Alester Pierce, 17, District 1
Victor of the 92nd Hunger Games
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the Victor of the 92nd Annual Hunger Games, Alester Pierce."
He'd done it. He had outlasted the other twenty-three sent into the arena with him, if just barely. Hunter had managed to slice him up pretty good before Alester was able to put him down. Soaked in both his blood and that of the runner-up from Twelve, Alester hadn't even registered Claudius Templesmith's voice when it boomed across the arena, but he knew he had won.
His axe slipped from his hand and onto the hard dirt below only a moment before he collapsed, coughing out blood and groaning as the pain continued to shoot through his body. He had already been finding it difficult to breathe, but it almost felt impossible now, as though he were drowning. Black spots had started to gather around the edge of his sight as he turned around onto his back, the remaining air escaping his lungs as the hovercraft descended through the mountains. Just as the hovercraft's bay opened up, shining its bright lights into the darkened arena, everything went dark as he found himself unable to cling to consciousness any longer.
"Don't fill yourself up on sweets, Alester," Camilia Pierce chided as she fiddled with the holovision, not even needing to turn around to know that her son was reaching for one of the small hand cakes set out around their train car. The Victor of the 69th Hunger Games was a stern and unforgiving woman, but those qualities also made her one of the best mentors District One had to offer. It was only natural that she mentored the year her only son was the volunteer. She was just as serious in appearance as she was in demeanor. Her black hair was put into a neat ponytail and her eyes gave their piercing, blue gaze everywhere she looked. No one would deny that she was a formidable woman.
Alester sighed, redirecting his arm to a nearby glass, filling it with water from a pitcher. "I've spent nearly my entire life sticking to diets. You really think that one little cake will hurt me now?"
"It's not about the physical effects," the mentor continued, "it's about what it does to your discipline. If you want to win, you can't soil your discipline now."
"She's right," Genevieve Blanchet, the Victor of the 88th Hunger Games and the other mentor for District One this year, chimed in with a wry grin as she settled into a chair at the table. "You'll have to eat all the vegetables on your plate tonight or you're a goner for sure." The younger mentor was yet another in a long line of beloved victors from District One and it was easy to see why. As professional and disciplined as Alester tried to be towards the victors at the academy, even he had to admit that Genevieve was a beauty. With a head of thick, wavy black hair that was cut just where her neck started, a pair of blue eyes, and a slim hourglass figure, she'd won her games by seducing the men in her career alliance and twisting them against each other.
"You're not being helpful, Genevieve," Camilia said tersely, turning around as the holovision came on, bringing up the coverage of Reaping Day nationwide by Caesar Flickerman. There was little time for the two to laugh over the matter before the older mentor asked, "Where's Venus?"
"In her room, 'studying'," Genevieve replied nonchalantly as she gazed at the image of Flickerman on the screen.
Camilia sighed and shook her head, "It's as if she doesn't want this opportunity. I still don't know how she managed to win the Academy's tournament."
"Give her some time, Camilia," the other continued, "Venus is smart. Very smart. I think you'll find her satisfactory by the time she and Alester are in the arena."
"Perhaps..." That was all Camilia spoke on the matter, sitting down next to Alester and across from Genevieve and turning her attention back to the holovision. It had come on right in the middle of District Four's reaping, and now both tributes had volunteered. The older victor turned to her son, "Thoughts?"
"The boy looks rather unremarkable, but he was selected by his academy for something." The boy from Four was a bit younger at fifteen and had a certain meekness about him. "Perhaps his unremarkable appearance is a play. I'll have to keep an eye on him during training."
Genevieve proceeded to speak next, annoying Camilia once again. "I think the girl is who you really want to be watching out for. I mean, just look at her."
Sirena Yale was District Four's female volunteer and to say that she was big was an understatement. She towered her district partner and certainly had him outgunned with her muscles. There was a fierceness in her face, one that told him she was every bit as determined on winning as he was. Genevieve was right; Alester would have to keep an even closer watch on her than on the boy. He'd no doubt that this Sirena Yale would be a contender for victor.
When Alester woke up, he could tell he wasn't in a hovercraft. He was inside what seemed to be a hospital room, judging by all the medical equipment surrounding him. A continuous bar of fluorescent lights wrapped around the top of the walls, casting a warm amber glow against the cold grey shades of the room. There were a few chairs on the wall opposite of him, where he could see two figures sitting: his mentors. He tried pushing himself into a sitting position, only to fall back down onto the bed, a coarse and dry cough leaving his lungs. It was only then that he noticed the dull pain that filled nearly every inch of his upper body.
"Easy," Camilia warned in a gentle tone that he was unaccustomed to. "It's still going to be a few hours until the drugs completely kick in. Until then, you need to rest."
Alester took in as deep a breath he could and relaxed back into the bed. After a few moments, he turned his head to look over at his mother. "How-", he coughed again, his voice dry and raspy. "How long have I been down?"
"Five days," she answered. "You went comatose on the hovercraft out of the arena and it was medically necessary to keep you that way." Camilia faltered for just a brief moment before continuing. "Your respiratory and circulatory systems had major damage and stress done to them. The doctors have managed to repair nearly all of that damage, but it's going to be a long road to recovery. One of the nurses or doctors will give you a more thorough explanation once you're fully with it."
He nodded slowly while the news sank in, his eyes returning to the ceiling once more as he murmured, "I did it... I fucking did it."
"Why the tone of surprise?" Genevieve teased with a grin. "You wanted to win and you claimed your victory."
"Only after nearly dying," he countered, coughing again.
Camilia butted in, "Nobody escapes the arena without a scratch."
The younger mentor dramatically rolled her eyes, provoking a subdued laugh from Alester which in turn provoked a brief glare from his mother. After a moment of silence, Camilia spoke up again, "Well, as I said, you need to rest. We'll leave you to it." She went to take her leave, but before exiting the room, she turned back at her son. "And Alester, congratulations. I've never been prouder of you."
Alester slightly rose in his bed, looking at his mother. Her approval had never been something that was easy to gain but to hear it now had finally fulfilled what he'd spent most of his life training for. No further words were exchanged between them and there didn't did need to be. Alester only nodded before both his mother and Genevieve walked out the door. With the faint sound of his heart monitor left the only noise in the room, sleep came quickly and easily.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed while he was asleep thanks to the lack of a clock in the room. How thoughtful. Even if there had been a clock, however, Alester's attention wouldn't have been on it. Sitting regally in one of the chairs opposite his bed was none other than President Coriolanus Snow, one leg resting atop the other leg's knee. Alester had seen the President during the opening ceremonies, but he'd never been this close to him before. He pushed himself into a sitting position, not encountering the same difficulties he did earlier. "Mister President."
"Mister Pierce," Snow responded, a thin smile formed on his lips. Even at the age of a hundred, the President of Panem still spoke with the same smooth and dulcet tones he was known for. "Firstly, I would like to offer my congratulations to you. It is far from easy to claim the title of Sole Victor, even for a career tribute such as yourself, but you pulled through. That commands respect."
"Thank you, sir." Alester's tone and posture were all very solemn and serious. Now was not the time to forget his etiquette training lest he soured this new relationship with the capitol.
President Snow's smile widened ever so slightly before his attention shifted, one hand reaching for a tablet resting on the chair beside him. "Confident. Brave. Cunning. Determined. Patriotic." He set the tablet aside once more, his icy blue eyes piercing deep into the victor. "The profile your District's escort wrote for you. Your victory has proven the first four traits true, and the fifth was never in question with your father being a representative in the National Assembly."
Alester's eyes grew curious as he began to wonder what the President was getting at. "Sir?"
"I need a favor from you, Mister Pierce," Snow continued, coughing into his handkerchief a moment later. The President had cleverly colored his handkerchief a shade similar to blood, but there was still a small amount left on his lips. "A favor I could only trust with a true son of Panem."
"Of course. I'll do anything, you need only ask it, sir."
President Snow's smile returned. "I knew I was right about you." His smile soon faded back into a more clouded expression and several moments passed before he spoke again. "I am dying, Mister Pierce. I don't know who is responsible, but I have steadily been poisoned over the past year and a half. I do not expect to live to see another Hunger Games or even your Victory Tour."
Alester didn't like the direction this was headed. He disliked the small-scale politics that existed even in District One, but the politics of the Capitol were a different beast entirely and the single highest authority in all of Panem just told him he was about to die. "It isn't possible to negate this poison's effects? I mean, there has to be some kind of treatment."
Snow shook his head. "If I had detected the poison sooner, I could have halted it's progress and perhaps even found the culprit, but I'm afraid it is too late now. I will die, my murderer will likely remain a blank face, and another will be elected president."
"And in regards to the favor you need from me, Mister President?"
"Yes..." The President set the leg on his knee back down, allowing himself to relax completely in the seat before continuing. "When a tribute becomes a victor, they become much more than that. They become symbols of hope and courage, beloved in the Capitol and their home and respected in the Districts. As the latest victor, the nation's attention is going to be on you until next year." He paused, examining Alester once again before continuing. "Traditionally, the Chancellor of Panem is elected president following the death of the incumbent, but any senior member of the Unity Party can theoretically put forth their candidacy before the Arbiter of Succession for the party's nomination. You are familiar with the Arbiter's role, yes?"
He nodded. Alester did have some knowledge of how the interior of the nation's government functioned thanks to being the son of a National Assembly representative as well as a victor, including knowledge of the mysterious and untouchable Arbiter of Succession, the only office other than the Presidency that held life terms. The entire executive cabinet voted for a new arbiter upon the death of the last, generally a reasonable, wise, and neutral individual. Once elected, their name becomes classified to all but the presidium and they are referred to by their title for the rest of their life. Constitutionally, not even the President was allowed to remove a sitting arbiter. Though a president could amend the constitution as the head of the Presidium, it was tradition that kept the presidents of the past from interfering with the arbiter. Nonetheless, the Arbiter of Succession considered valid claims from senior party members upon the death or resignation of a president and was not allowed to hold any other office or position.
Snow continued, "Then what you may not be aware of is that presidents may leave what's known as an 'executive will' which plainly states who is to succeed to the Presidency, and who is to become Arbiter in the case of one's death in the middle of a succession dispute."
"I thought the cabinet had to vote on the arbiter," Alester spoke up.
"They do under normal circumstances. The death of an arbiter after the death of a president does not fall under normal circumstances. Make no mistake, whoever is poisoning me want to destabilize the government, incite fear in the faithful and hope in the defiant. They will stop at nothing until they accomplish this." The President reached behind himself and when his hand returned to view, it held a red envelope bearing the presidential seal. He offered it out for Alester to take. "If the Arbiter does indeed die after my death, give this envelope to the Chancellor, or if the worst comes to pass, Caesar Flickerman. Announcing the Arbiter publically is a last-ditch effort, but it is one you must be prepared to take."
The victor hesitantly reached out to take the envelope, the severity of their conversation fully weighing down on him. "If I may ask, sir, why are you trusting me with this? Why not one of your aides, or your family?"
"Because as I said, Mister Pierce, you are a symbol, beloved, respected, and feared," Snow replied succinctly. "If the worst does indeed come to pass, you will be the bastion of hope that this nation clings on to. With that letter, you hold the key to restoring order."
Alester slowly nodded, tucking the envelope underneath his pillow and relaxing back some. "I understand... I'll do as you ask, Mister President."
President Snow smiled as he rose from the chair. "Good." As he went to exit, his head turned to look at Alester again. "It's been a pleasure, Mister Pierce. Again, my congratulations." With that, he was gone, leaving Alester alone once again.
You've got to be kidding me.
A/N: Thank you for deciding to read my first prologue and welcome! This SYOT is set in an AU where Peeta died fighting Cato, leaving Katniss as the Sole Victor of the 74th Games. There was no rebellion and no unrest following her victory and business moved on as usual.
Now, President Snow's impending death is going to mark a fluctuation of power in Panem, one that changes everything. There are going to be a handful of prologue chapters following this one while submissions are made before we move on with the Reapings. Please keep in mind that while this is an SYOT, it is a story first and foremost and will focus on elements besides the Games, though the Games will obviously be a big part.
I have rules listed below that I ask you read before submitting. I also suggest reading through my Panem headcanons on my profile to get a better understanding of how I've built my Panem before starting to build your tribute. The tribute form is on my profile.
Again, thank you, and I hope you enjoy what's to come!
PLEASE READ - SYOT Rules
- I reserve the right to reject any submission, though I will always try and work with a submitter to make the submission satisfactory for the both of us.
- Submissions are not accepted on a first come first serve basis. I have deadlines by submissions for a wave are closed and then accepted by.
- Tributes must be submitted through either PMs here or through DMs on Discord(Username is GreenFyre#1370). Submissions made by review will not be accepted.
- Each user may submit up to four tributes. Please don't submit two tributes from the same District unless you have history or an idea for a storyline tying the two together.
- I do ask that applicants be as thorough as they can when filling out the application, especially in Appearance, Personality, History, and the Biography section. Remember that the more information you give me about your tribute, the better I can write them to your satisfaction and mine. Any submissions consisting of one word traits for personality and appearance (e.g. "Clever, humorous, hot-headed","blonde, brown eyes" etc.) won't be accepted.
- Additionally, it pays to be detailed in the strengths and weaknesses sections and provide more than just one word answers. Additionally, characters that are very unbalanced with strengths and weaknesses won't be accepted. I'm looking for realistic tributes, not Mary Sues.
- While faceclaims(actors/actresses and models used to represent a character's appearance) are not required, they are certainly appreciated. Users who choose to use a faceclaim do not have to be as thorough in the Appearance section, though a paragraph form is still required.
- Submissions consisting of reaped tributes from career districts will not be accepted. With so many kids dying(ha) to compete in the games, it's simply infeasible that there would be nobody volunteering in the career districts. On the other hand, while volunteers from the middle and outer districts won't be denied, good logic and reasoning have to be put into their decision to volunteer. Think about it as though you were your tribute and think on whether you would truly volunteer for something that was tantamount to a death sentence in the outer districts.
- If you're looking for your tribute to be the child of a victor either pre-existing or an uncreated one, message me before submitting so we can discuss the matter.
- If you have any other questions, please don't hesitate to ask me before submitting! I'm here to help!