Author stuff: Hello, strangers, old friends, and new friends!
Got a couple of things for you before you start reading. This fic and the subsequent series, Tomorrow Will Be Kinder, all have blood, gore, and violence that are typical for a Hunger Games AU. I will not be announcing what is in the contents of each chapter like I do with other fics. However, if something falls outside of that, please do let me know and I will edit the chapter to get it in.
You're going to notice that the formatting in this is a little different than normal. I'm learning how to make things more accessible for the blind and sight impaired. If anyone has any good suggestions for this, let me know!
Anyway, please enjoy!
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Chapter 1 - In Which Work Is Boring
"Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones." Shirley Jackson, "The Lottery"
The silvery fog of the early morning twisted in and out of trees, creating strange shapes that made her think that she was being followed. The trills of the frogs broke through the otherwise silent forest, sometimes accompanied by bird song. There was no rhyme or reason to it, but it was lovely to hear.
It would have been lovelier if she didn't have the urge to look over her shoulder every couple of minutes or so.
"I'm being paranoid," she said to the chipmunk ducking into the overgrowth. He looked up at her and then scampered away into the green.
She slowly picked her way through the forest, following the deer trails to a small glen she frequented when she had the spare time — which was few and far between. The sight of it, though, made her shoulders relax.
The grasses had grown almost too high for her liking, but it made it easier to hide if she ever needed. When she needed. There was no doubt in her mind that the Capitol would be sending their Peacekeepers out and about. They'd been more active then normal.
The targets she had helped make years ago had long since rotted and were decomposing into the earth. While she rather disliked it, utilizing the trees was really the only other option she had.
She climbed one of the largest trees, whose branches could cast the little glen into a welcoming shade during the warm summer months, and found the hollow easily enough. She retrieved the bundle of waterproof fabric and unwrapped the dagger hidden inside.
With the dagger in hand, she readied herself and aimed. The hilt bounced off the tree with a dull thunk. Okay, not how she wanted to start the day out.
After a few more tries, her throws had the blade stuck in the tree. Once, she'd had to use her full body to pull it out, planting her legs on the trunk of the tree for leverage. She wouldn't admit it, but that plan didn't exactly end well. She sported a bruised backside from it, though she did manage to get the dagger out. The rest of her throws hit their mark almost perfectly.
She was about to call it a morning when a voice behind her startled her from her thoughts.
"Well, you've gotten a lot better."
She whirled around, blade heading in the direction of the speaker. It was with sheer luck for the idiot that she'd tossed it wide.
"Magnus," she said, frowning. She stalked over to where her dagger lay buried into the soft earth. She wagged it in his face. "Don't sneak up on a person. It'll get you killed."
"Yeah, well," he said, shrugging with a tired sort of smile gracing his face, "better out here than in the Arena, I guess."
His blond hair was pulled back into a braid, she had done it the night before to keep it from tangling too badly while he slept.
"Don't say that. You never know if… Well…"
He nodded slowly, scanning the area with her. Neither of them spotted anything. Then again, there was always someone watching. The Capitol had the technology.
She repressed a shudder as she climbed back up the tree and hid her dagger away.
"You going to come back out tomorrow?" Magnus said as they made their way back to their district.
She shook her head.
"I don't think so. The Games start tomorrow. There won't be any time."
He nodded, easily finding the way to the weak spot in the barbed wire fence. It was supposed to be humming with electricity, but District 8 was lucky to even have an hour once a day.
Most people wouldn't even think about going beyond the fence, anyway. There was enough danger from rabid dogs, wolves, and big cats, not to mention other natural death traps and whatever punishment the Capitol thought to enforce at their leisure.
They slipped through the hole with little trouble. The people living closest eyed them but didn't say anything. They never did, and they never would.
She helped Magnus through, her eyes catching the movement of shadows in the trees. When she looked up, it was only the remnants of the early morning fog swirling.
"Come on," Magnus said, patting her shoulder, "we should get something to eat before going off to the factory."
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Factory work in District 8 for students was more menial work than what Annabeth would prefer. She knew how to work the industrial loom. It was a no-brainer. Just push a button, watch the shuttle go back and forth, watch for any snags or loose threads, keep an eye on the tension, make sure there were no broken spokes on the batten's comb, and so on and so forth. She'd learned how to work the machine when she was twelve.
She would rather be elsewhere, like in the fields with the fresh air or… at home with scraps of paper she'd stolen from school, designing something other than clothes. Like buildings. She liked that. While it could be frustrating at moments — mostly due to the lack of materials — but at least it worked her brain, unlike the machine.
She sighed, watching the shuttle shoot in one direction and then the other. The steady rhythm was almost drowned out by the nearly deafening rumble of the other machines around her. The machines that spun the thread for her machine and the others near her, the machines that bleached the fabric, the machines that spun the fabric around in dye, the machines that dried the fabric, the machines that cut the fabric, sewed pieces together for ready-made-wear for everyone in Panem.
It was all mechanized. There had to be a better way to do these things. A better way…
An alarm pierced the air, making her wince and cover her ears.
She waited for a moment, to make sure the shuttle was in the right place before powering down the machine. The fans whirred to stop all around her, the usual hum dying out into the amicable chatter of the others around her.
Magnus sidled over to her, slipping past a few people who were trying to leave.
"So," he said, "what's for dinner tonight?"
"We'll have to ask Helena," Annabeth said, slowly following the rest of the crowd out. She waved to Caspian and Lani, two of her classmates from school and childhood friends.
Magnus nodded, stroking his chin.
"I just hope it isn't soup again."
She rolled her eyes, forcing herself not to look at him. If she did? Well, they'd both end up laughing. Dinner was always soup, unless the Hunger Games were on. If they were, they'd splurge just a bit and buy some meat or nice bread with fruit in it. They went out of their way last year when her name wasn't drawn from the glass bowl.
It was all just the same. The Victor had been a massive, hulking girl with a permanent scowl etched onto her face. She'd been blunt in her interviews, honest in a way Annabeth didn't think someone from District 2 could be. A breath of fresh air, in all reality.
Annabeth wondered if she was ready to be a Mentor this year. Most likely not.
No one ever seemed ready to teach kids how to murder one another in cold blood. There was no glory in it. Then again, there was never any glory in the Hunger Games.
"What're you thinking about?" Magnus said, bumping his shoulder against her.
"About the Games."
He nodded, his eyes glazing over and he swallowed.
"It'll be my first year with my name in it."
"My name's in it. Eleven times. The odds are more in your favor than mine."
"Twelve year olds still get picked."
"Your name is only in the bowl twice. You… you'll be fine."
"Still don't know why you wouldn't let me do more. I could help out, you know. With the Tessera."
"Maybe next year." She bumped into him and gave a smile.
They both knew she wouldn't let him. She never would.
"Now," she said, "come on. Helena should be putting the final touches on dinner."
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Dinner was a thick vegetable soup made from garlic, asparagus, carrots, spinach and onions with a small portion of the flat bread made from the Tessera, topped with toasted flax seeds. The bread was flat and dense, easily absorbing the broth.
They would be switching to their summer vegetables soon enough.
"I can't wait for the Games," Bobby said.
"I know!" Matthew said, nearly knocking his bowl over. Some of the broth sloshed out and was sucked into the dry wood of the table before their mother could wipe it up. She still dabbed at the spot with an old rag, scolding him.
"Are you both ready?" Annabeth's father said, looking up at them. He looked as dry and worn as the old papers of the books in their school. The ones Annabeth could never seem to focus on properly. The ones she shouldn't even be picking up to try and read.
"Nervous," Magnus said, giving him a shy smile.
"You will be fine," Helena said, setting the rag down to pat his shoulder. She looked over at Annabeth, a warm smile spreading across her face. Annabeth looked away. "Both of you."
Matthew and Bobby went on and on about what they thought the arena would be like this year, who could possibly win, and on and on and on.
Annabeth drowned them out and focused on her food. She just had to make it through the night and tomorrow morning, and then her whole family would be in the clear of this year's Games.
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She didn't get that much sleep that night, spending most of the time tossing and turning under the thin linens of her bed. The summer heat was oppressive. It cramped the already small room, making her toss the linens off more than one time before the drying sweat made her shiver and pull them back up.
She stared up at the stained walls around her. They were lined with old drawings on scraps of paper either from old, torn posters or pages torn from books. She'd made most of them before she became of age to start working in the factory, which hadn't been too long ago, but she missed what little free time she had had to draw.
She wondered if she should find some paper and start drawing while they watched the Hunger Games. Yes, that might be a good idea.
And then, it was morning. The too bright sun streamed in through the faded curtains, making her wish she could actually get some sleep. Instead, Helena was at her door telling her to wake up. She gave a groan in response.
She heard Helena head to the boys' room, where Matthew and Bobby gave cries of excitement and bullied Magnus out of bed. A moment later and Helena was back.
"Alright, Annabeth," she said, slipping in through the door, "time to wake up. There's only a few hours before the Reaping. We need to get there on time. Please, go take a bath. I've got to get the boys ready."
Annabeth yawned, sitting up in bed. Her head felt unusually heavy and her eyes were dry.
"I'm up," she said, making no move to untangle herself from the linens.
Helena looked down at her with pursed lips.
"Annabeth, you know I don't have time for this. Please."
She rolled her eyes, kicking the linens off her legs, and got out of bed.
"I'm up. I'm up."
Helena nodded, though her lips were still tight.
"I would hurry before the bath water gets cold. Don't want to waste too much of it."
The woman slipped out, immediately calling after Matthew and Bobby to eat their breakfast. They gave raucous cries of delight. Magnus's whine rose above them, though his words were indiscernible.
Annabeth headed down to the bathroom, finding the water in the tub still steaming and smelling faintly of some kind of flowers. She stripped off her nightgown and stepped in, instantly sinking down into the warmth. She hadn't realized there was a cold that bit down into her bones until then.
She soaked, letting her finger and toes start to wrinkle before getting to work on the dirt under her nails and the tangles in her hair. When she was scrubbed red and raw, she wrapped herself in a cloth to dry off.
She reached over to the chair where she usually placed her clothes. There was nothing there. She really didn't want to leave the bathroom dripping wet.
She bit her lip and looked around, spotting a dress hanging up on one of the hooks. It wasn't the most hideous thing she'd ever worn. The rusty orange color was broken up by bright, yellow sunflowers. It fell just short of her ankles. The sleeves were too wide around her arms, as was the waist.
Her best guess: It had been a neighbor's dress up until that year. Her second best: Helena had had it made for her without knowing her measurements.
Either way, it was something to wear for today.
Magnus was waiting with bleary eyes for her to get out. His nice clothes cradled in his arms, no doubt wrinkling. He looked her up and down, his face twisting into something that could only be disgust.
"Nice dress," he said.
"Thanks," she said, spinning around and striking a pose. "It's the latest from the Capitol."
That made him snort.
"Annabeth?" Helena said from down the hallway. "Are you finished? Can you please come out here and help me for a few minutes?"
"Good luck," Magnus said. "Matt and Bobby are in a… mood."
Annabeth furrowed her brow.
"What'd you do?"
"Bye!"
He slipped right past her and closed the bathroom door.
She scoffed and headed down the hall to see what Helena needed. It was… unusually quiet.
When she poked her head into the kitchen and saw Helena all by herself, her frown deepened.
"Where are the boys?" she said, taking tentative steps in.
"With your father," Helena said. She patted the chair in front of her. "Come, sit down. I'll do your hair."
Hesitantly, Annabeth sat down in the chair while Helena picked up a bottle of oil. She poured it onto one of her palms, set it back on the table, and rubbed the oil between her hands before going after Annabeth's curls.
Her head was gently tugged this way and that before Helena seemed content with her work. Then the comb was brought out, and her hair was sectioned off. Helena somehow tamed the thick curls into a five strand braid.
"Huh."
Annabeth flicked her eyes over to the doorway. Magnus was drying his hair with a slightly stained towel. He actually looked decent in the ironed button up and tailored pants. His shoes were a bit scuffed.
"Can you do my hair too?" he said.
Annabeth let out a little laugh and moved out of the chair for him to take the spot. Helena shook her head, shoulders slumping. After a moment, she straightened and started combing his hair. In a few minutes, several braids were pulled back into buns at the back of his head.
"Right," Helena said, wiping her hands on her neat trousers. "All finished. Now, it should be about time to head down to the Justice Building. Are you both ready?"
"As I'll ever be," Magnus said, his hands going up to ruffle his hair. The moment he touched the braids, he stopped. Unsurely, his hands moved down to his sides to pull at his pants.
"Let's just get it over with," Annabeth said.
They met up with her father and brothers, who had been joined by their Uncle Randolf, on the way to the Justice Building. Matthew and Bobby scrunched up their faces, looking between Annabeth and Magnus.
"Braids are for girls," Matthew said.
"Well," Magnus said, "I'm a boy and I have braids. Does that mean I'm a girl?"
"N-no?"
"Okay then."
Neither Matthew or Bobby brought it up again.
A chill went down Annabeth's back. She almost failed at hiding it. Still, she slowly looked around, trying to find the source of it. Uncle Randolph.
"You almost look like her," he said.
Annabeth bit the inside of her cheek.
"Yes," her father said, blinking down at her, as if noticing for the first time, "she does. Only, Athena had dark hair."
Athena, Annabeth's mother, had… died when she was still little. That was the official story that she'd been spoonfed since she was little, but having spent time talking to people who remembered her? It was more complicated than that. Almost all of them were certain that Athena had been forced to leave District 8.
How, though, that was a good question.
She forced herself to look forward. They had about half an hour before the ceremonies officially started. Still, it didn't hurt to get there early. It made checking in a lot easier.
The Justice Building was a great hulk of a monstrosity in the middle of the district. It was made of dark cement. The moss that had started growing along the sides — bringing life and color to it — had been sprayed off, leaving the thing stained a garish gray.
A stage was set up in front with a podium, a handful of chairs, and two glass bowls balanced on rather narrow tables. Thin strips of paper filled both bowls. Her name was on eleven of those strips.
Cameras stood on dais, their red lights blinking. They were already filming. That was a first.
Sections of the grounds in front of the temporary stage were roped off. One side for boys, the other for girls. All for children between twelve to eighteen. They weren't even halfway filled.
Before them, tables maintained by Peacekeepers — the police and soldiers of the Capitol — waited for the children to check in. Books filled with all the names of the living were splayed out in front of each one, waiting.
Annabeth and Magnus split from their family.
"Does it hurt?" Magnus said, looking at the table.
"Checking in?" Annabeth said, eyebrows raising. "Sort of. Almost like being pricked by a spindle."
He grimaced.
"You'll be okay." She hesitated to place a hand on his shoulder. She would have pulled him into a hug, but… but Magnus didn't like hugs. Instead, she would have to settle for a gentle squeeze to his shoulder for comfort. "Your name is only in there twice, remember?"
"Yeah, but… Emma and Aubrey…"
Annabeth attempted to swallow. She had to look away from his face.
"You'll be okay," she said again, blinking back the tears pricking at her eyes.
"Promise?"
"Yeah. Promise." She gave his shoulder another squeeze. "Now, the table you need to go to is all the way down at the opposite end there. Just give your name, they'll prick your finger, and you'll be guided to where you're supposed to stand. There are already a few others in your class that are there, so you won't be alone. We'll meet up again after the Reaping is over."
He nodded and started towards the table. She watched him drag his feet a moment before he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, marching down to the table to check in.
She moved to check in herself. Lani and two other girls had already checked in, which meant only twenty more in her age group were left. They were one of the smallest classes in the school.
With no one in front of her, she simply gave her name and held out her finger. There was a prick that sent a buzzing to her ears as a sharp pain jolted down her arm. A red bead of blood swelled up where the needle had pierced. The Peacekeeper guided her finger down to the book, marking the second box next to her name.
She made her way to the rest of the girls, keeping an eye on Magnus. He was just checking in as she joined her classmates. She kept her eyes on him until he was in the right section. The boys greeted him warmly, seeming to settle whatever nerves he'd been having.
"Hey," Lani said, tapping her hand against Annabeth's. "Your hair looks nice. Wish mine could do that."
Lani's dark hair had simply been pulled back into a neat bun, resting low on the back of her head. Her bright yellow dress stood out amongst them. Then again, so did she and not in a good way.
"Thanks," Annabeth said. She glanced back at Magnus. He was joking around now. "Sorry, Magnus is really nervous."
"Twelve year olds always are. He'll be fine. His name's only in there once."
Lani laced her hand with Annabeth's giving it a squeeze.
"They're already placing bets," one of the girls — Lidya — said. Her lips were twisted and her forehead wrinkled as if she smelt something rotten. "We're not animals. We're human, kids at that. Don't they have any sense of decency?"
The others cooed at her, saying consoling things. Annabeth bit the inside of her cheek, looking over to where people were mumbling amongst themselves. They stood out from the gathered families, who stood tense with worried eyes as they searched for their loved one in the growing crowd.
"How much longer?" another girl said, dabbing her forehead with a plain, unbleached square of cloth. Where she had gotten in, Annabeth wasn't sure but she would assume a hidden pocket.
Annabeth looked at the clock on the Justice Building.
"About another seven minutes," she said.
She watched as the mayor, the escort from the Capitol, and the two Victors took the stage. They all talked jovially with one another.
Annabeth had seen the replays of the Victors' Games a handful of times.
Dramasque Zip had won the 26th Hunger Games when he'd been fifteen. He had created dummies out of twigs, sticks, and leaves, leaving them around campfires at night for the other Tributes to find. It hadn't ended well for them. They'd ended up in nets, traps, or nooses. A good percentage had died from dehydration or starvation. He'd been rather merciful closer to the end of the Games, ending five lives in under an hour.
Bobbin Pierce had won the year Annabeth had been five and had just started to comprehend that the Games were even a thing. She'd been sixteen during the 57th Hunger Games and very pretty, with big woeful eyes and a pouty lip. She'd flirted with anyone and everyone in the Games, acting frail and meek until the very last night. She'd slaughtered them in their sleep.
It was… terrifying, to think that anyone could do that.
The Mayor was a portly woman with salt and pepper hair. Her wide smile didn't quite meet her eyes. Still, she joked with the escort.
Even from where she was, Annabeth could hear his nasally laughter over the chatter around her.
The escort, a tall man with slender shoulders who'd had the unfortunate name of Nepho Guilder, sat primly in his chair. He bat playfully in the mayor's direction as they laughed.
When it was time, the mayor took the stage.
"Good morning, District 8," the mayor said, squaring her shoulders and smiling out at them.
Annabeth didn't listen as she prattled off the history of their country, Panem. She didn't need to, she knew it well. Civil war born of natural, and unnatural, tragedies. It ended with the birth of the Hunger Games and then the destruction of the rebellious District 13.
The mayor introduced the two Victors, who smiled and waved out at them. No one smiled or waved back.
Blessedly, the mayor's speech ended with the halfhearted cheers of the crowd and the escort was introduced.
"Hello, everyone!" Nepho said, sending kisses out into the barely clapping crowd. "I'm so happy to be back here again, you have no idea how much I missed you. So much fresh air out here."
He gave a great inhale and did his best not to cough at the ever present smell that hung in the air. The smell from the nearby factories where his bright red clothing had been made.
He was all pomp and circumstance when speaking to them. He was much better at his job than the previous escort, she would give him that, but she wished he'd be a bit more genuine with them. She actually might find him pleasant company then.
"Let's start with the ladies this year," he said, walking to the bowl to his right. "I feel so naughty."
He gave a little tittering laugh that only Bobbin joined in with. Dramasque gave a little smile. At least, Annabeth thought it was a smile. It was difficult to tell from this far away. The mayor's face simply pinched together.
Like always, he wound his hand around three times clockwise and three times anti-clockwise before delving in and plucking out a name with dramatic flourish. He repositioned himself in front of the microphone and carefully unfolded the slip of paper.
"Needa Loomer."
Everyone looked about as the girls' side let out a sigh of relief.
An average sized girl with broad shoulders and dark hair pulled back walked out from the section for the oldest girls. She stood tall and climbed the steps with an even pace.
"Hello, Needa," Nepho said, taking the microphone and leaning it over to her. "How are you this morning?"
"I've had better days," Needa said. Her voice was softer than Annabeth expected. It was pleasant, almost musical.
"Oh, you kidder!" Nepho giving a high laugh. When he saw Needa not joining him, he sobered up and straightened his well tailored blazer. "Now, for the boys."
Again, three times clockwise and three times anti-clockwise, delving in, dramatic flourish, moving to stand behind the microphone, and unfold the paper.
Nepho made Annabeth break her promise.
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Author stuff cont'd.: So this fic has been sitting on my Google Drive since 2017. Well, not this exact fic, but the whole idea. Book 2 was the first one I actually wrote. I started writing it while I was working at a hotel washing dishes. From there, everything pieced itself together.
There's a large cast of original characters because they were absolutely necessary to help carry this story. If you want a list, please get in line. I don't have them all written down. Which I need to do because dear lord what are the names of the past Victors? The host? That one dude?
Truthfully, this wasn't supposed to be posted for a few more months. I was prompts to actually post it today because Taylor Swift is releasing her versions on "Safe & Sound" and "Eyes Open". I got super excited when I saw that, and went "Yeah, now's fine."
Anyway, until next time!
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