Butterfly
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Thalia Everdeen: sister, friend, daughter. Tribute for the 72nd Hunger Games. Life ensues. AU. OC.
Rating: M for language, violence, character death, and adult themes.
Author: tlyxor1.
Butterfly
Chapter One: The Reaping
"Are you ready?"
Katniss chewed her lip, anxious. She was fourteen, gangly and awkward, and remarkably sullen. She was pretty though, with her storm cloud eyes and sable hair, and oblivious as ever, Katniss didn't even notice.
Whatever the case, it was Reaping Day, and appearance was perhaps the farthest thing from Katniss' mind. It was her third year in the bowl, Thalia's last, and the nerves - the fear - was ever-present, unwelcome and pervasive, like a bad smell, or the helpless hatred.
"Yeah," Katniss rasped, "Let's go."
They left the hovel they called home, Thalia in in a petal pink dress that fell to just above her knees, Katniss in a blouse and skirt combination. Primrose walked between them, ten years old, far too sombre, and uncharacteristically quiet. Their mother was behind them, silent as a shadow, but always there, lovely in her loneliness.
Heather Everdeen would always be beautiful.
"Are you scared?" Primrose asked them. "I'm scared. For both of you."
"Don't be, goose," Thalia answered, "We've made it this far, haven't we?"
"That's right," Katniss agreed, "After today, Thalia will be free."
And two years after that, Prim would not be.
Both older sisters pretended not to be painfully aware of that fact.
"We'll be just fine, Primmy," Thalia continued instead, "You'll see."
The town square was crowded. District Twelve was small, and therefore, their were no preliminary reapings. Everyone gathered on the single day, listened to Mayor Undersea and Effie Trinket say the same, exhausted speech as every year prior, and afterwards, two children would be reaped, would board a train, and would never come home again.
Thalia couldn't imagine the hell that the other districts had to go through. They were much larger in population and far more spread out, and the hell that was the Hunger Games reaping dragged out over the span of a week. It would eventually culminate in the same sort of presentation as District Twelve's, and Thalia could imagine that it was probably the longest week of their lives.
"Stay with Mama, Prim," Thalia instructed. Primrose obeyed, and with the blonde's hand in their mother's, Thalia took hold of Katniss', and led the way towards the peacekeepers for check-in.
Katniss went first, Thalia followed, and they joined the ranks of their peers, silent as the dead, and momentarily united in their plight.
In the same batch of eighteen year old girls, Thalia met Rosemary Bay's eyes, identical in shape and hue, and they both smiled. They weren't close by any stretch of the imagination, but they were blood, and as their hands linked, slender and callused, that was enough.
"Good luck," Thalia murmured.
"You too," Rosemary answered. "Something tells me you'll need it more than I do."
Thalia smiled, unsurprised by her cousin's insight. Her name was in the bowl 39 times. Katniss' was in there a further 15. Rosemary had admitted, once, that she took out tesserae to feed her elderly grandmother. It was as compassionate as it was selfless, but it meant her name was in the bowl 14 times, and that was twice as much as most of the other merchant children their age.
Thalia hadn't the heart to ask whether or not it was the same woman who'd disowned her only daughter, and Rosemary had been smart enough to never say.
"Last time," Rosemary murmured, "Do you dare to dream?"
"No," Thalia answered. Katniss still had another four after today, and Primrose had the seven of her own, too. She wouldn't dream. She couldn't. "Not yet."
"Then I'll dare for you," Rosemary answered, "I hope it's not you."
"I hope it's not you, either, Ro."
The clock above the justice building chimed two.
District 12 fell silent.
Mayor Undersea stepped forward from his place on the temporary stage, he cleared his throat into the microphone, and began to retell the history of Panem, how it had rose from the ruins of North America, how the 13 districts had rebelled, blah, blah, blah, and finally, he called forth Effie Trinket.
The woman was from the Capital. It was her job to escort tributes to and from the Hunger Games, but in District Twelve, and in the seam particularly, children called her 'The Reaper'. She'd sentenced 20 children to their deaths, and she did it all with a smile on her colourful face.
"Olive and salmon this year," Rosemary observed, "At least it's not neon, I guess."
"The coal would probably mute the effects," Thalia answered. "Not sure how pink hair can be at all flattering, though. Ugh."
They both stifled snickers, Effie babbled on, and at the end of her speech, the cousins mouthed along. "-and may the odds be ever in your favour."
In the silence that followed, Trinket tottered across the stage in her torturous looking heels, approached the pink bowl, and rifled through it with a manicured hand. She withdrew a folded slip, approached the microphone once more, and in front of her, District Twelve as a solitary entity held its breath.
"Thalia Everdeen."
In her own, Rosemary's hand clenched reflexively, and then let her go with a final squeeze. Around them, girls had parted, heads turned away or downcast. Very few were bold enough to meet her gaze, and those who did looked away just as quickly.
Expression artfully bored, Thalia approached the stage, climbed the stairs, and came to stand beside, and slightly behind, Trinket. Her gaze flickered over the crowd, danced across familiar faces, and settled on Katniss.
She looked devastated, held up by madge Undersea and Leevy Oakland, and Thalia gave her an encouraging smile.
Everything would be just fine.
Maybe if she tried hard enough, Thalia could actually believe herself.