History is written by the victors, so Nastasia Caso became one.
She was 16 when she won the 68th hunger games. It had come as no surprise to the young girl. She was the career from district 2 with words that tangled knots around the throats of tribu...
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District two had never had a place for failures. That had been most apparent in Nastasia's youth.
Unlike the rest of the districts, the children of two were trained for the hunger games from the age of ten. It was the mentality that came with being the military force of Capitol, and it was why they were the best. Over a third of victors were from two and only district one was of any competition, down to their money they threw at anything that moved.
Children didn't usually make it that far though. If you didn't make the cut you would be sent off as peacekeepers or to work as weaponry manufacturers, not a luxurious job but a steady pension and reliable pickings. Those who graduated become military commanders and generals in the army base which would set them up for life. And the best, they had the chance to become victors of the hunger games.
If you didn't die in the process of course.
So by the time Nastasia was 12 she could have killed a man without hesitation. She'd learnt to throw knives so deadly she could split beams straight down the grain. Then her trainer broke her fingers so she mastered both hands. One of the finest knife throwers her academy had ever seen, so she'd been told. That had reaped her a place in the 68th hunger games.
The real trick to winning though, Nastasia realised when she began to study old tapes of past games, was charm. The more beautiful you were, the more charismatic, the more they loved you. And oh, how she would be adored.
Nastasia knew very well that she couldn't have opted out even if she wanted to. For many there was as little choice as in the poorer districts. Had she chosen not to enter the lot her family would have disowned her, thrown her onto the streets and left her to starve. They bred fighters not lovers, and she would either earn approval or be brushed under a rug if she died in the arena. Besides Nastasia had wanted to, she'd always had a thirst for power.
So she'd played the games and she'd played them all, like a snake in a nest of mice. Toying and winning the capitol over with smirks, and side-eyes as she lied and betrayed her way to the top.
The rest of her story? Now that wasn't as clear of a history.
Brutus, Nastasia's old mentor from district two, darted across her holoscreen before she swiped it onto the next page with a roll of her eyes.
The victory tour that had been parading Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark for the past six weeks was coming to its penultimate show in the capitol tonight and all the past victors were expected to attend. The victors of any worth anyway, President Snow probably had little care for morphings and cripples.
Brutus was to be her escort, an arrangement that had worked well for the both of them for the past few years. He was older and married, not necessarily the end of advances usually, but for once he was one of the few men who wouldn't try to lure her into his bed. Meanwhile, she was young, beautiful and a boost to his popularity with the Capitol.
