A/N: So, for a very long time, I've gotten requests for a sequel to I Am Strong (one of my other fics), and it's kind of hard to write a sequel for that! It's pretty wrapped up at the end, you know? There is no story after it. If you haven't read it, I recommend it. It's not the worst. :) So, anyway, I started thinking about other ideas, and that's where Playing With Fire came in.

I am participating in August Camp NaNoWriMo and going on vacation at the end of the month, so I'm pretty busy. I won't be writing for this until I reach my target word count of the day! Nonetheless, I'm going to be pretty good about updating this one. I'm notoriously good (I updated every day for IAS!) except for that one time I left one fic hanging at its second last chapter for a year. Whoops. Sorry. Anyway, thanks for reading, guys! Hope you enjoy.

My friends are coming over today. The press like to call us the Silver Age, and for good reason, I guess. My mother runs around the house, preparing for her guests—their parents, all people once upon a time involved with the Games at some point or another—and ignoring my father's offers of help. I look at Father and we both laugh. He gives up, eventually, sitting beside me and watching TV.

The first of my friends is the one and only participant in the Games among us. I remember Finn's Games very clearly, not just because Finn—one of my best friends—was in them, but also because the hype around it was intense. How could it not be, with the son of not one but two victors in the arena? Still, Finn is anything but a warrior. He has none of my mother's ferocity, he is not as sociable and charming as his father, and, well, it's not like my father and his mother won for a reason other than luck. He believes he won for the same reasons as my father and Annie.

Finnick and Annie are two of my parents' closest friends. Finnick was in the arena with them during the Quell. Their wedding, held in District Four, featured a cake decorated by the one and only Peeta Mellark, of course. Although I wasn't born yet, I've seen the pictures. It was a very beautiful wedding. Their son, Finn, is practically a cousin of mine.

"Paparazzi here already," Finn notes, as we sit outside my house on the porch. They stroll the Victor's Village, trying to be inconspicuous.

"They're never late."

Finn smiles and looks at me. "Are you nervous, Tara?"

"Nervous for what?" I ask.

He lets out a little scoff, still smiling. He looks back toward the road as we await the other two who complete our quartet. "Reaping."

I don't respond.

"It's okay to be nervous. It's Rysnna's last year, and she's terrified beyond belief."

I look up at Finn. Rysnna—who is Johanna Mason's adopted daughter—did not mention this to me, but it's no surprise. "Of course she is. She's nervous because it's her last year. Think of all those slips with your name on it. And Seven's almost as small as Twelve. The number of names is way smaller than in a district like yours."

In an undertone, Finn murmurs, "As if the Capitol would let any child of a victor die in the arena."

Again, I can't find anything to say to this. I know this is why Finn believes he won: he thinks he won only from luck, as well as viewer and sponsor support. He might be right.

Johanna, like my mother, probably never would have had children if the Capitol did not ask for it. Rysnna was forced into Johanna's arms by the Capitol, after Johanna found her in her biological parents' cabin. Both of them had been dead from suicide, and Rysnna had been crying, which is how Johanna found her. The Capitol loved the story and wanted hard-heart Johanna Mason to become a mother. Forced her. Although she has learnt to love Rysnna—through many years of indifference—I know it's still hard on her to be a mom. I'm happy that after this year, she will no longer have to worry for Rysnna's participating in the Games, unlike my mother and father. I still have one more year, followed by three more children, two of which are not even eligible for the reaping yet.

"That's Effie's car," I mutter, as it comes up to our driveway.

Effie Trinket-Domitilla exits her car in typical Capitol fashion. She loves the camera as much as it loves her. Her son, Felix, comes out the other way so quickly the cameras don't have time to catch him.

"Rysnna not here yet?" he asks, hopping onto the porch.

"No," I reply, giving him a hug. "How was the train?"

Felix rolls his eyes. "Mom wouldn't stop talking the entire time."

"Sounds right." Effie was a big part of my parents' life at one point, and her family entered my life not too long after Finn's did.

"I think Rysnna was on the same train as me, actually," Felix says, "but she might have gotten caught up at the station. We left in a hurry. You know Mom. She's always on time."

Felix, although eighteen, is exempt from the reaping due to his Capitol residency. Even though he dresses a bit differently, I think he's pretty similar to the rest of us... just not as sympathetic to how difficult it is to live in the districts. He understands the issues, though. To an extent. Certainly more than every other child who grew up in the Capitol.

Rysnna arrives only a minute or two later, revealing that she was, in fact, held up at the station. We exit through the back door while Mother has the press occupied. This way, we can escape them for a longer period of time. When we are together on special occasions—like before the reaping—they never leave us alone. That is partly why it was a terrible, terrible time during Finn's Games, for more than one reason. Not only did we have to worry about his survival, we were constantly on camera as we worried.

"Finn tells me you're nervous."

Rysnna looks up anxiously at Finn and then at me. "Aren't you?"

"Not Tara," says Felix dryly. "She's a born warrior."

We settle down in the Meadow, lying down with our heads together, making a sort of cross with our bodies. The flowers conceal us, hopefully.

"Not born," I correct. "Made."

My friends, of course, know that I am "trained". Finn and Rysnna had no need to be. Like Finnick and Johanna, they knew how to wield a trident and an axe, respectively. Even petite, gentle Rysnna could potentially be a killer. I've seen her swing it, and frankly, if she ever decides to kill, I'm glad I'm considered her friend.

"You know what's scary?" whispers Rysnna. "What if I had gotten drawn with you, Finn? What if I do get drawn with you, Tara? Or your brother?"

"You won't," I say, but who am I to? The folks in the Capitol would love that. All four of us know that they're capable of making it happen if they want it to. "At least you'll be out of the running for the Quarter Quell. I'll be there, and so will both of my brothers. Think of how terrible that would be. What if the twist is 'children of victors'? It'd just be me and my siblings in the running for our district."

"Don't talk like that!" says Felix sharply. "They'd never do that. Ruth is going to be nine next year."

This is one of those times when Felix shows just how much he is a resident of the Capitol. "They drew past victors once upon a time," Finn reminds him, in his calm, quiet voice. "I doubt it's impossible they'll draw the children of victors."

"And if that ever happens, Ruth wouldn't be in the Games. I would volunteer for her," I say. "If I can be in her place, I will be in her place."

Rysnna rolls onto her stomach and looks at me. "You're so brave, Tara."

I tilt my head to look at her and give her a rueful smile. "No... no, Rysnna, I just do what I have to."

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