Greetings again, all. This is very unusual for me, but I have just posted two chapters within 6 hours of each other. So, because I know I would get confused, if you haven't read District Six yet, pause, go back and read that one. Or read this Chapter first if you really want to since it doesn't directly build on anything mentioned in District Six yet.

Thank you Khloe Grace and Elim9 for Bailey and Jonas respectively.

And finally, completing two chapters in one day, surprisingly, does not magically transform me into Suzanne Collins, so I still don't own the Hunger Games and I'm not Shakespeare, so I can claim no authorship to any of the end quotes.

Quality and Kind, Fool and Calculate District Seven

Mentor: Aeden Sanderling: Victor of the 7th Annual Hunger Games at age 15 (now 26)

Escort: Euripides Algrehn

"Calli!" Aeden heard his own scream before he become conscious of where he was. The ship was still churning on the ocean. Her red hair was blowing in the wind only feet away from him. Was that her laughter ringing out in the air and mixing with the giggling of the wind? An inch closer and he could reach out and grab her. Maybe this time he had a chance to save his best friend.

No. Aeden's breathing slowed as his senses told him where he was. From the colors of his nightmare, the dismal real world came into focus. The darkness of his sanctuary engulfed him, the bed which was supposed to provide all the comforts of a Capitol induced nightly coma provided none of the solace he yearned; it never had. For ten years the nightmares still plagued him. The only difference was he'd stopped telling anyone about them. It was better to endure them alone.

He knew the hour must nearly be upon them. Every year for the past ten years his body resisted this day, sleeping in until the last possible moment, praying that some miracle would wake him on this day eleven years past and somehow write a different fate. The late morning sun peering through his windows in the Victor's village insisted that this was not to be.

Aeden dragged himself out of bed, already dressed for the day. He swished his dark hair to one side, not even bothering to look in the mirror. For now he was District Seven's sole victor and the public would have to take what they could get. His true efforts were reserved for his tributes

As always, Euripides met him outside his house door.

"I almost thought you weren't coming this year. I wouldn't have blamed you. After coming so painfully close last year with . . . what was her name . . ."

"Please stop," Aeden cut Euripides off. The look on the escort's face betrayed his shock at Aeden's unusually abrupt assertion, but Aeden didn't care. He could face the tributes today, but anything more would be too much to bear. It was bad enough that he returned to the past in his dreams years after the tides of fate had moved on, but to have a living breathing being intentionally force him into the salty sea as his wounds opened was more than he could bear.

"This year," Euripides assured with the flashy grin he usually saved for the audience. Aeden could only hope he was right. Euripides was impossible to read: hopeful, yet detached from the atrocities that happened in the arena. It was that natural balance that had kept Euripides at it for the past six years, even had him dreaming ambitiously of making connections within the Games. Aeden couldn't help but envy that stability as he took a deep breath and followed the blonde haired model to the stage.

"Welcome to this year's annual hunger games. I have a feeling that this will be our lucky year. It is, after all, my seventh year as an escort, and we are in district seven, so welcome to the seventeenth annual hunger games," Euripides erroneously announced. Aeden didn't care enough about numbers to correct him; calling it the seventeenth annual Hunger Games didn't erase the twenty dead tributes that Aeden had mentored. "We have a delightfully spectacular message for you all today, brought directly from the Capitol, the most wonderful place in the world where two of you will have the honor of going shortly." Aeden braced himself. No matter how many times he heard its drone, the Capitol anthem still sent shocks through his body as he remembered the lonely nights it had resounded out over the waters of his arena, the nights the ship had moaned along with the melody.

As he tried not to listen, Aeden caught sight of something fluttering in the sky. He focused all of his energy on that to keep from reacting, to keep from looking as raw as he felt. The bird was still far off in the distance, but he was hoping that his bird-watching hobby, one of the few things that kept him sane, would be in his favor. Against the grey sky it was hard to see, but the bird seemed white. A dove perhaps? No, the flight pattern was wrong. It came closer just as the last strains of the anthem sounded and with the last note the bird's voice resounded to in a familiar tone. Aeden knew beyond a doubt that it was a seagull. He would leave the question of what it was doing here for later. Now his tributes would need him.

"For the young ladies, Bailey Therms," Euripides announced.

Aeden felt as though he was drowning in the ensuing hush as the twelve year old section parted for a face that looked exactly as he'd imagined it, a younger combination of Sterling and Rana, two two of the twenty he had walked beside from this stage who hadn't made a return journey. The child's dark hair whipped about in the wind was she silently walked towards the stage, completely hiding her downcast face. Even as she walked, Aeden hoped for a miracle, that one of the older children would come forward to take her place. When she took her place beside him, he knew it was not to be; District Seven was not the place of kind fates or miracles.

By the time she reached his side, she was in control of her emotions. That was either an admirable feat for a twelve year old, or a terrifying one; Aeden wasn't sure which it was in Bailey's case. Unexpectedly, she looked up at him with those same eyes that Sterling had, the same serious look that Rana had possessed, and he instinctively put his hand on her shoulder, just as he had with both of her parents. Her youth and vulnerability stung like an open wound, enhanced by her light blue flowery dress that glowed with innocence. The seagull called out again from somewhere up above.

"For the boys, Lycus Ramoa," the fifteen year old section barely had time to part before "I volunteer," rang out. Aeden cringed at the tone; the voice possessed an undeniably pompous quality. Why was fate so terribly unkind?

Euripides's eyebrows shot up in surprise and excitement as a dark haired average height boy strutted forward from the seventeen year old section, looking smug as could be. He was a stark contrast to Bailey, who had by now grabbed onto Aeden's hand. The boy couldn't help but smirk as he passed his new, younger, district partner on the stage.

"What's your name, son?" Euripides asked, acting strangely paternally with the boy who was no more than ten years younger than himself.

"I'm Jonas Tanner. Would you like me to tell you how I'm going to win the eighteenth annual hunger games?" The way he said it made it clear that Jonas had noted and was correcting Euripides's former error.

"You may be, you may be," Euripides smiled, clearly having picked his favorite tribute. "Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for the eighteenth annual hunger games! Jonas and Bailey." Jonas turned to Bailey and smiled, not a vengeful smile, but not a welcoming one either. It was abundantly clear that Jonas thought he knew what he was doing. Hesitantly, Bailey smiled and took his hand, but it seemed as though part of her thought he was already plotting her death. After all, thought Aeden in frustration, he was the self-proclaimed victor of the 18th annual hunger games.

The Peacekeepers came to walk Bailey away. She was trembling as they tried to make her let go of Aeden's hand, her brown eyes finally growing wide in fear as she didn't know what was happening.

"They're taking you to say goodbye," Aeden assured her as her fingers released his. "We'll be on the train soon and we'll go from there." As she was ushered off, Aeden resolved, this would be the year that one of them returned; fate simply could not be that heartless, to either of them.

Bailey Therms: Age 12

She had to keep control for them. Bailey looked into her Aunt Abi's eyes, the woman who had cared for her since her father had been sent to the games. Bailey still had horrible moments when she thought her Aunt was the only family that she'd ever had. She'd been so young when her father had died and she'd never even known her mother, not really. It wasn't all that surprising then, that she was so close with her aunt.

Despite that closeness, she could never share pain, not really. She had cried when she would have dreams about her father and awake only to realize he wasn't there. Then her aunt would hold her, but Bailey struggled to articulate the deep hurt that the Games had already caused her.

And how could she now. She'd never been able to open that wound before, what could she say in three minutes that could make anything better.

"How are you feeling?" her best friend, Annette asked her. The two of them had come together, as they should. Bailey was Annette's confident, so it only made sense that she would be there for Bailey alongside her guardian.

"I'll be okay," Bailey forced herself to say. And she had to be. She had to keep a lid on her emotions.

Against her will, a single tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Annette said it so that Bailey wouldn't have to. Bailey threw her arms around her only remaining family, both of them. She could just barely stretch her arms around both of their necks.

"Listen to your mentor," Bailey's aunt advised. "He's been through the games and he came out alive."

'He got both of my parents killed,' Bailey thought, but she didn't say it. She would never say it. She simply repeated the refrain she'd told herself over and over again, that her parents' deaths were awful, but no one's fault. There was no one to be mad at and the time for being sad was done.

"Do you have any other advice?" Bailey asked hopefully. It seemed as though her aunt always had the right words.

"You know yourself, little one. Have faith. You have your own strengths."

"Maybe find some good allies," Annette offered, wanting to be helpful. "You're so sweet someone's going to want to help you." She stifled back a sob, but couldn't stop the tears running down her cheeks. A knock rapped anxiously on the door. Aunt Abi stood both girls up and huddled them, as though in this familial embrace they could withstand the inevitable.

The rap that the door, however, wasn't the Peacekeepers. In came a woman in her late thirties, slender and very worn.

"Who are you?" Aunt Abi demanded.

"I'll just stay a second," the woman explained. "I was a friend of Bailey's mother's and, I know it won't do any good, but I brought this." She extended her hands with a package, hastily wrapped in brown paper. Bailey opened it quizzically and nearly dropped it to the floor when she saw it: an old rag doll missing both of its eyes. "Name it before it's too late," the woman said, dashing from the room as promised.

Bailey could barely believe it.

"Is this . . ." she couldn't bring herself to finish the question, but Aunt Abi answered it anyway.

"Yes, child. It's the same doll your father brought with him to the Games. It's a family heirloom, I suppose. Care for it well, and for yourself. May it bring you better fortune than it did him."

"But how . . ." Bailey began, but was cut off by the door again. This time it was the Peacekeepers again, and they showed the family out, leaving Bailey alone.

She had one last task as she sat alone, awaiting what came, one final thing to care for. A name . . . she looked intently at the blind doll and pondered how it had come to her and what name might fit it. She would have to ponder a while longer.

Jonas Tanner 17

"Young Jonas, I would like you to rest assured you have the full and unwavering support of the District. You will bring great pride and distinction to District Seven, allowing us to take our rightful place among the other districts as one of the chief contenders in the Annual Hunger Games."

"I guarantee you, Mr. Mayor, I will be District Seven's second victor." It pleased Jonas to no end that the Mayor had been his first visitor. As any figure-head politician, he said the same things in different ways, hoping no one would notice, but Jonas didn't care. The tides of fate were in his favor and within weeks he would live up to his claim.

"I wish to further extend my offer to bring anything District Seven has to offer, anything you would want for your district token, simply name it and it will be bestowed upon you before you take your leave."

"Mr. Mayor, I truly appreciate your generosity, but I have no need for trinkets. These Games are won through motivation, strategizing, and taking the proper steps, not through good luck charms or superstitions."

The mayor laughed, straightened up and smiled, his plump frame jiggling a bit.

"You and your father have always been practical men. That will make you exceptional in the end. If there is nothing further you need, Jonas, then we will see you soon. We will cheer so vociferously we'll deafen the Capitol from all the way out here." Jonas smiled appreciatively and then was caught off guard as the mayor nearly squashed him with all of his weight in a captivating embrace. He wasn't sorry when the mayor released him and he could once again breath.

His parents filed in next. Jonas had hoped that they would bring the entire family at once, but his mother had clearly gotten her way.

"I gave your brothers a moment to contain themselves," she told Jonas, locking eyes with him. "Is there anything you need?"

"No, mom. I'm ready. You really don't need to say goodbye. You've heard me watching the Games since before I can remember. I could have won if I'd been in any of those other years. If I was the mentor from Seven we'd have won every year and you can depend on my victory this year."

"That's right, son," Jonas's father chimed in and the young man smiled at him. He probably had his father to thank for the visit from the mayor; finally all of his years of serving as a personal assistant had served for more than a comfortable job.

"You will listen to your mentor, though, won't you?" his mother's voice was getting that tone it did when she thought Jonas wasn't listening.

"I will take Aeden 's advice into consideration," Jonas said choosing his words politically, lest his mother dash out of the room in frustration as she was prone to doing.

"And be nice to Bailey," she implored him.

"Mother, affiliating myself with a fusty nut with no kernel would be of minimal advantage to me."

"Don't use those big words on your mother. We don't have much time left," his father reprimanded him.

"Very well. I will deliberate on how I can collaborate to my advantage." His father sighed, but Jonas knew his mother understood what that meant. He would make her happy and allow her to think he'd consider having a twelve year old as a partner if it wasn't a hindrance.

There was a knock at the door.

"We love you, son," his parents said, almost in unison as they embraced him and released him just as quickly. They weren't a household that expressed affection physically, which was why the Mayor's hug had thrown him so off guard.

To Jonas's surprise, three boys game together next.

"The Peacekeeper said that we had to come in together. They were already getting the train ready," Cliff, Jonas's best friend, reported as he and Jonas's middle brother, Lawson high fived the Tribute.

"I suppose the three of you will be the last to see me for several weeks, then," Jonas said, leaning back in his chair and savoring the moment.

"If you manage to come back," Jonas heard his twelve year old brother's voice. Weston had clearly meant to say that under his breath, so Jonas let it go, simply rolling his eyes.

"I had a moment when I didn't think you were going to do it," Cliff admitted.

"Then you had a moment where you were relieved of your wits. I never turn down a challenge," Jonas reiterated his mantra from the days since Cliff had, in a moment of frustration, dared him to volunteer for the Hunger Games. "Anyone can win the Hunger Games with sufficient mental and physical training and discipline. Everyone who has ever lost has had a fatal flaw that was their downfall."

"It's going to be unbearable listening to you say that every day for your life as a Victor," Lawson moaned.

"Then I suggest you use the next weeks to prepare your ears for that very song, because it is imminent, my friends. Prepare for my magnificent return and to have your words served to you upon a silver platter." Jonas smiled broadly and made a grandiose flourishing gesture with his right hand. His friends knew that was his exit, he would want them to leave with that flair, not at the cue of some Peacekeeper, so they made their way to the door, with little Weston leading the way.

Aeden Sanderling – District Seven Mentor

One last breath of true fresh air was all Aeden wanted as the train whistled. He still hadn't boarded, his feet firmly planted on the soil of District Seven for one more moment. Procrastination was his momentary salvation.

"Cree!" The scream of the seagull sent a shiver down his spine. It was loud and close, but Aeden couldn't see it.

Whoosh. A huge gust of wind rushed past and it felt as though he could have taken flight. But it wasn't a gust of wind; it was the powerful gull flying just inches above his head, its abnormally strong wings beating the air about it. As swiftly as it had appeared, it perched on one of the trees not far from the tracks, a familiar willow tree. Aeden eyed the gull, unsure if this was something from a nightmare, the shape of things to come, or simply a monstrous trick of nature that didn't concern him.

The train whistled again and began to crawl away. Aeden stood, torn.

"Cree!" The gull insisted and a breeze danced with the willow branches. As though propelled by the zephyr against his will, Aeden found himself hoisting his body onto the departing train and disappearing into his quarters as though he had been there as he was supposed to have been the entire time. The nightmare resumed.

"But if you would consider the true cause

. . . .

Why birds and beasts from quality and kind,

Why old men fool and children calculate,

Why all these things change from their ordinance

Their natures and preformèd faculties

To monstrous quality—why, you shall find

That heaven hath infused them with these spirits

To make them instruments of fear and warning

Unto some monstrous state." – Julius Caesar Act 1 Scene 3