LEGENDS ▹ the hunger games au

𝐱𝐢

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇

DAYS IN THE ARENA :
0

SIXTY SECONDS.

The countdown started instantly.

Twenty—four of their children stood upon pedestals, circled around a Cornucopia, waiting for the gong to go off, waiting for the bloodbath to start.

Who would be the first to fall?

Who would be the first to kill?

This moment, here and now, it was always the worst part. The moment of truth. The swell of anticipation. But ninety—nine years worth of Hunger Games could not at all compare to this day.

Now, it wasn't just mentors standing here but parents.

Parents that had gathered together to see whose child would kill whose.

All of the mentors were in a wide circular viewing room with small theaters designated for each district. Plush velvet couches and liquor carts filled the empty spaces, twinkling crystal chandeliers illuminating everything from the high ceiling. Even if Katniss couldn't imagine anyone eating at a time like this, a curved table overflowing with roasted pig and blood red wine stood at its center. The room was designed to be comfortable, made to provide leisure while children murdered each other before their very eyes.

Bread and circuses.

Two Peacekeepers guarded the door, and no one could be sure if it was to keep others out or the parents in.

Knees bouncing. Palms sweating. Sinners prayed. Saints wept. Some parents were unable to keep still like Beetee Latier while others sat with their faces in their hands like Finnick Odair. More than a few were clearly intoxicated and even those who were entirely sober found themselves losing whatever still remained in their stomachs.

But no one could tear their eyes from the screens.

FIFTY SECONDS.

The moment the tributes emerged from the black earth, every parent straightened and the air seemed to be sucked from the room.

Rye and Willow were on opposite sides of the wide silver Cornucopia, which wasn't at all unintentional on the Gamemakers' part. They had been placed as far apart as they could, out of each other's sight, out of each other's protection. Rye had been placed between the girl tribute from Four and the man from Nine while on either side of Will was the boy from Two and the little boy from Six.

Katniss relentlessly studied her children, searching for some sign of fear, or hurt, or pain.

Rye, strong—minded angry Rye, who never knew how to take 'no' as an answer, who had a temper as much as his shy spirit. He looked so much older than Katniss remembered, taller and stronger. He kept repositioning his feet on the plate, jaw decidedly tense and grey eyes darting in every direction he could to find his little sister. And when he came up empty, Rye refused to look anywhere but forward.

Straight at the Cornucopia.

And Will, soft little Will, who couldn't stomach the slaughter of a goat much less a human life, who laughed to mask the truth of crying. Two dark braids hung down her back and she was visibly trying not to shake, blinking big eyes and fisting her hands at her sides. The boy from Two was smirking at the much smaller girl, taunting her as if she was already priority number one. Her daughter was doing her best to avoid his piercing gaze.