Curses

by TimTimTahay

Summary:

They said winning the Hunger Games meant freedom. Freedom from it all. But that wasn't true. It meant a lifetime of pain, of being bought out, of having to mentor others to their death. But, when Treech sees his newest tribute for the 49th games, just for once he has a little bit of hope.

AU where (some of) the tributes from the 10th games are victors from other games and every year they get together.

Chapter 1: There is Fire in my Brain and I'm Burning up

Notes:

Chapter Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
Work Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
Updates weekly on a Friday!
I hope you enjoy ❤️

Ringing. Screeching. Calling. Yelling. The noise flooded Lamina’s ears as sound after sound pushed itself into her mind. Wind blew against her body and howled in her face. She could feel blood, still warm, coating her hands and dripping down her cheeks. She could feel a sting, a sharp constant sting, hovering just under her right shoulder. She opened her eyes - that she hadn't even noticed closing - to look down at the knife that was lodged in her arm, the knife she thought she’d been able to dodge. No blood was coming out, the weapon seemed to plug it’s own wound, but the pain was certainly present. It hurt more than anything Lamina had ever felt in her entire life, yet it still felt like nothing at the same time. Concerning, she thought for a moment. Not being able to feel her lower arm felt concerning, but as pain and noise took over her mind any rational thought faded away.

She’d won, that was for sure. That meant she had upwards of 10 minutes before the Capitol came and dragged her away. 10 minutes of the sound, of the agony, of the air that was still hot and the unforgiving desert that seemed to stretch around her. Nothing was in the distance except the few cacti dotted around. The only thing close to her was the golden Cornucopia and the battered body of Flick - the District 1 boy.

Her games had been cruel, crueler than normal. The arena was hot and there was very little water. Most of the tributes had died of thirst and Lamina being from the district of lush greenery had not helped.
She wasn’t used to the burning sands and the ongoing winds. She was used to climbing trees, hanging amongst the leaves and shrubs of District 7. The flat landscape offered no cover and no shelter, but still, somehow, Lamina was alive.

She’d spent her time with Oaklan, the male tribute from her district, skirting the edges of the arena to avoid any other tributes. They’d lasted a while, avoiding those they wanted to avoid and picking off those that were weaker than themselves. And Lamina remembered each and every one of the 3 kills that she had assisted with. She remembered the fading screams of children younger than herself. She remembered the warm grip of a soft hand wrapped around her wrist and she remembered the blood that oozed, thick and slow out of wounds that she herself had inflicted. It was hard to remember, to think about what she had done, the only justification being that she was as desperate to live as everyone else.
She and Oaklan had lasted a good amount of time. She’d kept track of the cannons, and it had gotten to the final five when she’d almost started thinking about what was going to happen if they were the final 2. But, just as the hope of winning crossed her mind, another cannon blasted to the sky and as the mutated scorpions - addled and changed to be larger than a child - came to attack, Oaklan had not survived.

Lamina had run for the cornucopia, the only shelter in the vast expanse of the occasional tumbleweed and sand. She had run for a long time. Away from Oaklan, her only reminder of home. She ran until she couldn’t breathe and until she felt like she was about to pass out. And after what felt like hours, she’d made it back to the Cornucopia. Collapsing to the floor, tears already streaming down her face. Feeling, knowing, that if she died here, everything that was symbolic of home was miles away. She would die alone.
Oaklan had always felt like a friend. She was almost happy when they were reaped together, having him to hold her hand as she wept in front of everyone she knew was the only thing that kept her going in the games, and she hadn’t even the chance to say goodbye to his dead body, to pay any final respect to someone that she had called friend.
And so she curled in on herself, sobbing herself to sleep, ignoring all the rules of safety that had been drilled into her, to cry and cry until she couldn’t any longer.

Hours passed until the sun was almost setting and Lamina knew the games would end that day. The idea was in the air and echoed all around her. And just as she had stood up and brushed the sand off her clothes, adjusting her weapon behind her back, she had met Flick - the boy from 1 - Lamina hadn’t seen him the entire game but he wasn’t in good health. Cuts and bruises dotted his body, his backpack almost empty of food and water and sweat smeared across his perfect face. In his arms was his district-mate. Lamina had never learnt her name but she was even more poorly. A gaping wound tore open her chest and her skin was pale, too pale. Flick was crying, a lot, but as soon as he saw Lamina his tears quickly faded and his face contorted into anger.
She hadn’t heard what he said. It was just a yell, then in a flash, the girl was floor and Flick was holding her by the throat, lifting her up off the ground as she struggled for breath. And that moment felt like eternity, held above the solid floor, slowly choking. Days and days, weeks and years flashing before her eyes. Everything, a whole life lived led up to this moment. A cannon went off. She thought it was her own.

But then suddenly she was back. Her body was collapsing but it was collapsing to the floor. There was feeling. There were thoughts, there was air inside her lungs. Flick was gone in instant, huddled by the side of his teammate that he had sacrificed in an attempt to kill. His shaking hands softly brushed her face. It was touching, Lamina thought, even for a game as violent as this, there was still a moment for love to show. But, the moment passed as quickly as it came and the boy turned in an instant, hurling a knife towards Lamina that she barely had time to dodge. The boy marched closer - another sentence that she didn’t even hear - and suddenly everything seemed clear. Lamina took a breath. She reached behind her back, and with one quick move, Flick’s head rolled away from his body.
A cannon.
It wasn’t her own.
And all of a sudden the moment ended. The stinging began, the sounds started, her breath grew quicker and quicker as the calm of her eventual death wandered away slowly, but her heart wasn’t slow. It was quick, quicker than it had ever been in her entire life.
Because the sound was all too much and the smell was all too much and the warmth of the blood that had sprayed across her face and hands was all too much.

—————————————————

“Lamina, you don’t have to hold your breath”
She hadn’t even noticed she was, but as soon as he mentioned it, her lungs picked up again, breathing quicker and quicker. Everything was happening too fast, her vision was blurring and her arm still hurt. She could still feel something on her face, it was warm and smelt metallic and she reached up to feel it with her hands.
Hands. Hand. She couldn't feel both hands. Her left arm rested against her cheek, face but her right arm was not rising.
She felt his warm palm guide her left arm down.
“You’re safe now. I’m here.”
“I’m okay”, she muttered, but the words held no meaning.
“No, Lamina, you don’t have to be”, he smiled, slightly, but it was enough.
“Thankyou Treech”

Notes:

Okay Chapter 1! Yay! This chapter feels really short and kinda shit compared to the other ones i’ve written, so i’m hoping that as i go, longer chapters will come.
I really hope you’ve enjoyed what I’ve written and if you want to know anything or want to give any advice on writing pleaaaase leave a comment I would really appreciate it! (Don’t be harsh tho otherwise i’ll cry)
Next chapter will be out very soon, but I think after that it’ll be on a weekly basis.
If you got here, thanks for reading, I’ll see you later ❤️

Chapter 2: This House Don't Feel Like Home

Notes:

Chapter Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
Work Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
Updates weekly on a Friday!
I hope you enjoy ❤️

“Listen Lamina, I know this is hard, but we need to talk.”
His voice was quiet but it was determined. He sounded confident, not like the scared, confused little boy she had seen all those years ago.
“I promise you I understand more than anyone. This is the hardest time of your life. Okay, I’m not gonna sugarcoat this. You’ve won, okay - great, but your life moving forward makes these games look easy. So I’m going to talk you through this, okay, me being your mentor doesn’t end here.”
She nodded, tears were quickly making their way down her face as reality began to slowly set in, but she nodded either way.
“Okay, Lamina, I’m gonna tell you what it was like for me. When I won.”

———————————————

Treech had never expected to win. Not when he escaped the bloodbath with two kills already under his belt. Not when he made camp with shaking hands as he attempted to scrub any remaining blood off his hands. Not as the deer mutts descended on the forest and not as he sliced the final tribute's neck as they slept.
It was an anticlimactic ending, as far as endings go, but no one he had ever spoken to seemed to mind. They were always busy fussing over other things.
He’d spent his games alone, silently moving through the arena. Treech was fairly sure he had not uttered a single word once he had entered the arena. And, his games had ended in a similar fashion - silently.

So, as Treech was pulled from the arena and dragged into an interview, the music was overwhelming. It was louder than any sound that Treech had heard in days. In the roofed forest of his arena, all that could ever be heard was a slight rustle, or the sound of the birds. But the music was loud, so loud that his head hurt, that he wanted to run and hide.
He knew as he was struggling to bring words up, that the interview was going bad. But still, people seemed to liked him.
He remembered what the old man had said to him during his first interview, before the games.
“So, young fella, you’re gonna be a real heartbreaker in a few years! Capital loves a face like that. And a strong, district body too!”
The crowd had cheered but Treech only looked on in confusion.
He had been a young winner, at only age 14, but he hadn’t been the youngest. That title belonged to some girl from 4. And his games had been nothing special. In fact, Treech was entirely unremarkable, and the attention that was being foisted onto him was odd. Really odd. And, as Lucky Flickerman looked down on him, with a smile that looked a little too knowing, it occurred to Treech that Lucky always reserved the ‘heartbreaker card’ for a tribute that was 17 or 18. Someone they could hand around early after winning, not someone so young. Treech was so young. He was too young.

But the capitol still loved him. Even before the game had even begun, he was loved. Known. Wanted. As soon as he had made his way to the stage for his first interview, with his shivering body and his shaking hands, thousands of eyes all over the world had moved to look at him.
Him.
Everywhere he showed his face he found that he had supporters. People down on the street would hold signs, and his chariot ride found him showered with roses and other beautiful flowers. He was more popular than any tribute that the games had seen in a long time and everyone involved in his presentation played into that. They dressed him in delicate clothes that highlighted his features, and instructed him to fit into stereotypes that he had barely known existed.
“You’re stunning Treech, act like it.”
“You need to be the beautiful one.”
“Everyone wants you”
And everything he did the capitol loved more and more. A slight wink got a loud cheer. A wave got a roar of approval. A smile and a pose for every camera pointed in his direction. And as he entered his games it all culminated in sponsorship. The capitol people had been the cause of his famous axe - floating down from the sky the minute he was away from the hell that was the bloodbath. It was the most expensive sponsor gift in the history of the games. Bedazzled with gems - ridiculous for a tool that a young boy was expected to use for murder - and shiny in the light. It made him sick to admit it, but Treech had always thought that the axe was beautiful.

“Young man are you even listening to me?”
Lucky laughed along with the audience.
Treech looked up at him with the same big brown eyes that had captured capitol hearts. He smiled at Lucky, but the sound of the music was still screaming in his ears.
“Sorry, sir, what was the question?”
“Sir? Oh Treech, you make me feel old!” Lucky rested a hand on Treech’s leg. It felt uncomfortable, in a way, but he knew that any sign of discomfort would ruin the personality that his stylists had worked so hard to build. Lucky’s hand was cold, he could feel it through the thin fabric that barely covered his legs. The contact made Treech feel sick to his stomach, but he pushed the feeling down. It was because he hadn’t seen a real person in days, he assumed, it’s because I can’t remember what it’s like, he hoped.
“Anyway, what was I saying?” Lucky left a pause to allow the audience to yell out a little bit, holding a hand up to one ear.
“Ah yes! Treech, son, what are you going to do now that you’ve won?”
He didn’t have to think hard, the same question was asked every year and he had been prepared for this.
“I want to travel the country and help a lot of people. Now that I know the Capitol, I don’t have to be scared of anything. I’m going to meet a lot of new people and then I’m going to go back home to family and have a nice long rest”, it sounded nice, even if it wasn’t exactly what Treech would’ve said himself. If he could say anything he wanted he would’ve gone for, “I’m going to ignore everyone and everything forever and ever to try and forget what I’ve done to other kids. Then I’m going to donate a bunch of money away and pretend I don’t exist forever”.
But Treech couldn’t say that. The capitol wouldn’t like that. And so out came the words that he had been forced to practice for hours before the interview even occurred. The capitol viewers giggled with a childlike glee, as if they knew something he didn’t. Lucky laughed along with them as he rest his hand on Treech’s leg again.
“I’m sure you’ll meet all sorts of people.” and he laughed again. “Say, you’re 14 , yes? When did you say your birthday was?”

——————————————————

Treech had travelled the districts and it was nice. For a while. He helped around districts he has always dreamt of, and met with people that had always seemed so far away. He found the glowing light of District 2. The wires and cables of District 3 and the trees of District 11 that reminded him of home. And he had gone back to his home, eventually. To his two younger sisters, who while he was gone were left in the care of the district. They hadn’t expected him to come home after the reaping, he’d trained them so they knew what to do when he didn’t. To expect that he wouldn’t. But when he returned with food, a house and more money then they ever knew what to do with, everything finally seemed okay. It felt like maybe, just maybe, the hunger games were something he could forget about. And for a little 14 year old boy, everything felt calm.

Life was sweet, peaceful even. He learned to move past it all. The thin scar that ran down his arm felt like something he could ignore. His wonky nose that was never properly fixed after being broken felt natural. And yes, he had his days where all he could do was try to scrub the blood that he kept seeing on his body away, and days where he would wake up screaming because the noise in the night sounded a little too much like someone coming to kill him. But, everything felt like it could be okay.
He was young, and he had a whole life to live. Plus, the capitol loved young victors. They would stick around for longer and still stay cute enough to enjoy for years to come. The younger ones were always invited to things, and welcomed into social circles, and allowed to do as they please. Most victors that won before they turned 16 were guaranteed an actual life of freedom. Freedom from the games, from the capitol, from any proper mentoring duty because they were so young and there was always someone more experienced than them. Someone who could do it better. Treech was really looking forward to that freedom.

But it never came.

It first started in the games after his own. One morning, he was dragged from his home and shoved on a stage. Presented to the audience as ‘the mentor’. No other victor from district 7, if there had ever been one at all, was still alive to help him out. That meant that he, as an almost-15-year-old boy had to take every single girl and boy that went into the games under his wing and try to teach them how to survive. Show them how to do what he did. And he tried, he really tried. But for him, winning had felt effortless, with the Capitol following his every whim he had never wanted for anything in his games. The other kids were different. They were often scrawny and poorly built. Young as well, often younger than Treech himself. And every year he sent them into the games with as much hope as he could give them and every year not a single one survived.
It was hard, at first, watching kids that were even younger than him be mauled. Stabbed, choked, butchered. The kids that were older were harder. People that were older than him, putting their entire lives in the hand of a kid who barely knew what he was doing. People who were so close to the cutoff, only to be dragged to their death when life was just a reach away.
And everything was up to Treech. Cameras focused on him as district 7 tribute after district 7 tribute shone in the sky, cannons accompanying their brutal death. They searched his face for a reaction, but he gave the same every time. A grim nod and an apology to the sponsors that he had done everything to get on his side.

Not that it took much convincing. Normally the capitol reserved their so-called ‘special victors’ for ones that had already turned 18. Not now. Not for Treech. 16 was his cutoff. That was when it was suddenly okay for the president to ship him off around the country to whoever paid the most and let them do as they please.
When they told him what he was to do he didn’t understand. But as he was sent away for the first time, it all quickly began to make sense. As soon as he had got home he refused to go on any further, but as his youngest sister found a gun pointed in her face, it was a lot easier to start agreeing.
And so he moved forward as the light of the capitol. Published in the papers as the golden boy. The boy up for grabs.
He hated reading the news. Going through article after article about who he had just been with. Article after article of his current price.
He hated showing his face. Going out in public felt like a chore when every single person he used to know had inside information into every aspect of his private life.
The only times the people and the cameras would ever see his face were the few weeks a year when the games occurred. When he was pulled out from whatever corner of the country he was in to watch another child die.
“Run away - not towards - the cornucopia.”
“Make as many allies as you can.”
“Don’t do what I did.”
It was getting tiring, the same schedule day after day, week after week, month after month.

The only times when Treech ever felt calm is when he was sat alongside the only other people who knew what he was going through.
Lucy Grey was old, older than most other tributes still alive. Not much was public about her games, but Treech knew that it was before Snow was even the president. The 10th, he thought it was, but whenever anyone asked she would laugh the question away. She was a strange character, always ready with a song and a story. Her accent didn’t fit any district but she had made a home for herself in 12. She always said that she had blocked out her games, mostly, and that was the reason why she was one of the few tributes that actually settled down. Got married, started a family.
Treech understood it, in a way, that desire to have someone to care for you and to have someone to care for. But every time he thought about it for himself, it just felt like another meaningless relationship. Another person for the capitol to exploit. Another person to put a price on his head.
Lucy Grey won her game before the idea of selling tributes even crossed the mind of the capitol, she won where winning actually mean freedom. She was a good person in that way. She had a warm personality and always seemed to know what was wrong before you said it.

Coral was different. She had won recently, in the grand scheme of things. The 42nd games, two prior to his, and she was the youngest tribute to ever claim the title of victor. She was angry, fiery and full of rage, much opposed to the calm tranquility that the district 4 fishers normally radiated. She had left her games with 7 kills, more than most victors had witnessed, and she was young enough to escape what Treech went through. She was safe from the capitol.

And the list continued, people Treech knew and chose to spent time with. Jessup. Reaper. Heck even Tanner was sociable enough to hang around with. And although they all had been through a game, struggled after victory and made their way to where they were now, not one of them understood what it was like to be Treech.

—————————————————

“Lamina, no please don’t cry, it’s… okay. I promise it’s okay.”
That was counterproductive. Went against the entire point of the sob story.
Her tears kept flowing. “Okay I know I said the life of a victor is tough, and I know I just told you my whole life story, but this won’t happen to you okay.”
She sniffed, attempting to silence her tears as she looked at him. The tears had painted a pattern across the dirt that covered her beautiful face. Painting a portrait of sorrow and loss, and a tale of grief.
The capitol hadn’t cleaned her up yet. He didn’t let them. He didn’t want anyone to touch her. It took some arguing and some… creative persuasion, but Lamina was taken straight to Treech.
She was a sad sight to see. They would have to custom make a new arm, so she was left with a bandage covering a wound that had lost her an arm. Her hair was greasy and sandy and she was badly sunburned. Her skin was red and peeling under the layers of dirt, and scars that were still fresh danced across her arm and chest.
He leaned slightly towards her and held his hand out to her, inviting. Not forcing.
“I will do everything in my power to make sure that the peace that you were promised is everything that you will get.”
She nodded, slowly reaching out her own hand and took his. It was soft, despite the fact that she had been fighting for life just hours prior. And the touch he felt was warm. It was comfortable.
Nothing like the cold hand of Lucky Flickerman resting just a little too high on his thigh.

Notes:

And thus begins my tragic Treech arc (he gets NO peace)
Anyway, that is the end of chapter 2! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and stick around for updates.
But again, if you want to ask any questions or give any advice please leave a comment, it would be greatly appreciated.
The next chapter will be out probably next week! And again thankyou thankyou thankyou for reading
I hope you enjoyed, see you later ❤️

Chapter 3: All my Aching Bones are Trembling

Notes:

Chapter Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
Story Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
Updates weekly on a Fridat
I hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

Treech had it the worst. Coral knew that, the victors knew that, everyone knew that. The newspaper played his life out to be that of love, and joy for what the capitol was doing, but not a single person in the districts believed a word of it. Coral wanted to help. Tell someone, anyone, that this was not okay. Let the boy be. Take her instead. But she - along with everyone else - also knew that any form of trying to help would result in the torture and murder of her own loved ones.

Coral knew that it bothered Jessup and Lucy Grey the most. District 12 - in its own twisted way - was kind to its people, allowed for mistakes to just slip by and people to do as they please. But being a victor had pushed them in the way of the Capitol. Pushed them into the perfect viewing spot of the harm that the capitol had caused. And there they were - trapped - watching a young boy struggle through.

Jessup and Lucy Grey were old, older than most, and Coral had realised long ago that they knew more about the Capitol than everyone else combined. Lucy Grey had been around long enough for her Hunger Games to still take place in the old Capitol Arena, not that anyone knew any more than that information. Jessup fought in that arena too, but that was due to the so-called quarter quell. The 25th games in which every aspect was reverted back to how it was in the first games. No sponsors, no interviews and no help. “To remind the rebels that time heals no wounds.”

Coral thought it was cruel, unnecessarily cruel. A reminder to kids that they were being blamed, punished, for a war they couldn’t even remember. A war they hadn’t even been alive to see.
Coral hadn’t been alive to watch either game, but she’d seen the tapes of Jessup's, and she’d heard Lucy Grey’s riddled explanation as to what had happened in hers.

To Coral, her game had felt simple. She’d killed 4 in the bloodbath and everything else felt like a blur. She’d allied with every other career tribute, plus or minus a few others along the way. It ended as quickly as it had began.

She had never liked the boy from 2, Plinth. Every kill she had got he took credit for. Every idea she came up with he claimed as his own. He was pushy and abrasive and thought he was better than everyone else. But, his own ego had given Coral her chance.
There were 3 of them left. 2 as he cheered the death of the girl from 12. Cheered. He was happy about this. Her growing rage bubbled up, it grew and grew and her trident felt heavy in her hand. Her face twisted as she lifted the trident above her head and… she stabbed him in the back. Quite literally. It was a quick death. The noise of his success, then a gasp, then silence. As he fell to the floor, trident still sticking out of his back, Coral could see his face. Morphed into one of utter betrayal, and shock. Shock that the little girl from 4 that he had constantly undermined was finally doing something. But it wasn’t just ‘something’ that Coral was doing. Coral was winning.
A drop of blood gurgled from his mouth as his face, full of pain, faded to blank. She remembered that face. It reminded her all too well that if she had waited, maybe just a moment, then Plinth would be in her place. She’d be free from everything. But no. His paling face stared back at her. For just a moment before she was hurried and scurried right back to the capitol and lifted above the crowd as the youngest victor ever.

She was proud of it, in her own sick and twisted way. The capitol deserved a good victor and a good victor Coral would be. She had long since decided that Plinth was everything that was wrong with the world. What he had got was what he deserved. But still, the thought of his face felt heavy in her stomach.

Victory was always something that was held as an achievement. And her family treated it that way. Her aunt and uncle were proud - welcoming her home with open arms and wide smiles. Little Cousin Mizzen was so excited that she came home, asking a million different questions, saying he always knew that she would win and bragging to everyone he knew that,
“My Cousin Coral won the hunger games!”
It was cute.

Coral knew that she got lucky. Young winners were rare, but as soon as they won they were pretty much guaranteed their freedom. She was safe from Treech’s troubles because no one wanted to pay for a tribute that had won years ago. She’d mentioned it at a capitol party once,
“Took the fun out of it", was the answer she received.

It made her feel sick.
Fun drawn from buying away a young child’s life. Taking what should’ve been theirs forever.

Coral was thankful, deeply thankful for the hand that she had been dealt, but she hated that she couldn’t share the sentiment with everyone else. She knew that she was fortunate. Her home was a career district and there were always plenty of mentors to go around. Plenty of victors to keep focus away from her. Coral had never mentored a single person in her 7 years since victory. Never gotten attached, never had to work for sponsors and never had to watch the child she’d spent weeks with die alone.

Coral knew that there was no other circumstance quite like hers. A victor who truly had freedom. A victor who was safe from the grasp of the capitol. A victor who could only watch as other mentors struggled through the games each year.
But she’d still show up to watch. Sit with the only people she could call friends and watch as their hope faded as more and more children died in front of their eyes.
Children who couldn’t be as good as her. Would never see what victory gave. Never see how they could be treated.

She thought it might feel freeing, in a way. Death. Escape from the Capitol and every hand they dealt. Escape from what was promised to be freedom, from death, from fear, from everything. Escape from the twisted truth. It always felt good at first, coated with the Capitols lies before everything started to crumble.

When she’d first met Treech, he seemed whole. Joyful. Then the year of the 46th games - only 2 years since they had first met - suddenly he was different. Drained. Empty. He’d lost the charm that used to linger around him and his eyes no longer shone with that childlike innocence.
When she’d met with Lucy Grey and Jessup that year, they’d already been crying over the death of their tributes. The tributes they had to mentor every year, because there was no one else for the role. The tributes that never won. Never in the last 21 years of Jessup’s mentoring. Never in the last 36 of Lucy Grey’s. Not a single child won.

It made her feel sick, watching her friends crumble down in front of her. Sacrificing everything they lived for as to not sacrifice their own lives. But every year all she could do was exchange pleasantries, pat Lucy Grey on the back as she watched the district 12 girl die. Give Jessup a nod as the boy passed. Make quick conversation with Tanner and Reaper while glancing at Treech. He’d always speak with them, laugh and make jokes as if everything was okay. He was still the charming young boy that the Capitol had presented all those years ago.

Then as the games moved on, they’d say goodbyes, promise to call and then leave for back home.

They never stayed in contact. It brought up memories that were difficult enough to bury deep down and it was better for them to just forget the games entirely while they could.
Coral could read the papers and see what was happening anyway. A new concert from Lucy Grey, people saved by Jessup. Tanner’s thriving company and Reaper’s new charities. Treech had articles too. Coral always skipped them, because his sunken face captioned with a new price, a new ‘look’, always scared her. Because even as he grew further and further from the boy that the Capitol first loved, he became even more popular among the elite.

———————————————

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1”
A blare sounded.
“Harsh arena this year, eh?” Reaper said, gesturing to the arid desert that had been presented just minutes prior.
“Looks like water will be a struggle. I would’ve died instantly”, Coral responded, knowing that in an arena like this her victory would not have been so easy.

“Any bets on this years victor?” Tanner piped up from the corner. He had always been one to put money on the kids, even though the others refused every chance he put up. Coral never understood how he did it. Bet on kids destined to die. Kids that were no better than them not all that long ago. But Tanner never did have the purest intentions, and Coral knew her own ways of coping did not give her room to judge.

There was a pause in the conversation as everyone in the room seemed to ponder Tanner’s suggestion. Although they never bet, each victor had their own secret hopes and ideas of who would win.

Coral didn’t like the silence. All she could hear was the yelling of the bloodbath blasting from the screen. The crunch of a bone breaking and the soft gurgle of blood, draining from a tributes body. The sounds still felt all too real and whenever the silence fell all Coral could think about was the people that she herself had killed. The pain that she had caused and the lives that she had cut short. Coral couldn't really say she felt bad though - everything she had done was for her own life. What was a 12 year old to do in that circumstance?

But still her thoughts trailed and spiralled into the gore of her games, focusing in on the paling face of Plinth.

Treech broke the silence, bringing Coral back to the present,
“Both mine are good this year. Strong candidates.”
Coral searched the screen for the two district 7 tributes that he had mentioned. The boy was tall, strong. He already had an axe attached at his waist.
The girl, however, caught her eye. She was skinny with hair so red that it reminded Coral of her own. She too looked strong and was searching the cornucopia for any remaining bags and food.
Lucy Grey, however, was looking at the screen with tears already in her eyes. She mumbled something that Coral could barely make out as “She was only 13.”
Coral looked to the screen again as the body of the district 12 girl crumpled to the floor. She wanted to move and comfort Lucy Grey but Jessup already had an arm around her shoulders and was saying something in her ear.

The silence returned to the room and Coral tried not wince at the bloodcurdling screams from the girl of district 4. The girl from home. Coral didn't have to mentor her. She didn't know who she was and she didn't know where she was from, but it all felt too close to home.
She didn’t want to think of the games in that moment, but as the camera focused on the lifeless body that may as well have been her, she felt the sickness rise in her throat. The camera moved ever closer to the wounds of the girl, and she tore her view from the screen, eyes meeting directly with those of Tanner.
She never understood him, but he seemed to always know what needed to be done.

“1 and 2 are both strong this year, but I don’t think the career pack are really grouping up this year.”
And the noise of conversation started again. He gave her a quick nod and went back to what he was doing before - scribbling about outcomes and odds and what have you.
Coral agreed with what he said, Flick and Treble seemed like the stronger pair, but they had already encountered the duo from district 2 and went their separate ways.

The noise had settled into casual conversation and Coral glanced back at her friends, Lucy Grey and Jessup were murmuring something to each other, something Coral knew wasn’t for her to hear. Tanner was glancing at the screen and back to his paper every 10 seconds, making sure every note he could take was taken. Both his tributes had already died in the bloodbath, and he’d crossed out their names and faces on his paper. Coral searched his face for anything, but he appeared to be void of any visible emotion.

Reaper was picking at his hands, avoiding looking as the first set of cannons blasted into the sky but Treech was staring right at the screen, eyes following his pair around without blinking. Coral shuffled along the couch towards him, “What are their names?”
“Oaklan’s the boy and Lamina is the girl”, He didn’t look away from the screen.
“They look like a good pair”, it wasn’t needed, but there wasn’t much else that she felt she could say.
Treech pulled his gaze away from the screen. “I think she can win this one. I mean it this time. She really could” a small smile crept across his face as he switched his focus back to the screen.
Lamina. Coral would remember that.

Notes:

Omg Coral! She’s got some pretty killer backstory so I hope you enjoy all that. I love writing about all the little quirks that affects the tributes and I feel like sound is something that is never really mentioned. They go from trying to be as silent as possible for weeks in a desperate attempt to survive to suddenly being blasted with more noise than they’re used to even in everyday life. I think it’d be really jarring and ive linked a lot of the tributes to that idea - so i hope you like it because it is recurring.
This has a slightly deeper introduction into each of our victors.
We’re definitely going to see some more than others but other than that you have met all the victors that this story follows! Congrats.
As always, feel free to leave any questions, comments or constructive criticism and I will respond.
Thanks so much for reading this far
See you later ❤️❤️

Chapter 4: and I may yet fall apart

Notes:

Chapter Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
I hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

Every single night that the games ran on, Coral went to sleep before Treech and every single morning he was awake before her. As he yawned again and again, she was starting to think that he wasn’t sleeping.
Normally he savoured every minute of freedom from his usual schedule, sleeping the hours away. Often, she assumed, it was also an attempt to forget about what was happening on the screen in front of them.
But this time was different, he had one camera focused on his own tributes. The main screen followed the best action, as decided by the capitol, and his eyes would occasionally flick up to look at it. Never for long, though, before returning back to his own private screen.

“Want some breakfast? I’m making pancakes.” she called out to him as she made her way into the kitchen on the third morning.
He yawned again. “I’m good. Capitol doesn’t let me sweet things.”
The way he said it was so casual, yet Coral felt a tug at her heart. Looking away, avoiding any thoughts that came to mind, she gathered the ingredients she needed. Looking down at the eggs she moved to crack one into a bowl.

A cannon.

Coral stopped. Turning slowly to face the screen as she was met with the face of the boy from 6 - although she could barely tell. A harsh, bleeding wound separated his face in two, his mouth was agape and his jaw looked broken. His eyes were open, bloodshot, and his cheeks were swollen. Coral could feel her stomach sink. She hastily looked away but the face was stuck inside her mind. Pale. Shocked. She couldn’t close her eyes without his face appearing in her mind, taunting her brain, slowly morphing into that of Plinth.

She rapidly put the ingredients away and sat down on the couch, avoiding looking at the screen.

“What happened to your pancakes?” Treech asked. She turned to glance at him, surprised to find him actually looking away from the action. His charming smile turned to focus on her. He seemed unbothered by what had just happened to the young boy from 6, but Coral knew there was a high chance he just hadn’t seen it. Lamina and Oaklan weren’t nearby and there was no guarantee that Treech had chosen to look at the main screen at the right moment.

“Didn’t feel like it.” was an understatement. Coral knew that even looking at food right now would make her sick.
“Well you should eat something. Want me to make a smoothie?”
Treech smoothies were really good. Always the perfect mix, but Coral knew the texture and she knew it was thick. Like blood. Oozing blood from the body of someone she had killed.
“No.” She spat out the word, a little too harsh for her own liking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant it like that. I’ll eat later”
Treech only laughed. “It’s all good. I get it.”

And he fell back into silence. Silence. Silence. The face of the boy returned. It twisted and shaped itself into the face of the girl from 12. Then the girl from 4, then her own. She felt laughing trailing around her, followed by screams. Constant screams that filled her mind until all she could was sit, hunched over herself as the dying faces of her fellow tributes circled around her, Plinth laughing down at her while the voices of everyone she had killed wailed and screamed for their own solace. They echoed in her head and Coral could feel her body curl in on itself. There was nothing she could do except wait until it passed.

“I’m making pancakes.” Tanner’s booming voice filled the silence. She sat up in a second to see Treech, still looking at her, face now filled with concern.

“Sounds great!” her voice cracked as she turned to look at Tanner. He was standing in the doorframe of the bathroom. Looking right at her. She looked away, but his eyes did not waver. The words he said held no meaning, not to him. But Coral knew all too well how aware Tanner was of everything that bothered his friends.
And Coral knew that, despite the focus he held on the games, his ears always listened for a sound of silence, any lapse in the noise. She didn’t think it was a conscious action anymore. He’d become so adjusted to each of their own quirks that even the slightest pause in noise would be broken.

Tanner's voice interrupted her racing thoughts again.
“Yes. It does. Why don’t you help me and we can have a chat.”
That sounded nice. Really nice.
“If you make extra I’ll have some.” Treech’s voice was quiet, as if he had put a lot of effort into just getting the words out of his mouth.
Coral laughed. “What was wrong with mine when I offered?”
He grinned back at her. “Nothing beats Tanner’s cake.”

She could vaguely hear Tanner chortling from the kitchen.

———————————————-

Coral was losing patience. The tributes from her home were long dead and the games were dragging on. No one had died in what felt like days and the tributes were getting tired. More tired than normal.
It was early in the morning, around 5:30, and she was almost certain that no action would pick up until later.
She lay, slumped across the couch as Treech muttered to himself, to his own little screen.
“Final five. Come on my girl. Please.”
Coral wanted to laugh, but she knew it would be cruel. She had never seen him so invested, and maybe it was for the best. The shadows under his eyes were darkening rapidly and he looked skinnier than before, if that was even possible.

She yawned and Treech turned to look at her. “Do you want me to stop talking?”
“No!” she said, quickly, her voice cracking ever so slightly. “Please, go ahead. Keep talking”
“Right. Okay. It’s just I don’t even realise I’m doing it. Like one moment I’m thinking about the game and then the next, Reaper is complaining about how I never shut up.”

Coral shuffled so she was lying in a more upright position, leaning against the arm of the sofa, looking at Treech.

“I think it’s annoying, y’know. But coming from a quiet home brings lots of opportunity for talking. So maybe I’m just used to it”
He was chatting away, almost to himself as Coral didn’t have much input into the conversation. Not that she minded, she was happy to just let him talk.

“See that’s why I never understood why people liked me so much. I mean, I was a pretty average kid. Just really, really talkative.” She grinned as he flapped his hands around, gesturing randomly to the air. “And then when I won, well I guess even before I won, people suddenly found that really charming. It would be a great thing to have if the Capitol didn’t like to sell it.”

Her smile faded.

“But I don’t mind. Not anymore. It’s a good distraction I find. I mean it’s a bit difficult and I really don’t like it. But It’s just a part of life y’know. Just another thing I gotta deal with. And I think the thing that annoys me the most is that its not just me. Maybe if it was just me I’d be alright with it. Because when we’re all so isolated like this I always feel so alone. Then I remember that so many other victors are doing the same. Makes me feel worse to be honest.”
As he talked faster and faster the capitol accent he put on quickly faded, slipping back to the drawl of district 10.

“Sorry.”

The posh accent came back in an instant, but it made Coral more uncomfortable than when he lost it. It felt so unnatural, so forced. It didn’t fit his face and didn’t suit his personality.
“It don’t bother me.” She’d never changed herself for the capitol and was eternally thankful that they had never forced her to do so.
“Great.”

The sound of a cannon blasted from the screen.
She’d almost forgotten about the games. Happening right in front of her as she was thinking about accents. All the guilt she ever carried returned to her at once as she and Treech turned in a flash to look at the screen.

“Ah, shit, there he goes. Surprising he lasted this wrong.” Jessup poked out of his room and slumped down on the couch next to Coral. His voice was strong but she could hear the tension as he held back the emotion she knew was ever present.

“Morning.” She said, dodging view of the screen as the cameras zoomed in to the body of the boy from 12.
“Morning.” He returned the greeting. “Looks like they’ve released the mutts. We were losing action so it made sense.”

At that, Coral looked back to the screen and almost gagged. Huge scorpions scuttled across the desert, one with some distinctly red stains on its pincers. They were horrible to look at. Faces twitching and trembling as an eerie clicking and snapping followed them around as they moved.
Another cannon blasted soon after and she heard a small gasp from Treech. The boy from 7 - Oaklan - faced the screen, pain etched across his face as the pincer of another scorpion pierced through his stomach. He looked shocked, as if he hadn’t really known the scorpions were even there. The pincer pulled from his body with a sickening squelch as the camera drew focus to Lamina. She looked shocked, frozen in place as she watched Oaklan fall face down in the sand.
Treech was standing up by now.

“Run.” He said. But Lamina was not moving.
“Run.” He yelled. And Lamina ran.

The camera switched focus from her quickly as the couple from 1 faced scorpions of their own. They fought off a solid few, even killed one, but as success came - the tragedy soon followed. The girl, Treble, found herself with a similar fate as Oaklan. Coral waited for the cannon but no sound came.
“She’s not dead yet! Maybe this could be a real underdog victory as our injured tributes find a way to the end!” The sound of Lucky Flickerman boomed from the speakers and Coral could see Treech flinch.

Treble had been scooped into the arms of the boy, Flick, and they too started running. Coral tore her gaze away from the screen to see the final three sleeping victors emerge from where they slept.
Tanner was already scribbling notes on paper, crossing out faces and placing new bets. Lucy Grey was at Jessup’s side. They were talking quietly again but Coral could make out a few words.
“Made it far.”
“Best yet.”
“Hope.”

Coral went to offer her seat but Lucy Grey lowered herself slowly to the floor, humming a soft song to herself as the cameras followed the running tributes.
Reaper was talking to Treech, patting him on the back.
Coral hadn’t thought about that. Although Treech was clearly attached to Lamina, Oaklan had also meant a lot to him. The loss would be hard, she assumed.

“I can’t believe they released the mutts so early in the morning. It doesn’t make sense for them, it’ll lose them a huge spike in viewership they could’ve had.” Tanner was still thinking about the logistics of it all. He loved the numbers, the ideas, the logic behind it all. He suited the victor life.

“Final three. She’s final three. And that basically means final two because Treble ain’t winning. Flick is weak, too, she’ll win. I know it.” Treech’s capitol accent dropped again as he started rocking back and forward where he sat.

The victors were fixed on the screen for an hour until Lamina made it to the cornucopia. She was crying and as the tears flew down her face they mixed with the sweat of running through a desert. She pushed herself into the smallest corner of the horn and promptly collapsed to the floor, crying until she fell asleep.
Treech turned away from the screen, pain filled his face as his watched his tribute ignore every rule of the games. She was going to die there, was the most obvious answer, but Flick was still running.
As time passed, Lamina slept on. Flick was further from the cornucopia, and he was slowed down by the weight of the Treble in his arms. Tanner had turned away from the games mumbling something about breakfast. Lucy Grey had gone to help him. Jessup and Reaper fell into casual conversation as Treech stared at the screen. Now, he wasn’t even blinking.

——————————————————-

“Oh my god”, Lucy Grey murmured through her hands, clasped over her mouth.
Treble was still lying on the ground.

What used to be Treble.

The cannon had confirmed the inevitable as she succumbed to the wound that was tearing up her body. Flick knelt, crouched over her body, one hand hovering above her cheek. The other arm was outstretched, reaching forward to Lamina who stood, still desperately trying to catch her breath as a knife hurtled towards her.

It was a good throw, Coral could give him that.

“Oh my god.” Lucy Grey repeated as the camera focused in on Lamina.
The scene seemed to freeze as Lamina stood, knife lodged into her arm. It stuck just below her shoulder and the knife seemed to plug the wound that it had caused. But, as the seconds passed small droplets of blood oozed around the hold of the blade, swelling a deep red and seeping down her arm. Lamina glanced down at the knife. If it bothered her, she didn’t show it. She simply watched as Flick stood up, arms shaking, face marred with rage, and walked towards her. All she did was reach behind her back. All she did was bring down her axe in one swoop.

“Oh my god.” Lucy Grey stood from where she was sitting on the floor, leaning on Jessup’s legs, and walked into the kitchen. Reaper gave Treech a pat on the back and followed her. Jessup turned to look, but remained seated. His eyes were wide as he looked around the room, trying to get an idea into what any of the other victors may have been thinking. But Tanner had turned his back to them, already on the phone with someone. Discussing results and payment.
Coral turned to look at Treech, give congratulations.
Maybe a reassuring smile.
But he had already fled from the room.

Notes:

I feel like this segment is starting to really introduce the relationships and personalities of our victors so I really like it.
This also feels a lot longer than the other ones, but that might just be me lmao.
Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter as it’s wrapping up the first arc of this story!
As always, any comments, questions or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated!
Thank you so so much for reading and I’ll see you later ❤️❤️

Chapter 5: The Smoke Clears When You're Around

Notes:

Chapter Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
I hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

"Please welcome your newest victor to the stage - I bring you Lamina!", Lucky Flickerman yelled out to his audience. He was met with cheers.
Treech sat in the front row of the crowd, joined by the other mentors that hadn't been so lucky to see their tribute through. He was sat between the previous victors from district 6 and 8, familiar faces but no one he had ever really spoken to.
They all wore a grim face as they politely applauded for Lamina as she entered the stage. It made sense as to why, but Treech couldn't even spare a moment to feel bad for them.
He glanced down the row to Lucy Grey. She gave him a quick smile and a thumbs up, followed by a gesture to breathe.

He took a deep breath. Then another. Then a third as his focus flipped back to the stage.

Lamina looked confident and proud, nothing like the weeping girl he had seen only a few hours prior. The stylists had cleaned her up well. There was not a trace of dirt on her face, the streaks of blood that had marred it so recently cleared and replaced with a light face of makeup.
Her amputated arm had been fitted with a glistening, metal replacement. As she waved, it moved fluidly. As if it had always been a part of her, not something she had lost that very day.

Lucky laughed as he gestured for her to sit down, asking her the first question.
"So what are you going to do now that you've won?"
If Lamina was bothered by all the commotion, she didn't show it. The smile remained on her face and she answered every question well, pretending to be in thought at everything asked, even though the answers had been drilled into her as she was prepared to make her way on stage.

She kept smiling until the end of the interview, when she was moved into transport to the next stadium.

She kept smiling as President Snow placed a crown upon her head, declaring her as the victor of the 49th Annual hunger games and she kept smiling as she was ushered off stage, into the embrace of Treech, waiting for her to finish.

That was when the smile faded. Replaced by tears that immediately broke from her, a loud sob as the eyeliner and mascara that had been delicately painted on her eyes began to run.
"It's so loud", was all she managed to whisper as she wept into Treech's shoulder. It was a strange feeling. She grasped onto him so tight, with one arm so warm and another so cold, solid and metal, yet holding and feeling just like a normal hand.

Lamina pulled away from the embrace and wiped the tears from her eyes, straightening her posture and attempting to dab away the ruined makeup.
All Treech could do was gently take her hand and guide her away. Away from the commotion and the people. Away from the Capitol and everything that it meant. He took her to the only place that he could think to take her.
His lounge of the mentors building, where - apparently - the other previous victors had already returned to.

He opened his door to a cheer from his friends, followed by immediate silence as they realised who he was accompanied by.
"Treech you brought her here?", Coral hissed as Tanner tried - and failed - to hold back a laugh.
He glanced to look at Lamina, her eyes had widened and her face grew red. She looked both embarrassed and terrified.
"We can go if you want", he turned to her.
Lucy Grey gasped from across the room. "Absolutely not Treech!", she hurried over to him, "We should go. I'm so sorry for coming back. We should have assumed you'd bring her here."
Lamina looked up at Lucy's concerned face. The older woman was keeping her distance, trying to make sure Lamina was as comfortable as possible.
"No its okay. I'd like to meet you all.", she managed a weak smile as Treech led her to the couch, sitting down next to her and gesturing the other victors to sit as well.

"Hi Lamina", Coral nodded to her, "Treech. Why is she here? Don't the Capitol want to... I don't know... Poke around a bit?"
"No, not at the minute. They've done the cleanup, interview and award ceremony. And I 'persuaded' them to leave her alone for the minute", Treech smiled.
Tanner groaned as Treech raised his hands to air quote 'persuade', "Buddy that's not a great use of your Capitol charm. Thought you avoided it at every chance possible?"
Treech laughed dryly, "Well this was important."
Lamina, still wide-eyed, turned to stare at him, "What does he mean? What did you do?"
Tanner smirked, ever so slightly, at the awkward explanation that he knew was to come.
"Not important. Right now I should introduce you to my friends!"
"Oh that sounds lovely!", Lucy Grey agreed, "I'm Lucy Grey Baird, its a been a long time since I won a game and you wouldn't have heard much about it at all. I ain't from District 12 but its the home I have now, and its the one I represented. Its a pleasure to meet you little one, you gave a good fight.", she reached out to shake Lamina's hand before seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion and quickly drawing her hand away.

"This here is Jessup. He's also a district 12 boy but he was born and raised there", she continued.
Jessup gave a quick nod of acknowledgement, "25th games. First Quarter Quell."
Lamina nodded and smiled, ever so slightly.

Coral looked Lamina up and down before she chimed in, "I'm Coral. District 4. I'm 19. My games were the 42nd"
Lamina grinned at that, "I remember you! Youngest victor ever!"
Coral laughed, "That's me."
"I always liked your hair. It reminds me a bit of my own."
Coral beamed, looking more pleased than Treech had seen her in years. It was a good sign. Lamina was already getting along with his few friends.

Tanner piped up next, "Tanner. 35th Games. District 10." He didn't have much else to say, he never really did. Lamina just bobbed her head in acknowledgement and looked to Reaper.
"I'm Reaper Ash. I'm 26 now but I was 16 when I won. I'm from District 11 and it's a pleasure to meet you."
Treech glanced back to look at Lamina, "So you won the 39th games?", she asked and Reaper nodded.
"Your turn", Treech nudged Lamina slightly, and she turned to look at him, fear returning to her eyes.
"It's okay little one", Lucy Grey smiled, "We don't bite. And you don't have to say all that much. We already know quite a bit about you from this fella over her", she gestured towards Treech.
Lamina grinned, but her voice still shook ever so slightly as she spoke, "I'm Lamina. I'm from district 7 and I'm 18."
"Oh so close to being free from the draw!", Tanner interrupted. Treech gave him a quick glare as Lamina continued.
"Yeah I guess so. Um... Treech was my mentor. And I'm pretty excited that I'm alive."
A quick bark of laughter burst from Reaper Ash, "Aren't we all, sugar."

"Well I think we ought to give you some congratulations, right everyone?", Lucy Grey pointedly looked at each one of her fellow victors as they murmured some form of kudos. "You did very well. We've been watching you this whole time and you've been strong from the start. I'm sure everyone back home is very, very proud of you. Now, everyone else, I think we best go back to our own suites. We can stop by in the morning but for now Lamina and Treech need some time to talk, and rest. Best wishes. It's been lovely to meet you."

And with that, she stood up and moved to the door, motioning the other victors to follow her out. Treech went after them, saying some quick goodbyes as they left while Lamina waved slightly from the couch. Coral gave him a quick hug, then dashed from the door to follow Tanner back to their floor.

———————————————

"What happens now?", was all Lamina wanted to know when he sat down on the couch again.
It was a hard thing to say. It wasn't because it was all terrible, which it was, but it was because nothing was certain. There was next to nothing he could tell her for sure.
"I really don't know Lamina. I really don't know."
It didn't comfort her. He wasn't expecting it to.
"I mean I can give you a guess. Or a vague outline?"
Lamina nodded. Treech felt bad for the little information he could give her. He was meant to be her guide throughout the games, but never in any of his dreams had he thought that that guide would ever go beyond a victory.

"Okay so first of all, the Capitol will want you back for some final touch ups. Make sure your arm works good, you look presentable, so on", he could feel his Capitol accent slipping with every word he shared with Lamina. She was the deepest reminder of his home. His old home. Before his games and before it all. Her burning passion, that need for survival, brought him back to a yearning he'd had long before all he wanted was to live.

"Then you'll be left alone for a bit. They'll send you back home and let you settle in. There'll be a celebration. It'll be really loud. And probably uncomfortable. But I'll be there if you need me."
She wasn't saying anything in response. Treech could see the millions of cogs turning in her head.
Thinking. Asking. Wondering.

"Anyway. You can move back home. Your family will move in with you. Couple months will pass", he really wasn't sure what to say, "My advice is just to pretend its all normal. Not much is going to change from here on out. Its hard to think about, but this is your life now."

Her eyes widened slightly, but if she was any more bothered than that she didn't show it.
"Then its party time! Capitol will bring you back, start networking you with their citizens. Just try to be charismatic, I guess. But they're so in their own heads that just seeing a victor gets them giddy. So I think you'll be alright", his voice began to fade as he examined Lamina's face.

He wasn't sure if his incessant talking was alright. Everyone he really knew always told him to shut up because he wouldn't be quiet. Lamina hadn't responded in a while with anything but facial expression and he was beginning to think that she just wanted to sit in silence.

"Ok", her voice cracked over the word, but she looked up at him. Her eyes had a shine to them and Treech thought that he would be able to look into them forever. They were filled with a million words, the ones that she couldn't say aloud. She was asking him to continue. She was telling him that it was alright. She was saying that this is what she needed. This was right.

Treech took a deep breath. Racking his brain for memories.
What came next.
What was going to happen.
"Then it'll be about the time of your victory tour. I think that's...", his voice trailed off again as he felt a lump begin to form in his throat, "I think that's the hardest bit. I'm not going to sugar-coat this because its going to be something you'll remember forever. They'll put the tributes families on stands so they can stare directly into your eyes. They'll ask you to give a speech. Its not going to feel good."

She nodded again.

"Then once that's all over its back to Capitol parties. You're one of them now. Its expected that you'll attend. And that you'll have fun."
He paused, again trying to look back on himself, begging his mind to remember every detail he could.
"By then its about time for the next games. That's when you're back in the public eye. The actual public eye. They'll pull you from your home and shove you on a stage and ask you to mentor the next lot, and the next lot, and next ones and all you can do is say a few encouraging words before they die."

Treech could feel the tears springing to his eyes as he looked back on it all. All the kids he had failed and everything that he had done wrong. Everyone that had died because of him. He'd been so happy that Lamina had made it, but how could he when that alone was so selfish. Treech wasn't the one that had been murdered because his mentor had failed him. Treech hadn't been the one to die before he was even a teenager.

Treech had survived. He couldn't believe himself. Acting as if he knew it all. As if he was so old and wise, when he could only save one girl in years. A million thoughts were racing through his head, his own voice calling him a failure, the voices and faces of all the children he had failed crying at his feet, begging and pleading for life.

Lamina coughed and his head snapped up to look at her. She looked concerned, deeply concerned and Treech began to panic. Somehow he had made this all about him. Again.
"I'm sorry", she said. It was almost a whisper, but the words still came out, "It must have been really hard."

She paused.

"I'm happy you were able to help me."
Treech forced a smile as he tried to continue. He cleared his throat. Once. Twice. And then he kept talking.
"So mentoring is a lot. But that's a lesson for another time." He glanced back up at her face, quickly looking her up and down, "I'd say you have about... 2 years? Then the Capitol will make their next judgement."

That was the first moment he had seen Lamina look confused. Taken fully off guard for the first moment since she had been reaped, "What do you mean?"
It was another topic that Treech had no idea how to introduce, let alone explain to someone who should never have to face it themselves.
"They'll decide if you're desirable."
Her jaw dropped, slightly, taking in what he had said.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Haven't you seen the newspapers? My face is all over them!", he laughed sardonically, "Always telling the world my latest partner. My latest sale."

He could hear her breath gaining pace as her eyes flicked, nervously around the room. She drew her focus back to him, but her face looked as if she couldn't quite believe it.
"You told me. Right after I won. But I wasn't sure how serious you were being", her voice trailed off.
Treech was about to bite back, some bitter statement about everything he had suffered. But he looked back into her eyes. Her beautiful shining eyes. And he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I'm sorry Lamina. We had this conversation too soon. Its not something you need to worry about for the time being. There's a lot more that needs to be said before that happens, if ever."
She nodded once more.
"Can I ask one more question?"
"Mhm."
"Why do you do it? Why do you say yes?"
Treech cleared his throat again, trying to think of the best way to explain the last years of his life in a sentence.
"I don't want them to kill my family"
He looked down to the floor, not really wanting to see her reaction. She gasped, quietly, but he knew she had realised the gravity of the situation.
"And a lot of the time its the only way for my tributes to get any form of sponsorship at all."
Treech turned back to look into her eyes as Lamina started crying.

Notes:

Lots of dialogue here! Nice intro from our lovely victors to their newest BFF which was fun to write.
TBH I really struggled writing the second part and I think you can tell - there's only so many ways you can write "Treech found this hard to say"
Anyway! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as we enter the next part of our story (I don't think yall are ready for what's actually coming next)!
As always, any comments, questions or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated!
Thank you so so much for reading and I'll see you later ❤️❤️

Chapter 6: The Backyard is Full of Bones

Notes:

Chapter Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
I hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

Lucy Grey couldn't remember what victory was like. It had felt like so many years had passed since she escaped her own games and it wasn't like she wanted any reminder.
Lucy Grey never had to guide a child through victory, for none had ever made it that far. She was starting to think they never would.
Lucy Grey could only imagine how difficult it would be.

She could see shared sorrow, heartbreak in everyone you both lost. She had never felt it in the same way with her fellow victors. They were all so separate, living their own lives and being their own people that it never truly held the same impact. Lucy Grey could imagine how different it would feel if the newest victor was your own. Having to regurgitate your own trauma, your own pain, your own loss to try and teach them to navigate the mine-field that was winning.

Lucy Grey couldn't say she felt the same as most victors. Those who had won before her had a capitol crowd. Those who had won after had a different games entirely. Everyone she had ever met had stories to tell of their games, people who recognised them and everything they had worked for. Lucy Grey had none of it. She had a games that had been deleted from the records. She had a murderous ex-boyfriend who ruled the country. She had stories upon stories that she couldn't bring herself to tell.
She couldn't say she was angry with how the games had progressed, despite the wish that they hadn't continued at all. They were still cruel. Horrible to watch. But it was easier for the tributes now then it was for her. No longer were they held behind bars and fed scraps. No longer were they forced to fight in remnants of bombings, kept alive only at the mercy of their so-called mentors.

She was glad the mentorship had changed. Lucy Grey truly believed that Coriolanus Snow had been the worst mentor in the history of the games.
The way he played the people, and played her too. The way he coerced her into victory when even Lucy Grey was sure she didn't deserve to win.

But Lucy Grey didn't wish for death like so many of the other victors did. Her life was well lived, despite everything, and she had moved along enough to leave everything behind it. Someday, she hoped, they all would. It still broke her heart, to see people - almost all who were younger than her - hoping for a way out of life. The life they had fought tooth and nail to save in the brutality of the games.
She thought it should have been eye opening. To see what victory really offered. But still, children fought.

And Lamina had fought well. Every time that Treech spoke about her, his sunken eyes lit up. His quiet demeanour that he had trained himself to keep began to slip as his thoughts and words began to spill all of his hopes and dreams. It was a subtle plea from a drowning boy, to give him something to hold on to. To give him a reason to keep going.
And keep going he did. Because Lamina's victory had shifted something in him, Lucy Grey seemed to notice. He started moving rapid fire, shaping into a new version of himself that could help someone. Could guide someone.

They reminded Lucy Grey of herself and her family. Meeting her husband and realising that suddenly everything was okay. Suddenly it was alright. She could see that same shift in Treech - that same realisation. Even if he hadn't quite figured it out yet, Lucy Grey knew she was eager to watch it progress.

———————————————

It had been about 5 months since Lucy Grey had heard anything specific from Treech, aside from the random communication of "I'm good" and "Not much".
She probably could've expected to see the next message come through - but it still took her by surprise.

"Victory tour starting tomorrow. See you in 12."

She smiled, briefly. It was always nice to see her victors and she was excited to see the new girl now that she had briefly settled in.

Lucy Grey never had a victory tour and she was ever so thankful for that. Every time a victor was paraded around she felt just as bad as them. She too stood on that stage, staring out at the dead tributes families. She too knew what it was like to watch them die. What she never had to do was stand up and give a speech, spreading Capitol propaganda amongst all the people of the Capitol for weeks on end.

Although she never had her own, it always felt like she had. For almost 40 years she had been standing on that stage every year, accompanying the newest victor as they gazed over their district. District 12 was always the first stop. Only once had it moved positions, to be the final destination for the 25th games. The first time she had ever done anything right.
Back then she stood, 25 years younger alongside a 13 year old Jessup. She smiled down at him, revelling in the idea that she was no longer alone. She had finally saved someone.

Lucy Grey was sure Treech would feel the same way. Just knowing that, despite it all, it was possible. And now there was someone who truly understood you.

———————————————

What Lucy Grey hadn't expected was how close Lamina and Treech had grown in just a few short months. She and Jessup had taken years to be fully comfortable around each other, even though she knew that was primarily due to their larger age gap.
Lucy Grey was taken ever so slightly off guard when Treech followed Lamina to the microphone, placing a comforting hand in the small of her back as she looked over the district.
Lucy Grey hadn't anticipated the look she would receive from Jessup as Lamina reached up to press a quick kiss against Treech's cheek when they had made their way off stage.
He turned to look at her, gesturing at the two young victors quietly talking and nodding when she mouthed back at him, "It makes sense."

It was the first time Lucy Grey had actually put time aside to watch the victory tour. Normally once it passed 12 she forgot all about it - out of sight, out of mind - aside from the occasional message from one of the victors she was friendly with.
This year was different. This year she watched Lamina and Treech every time they made their way on stage, looking for that shared look. That quick touch of their hands. The red blush that made its way onto Treech's face every time he looked at Lamina.

It was the first victory tour that she reached out to her friends before they reached out to her, begging them for any sign that had been exhibited in their own district. From what she had heard, Lamina and Treech were not bothering to keep their growing relationship any form of secret, at least not from the victors backstage.
No news had leaked to the press, yet, but she was sure that sooner rather than later the headlines would be full of this newest "DOUBLE-VICTOR RELATIONSHIP!!!"

But, as time passed on - no news came of Treech and Lamina. Lucy Grey wasn't sure how they'd managed to keep their relationship so off the radar, but she also knew that it wasn't certain they were even together at all.

Lucy Grey didn't spend too much time thinking about it. As soon as the victory tour had ended it almost slipped her mind - she had a lot of other things to think about. The time between the tour and the games was always the most peaceful. The capitol left them all alone as they put all their efforts into the logistics of the next games. The victors who were old like her weren't forced to interact with capitol citizens and she was largely left to her own devices.
Whenever this time of the year rolled around, Lucy Grey focused on her music. She on her veranda, lightly strumming on her guitar and scribbling lyrics down into a notepad if they ever popped into her mind.
When she wasn't writing songs, she was performing them. She would take her covey band to the pubs of 12 and they would perform for the masses. They had been around for so long - at this point - that all of the district knew of their existence. They were a sought after group to play. It was a sense of fame that Lucy Grey had never thought she would get.
Growing up, Lucy Grey had always wanted to be the best singer. Then she got dragged away to her games. When she won, she thought that, despite everything that she had been through, this would be her big break.
But then she fell into the wrong hands. Messing with Snow meant messing with life and every memory of her was deleted, left to rot in a district that she had never truly seen as her home. So Lucy Grey did the only thing she could.
Threw herself back into her music. Make a name for herself in a way she wanted. In a way she deserved.
And, by now, the hard work had paid off. She was known. Lucy Grey was wanted.

She was so busy, in fact, that she had barely noticed the time until the games ticking away, rapidly. She had come home one night and dropped into her bed, exhausted from the performance just hours prior. She was about to drift off to sleep when her communicator buzzed.

"Are we meeting up this year?"

She was almost confused as to what the message from Coral meant.

"We could meet in the Capitol. Quarter quell announcement is a good week or two before the reaping, so we'd have time to get together before heading back for that."

She grimaced.
Right.
The Quarter Quell was this year.

"Sounds good", she said, before turning off the device and trying to get some shut-eye.
Regardless of how tired she had been before, she tossed and turned in a fruitless effort to get some sleep. Too many thoughts were plaguing her mind.

———————————————

Jessup was a lot more bothered than Lucy Grey had seen him in years. Ever since he had won he had always been so calm, tranquil even, as if all that happened hardly bothered him.
Now the façade had faded. Jessup paced the living room of the Treech's Capitol apartment as the television in front of them played all the highlights of prior games, in the leadup to the announcement.
There was no telling what the cruel twist would be this year, but no matter what Lucy Grey knew it would feel too familiar to Jessup.

Treech was sat on his couch, mindlessly twirling Lamina's vibrant hair as she lay, her head resting in his lap. Tanner looked no more bothered than usual and Coral and Reaper were having a casual conversation in the corner, presumably catching up after the time spent apart.
Lucy Grey was never quite sure what the other victors did in the break - except for Jessup - she tended to stay away from the news after the first articles broke about Treech. And, when they met up it always seemed like there was something more important to discuss.

"Any bets?", Tanner asked from the armchair he was sitting on.
Treech flashed him a glare as Lamina sat up to look at him.
"Do you really bet on all of this? Doesn't it feel a little... I don't know... Wrong?"
His face shifted slightly - thoughtful - for just a moment, before his empty smile returned.
"Sometimes its the only way to get through it all. If you pretend like its all just another thing to win it doesn't feel so real."

Lucy Grey didn't know how to react. She wasn't sure he'd ever explained why he bet on the kids - everyone just knew that he did. He'd been doing it for ages and they all knew not to judge someone for how they coped.
Lamina just nodded along.

"I think its a little hard to bet on what it'll be. I mean it really could be anything", Jessup paused his pacing, "Whatever it'll be is going to be cruel. And its going to be unfair. Unnecessary."

Tanner looked at him, as if staring right through him, then just smiled again, "Sounds about right for the Capitol", and he turned back to look at the television.

Lucy Grey followed his gaze, as the screen pictured a young boy shoving another boy off a cliff, collapsing to the ground in exhaustion as the final cannon blasted.
It was a strange thing to imagine. That there were 49 victors out there. 49 people who had to live through a games just for an even greater horror to await them. And with that came so many more dead. So many children who would never grow up.

Coral and Reaper brought their light conversation to a close as the video feed switched to show cheering citizens in seats that lined the Capitol auditorium, watching President Snow wave to the people.
Her fellow victors all sat around her, looking at the screen, all with a sense of morbid curiosity. What would they do this time?

Snow looked older every time she saw him. He looked more tired as well, as if he had been sleeping worse and worse since he abandoned her in the woods so many years ago.
But still he waved. He smiled that ghastly smile out to every person that had to watch - had to know what was going to happen.

This so-called special event.

The President stood up on his platform and Lucy Grey grimaced. His smug face looked directly into the camera and it felt like her was looking at her. It felt like he was showing everything that he had created of the games. Everything that he had created in spite of her.

He cleared his throat. Once. The crowd silenced in an instant. He looked over the sea of his adoring capitol fans, and then back up at the camera that was focused on him as he began to speak.
"Ladies and Gentlemen. This is the 50th year of the Hunger Games", another cheer broke out as he held up his hand to quiet them, smiling nonetheless.
"It was written in the charter of the games. Every 25 years there will be a Quarter Quell, to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of the uprising against the Capitol and those who died. "
Lucy Grey felt sick just watching him, but even she was struck in captivated silence - that sickening feeling of not knowing what was going to happen next.
"Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a... special significance. Now on this eve, We celebrate the second Quarter Quell."
She could feel Jessup shudder from where he was sitting next to her. She knew that this game would be especially hard for him, such a clear reminder of his own quarter quell 25 years ago.
Snow held up a small piece of paper in front of him, scanning the words and grinning.

"On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that even if you think you are victorious - that sentiment will never be shared, the tributes will be reaped from the family members of existing victors, regardless of age or gender."

She could hear Coral gasp. A small whimper broke from Tanner, it was the most emotion she had heard him show in years.
Lucy Grey wanted to look at her fellow victors, see their faces and thoughts, but she couldn't tear her eyes from the screen. What she really wanted to do was reach through the camera and throttle Snow. Say it was so unfair. That they didn't deserve any of it.
She could feel as she lost control of her breathing. She could feel the rage bubble up inside of her, taking over her mind and her body. She didn't move from the couch. She didn't stand and she still didn't pull her eyes from the man she used to love.

For the first time in 40 years, Lucy Grey Baird lost her cool.

Her throat was dry, and her voice was breathy but as tears sprang to her face, Lucy Grey began to scream.

Notes:

Quarter Quell time!!
Woohoo! The Capitol is evil!!
I was unsure how cruel to go but I have a lot of characters I want to introduce so this is what I ended up with.
I'm not sure if you'll guess who is going in for each district, but I think a couple of them you'll be able to figure out.
As always, any comments, questions or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated!!
Thank you so, so much for reading and I'll see you later ❤️❤️

Chapter 7: This Tired Old Machine is A-Rumbling

Notes:

Chapter Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
Title - Curses by the Crane Wives
I hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

"Coral! Coral!", her little cousin screamed as the peace keepers dragged him from their home. She wanted to fight back, tell someone this wasn't fair. Start lying and saying they were never related but Coral knew she couldn't.
All she could do was stand on her doorstep, looking out at her last remaining family members were ushered to the centre of the district, ready for one of them to be reaped.

The last few days had gone by in a blur. She could remember Lucy Grey's desperate wails as she screamed at the man announcing what could only be described as torture. She could remember Tanner making desperate calls, anyone, everyone, someone who could make a difference. Who could change this.
She could remember the cold train trip home. Curled up on a seat, shivering as her mind flashed with everything that would come of this.

"It's not gonna be them", she whispered to herself, "there's so many other victors."

"It's not gonna be them."

Coral didn't have much family left. Her parents had drowned at sea, "a hazard of the job", they said. She was brought up by her uncle and aunt, and her cousin Mizzen was basically a brother.
She had worked what felt like every day of her life, supporting her little family and her district until she was dragged away to the games.
But winning didn't seem to change much. She came home and continued to work. Continued to provide for her family.

Coral was hoping that cousins wouldn't count.

———————————————

"The first tribute for 50th Annual Hunger Games, and second quarter quell is..."
The announcer paused and Coral could feel her heart racing. If her aunt was chosen she knew she wouldn't survive. Her family probably wouldn't survive either. The loss of their mother would break them all apart. If it was her uncle they would probably starve. That, or she would have to work twice as hard. She couldn't even imagine what it would be if Mizzen was picked from that bowl. The idea was too horrible for her to grasp.
"Cove."
A mentor she had never really spoken to fell to his knees. He looked about her age and he grasped onto the girl's hands when she reached the stage.
"No. No. No!" His voice cracked but the girl didn't falter. She made her way to stand in front of the crowd.
"Oh my dear, congratulations", their capitol representative made no move to recognise the weeping boy on the ground, "Now do say. What's the relation?"
Coral could see the tears forming in the girl's eyes. She made no move to show it, but she was clearly terrified.
She couldn't have guessed exactly how old the girl - Cove - was. Clearly around the normal age for the Hunger Games. Coral would say on the far end, 17, maybe 18.
"Bay is my brother."
"Oh that's just so charming! I'm sure he'll be cheering you on back home!"
Cove nodded as the announcer turned back towards the bowl. There were plenty of names. Not enough, Coral thought. Not enough to keep her family safe.
"Now, for the next. The second tribute will be..."
The announcer paused again and Coral felt like she was about to throw up. She still wasn't safe. All of her family still had a chance to be in the games.
"Mizzen!"
She thought she must have heard it wrong. It wasn't possible. It was wrong. It was wrong. It was so, so wrong. But it wasn't. She was watching as Mizzen was pushed from the crowd, making his way to the stage. He reached out a feeble hand towards her but she was frozen in position. She couldn't do a thing.
"My...", her voice faltered as she tried to find the words. "My..."
The announcer was talking and Mizzen was responding. He didn't look concerned - pleased even. Maybe he thought he could prove himself.

Coral didn't think he would. She thought he was going to die doing this. He was going to die in that stupid arena and there was nothing she could do.

"My cousin. Mizzen. Please. It's someone else, not him. He's only 15. Please"

But her voice was drowned out by the sound of the crowd. Coral's entire world had ground to a halt and no one could even see her freeze.

———————————————

Her eyes were glued to the screen, frozen in horror, as she watched the replays of the reapings. She had hugged Mizzen as he was dragged into District 4's holding area. Coral would accompany him to the capitol tomorrow, but today she was sent away.

She really didn't know what to do. It was the first time she was ever going to mentor someone, and it was her cousin. Her blood. Her entire world.

All she could was try to hold back the tears, because she couldn't cry. No, she couldn't seem weak.

District 1's tributes brought no one she knew. The same went for District 2, but they had the unfortunate luck of drawing an old man. Looked to be about 80 and Coral couldn't help but laugh. Out of all the ways an elderly person could die, this would be by far the worst.

The first familiar faces came from district 7. The bowls were close to empty as the two victors stood on stage, grasping onto each other's hands as they looked out onto their families.
Lamina had only won the year before and now there was a chance she was about to lose everything again.

The first name called was Treech's youngest sister. The boy stood on stage, trying to hide the emotion that would reveal any signs of weakness. Coral knew the girl. Juniper. She was only 11 - too young for the games had they been normal. She ran to Treech, wrapping her arms around his waist. He knelt down to look her in the eyes, whispering something into her ear.
He looked like a father consoling his daughter, it was almost like he was.
No parents to ease the pain, just him to care for his two young sisters.
Now it would be only one.
Everyone knew Juniper wouldn't survive.

The next name was called.
"Aspen."
The microphone picked up a quiet gasp from Treech, he dropped his hand from Juniper's shoulder as his only other family member made her way to the stage.

Lamina could only stand back in shock as Treech finally broke. His teers flowed freely as his hands grasped around his little sisters. 14 and 11. So young. And, being faced with the most vicious game known to man, he was having to figure out how to say goodbye.
They would not be as lucky as him.
They would not survive.

———————————————

As more and more districts were reaped, it became clear that Lamina was the only member of their victor's group that got out free from the agony.
She could see Tanner's heart break as his wife was dragged from the crowd, kicking and screaming as she tried to reach out and hold him, but she was pulled from his grasp as he yelled her name.
It felt so wrong. Tanner was never upset. Tanner was strong. And brave. And confident.
Tanner didn't cry.
This wasn't the Tanner she knew.

District 11 brought nothing better. Reaper's 60 year old mother made her way to the stage. Coral knew they weren't that close, but the way he gently closed his eyes, holding a hand over his heart as his chest began to rise and fall a little quicker, she knew that they were close enough.

District 12 was where the outrage began to spread. A second member of the famous Covey Band was reaped. Maude-Ivory wasn't Lucy Grey's real sister, everyone knew that, but clearly the capitol had decided that she was good enough for them.
Lucy Grey seemed to hold it together well. She returned the curt nod that her not-quite-sister gave to her, and pulled her into a quick hug before she was taken behind the scenes.
Alloy was where the capitol people seemed to draw the line. Jessup held onto his daughter's tiny hands as the peacekeepers escorted her to the stage. Even they seemed to be in shock. The cruelty of the capitol to take such a young child, not even six years old, to be killed in the most violent way possible.

News articles began to spread. Anger and resentment for the pain that the game makers were causing to the Capitol's beloved victors. The unfairness of the games to take what they didn't own.
More articles spread in response. These people weren't free from the games - only the current victors. For many of them the reaping was completely fair, aside from the fact there was a slightly smaller pool than normal.

Coral couldn't agree with that. How could you after watching Treech's face fall, loud sobs tearing from his body as he hugged his sisters. How could you after seeing someone so stoic and strong as
Tanner quietly whimper as he attempted to hold back the tears that forced their way down his face. Watch a 5 year old girl who had no clue what was going on give her father a hug as he held her up to speak into the microphone that she couldn't reach.

The Hunger Games weren't fair. It seemed like the capitol had finally realised how to exploit them.

———————————————

Her aunt and uncle were all she had left. Her aunt and uncle were all she would ever have now.

Mizzen was going to die in there.

Coral lay in her bed, surrounded by the riches that the capitol had offered as victory, trying to keep her sobs quiet enough as to not disturb her family downstairs.
The riches didn't feel like enough anymore. Her entire life felt like it had been leading up to a lie, all the promises made the capitol, the hope that they had filled their victors with was suddenly flushed down the drain.

Her baby cousin, alongside so many other young children, was being pushed into an arena simply because of their relation, to face off against fully grown adults - people who had years of experience on them. People who would stop at nothing to survive. Wouldn't think twice about killing a little kid.

Coral could hear the stairs creak, once, twice, three times, as someone made their way towards her room. A brief knock on her door.
"Coral, sweetie. Are you okay?", her Aunt asked from behind the door.
"Yes." She tried to sound normal. Pretend she hadn't been crying just seconds prior, but the quake in her voice and the slight slip of confidence revealed how she truly felt.
"Can I come in?"
She let out a little noise, a squeak of approval if you could call it that. Her aunt walked into her room, settling herself on the bed beside Coral. She didn't say anything - not for the first few moments - she just brushed her hand over Coral's hair, comforting her in the only way she really could.
"It'll be okay Coral. He's a strong boy... And he's happy. When he... If he goes, he'll go in glory. And you and I both know that's all he ever wanted."
Coral nodded, her face and eyes still scrunched up, trying to calm the tears that will still flowing.
"He trusts you Coral. To get him through it."
"I can't", her voice cracked, "I've never been a mentor before. I don't know how."
The gasping breaths she was taking in an attempt to ease her sobs were not working, her emotions had never got the better of her but now seemed to be the exception.
"I'm gonna kill him Marina. He's gonna die."
Her aunt shushed her. Coral reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes, and her aunt gently took hold of her hand, "We believe in you Coral. Whatever happens, we will always believe in you."
Coral nodded, but she couldn't quite believe it. If someone, even if they were some random relation, had killed her son she would never forgive them.
"Listen to me, okay? We're sending our son away expecting him to die. You and I both know the odds that he wins are next to nothing. We were never expecting this to happen but I promise you, Coral, we will never stop loving you."
"This is my fault. If I wasn't related to you-"
Her Aunt cut her off before she could finish the sentence, "Coral don't be ridiculous. You are part of this family and will always be part of this family. The Capitol is cruel, not you. This is not your fault."
She pulled Coral into a quick hug, perhaps in an attempt to stop her from pushing anymore blame onto herself.
"Thanks Marina. I love you."
"Sleep well Coral. I'll see you in the morning."

Notes:

Okay its been a hot minute since the last update... Oopsie!!!
I still want to try and get this story done, but updates are going to be a lot slower now (because I've pretty much lost all motivation - but we'll see!)

In other news:
This chapter is a lot shorter - just felt like a good spot to leave it. But the next chapter will be a LOT longer (I think) so that's exciting.
Anyway, who would've guessed that the Capitol are horrible people! No way!
In case you missed it - this year is the quarter quell and all tributes are reaped from people's family members, regardless of age or gender.
As mentioned is this chapter, the tributes we currently know are:
District 1 - Unnamed 80 year old
District 4 - Cove (18F - Sister of Bay) and Mizzen (15M - Cousin of Coral)
District 7 - Aspen (11F - Sister of Treech) and Juniper (14F - Sister of Treech)
District 10 - Eve (28F - Wife of Tanner)
District 11 - Pepper (60F - Mother of Reaper)
District 12 - Maude-Ivory (46F - "Sister" of Lucy Grey) and Alloy (5F - Daughter of Jessup)
As always, any comments, questions or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated!!
Thank you so, so much for reading and I'll see you later ❤️❤️