District One Female- Jewel Blanche

Tw: Child abuse (verbal and physical)

Jewel had a soft spot for children's bedtime stories. She liked all books really, from the serious memoirs of Victors to wacky fantasy stories. From the frankly ridiculous Capitol loving tracts to the more subversive works that could only be found on the black market. Anything that could take her to another place, let her be another person, she'd devour.

But when she was feeling lost or sad, she always went back to fairy tales. Her favorite was Cinderella. The story of the young girl growing up dismissed and hated, only to find more love and acceptance than she could imagine in one night, thanks to a little magic and a fairy godmother.

Jewel had wanted to be like that. Brave, beautiful,skilled, kind and loved. First as tribute and then Victor.

Of course, real life wasn't a kid's story, and Jewel wasn't Cinderella. She wasn't a servant, she had servants, mostly nannies to keep her out of the way. In real life, her stepmother was kinder than the man who she called Father, and the wicked stepsister (or annoying rival, in this case) got sent to the Games. Meanwhile, the only Games Jewel would be involved in now were her Father's political games.

Her father, who would spend hours berating her for dropping a dish, then ignored her existence for weeks.

Her father, who had her locked in the nearly empty guest rooms for days when she disobeyed him as a child.

Her father, who bought her uncomfortable outfits, then when she put them on, called her an "ugly whore" for wearing them.

Her father, who her stepmother insisted really did love Jewel, he just had a hard time expressing it.

Not that Jewel could entirely hold her ignorance against her. The man was very big on keeping up appearances, even with his wife. Compared to the Mayor, Jewel's word was nothing.

And the worst part was, Jewel wasn't sure she saw a way out. The Games or the Peacekeepers were her tickets away from him, but she'd failed at both. Her father wouldn't tolerate her getting a job away from his control. She was only allowed to be the Mayor's daughter, at least until she could be married off. Even then, she wouldn't escape him as long as he was in power.

The truth was, she wasn't Cinderella, and life wasn't a fairy tale.

And she had a party to attend.

One thing Jewel had never understood about Cinderella was why she was so eager to attend a freaking ball. Parties were awful. Large groups milling around the room, pretending to care about the people around them while tearing apart the ones who weren't. Jewel's preferred method of dealing with events was grabbing something and standing in a corner with a fake smile plastered on her face, playing the good daughter and hoping desperately no one would talk to her. Games parties were usually good for Jewel, since she could hover by the TV and pretend to be absorbed in the Games. But not now.

Because now, Glimmer Frost filled the screen.

After several weeks in the arena, Glimmer didn't look quite as lovely as she did in the Capitol. Blood stains spread over her clothes and dirt was caked under her nails. That long golden hair of hers was tied back in a more practical ponytail, but that wasn't enough to hide how tangled it was, or the leaves and twigs stuck in it.

Glimmer, along with the other three in the pack, was looking for the last outlier tribute. The boy from Eleven had been seen as a threat from the start, and with two pack kills to his name now, he'd proven they were right. Personally, Jewel would have recommended not splitting up to look for him, given his kills happened because they were spread out, but she wasn't in these games. Glimmer was. The trainers had looked between the two of them, and decided Glimmer was their best chance at bringing home a Victor. Glimmer.

Throughout the years at the Academy, Jewel had worked and endured Glimmer's boasts over her beauty and pedigree, promising herself that it would all be worth it when she was declared Tribute. But she'd failed.

"I voted for you, you know."

Internally, Jewel started at the sudden address. She turned and saw Ms. Chapman, Head Trainer at the Academy. It was always weird seeing the trainers out of their work clothes, in her home. Training and home were always separate things, and seeing the tall, fit woman in a cinnamon gown covered in sequins felt unnerving. Still, she'd had manners drilled into her from a young age, so she was able to cover her emotions with a cool smile. "Pardon me?"

"As tribute. A lot of us did. Glimmer has a lot of advantages, but I never felt she wanted it like you."

Jewel felt a familiar anger and embarrassment bubbling up inside. Ms. Chapman wasn't the only one to offer those empty words, like any of it mattered. And what was she supposed to say to any of that? Thank you? Its okay? I'm sorry for not being enough? Jewel murmured an acknowledgment, and waited for Ms Chapman to move on to gushing over Glimmer like everyone else did.

But she didn't. Instead, Ms. Chapman continued." I thought for awhile you were our girl. But then your father stepped in-"

Wait-

"And well, when the mayor says he doesn't want his daughter in the Games, you listen."

Burning anger turned to ice. "What?"

Ms. Chapman had almost been talking to herself at this point, watching the screen distantly, but at Jewel's exclamation, turned back to her in surprise. "Didn't he tell you? I mean, he said he'd been trying to convince you not to volunteer-" He'd done no such thing. "And that he tried to understand, but he couldn't bear to see you go into the arena."

None of this made sense. Jewel and her father never talked about her training, because that would require talking to each other. But that didn't mean he'd interfere in her being selected. He was the one who enrolled her in the Academy, for Snow's sake! Having a tribute in the family was an honor, and Victor more so. She always thought that he welcomed the day where she would leave for either a glorious victory or an honorable death. Either way, they wouldn't have to deal with each other anymore.

But Ms. Chapman continued blathering on, even as the shot returned to Glimmer stalking through the tall grass.

"It's funny how different families can be about the games. Russo pushing to keep you out, while I had the entire Frost family pushing Glimmer forwards. Wanting a second Victor in the family, you know."

Jewel wouldn't exactly say she expected her father to support her. But she hadn't thought he'd go to such lengths to sabotage her either.

"There you are!" Glimmer's voice was shrill, and wild. Nothing like the practiced vocalization from home. The same could be said for her form, as she charged the patch where she must have figured Eleven was hiding. She cackled as she ran, seemingly lost at the thrill of getting the biggest kill in the Games so far.

Then, she fell. The camera cut to the ground, showing a mutt hole Glimmer had failed to see during her charge, and the blood running down her ankle as she struggled to remove it.

Glimmer wasn't giving up, at least. Her sword had fallen out of reach, but Jewel could see her fumbling at her waist. She managed to retrieve a pair of handaxes. Not her favored weapon, but Glimmer had always bragged about being able to work with any weapon at any range. The delicate multi-tool to Jewel's hammer.

As the boy slowly approached, Glimmer managed to get herself into a sitting position. Jewel saw her breathe in and out, like she had done a thousand times at practice.

(Why couldn't Jewel breathe now? It wasn't like she cared what happened to Glimmer)

Then, so swiftly the cameras had trouble capturing it, she threw.

Maybe the pain in her ankle was distracting Glimmer. Maybe she'd also injured her shoulder when she fell. Maybe it was just a bad throw. But the ax went wide, barely nicking the boy in the arm.

He winced at the cut, glancing down at the blood dripping from his arm. Then back to Glimmer.

Before they could blink, he grabbed her.

Glimmer tried to struggle in his arms, but he was having none of tried to swing her remaining ax, but he batted it away like it was nothing. Then his hands were around her throat and he was squeezing….

Boom!

It was done. Glimmer-no, Glimmer's body-fell to the ground in a heap.

Jewel had gone to visit Glimmer at goodbyes. She didn't even know what she wanted from her long-term rival, Just… something.

Jealous, Blanche?

Why would I be? You're gonna die horribly, and I'm gonna laugh.

Jewel thought she meant it at the time. But looking at Glimmer's purple face, the bruises around her neck, Jewel didn't feel much like laughing.

No. She felt something different. Rage.

Distantly, the air was still full of sound. The interminable chatter of the party, the fake cries of disappointment and sadness at Glimmer's death. Speculation on the parts of the announcers when Eleven laid out Glimmer's body and closed her eyes. They thought it was some kind of message to the other Careers. Like it didn't really matter that someone they knew was gone.

Jewel completely clammed up. She stayed right at the TV, didn't look at anyone, and responded to attempts to socialize with grunts. Social etiquette didn't matter right now.

Finally, the guests were gone. The house was empty, and her stepmother was busy upstairs changing. She knew he'd come for her then.

"So, you want to explain what the fuck that was about ignoring everyone, girl? I don't bring you to these parties to look pretty. Trust me."

He was behind her. His hand clamped down on her shoulder. He was close enough she could feel his breath and smell the fine brandy he'd been consuming for the last few hours. Jewel still didn't turn around. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

He didn't like that. His hand twisted her around with such force, Jewel was flung to the ground. She was reflexively able to roll, but still banged her arm against the crystal coffee table.

Odd. Most of the time, the mayor acted like physical force was beneath him. She could only remember a few times he'd actually laid hands on her. He must be really angry.

Not that it mattered. Jewel would bet right now she was angrier than he could ever be.

"Did you interfere with the Peacekeepers the same way you did at the Academy?" she growled. Jewel fought to keep her voice even. She kept her eyes trained on the ground, focused on his voice.

"What're you on about now?" He slurred. He really didn't know. It mattered so little to him.

This time she did look up. He was a massive man, broad and barrel chested, filling up every room with his sheer size and presence. His golden hair was starting to come out of its perfect coiffe, and his cold blue eyes were as trained on her as they could be in this condition.

His size was just one thing he used to browbeat people. There were also his words, his money, his status, his connections. No one picked a fight with Russo Blanche and won.

But Jewel was past the point of caring. "Funny. Ms. Chapman said you'd begged them to not let me enter the Games. Said it was for my own safety." She added with an ironic simper.

His eyebrows furrowed at that, no doubt fumbling through the haze of booze. Then, to Jewel's fury, he snickered. Snickered. "You actually thought I'd let you go to the Capitol to represent us. Represent me!?"

"They were the ones who picked me," Jewel muttered, moving to get to her feet. Then louder. "They picked me!" She was shouting now. "THEY FUCKING PICKED ME!"

It was all coming down at once. She'd tried to be good. Did everything she could to impress people, hoping it would be enough. That she'd be enough. First with her father, then with the instructors at the Academy. She'd spent months thinking she'd failed, that if she'd just been better, she would have been picked as Tribute. Be someone other than the mayor's disappointment of a daughter.

But she had proven herself. And it didn't mean a goddamn thing. She was still here in his house, under his control. And Glimmer was still dead.

Even standing up, she was still dwarfed by him. But for the first time, she didn't feel small.

Not that he knew. He was still looking over her with the same levels of disdain. "If anything, I did you a favor. You'd've been dead within a few days. Who'd've wanted to support you?"

That did pierce through Jewel a little. No one would support her. No one ever had. Even the ones who made some effort, like Ms. Chapman or her stepmother were never there when she needed them.

"I still earned it. It was my-"

"You earned shit!" This time he was shouting, spittle flying from his mouth. " You are mine, and I decide what happens with you! You will listen and-"

"Oh, fuck off."

With that, Jewel left for her room. Inside her heart was pounding. It wasn't the first time she'd sworn at him. She knew he'd make her pay. Confine her, browbeat her, tear her down until she agreed.

So, she had to be ready.

Jewel wasn't Cinderella, and there was no Fairy Godmother coming. If she wanted to escape her father's clutches, she'd have to do it herself.

She still wasn't sure if she could. But she did have one weapon. One she'd never dared to use, that could ruin her as easily as him.

The truth was, Jewel wasn't her father's daughter. And it might be time for the world to learn that.

District Eleven Female-Lira Ambrose

There was an art to filching peaches in District Eleven, Lira knew.

First, there was the right clothes (and the right undergarments). Then, you needed the right Peacekeepers on duty; the lazy ones who waved you through half the time without even making you show your empty hands. And the actual technique needed to be perfect. The head on a swivel and the quickest wrist movement. Then, you have your prize: a single perfect, juicy peach.

Lira's family always tutted when they saw her taking such a huge risk. But as far as Lira was concerned, it was her back on the line, not theirs, and she could choose to risk it however she wanted. She knew what a whipping was like, but she wasn't going to live in fear when she could thrive under their noses.

Plus, like her brother George said, there were some days only the sweetness of a peach could make palatable.

Like Mandatory Viewing.

The peach orchards were located on the fringes of the District, away from the more generalized crops and packaging factories. On a clear day, you could see the wall on the edge of the District, reminding them there was no escape. Here, the pickers and their families would be herded into the fields for Mandatory viewing. Each year, the screens were set up with generators powering them, and then packed away until the next year.

When Lira was little, she used to come to the fields in the off season to read. She didn't do that anymore, but it was with a sense of nostalgia that she packed her bag and headed to the fields. Not enough to cut through the dread, though. Mandatory Viewing meant someone was going to die.

And this year, District Eleven had a chance.

As Lira made her way through the crowds, she was surrounded by the chatter of her fellow workers.

"We have a shot-"

"Three kills against those Careers-"

"Top four's the best we've had in ages-"

"Best we've seen since Callum, maybe even Chaff-"

"Looks like it's going to be a bad harvest, parcels could-"

Lira tried to block out the noise, unsuccessfully. Everyone was getting her hopes up, but that just made it harder when they lost. Same as when the girl, Rue, successfully evaded the Careers for days. The Capitol eventually lost interest in her, and drained all the water sources in the Arena. None of the hope, support or sponsorships mattered in the face of a bored Capitol. So Lira tried to keep herself detached from it all.

Tried. She couldn't quite keep the tremble from her hands as she reached the field. It was so close…

Focus. Lira shook her head and looked around for her friend Maddy, and saw her, as always, on the edge of the crowd. She carefully moved through the crowd to her and sat next to her with a plop. Nothing was happening at the moment, at least, just the inane Capitol recap of what everyone already knew.

"Really, Lira?" Maddy asked incredulously, as Lira began to unpack. "First, the peaches, then reading during Mandatory Viewing? Are you trying to get another whipping?"

Lira had barely even opened her book. She chuckled humorlessly. "The Peacekeepers are too busy worrying about quelling a riot when Thresh loses to worry about one girl not engrossed in the Games."

Maddy's frown deepened. "You mean if he loses."

Right. Lira nodded, trying to ignore the twisting in her stomach. Even if District Eleven hadn't had a victor since she was a baby, Thresh still wasn't dead.

As long as he's alive, there's a chance.

Lira could grow to hate that saying.

She shook her head and snapped her book open. The words slowly came into focus, and the hubbub of the crowd and her own painful thoughts faded away.

The book itself was an old favorite of hers. The peach orchards didn't have any libraries nearby, so people who wanted to read were stuck with the third or fourth hand books that the schoolhouse had collected over the years. Lira and Maddy had bonded over the old, musty pages of forgotten stories no one but them wanted. This one was an old Capitol romance, about an aspiring fashion designer falling in love with her hated rival. Simple, but Lira loved the funny cast, and the story of two people coming together and falling in love. Romance was one of the few things the Districts and the Capitol could both relate to, and Lira secretly dreamed of having her own whirlwind romance.

It was her comfort story, and right now Lira needed comfort.

She opened it randomly in the middle, but Lira knew the story well enough to immediately pick it up from there. The heroine had been excited to show her work in a prestigious Capitol fashion show, only to learn that she was assigned to work with her wild and messy coworker who in return called her uptight and boring. Lira lost herself in the banter between the two of them, and their obliviously cheery boss.

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Maddy shifted closer, but Lira forced her eyes to stay glued on her book.

The Hunger Games were a punishment for the Districts. Not just for the ones who were taken, but those who were left behind. Forcing them to watch as their loved ones died horribly. Afterwards, some people would discuss the deaths for weeks, picking their bones after they were already gone.

This time, Lira had the freedom to choose, and she would not gape at the tragedy unfolding.

For it was going to be a tragedy. Thresh was good. He was strong. But there were three Careers left, and only one of him. Lira saw that morning they finally figured out they needed to stick together to have a chance against Thresh, and were moving through the fields in a group. And the Capitol still loved their pets from 1, 2, and 4 too much to let them fall now. Especially a massive boy from Eleven who had defied their wishes and avoided combat every step of the way. Three kills, but each being one of the pets, and only in defense of himself or others.

Lira respected Thresh. But respect didn't win the Games when the Careers and the Gamemakers were against them.

The crowd was getting louder. She could hear the shouts of the Capitol pets, taunting Thresh and crying out in pain. Not Thresh, he rarely responded to their taunts, which only seemed to make them madder. Don't look, looking won't change anything, Lira reminded herself, biting into her peach. The juice dribbled down her chin, as she tried to focus on the harmless hijinks of the Capitol. It'll be over soon, one way or another.

Then, a cannon.

The crowd around Lira froze for a moment, then exploded. Rage that had been simmering for a while. Since Rue's death, since the Reaping, since long before these Games even started, burst in a torrent of shouting, screaming and shoving. Lira felt a sharp upward tug on her arm. "We need to get out of here."

Right. Lira stumbled to her feet, shoving the book into her bag as she moved. Distantly, she felt the book tear as she did so, and inwardly winced. But there wasn't really time to do so, with the people around her getting angrier by the second. They were almost to the edges, where they'd be able to escape while the Peacekeeper's focused on calming the crowd.

Then, she made the mistake of looking up.

It wasn't Thresh on screen at the moment, it was his killer. The girl from Four. Lira hadn't been expecting that; the girl had always faded into the background of the Pack. But now she was front and center, screaming in triumph as the wind whipped her hair around her. Lira felt sick at the display.

Then the shot changed focus. It moved over to the boy from Two. He'd spent most of the Games spitting angry and violent. He always seemed on the verge of a killing spree. But now he was almost deathly still, his blue-grey eyes cold and blank.

Lira knew what he was going to do a second before it happened and screamed. The girl took no notice, still glorying in her kill as the boy moved.

He speared her right in the back.

And Lira was gone.

Not back to another place, but another time. The same place seven years ago.

The arena on the screen wasn't a field, but a swamp. Dark, dreary, and crawling with mutts. The Pack had splintered early that year, certain in their strength after years of Career dominance. The arena said differently, as they fell to poison and mutts same as the outliers. Only two had made it to the final eight, and the commentators said it was anyone's game.

Only one tribute mattered to Lira, though. They kept calling him Eleven, or 11M like he was just some meaningless extra. But to Lira, he was just George. Her big brother.

George was warmth and light and song. He'd sneak peaches to her after dinner and tell crazy stories that made Lira laugh from the sheer ridiculousness of them, all while insisting they were as real as the nose on her face.

The public loved him. The Capitol adored him. The sponsors showered him with gifts.

But none of it mattered when his ally, the girl from Nine, damn near sliced him in half from behind.

Thresh was nothing like George, the girl from Four even less. But every year, no matter what Lira did, it felt like she was losing George all over again. She couldn't stay with her family during the Games, couldn't watch the Games, couldn't do anything

And despite what George told her when he said goodbye, there were some things peaches couldn't fix.

A/N: thank you to AstralKnight98 for Jewel and Tales From the Cluttered Desk for Lira