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00. prologue
It’s the same thing every single year. After the Treaty of Treason was signed following the events of the war and the Dark Days, children aged twelve to eighteen are forcibly gathered like cattle, only for two per district to be selected at random.
While this isn’t the first time Junia is getting ready to watch the reaping, she doesn’t think she’ll ever dread anything more than this.
July 4th usually means being one step closer to summer break for the Academy students in the Capitol, it also means being one step closer to death for whoever gets reaped in the districts. Junia remembers being forced to watch the past reapings at the Academy, and while her classmates are usually more or less interested in the process itself, she can barely stomach it.
It’s one thing knowing this is happening every year, but it’s another thing seeing the faces of the children that are being sent off to an almost inevitable death. She feels unwell just thinking about it. Knowing that the oldest among them are around her age and are currently doing what she’s doing — getting dressed for the ceremony — only makes it worse. She has tried understanding it, the reasons behind it all, but it’s futile.
She’d never think to say it out loud in public, however, she thinks it’s awful. It’s almost horrifying how admitting she believes children shouldn’t be fighting to death in an arena could be like social suicide. Junia is grateful for her life, her privileged life here in the Capitol, but whenever she thinks too much about it, the guilt starts eating away at her.
Those in the districts are also just children. They could be her, one of her brothers, or even one of her classmates. And while she doesn’t get along with all of them, it doesn’t mean she wants anything bad to happen to them either.
She sighs and fixes her bangs one last time, taking a proper look at herself. Her mother has truly outdone herself this time, giving Junia’s long hair a trim and helping with her makeup. The Academy has asked its students to dress according to the occasion which means nothing too flashy, but they’re still allowed to be fashionable.
Her mother even bought her a new dress just for today. It’s tight and dark blue with a plaid pattern, reaching all the way below her knees. The sleeves are long, and honestly, it’s the one saving grace of the day. She feels comfortable in it even if she’s not too sure how to feel about the black heels just yet. Her mother has even lent her some of her jewelry, such as her pearl earrings and a few rings that Junia knows she’ll be playing with to get her mind off things.
Unfortunately she also knows that she can’t zone out entirely. After all, it’s not just the day of the reaping — they’ll finally hear who will be taking the Plinth Prize this year. Just thinking about it makes her want to grimace. It’s not like her family is in need of the money but at the end of the day, saved money is still saved money. It matters during times like these.
With Panem still recovering from the Dark Days, even the Capitol hasn’t fully been able to remove all remaining traces of the war quite yet. Even the Beaumont family is still in the process of having their homes rebuilt and fixed. While Junia knows some of her classmates have it worse and she’s rather privileged, she wishes things could go back to the way they were before. Before the bombings, before all of those deaths — before the fire.
And before the Hunger Games. It’ll be the 10th this year and while this might seem a celebration-worthy occasion to some in the Capitol, everyone knows these Games are not looked forward to as much as they once were. Viewership is low which Junia assumes is because people are starting to realize they don’t want to see children murdering each other over a rebellion they were too young to even participate in. She wishes her parents were like that but no, they’ve been talking about this for weeks.
“If you keep on staring, your eyes will get stuck like that.”
A familiar voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Turning away from the mirror, Junia looks up into her brother’s face and has to roll her eyes. He looks just as proper as her, dressed in his dark blue suit with his hair pushed back like that, just the way their parents like it. Castiel is ten minutes younger than her and yet it sometimes seems he’s the more mature one. He’s calmer, most of the time at least.
“That doesn’t sound too bad," she muses. Eyeing his suit and the way someone must have ironed the white button-up shirt underneath to perfection, presumably the maid, she has to stifle a laugh. He’s dressed properly, but his face is grim.
“Maybe you should take your own advice though. If your face gets stuck like that, people are gonna think you’re going to a funeral.”
Castiel hums. “Like that’s too far off,” he replies, his tone a bit more snarky than intended. He knows his sister is probably the only one in the house that understands him and that getting into another argument with his father about it would ruin all of their moods, so he speaks more quietly than usual.
“It’s just stupid. I can’t wait to go back home and we haven’t even left yet.”
That has to be the most relatable thing she’s heard all day.
“Speaking of which,” she says and pauses for a moment. It’s pretty quiet but she swears she can hear footsteps in the distance along with the voices of her parents and little brother. “I’m surprised we’re still here. What’s taking so long?”
“Maybe Max can’t find his pants like last year.” Junia doesn’t question it when she sees her brother shoving something into the inside pocket of his jacket. She probably doesn’t even want to know. Whatever it is, she hopes it will ease Castiel’s nerves a little bit. “Or his bowtie. Or both.”
She smiles at the thought of their little brother currently driving their parents insane. Max is the youngest, only ten years old, and probably the cause for all of the headaches their parents have. That’s what they get for spoiling him so much. He was born after the war and thus seen as some sort of miracle baby which has always ground her gears. Even back then, the Beaumont family was never off as badly as some others. She doesn’t get what all the fuss is about but neither does Castiel.
They keep each other sane, she’s sure of it. This whole ordeal would be a lot harder to deal with if it weren’t for her twin brother.
She’s about to reply when she hears the clicking of heels on the wooden floor. They both turn around and are less than surprised to see their mother standing there, looking just as proper as they are, but undoubtedly out of breath. She takes a moment to catch herself and eyes her oldest children before a small smile tugs on her lips.
“My, look at you,” she says in her soothing voice. Pride is evident on her face. “You two look wonderful. Just wait until your father sees you, he’ll be just as proud of you as I am.”
“It’s Max, isn’t it?” The question escapes Junia’s lips without much of a second thought. The way her mother exhales in exasperation tells her everything she needs to know. “If you’d like, Cas and I can go on ahead and you can join us a bit later. It won’t look good if we’re late for the reaping.”
Adeena Beaumont doesn’t know if she should feel proud of herself for having raised such dutiful children or ashamed that her youngest son is such a troublemaker sometimes. She decides on the former for today as it’s supposed to be a good day. She visibly relaxes, the tension in her shoulders fading slightly.
“That it won’t. You’re right,” she finally agrees. She ponders for a moment and considers their options. “I’m sorry, I know this is a big day for you.”
Castiel waves her off. He wants to tell her that he’d rather strip out of his clothes and run off like his little brother but he holds it in. “It’s nothing new,” he reassures her, though that probably isn’t what his mother wants to hear either. “You won’t miss out on much.”
“Unless one of you two wins the Plinth Prize," Adeena corrects him and steps forward, wrapping her arms around her twins at once. It only feels like yesterday that she first held them in her arms and today they’re as good as adults. It fills her with a bittersweet feeling whenever she looks at them.
Junia leans in, much like her brother does. One of her hands rests on her mother’s back and she resists the urge to bury her face in her mother’s shoulder like she used to when she was younger. The sweet scent of her perfume fills Junia’s nose and the urge vanishes at once.
Usually, they’d be taking pictures right now. Of course she knows they won’t be spared, they’ll have to put on their best smiles later when everyone is back home. Her mom has a strange need to take photos of everything. Junia had hoped this hobby of hers would wear off but after her father had gifted her a new camera a few weeks ago, all hope for that ever happening flew out of the window.
Junia hates all of it. The fake smiles for the camera, the fancy outfits, the jewelry. She’s grateful for her privileged life but wishes it was less… strict and uptight once in a while.
It’s a sweet scent entering her nose, one that almost makes her feel dizzy. It feels as though it’s about to swallow her whole. So sickeningly sweet, like the most artificial candy she can think of. A cold shiver runs down her spine and Junia sighs. This is her mother’s embrace. She’s not supposed to feel trapped. It must be the nerves, or at least that’s what she’s trying to tell herself.
And yet here she is, with a strange feeling of nausea creeping up on her.
Something is about to change. This year will be different.
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remember, some things have to end
for better things to begin.
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