This is written from a child's POV so bear with me xD

Prologue

Aemma Aurelius-Marsay, age 7

The Capitol

Woosh!

I feel like I'm falling from a million miles in the sky all the way down to my bed! I don't feel any impact, but my stomach drops in a way that made me feel like I really was falling. Was I falling? I don't think I was.

It must have been a dream, because our houses has a magic barrier that prevents anyone from falling to the ground. A Six girl tried it a few years back from another building. It was a big deal. I was four when it happened so I don't remember it well.

But clearly I was doing something amazing in my dream. What was it?

The next evening, before Mama tucks me into bed, I remember to tell her about it.

"And it was amazing, Mama! I never felt anything like it! I just can't remember all of it," I sadly tell her, folding my arms in anger. "I must be stupid."

Mama gives me a warm smile. "Sweetheart, you are not stupid. Never say that! The fact is, most people don't remember their dreams," she says as she covers me in my heavy quilt. But then she looks like she has an idea.

"Well, some people can, they just write them in a dream journal."

My eyes grow big. "What's that?" I ask, suddenly feeling very excited.

"It's a book that people keep on their nightstands. When they wake up, the first thing they'll do is jot down what they dreamed about while the memory is still fresh in their minds," Mama says, her purple eyes glittering. I feel like I need a dream journal now.

"Mama, I need one of those!" I say, shaking my fists. She giggles at me in a very soft voice.

"I can certainly arrange for you to have one. Will you be able to write in it? I know you're still learning your letters," she says as she moves a piece of hair from her face.

"I'm good at writing! Aquilina says I'm better than all the other kids at letters! My Gs are perfect, look!" I write a letter G in the air to demonstrate. Mama laughs again.

"Well, if you think you're up to it. In any case," Mama says, pressing a button on her wristband, "you don't have to write words only. You can draw pictures, too."

I didn't even think of that. "I'm a really good drawer, too!" I really am. Mama keeps shiny pictures of my drawings on the walls of her big room with the desk. She calls it an art exhibit.

"You most certainly are, little dreamer," she tells me with a kiss on my forehead. "Sleep well for now, my Aemma, and when you wake up there will be a journal for you to tell about all your dreams and wishes."

"I can't wait!" I tell Mama as she gets up to turn off my light. I blow her a kiss as she closes the door behind her, leaving me by myself. I toss and turn in my bed, just wanting to drift away into a dream world.

Sleep, sleep! I angrily tell myself. I get mad when I stay up too late. Luckily the Avox sometimes brings me milk to help me sleep, but only if I ask. I decide to ask this time and after choosing it on my holo-tablet, the night time service arrives in my room, a brown haired lady holding a steamy cup.

"Thank you," I say to her but she just rushes off looking scared. As soon as she leaves I drink the milk in one big gulp. It burns my tongue a little bit, but is a very cozy feeling.

Before long, my eyes are heavy.

Aemilia Marsay, age 31

Head Gamemaker

The Capitol

My heels clink against the marble floors in a fast-paced rhythm, but I can hardly hear it compared to how many voices are in my head telling me to do what I have wanted to do for the past six years.

Resign.

I didn't choose to become Head Gamemaker. When I'm at my lowest and most stressful points in life, it's what I tell myself. You didn't ask for this. You didn't sign up for any of this.

In truth, I only wished to be with my daughter. President D'Arcy had insisted that after Head Gamemaker Joy's demise that I was the perfect candidate to take up the role, considering I was his second-in-command for so many years. I considered refusing but it was all for naught. You don't turn down the highest honor the President can bestow upon a citizen.

I was forced to watch Aemma continually be without her mother, and in the most important moments as well. She had plenty of caretakers, sure, and it's impossible that Aemma has ever wanted for anything in her very privileged life. But regardless, I feel as if the Control Center has been robbing my daughter of her mother, considering her father is often posted in District 2…

"You're not doing the Hunger Games the entire year, you know," one of my close friends, Junebug, pointed out to me one day, tossing her pale pink curls. We were at our favorite sushi restaurant, and I was enjoying a rare day off.

"Oh, but I am," I tell her, not going into the details of what keeps me occupied all year but making it clear that I have little free time. The moment the twenty-third cannon booms, I'm practically forced to look to the next year. It's a little sobering to witness so much bloodshed then having to immediately think of how I'll make next year's bloodshed more entertaining. But it's what I do for a living, so as my mother always told me, it is what it is.

I was surprised by President D'Arcy's invitation to the Rose Garden at the Presidential Palace. It came around four months before the 138th Hunger Games were to commence, and I figured it had something to do with ensuring that a troublesome rebel's offspring made his or her way to this year's arena. I also thought it to be a good opportunity to perhaps bring up the idea of finding a new Head Gamemaker. But instead, I arrived to find the president in the gardens carrying a handful of blue lilies that he seemed to have cut himself, judging by the pliers in his other hand.

"Do forgive me for my less than stellar harvesting skills," he jokes, and I smile back at him.

"You have an eye for beauty, sir. Those lilies are a favorite of my daughter's." I wonder if he knew that or if it was a coincidence, considering a majority of the flowers in President D'Arcy's gardens are warm, flamboyant colors. The ironic thing is most of them weren't roses anymore despite still being called the Rose Gardens.

"Precisely why I chose them," the president muses, then hands over the bunch to me. "A gift, to your Aemma. Make sure she knows they're from me." I gingerly accept the flowers, holding them to my nose.

"She'll be honored, sir!"

President D'Arcy invites me to sit.

"I do have another gift for your daughter, and for you, my dearest Marsay," he begins, turning to me and clasping his hands.

"I'm aware that you have a wish to resign your role as Head Gamemaker."

My blood freezes in my veins.

"I-I.." I can't seem to form a word. "If I may ask, where did you hear that from, sir?"

"Grapevine," is all he says. Though if he knew what kind of flowers my daughter liked, I could only guess that she relayed the instances of me venting to her about my job to the President. Or perhaps the President's young son, Golden, heard Aemma talk about it whilst they played together as they often do. Either way, I'm in trouble.

"It's not because I am not grateful for the honor you bestowed upon me, sir!" I ramble, already feeling my hands getting clammy. But President D'Arcy just laughs.

"Do not fear, Miss Marsay, I understand where you are coming from. I often feel guilty for having to force my partner to step up and essentially become Golden's sole father," President D'Arcy admits, his dark blue eyes looking upset. I'm surprised, as the President is usually so formal with me. "But alas, the role of President is not a simple one."

I want to say something but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. Luckily the President continues.

"The role of Head Gamemaker is not simple either. And I understand that you wish to spend more time with your daughter and be involved in her childhood. Therefore, after the conclusion of this year's Games, I am relieving you of your duties as Head Gamemaker."

I let out a gasp, my heart stopping for a moment. Once I compose myself, I stare down into the lilies then back at the President, a sad smile on my face.

"Sir, I am eternally grateful to you for your kindness and understanding…" I say, trailing off.

"... but I hope I am not disappointing you."

"Nonsense!" he assures, his hand on his knee. "The Capitol loves you, yes, but they also love fresh faces. And your reason for resignation is sure to touch the hearts of every parent in Panem."

"I certainly hope so, sir," I reply, trying to hide the excitement in my voice.

…

When Aemma burst into my office later that day, grinning from ear to ear, I knew I was in for a treat. She usually only enters when, as I told her, it was an absolute emergency.

"This is an emergency, Mama!" Aemma argues. "It has to do with the Hunger Games!"

I raise an eyebrow at her. Any news related to the Games either comes from me or reaches my ears first. "What could it possibly be, my child, that I haven't heard of it already?"

Aemma giggles and holds out a bright pink journal at me. I recognize it after looking closer at the dream journal I picked out for her a month or two ago.

"Remember this, Mama?" she asks me excitedly, jumping up and down.

"Yes, I do," I tell her as she hands the book to me.

"Look through it, look!" Aemma is practically bouncing off the walls now with anticipation, so I open the book to the first page. Immediately, my eyes bulge at what I see.

Once I finish skimming through the final sections of her journal, my eyes still trying to adjust to the impossibly bright-colored markers she used to fill the pages, I start laughing, louder than I've ever laughed before.

"This is amazing!" I say, holding the book high in the air. "Did you really come up with all of this yourself?"

"I didn't come up with it, Mama. It was in my dreams." Aemma corrects, folding her hands together.

"Right, right…"

I'm still in awe of the fact that my seven year old really dreamt of everything I drank in from that journal. It was all so… wicked… yet brilliant.

"And this is related to the Hunger Games because…" I question, holding the still open-book in my hand as Aemma's pale green eyes twinkle.

"Because I want you to bring the dream world to life, Mama! I want you to make it into the Hunger Games!"

This will be a partial SYOT as I soothe myself back into writing! Check for open slots on my bio. I only accept forms via PM. Here is the form:

Name, age, gender:

District:

Orientation/romantic preference:

Appearance:

Personality

Backstory:

Family and friends:

Occupation (if they have one):

Reaped or volunteered? If volunteered, why?

Reaction to being reaped (if reaped):

Reaping outfit:

Token:

Train scene:

Parade outfit:

What do they do in training:

Weapon of choice:

What do they do in private session:

Session score:

Interview outfit:

Interview angle:

Open to allies? You can arrange them yourself but let me know through PM:

Bloodbath strategy:

Games strategy:

Predicted placement:

Predicted cause of death:

How would they win:

Potential character development?:

If they had 3 wishes, what would they be?

Biggest hope:

Biggest fear:

Favorite color:

Favorite food:

Cat person or dog person?

Light sleeper or heavy sleeper?

Side sleeper or back sleeper?

Afraid of the dark?

Best dream:

Worst nightmare:

Sorry the form's so long. I hope to see submissions soon! No real deadline, just as soon as I fill up enough slots. Filling non-POVs is not a priority. If you'd like, just send me a name for those.

xoxo

Aemma