Hello!
I'm Thalassa, I've been reading fanfics on FFN for some time now but this is my very first fanfic. Hope you all like it! Also, because of the word limit for the summeay, I had to shorten my original summary but I will post it here down below
The 2nd Rebellion failed. 13 was annihilated. 12 was rebuilt. 17-year-old Valeria Chark got reaped for the 100th Annual Hunger Games. She has been prepared to hate everything about the Capitol, that is until she meets the charming Captiolite Trad Rose. On the verge of discovering a decades-old secret, finding out that some people aren't who they say they are and playing in the Games, Val's life is turned upside-down. Some things are just best kept secret.
CHAPTER 1 - The Reaping
On the day of the reaping, I woke up as the sun did.
I gently slipped out of bed, careful not to wake my sister Kit. Today was her first reaping, she ought to get as much sleep as possible. I quickly changed into the shirt and trousers that I usually wear in the mornings and snuck out the window. Outside, the town was quiet and dark. Not a single animal made a sound, for even they were afraid to alert the Peacekeepers that marched through the streets. I tiptoed down the road that led to the electric fences, careful not to make a single sound, if the Peacekeepers saw me, they would shoot me on sight. As I was 17 this year, there would be 18 slips of paper with the name "Valeria Chark" in the reaping bowl, 6 for my 17 years of age and 18 for the 3 tesserae I applied for every year to keep the family afloat.
Just two more reapings, I thought to myself, just two more reapings and I'll never have to worry about my name being called ever again.
Unfortunately, having to go through just 2 more reapings didn't mean I was already safe. I still must train for the Games, no not train, prepare. Every day since my very first reaping, I have been preparing for the Games. But don't get me wrong, I have no intention of ever volunteering. As they say here in 12, "better alive and poor than dead and poor" (but then there's always some naïve fool remarking "if you win, you won't be poor", but 12 only has 1 victor in the 25 years after the 2nd rebellion, and that was mainly because the arena design was in our favor). Thus, every morning since I was 12, I have been sneaking into the woods to prepare. Although it has been 25 years since the end of the 2nd rebellion, security is still as tight as it was quarter of a century ago. However, there are many gaps in the system that can be used in my favor.
Keeping my ears and eyes open, I made my way to the fence. For as long as I can remember, the fence has been buzzing with electricity, keeping the animals in the woods out, and the citizens of 12 in. But I know a kink in the chain. Behind a patch of bushes lies a small tunnel barely big enough for me to weasel through, it's marked by a makeshift sign that looks fifty-odd years old. When I was younger, it was easier to get through the tunnel, when I got my growth spurt, I had to start expanding it a bit. I quickly slid through the tunnel and ran into the shelter of the trees. From the town, the woods looked dreary and even a bit ominous, yet from the inside it was the exact opposite. The morning sun casts soft rays of sunlight through the trees, illuminating the wildlife that ran free here. The creek that leads to the lake shines like a flowing chain of diamonds, the lake is like a huge bathtub perfect for a swim in summer, and the plants and herbs are all vital ingredients in the poultice and medicines that I make for my makeshift (and illegal) pharmacy, these are all what makes the woods a forbidden sanctuary. In here, even President Snow herself couldn't harm me.
Itching to get started, I jogged to the clearing where I stored my training equipment. I took my hidden knives out from the tree hallow of the giant oak, and picked up the dummy from where it was camouflaged amongst the bushes. Time for some warm-ups. I placed my dummy around 5 meters away and threw my knife, it hit right in the middle of the head. I moved the dummy 10 meters away: once again, right on mark. And finally, 20 meters, I took a deep breath and threw-half a centimeter off. Warmups concluded, I moved the dummy a bit closer to me and took out a piece of rag from my pocket and tied it around my head, now blindfolded, I threw my knife again. Bullseye. I reset the dummy to 10 meters away from me, bullseye. 15 meters, bullseye. Practicing throwing my knives blindfolded wouldn't help me much in the arena, but if I got reaped at least it might get me a high training score. With my preparation finished, I put everything away and jogged around the town before heading back home.
When I got back home, everyone was still sleeping. I checked the old clock on the wall, it was 6:30, usually Mother and Father would be awake by now, but today was the Reaping, everyone would be sleeping in. I longed to jump back into bed and rest my sore muscles, but someone had to get the family ready for the Reaping. Forcing my muscles to move, I prepared breakfast for the family, set the table and cut some toast. I then quietly snuck into the room where my sister and two brothers were still sleeping in, took out their Reaping Day outfits and laid them on the beds. After all this, I took out our small bathtub, filled it up with water and bathed, wishing that instead of the lukewarm the water in tub was icy cold. After my bath, I changed into a faded green sundress, I reserved this dress for special occasions, like that time Mayor Firlin's daughter got married and the entire district got invited to the toasting. I also took out the necklace I've had since birth, a rusted copper locket with my initials V.C on them, I put it on and tucked it under my neckline. I brushed my long blonde hair and took a small batch of hair above my left ear and braided it, it was my signature reaping hairstyle. I looked in the mirror, the girl staring back had high cheekbones and fair skin. Her pale gold hair fell down her shoulders, not a wisp out of place. Her melancholic gray eyes were like clouds of smoke, she looked far older than she actually was.
"Val?", a babyish voice spoke. I jerked out of my thoughts; my youngest brother Manx was crying. "Val, I'm scared."
"Why are you scared Manx?" I squatted down beside him and whipped his tears with my hand.
"What if you or Leo or Kit get reaped and then you have to play in the Games and then you die?" He whimpered. My heart ached, Manx was barely a child, yet every year he was forced to watch tributes mercilessly kill each other.
"Manx, I promise you that I won't get reaped, ok? Leo and Kit won't get reaped either." I said in the most soothing tone I could muster without breaking apart.
"Ok."
"Now, why don't you go get changed for the Reaping?" Manx nodded and walked back to his room.
Ten minutes later, everyone else was up and dressed in their best clothing, today was the Reaping, and everybody was required to attend, regardless of age.
The scorching July sun shone on our backs, there wasn't even the slightest breeze. This summer was by far the hottest we've had in ages. Everyone in the square was squinting, hands lifted to shield their face from the sun. In the middle of the square, rows and rows of teenagers stood, the youngest stood at the front and the oldest at the back, around them were anxious families, praying that their child or sibling or grandchild wouldn't be on those two slips of paper drawn today.
"Greetings District 12!" A cheery voice called out from the stage in front of the Justice Building, it was Nativa Solskinn, escort of 12 for 15 years now. She was wearing a golden trumpet dress, her giant afro was also golden and let loose, both the hair and the dress shined in the sunlight, and made her look like a giant walking gemstone, which I suppose was the look she was going for. "Happy 100th Hunger Games! This is a very very special occasion; it has been 100 years since our lovely Capital defeated the rebels and first established the Hunger Games, it has also been 25 years since the Capital defeated a second rebellion that threatened the peace and harmony of our nation. And, as I'm sure some of you have noticed, this year's Hunger Games will be the 4th Quarter Quell! So, I'm sure you all are awfully excited to hear what it's going to be, so why don't we give it up for our very own President Clodia Snow live from the Capitol!"
As I forced myself to applaud my president, I tried to look as excited as possible, any pulled faces or half-hearted applause would earn a public flogging from the Peacekeepers. President Snow's face appeared on the screen in front of the Victory Building, wearing a smile and a white rose tucked in behind her ear.
"Hello, districts", she started off softly, "Happy Hunger Games. This year we will honor our fourth quarter quell and 100th anniversary. As a reminder to the districts that they are nothing without the Capital, this year's Hunger Games will have no Cornucopia or sponsors. Let us see what happens when the districts are left on their own. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever."
The screen went black, the world went silent. And then it burst into sound. Everyone was speaking all at once.
"No Cornucopia?!" "This might be the bloodiest Hunger Games so far." "Will there be weapons?"
"Quiet down please, quiet down!" Nativa shrilled, "I understand this is all very exciting, but we have to get on with the Reaping!". The Peacekeepers cocked their guns, everyone immediately fell silent. "Wonderful," Nativa continued, "well now it's time to draw the names! Ladies first, mhm?"
She walked over to the reaping bowl, stuck her hand in, swirled it around, and picked up a piece of paper. She smiled warmly.
"VALERIA CHARK!"
VALERIA CHARK!
At first my brain didn't comprehend what she said. Everything slowed, the world became muted. All I could see was the shining sun, all I could hear was the sound of my breath and Nativa's voice exclaiming "VALERIA CHARK!" over and over again.
"Valeria Chark? Would you please come to the stage?" A voice pulled me out of my distorted world. It took me a second to realize it was Nativa calling me. Snap out of it Val, be confident, I told myself. Taking a deep breath, I started walking to the stage, my head raised high, my hands curled into fists so they could stop shaking.
"Val! Val! You promised! You promised you wouldn't get reaped!" I heard Manx yell from the sidelines. My breath hitched as I remembered my promise. I promise you that I won't get reaped. For a moment, I was in danger of breaking apart, but then I remembered where I was. Head up, fists curled, deep breath. Steady Val, steady.
Nativa beamed at me as I took my place on her left. She bounced over to the male tribute bowl and picked a name.
"PEBBLE CRACKTON!"
Pebble, the 14-year-old son of the local butcher started to make his way to the stage when someone in the back raised their hand and shouted out: "I volunteer as tribute."
The crowd began to murmur, no one had ever volunteered before (apart from that girl who started the 2nd Rebellion, and everyone knew what happened to her). Pebble, looking relieved, quickly walked back to his spot without hesitation. The boy who volunteered walked onto the stage, he had the typical Seam look, olive skin and dark hair and eyes. His muscles bulged beneath his shirt, and an arrogant smile was plastered on his face.
"A volunteer!" Nativa was in ecstasy, "come, come. Now, mysterious volunteer, what's your name?"
"Craig Egorant."
"Ladies and Gentlemen! How about a round of applause for our two tributes Valeria Chark and Craig Egorant?!"
Hope you all liked it!
-Thalassa