Aula Vegas, age 19
Capitol University Undergraduate Student
Aula adjusted the summer turquoise wig in the mirror, loving the way the waves fell down her shoulders and framed her face. So feminine. She tucked a strand behind her ear, and smoothed out the sunflower patterned sundress she wore. It had been six months since the Gamemaker Deposition had happened and speculation about the new Games Committee had begun. Now in a few hours, the reapings for the 151st Hunger Games would take place.
And Aula had to go back to Capitol University for it.
At least she wouldn't be alone. Cicero and Ulysses would be there too, because they also had majors relating to the Games. All students with Hunger Games adjacent majors had to go back to the school for the duration of the Games in order to further their studies. Aula was pretty sure only her twin was excited for that.
"Come on, Aula," Cicero called from downstairs. "We need to go."
"Coming!" Aula grabbed her duffel bags and headed down to meet her sister and their parents. Ulysses and his father were waiting in their car outside.
"Have so much fun," her mother chirped, giving Aula a hug. "And please be safe."
Please be safe. Aula could remember a time when her mother didn't have to tell her and Cicero to be safe every time they left her sight. The riots last year had done a number on her mother's confidence in the safety of the Capitol. "We will," Cicero promised.
Their father gave the two girls a hug, then said, "Go get 'em, you two."
The drive back to the school and moving into the dorm room passed by in a blur. Aula was sharing one of the cramped rooms with Cicero, with Ulysses just next door with his roommate for the next month or so, Cygnus Serpens. Aula had seen Cygnus around campus a few times, but didn't know him particularly well.
"At least the TV is already set up," Cicero said as Aula was making her bed. "No extra work needed there."
"You wouldn't have been able to figure it out anyways," Aula joked, and Cicero threw a pillow at her.
"We're not all tech majors."
"Hunger Games Tech major," Aula corrected. "There's a difference."
"So you're saying you wouldn't have been able to hook up the TV?"
"Oh, I could do that no problem." Aula climbed onto her bed. "It's not that hard."
"I rest my case." Cicero also climbed onto her own bed and flicked the TV on, scrolling to the channel the reapings would be shown on. The two new Games anchors, Eleni Virgo and Desdemona Palacio, were sitting together, speculating about what kinds of tributes there would be, how many volunteers how come up, things like that. It truly took talent to talk about nothing the way these two had been for the last couple of days now.
Finally they'll get actual substance, Aula thought, checking her watch. Five minutes until the program would be sent to District One to reveal the first tributes in two years.
Cicero pulled her tablet out of her backpack, opening it to a blank note. Aula watched her sister title the top of the note with 151st Hunger Games in her tight scrawl, then write District One beneath it. Her line of studies made the reaping one of the most important parts of the Games. "Where's Ulysses?" Cicero wondered out loud.
Aula just shrugged even though Cicero couldn't see her. "He should be here soon enough. We have two minutes until the reapings start."
Almost as if on cue, a knock sounded on the door. Aula got up and opened the door for Ulysses, who also had his own tablet to take notes on the tributes. As a Hunger Games Journalism and Media major, he would have to write mock articles about the Games while they went on. And that included the reaping and first impressions of the tributes. "I'm not late, am I?"
"You're just in time," Cicero said, then turned the volume up on the television. Aula closed the door, then raced to her bed again to watch as Ulysses took a seat at the desk on Aula's side of the room. Some parts of the Games were a little too gruesome for Aula, but she had to admit the reapings were exciting. A new start, a fresh batch of tributes to add new life into something that had been a part of life in Panem for 151 years now.
The square of District One filled the screen, the mayor rattling on about something Aula didn't particularly care to hear, then the escort skipped onto stage. Somehow the escorts had escaped the Gamemaker Disposition, and this woman did not appear fazed by that. By the fact that she had miraculously escaped death when so many other members of the Games Committee from last year hadn't been so lucky. "Ladies first!" she trilled from the television.
"Here we go," Aula said, leaning forward. Cicero thumbed the volume up more, then readied her stylus over the tablet screen.
The escort read a name, then a cry of "I volunteer!" The cameras panned to the first row of the reaping pen, zooming in tight on a short blonde girl with her hand high in the air. The volunteer made her way to the stage, her jade green eyes locked on the escort, as if daring her to not take the volunteer. She introduced herself as Olympia Argentum.
The boy from One volunteered, too, another muscular blond named Caspian Grace. Big surprise. There would be more volunteers, Aula knew, but it got boring after a little while. Tributes volunteering thinking they'll win and ending up dead weeks later.
"Interesting showing so far," Cicero noted as the program faded to District Two.
"Nothing out of the ordinary, though," Ulysses said. "Other districts will have more prominent first impressions." Aula was inclined to agree with him.
District Two also had two volunteers, but these two kept eyeing each other as they stood on the stage. Rhea Dasher and Matthias Kane. If they didn't have two different last names, Aula would have thought the two were siblings, both with olive skin and jet black hair. "Something's up with those two," Aula said.
Ulysses hummed, writing something on his tablet. "They might know each other. Maybe some bad blood?" He drummed his fingers on the desk. "I'm not sure, I'd have to rewatch it to make sure."
"You could also wait until the Gamemakers release the info on the tributes," Cicero added. "You know they do that for the students."
"Maybe," Ulysses said as District Three materialized on the screen. A crying girl and a stunned boy were reaped, Sphere Coulomb and Kepler Gromet. They won't last long. Aula couldn't remember the last time District Three had been a real contender in the Games. "When was the last time Three won?" Aula asked.
Cicero knew immediately, not even pausing to think for a moment. "The 130th Games. Pyxel Estrada."
"How do you just know that?" Ulysses demanded.
"I remember a lot about the people in the Games."
"We weren't even born yet, though" Aula pointed out, but Cicero shushed her because District Four was on screen. Two more volunteers, a freckled redhead girl named Ostreya Walsh and a tanned brunette named Couwry Scopulus.
"Lots of older tributes so far this year," Cicero said absently. "So far the youngest is that girl from Three. She's fifteen."
Aula picked at her nails. "Maybe the new Head wanted older tributes to make these Games better. It's always so sad when the younger kids are picked."
"Maybe," Cicero agreed.
Another fifteen year old was picked in District Five. Conic Barnes. And when the escort introduced them as the female tribute, Conic said, "Not female. I'm nonbinary."
And a flare of anger lit up inside of Aula. How could the reapings still be so intolerant of gender? How could it be so rigid when not everybody conformed to the gender they were born as? All she could think when she saw a tribute misgendered because of the archaic reaping practices was that if she was reaped, she would be reaped male. It wasn't right. But she couldn't do anything about it.
The boy from Five, Simeon Sierpinski, had to be dragged to the stage by Peacekeepers as he looked around, seemingly confused. He kept pursing his lips and wringing his hands. "Maybe he has some kind of neurodivergence," Ulysses suggested, sounding upset.
"What's wrong with that?" Cicero asked, giving him a pointed look.
Ulysses spluttered. "Nothing. It just won't be that helpful in the Games."
"It's not that helpful anyways," Cicero muttered.
Aula just shook her head, disappointed with her country for what it had done to these two.
A painfully skinny seventeen year old girl was reaped in District Six, Farrah Ellipse. Tremors ran throughout her body as she stood on stage, waiting for her district partner to be called. And Aula's heart sank as the name "Walter Fairborough" caused the twelve year old section to part around a boy with shaggy black hair. He sobbed as Peacekeepers brought him to the stage.
"That's awful," Ulysses said.
"But it's the reality of the Games," Cicero told him.
Another reality of the Games happened in District Seven when the escort called out the name "Liliana Trunk!" The chosen tribute had sloppily shorn hair and stomped to the stage, then grabbed the microphone from the escort and said into it, "It's Russett. My name is Russett Trunk. Haven't you pricks ever heard of trans people before?"
Aula glared at her sister. "Is that another reality of the Games?"
Cicero paled. "Aula, that's not what I meant..."
But Aula was already started and she wasn't stopping. "The reaping system is such bullshit. Don't have the slots be gendered! It's that easy! You don't have to deadname and misgender people just because rules were written a hundred and fucking fifty one years ago. Rules can change." In her rant, she nearly missed the Seven boy being called out, a thirteen year old named Clifford Valley.
The other two didn't speak for a while. Aula seethed on her bed, the unfairness of the gendered system swirling throughout her mind. She was lucky enough to be able to afford to change her birth certificate from male to female, but the district kids could never do that. And so before they were shipped to the Capitol to die, they were humiliated in front of the entire nation. She couldn't imagine the fear of being named a tribute period, let alone if the name called was her deadname.
As the District Eight escort dug her hand into the girls' reaping ball on screen, Ulysses said quietly, "It is bullshit. But it's what we have. Maybe they'll change it in the future?"
Aula huffed. "Maybe." She watched the reaped girl, Sasha Bobbin, mount the steps. She was pretty, with rich brown skin and curly black hair. Her district partner was Kent Hollister, a fifteen year old with one arm ending abruptly at the elbow.
"That's not good," Cicero said mostly to herself.
"He must have lost it in a factory accident," Ulysses speculated. Aula did not offer any input, still fuming.
District Nine had two more reaped tributes, neither of them making much of an impression, just taking the stage after a moment or two of stunned silence. Mallory Kennan and Milo Buchanan. Mallory kept fidgeting with her amber colored hair while Milo just stood on the stage, his gaze fixed on some point far in the distance. District Ten reaped its two tributes too, more reality of the Games. Fourteen year old Betsy Denver didn't cry, but the other tribute did, shakily correcting the escort. "I'm not... Gavin," she said, choking the name out. "I'm Maxine. Maxine Garcia." Aula just closed her eyes, anger simmering underneath her skin. Fourteen and deadnamed and clearly traumatized from hearing her old name. Cicero and Ulysses wisely didn't say anything.
The last two districts weren't that noteworthy, either. District Eleven reaped thirteen year old Daphne Callahan and sixteen year old Nash Cordero. Either had that much fanfare, although Daphne took the stage with her shoulders curled forwards, and air of acceptance around her. Aula couldn't think that deeply into it though, the phrase reality of the Games bouncing around in her skull. District Twelve produced Ione Violet and Reid Lennon, and the screen faded back to Eleni Virgo and Desdemona Palacio while the two of them were shaking hands.
"And there are your tributes, folks!" Eleni announced. "This seems like an interesting batch, don't you think so, Desdemona?"
"I agree," Desdemona was saying, but Cicero turned off the TV. She wrote one last thing on her tablet, then shut it off and put it on her desk.
"I'm excited," Cicero announced. "I mean, we haven't had a Games in two years."
"And the tributes are looking pretty good," Ulysses added.
"Apart from the misgendering." Aula laid back in bed. "But this year should be good. I'm mostly just excited for the arena." The arena and all the wonderous technology that went into making the Games run smoothly.
It was almost enough to break her out of the reality of the Games rage.
Antony Templum, age 25
Head Gamemaker
Antony raised their glass of champagne, the circular table falling silent. All because of me. Antony couldn't hide the grin splitting their face.
"A toast," they proclaimed, "to the 151st Hunger Games. May it be the greatest Games that Panem has ever seen!" Cheers erupted from the table, and Antony clinked their glass against Cornelia Astor's, who was sitting to their right, and Remington Tiber's, their Assistant Head sitting on their opposite side. They drank, the fizzy liquid tasting just like victory.
After all, this was a victory of sorts. They were the first nonbinary Head Gamemaker in history, they were the youngest Head Gamemaker in history, they had an excellent batch of tributes to work with, and they were on top of the world. They held all the power they had ever dreamed of.
All they had to do now was keep it.
A procession of Avoxes came out carrying silver platters. The Avoxes placed each plate down in front of each person at the table, Antony's piled with grilled chicken and scalloped potatoes and a variety of roasted vegetables, their favorite. They dug right in, but could not enjoy this one celebratory meal without somebody wanting to bother them.
"I've run background checks on all the tributes," Remington was saying, his mouth full. Antony's lip curled watching him. "It doesn't look like there are any troublemakers in the ring this year. Maybe Liliana Trunk from District Seven..."
"I think you mean Russett," Antony corrected, their gut kicking at hearing the deadname. Just use his given name. It's not that difficult.
"Of course, Russett." Remington swallowed noisily. "Russett might cause some problems given what happened at the reaping, but I think we can handle that."
"Wonderful," Antony said. "Isn't that just what we want?"
"Yes, yes, of course." Remington wiped his mouth with a napkin. "I just thought you would like to know."
"Do you think I don't know what is happening in the Games that I am to run, Remington?" Antony's voice was calm and collected, but the threat was still clearly there. Wisely, Remington did not say anything else.
The rest of the dinner passed, and then it was time for the party. Avoxes cleared the table and a handful held doors open that led into a grand ballroom in the presidential mansion. Cornelia had decided that the Games Committee and the newer political leaders should have a gathering of sorts to celebrate the return of the Games, and also to let people mingle with their new co-workers.
Antony stood from the table and extended their elbow to Cornelia. "Ready to go, Madam President?"
The president slipped her arm through Antony's, giving them a smile. "Let's be on our way."
Antony led Cornelia through the doors and into the ballroom, with its vaulted ceilings and long tables of refreshments and orchestral music floating through the air. They whistled. "Nice work for your first presidential party."
"Sethos helped," Cornelia admitted. "He knew a lot more about this than I did."
"Well, you'll get to host many more of these once you're elected president." Antony grinned and Cornelia laughed lightly.
"If I am elected president." The two wandered over to one of the refreshments table, each grabbing a flute of champagne.
"If I have any say in the matter, you'd be elected tomorrow." Antony lowered their voice. "You did a fantastic job with the rigged reapings. Lots of older tributes."
"I deliver on my promises, Antony." Cornelia took a sip of the champagne, her dark purple lipstick leaving a mark on the glass. "You wanted players, and I gave you players."
"That you did." Antony also sipped at their champagne, trying to think of how to bring up their new concern about the reapings. They eventually settled on "The binary reaping system is so antiquated, don't you think?"
Cornelia drained her glass them placed it back on the table. "Please explain."
"Not everybody falls into the male or female gender. This includes the district kids."
"Antony." Cornelia sighed. "I can't change the reaping. I'm only interim president."
"I'm not asking you to." Not yet at least, they added in their head. "I just don't think it's very fair to those three tributes who were reaped as a gender they are not." They had cemented themselves in Antony's mind: Conic Barnes, Russett Trunk, Maxine Garcia.
"I don't think it's very fair to them either," Cornelia told them. "But I can't do anything about that right now. And I probably shouldn't even say that," she added, looking around. "What if someone hears me?"
"I think you'll be fine." Antony drained their flute of champagne, too, the bitter liquid tasting less and less like victory and more like an uphill battle.
"I can't be criticizing the Games like that, Antony. I'm not the president."
"You're the closest thing we have to a president." Antony's voice rose as their frustration built.
"If I keep saying thing like that though, I won't ever be president," Cornelia said. She tucked strands of her bleached blonde hair behind her ears, showing off the black stone teardrops dangling from her earlobes. "I need to stay on the good side of the politicians."
"And standing up for your beliefs isn't the way to do that?" Antony demanded.
"That's not what I'm saying..."
"Then why can't you say anything?"
Cornelia closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "A lot of the politicians don't want the Games changed whatsoever. If they hear me saying things like this, then they would never let me be president full time."
"Maybe they aren't the kind of people you should be trying to impress then." The solution seemed simple in Antony's mind. They would never stoop themself to the level of trying to stay in the good graces of bigots.
"I don't have a choice!" Cornelia's head swiveled side to side after the outburst. Antony assumed she was looking out for the old politicians she held in such high regard. "If I want to do this, I have to impress them. And I do want to do this, Antony." She gazed out towards the rest of the ballroom, her eyes unfocused. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "I want this."
"There should be another way."
"There's not." Antony resisted the urge to shrink under the hardness of Cornelia's voice. Clearly, she was done talking to them about this. "I should make my rounds. I'm sure I'll see you eventually."
They nodded. "I should make mine, too. I'll see you later, Madam President."
Antony surveyed the ballroom with all of the politicians and Gamemakers mingling. After what Cornelia said, they did not want to talk to any of the politicians at any cost. They only had to stay in her good graces. And if Cornelia was not elected president, they had to stay in the good graces of the president who was elected. And they could deal with that when the problem arose. Or even if the problem arose.
Because the Head Gamemaker really only worked closely with the president on the political side.
That was the reality of the Games.
Chapter two is in the books! Thoughts on the two new POVs we got? Do you like Aula? Antony? Thoughts on the dynamics between characters so far? On the chapter as a whole? There will be more new relationships next chapter, so stay tuned for that!
And the tributes were also revealed this chapter. I'll put a full list of names and ages on my profile so that it's easier to access and view than it was in Aula's POV. Keep in mind that the Games will be told from these Capitol characters' perspectives so we won't see more of the tributes than they'll be seeing, so this won't be a story about them as much as my previous stories have been.
I hope you enjoyed! Until next time!
-D9T