Chapter Text
Bellamy's P.O.V
I woke to the knocking of an attendant on my door just as the sun was sinking beyond the horizon. Thanking him, I walked towards the ornate dresser and picked out a plain shirt and pants before going into the bathroom and cleaning myself up.
I didn't want to go back out to speak with Johanna, Fabian, and Nexia, but I didn't really have a choice. I needed to know what was going to happen next, what our plan was, and who we were going up against.
I walked back into the dining room where Clarke was sitting talking to Nexia, about to have dinner.
"… went down to see her one night when her mother was sick, and we've been friends ever since," Clarke said, staring down at the tablecloth.
I sat down next to her, patting her shoulder. We were like family. Clarke was the one to help Octavia through several issues that I just couldn't understand. Octavia was always bringing her around for supper, even though we could barely afford to feed ourselves. Several times Octavia came up to me and asked me to scare some boys away from Clarke, because she was simply too stubborn to ask me herself. There was no way some slimy teenager would look at her or Octavia twice after Wells Jaha ended up with a limp, two missing teeth, and a black eye.
Another silent attendant walked up to me, offering a tureen of some kind of thick, vegetable and meat stew. I took a generous helping. I could probably count the number of full meals I was guaranteed to have over the next week, I wanted to make them count.
Johanna walked into the room, grabbed a roll and sat on a couch at the far end of the room. She picked up a remote and turned on the large television screen in front of her.
"Why don't you two bring your plates over here and we can see who you're competing against," she called to Clarke and I, without turning her head.
We complied silently, moving to the sofa, much to the displeasure of Nexia.
We watched the recap of the different Reapings that happened across the districts. There were the usual scuffles from those from The Career Districts, but that was no surprise. They treated the Games as if they were some kind of rite of passage, instead of the dehumanization and slaughter of children that it really was.
I watched as the Tributes were chosen, making mental notes about those who looked like they might pose a threat to me or Clarke.
The male Tribute from Two was a hulking figure. It was obvious he had ignored rule of not training Tributes before they were chosen. Looking at the muscles that he seemed to flex at every given opportunity, it wasn't hard to assume that he might be able to snap a neck with his hands.
There were not many else to note, a sharp-eyed, dark skinned girl from Three. Keep an eye on her, a small voice whispers in my mind. Then the Reaping of Seven is shown. I watch as Octavia throws her arms around Clarke, then she charges to me as my name is called.
I watch as Clarke hugs me while we were up on stage then the screen cuts to the commentators, who remark upon us.
"I wonder what their relationship is," said Caesar Flickerman. "They are obviously close friends. It will certainly be interesting to see how this plays out."
"Good," said Fabian. "They are setting the relationship up for us."
Clarke meets my eyes across the room. She smiles and looks back to the television, but my eyes slide to Johanna, who is sitting next to Clarke, watching with curious eyes.
We continue to watch as the other Tributes were reaped. I ran a tally of the ones to watch for. A shifty eyed boy was called forward from Nine. He's either an enemy to keep close or one to keep away. A limp boy from Ten, a hulking boy and a twelve year old from Eleven.
There was little drama as most of the other tributes were reaped. When they came to District Twelve, however, we watched as a girl with dark hair braided back jumped in front of a tiny blonde girl, volunteering to take her place. She was screaming in desperation as she pushed the smaller girl behind her, allowing a tall boy to pull the smaller girl away as she walked up to the stage. Then in a moment of silence the entire District saluted the girl, Katniss Everdeen, as she looked on from the stage. Then the mentor from Twelve, a drunk blond man, shouted accusations at the cameras before taking a dive off the stage into the front row of Peacekeepers.
Johanna groaned. "When will they learn that Haymitch should never be up on stage? He never stays sober enough to do anything more than embarrass himself and someone else."
The boy from Twelve was reaped and the commentators gave their final remarks before signing off.
So that was our competition. A couple of boys as large as I was but with a considerable amount more muscle than me, more of them smaller. A few to watch, and a few to befriend temporarily. Almost all of the boys and some of the girls were larger than Clarke. I would have to keep an eye out for her as much as I could.
I desperately hoped there would be trees in the arena. They would offer food, shade, and, in a pinch, an escape from other Tributes.
"Well," said Nexia, stirring an olive into her drink. "These Games are shaping up to be quite interesting, in my opinion."
"So now that you've seen the other Tributes, what is the plan?" asked Clarke, speaking up for the first time in an hour.
Fabian poured himself another generous helping of scotch. "Well, for one thing, Princess, you're going to have to put on some weight," he said looking down at her barely touched food. "There's no telling when your first meal will be once you're in the arena, and you might as well give yourself a little something extra to go on."
I rolled my eyes as I passed a tureen of stew to Clarke. She had never eaten enough, even when her family was able to afford full meals each day. She would always slip away to sneak food to Octavia and myself. She would bring food every time she came for dinner three times a week and never taking much for herself.
"Another thing, you need to decide if you want us to mentor you together or separately," Johanna cut in.
I met Clarke's eyes. We'd known each other for the past two years. I'd watched her heal people alongside her mother. I'd taken her out into the forest with me so she could look for some herbs her mother needed. I knew her strengths and weaknesses, and I knew she knew mine. I intended to get one of us across that finish line, one of us home. I would make it the easiest situation I could before I split off from Clarke. I didn't want it to come down to the two of us. I didn't know what I would do if something like that happened. I didn't want to think of that now. I saw a flicker of understanding in Clarke's eyes.
"Together," she said, looking back at Johanna.
Johanna nodded, eyes darting between the two of us with a look that I could only describe as suspicious.
"That's settled then," said Nexia, clapping her gloved hands together. "Now you both better get ready for when we arrive, which should be early tomorrow morning."
"Oh," Johanna exclaimed. "One more thing. There are going to be prep teams for each of you, they are there to make you camera ready, according to Capitol standards. It's going to be annoying for you," she said pointing at me. "And a little painful for you," she said to Clarke.
Clarke's eyes narrowed. "Why?" she asked, her voice full of trepidation.
"Because standards of feminine beauty in the Capitol are weird," Johanna said, rolling her eyes. "You're going to be stripped of just about every hair on your body apart from your hair and eyebrows. And it doesn't come off painlessly."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"I said they were weird," Johanna smiled with her signature dry humor. "And for some reason I have to go through it, too. Ugh."
At least they weren't going to surgically alter us. I thought, thinking of some of the stylists I'd seen in previous Hunger Games. Some of them were altered to look like animals, some with bits of metal shoved through noses, eyebrows, lips, and other places.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nexia grumbling. I studied her face for a moment, wondering what it would be like to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth; never having to face the threat of the Games or going without dinner. Where the biggest threat to your happiness was having hair on your legs. What strange lives do these Capitol residents live, with their ever changing fashion trends, surgical manipulations, high tech gadgets, and fascination with the murder of children every year. It was almost as if they came from another planet.
Fabian let out a large burp as he finished his scotch. "Well I'm off to bed. We'll talk more in the morning." Waving slightly, he left the room.
I looked over to Clarke, noting the weary look in her eyes. It had been a long day, and my little cat nap earlier hadn't relaxed me in the slightest.
I excused myself a few minutes later hoping that tomorrow might not be such a bad day.