District 1 Pre-Reapings

FLEUR MONTGOMERY (17)

DISTRICT ONE FEMALE

"A bit of fun never hurt anyone!"

Fleur told everyone in her life that simple phrase, one that set her apart from the rest of her snooty noble family steeped in tradition and formality, the family stuffed full with pomp and grandeur, the family coated thick with pride and battle scars.

She never gave a damn about all the prim and proper etiquette that her mother tried to drill furiously into her head from a young age, or all the times her relatives tried fervently to hype up the torturous kills that the tributes from One committed in the arena.

Nope, Fleur preferred to march to the beat of her own drum, a beat that was, for the most part, an unforeseen cacophony of foreign nonsense to the rest of her family.

As she donned her usual pink dress, one that appalled her family due to its 'childish' frills and unfashionable look, Fleur shot a glance at the flowers on her desk. A bouquet of fresh tulips stood daintily in a crystal-clear glass vase, the brightest of rainbow hues dancing upon their petals as they reached upwards with a happy chorus of colourful beauty. A radiant smile beamed upon Fleur's face as Alder's charming face blossomed into her mind. He had given her this bouquet on Valentine's Day, rather jokingly, but Fleur could sense there was a sort of sweetness about the way he blushed slightly as he handed the flowers to her. Sure, he had insisted that it was merely a friendly joke, yet Fleur could spy with her little eye a blooming crush that Alder harboured within that sweet heart of his.

She giggled as the thought washed over her. "Oh, silly little Alder," she sighed. With a little skip on her step, she tried to brush his face out of her mind, although it was a permanent tenant in her brain and refused to be evicted, and she skipped out into the vast hallways of the Montgomery-Leung house, one of many within the Montgomery estate, each housing the families of a specific subclan of the larger Montgomery clan.

But Luca Leung was not her father, rather he was her stepfather.

Moira Montgomery, her mother, was known for being a bit of a 'hooker' amongst the family, having slept with countless men before eventually marrying Luca for the long run. In doing so, many of her children, including Fleur, had no inkling of who their biological father could be.

Mom said he was a big meanie, Fleur recalled, shuddering slightly at the thought. Maybe it was for the best that she was left in the dark after all.

Fleur hopped onto the railing of the large spiral staircase that sat royally in the front gallery, her face adorned with that trademark goofy smile of hers. a shimmering golden chandelier showering her with sparkling light like a disco ball as she slid down the railing, chuckling in delight the whole way down. She had never walked down this staircase, not since she was a tiny tot. Since then, in spite of every sort of punishment or chastising her parents flung her way, she refused to take the boring way down.

Because why would you do that, when there was a fun way down?

"Whee!" she squealed, a rush of adrenaline, albeit a relatively minuscule one, stoking the adventurous flames of her heart.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of one of her numerous sisters, Camilla, firing an annoyed glare in her direction, her arms crossed, her immaculate, glossy hair glistening furiously with the fiery radiance of the sunlight that shone through the windows and upon the blonde strands.

Fleur didn't even spare her a second thought. She slid off the railing and leapt into the air, attempting to perform a flip in the air but slipping and landing flat on her butt instead. Pain shot up her body, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. Camilla's words, on the other hand, bore the sting of a scorpion.

"That's what happens to bitchy little losers like you," she snarled, her voice rife with tyrannical menace. "You slip, you fall, and boom, just like that, you'll end up dead in the arena, and we'll never have to hear your stupid, pathetic voice ever again. The silence will be music to my ears."

Fleur gritted her teeth, gripping her dress tightly in an attempt to hold back a torrent of anger that had descended upon her.

I'll win the Games, and I'll move out, and never have to see them again, she thought to herself. It was a tactic that had worked for three of her relatives before, so she figured it would be her best bet to get away from this horrendous bunch and their frankly quite shameful ways.

Besides, even if she didn't want to volunteer, it wasn't as though she had much of a choice anyway.

She had been chosen, you couldn't simply refuse or chicken out. No, the ramifications of doing so would be far worse than death. A life of slavery and torture would await her, and Fleur couldn't even bear the thought of it.

Ignoring a second wave of mockery from Camilla, she flung the door open and waltzed right out, humming loudly to herself to drown out Camilla's voice. As she pranced over the front lawn, a lawn that was given more care and attention than all of their servants and employees, she couldn't help but deeply inhale the wondrous smell of fresh air and flowers that swirled through the air. After being cooped up indoors for the whole of yesterday, being outdoors felt greatly refreshing, like all the negative energy that had built up within her during her time being trapped indoors for Capitol Etiquette Lessons had been washed away at the mere sight of a troupe of butterflies pirouetting through the air like fairy dancers as beneath them, on the flower bed, crowds of flowers gazed upwards in a dazzling show of colours as they watched the butterflies perform.

Instantly, that trademark smile of hers was once again pasted back on her face. On a bright, sunny day like this one, just two days away from the Reaping, there was one place she had in mind where she could while the hours away. She set off on an excited skip through the intricately cobbled paths of the Montgomery estate, heading straight for the North Gate, which had direct access to the Victors' Village, where Aunt Crystal lived.

Aunt Crystal was the older sister of Moira, and while on the outside they bore an uncanny resemblance, they could not be more different on the inside. Aunt Crystal was much kinder, sweeter, more determined than Moira, and most importantly, Aunt Crystal loved fun. That was a rarity in this family. Furthermore, she was a Victor, someone who earned her credentials and status, unlike Moira who relied heavily on her husband as if Luca was her daily life support machine.

As the North Gate popped into view, she skipped past a small aquarium, run by one of her cousins. His name was one that Fleur could never quite remember. Roland? Roman? Ronan? Something of that sort. Pressing her face against the glass window of the aquarium, she squinted at the exhibit closest to the window, a freshwater pool of fishes that had been brought in from the Snake River, located in another part of their District. Fleur had been there once with Aunt Crystal on a fishing trip.

All she could say was, perhaps trying to befriend a bear hungry for salmon hadn't been the best idea.

Just as she peeled her face away from the aquarium window, a loud cry of agony shattered the serenity that had hung sweetly in the air. The cry was high-pitched, possibly that of a young boy. His voice was strained, desperate, and Fleur soon heard him beg frantically for mercy at the top of his lungs.

Fleur frowned. "The heck?" she muttered, jogging over to the scene, her eyebrows knitted with concern. What was going on? She headed in the direction of the Montgomery-Pimenova building, where the screaming seemed to emerge from. As the screaming grew louder, Fleur picked up her pace, eager to get to the bottom of what was going on.

It didn't seem very fun at all.

No one else could hear the screaming, since no one else was out and about. The walls of the estate were mostly soundproof, denying the boy any sort of help from the residents.

It was up to Fleur to help out.

She rounded a corner, her clumsy self nearly bumping into a column. Instantly, she gasped. The sight of a burly, fifteen-year-old Panzer Montgomery, with his sleek blonde hair and disgustingly handsome features, greeted her. She scowled. Fleur had never been fond of that boy. In fact, she despised him. Hailing from the elitist Mongtomery-Montague clan, by far the most prestigious one in the estate, he was the epitome of a snobbish, volatile jerk.

And today, he was being just that.

At his mercy was a little boy dressed in a white-collared uniform with black stripes, one worn by the servants of the Montgomery-Montague clan. He had blonde hair covered in soot, dirt and blood, along with bloodshot blue eyes. The boy couldn't have possibly been older than eight or nine, and his skinny stature and hollow cheeks indicated a lowly upbringing and accursed lifestyle within the estate, a common, recurring theme amongst the employees of this place. The boy stared up at Panzer.

There was no mistaking the pure terror glowing in his eyes.

His entire body was shaking, his arms were raised in a futile attempt to cover himself from any further blows, his lips were spewing out droops of blood yet still desperately crying for help.

It was a scene that Fleur was all too familiar with. In fact, it was one she saw almost every day, a carbon copy of a common ritual within these grounds. A scene that never failed to sear through her heart with blazing fury.

"HEY!" Fleur growled, sprinting towards Panzer, her fists balled. Her fun, cheerful facade had been washed away, and in its place was a rampant spirit that could barrel through anything- or anyone.

Panzer looked up, initially startled by the sudden shout, but then his eyes steeled and he whipped around, assuming a defensive stance, one leg forward, two fists balled and aimed at the ready, lips pursed in concentration.

Fleur didn't give a damn about all that. She had one aim and one aim only: to bring the innocent little boy lying sprawled beside him some justice. Years upon years of bullying at the hands of her relatives had fuelled a strong, fighting will within her to dispel the world of bullies and a fiery passion to follow Aunt Crystal's footsteps and win so she could be freed from the clutches of this horrid family.

Fleur was often seen as clumsy, silly, naive, but today, she felt as though she could punch a hole in Panzer's face.

And she did just that. Well, not quite, but she did swing a power-loaded haymaker straight into his face, letting out an ear-splitting scream of warmongering rage as she did so.

She was angry.

She was determined.

She was unstoppable.

Panzer stumbled backwards as blood began to spew out from his wounds. He howled in pain, the expression on his face one of scrunched-up agony.

But Fleur wasn't quite done with him yet.

With all the might of a future Hunger Games Victor, she slammed her knee into his gut, before slamming him in the jaw one last time for good measure. Panzer crumpled into a heap, a broken, bloodied tooth flying out of his mouth before falling to the ground with a soft clink! The big brute lay sprawled right there and then, all that bravado and intimidation he had displayed only five seconds ago diminished completely.

Fleur paid him no more attention. She was much more focused on the little boy that was on the ground next to Panzer, his face lit up in awe. "That was amazing," he breathed, his eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and fascination.

"Oh that was nothing," Fleur replied nonchalantly. "What's your name?"

"Gloss Irvine," the boy stammered, his wondrous expression falling all of a sudden as he continued to stare at her. His face turned dark, and he seemed horrified by her. Fleur raised an eyebrow, concern flooding into her eyes. Was it something she said? "You're the volunteer girl, aren't you?"

Fleur puffed up her chest in mock pride and flashed him a toothy grin. "At your service! A pleasure to meet you, Sir Gloss of Irvine." Her voice turned grand, imitating the grandiose of the head of the Montgomery-Montague clan, whose majestic tone was often the butt of jokes around the estate.

Gloss managed a small smile. "My sister Cashmere managed to steal a copy of your poems the other day. They're beautiful."

Fleur chuckled. Poetry was a guilty pleasure of hers, an activity frowned upon by her family, yet one she loved to indulge in nonetheless. Something about pouring all of her feelings onto a page using intricate wording filled her with warmth and comfort, and in no time, she managed to get a couple of her best poems published by the Capitol, albeit against her family's wishes.

Oh well.

"I'm glad you liked them, Sir Gloss," she drawled, still in that grand voice she took on for fun. "Now then, let us proceed to the enchanted land of my Aunt Crystal's house. She will take the utmost great care of you, young lad!"

Gloss's smile widened as he took her hand.

And it was smiles like his that meant the world to Fleur.

ALDER PIERCE (18)

DISTRICT ONE MALE

"It's gonna be alright."

A line that Alder repeated day after day to his twin sister Cara to keep her fighting spirit alive and well.

A line that Alder partially directed at himself in a feeble attempt at reassuring himself that everything was fine.

But everything was not fine.

He sat on the old wooden chair that had stood the tests of time, having lasted six generations, a civil war and three anti-noble riots.

He wished he could have even an ounce of this chair's hardiness.

Rocking back and forth, he clutched the tiny scrap of delicate paper tightly in his fingers, crinkling and folding its ends absentmindedly. His gaze was lowered, the trajectory of his eyes directed at the rotting floor of Cara's room and the ants that scuttled back and forth around the legs of her beds like the busy workers at the factories of Billings, their dark heads swerving about like the workers' half-broken helmets during a frantic rush. Their tiny bodies seemed so frail, and a single gust of wind could probably send them whirling away into the unknown.

And yet, after seeing these ants cooperate to take their queen across a river, he knew that this was far from the truth.

These little guys packed quite a punch in their tiny bodies and possessed great strength indeed.

Alder, on the other hand, seemed to be powerful at first glance, as shown by all those muscles he'd obtained after years of training at the Career Academy.

And yet, he was left powerless when it came to the fate of his own beloved twin sister.

Glancing up, his heart burned with pangs of pain as he locked eyes with Cara. The poor girl was lying on her bed, her expression awash with suffering, her cold, pale hands cupped around her nebuliser that ensured she could breathe. Cystic fibrosis and a lung infection had swooped in like a demon of the night, seizing control of her once healthy body and subjecting her to constant torment. She had only been eleven then, too young for that sort of pain, too young to be staring death in the face.

Then again, they had also been too young when their father had flown.

That was why Cara's diagnosis had taken such a huge toll on them, they had only just lost their father to cystic fibrosis. It felt like history was repeating itself, the fabrics of time unravelling and tying themselves around a second, beloved victim. Deja vu had strick them in the worst possible way, and it seemed like the world was laughing at the family's misery.

But Alder had to hide his pain, had to stay strong, had to be the positive voice in the room even when he didn't feel like it.

Staring at Cara right now, the twin whose medical bills had given him reason to join the Academy in return for a small recruit's earning, he forced himself to flash her a warm smile, one she duly returned, although Alder could spot the pained creases forming on her forehead as she did so. Her condition had worsened recently and she required Capitol treatment, a treatment that, in District One, was restricted to only the noble class and the Victors.

"I wish I could give you the funds to help out," his best friend Fleur, an extremely wealthy noble girl, had lamented. "But my money is kept under a tight leash by my mother. I'm sorry."

He didn't blame her, not at all. She was a sweet, caring girl who had tried to help his family out in any way possible that didn't result in her being beaten up by her relatives.

Just a shame he might have to kill her in the arena.

He wasn't supposed to volunteer, no non-noble children were, since volunteering was a 'privilege' only the nobles had, but with Cara's health deteriorating, he didn't have a choice. He hadn't told Fleur, out of fear of how she would react. She would have probably tried to sabotage his volunteering, such was her desperation to make sure he was safe and out of harm's way.

But once again, he knew he had no other choice.

"Alder," Cara croaked, the sound of her voice triggering his chromesthesia and stirring up a lovely, rosy red image in his head.

"Cara," he breathed, resisting the urge to lunge and wrap her in a bear hug like they used to do to each other.

"Do you mind reading another poem?" she muttered, her voice low and hoarse, her eyelids heavy, tired from the neverending uphill battle she had been thrown into.

"Of course," Alder said, his gaze shifting back to the sheet of paper in his hands, which he had folded into a tiny, crumpled rectangle. He quickly unfolded it and tried to smoothen the paper with little success. Sighing, he scanned the elegantly inscribed words one last time, and began to read aloud Fleur's poem.

"Alone

Darkness will creep

The tides have piled high

And I'm in ten feet deep

Alone

The light has gone out

The world falls apart

And I can't find my way out-"

He continued reading the rest of the poem, every word that slipped from his lips striking a dark, dreary feeling in his heart that felt so wrong yet so right. Fleur's lines seemed to flow with such intricate beauty that Alder's heart began to soar as he read the lines. Alder had once tried learning how to craft poetry as beautiful as Fleur's, just for the fun of it, but he'd attained little success. Still, that didn't stop him from writing his own bit of prose every now and then with the help of Fleur, who'd already written countless mesmerising short stories at such a young age. He knew he was bad at it, but he kept coming back for more, because where was the harm in trying? And besides, it was all in the name of fun, so he couldn't care less about what others thought.

"Alone

Well not anymore

The darkness runs high

But we'll walk right through"

He trailed off as he finished the poem, his voice speechless as he thought about just how hard this poem had struck him deep down in his heart. Fleur had always possessed a knack for hitting him right in the feels with her literary works. It was almost as though these poems had a vendetta against his feeble little heart, the way they were written.

Looking back at Cara, he felt a wave of relief in his heart when he saw her smile, a real, genuine one, the one possessed by the Cara who had once chased him around the Four Dances with what she called 'Skunk Essence'.

Instantly, he felt a smile spread across his face, one brighter than the Sagittarius constellation that shone brightly on the night of their eighteenth birthday.

This was the twin he knew and loved.

"I feel sleepy," Cara murmured. "I should-"

"-get some sleep," Alder finished, nodding along. The local medics had told her to get plenty of rest, and despite the fact that Alder had never been one to believe these often sketchy medics, he was inclined to agree with them on this one. "Yeah, you-"

"-should." Cara finished for him this time, a weak grin on her face as she did so. "Alright, see you-"

"-later. Bye, love you Cara," Alder reached forward and patted her head, something that made Cara frown with annoyance but Alder didn't mind. He loved poking a bit of fun at his twin when he could, just to liven the despondent mood about the household a little.

"Love you too Alder," Cara replied, giving him a slight eye roll before rolling over and squeezing her eyes shut, and for a moment she looked relaxed, peaceful as ever.

Alder slipped quietly out the door. Prying his eyes away from his twin, he grabbed his old, worn, torn backpack, given to him by District One's first ever Victor Sapphire Huntington on his second day at the Academy after she'd seen him wandering about with a tattered plastic bag to carry his stuff, before heading for the front door, only to find himself halted by the other set of twins in the house.

Bianca and Katrina Pierce, the dynamic duo of the family, two ten-year-old girls bubbling with a constant burst of energy that never ceased to amaze Alder. They had their mother's long, raven black hair with several curls, coiffured to reveal a pair of grinning faces. Their eyes were a riveting shade of hazel, full of life and youthful vigour. Katrina limped a little from her sprained ankle sustained while playing a game of tennis with Alder the evening before. She absolutely loved tennis, Katrina, and Alder couldn't help but enjoy those blissful moments he could spend dashing about the makeshift tennis court at Josephine's Park with Katrina, laughing as the pair indulged in a favourite pastime of theirs.

But Katrina had paid the price of having a little too much fun, and as such, it would be two weeks before she could be given the green light to step onto the court once again.

Today though, it was almost as if Katrina had forgotten about the ebbing pain that only the night before had brought about aggrieved howls of agony from the usually excitable girl with the most whimsical of nighttime dreams. She and Bianca hopped towards Alder, wielding twin grins as they blocked him from leaving for the Academy. Alder gave them a sly smile. "What's up, girls?"

Bianca raised an eyebrow, giving Katrina a sideways glance before turning back to Alder and jabbing her finger into his chest. "You promised to buy us ice cream today," she reminded him.

Alder chuckled. Every six months, he would take the twins to Florian's, the local ice cream parlour renowned for their wacky flavours and cheap prices. The part about their ice cream being cheap was a big plus for Alder, whose family were struggling to keep afloat financially. And with Cara's declining health and spiking bills, money was especially tight. But Florian Koopmeiners, the brother of one of Cara's medics, often took pity on them and gave them special discounts on top of the existing low prices, something that filled Alder with immense gratitude every time he visited. In return, Alder had once thrown him a fun little surprise birthday party, but that was a story for another time.

"When are we going?" Katrina whined, tapping her foot impatiently.

Alder booped her nose, which irked Katrina to no end. But seeing her priceless reactions was worth the potential swing of her fist that sometimes came flying his way. Thankfully, no fists were thrown about today. "We'll go once I get home from the Academy," he promised.

"That's what you said yesterday!" Bianca protested, her pouty face making Alder fight back a laugh that was bubbling like hot lava inside his throat. "I don't believe you."

I wonder where she got that from, Alder thought. He and Bianca were often seen as too reluctant to trust others, two people who built walls too high around themselves. Maybe that was why neither of them had many friends or got along well in society. Maybe that was why the other kids excluded them from all their parties and festivals. Maybe that was why neither of them vented much about their problems to anyone.

But Alder had Fleur and Bianca had Romeo, two absolute sweethearts of friends, whose very existence made up for everything.

Even so, sometimes Alder found himself stopping just short of telling Fleur a couple of things. Perhaps it was because of the family she hailed from. Regardless, though he could never quite pinpoint what the reason was, there was that little bit of doubt stuck in his heart like pinpricks, trying to eclipse all of their years of friendship and replace it with condescending mistrust towards the funny, sweet, pretty girl from the Montgomery family.

Whatever it was, Alder knew that he had to fight it back and maintain the chirpy, positive attitude that he always had around her.

"This time I really promise, and if I don't honour my words, you can tell Fleur to give me a good kick in the butt," Alder told them.

Katrina's eyes lit up when she heard that last bit. Of course, she had always loved kicking him as part of a prank. And seeing Fleur do that, oh she would never let him forget it. The girl he had a crush on, humiliating him in front of everyone. How delightful. "Can she come with us later on?" She wiggled her eyebrows as she said this and Alder wondered if he should say yes, knowing that the twins would likely cause havoc.

But Fleur loved the pair, he couldn't deny her the chance to play with them. "Alright then, and bring along our frisbee too. We haven't played with it in ages," Alder suggested.

Katrina's eyes drooped. "But I can't walk," she pouted.

Alder patted her shoulder, grinning broadly, "Oh don't worry about that. I'm Mr Fun, I'll figure something out with Mrs Fun to make sure you can play with us too."

Bianca shot him an amused look. "Wait, so if you're Mr Fun, and Fleur's Mrs Fun, does that mean you two…" She made a smacking sound with her lips, and Katrina began to burst into peals of laughter.

Rolling his eyes, Alder could feel his face turn bright red with embarrassment. "Oh shut up," he told them, smacking Bianca's arm lightly as he did so.

But the wide smile on his face betrayed it all.

CHECK-IN:

If your tribute were to travel in a modern AU, where would they go? (yes I know this sounds very weird but as someone who's concurrently doing a TED talk on travel this was the first thing that popped into my mind lol)

A/N: And there we have it! 24 tributes, all wrapped up, locked, loaded and ready to be shipped off into the Capitol for some fun and games! Sorry this took so long to get out of the bag, I'm really sorry that life has slowed down my update speed, I promise to try to speed up a little in June. Also, the poem featured in Alder's POV is a short snippet from a poem I made and uploaded on another site, I'm sorry that it's quite bad aha and parts of it had to be translated to English since the original poem incorporates lines in Dutch. Thank you to Willuna, MeTheFanatic19 and Marie464 for these two, I hope I did them justice and I love them so much. And now, shout-out to the people who made this chapter possible. Josephm611, goldie031, Remus98, Rune Whisperer, My-Mental-Mind, darth nell, Platrium, rising-balloons, matts0688 my beloved older peeps, thank you for all of your encouragements and all the times you talked with me when I needed help the most. Words cannot express how much ya'll mean to me contemporarydancer2, MeTheFanatic19, RubyTree7, Willuna, my fellow 'smols', thank you for never giving up on me and for all the conversations and times ya'll asked if I was alright. I still can't answer that outright but I love ya'll so very much. My irl friend Zandra, thank you for stopping me from pulling out my hair and hurting myself all those days and repeatedly telling me I won't fail just to lift my spirits. And finally, Marie464. Thank you for being the light of my life. You made a young boy's dreams come alive, and you were always there for me, through rain and shine, thick and thin. Dank je wel.

See ya'll in the next chapter. Cheers :)