Chaney Hallows, District 7, 15

Acadia, Travis, Aphrodite and I ate a quick breakfast together before the Peacekeepers led Travis and I away.

"Best of luck," Acadia said quietly.

"Thanks," I said.

She and Travis shared a look, and then we were taken away. The Peacekeepers took us into the elevator, which traveled to the roof of the building. A hovercraft was waiting for us, and we boarded it silently. Inside, all of the windows were covered to prevent us from catching a glimpse of the arena. We buckled in, and the hovercraft took off, Peacekeepers guarding the doors. Both of our teams of stylists were waiting for us as well, chattering excitedly about the day to come. Travis and I didn't participate.

Eventually, we felt the hovercraft descend. A Peacekeeper gestured at me, and my stylists practically leapt out of their seats, walking towards the door.

"You first," said the Peacekeeper.

I unbuckled myself and stood, looking at Travis. "Goodbye," I said.

He nodded. "Goodbye," he echoed.

"Best of luck," I whispered.

"You as well," he replied.

With that, I turned and followed my stylists off the hovercraft. We walked down a flight of stairs into an underground room. It was surprisingly large, with a few couches and all of the stylist's prep materials. Fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling, keeping the room well-lit.

The stylists ushered me towards the shower in the corner. When that was done, they handed me a uniform for the next few days. The number 7 was stitched into the breast pocket, just like on our training uniforms. I put it on, and turned to look at myself in the mirror.

I have on a black t-shirt with a small breast pocket, where my district number is. I also have a muddy green jacket with a hood, and large pockets, which will likely come in handy later. It was clearly lined with some high-tech material- for warmth? To keep cool? Who knew. My shorts were a light brown, again with pockets. I hadn't realized tributes needed so many pockets, but I supposed it made sense. The shorts came with a thick, dark brown belt. My shoes were a pair of thick, sturdy, dark brown boots that were laced tightly. I had tall black socks on as well.

My stylists gestured to me again, and had me sit down in their stylist's chair. They covered me with a thick sunscreen and began to braid my hair. Once the braids reached the bottom of my head, they stopped weaving and tied them off into two ponytails. They hummed as they worked. Finally, they finished preparing me, and led me into the foreboding tube in the corner. As I stepped in, it sealed behind me, startling me a little. My stylists waved cheerily, wishing me luck.

Beneath my feet, the platform began to rise. My heart leapt into my throat, and I was overcome with anxiety, my stylists becoming smaller and smaller.

I closed my eyes. This was it. No looking back now. This was what I deserved, and now it was time to deal with the consequences.

I opened my eyes.

Dale Orion-Poplar, District 12, 17

After breakfast, Peacekeepers escorted Sienna and I onto hovercrafts, which we rode to the arena. Before we left, though, Aurelia had to say her goodbyes.

"Best of luck, Dale," she purred. "I'll be rooting for you. And watching very closely. I already have many sponsors lined up for you."

"Thanks," I replied.

She glanced at Sienna, any signs of warmth gone. "Good luck," she said, wrinkling her nose.

Sienna seemed too nervous to notice, though. "Thank you," she said, her voice quiet.

With that, we were taken away. Fairly soon, we arrived at the arena. Sienna left first, taking her prep team with her, before the hovercraft traveled a little further to drop me off. My stylists and I descended a dark staircase to arrive in an underground room, filled with couches and prep team stuff and a shower.

The stylists had me shower immediately, and then began dressing me. I couldn't stop thinking about my mom the entire time. Had she truly done this? Would she watch the Games? Did she even care enough to watch me fight for my life?

I felt my heart racing and tried to turn my thoughts to my loved ones. I glanced down at my token, my bracelet from my brother Leo. Inside, it read eternal protection. I took some deep breaths. My family, my true family that really mattered, would be watching. They wanted to see me succeed, and that was all that mattered. Aurelia's words echoed in my mind: in the arena, she couldn't influence anything. No one in Twelve has that kind of power and reach. That was what she'd said. I held her words close to my chest, letting them wrap around me like a suit of armor. I can do this.

The stylists finished dressing me, and I turned to look at myself in the mirror. I had on a green, hooded jacket, and a black t-shirt with the number 12 embroidered on it. My shorts are belted, and they're gray with large pockets. Brown, sturdy boots are on my feet, with long black socks extending up my calf.

After I was done being dressed, I was led towards a glass tube. Once I stepped inside, it shut behind me, dividing me from the stylists. They gave me some timid waves, wishing me luck.

The platform under my feet began to rise, bringing me with it. I take one last, deep, steadying breath. There was nothing my mother could do to hurt me now. From here on out, my fate was in my own hands. No one else's.

I looked up. Before my eyes could make out the arena, though, sunlight blinded me.

Glowla Lush, District 1, 18

The morning was a whirlwind of activity, with Virgil and I scarfing down breakfast before the Peacekeepers took us away. Well, more of a whirlwind for Virgil than me, because like always, he overslept. Couldn't wait to deal with that once we were in the arena.

Before we left, Braun gave us some last pieces of advice.

"Kill or be killed," he said. "Trust no one."

We both nodded as the Peacekeepers led us away.

The hovercraft ride away from the Training Center made my stomach flip. I'd never been in the air before, let alone a hovercraft. By contrast, Virgil somehow looked right at home.

"Relax, Glowy," he said, kicking his feet up. "Just like riding the train."

I shook my head. "No, it's not."

"Well, either way, it's still fun," he said, grinning. "Isn't that right?" he asked his prep team. They nodded, agreeing enthusiastically. I sighed, tapping my nails against my thigh anxiously.

Eventually, after what felt like ages, we finally descended towards the arena. The Peacekeepers gestured for me to disembark, and I leapt up at the opportunity. As it turned out, hovercrafts weren't really my thing. My stylists and I left the hovercraft, walking down a dark staircase. I didn't bother saying my goodbyes to Virgil. We knew we'd see one another soon.

The room we'd traveled to was surprisingly large, with couches and prep team equipment filling much of the available space. Fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling, keeping the room bright. What really caught my attention, though, was the glass tube in the corner of the room, with a small platform at its bottom. I could feel the adrenaline filling me already just at the sight of it. The arena was so close. The cards were almost dealt.

The stylists had me shower, trusting me to take care of scrubbing myself down, before getting me dressed. The uniform this year was nothing special: dull green jacket with a hood, black t-shirt with my number, 1, stitched into it, and a pair of gray shorts with a thick belt. I had brown boots on as well, with long black socks that nearly reached my knees. Before I launched, the stylists covered me in sunscreen and wove my hair into two long braids that flowed loose once they left my head. I appreciated the two hair ties it came with- I'd definitely be needing those as the Games went on.

Finally, they led me towards the glass tube. I stepped inside, excitement filling my chest. I could barely breathe. The day was here. The moment was now. Everything I'd worked for was coming to fruition. It was hard to believe I'd once been a down-on-my-luck kid gambling for rent money. It had been a difficult time, but I looked back on it fondly. It had made me strong, and ultimately led to where I was now.

Seconds away from the arena.

I kept my eyes open as the platform finally arrived in the arena, the sun momentarily blinding me. I blinked furiously, ready to take it all in.

Parker Dillio, District 11, 16

The morning was nerve-wracking. Alula and I had to eat quickly before the Peacekeepers escorted us away from Grover, our Mentor, and our Escort, Dominica.

"Good luck," said Grover, looking solemn. Dominica gave us a little wave, and then we were off.

We were brought to the roof two floors above us and led onto the waiting hovercraft. The ride there was mostly silent. I honestly nearly nodded off: Alula had made quite the racket last night, shouting and screeching for hours. I had no idea what it was about, but no one was able to get her to calm down. Grover was barely able to get inside to try, because she'd barricaded the door. Now, though, she was quiet, dark circles under her eyes indicating she'd had a sleepless night.

I didn't blame her. Even without her racket, it had been tough to fall asleep. It was difficult to ignore the pit in my stomach, and my mind just wouldn't calm down. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about how that might be my last night alive. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes, I would see Alex. It was always the same image: him, dead, lying in the orchard, blood pooling from his head and mixing with berry juice. His eyes were so glassy. I wondered if I would see him soon. Since then, I'd only seen my twin brother in mirrors. Would he be with my parents, too? Our first family reunion in half a decade?

We arrived at the launch stations, Alula getting off before me. Once we were there, my stylists and I traveled down a staircase into an underground room. They immediately started preparing me, having me shower and get dressed. The uniform was fairly simple: green jacket, black t-shirt, gray shorts, belt, brown boots, long black socks. The only detail that made it identifiably mine was the 11 stitched into the chest pocket. The stylists had long accepted that I no longer spoke, and filled the room with conversation of their own as they worked, discussing possible arenas based on my uniform.

The stylists covered me with sunscreen, and then brought me over to a tube of thick glass that waited for me in the corner. I stepped inside. The glass shut behind me. Not long after, the platform beneath my feet began to ascend. I shut my eyes briefly, trying to squash down the anxiety brewing in the pit of my stomach. This wasn't the end. It couldn't be.

When I opened them again, all I saw was sunlight. Then, my eyes focused.

*Hi, friends! This concludes the Pre-Games portion of this story. The next chapter, the Bloodbath (!), will be up around the middle of this week. If you haven't checked out the poll on my profile to submit your Victor predictions, be sure to do that asap! I've loved seeing the responses so far. Also, thanks to those of you who updated me that you're still reading.

Before the Bloodbath begins, I'd just like to say thanks to everyone who submitted a character to me. Thank you for trusting me with your precious tributes. Thank you for putting in the work to make them the dynamic, unique individuals that have made this story so fun to write. I hope you all have enjoyed reading Eyeing the Throne as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I hope that as tributes begin to fall, you feel that I have provided a satisfying end to their stories.

With that said, on to the Games! May the odds be ever in your favor...

-r-b*