird it is to write Adam as evil...I can't wait for that to change :P
Please review :D
