People's guesses on blood baths are intriguing.

Regularly wrong, but still intriguing.

Since I don't change the amount of effort I put into a blood bath or non blood bath I find it particularly entertaining. Maybe I have writing mood swings I don't notice?

I didn't take it negatively, as I said I took it as a challenge and so I did, beating up one of the tributes at their goodbyes. These might be reverting slightly to the good old 'no, don't go!' goodbyes but only slightly. There's still some fun to be had with different bad goodbyes.

I changed Matt's brother's name to Mick because we had a brother named Nick last chapter.

If you don't get the two Games in a year reference, see my old story which I moved for the purposes of mentoring and writing a different multi chapter.

District 10: Matthew "Matt" Hanson

I'm up before the rest of my family, probably my District, on Reaping Day morning.

I don't really mind, the crisp morning breeze and getting to spend some time with the animals and my thoughts before the Reapings. Our farm isn't exactly the largest, it's on the fringe of District 10 and surrounded by a dense forest leading towards District 9. We have a few horses, chickens and a herd of cattle and sheep and for District 10 that's pretty small.

District 10 is one of the Districts with the lowest population because of the huge amount of space required for farming but not as small as you might think because we breed like rabbits.

Our family is tiny with only two kids, my brother Mick and I but he's more than enough to cover for all of the kids my parents didn't have. He shouts at them when they don't let him go out at night, he breaks locks, he let the sheep loose one night when he didn't get to go to a friend's house before running out in the ensuing chaos. I didn't mind finding all the sheep and calming them, they always hid in the same few areas away from the forest or just trotted around uncertainly, it was the fact that he was so appalling towards our parents that got to me.

I couldn't stand it when people were cruel for absolutely no reason. Bullying, hurting, talking back, even the minor things set me off. I was sort of famous in District 10 for being the defender of anyone worth defending.

That made the Hunger Games pretty much the bane of my existence. Everyone knows that killing is horrible and that the Games are cruel and unusual punishment for a crime committed by another generation but being 'blessed' as I am with a higher than average IQ, there's so much more to it than that. The strings being pulled by the Capitol to maintain a tyrannical regime, controlling through the fear instilled in every person in Panem. The revolutionaries believed that if we fought back that we could win and take power from the Capitol but that was the power of the Games, just like in the arena they could kill us randomly, at any moment with no warning or anything like a goodbye. Dying of old age in your bed was a privilege no citizen of Panem was going to receive. Everything was controlled by someone up in a tower in the distance, tapping out your life on a 'computer' at a shiny desk in the Capitol. If you tried to rebel, it wasn't as simple as pain to yourself. Every rebel was willing to die for their cause, to suffer through any pain for a new future for Panem, but that wasn't what happened. Instead you suddenly found your child ripped away from you, forced to become either a monster or another garden ornament in the local cemetery. There was no escaping, no helping them, only the cold, bleak present and watching their each and every moment on the path to doom of one kind or another.

I wanted to try and end everything that was bad in District 10, all the bullying and the fighting but that was an impossible task and the Games even more so. If I were to be Reaped into the Games I wouldn't be able to convince myself to kill for the Capitol. I'd be that guy who looked the part; slightly crooked nose, dark hair and eyes but who in the end got killed by showing mercy to some Career with a knife to his throat.

It was a grim reality and one which I didn't want to face.

Some would say I have a hope. One year we had a huge number of wild dogs coming onto the farms and attacking our herds and while the Capitol didn't give a damn about a few animals being picked off every year, losing whole herds to the dogs was too much. Their solution involved no work whatsoever on their part; they just gave kids some short bows and told one of District 10's mentors, a shaggy haired 30 something named Adrian Csirke who'd developed a good bow arm in training before the Games. Everyone was given rudimentary training and sent off but Adrian thought I had talent and taught me some more skills but I hated killing and violence so profusely that eventually he gave up and we stopped.

Now today I have to face another Reaping and ask myself once again if I could kill or if I would rather die for the Games.

District 10: Scarlett Lavington

When I wake up it doesn't really occur to me that today is different to any other day. I still have to get up at 5.30 to feed the animals around our farm and clean out the crap in the pig pens.

I love Onyx and Brynn but some days I wish they were old enough to help out with the filthy chores. Despite having a farm that's almost too big for us to handle, I still only have two sets of clothes and having to wash them every day after mucking out the cows in the morning seems like a total waste.

At the very least, if nothing else matters I'm happy that I'm the only one going to the Reapings. I could force myself to kill, to come home from the Games but I couldn't let Brynn do Onyx do the same. On the other hand, Onyx has his first Reaping next year and as a boy I can't do anything about it and I only have one year to look after Brynn in the Reapings and then I just have to watch.

Just watch when my world could be torn apart by two words. Just a single name out of the lips of a disgusting Capitol escort.

Like Terme's name was just another name. It was only last year, Terme was 15 years old and a school friend of mine and he died in the blood bath. I just had to watch him torn apart by a District 1 boy then thrown off the end of the spear like a bit of filth.

If anything was filth it was the boy and if not him then the Capitol itself.

My hatred at the Capitol and their stupid Reapings spurs me through tossing mounds of turd out of the animal pens. I used to cry when they had to be killed, but at the age of eight I taught myself not to care about their deaths and to accept them as a part of life. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't extend that logic to the Games in my head.

Almost, but almost isn't enough.

Finally, when I'm exhausted and tired, I return to the horse's stable to brush them over before going to the Reapings. I doubt any one else in the house is awake yet, they're probably all still sleeping while I'm out knee deep in turd. Still, brushing the horses is relieving when I'm as panicked as I'm working myself up to be. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have the freedom to come out and brush the horses when I'm stressed or sick of people. I can't imagine living in District 8, shut up in towering apartment blocks and crushed in between the warehouses.

Breakfast isn't as sombre of an affair at our house as some others, we have two hyperactive under-12s and Mother makes a special breakfast for me and the rest of us before the Reapings. They're still young enough to have the 'bad stuff won't happen to us' outlook on life.

I hope that it won't be broken this year, or any year, for my sake as much as theirs.

Too bad it's not me pulling the strings.

Matt:

Mick and I leave the house together and he gives me a distinctly unfriendly thump on the shoulder.

"Good luck Matt. Not that you'll return the favour anyway, you and your parents will be happier without me," Mick smirks cruelly. We might be identical twins but you'd be hard pushed to tell. Mick's face is permanently in a ghost of his smirk, his eyebrows slant down and his hair is longer, shaggier and badly groomed. I'm the family's golden boy, clean, short haired and reserved but sometimes I wish I weren't so that Mick would stop it with the attention-grabbing. It hurts everyone but most of all himself.

I guess the fact that I'm feeling slightly upset shows because Mick punches me again, not even faking friendliness, and growls, "Wimp," before sprinting off.

Mick is so insensitive to everyone around him that it annoys me.

In fact I'm so distracted that I walk down an alleyway short cut without realising it's occupied. "Gimme your money, bitch!" a deep voice snarls from the shadows.

"Piss off," a voice replies.

I have enough brain still functioning to step into the light and push between the two of them. I've got a bit of a height advantage over him but that's not why he takes a step back and grins awkwardly.

"Hey, I'll just be… er going then, shall I?" he asks, taking a few steps back before running after a slight nod. I'm notorious for dealing with anyone beating other people up, even when I don't have my longbow on me at the moment. A well-placed arrow and the fear factor covers grounds that physical punishment can't, all it takes is a little brain power.

"Thanks for saving me," the girl smiles as she looks uncertainly at me as if wondering whether I need to tell her to go too.

"I guess you're not going to be walking down any dark alleyways any time soon," I'm bad at conversations but I feel that the statement begs for a reply.

"Nah, I never learn," she says as she dashes off towards the square.

I follow. No matter how much I like to play the hero, I hate the dark and being alone. Reasons number one million and one and one million and two why I never want to be in the Hunger Games. I don't have too many friends, the downfalls of being the quiet one, but at least knowing there are people around is what I want. Knowing they don't want to kill me is also a bonus.

Not that I have anyone to talk to as I shuffle into the 17s section. After the 37th Hunger Games ended in an escape attempt, everyone started… breeding to try and get their kids a better life if there was a rebellion. Instead they made two Games in a year and sliced the tribute's tongues out. I still don't know what to think of the victor. Apparently he's famous for being the Capitol's… well, whore but he seems reserved and angry whenever he's on screen with his tributes. Reason one million and three; don't want to end up screwed over (in every meaning of the word) like the victor of the 37.5th Hunger Games.

I listen to every word of the escort's speech, trying to pick out anything interesting about the Capitol, the other Districts, the outside world in general, but it's all the usual "All hail the Capitol" trash that's carefully controlled by the Panem Gamemakers. Normal life might not be a part of the Hunger Games, but it's a game all the same and one where the Capitol holds all the cards.

"Scarlett Lavington," the escort calls out, a piece of paper held in her hand. Sometimes I wonder if there's even a name on the paper or if the escort is told a name beforehand from some special selection process and that the Reapings are merely a farce.

The boy's name questions my belief, "Matthew Hanson," what had I done to annoy the Capitol?

No matter what he thinks, at the very least I'm glad it's not Mick.

Scarlett:

I want to get to the 16s section as fast as possible to meet Hallie before the Reapings. I just have to take a short cut through Chicke Alley to get to the main road to the square.

There's a guy waiting in the alley but I assume he won't hassle me on Reaping Day. Even if he tries I can just push past, he's not going to make me waste my time going around.

"Hey, give me your money," he says, standing up from the wall and leering down at me.

"Hell no," I reply, taking a step back.

"Gimme your money, bitch!" he snarls, pushing towards me.

"Piss off," I reply again, preparing to sprint into the shadows.

A figure pushes in between us and I vaguely recognise the short brown hair and slow but sure gait of Matt Hanson. He's the year above me in school and notorious for being a chronic knight in shining armour.

As he steps between us, the wannabe mugger blanches. Matt's skill with a longbow is also pretty notorious after a wild dog plague a few years back where he helped one of the victors teach an archery class after starting only the year before.

"Hey, I'll just be… er going then, shall I?" the mugger asks before running out of the alleyway.

"Thanks for saving me," I smile, trying not to blush at being rescued by Hallie's current crush, even though they've never talked. Hallie and her girlie side are going to be the death of me one day.

"I guess you're not going to be walking down any dark alleyways any time soon," he jokes, looking slightly awkward in conversation.

"Nah, I never learn," I reply before waving slightly then running to find Hallie and escape the eau de awkward in the alleyway.

"What took you so long?" Hallie frowns as I join her in the queue to sign in.

"Some mugger tried to stop me," I reply nonchalantly and I can see she's about to ask something when I continue, "Guess who rescued me."

"Matt?" she asks giggling as I nod which sets her off even more.

She bites her lip to contain her giggling as we enter the 16s section and whisper through our escort's speech about his current shade of colour-changing contacts which at the moment are flashing between neon-green and violent orange. I'm amazed no one's on the ground in seizures, seriously.

"Scarlett Lavington," the escort calls as the contacts suddenly flash violet purple.

No… not me… what about Onyx and Brynn? They're not old enough to be in the Games but are they going to watch me die in them?

I try to stand my ground as the Peacekeepers come for me. They can't make me go; I'm not going to let them take me to the Games. Never. I plant my feet but they drag me forward and I have to stumble onto the stage after I've been thrown to maintain the dignity of staying upright.

Next up, "Matthew Hanson."

No, not Matt. I already owe him for saving me from the mugging and now I'm going to fight him in the Games. Matt, the guy who's amazing with a longbow, who Hallie has a crush on and who always stands up for what's right. How am I going to fight that?

I could kill for Brynn, Onyx and my parents, but what if the person I have to kill is a better person than I am?

Matt:

Goodbyes aren't a huge deal for me.

I'm that quiet guy who everyone likes but doesn't really have any friends.

That means that goodbyes are mostly a family affair and while I want to be able to comfort my parents, I hate myself for wishing Mick wasn't with them. Separately I could handle him, but together it's a bigger ask with my parents and especially after our… discussion this morning.

"Matt! I'm so sorry; you shouldn't have to go to these Games!" Mother sobs as she holds onto me. Father's with them too for once. He's a drunkard but the lovable kind, the one everyone wants to know because he's a good laugh when he's had a few drinks and 'had a few drinks' is more or less his natural state of being.

"It's okay Mother," I whisper as she hugs me on the couch.

"Hah, I guess I was right. No one cares about anything that happens to me but 'No, Matt, how could you go?'" Mick mocks in a falsetto squeak.

This just starts Mother crying harder as she sits on the couch, sobbing into her arms while I stand and face my brother. We're the same height but he's slightly slimmer from the lack of archery training and he's right handed. He grips his right hand in a fist and I know that if it comes to blows he'll punch with his right hand about mid-chest height.

"Aw is big Matt gonna stand up to me? Not going to say anything though, are you wimp?" he asks mockingly. I don't answer but he barely gives me time as he continues, "Well it's lucky you got Reaped because we don't need a big cry baby around. No one wants big cry baby Matt. I'm glad you got Reaped; I don't even want you as a brother."

Mick turns on his heel and stalks out of the room.

My mother is distraught and I try to comfort her while my mind is on my brother's words. Father just slaps my back, almost missing, and tells me 'You'll be right' before lying over the couch and snoring.

I can't believe he'd come to the goodbyes just to say that to me.

Still, I choke out to my parents, "Look after Mick. He just needs a little more love."

Mother looks shocked, I've always been her favourite and she can't believe I'm telling her to love her other son, especially after what he's said. It's not a matter of what my ego says; it's about doing what's right.

When my family leaves, I sit forward on the couch with my head in my hands and a tear leak out the side of my eye and I wonder if Mick's right.

Am I really just a cry baby?

Scarlett:

Brynn and Onyx come charging into the room, grabbing onto my legs as tears flood down their cheeks. They might be younger, but they've inherited every bit of my stubbornness and force.

"Scarlett, you can't leave us," Onyx whines. Normally he's quiet and a bit shy around anyone and everyone, but as he tugs at my shirt, he's just another scared little kid who wants his big sister back.

"Yeah, we don't want you to go to the Hunger Games. Can't you ask not to? Please, please, please, please, pleeeeeeeeeeeease?" Brynn asks. That's what she does whenever she wants something at home, like an extra piece of bread, being allowed to feed the chickens or going to a friend's house. It breaks my heart to hear her do it now, knowing full well that there's no way I can do what she asks. I would do anything for my family; I wouldn't let anything stop me from getting what I want to, except now I have no control. My life I totally in the hands of the Gamemakers, the train, allies, the arena, the gifts, everything is based on someone else and I can't change it.

I hate that.

Mother and Father collect Brynn, Onyx and I in a group hug, each of our tears mingling with the others' and I know that it's almost certain that it's the last time we'll ever do it.

They have to leave all too quickly to be replaced by Hallie. I know she's my BFF and that we'd share everything with each other but it kills me to see her now with tears running down her cheeks.

"No… Scarlett, I don't want you to go, we have to get boyfriends and… and finish school and double date the twins," she whispers, mixing heartfelt sadness at my Reaping with girl-talk.

It's the last time I'll ever have it with her I realise as I pull her into a hug.

The last time I'll care about something so simple as guys, clothes or double dates. Well maybe the clothes in the Capitol, but I won't be caring about it with my best friend.

I never want to go to the Capitol.

Still, I have no control even as the Peacekeeper shrinks away from my death stare as he ushers Hallie out of the room.

I'm met in the corridor by Matt and his Peacekeeper entourage and his eyes seem slightly red.

I can't believe that someone who seems like an almost ethereal figure; relatively attractive, talented, smart, Hallie's crush and notorious defender of right and wrong, being Reaped into the Games with me.

Seeing the hint of tears around his eyes finally shatters the illusion that District 10 is safe for me as I'm led towards slaughter.

Another random piece of end-of-chapter trivia; I realised that Fairytales (minor spoiler: the theme of the Chariot Rides) is an anagram of Teary Fails. Wanna guess what the Chariot Ride chapter is entitled?

Also, I've drawn up some chariot outfit designs that I'll try and upload ASAP. I'll do 3 at once but I need to finish one of them and which district they're for will be a secret and not immediately obvious.