Mocking the Odds (A Hunger Games/Tom Hiddleston Fanfic)

Trials and Tributes

A hard knock comes from the doorway of my new surroundings, and I sit up wearily. Standing there is a young man, so tall he has to lean his head downward to keep from hitting the frame and muscles that ripple every time he moves. He looks to be around his thirties, with electric blue eyes and long blond hair that he's tied into a ponytail. 

"May I come in?" he asks in a rough voice, with a strange accent I've never heard before. I meekly nod, scrambling to cover myself with the sheets, even though I was in pajamas. He stands awkwardly for a moment before sitting in the chair on the other side of the room. 

"Did you sleep alright?" There's concern in his voice. 

I shake my head. "Not at all. I kept having nightmares." The man frowns.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that." Getting up from the chair, he moves over to the bed, holding out a hand. I cautiously shake it, but to my amazement, it's very tender. "My name is Christopher. You can call me Chris, if you'd like. There are no living victors from 10, so I've been assigned to you as your mentor. I'm from District 7."

"Hello, Chris." I manage a tiny wave. 

"I'm sure you have many questions for me, don't you?"

"Just one, that I can think of right now."

"Go on. I'm all ears."

"Where are you from? Not district-wise, but in general. You have a different accent I've never heard before."

Chris chuckles loudly. "That's a very interesting first question to ask. My ancestors came from a place called Australia, way back when North America still existed. I guess the accent stayed through the generations." He pats my shoulder. "Come, get dressed. Breakfast, and then I'll show you around with James, alright?"

I perk up at hearing James's name. "How is he?"

"Doing well. You really care about him, don't you?"

My cheeks flame. "Not...not in the way you-"

Chris laughs again. "Don't worry. I know it's not like that." But there's a twinkle in his eye. "We might be able to do something with that, though. Your relationship. Sponsors clamor for a couple in love to end up in the same Games. Peeta and Katniss pulled it off really well."

Instantly, my face darkens. "Then the sponsors are sick. Just like the goddamn rest of the people who had the bright idea to make up this whole thing. And Peeta and Katniss are the reason I'm here right now. If they didn't start the second rebellion, the Games wouldn't be reinstated."

His voice turns serious. "Be careful what you say around here, Reyna. There are eyes all over." 

"Sorry." I mutter, not feeling sorry at all. Chris's face softens.

"I know how you feel. Perhaps some food in your stomach will do good for you. It always did when I was a tribute, and it still does." He winks at me as he leaves the room, and I can't help my smile.  

After a breakfast of pancakes and fruit from 11's orchards, Chris leads us to the living room of the suite, where a leather wraparound couch dominates much of the space. I plop down on the soft rug, curling my toes in the plush fabric. James sits next to me on the ground, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

Our mentor holds up a piece of clear glass and touches a finger to it, at which the large flatscreen television blinks to life. Aquila joins us from out of nowhere and takes a seat on the sofa. 

"The Reapings all finished in the early hours of the morning today." he says. "We're going to watch them, district by district, so you two can know your competition better."