Hunger Games AU. "There's a brief period in time when a person begins to question their place in life. For Fayra, her place was here, standing at the tip of Cato's sword."
A story where two people who didn't know they were searching for one another, find themselves in the most deadly of situations. A tale of love, loss and a fair amount of death. I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES. All rights reserved to Suzan Collins and her team, but I own all original content and characters throughout the story.
Chapter One: The Reaping.
Another day dawned upon the serene village of District 4, awakening the young girl from her tedious slumber. The waves outside her window were peaceful and gentle as they washed against the shore, gliding the sand back to the sea. How she wished to be carried out amongst the waves as they drifted out with the current: never to come back to the hell she had known.
"Fayra. Come along, you're already late." Murmured her father from the other end of the door.
The girl swung her legs out of bed with a heavy sigh, wiping the tiredness from the corners of her eyes. She pulled on a pair of old trousers, a shirt and tied her golden brown hair into a tight braid on the top of her head. The sun had barely began to creep over the horizon and yet her father insisted that she wake, even on one of the biggest days of the year. Reaping day.
No one is ever awake so early in District 4 on Reaping Day. Usually the village would be crawling with underpaid fishermen and tired factory workers as they nodded off home from the graveyard shift, but not today, never today. Instead the boats were docked along the shore and the usual puff of smoke from the chimneys of those factories had paused to commend the children who would be soon shipped to the Capitol.
To compete in the Annual Hunger Games.
The Reaping wasn't until the late afternoon, and yet their routine continued as if it were just any other day. Fayra joined her father who was patiently awaiting on the docks outside of their house. He stood with his arms folded over his chest with a stern look on his tired face.
"Come on. We're already ten minutes later than usual." He grumbled, boarding the small boat.
Fayra followed suit, mumbling a small apology. "I'm sorry papa. I couldn't sleep last night."
My mind was focused on other things. She thought to herself. Her father's harsh gaze lingered on her for a moment more before he gestured her forward, motioning towards the boat.
"Get in the boat. We have much to get through this morning."
She jumped down into the boat, settling amongst the edge as they drifted out over the coast. In the beginning, their morning routine was fun, consisting of various ways to catch fish and a range of different swimming styles. But as she grew older, Fayra began to understand that their morning endeavours were more than she initially anticipated. Each day had gotten a little less fun and more technical. Soon, he was timing how fast she could swim from one point to the other, and exchanged her fishing pole for a more tactical weapon: a spear.
And once she was old enough to be Reaped, Fayra knew – he was training her for the Hunger Games.
It wasn't clear in the beginning until that first day then it all made sense. The law of District 4 stated that the women weren't particularly allowed to intervene with anything relating to the fisheries, factories nor District 4's Career Training Academy for young men. And whilst the boys of District 4 were trained in the ways of combat, the young girls that were to be reaped were going into the games blind.
With no skills, no knowledge and no chance.
But her father knew better than to take his chances and soon took his matters in his own hands, training his beloved daughter each and every day. So that if the day ever did come when she would one day enter the games: Fayra at least had a fighting chance.
Once he was satisfied that the pair were far enough from land and prying eyes, he cut off the engine to the boat. Then he anchored the boat as Fayra began to strip her trousers and settled her feet into the glistening cold water. She slipped into the sea, letting her body adjust to the chill before dipping her head under.
When she came up for air, her father was standing at the edge of the boat. "There's about fifteen minutes until the sun comes up and we're three miles from land, so I suggest you get going."
Without another word, Fayra began swimming as fast as she possibly could towards the docks in which they'd just come from. Underneath, the water as silent as stone which allowed her mind to calm. Drifting through the water, Fayra let her body to take over and focused solely on the breath which filled her lungs.
In. Out. In. Out.
Although the sea was particularly calm that day, it was dangerous on most. With uncontrollable currents that pulled you in all sorts of directions and fish that could kill you with one bite: if you didn't already kill it first.
Swimming in the sea was a skill only for the strong, and it gave Fayra great pleasure knowing that she was one of few that were brave enough to indulge in such a task. On the docks waited the only person with whom Fayra could be herself around. Atlas. She could feel her muscles begin to relax as he helped her onto the old wooden dock, the breath escaping her lungs.
The mere sight of him chuckling down at her brought a bright smile to her face. He used to say that she never smiled, not unless it was for some good reason. And he was the best reason.
"You're getting slower there, Little Fay." Said Atlas. He held his hand out for her to take, bringing the girl to her feet. Her legs wobbly like two wet noodles.
"Not true." She mumbled as her older brother wrapped his Training coat over the tops of her shoulders.
It was warm and spread across her like a thick blanket ending at the tops of her knees. But she was grateful for the gesture. The pair trudged towards their little cottage in which they called home, only a mere feet away.
"Your sister had a bit of a late start this morning." Their father corrected, trailing behind the pair with a large bucket of fish in his hand. "Atlas. Make yourself useful and carry this to the kitchen: we'll have lobster for breakfast before the Reaping."
Atlas' expression quivered as he took the bucket from their father and trialled off towards the house well ahead of the pair. Fayra could feel her father's eyes on her and she patiently awaited his disappointment.
But it never came.
At home, Fayra found her mother and brother in the kitchen gutting and scaling the fish which her father had caught earlier. They laughed and joked together, losing themselves in the moment which allowed Fayra to slip pass unnoticed. She left a puddle of wet foot prints in her way, and on any normal day she would consider cleaning it: but not today. That day in particular only managed to bring out the worst in her.
A tub of hot water awaited the girl. She scrubbed the residue and sand from beneath her finger tips, and washed the salt from the strands of her golden brown locks. To her surprise, her mother had laid out a lovely dress upon the foot of her bed. A soft lavender thing with ribbons.
"You want me to wear your dress?" Fayra asked her mother, who had been watching her from the doorway.
She nodded and said. "I couldn't very well let you waltz around in those old yellow rags. They're much too small for you. Now come, we will have one last meal before the two of you go."
It had been the kindest thing her mother had done for her in such a long time. For a while, Fayra had harboured her anger towards her mother, never allowing any sort of relationship to blossom between the two. But this was something special, her mother valued her clothes very highly. And for once, she was finally allowing her daughter to wear something of hers.
And that thought alone was enough to bring a bright smile to Fayra's face.
As promised, the girl was bathed, pampered and dressed elegantly before she inspected her reflection in the broken mirror one last time. With a heavy sigh, she sauntered down the halls.
"You look lovely, Little Fay." Her father said in a hushed voice.
"Thank you, papa." Fayra replied with a half hearted smile.
"Hurry along, Fayra. We don't have much time." Her mother heaved heavily as the girl barrelled into the dinning room, taking her seat beside her family. "I had hoped to have an enjoyable breakfast, before the Reaping, but no matter."
Her mother, father and brother were seated at the dining table, patiently awaiting the girl's presence. Fayra's eyes strayed over the table before landing on her older brother. Atlas, now seventeen, would be reaped along with Fayra, but their parents breathed easy knowing that this year would be his last — while Fayra would have another two years.
"You look nice." Atlas complimented, offering his younger sister a smile.
She beamed back and replied. "Thank you. So do you."
"Your brother took it upon himself to prepare earlier than usual this morning. He was summoned to the Academy and still managed to be on time; which is more than I can say for you, Fayra." Marianne mumbled beneath her breath.
"Marianne." Their father warned as he reached for a piece of unshelled lobster in the middle of the table. "Must we do this today of all days. She's here now."
Marianne frowned and grumbled. "Yes well if Atlas can learn to be on time every once and a while, even despite his time at the Academy. Then I don't see why Fayra cannot."
"Ma, we're all together." Said Atlas, grasping his mother's hand in his. "That's all that matters now."
Marianne's face softened at Atlas' grand gesture and with a heavy sigh dismissed the conversation once and for all.
But Fayra could not forgive her mother's insolence and glared back at her heinously. Marianne had always favoured Atlas since the moment he was born. It was her wish to have another boy when Fayra was expected, one that would be an exact copy of her perfect son. But instead the couple were blessed with a daughter — one that was nothing like her older brother.
As if her father could sense her unease, he scooped the girl's hand up into his own and kissed the back of her palm before shooting her a reassuring smile.
She does love you, my dear. His eyes seemed to say, but as Fayra starred back at her mother and brother, she couldn't help but think that it may be better if she were reaped that day. Because she knew if her brother were to enter the games, her mother would never be able to live with the loss of her perfect son.
As their meal continued, they said very few words to one another. They were a family of limited words and everything that needed to be said had already been spoken. They're a family of very limited. But Fayra knew deep down that if she were to be Reaped, her family loved her in their own little ways.
Her father coughed, clearing the bubble in the back of his throat before murmuring to his children. "Whatever happens today. Your mother and I want you both to know that we love you, more than anything."
Fayra shot Atlas a strained look before replying. "We love you too, papa."
Her eyes never strayed from her fathers and although she spoke solely to her father, she knew that she could not fathom the strength to say it to her mother as well. Fayra loved her mother very much, but she knew that if Marianne had the chance to chose which child stayed and which one died — she would chose Atlas.
She would always chose Atlas.
"Yes." Marianne said, a single tear running down her perfect pink cheeks. "We love you both, dearly."
"It's time to go." Her father's voice was gravelly, gesturing to the crowd outside their home walking towards the Hall of Justice.
Fayra couldn't resist, and took one last look at the halls of the cottage. The same ones she grew up in, and silently bid farewell hoping that it wouldn't be the last time she had a chance to see them. Together the family walked beside each other, while Fayra's hand held her brother's.
Although she resented her brother for his capability to be so fucking perfect and the love he stole up from under her. Fayra still adored him with all of her heart. He was everything that she wasn't and more. And her only wish, was that he would find a life past these wretched Hunger Games. Because he deserved it.
"Don't worry." Atlas said giving her palm a gentle squeeze, sensing the girl's unease. "It won't be you today. I promise."
"At least tell me you'll miss me if it is—."
"It won't be." He said not offering her the chance to finish her sentence. "There's others out there, with more chances of their names coming out than yours. It's been a tough year in four, too many names have gone in. And I'll bet my life that yours isn't coming out today."
But it could. She didn't dare say it aloud, in fear of ruining whatever time they had left. Fayra held her brothers hand in her own tightly as the family strolled towards the justice building and the now growing crowd around it. The fishing boats had not left the harbour; the trawlers along the seashore and in the shallows of the lake were not out with their nets catching the creatures close to shore.
District 4 was ready for the Reaping.
Then they neared the building, seeing the normal formed lines of children at the registration. Atlas' hand slipped from Fayra's but not before he had a chance to farewell his sister.
His eyes strained and shoulders tensed. "Whatever happens today. I want you to know that I love you; until the end."
"Until the end." Fayra whispered back.
She was then crushed to his chest, with his arms wrapped tightly around the frame of her body. He hadn't even given her a chance to say goodbye before slipping from her embrace and trailing behind a group of older boys, ready to register his name. The entire encounter had stirred something within her, a sense of unease and discomfort washing over her.
What are you doing Atlas?
Fayra glanced at her brothers figuring once more before strolling towards the registration desk and trailing behind the group of girls in her age. Once inside the courtyard of the justice building, she finally allowed herself to breathe deeply. And hoped to whatever god that her brother, wouldn't do anything stupid.
"Good morning, District 4. And a warm welcome to everyone!" A twittering voice boomed from the top of the main stage.
Fayra tore her gaze away from the terrified young group of girls in front of her, towards Flora Lullabelle, the district escort, who had been teetering on the stage before the Hall of Justice. As per usual Flora was dressed in a well-mannered outfit. Bright neon coloured, tall wig that looked too heavy for her neck to hold and an extreme amount of makeup and cosmetic enhancements.This year Flora was kitted out in a bright ensemble that almost made Fayra's eyes squint, with a flamboyantly bouffant wig of an almost golden yellow.
She looked completely ridiculous, especially around the muted colours that was worn by the inhabitants of District 4. And as the ceremony continued, Fayra ignored the traditions that followed while her mind floated to the different types of fish that she managed to see that day.
Until finally, Flora gushed. "We are going to do things a little differently. And instead of allowing the young woman first, we will be starting with the young men. So without a further ado."
Fayra held her breath as Flora reached into the bowl which held the names of every young man in District 4. She silently prayed that the slip that held her brothers name would not be picked. As always the anticipation swirled while Flora tried to decide which piece of paper to pick. The world seemed to stop spinning and the air turned stale as the name was read aloud among the courtyard.
"Phineas Nickleback—"
There was a sob in the air, from what Fayra could only assume was the boy's mother. But her cries were silenced only by a single voice which pierced through the courtyard.
A voice which Fayra knew all too well.
"I volunteer as Tribute!" Said Atlas.
Her eyes glided over the sea of young men, towards the direction in which her brother stood a mere feet away. His arm was raised and face stale as he moved through the crowd towards the stage. The sounds of their mother's cries could be heard from even the Capitol as she watched her only son enter the games. Atlas' eyes found hers and he mouthed the words.
I'm sorry.
"How lovely!" Flora exclaimed in excitement. "We have a volunteer."
Fayra drowned out the sound of Flora's voice in the background while she tried to anticipate the signs in which directed to her brother's decision. It had suddenly all made sense. Why he had met her at the docks that morning. Why had he woken early only to be summoned to the Academy and why his declaration of love at come at the most unsuitable of times.
He was chosen.
"— and now for the ladies."
The world seemed to stop spinning and the air turned stale as the name was read aloud among the courtyard. Fayra's eyes drifted from the stage in which Flora stood upon towards the gentle swaying waves among the horizon. It was gentle today, swaying so elegantly and she'd given anything for a moment to dip her toes in.
But life had a way of screwing her over.
"Fayra Dagon!"
For a single moment the world around her narrowed in, the blood pounded in her ears and her eyesight blurred significantly. All she could see was the blurred neon pink shape of a woman who just called out her name and her brother's distraught figure beside her.
It's okay. She mouthed before moving forward.
With each step the mist of her vision cleared enough for her blurred eyes. On the outside she was the picture of pristine, poised and strong just as any sane Tribute would be. But on the inside her heart was faltering significantly with panic and her stomach tried to tangle itself into tiny little knots.
I'm going to die.
Standing upon the stage she could see the faint outlines of her parents. Her mother was sobbing, her tear-soaked face buried into her father's chest. And even as he two children had been called into the Hunger Games: the man still refused to show any emotion. He wore that Dagon face with pride, knowing that he did the best he could.
"Oh my." Flora spoke into the microphone, inspecting the two siblings as they stood side by side, hands connecting each other. "Ladies and gentlemen, it would seem that we have our very first brother and sister to enter the games – together. Oh dear, well can we have a round of applause for this happy family?"
Apart from the sobbing of their mother, there wasn't a single sound in the courtyard. Fayra drowned the world out as she starred up at her brother, his eyes never wavering from hers.
Only one of them would come out of this alive.
The moment the anthem has ended, they're taken into offical custody of the Capitol. A group of Peacekeepers have ushered the pair through the front door of the Justice Building and conducted to a room where they're left alone to farewell their family for the final time. As soon as the door had shut behind them, Fayra had shoved her brother with all her might until the boy was backed into a corner.
"Are you insane?" Fayra demanded. "Do you have some sort of a death wish? Why would you ever dream of volunteering?"
Atlas' shoulders hunched alarmed by her tone of intensity.
"You wouldn't understand, Fay. I didn't have a choice. I was chosen, they chose me! I have a duty to uphold." He grumbled both hands running through his thick hair.
"Atlas you have a duty to our family. Or has being at the Academy for so long swayed your alliances?" Her voice had risen to a shout. In it is all the anger she had stored and pent up, along with the fear of the next coming weeks.
Her brother's eyes had found the floor, refusing to look back at her. "Our family is the only reason I accepted their request. If I had won, I could've ensured us a safe and happy life. So papa wouldn't have to struggle to keep us afloat, so we never had to starve again."
"But at what costs? You would risk your own life to put food on the table?"
"I would risk it all if it meant my family were safe and taken care of." Atlas growled, his hands now grasping his dear sister's face. "I would risk it all if it means keeping you safe, Fayra."
Atlas' selflessness was unmatched. It was his one irredeemable quality that made him the only candidate worth winning the games. Fayra would arguably fight for her own survival, whereas Atlas would risk it all only to see his family prevail in the end.
He was a true Victor.
Atlas wrapped his arms around his sister, giving her a gentle squeeze. And then he spoke. "Don't worry about a thing. I'm going to protect you. You're going to make it out of this, Fayra.Youare coming home—"
But the thought of her brother sacrificing himself in her stead had managed to boil her blood.
"Don't be stupid." Fayra exclaimed. "There's a reason you were chosen for this: there's no one better with an axe than you." Fayra argued.
He pulled himself from her grasp, angry with himself.
"I'm not going to kill you, Fayra."
"You might not have a choice, Atlas."
"I will never lay a hand on you, Fayra. They'll have to kill me first." His eyes turned dark and harsh, but he refused to back down.
They just might.
Then the door suddenly opened and their parents had rushed to their children. Their mother raced towards her son, eager to comfort him which left Fayra and her father. The pair of them had never felt the need for comfort, but Fayra didn't hesitate to jump into his arms. Amongst all the chaos, Fayra tried to relax into her fathers embrace, memorising what it felt like to be held by her dad.
Then he pulled away and placed both hands on her shoulders. "You listen to me, alright. We don't have much time. You need to stay together and near the water. You're much suited to the water than you are on land. Find a weapon, anything to keep you safe those first couple days and if you can't find one: you make one."
Atlas pulled away from their mother, coming to stand before their father. But Marianne refused to release her grip on her son, her arms still locked tightly around his waist.
"Marianne. That's enough." Their father ordered desperately. His eyes cold and hard as they glared upon his wife.
But she did not listen. "Give it a rest, Alvin. He could very well die out there—"
"And what about our daughter? Would you not spare a single moment to tell her that you love her? To hold her just once more?"
Marianne's eyes settled on Fayra before shifting to the ground.
Coward. Fayra thought to herself. And although she wanted so desperately to say it to her mother before she was sent off to her death. She knew that she could not do that to Atlas. He deserved one final moment of peace with their mother before they descended towards the Capitol. And so Fayra suppressed her thoughts one final time before wrapping her arms around her father.
"Look after each other, you hear me. No matter what happens in that arena, promise me you'll after each other. Promise me?" He muttered as the Peace Keeper's charged into the room.
"I promise." Said Fayra.
"I love you." He whispered a final time, his eyes focused on his daughter and then on his son across the room. "Until the end."
Fayra's arms loosened from her father, while the Peace Keeper's removed their parents from the room. Fayra shot her mother one final look of disappointment before the door was shut behind them.
"Until the end."
The speed of the train initially took her breath away. And yet everything felt wrong as the train raced away from District 4, away from the sweet smell of the open ocean and the only world either of them had ever known.
Atlas sat beside his sister, their hands joined together. Fayra kept her eyes focused on the window out, watching as the train zoomed on through the countryside. But soon her concentration was shattered by the door to the carriage door swinging open and in walked their mentor with a charming grin.
Finnick Odair.
He won the Games wielding a trident and a net he fashioned himself. Fayra was only a small girl when he won, but she would never forget his handsome face and cunning tongue. Bronze hair, sparking eyes and one dazzling smile. The boy half of Panem swooned over but Fayra knew better than trust someone who was skilled in the art of lying.
"That was quite a show out there. The brother and sister duo, a united front, I like it. You, you must be Atlas." Said Finnick, strolling towards the pair. Finnick shook the hand of Atlas first before lifting her hand and raising it to his lips.
"And you, I assume, are Fayra."
She tugged her hand from out of his grasp and sneered. "I don't like being touched."
"Well you'd best get use to it, darling. With a face like that, I can assure you that I'll be the least of your worries." Finnick plonked into the chair opposite them both, stroking his chin and inspecting them. "Apologies. My name is Finnick Odair and I will be your mentor."
"Well, Finnick." Atlas began, glancing over to his sister and then to their mentor. "Before we begin, I should warn you. Never touch my sister again or I'll throw you out of this train myself."
Finnick smiled. "I like you, Atlas. Unlike most in four, you actually have a spine. It could prove to be useful."
His eyes danced over from Atlas to the narrow eyed Fayra who seemed to be shooting daggers at Finnick. "As for you, hostility doesn't suit you darling. But I know I'm going to like you. Hm. The brother and sister from District 4; doomed to die at the hand of one another's. I can work with that."
Then he leaned forward with his hands clasped in front of him. "Before we talk strategy, I'll need you both to continue as you have, by putting on those brave faces. Don't show a hint of weakness because let me tell you the Capitol has no interest in meek little children. They favour only the strong."
His eyes landed on Atlas, who scoffed in return. Then his eyes drifted towards Fayra. "Although the pretty ones do tend to get a bit more sponsors — which will serve us well considering how gorgeous you are, darling."
Then Fayra scoffed.
"On topic please. So our objective for now would be to get good sponsors, then what." Atlas asked, his piercing green eyes settling on Finnick.
"Well then I would need to know your skills, your strengths, things that'll serve you well in the Arena. What exactly do the two of you do back home?"
Atlas spoke first, leaning back in his chair. "My mother and father sent me to the Academy when I was nine. I've been training everyday since. I know how to kill."
"Very good. Well – my advice to you would be to align with the Career pack. It's more than likely they'll want you anyways what with you being a volunteer and all." He nodded in approval then turned to Fayra.
"And what do you do darling?" He asked, raising a brow.
The pair cautiously send one another a look of uncertainty. Finnick sensed their nervousness and said. "You two can't afford to be suspicious, not here and not with me. I am your mentor and like it or not I am the only one trying to keep you both alive."
Atlas glanced from Finnick over to Fayra. He shook his head at her, silently pleading her not to tell him. But she knew that Finnick was right. He was their only chance — her only chance.
Then she spoke. "Photographic memory. Could recite the entire bible by word if you wish."
"That won't be necessary, darling, but that is quite impressive. Useful too I suppose." Finnick recalled. "Do you have knowledge with any weaponry? Preferred weapon of choice?"
"Anything with a sharp tip I suppose." She said simply, earning a small smile from Finnick for whom she knows is exceptionally proficient with a trident of his very own making.
His eyes shoot between the two siblings and he nods in confidence.
"Good. I can work with that. And maybe, just maybe, we might have a chance of getting one of the two of you out of there alive. Given that you do exactly as I say. Heaven knows it isn't going to be easy." He looks at Fayra once again, smiling genuinely.
That night Fayra and Atlas watched the Reapings of the rest of the tributes together on the television in a compartment nearby.
First to reaped were the tributes of District 1, with a willowy blonde girl with green eyes. Beautiful, and confident, she strut up onto the stage with her lovely flaxen head held high. The boy however was much quiet, less obvious but just as confident as his partner, smiling down at the crowd and giving them a jaunty wave.
Glimmer and Marvel, they are full of confidence, and belief that they could and would win. But then District 2 appeared on the screen.
The girl, Clove, held an extremely tense aura around her like a small dark cloud of energy. She shouted out into the crowd, that she wanted to volunteer as though she were chosen for the right. She was alight with it, this eager fervency. But she seemed too tame in comparison to her partner who flashed onto the screen only moments after.
"I volunteer!"
The young man on the screen was eager, so sure of himself. And with good reason. He was tall and strong, muscular and graced with a devilishly handsome face. He was undeniably confident as he strode towards the stage as if it were his birthright.
Then he stated his name in a clear voice, commanding the attention of everyone who dared to lay an eye on him.
"Cato."
Cato's eyes locked onto the camera in front of him for a single moment. Fayra's blood turned cold almost as if she were being doused in icy water. His blue eyes were cold, determined and merciless. This was a true Career, trained to murder and kill at any means. He was extraordinarily lethal.
And suddenly, whatever hope Fayra had for either her or her brother making it out of the games alive vanished at the mere sight of the young man on the screen.