Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.

Note: Happy New Year!

We've reached the last reaping, which means you've met all the tributes! Time to let me know what you think. There's a poll up on my profile asking which tributes are your favorite. As with most of my polls, this one won't have any effect on the Games themselves; it's mostly to give me an idea of who people are connecting with and who might need a little more fleshing out in order to really shine. This one'll be up until the end of the train rides if you want to wait until some of them have another appearance before voting. Feel free to vote for as many or as few as you like. As usual, feel free to vote for your own tribute, but please don't only vote for your own; if they're the only one you like, I'm doing something very wrong.

Thank you to Howler33 and dyloccupy for Karina and Ophiuchus, respectively.

District Thirteen
If You Want to Be King

Harakuise Swallot, 60
Victor of the 9th Hunger Games

"I can see why you wanted to come here a little early."

Harakuise glanced around as he and Nicodemus made their way through the crowd milling around outside the square. Technically, it wasn't much of a 'square' yet. There was a stage, with stairs leading up one side and a gently sloping ramp beside them. It was surrounded by an open, flat area. There were buildings, but not the feeling of organization, the sense that this was the center of the district in any literal or even metaphorical sense.

A large portion of the district still lived underground, and even seemed to prefer it that way. So he'd ventured down there during their first night, in disguise. It had been fascinating. It had been ages since he'd been able to go anywhere and not be immediately recognized. Respected. Deferred to. Oh, he was instantly recognizable as an outsider, but there had been so many outsiders coming into Thirteen in the past few years.

Of course, 'many' was relative. Even the highest estimates put the non-native population at roughly ten percent. But that was still too high for some, who blamed the recent migrants for drawing too much of the Capitol's attention. There had been violence – recent violence, from the look of it. Nothing too bloody – not yet. Windows smashed, threats made, a few blows exchanged. But nothing that couldn't be controlled.

He wondered what would happen during the Games. When children from Thirteen started dying because the inevitable had finally happened, how would they respond? For that matter, how would they respond to the reaping? Would their tributes come quietly? Would they have the sense not to put up a fight? Or would they hurt their own chances before the Games had even started?

Nicodemus looked up. "Learn anything?"

"Yes."

After realizing that was the whole answer, Nicodemus rolled his eyes. "Learn anything you'd like to share?"

"Probably."

Nicodemus actually chuckled. "Fair enough. Close to the vest until we find out a little more about the tributes. I suppose that makes sense."

Harakuise cocked his head. There was something about Nicodemus' tone – something that took him a moment to place. "Interesting."

"What?"

Harakuise shrugged. "I always assumed you seemed tense during the reapings because … well, because they're reapings. Not exactly a pleasant event in most districts. But Six … Six is especially bad, isn't it – at least for you."

Nicodemus didn't answer. Because it wasn't a question. Reapings weren't the only events that took place onstage in a district square, after all, and it didn't take a genius to work out that Nicodemus would have some painful memories associated with the place. When Nicodemus finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "You're very perceptive, Harakuise, but you don't always know when to keep your nose out of something."

"That's a fair observation. But you did ask."

"You wanted me to."

"You wanted me to want you to ask."

Nicodemus sighed. "Look, what do you want me to say? That being in the square in Six is stressful for me? That it brings back memories I'd rather not relive? You want me to tell you how odd it feels that being here feels better? That we're here for their very first reaping, that two kids are about to find out that they might die soon, and all I feel right now is relieved that I'm not in Six instead? That I can look at that square here and not see–" He stopped himself, thought better of it, and continued anyway. "Do you know they've never taken those wheels down? They're still there, every year."

"Have you asked–"

"Asked who, Harakuise? The Peacekeepers who put them there to begin with? No, I haven't, and I'm not going to, because I know the answer, and I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of knowing how … uncomfortable it makes me. They want them there. They're a reminder."

"Perhaps," Harakuise agreed. "But perhaps they're a reminder that's no longer necessary. Duke and Lana have done well in Six, Nicodemus. Maybe it's not a shining beacon of loyalty yet, but it's better than it was – and it's improving." He laid a hand gently on Nicodemus' shoulder as they reached the ramp that led up to the stage. "Maybe I can pull a few strings."

Nicodemus looked up, surprised. "You'd do that? Why?"

"Why not?"

"That's not an answer."

"Yes it is. It's simply not an answer you like, or the answer you expected. There's a difference."

Nicodemus opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and settled for "Thank you" before pushing his wheelchair up the ramp and onto the stage.

Harakuise followed and took a seat in the chair beside him, fighting the urge to ask why the hell Nicodemus hadn't said something sooner. Instead, he settled for "You're welcome" as he settled into the chair next to Nicodemus.

Slowly, the crowd continued to take their places, filing into their sections in ones and twos, frightened, unsure. The Peacekeepers were doing a good job of making sure everyone got to the right place with minimal fuss, but it was still taking time. It wasn't a habit yet. But it would be eventually. They would learn. It was only a matter of how long that lesson would take, and how painful a lesson it would be along the way.

Finally, he and Nicodemus were joined onstage by Mayor Galloway, who nodded formally to them both, trying to mask his terror. He had two young daughters, Harakuise knew, somewhere out there in the audience. Their chances of being reaped were slim, of course, but Harakuise knew as well as anyone that 'slim' wasn't the same as 'none.' His own name had only been in the reaping bowl three times, after all, and he'd still been chosen. Anyone could be chosen. That was the point.

Once everyone was in place, their escort joined them onstage. "Hello, District Thirteen!" she called, beaming out at the crowd. "My name is Miranda Canestro, and I'm absolutely thrilled to be your very first escort."

The name sounded familiar, but it took Harakuise a moment to place her. She'd spent most of her time as an escort moving from one outer district to another, including a one-year stint in District Six. Harakuise glanced over at Nicodemus, who nodded in recognition. District Six had gone through quite a few escorts ever since the 42nd Games, but Nicodemus was good with faces. But he said nothing, instead watching intently as Miranda made her way to the first reaping bowl, mixed the papers around for dramatic effect, and drew a slip. "Beatrice Turner!"

The seventeen-year-old section slowly parted around a girl in a simple dark grey dress and black flats. The surprise on her face quickly turned to anger, and she practically stormed towards the stage. "Of course!" she grumbled loudly enough for the microphones to pick her up. "Of course it would be someone like me. Not one of the people who caused this mess, but just someone who wanted to live my life in peace." For a moment, there were mutters of agreement from the crowd, so she continued. "Damn ingrates coming in and–"

"I volunteer!"

The shout came as Beatrice reached the top of the stairs, and she turned abruptly, scanning the crowd. A girl in a plain black shirt and jeans hurried out of the eighteen-year-old section, and the crowd quickly made way for her. She didn't stop until she was standing on the step below Beatrice, who still hadn't moved. "I volunteer," she repeated. "That means you don't have to go."

"I know what it means," Beatrice spat, and that was probably true. The reaping mechanics had certainly been explained, but the crowd clearly hadn't been expecting anyone to actually volunteer. There was murmuring in the crowd, but unlike a moment ago, it didn't sound like angry murmuring. People were confused. Maybe a little relieved.

Certainly Beatrice looked relieved once the realization finally sank in. "Thanks," she muttered, taking a step past the volunteer and heading down the stairs without any more comment. The girl who had volunteered finished making her way up the stairs. She was about average height and slim, with long, unevenly cut medium brown hair and blue-grey eyes.

But what caught Harakuise's attention was her skin. Well, two things about her skin. First, she was tan. Not naturally tan-skinned, but tan from time spent in the sun, with visible tan lines halfway up her arms, an unusual trait in a district where a large percentage of the population still preferred to live underground. Second, there were scars on her arms. Old scars, long and thin. District Five was well-known as a loyal Career district now, but Harakuise still knew scars from a whip when he saw them. Wherever she'd come from, he was certain she hadn't been born in Thirteen.

That alone didn't tell him much about her, of course. A sizable minority of Thirteen's population hadn't been born there. What was more telling was the way she glanced at Nicodemus as she made her way over to Miranda. For his part, Nicodemus' expression was carefully neutral. The girl turned to the crowd and managed a half-smile at Miranda as she asked the obvious question. "And what's your name, young lady?"

"Karina Wheeler."

Wheeler. Yes, almost certainly District Six. "And would you care to say a word about why you volunteered, Karina?"

She froze. Only for a second, but it was there, and it was enough. Enough for him to tell that this wasn't some grand plan – or if it was, not a perfectly calculated one. It had looked like it for a moment – waiting until the other girl was almost onstage, jumping in at the last moment. It would look good for the cameras, but that hadn't been the intention. She hadn't thought everything through – not really thought it all through. She had no idea what she was going to say.

"I … I want to represent District Thirteen." Not bad. Vague, but not bad. "All of us," she continued. "Those of us who have lived here our whole lives and … and those of us who haven't."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harakuise caught a flicker of a smile from Nicodemus. Damn, he really was more relaxed here. Miranda, meanwhile, was practically glowing as she took the microphone back. "How exciting! District Thirteen's very first reaping, and you're already getting into the spirit of things! Isn't that marvelous! Now, let's see who will be joining you." She reached into the second bowl, gave the papers a swirl, and drew one. "Maurice Spindle!"

Spindle. Well, that was a District Eight name if he'd ever heard one. The fifteen-year-old section had barely parted, however, before there was a second cry of "I volunteer!" and a figure in a grey shirt with a gold and maroon paisley pattern, black dress slacks, and black shoes strode out of the eighteen-year-old section. The volunteer moved quickly through the crowd, which parted easily in surprise. Two volunteers in their very first year. This certainly wasn't what they'd been expecting.

It hadn't been what Harakuise was expecting, either, but it was nice to be surprised sometimes. The newcomer moved quickly up the stairs and slid around Karina to join Miranda at the microphone. The second volunteer was taller than Karina and lithe, with fair skin, black hair, and almond-shaped brown eyes. "And what's your name, young man?" Miranda asked.

"Ophiuchus Valdemar. And young person will do quite nicely. They/them, if you please." They smiled pleasantly at the crowd and gave a half-wave. A calculated half-wave. There was no hesitation, no shyness, but seeming too eager might give the wrong impression.

"Ophiuchus," Miranda repeated. "That's quite a mouthful."

"My friends call me Ophi."

"And what brings you up here, Ophi?"

"Did I say you were a friend?" There was a teasing smile there, but also something behind the smile.

Something Miranda apparently hadn't picked up on, because she kept right on going. "Well, I certainly hope to be. Care to share what prompted you to volunteer today?"

Ophiuchus turned to the crowd. "I think my district partner put it quite well. The Games are for all of us – those of you who came here from elsewhere, and those of us who were born here. What better way to represent the best that District Thirteen has to offer?"

They turned to Karina and held out their hand. Karina shook it, and the pair turned to the crowd as Miranda announced, "District Thirteen, your very first tributes! Karina Wheeler and Ophi Valdemar! Let's give them a warm round of applause!"

To Harakuise's surprise, there actually was scattered applause. Not a lot. Certainly not a majority or even a significant minority of the crowd. But some people were clapping. Maybe they were simply relieved that the two tributes had chosen to be there, that no one was going unwillingly to their death. But maybe it was something more, something deeper. Maybe they realized what their district had the potential to become, if only they had the guts to step up and claim their place among the other districts.

The cameras clicked off, and Ophiuchus turned to Harakuise and Nicodemus, holding out their hand. Nicodemus shook it, and then Harakuise did the same. "Nicely put, Ophiuchus."

"Didn't you hear? It's Ophi to my friends."

Harakuise returned the smile. "I heard." He held out his hand to Karina, who shook it before turning to Nicodemus. Nicodemus shook her hand, his gaze lingering for just a second on the scars on her arm. If Karina noticed, she didn't say anything; she was too busy trying to look like she wasn't staring at his. Ophiuchus, who had noticed, said nothing, but smiled politely at Karina as they were led away.

Harakuise waited until the pair were out of earshot before turning to Nicodemus. "So what do you think?"

"I think that went about as well as we could have hoped for. They're not the sort of volunteers you're used to, I don't think."

"Careers? No, they're not Careers – not by a long stretch. And you don't think that. You know that. You recognized the girl."

It hadn't been a question, but Nicodemus nodded anyway. "Yes."

"Would you like me to take her?"

For a moment, Nicodemus said nothing, even though Harakuise already knew the answer. He watched silently as Nicodemus' desire to avoid anything related to Six vied with what he knew was best for both of the tributes. "No," he said at last. "Thank you, but no. I'll take her. I think Ophiuchus is playing your sort of game."

"No, you know they are," Harakuise corrected. "And Karina is playing yours."

Nicodemus sighed. "I know she is."

Harakuise nodded. "And you know something about what brought her here from Six."

"Something, yes."

Harakuise smiled. That was the only answer he was going to get, and that was fair. He knew a thing or two himself; the name Valdemar had come up once or twice while he'd been underground getting a feel for the district. Apparently, there had been a pair of high-ranking government officials with that name who hadn't survived the virus.

Of course, that didn't necessarily mean there was a connection. For all he knew, "Valdemar" might be as common a name here as "Wheeler" was in Six, or all sorts of names ending in "wood" in Seven. He knew better than to leap to a conclusion about something like that, but it was an intriguing possibility. Harakuise smiled as he followed Nicodemus down the ramp.

This was certainly going to be an interesting year.

Karina Wheeler, 18

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Karina looked up as Kasi hurried into the room, trailed by the twins, Orfeo and Warin. Karina stood up quickly. "Look, Kasi, I can explain–"

"It better be a good one! Were you planning to do this?"

Karina hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd try to talk me out of it."

"Damn right I would have. What were you thinking?"

"I–"

"You've been like a sister to us since we found you. Why would you go and–"

"Kasi, would you please let me explain?" Karina interrupted.

Kasi fell silent, the sound of her shaky breathing filling the room. Finally, she nodded. "Okay."

Karina sank back into her seat. "Look, the day you three found me outside Six three years ago – that was the best thing that ever happened to me. You know that. Being here … it's been good. I got a second chance at life. I owe that to you – to Thirteen. This is my home now, and … and I can't stand what I see happening here."

Kasi shook her head. "There's nothing we can do about the Capitol."

"I'm not talking about what the Capitol's doing. I'm talking about what we're doing to ourselves. People are at each other's throats, Kasi. The fighting. The threats. Them and us. I've seen this before – back in Six. I was part of it before, and it … it was a mess. People died. My friends died. You know what I did, Kasi, what I was escaping from. Gangs going after each other, taking out their frustration on each other, instead of helping each other survive. I can't let that happen here."

For a moment, Kasi said nothing. She knew the part Karina hadn't said. You know what I did. What she had done … it was terrible, but at the time, she'd felt like she had no other choice. Like it was the only way to escape. She'd been desperate – desperate enough to kill in order to get away from the violence. She couldn't let that happen to kids here. They couldn't grow up like that. Thirteen was under the Capitol's control now, and there was nothing anyone could do about that, but they could decide to work together rather than turning on each other.

Kasi nodded. "And you thought if you volunteered…"

"Call it an olive branch," Karina finished. "A gesture of peace. With the Capitol, but more importantly, with each other. One less child who was born here has to die. Thirteen gave me my life back, so–"

"So now you're giving your life for Thirteen? That's your plan? Sacrifice yourself for some kid who was happened to be born here instead, and that'll fix everything? Be a martyr?"

Karina shrugged. "You're only a martyr if you die."

Kasi shook her head. "This is the Hunger Games you volunteered for, Karina."

"I know that. Trust me, I know that better than you do. I know what the Games are. They're terrible, but they're also a platform. Everyone in Thirteen will be watching me fight for them. Watching someone who wasn't born here represent them in the Games. It won't fix everything, but … but maybe it's a start."

Kasi nodded silently. So did the twins, who were usually so talkative. But this … this had taken them by surprise. She was sorry about that, but it had been the only way. If she'd told them ahead of time, there was no way she could have gone through with it. They would have talked her out of it. Guilted her out of it, probably, telling her that she couldn't just leave them like that, that they were family, and that was more important than whether some other people blamed each other for what had happened.

But it wasn't more important. Because their family wouldn't be the same if the in-fighting and fear and blame that plagued Six took hold in Thirteen. They wouldn't be safe anymore. How many people knew that Kasi had brought her to Thirteen? That she had brought Orfeo and Warin here from Eleven? How long would they be safe in the district that Thirteen was becoming?

One of the people who caused this mess. That was what Beatrice had said at the reaping. Karina had been hesitating, second-guessing herself, until that moment. She had almost stayed silent, almost backed out, but those words had given her the extra push she'd needed. The extra courage she'd needed to follow through.

She hadn't caused this mess, of course. Neither had Kasi. That was too big a claim for any one person to make. So many things had contributed to the mess, so many decisions that couldn't be taken back now. And it would take more than one person – more than one decision – to clean it up again.

But maybe one decision could be a start.

Ophiuchus Valdemar, 18

"You never asked me to call you Ophi."

Ophiuchus chuckled as their ten-year-old neighbor Ashanti plopped down in the chair beside them. "That's because none of my friends actually call me Ophi." Because they didn't have friends, but they didn't say that out loud. Ashanti might take it the wrong way. The little girl was nice enough, which was why they'd chosen her to look after Viper while they were away. But she wasn't really what they would consider a friend.

Their parents' friends had sometimes called them Ophi – usually when they'd had a bit too much to drink at a party. Ophiuchus had hated those parties, hated being dressed up and paraded out like a doll for the entertainment of others. But drunk people talked, and they talked even more if they thought you were their friend. If they thought you liked them. Most people talked more if they thought you liked them. Sometimes they said something useful. Very occasionally, they might even say something intelligent.

Ashanti was squinting, as if trying to work out the puzzle. "That doesn't make any sense."

Ophiuchus leaned back patiently in their chair. "People like to think that they're special – that they're part of a unique group, even if that group is completely meaningless. If you tell someone that only your friends get to do something, then suddenly everyone wants to be in that arbitrary group. Letting that woman call me Ophi costs me nothing – and it might be useful in the future."

"How?"

"I'm not sure yet," Ophiuchus admitted. They weren't entirely sure what escorts actually did during the Games. The mentors were there to give them advice and help find them sponsors, but the escorts' role was less clear, aside from drawing names at the reaping. But in any case, when people in the Capitol watched the reapings, they would see a tribute from Thirteen being friendly with someone from the Capitol. That would probably make an impression on some of them, at least.

Making an impression – that was the thing. They had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here. Most of the people in the Capitol would have no idea what to expect from Thirteen, no idea why they had volunteered. Representing the best that Thirteen has to offer. That had been a lie. A useful lie, and a lie, perhaps, with a grain of truth. But a lie, nonetheless. Time would tell whether they were truly the best that Thirteen could offer, but that would have been a silly reason to volunteer.

And Ophiuchus Valdemar didn't do 'silly.'

Their parents had been silly. Silly parties and silly clothes and silly friends. They'd had power and influence, but they'd never done anything with it. Everything had been about maintaining their status, about keeping their fortune secure. Ophiuchus could have done better – much better – but they'd been silenced at every turn, punished if they stepped out of line. So they'd learned to play along, to bide their time, waiting for their moment.

Then the virus had swept through the district, and suddenly the fact that their parents kept them hidden away in their room when they weren't needed had turned to an advantage. Without contact with anyone, they had been safe – or at least, as safe as anyone could be. When Thirteen had surrendered and the antidote had arrived, it had come too late to save their parents.

Or at least, that was what they told anyone who asked.

By that time, their parents had been helpless. The puppeteers' own strings had been cut. Had they even been aware of what was going on? Had either of them been coherent enough to see Ophiuchus drink all three vials so as not to leave any evidence? Maybe. Maybe not. It didn't matter now. They were gone, and Ophiuchus was still alive.

That could have been the end of it. Would have been the end of it, if things had gone according to plan. With their parents' wealth, they could have lived easily for the rest of their days. But unbeknownst to them at the time, their parents had left their fortune to the district to be used for the 'greater good.' Ensuring that they would be remembered with fondness – and that Ophiuchus would be left with nothing.

Nothing. But in some ways, 'nothing' was a comforting word.

It meant they had nothing to lose.

Well, almost nothing. Ophiuchus laid a hand on Ashanti's shoulder. "Don't you worry about it. Just take care of Viper until I get back, and I'll see you're rewarded for it."

The last part wasn't necessary, they knew. Ashanti loved the kitten and would gladly take care of it for free for the rest of her life if she could. But people liked to feel useful. They liked to feel appreciated. And once they had the wealth of a Victor at their disposal, a little reward for Ashanti would be easy enough to spare.

Ashanti smiled up at them. "Be careful. I'm sure Viper would miss you if…"

If they died. But Ashanti didn't finish the thought, and Ophiuchus wasn't going to force her to. That would be needlessly cruel, after everything she'd already lost. She probably thought of them as a friend, and even if the feeling wasn't mutual, there was nothing to be gained by being unkind. "I'll be careful," Ophiuchus promised.

And it was a lie. 'Careful' wasn't what they needed right now. If there was one thing they were good at, it was knowing the right tools for the right moment. Right now, they needed to be cunning. Daring. Ruthless. 'Careful' might keep you alive for a while, but 'bold' would eventually win.

And Ophiuchus was here to win.

"Bravery and loyalty are great qualities for soldiers. If you want to be king, sometimes you have to be willing to take what's yours."