I have no idea how old Merlin is—early 20's(?)—so I am putting him as age 23. A noted rule for this Hunger Game: ages 12-18 will have their names in while ages 19-25 will only have their names in if they are without husband or wife.

THE HOME DISTRICT

The trip was long, an occasional harsh wind fought to blow him off his course. Merlin's horse was panting, a slight amount of foam dribbling from her mouth. The thinning trees finally broke off revealing a simple village-like community, dreary looks upon many of the passersby.

The mare trotted along a thin, dirt path, hoofs making a rhythmic clomp as they hit the solid ground exhaustedly. The turning of heads was not an unusual action, odd looks passing over those who spotted him. Merlin's eyelids were drooping having not slept due to the rush to get to his destination before the Reaping began.

He soon reached the district's stable, pulling his leg to the other side and dropping down to his wobbly feet. He passed the worn reigns over to the stable-master who brushed his tanned and coarse hands through the mare's drenched mane. A flicker of recognition brimmed the man's almond brown eyes, a small grimace making its way to his chapped lips.

"So, you have finally returned," the man's voice was stern yet a sliver of kindness could be made out of it. Merlin gave his own grimace to the man before speaking himself, "Aye, I got a letter to compete in the games or face the Capital's wrath. I guess you just can't escape them, huh?" The stable-master led the horse to a stall, a deep smell of manure wafting through the noses of the two men.

He nodded his head thoughtfully, "I would offer a place in my home for you until the Reaping but, well, Alice hasn't been so well since—." Merlin looked down, "I wouldn't want to impose anyways. Hannah was a good girl; she didn't deserve what she went through, Dave. She really didn't."

Dave smiled sadly, little warmth in his eyes with the memory of his little girl, "She fought bravely with what little magic she had, my little girl." Merlin nodded his head, a saddened look upon his face from the young girl's memory, before he distanced himself from the man who was, for no better words, lost in his own past.

Merlin's thin leather boots hit the harsh earth with delicate steps, his long arms swinging with every step. One would think, looking around, that the district would be rich with life, ripe with fruit, and full of smiles. 'If only that were so,' Merlin thought sadly. The district would be if the Capital wouldn't take all those with the power to do so, leaving only those with weak power or none at all. It was an unfair disadvantage to the district who could only work on with magic, the only skill taught except for occasional short lessons on the basics of self-defense.

He was lucky, he supposed, that none had found out his true power, unlike his little sister. She was not so powerful, not as powerful as he or Morgana were, but she was powerful enough to be called to the Capital for her skills. He remembered the day perfectly; she was six and he was eight at the time.

She had been playing in the forest, an illegal act that was ignored most of the time—those with magic usually cared for the plants and animals as friends, not food. They caught her, attempted to tie her up but she defended herself and, in doing so, used her magic. Another sorcerer quickly dispatched her and she was brought to the Capital to train, just like the sorcerer who caught her did.

'If only I had been there with her', he often thought to himself. Soon, Merlin was at the local inn, its rundown structure blooming doubt into his mind. Being a district, and the farthest out, the inn barely, if ever, filled up. The only ones who ever stayed there were the regulars and when an occasional homeless man finally saved enough to stay for a night.

He opened the door delicately, the rusted hinges creaking under the light movement. The door frame hung low causing Merlin to duck his head to avoid hitting it, something that caused soft laughter to echo through the small inn. A young woman, perhaps a year younger than him, walked into his vision, her hair dark and skin tanned to match most of the other people. Her familiar eyes sparked a memory in his mind of a little girl who would play with his sister when she was still around and, later, he himself.

A name quickly dug itself out of his mind and onto his parched tongue, "Anna! You are looking as beautiful as ever!" She laughed shyly, a pink blush making its way across her cheeks and down her neck, "You are too kind, Emrys. I, on the other hand, am not! Your ears have gotten bigger and you have definitely gotten lankier!"

Merlin copied her blush, though a deeper red and it didn't stop until it reached the tip of his ears, and showed off a fake pout that just showed how much of a girl he was, "You are too cruel, Anna! We have not seen one another in years and here you are insulting me." Another one of her laughs rung out, "I suppose you are wanting a room?"

He ignored her laugh and nodded, "Please, my lady." Anna looked at the man oddly, "Have you been around nobles as of late?" Merlin smirked comically, "Indeed, I have. What's it to you?" Anna stared at him, her green eyes flickered with brown resting upon his own soft blue, "Nothing! Here, your room key."

Merlin smiled and thanked her, walking up the unsteady stairs, "It's room number thirteen!" He smiled grimly, "Of course it is."