Angus Tanner (Former District 10 Mentor & Victor of the 43rd Hunger Games)

I used to love watching the first sunrise of spring when I was a kid. It was a strange and almost mystical time of year when everything lined up just right to let me peek behind the veil of magic that separates our world from the mystical world. It was easily the most fun and magical day of my year and the one I looked forward to the most.

I would get up early on that day, wrap both of my little sisters in as many warm blankets as I could find, and then carry each of them up to the roof of the barn so we could be the first ones in our district to greet the new season.

We would sit there and watch excitedly as the sun slowly peeked over the horizon, the first rays of light knifing effortlessly through the icy morning mist. Refracting through the icicles hanging from the branches of the cherry trees surrounding our home and creating a spectacular little light show for us to ooh and aah at before peaking fully and wrapping us in its warm embrace. Then I would carry them back down to the house and share my entire year's worth of sweet rations before we headed off to school or work.

Those were the most important and magical moments of my childhood, and I always sort of assumed they would stay that way forever. Then I won the Hunger Games. In the blink of an eye, everything I used to love about that day became a constant reminder of just how naïve I had been to see such childlike beauty in a world full of pain and suffering. Both of which I was now responsible for helping to spread.

So I did the only thing I could, I forced myself to bury all of the happy memories from my childhood so they wouldn't be crushed by the mountain of awful memories I added over my years as a mentor. And, to spare my family and friends from having to deal with my newfound bitterness, as well as the dark realities of what I had to do as a mentor, I started to cut myself off from them so that I could get myself into mentor mode without hurting them. And, as my rotten luck would have it, the first thaw of spring, the day I would wake up early so I could enjoy the sunrise with my little sisters, became the day each year I had to start doing it.

And so I started a new and much less enjoyable ritual. On the first day of spring, as the snows were beginning to melt, the streams started to flow, the flowers started to bloom, the cherry trees started to blossom, and the livestock started giving birth to their young, I would begin the process of preparing myself mentally, emotionally, and physically for yet another soul-crushing journey to the Capitol. A pilgrimage I was forced to make, once a year, every year, for fifty-six gut-wrenching years.

It was easy enough at first, all I had to do was cut off all contact with the few friends I still had, which was super easy once I realized that most of my former friends were either terrified of me or trying to mooch off me. Then, when I got married, I had to withdraw from my wife. Then we had kids, and I had to start ignoring them, which is second only to having to do the same with my grandchildren on the list of hardest things I've had to do in my life. And I did all of that so that I could spend the last month or so before the reapings silently dreading my trip to the Capitol.

Not that starting that trip made anything better mind you. Because as soon as I set foot on the train to the Capitol, I knew I had a very limited amount of time to do the impossible. Find a way to convince an understandably terrified teenager, who had just had their world turned upside down and was now stuck with me as their mentor, to set aside their fears and work with me to come up with a plan to save their life. And I could never get it done.

I, for one reason or another, was never able to mentor a victor. I had fifty-six years and the advice of an amazing and relatively successful partner to figure out the secret, but I never did. To be honest, I never even really got close.

All three of the District Ten victors who came after me, Dusk, Fern, and Hunter, were mentored by my mentor, Mazie. An absolutely remarkable woman with an unbreakable spirit and a knack for getting her tributes to dig deeper and try harder than they thought they could. And her death during the Victory Tour celebrating Dusk's victory in the Eightieth Hunger Games destroyed District Ten and elevated me to the unenviable position of senior mentor for the district.

And that's when everything really went to hell. Dusk was still a rookie, Hunter was still relatively green and an emotional wreck and Fern had three kids to take care of and no support outside of my wife, who was busy taking care of our family and making sure Hunter didn't hurt himself. I had no idea what I was doing, and none of the others were anywhere near capable of covering for me the way Mazie had. And my lack of ability combined with our lack of cohesion showed in our tributes.

In nineteen years as the head mentor, I only managed to get a grand total of four tributes past the bloodbath. Of those four only two managed to get past the first day and only one of them managed to finish in the top half. And I only managed to pull that off because it was the first games after Dusk's win and Mazie's death, which helped me secure support from sponsors who wouldn't normally give a sponsor seeking mentor from District Ten the time day, let alone actually sponsor one of our tributes.

Not all of the failures were my fault. Over the years I have had more than my fair share of tributes who had no interest in doing anything that might have helped me help them. Some gave up on life the second their name was called during the reaping, which is super relatable for me because it's what almost did when I was reaped. Some got discouraged after they saw just how much more talented the other tributes were than them during training and just stopped trying.

Some volunteered for the games to escape their own horrors at home with no intention of winning and being forced to go back to them. Some volunteered because they knew they could live like a king or queen for a week before committing suicide by career. And some just flat out refused to waste their last few precious days on Earth training to kill someone they didn't even know because someone else they didn't know and didn't particularly like, told them they had to.

And then there are the ones who genuinely tried. The ones who, for one reason or another, actually wanted to win. And who did everything they could to try to help me help them do the impossible. And, except for Dusk, Fern, and Hunter, who owe their survival more to Mazie than they do me, all of them met the same fate as the tributes who didn't try. A quick but still painful and unnecessary death in the arena. All while people who claimed to love them cheered at their suffering.

Being a mentor has been a living hell, and as a result, I have been a disaster as a mentor and a total trainwreck as a head mentor. And don't even get me started on how bad a husband, father, and grandfather I've been.

But I don't have to be a mentor anymore. I can finally go back to being Angus the man, and start being the husband, the father, and friend I've never had the chance to be.

Because two weeks ago today, a President I have yet to meet, and if I'm lucky will only have to meet once, gave me the best gift a man like him could ever give me. The gift of mercy.

I may not entirely trust his reasons for giving my fellow mentors and me this gift, and I obviously don't, and can't, trust his motives, but I would have to be an absolute moron not to take it anyway. After all, I'm not going to live forever. And after spending most of my life helping to spread pain and suffering to the four corners of Panem, it would be nice to spend whatever time I have left spreading a little magic and happiness. Even if it is just to my family and the few people in Ten who will still associate with me.

I think I've earned that. After everything I've done, everything I've been forced to do, all the children I had to watch march off to their deaths in the arena, I've earned the right to enjoy what little time I have left. I've earned the right to retire in peace and enjoy all the little things I haven't allowed myself to enjoy in far too long.

And I'm going to start by sharing the first sunrise of spring with my grandchildren. I just hope it's still half as magical as it was when I was a kid.

A/N: And so closes chapter 4. I hope everyone enjoyed this little sneak peek inside the mind of one of Panem's older living Victors. I thought it was important to take a look at how some of the previous Champions viewed the changes President Ashwood made, so I have at least one more of these planned, but I could end up with a couple more. I'm also planning on doing one or two that show how the escorts are reacting to everything. But how many will depend on how the story starts to unfold.

But we can worry about that later. Right now I want to focus on the tributes, and I'm happy to announce that we are just under halfway to filling out the roster for the story. We're at 11 total submissions/reservations, so we only need 13 more! There is no deadline for submissions. I'll be taking them until we have 24 amazing tributes, so don't rush or anything like that, but do tell all your friends about me and the story so they can submit a tribute too :D

If you're interested in submitting but have questions, the form and some basic information are on my profile page, and I'm more than happy to answer any questions you might have through PM. Just shoot me a message, and I'll respond as soon as I possibly can. Also, make sure you keep the quell twist from the first chapter in mind when submitting. It hasn't been an issue, but it is important to remember that the odd-numbered districts are only reaping boys, while the even ones are only reaping girls for this particular year. We also have a decent number of older tributes, so a few younger ones would be appreciated. :D

Other than that I want to thank everyone for reading the newest chapter, encourage everyone to review if you can, submit a tribute if you're interested, and wish you a happy rest of your day. I'll be looking forward to seeing all of your smiling faces at the next update! :D