-Margaret Jane Blackstone, 16- Rosemarie Benson-
I wake up in a bed, covered up in blankets, hearing the warm, gentle breath breathing gently against my shoulder. I don't remember getting into bed, and have a feeling that while I passed out sprawled out on my bedroom carpet knitting, I'd been taken to bed.
"Good morning," whispers a sleepy voice. I smile pushes its way across my lips.
"Good morning beautiful," I say quietly.
Hannah shakes me gently before sitting up, and I sit up, too. Even when she looks sleepy and her strawberry blonde hair is tousled, she's still the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life.
My mother didn't mind that I had Hannah over for the night before the reaping. She trusts us enough to know that we're too good to do anything she may not approve of. Hannah had been my best friend ever since I can remember, so my Mom definitely trusts her and her family. We had always been closer than friends, ever since we met, but we didn't figure that out until we were 13. It was horrific, that period of time that I knew I was in love with her and was too afraid to tell her. I was too scared that I would ruin our friendship if I told her I loved her. I'm not one to let my fear conquer me if I can help it, though, so I let it slip to her. She said she would let me know, reassured me that everything would be okay no matter what… We decided to give it a shot.
We've been happy together ever since. She's become my sunshine, she knows me better than everyone else, and I am grateful that she loves me so well. Not a bad life that I have here.
Coming out to my parents was horrifying, but I was determined to be brave. I was blessed to have accepting parents that love me, and that enjoy Hannah as well. Or, well, one parent.
See, that's where things kind of get dark. It's also the reason that I wanted to have Hannah over last night. She's the only one I trust enough to see me cry, really, besides my mother. I trust my little sister, of course, but she's only 5 and she looks up to me. She wouldn't take well to seeing her big sister Maggie in tears.
When I was fourteen, my father (who was an innocent civilian, mind you) was caught in a protest on his way home from work. He never made it home.
It's the one event in my life that completely knocked me down a few pegs. I miss him every day. Sometimes, I have these awful nightmares about him, and wake up crying. Once I'm up from those nightmares, the tears don't stop, nor am I going back to sleep any time soon.
I stayed awake with some knitting, and had asked Hannah to stay over for the night, as long as her family didn't mind. She was over as soon as she could be over. She sat with me while I mindlessly knitted. We sat in a comfortable silence for a while before the haunting memories of hearing that he won't come home and seeing his bleeding body came back. I started crying, and Hannah was there. I cried for a while, trying to knit to calm myself down while Hannah lay with me. When I passed out from the tears, she'd picked me up and carried me to bed, wrapping me up in blankets and snuggling up close just in case I were to have a bad dream.
You know, I don't think I did anything to deserve Hannah Alice Roth. She often says that she doesn't know what she did to be worthy of me, but I don't believe it when she says it anyways.
"We should get ready for the reaping," yawns Hannah. I nod, getting out of bed and quickly using the bathroom, washing my face, and brushing my teeth. When I glance at my reflection in the mirror, a (blurry), exhausted girl that still looks slightly like she's been crying stares back at me. I strip and get in the shower as Hannah brushes her teeth and does her hair and gets dressed.
I take the time to wake up with the gentle, warm water, and stretch out all my muscles, letting them feel relaxed and losing all their tension. I scrub my light tan skin, and shampoo my dark brown hair, rinsing off and taking my time until Hannah says, "Come on already, Maggie, your mother's calling for breakfast and I still have to help you get ready!"
"Fine," I sigh, cutting the shower short. I wrap a towel around my head so my mid-back-length hair doesn't drip, and put underwear and a robe so Hannah can come help me with my hair. She dries it out helps me blow-dry it, all as I watch her reflection in the mirror. She's blurry, but so familiar, and I can see her fun, light pink dress and know that I'm going to love it when I can actually see it. Then again, Hannah can make anything look good.
After my hair is mostly dry, Hannah puts it in her favorite style on me, a fishtail braid to the side. I sit still as she finishes her work, and then we move on to the actual reaping outfit. I slide into the to-my-knees dark purple dress and black tights, grumbling all the way because I absolutely hate how ridiculous they feel. Hannah sympathetically helps zip me up in the back and helps me into my wedged shoes, so now I practically appear like a giant next to my girlfriend. My beautiful little Hannah stands at the adorable height of 5'3, and at 5'6 plus heels, the height difference is noticeable.
Sometimes people like to pick on Hannah and call her a nerd (in the rude way), and those people get to answer to my fist. Everyone that calls either of us anything relating to manly or butch, they get kicked where the sun don't shine, or their teeth punched out, whichever will hurt more.
I am very protective of my girlfriend, and Hannah's always got my back. It's really the most perfect relationship I ever could've asked for.
After Hannah helps me put the horrid gunk on my face that people call make-up, she and I walk out to the kitchen together where my mother has breakfast on the table. My mother's dark blue eyes smile gently at us, whereas my little sister Sammie's eyes of the same color are bright and excited.
"Good morning, dears," Mom says, smiling. "How did you sleep?"
"Well, thank you," says Hannah, sitting at the table. She's practically part of the family, has been since we were kids. We eat some scrambled eggs and bacon, listening to Sammie chattering about her new favorite-colored crayon (it was the cornflower blue, but now it's the jade green), and other innocent things in the life of the 5-year-old. Hannah and I listen and provide intellectual commentary about these direly important issues.
Soon, though, Hannah and I go to the Academy to get a view of District 2's chosen volunteers. They each get a golden laurel crown for the reaping, so that everybody knows which of them was chosen to volunteer.
"I heard there wasn't a very good batch this year," Hannah says, as we walk down the street, hand-in-hand. I wish we could walk down the street holding hands without people staring at us like we're outliers or weird.
"It wouldn't surprise me. With Enobaria and Brutus at the head of the Academy's decision-making, I wouldn't be surprised if they made the recruits just duel it out and refused to pick anyone.
"What if nobody volunteered?" I ask, contemplating what would happen. "Would it become a precedent for the District to stop choosing volunteers?"
"Probably not," sighs Hannah. "If only. If nobody volunteered, then they would become even more violent. Push people even harder. The Games would implode on this District."
"Yeah, I suppose. It is customary for there to be a volunteer." We arrive to the Academy just as Enobaria and Brutus are shaking their heads. "No female volunteers have been selected this year. No one of you outshone the others." They tell the female tribute wannabes that whoever wants to volunteer is going to have to earn the right. The boy volunteer, though, is crowned. Justus Fiore stands on the stage, arms crossed, a smirk on his face. He looks powerful and mighty, and I know that nobody smart will volunteer to face him.
Hannah and I split from there just as everyone else is released on their way to the reaping. This year, Hannah and I aren't able to escape and get caught in the crowd of teens exiting to go to the reaping in a huge blob, the volunteer leading them.
However, this year, something weird happens. The crowd goes, but they leave without Justus. He looks slightly offended (he's not exactly well-liked), but takes the time to shake the hands of the Victors as Hannah and I leave. We're among the last in line, behind a couple holding hands and getting registered for the reaping, seeming bashful. Soon, they'll have to separate with a last kiss goodbye.
Not that they should really be a worry about who's reaped, anyways. Hannah and I have our blood taken and go to the 16 section together, hand-in-hand. This is one way that Hannah and I are so lucky, that we don't have to separate. I'm going to have her this whole time, and we can watch together, see the volunteers, dream of escaping…
The reaping starts when a fairly young woman steps onto the stage. She's not the grossest Capitolite I've ever seen before, with no adjustments to skin or plastic surgery that I can see, looking very much like a doll with bright purple eyes, pale skin, rosy cheeks, soft pink lips, and a sweet expression. She has very colorful hair, wound in to buns, one on each side of her head. She greets us and introduces herself as Vienna Turner, which is somewhat of a plain name for a Capitolite.
She shows us the video, obviously scanning the crowd to find the tributes with a golden laurel crown. The video ends and she picks the girl's name. "Matilda Byers!"
The girl steps out from the group of 13-year-olds. Vienna smiles. "Any volunteers?"
The crowd goes silent. The girls in front of me exchange glances. "…they would become even more violent. Push people even harder. The Games would implode on this District." The poor 13-year-old girl starts to look horrified, but none of the girls would volunteer to face Justus. I can't let this happen to the District, I can't break custom… I let go of Hannah's hand. She squeaks a little bit, but doesn't have time to stop me from shouting, "I volunteer!"
Everyone turns to look at me.
"Maggie," gasps Hannah, sounding shocked and upset. Tears come to her eyes. My heart shatters, but I stumble away from her, not looking at her, not after what I've just done. I make it up to the stage.
"Yes, wonderful! What's your name, dear?"
I swallow hard, speaking clearly into the microphone. "Maggie Blackstone."
"Wonderful!" Vienna smiles and looks extremely happy for me before going to pick the boy's name. Her hand doesn't even break the surface of the bowl, taking a paper from the very top center that almost seems to be sticking out from how the names were mixed up.
"Vidarr Yggdraval!" The crowd goes silent. A boy emerges from the 18 section, lankier than expected with light hair and dark eyes.
"Any volunteers for this young man?" The crowd goes silent. Everyone looks around for Justus, expecting him to burst out last-minute dramatically, as is usual. Vienna doesn't pause for as long as she did for the girls, smiling benevolently.
"Everyone, your tributes for the 84th annual Hunger Games, Maggie Blackstone and Vidarr Yggdraval!"
.
-Vidarr Yggdraval, 18- Sinfonian Legend-
I wake up to an empty bed. I sit up, confused.
"Ashe?" I ask, my voice cracking a bit from sleepiness. "Ashe?"
I get out of bed, not even feeling ashamed at walking around the house in boxers and a thin T-shirt anymore. I poke my head around to the bathroom, where I find my young, beautiful wife swearing into the toilet.
"Ashe!" I go over, taking her dark hair and holding it back from her face. "Are you alright, dear?"
"I just… It must be the flu. I felt god-awful last night, too," she says, sounding hoarse and definitely not like the powerful Ashe I knew. My dearest resumes retching into the toilet, and my heart breaks to see her like this. I gently rub her back as she hurls up the contents of her stomach into the toilet. "Do you want me to try to find some remedies for that?" I only bring up my knowledge of remedies at certain times because it's very limited compared to my knowledge of poisons. Which is something that I'd much rather Ashe forget about me.
I had been sent by Snow to kill her father, and the plan had completely and utterly backfired. I didn't ever expect being forced into hiding, married to Ashe. It's all been worth it, though, because I'm living happily with my dearest, and this is my last reaping.
Ashe was saying that she was able to find out how the male volunteer, though District 2 has been getting more and more harsh on who they deem worthy to volunteer.
Right now, though, my beautiful wife isn't really in a position to deal with me. She's too busy calling the toilet a "Bitch-ass pig-shit cunt-nugget!" to care about one single other thing. Finally, once Ashe's stomach has thoroughly cleared itself of all contents, she stands up, her usually vibrant caramel skin paler than normal, looking slightly discombobulated. I help her to the sink to get some water to sip and rinse out her mouth. She rinses and spits and few times before swallowing down a small sip.
"Thanks," she says quietly. I kiss the back of her neck, knowing she won't be offended because I definitely don't want to be sick.
"Good morning," I say, smiling at her slightly teasingly. "I think we've got something plain for breakfast." She nods. I leave her only to get my glasses (bought from the thrift store) and slide them on my face. They're not exactly perfect, but close enough that most things have details.
I take her hand and together we move out to the kitchen, enjoying the brightness of morning from our small window, only affected by a layer of dust and grime. Our place is far from great, but because Ashe is here, it's home.
My beautiful wife's full name is Ayesha, and she's the apple of my eye. I don't think I could do anything without her, to be honest. I'm even willing to catch the flu if it means helping her out. She was well-off and engaged to be married to some douche her parents were fond of. And yet, she chose to run away, therefore losing it all, for me. And I'm very far from perfect.
Before meeting Ashe I was a completely different person. She changed me for the better, she put a special new hatred for the Capitol in my heart. I hadn't hated them before meeting Ashe, I had actually been one of Snow's most talented puppets, doing his dirty work for him. I can't believe I was ever that person, and yet I was. Ashe is the reason I changed, the reason I gave up my work for the President, and the reason to this very day that I abhor the Capitol and their stupid Games.
Now, though, there's none of that heavy stuff. It's just homely, and warm, and peaceful. I like to think my life didn't really start until Ashe and I ran away together. Ashe's beautiful blue eyes smile at me as she nibbles on a cracker.
"Just because I don't want to eat doesn't mean that you shouldn't," she says, giving me a gentle kick under the table. "You don't have to be hungry just out of pity for me." She smiles. I know she's right. Even though I know she'd like to have a good breakfast like mine, I eat.
"Just one more reaping, Vi," she whispers. I'm sure she would wrap her arms around me if she weren't so ill. My poor Ashe.
Even when she's sick she's smiling, and even when she's just tossed all her cookies, she's still beautiful.
Man.
I am in soooooo deep.
And, of course, I love it.
Ashe and I go back to the small, dim bedroom that we share, where we find our reaping clothes to change into. I put on something simple (that was easily bought with stolen money). Ashe wears a cute, simple gray dress with black leggings and fuzzy boots. Her gray scarf completes the outfit, and her sunny blue eyes are impossible to look away from.
She runs a brush through her hair but doesn't feel very keen on putting too much effort into her outfit, and I wouldn't either if I were sick, in all honesty. I style my white-blond hair up from my face, using some gel (bought with stolen money… But don't tell Ashe) to make sure it stays up.
In the other room, I hear Ashe giggle a little bit. I look in to see her sitting with the TV on. "Vi! This guy looks like you," she says, sounding a lot more lively and like herself, which really is a relief to hear.
"Does he now? What Games?"
"Thirty-six."
"Old one," I remark, sitting down and looking at the pack of Careers walking together on the screen. "Why would they be showing this when it's so old?"
"They're showing scenes from each one, I think. I'm not sure." She shrugs. "That guy's not nearly as attractive as you, though."
I laugh, she smiles at me. I want to give her lots of kisses and cuddles, but right now's probably not the best time for that. Oh, well, I'll have plenty of time for that once she's feeling better.
"I'm serious, though. After all, he doesn't have the night sky in his eyes. Nobody has the night sky in their eyes like you do."
I grin at her, my dearest Ashe. "Nobody has the sunny blue sky in their eyes like you do, though." She giggles, glancing at the screen.
"Seriously, though. Are you sure you're not distantly related to that guy? You very well could be."
"I feel like if I had a relative in the Games, I'd definitely know about it." She turns off the television.
"Come on," she says, her voice light and playful, "Let's get to our last reaping." I take her hand and together, we go to the Town Square.
Everything seems so much brighter when I have my Ashe with me.
"How's Amir doing?" asks Ashe quietly, smiling.
"He's doing alright. Haven't talked to him in a long while, though." He's got a lot of issues, really.
"Hm."
We walk together in a comfortable silence, her hand fitting perfectly in mine, comfortable, with a sunny sky and a slight summer breeze. We get to the Town Square after the hoard of Academy trainees, getting our blood taken before we have to separate.
I pull Ashe over to the side to avoid being run into and kiss her forehead. "I'll find you after the reapings, my dearest. Then we can go get some remedies for that stomach."
"I'll try not to projectile vomit during the reaping," she says, before she bursts out laughing, causing the laugh to be infectious. I love to see my Ashe happy. Ashe follows two girls walking hand-in-hand and I go to the 18's section. As I'm walking past, I hear exclamations that sound like they're coming from a boy my age. I wonder what happened but shrug it off and walk to my spot.
The video plays, and I try not to cringe. The escort for this year is not as bad as many but still way too vibrant for my taste. I try to find Ashe in the crowd of eighteen-year-olds. The escort whose name I didn't even care to learn goes to the girl's bowl first. She picks a name and reads it loud and clear. The girl, a 13-year-old, makes it to the stage without anyone calling out to take her place. I start to think that this may be the day that District 2 has a reaped tribute. The escort asks for volunteers, drawing out the question and lingering on it, giving plenty of opportunity. Soon, though, someone does volunteer, loud and clear, stepping out from the section of 16-year-olds and making her way to the stage, all while the District sits in silence.
She's a girl that looks obviously uncomfortable to be wearing high heels and a dress, and by the time she announces her name to be Maggie Blackstone, she looks as if she's in disbelief of what she's done.
Then, the escort steps over to the boy's bowl, smiling brightly at all of us as if this is so exciting and fun. She hums to herself happily, and I feel sick (great, I'm already getting it from Ashe… Or maybe it's just from hatred of the Capitol… I don't know!). She doesn't bury her hand too deeply into the list of names, picking up a piece of paper sticking up right from the top. A sudden sense of dread comes over me, for a reason I couldn't explain to you.
"Vidarr Yggdraval!" The District seems confused, as if nobody remembers who I am anymore since I ran away. Not like I have any family or real friends besides Ashe, anyways. I've always been isolated. I make my way up to the stage, waiting expectantly for someone to volunteer to take my place, as is the custom. I scan the crowd for any sign of the laurel crown of the volunteer. Surely there are many bloodthirsty people to take my place… I couldn't last in the Games.
I make it up to the stage, finding nobody in the crowd intent on volunteering for me. When I make the mistake of looking over to the girls, I find Ashe, and make eye contact, and then she looks away from me and stares into the ground. She has no shoulder to cry on… I want to run down there and hug her, let her cry into my shoulder, but I have to keep my place, and really I have to look like this was completely planned and it doesn't bother me at all.
"Any volunteers?" She doesn't wait long, cutting the question short as she announces, "Everyone, Your tributes for the 84th annual Hunger Games, Maggie Blackstone and Vidarr Yggdraval!"
The crowd goes into timid applause for the two completely misfit volunteers from District 2. Maggie shakes my hand with a tight grip, and I realize that I was just reaped into the Games. And I have trouble believing it was incidental.
I guess the fun part will be seeing the strings Snow had to pull to get me, a boy from District 2 who did not go to the Academy and never wanted to be in the Games, to go into the Arena completely against his will.
I laugh a little bit, trying to focus on that instead of the impending death.
Yeah, I suppose being one of the Capitol's top assassins as a teen was a lot of pressure, and very life-or-death, but I felt prepared for that and had the talent and the mentality for it at the time. Now, though, it's completely the opposite.
I walk back to the Justice Building, a lump forming in my throat.
.
My first visitor comes in on crutches, his leg wrapped up tightly in bandages, wearing a golden laurel crown.
"Huh?"
"You were reaped."
"Y-Yeah." I try to hold it together.
"You're going into the Games."
"It was supposed to be you," I observe, "But…."
"Some Peacekeeper was firing practice shots and fired while drawing his pistol back. Incompetent," he growls. "My leg is practically shattered and they wouldn't even let me come to see you. I came to make sure you know that you have to uphold the honor of your District." He puts the golden laurel crown on my head, and my stomach turns uncomfortably.
"Good luck, Kid. Have fun living out my dream." He crutches out of the room, and I can see he's bleeding through his bandages.
Ashe is the next to visit. I have a feeling she'll be the only.
Seeing her come in, so dark, and sad, by herself, makes me start to panic. I feel short of breath, my heart beats harder, my vision blurs, trying to imagine Ash without me, trying to figure out how I might possibly live without her, how horrid of a husband I would be if I left her to fight for herself without me… It's too much, these thoughts are too much to bear.
I always thought about how my past might bite me in the ass. I stayed awake thinking about when it might happen. But, in the happiness of the times recently, I had completely forgotten all about it and expected the Capitol to do the same.
No. They never got over it. They just wanted to find the perfect moment to humiliate both of us and have their revenge.
"Ashe, this is all because of me, I'm sorry, I didn-I didn't kn-ow wh-wha-what would happen I didn't th-ink ta-that this would hap-hap-happen t-to m-e," I don't really remember how to speak out of fear and grief, I gasp for air, I can feel myself panicking.
Ashe wraps her arms gently around my neck. "You'll be okay," she whispers, her voice perfectly steady and gentle, "You have lots of strengths the other tributes don't. You have experience. If you keep your head clear and your incentives in your head, you can make it home. Vi, I love you. Vi, you can come home, okay? I know you can come home.
"I love you too, Ashe," I say, putting in a conscience effort not to stutter. It's the only thing I'm sure of anymore. Ashe holds me and I hug her back, shaking and gasping, feeling her breathe, gently and calmly, and steadily. I let her bring me back with it.
She kisses me one last time (not even minding how sick she is, does that even matter anymore?), and then wraps her gray scarf around my neck.
"I need you to come home to me," she whispers. I nod.
.
Maggie
My mother and sister are the first to visit me.
My Mom takes me into a tight hug, her face sad and desolate but trying to control her tears. "We need you here, Maggie," she whispers. "We're already missing your father…" a lump forms in my throat, "We can't lose you too." She doesn't ask me why I volunteered or try to guilt-trip me for it, which I appreciate. I don't know if I could tell her why I did it.
I get on my knees to be Sammie's height. "I'm going away," I say.
"Mommy said…" she says, sounding confused. "Why?"
"I'm going to play a game. But I'll be back soon."
"Why did you volunteer to play the game Maggie?"
I smile a little bit. "Because I want to win the prize. Don't worry, I'll be back soon, and things will change for the better." I kiss the top of the head, "I love you, Princess."
"I love you too," she giggles.
I stand back up to face my mother. "Make sure Dad's dagger never leaves your sight. I couldn't stand anything happening to it while I'm gone." I wish I could've taken my father's dagger as a token, but it's a weapon, which wouldn't be allowed. It's going to be hard to spend these couple weeks without wearing it around my waist, which is how I always remember my father. She nods, agreeing to watch it.
I hug and kiss my mother one last time. "I love you," she says.
"I love you too, Mom. See you in a few weeks."
Hannah is the next and last person to visit. She wraps her arms around me, holding me close, burying her face in my neck.
"Why?" she asks quietly, sniffling a little bit.
"I had to. Don't worry, though. I'm trained. I'm a fighter. I have you, the most perfect and beautiful girl in the whole District, the whole world to come back to."
She sighs quietly, nuzzling my neck, pressing her soft lips to the skin gently.
She only pulls back to put a necklace around my neck. "This is from generations of my family to you." It's a little, jade turtle, and it's quite pretty. "Never forget me," she whispers quietly, looking into my eyes (which makes my knees weak she's so beautiful).
"I'll never forget. Thank you."
"God, I love you," she says, her sweet, soft lips enclosing mine in a gentle kiss, which I'm eager to return. I savor every feeling, every taste, every touch… She pulls back much too soon.
"I love you too."
She's escorted out of the room.
Before I know it, Vienna and some Peacekeepers collect myself and my District partner from our rooms and escort us onto the train that will take us to the Capitol.
A/N: This was another long one. I just really like these characters! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I liked to write it, it was quite fun. All the opportunities for fluff!
There are lots of mentors/escorts open so please check those out if you're interested! Also, some SYOTS for you to check out and give love and tributes to: The Price We Pay by The Awesome Novice Writer and The 149th Games-Chessboard by epictomguy. Those should both be updated fairly consistently :)
Chapter Question: To my D2 submitters: How did you like your characters? To everyone else: Who did you like more and why?
Scores (alphabetized for more convenience!):
AbbyCorabby123: 10
A-Bookworm-Named-Steph: 26
Beauty. Is. Strange: 61
Blonde4ever: 62
Coolgal02: 61
CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean: 31
Dreamer: 237
dreams and desperation: 36
elisa. anya: 5
Emrys Holmes: 46
epictomguy: 14
fat necrosis: 22
falyn. oliver: 43
hopefuldreamer1991: 134
Ibbonray: 35
Jalen Kun: 2
Jess: 251
Josephm611: 32
Kate: 193
Xx-Katerina-xX: 16
Kyoko Rose: 26
Lady Lysa Arryn: 77
LokiThisIsMadness: 16
magicharity: 163
Medium-Indigo (Guest): 60
Music Rules The World: 4
Mystical Pine Forest: 20
nevergone4ever: 2
xxPeppermintxx109: 31
Programming: 7
xQueen-of-Applesx: 40
rising-balloons: 75
Rosemarie Benson: 12
santiago. poncini20: 31
Seahorse8: 12
seaotter99: 22
Sinfonian Legend: 275
superneet1214: 6
Skyflapple: 11
ThisWorldWeHate: 17
We're All Okay: 31
W. R. Winters: 36
