Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Percy stood as still as possible, gripping his homemade wooden spear and watching the river rush past around him. He waited patiently for a trout to swim up to him, and when one finally did, he stuck it through with the spear. It was a decent size and once he was in the Hob, he could trade it for something good. Fish went for a lot since only he and Grover were brave enough (stupid enough, reckless enough) to venture outside the fence. Percy slid the trout off of the spear and dropped it into his basket with the three other fish he’d already caught. He decided to catch one more before returning home to District 12.

Percy had learned to fish by watching the Hunger Games. The games were mandatory viewing for every citizen of Olympia, which meant that Percy had seen more gruesome deaths at sixteen years old than anyone should ever see in their lifetime. One year when Percy was a kid, a tribute from District 4 (the fishing district) used a handcrafted spear to catch fish as his source of food. He ended up dying, but Percy had found it fascinating.

Living with just his mother in the Seam—the poorest part of the poorest district—he had grown up with a hungry stomach. Seeing this kid be so resourceful with a lake and a stick and seeing as there was a forest on the other side of the fence surrounding District 12, Percy had decided to go exploring and had come back with two trout. His mom had been angry with him for leaving the district but happy to have food. She had cooked up one of the fish and traded the other for four loaves of bread. For five years, Percy’s fishing and trading had kept the two of them fed.

Percy thought of that kid now as he waited for a fish to swim by and was sorry to find that he couldn’t recall his name. It was sad, but it was life. The kids go to die and no one remembers them.

Another trout swam by and Percy did not hesitate to stab it through. He pulled up the spear and dropped the fish into the basket. Pleased with what the morning had brought him, Percy sat down on the riverbank to clean his catch in the water. Afterwards, he reached into his pack and pulled out two gallon-sized water canisters. He filled both with river water, watching the algae swirl around. When he got home his mom would boil the water to make it drinkable and they could live off of it until next Sunday when Percy would have the day off to fish again.

“Percy!” He heard a voice call from deep in the trees.

Percy turned to find Grover running towards him. Grover was born with a limp in both his legs, so he never ran unless he absolutely had to. Percy shot up, alarmed, and grabbed his spear, ready to fight off whatever animal (or human) was chasing his friend. “What is it?”

Grover stumbled into Percy, who steadied him. Grover looked up and grinned, opening his palm to show Percy a small handful of dark berries. “I found a new blackberry bush!”

Percy sighed and sat back down, dropping his spear next to him. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Grover was an excellent forager. With the help of a guidebook his Uncle Ferdinand had written for him, he knew which plants were safe to eat and which were poisonous.

“Sorry.” Grover slipped the berries into his bag and sat down on the riverbank next to Percy. He opened the bag for Percy to see. “Look, I found some dandelions in the usual areas, then I found some more of those onions that I was able to trade at the Hob two weeks ago, and then I found this blackberry patch back a few feet from the onions. I don’t know how I never saw it before.”

Percy nodded in approval at his haul, then gestured to his basket. “I got five fish and some water.”

“Oh, thanks for the reminder.” Grover pulled out his own water gallon and stuck it in the river.

Percy watched a brown rabbit scurry out of the woods on the other side of the river. Its nose twitched as it sniffed around in the grass. Percy thought that if he were a more skilled hunter he could kill it with his spear. But he knew Grover, lover of forest animals, wouldn’t like that, and he also knew he wasn’t the best shot whenever he tried to throw his spear. Over the years he had occasionally gotten lucky and when the opportunity presented itself to snag a squirrel or a rabbit, he did. Now was not one of those opportunities.

“I’m really nervous for the Reaping,” Grover admitted quietly.

Percy had been avoiding thinking about it, but today was July 4th—Reaping Day. In a few hours, everyone would gather in front of the Justice Building and Apollo would draw the names of the District 12 tributes for this year’s Hunger Games.

Percy rarely worried about himself being called. When he did, he pushed it away and focused on living in the present. Appreciating what he had. Instead, he spent most of his time worrying about his best friend. Grover’s limp would not do him any favors if he was forced to participate in the Games.

“It won’t be you,” Percy assured Grover, trying to convince them both. “There are too many names for it to be you. Your name’s only in the drawing like six times.”

Every year after a child’s twelfth birthday, their name is added to the Reaping bowl. At sixteen, Percy should have only four slips in the bowl—one for each year he had been eligible for the Hunger Games—but he had twelve. Every year on his birthday, he took out two tesserae in his name, one for him and one for his mom, which added a new entry to the bowl. The tesserae meant a wagon full of grain and his mom was always less than happy that he risked his life to obtain it, but it kept them both alive in the present.

“I’m not too nervous about my name,” Grover said, nervously popping a blackberry in his mouth. “I’m nervous about yours.”

“Don’t be.”

“But what happens if your name is called?” Grover asked, turning his head to look at Percy. “Nobody likes me except for you. They only trade with me at the Hob because you’re with me.”

Percy shook his head and leaned back against his palms in the grass. “Everybody likes you. They wouldn’t trade with you at all if they didn’t. And if I’m gone and they can’t trade with me for fish, who else do they have? You. You’ll be fine if it’s me.”

“No I won’t.” Grover looked close to tears, as he did every time they talked about this. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend.”

“You’re my best friend too,” Percy told Grover earnestly. “And we’ll both be fine. There’s so many other people it could be.”

Other people, like their classmates. The older kids they looked up to or the younger kids who looked up to them. The kid last year was someone a year below them in school. They knew him well enough that watching his brutal death had been painful.

“I just have a really bad feeling about this one,” Grover said, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

Percy sighed and clapped his hand on Grover’s shoulder. “You have a bad feeling every year because this system is fucked up and two kids we know are going to die again.”

“You’re right,” Grover said, still sounding uncertain. He looked at Percy, studying him as if he were watching the Games play out on his face. “But if it is you, you’ll win.”

—

The Reaping, followed by the Hunger Games, tended to be Annabeth’s only public appearances of the year. Mostly, she kept to herself in her house in District 12’s Victor’s Village. She was the only resident in the neighborhood, and she had been for four years. It could be lonely, but she would rather be there than in town. Before her Games, she had lived in a small home there with her father, who taught at the school. She and her father never seemed to get along but when she returned to District 12 as a Victor, she learned that her father hadn’t been able to handle seeing his twelve-year-old daughter in the Games and killed himself before they even began. The faith he had in her.

Annabeth opened her closet and pulled out a simple black dress. She put it on and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked ready for a funeral, and that was how she felt. The six tributes she had mentored in the past had died almost instantly in their respective Games. Being responsible for two lives each time, from the lowest district in a fight to the death for the enjoyment of the Capitol, was too much pressure on her. Especially since all of the districts already hated her, including her own. She understood. She hated herself.

Sometimes she wished she had made a different choice in the Arena. Just one simple choice and maybe he would have won instead. Maybe he would have made a difference in Olympia, as he’d wanted. If anything, he would have made a better mentor than her.

Peacekeepers arrived at her door to escort her to the town square. She kept her head low as she passed through town, but nobody was out of their houses yet anyway so it didn’t matter. People tried to stay inside as long as they could before they were forced to leave their homes to watch the Reaping.

At the Justice Building Annabeth met up with Apollo, the Capitol spokesperson who drew the names of the tributes from the bowl and then chaperoned them to the Capitol, keeping them on schedule throughout the Games.

“Annabeth!” He greeted with that nasally, Capitol accent. He pulled her into a hug. “This look is very boring.”

She looked down at her black dress and then up at his bright yellow dress, hair, and makeup combo. If he was going for ‘sun,’ he was pulling it off. “This look is very bright.”

He laughed a shrill, piercing laugh. “Are you excited to hear who you’ll be mentoring this year?”

“No.”

“I am!”

Apollo and Annabeth were instructed to sit and wait in an office in the Justice Building, just as they did every year. Annabeth tried to make herself comfortable in her armchair, but her mind kept reminding her of the six kids she had already lost to the Games. The next two lives were on their way to the town center now.

Apollo sat in the armchair opposite her. He stared at her until tears blossomed from his eyes. “You’re my winner,” he sniffed. He did this every year.

Annabeth tried not to roll her eyes. Apollo loved to take credit for Annabeth’s victory. She didn’t even think she deserved the credit, much less Apollo.

“I’m so proud of you,” Apollo went on. “You made us all so proud.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to blow his nose.

Annabeth let his words roll right over her and stared at the ashen fireplace. She had not made them all proud, just the Capitol. She remembered how Apollo had paraded her around the districts in huge gowns that were inappropriate on her starved, tiny frame. How that had been the last time she’d smiled, and it wasn’t even real. She couldn’t even soak in her victory then because in every district she entered she saw the faces of the tributes who had died. She saw the glares and the tears of all of the people in the districts, not just the families, and wished she could retreat into her gown like a turtle into its shell. Then they had returned to District 12 and her mentor Chiron had fallen ill. And she’d been alone ever since.

The Peacekeepers opened the door and ushered the pair to the stage. Annabeth took her seat next to Mayor Dare, who was just as tense as every other parent out in the gathered crowd, dreading hearing his daughter’s name. The sea of people in front of them was completely silent, all collectively holding their breath. The Capitol-mandated video on the history of Olympia played, of the revolution in the districts and the subsequent annual Hunger Games as punishment. A revolution against the Capitol was not to happen again, the Games ensured that. The districts knew their place.

Annabeth knew her place.

She kept her eyes down so she didn’t have to look out at the people she had hurt.

“May the odds be ever in your favor!” Apollo said loudly, producing feedback from the microphone and tuning Annabeth back into reality. Apollo was readying himself to pull a name.

“Alright, ladies first!” Apollo tootled, carefully sticking one hand in the fish bowl and stirring the paper slips with his pointer finger. His hand closed around a slip and he slowly pulled it out. Unfolded it. “Hazel Levesque!” He called. He held for applause that never came.

Annabeth’s heart fell as she looked up to see the crowd of twelve-year-olds part around a shell-shocked little girl. She was small, wearing a pale yellow dress and her hair was braided in neat rows. Annabeth imagined Hazel’s mother getting her ready in her best for the Reaping, so that if—gods forbid—she was called, her appearance gave her a good first impression on the Capitol sponsors, giving her a higher chance at surviving. As Hazel made her way up to the stage Annabeth couldn’t help but see herself in the girl’s frightened eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat. The Peacekeepers guided Hazel to stand on the left side of the stage.

“On to the boys!” Apollo crossed the stage and repeated his slow, dramatic name-drawing. As he did so, the microphone experienced more feedback, a sharp cut through the silent air. Apollo pulled out a slip and unfolded it. “Perseus Jackson!”

Someone cried out. Annabeth was glad she was sitting because her heart dropped and she heard blood rushing in her ears. She knew him. She didn’t know Hazel but she knew Percy. They had gone to school together, before she dropped out after the Games.

Annabeth realized then that the scream she had heard had probably been his mom. She knew his mom was a sweet woman, knew that Percy was all she had. Annabeth couldn’t bring herself to look for her in the crowd. As Percy walked up the steps and stiffly shook Apollo’s gloved hand, Annabeth tried not to make eye contact with him. He stopped and stood on the opposite side of the stage as Hazel, wide-eyed and pallid.

Annabeth remembered how she and her fellow tribute had looked standing on the stage after their names had been drawn. They’d looked a bit like Hazel and Percy did now. A young girl and an older boy. An older boy with a rebellious nature. Annabeth knew Percy snuck outside the fence to fish and that worried her. Another boy with an agenda against the Capitol in the Games was the last thing she needed.

As the ceremony ended, Annabeth felt as if everything was happening to someone else that wasn’t her. That she was watching from an outside perspective as a girl with her same frame and outfit and hair was escorted back inside the building with her two new tributes in tow. She didn’t speak to them. She couldn’t. She was already picturing them dead.

Percy and Hazel each went into a room in the Justice Building, where they were allowed to meet with their families one last time. Annabeth hid in the office from earlier while her mind forced her to repeatedly watch the boy from last year be bludgeoned to death with a spiked club. She curled up into herself on the armchair. She could still hear the sound.

Annabeth barely registered when Sally Jackson entered the office and tried to speak with her. She was crying, desperate for her son’s life. The Peacekeepers pulled her away.

Annabeth watched from above as her legs carried her to the train. Apollo wanted her to eat a meal with them but she walked right past him to her sleeping car. She undressed to her underwear and climbed into the bed that she hated, pulling the covers up over her head and listening to the sound of the train. She didn’t feel normal until she was asleep.

Chapter Text

Percy found it a bit insulting to see his mentor, the one who was supposed to keep him alive in the Arena, shove past them to retire to her sleeping car. It wasn’t even dark out. Annabeth had barely acknowledged him and Hazel at all, and their lives were in her hands. That kind of faith from her was just what he needed.

“Don’t mind her,” Apollo said, flicking his wrist in the direction she’d disappeared to. “She always gets into a mood after the Reaping.”

Percy shot a glance at the twelve-year-old girl sitting beside him. Hazel was staring down at the ornate wooden table with a blank expression. He felt about the same. Numb.

“Why don’t you have a bite to eat?” Apollo asked kindly, gesturing to the spread of meats, cheeses, breads, fruits, and various treats in front of them. The most food Percy had ever seen in his life. It should excite him, but all he felt was nausea.

“I don’t really feel like eating right now,” Percy said.

A Capitol servant, a woman with green skin and hair, filled the empty glass in front of him with water. He thanked her and she left without a sound. These women were known as nymphs, a crude nickname for the women who had committed whatever offenses and were forced to forever serve the Capitol wherever necessary. As wait staff, as house staff, as personal entertainment. Percy felt a kinship with her.

Apollo frowned, his hands falling to rest on the table. He seemed personally hurt that Percy had declined food. “Oh. Well, alright.”

Percy looked around the dining car. It was a stark contrast from the life he knew—decorated and polished rather than dull and neglected. Watching the Games on television had always made it seem like the Capitol was a world away from him. An opulent lifestyle and city that was so different from District 12 that it felt unreal. But it was real, and he was on his way to die there.

Apollo stared across the table at Percy and Hazel, and Percy felt like he was being both analyzed and pitied at the same time. Apollo’s clothes—a bright yellow dress with puffy sleeves plus a huge wig that looked like the swirls of frosting on the cupcakes in front of them—were so different from what Percy and Hazel were wearing. Hazel’s dress literally paled in comparison, a dimmer yellow and much simpler design. It was probably the nicest piece of clothing she had. Percy had his one good button-down and his one good pair of pants. Another reminder of the enormous imbalance between the Capitol and the working districts.

“What happens now?” Hazel asked quietly next to Percy.

Apollo brightened (Percy hadn’t thought he could get any brighter) and clasped his hands together. “We’ll arrive in the Capitol tomorrow morning, where you will meet with your stylists. Then, the parade will be in the evening, where you will get to ride into the Capitol on a chariot in your spiffy new outfits and present yourself to the public.”

He paused and looked back and forth between Percy and Hazel’s expressionless faces, waiting for a reaction. Excitement maybe? Percy didn’t feel excited.

Apollo continued on. “At some point when she’s finished sulking, Annabeth will meet with you both to go over your strategies for before and during the Arena. She really is a brilliant strategist, it’s just a shame the others didn’t make it far.” He paused again and then quickly backpedaled, his eyes widening as he looked at them. “But you two will! I’m sure.”

Percy hated his fake confidence. There was no way either of them could win, especially since they were from District 12. They all knew they weren’t going to win, he didn’t need Apollo to pretend otherwise. It just made him feel worse.

“You will have two days of training followed by a quick evaluation on the third day in front of the Gamemakers, where you will have a chance to prove yourself and your skills. You will receive your score out of ten later that evening and then you’ll have a whole day with Annabeth and me dedicated to preparing for your interviews before you make your television appearances with Dionysus the next night.” Apollo beamed at them. “It will be a fun-filled few days!”

‘Fun-filled’ was not exactly how Percy would describe their upcoming schedule. It sounded like torture to him. The Capitol was just playing with their food.

“You really should try to eat something,” Apollo urged, naive concern in his eyes. “You both look a little small, and it’s best to go into the Arena with some meat on your bones.”

Percy despised that sentiment and hated hearing it from a Capitol person who had all the food in the world. But he knew it was somewhat true. Scrawniness wouldn’t get them anywhere, especially against the Career tributes of the higher districts, the ones who got special treatment for working closely with the Capitol and trained specifically for the Games.

Percy could feel Hazel’s eyes on him, and he realized she was looking to him for guidance. He already felt a bit protective of her. If Hazel were to have any chance at surviving, she would need to fuel up over the next few days. So Percy reached for a bread roll and took a timid bite, hoping she would follow his lead. She did, tentatively grabbing an identical roll.

“Good,” Apollo smiled. “The rolls are wonderful. I also recommend the lamb chops.”

Percy and Hazel watched as Apollo loaded his plate with lamb chops, mashed potatoes, a colorful salad, and a few rolls. Percy looked down at the roll he’d bitten into. It was dry in his mouth. There was a glass of what appeared to be water in front of him and he hesitantly reached for it and lifted it to his lips. It tingled in his mouth, shocking his senses. He inspected the liquid and found that there were millions of tiny bubbles inside.

Apollo glanced up from his plate after stuffing a bite of mashed potatoes in his mouth. “Sparkling water,” Apollo explained. “Adequate name, don’t you think?”

Percy stayed quiet. He thought about the two gallons of river water he’d gotten for his mom earlier that morning. Not sparkling, just flat and normal and swirling with dirt and algae. He was comforted by the fact that she had both gallons for herself, which would be enough for her for a while. While she mourned him. He was all she had. She was an orphan. Percy had been her only family since she was sixteen. Percy felt his chest tighten again, physically feeling the pain. The reality was setting in again and he tried to push it away, but he couldn’t stop picturing his mom’s face when he’d stood on the stage.

When she’d said goodbye to him she’d held him close like she had when he was a little boy. She’d tried to put on a brave face for him but he could see right through it. She was terrified. She told him she loved him and that she was proud of him. He didn’t belong to the Capitol, she reminded him, he belonged to her and he would come home safe. It was all a fantasy just to comfort them both but he wanted to believe it. That he could go home to his mom and they would never go hungry again with the money and luxury he won.

He knew that his mom didn’t believe that fantasy, as much as she pretended to. Percy had heard her crying when she’d left the room. He didn’t know what she would do without him. He worried for her.

And he worried for Grover. He’d been sobbing in the crowd. Their worst fear had come to life. It felt like lifetimes ago that he’d been in the woods with Grover. Grover hadn’t been allowed to say goodbye to him because he wasn’t family, but he was the closest thing to a brother Percy had ever had.

Percy was starting to understand how Annabeth could ditch dinner so easily and head to bed. He told Apollo he was getting tired and Apollo nodded and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. He led Percy to his assigned sleeping car and showed him that his closet was full of pajamas and clothes for the morning.

“Your stylist picked out a few options for your arrival tomorrow,” Apollo said, rifling through the hanging clothes. “If you need anything, let me know.”

With that, Apollo left the room. He was the nicest person from the Capitol that Percy had ever met. There was a strange dissonance between Apollo’s position in the Capitol and his demeanor. He was oblivious and ignorantly rude, but he was also kind. Percy wanted to hate him but he was making it difficult.

He changed out of his clothes and put on pajamas from the closet, then climbed into bed. It was soft. He tried to fight the sleep but the exhaustion of the day got to him and he was out within minutes.

—

Annabeth woke up with heavy eyelids and a foggy head. She hadn’t slept well. There had definitely been a nightmare, but she couldn’t remember what had happened in it. She dressed in a simple blouse and pants, pulling her hair back in a loose bun. Her goal was to keep the attention away from herself once they pulled into the Capitol station. Maybe keep the attention away until her tributes were killed and she could go home.

Apollo was waiting for her in the dining hall, an extravagant breakfast laid out on the table in front of him. He was dressed in something similar to what he’d worn the previous day, but a bright, ugly pink. He was slowly and silently working his way through a spinach quiche, his eyes trained on the television on the wall, where the recap of the Reaping was playing.

He looked up as she entered and greeted her with a smile. She pulled out a chair across from him and sat down. A nymph brought her a cup of coffee that she didn’t touch. Apollo gestured to the spread in front of him, but Annabeth shook her head and turned to watch the television.

The host of the Hunger Games, Bacchus, was interviewing the Head Gamemaker and reacting to clips from the previous day, sharing their first impressions and appearances. A nice morning show for the Capitol citizens to view as they drank their coffee and screamed at their nymphs. The Head Gamemaker was new this year, had worked his way up to the top. Annabeth recognized him from her time as a mentor. Recognized his gray eyes and silver hair. She had worked in tandem with him the past few years, watched the Games in the same room. But she did not recognize the name attributed to him on the banner on screen.

“Is that a mistake?” Annabeth asked, turning back to Apollo.

He tilted his head. “Is what?”

“His name is Quintus, is it not?”

Apollo shrugged and carefully cut a bite of quiche with his fork and knife. “He’s changed it to Daedalus this year.”

Annabeth frowned and looked back up at the screen. The culture of the Capitol was lost on her. But as she watched the two men laugh about the young male tribute from District 9, who had tripped up the stairs on his way to the stage, she had a thought. A silly thought, maybe, but one that might help her tributes get farther in the Games than they ever had if she prepared them well enough.

“Have they said anything about the Arena?” Annabeth asked Apollo, finally reaching for a strawberry to nibble on.

Apollo shook his head. “Only that Daedalus is very proud of it.”

Annabeth nodded, thinking. She stared at the screen. Bacchus and Daedalus watched a clip of the two tributes from District 9 standing together on the stage, hugging. They were siblings, drawn at random. Annabeth looked down, picking at the leaves on her strawberry and shaking her head in pity. One of them was bound to die, and realistically, they both would.

Annabeth could feel Apollo’s eyes on her and she glanced up. He had that look like he was going to say something.

She stared at him. “What?”

“The male Career from District 1.”

Annabeth blinked. “What about him?”

Apollo pursed his lips. “Jason Grace.”

Annabeth looked back down at the strawberry in her hands. “Thalia’s brother.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

Annabeth felt her head begin to spin as her nightmare from the night before came back to her all at once. A memory from her Games. The moment she had run. He was just as bad and she had realized it too late, far too late. Annabeth should’ve run the first time she asked, but then maybe he would’ve killed her too. Maybe he would’ve won.

The door to the dining car opened. Annabeth vaguely registered Percy shuffling over and sitting down next to her.

Apollo kicked Annabeth’s foot under the table, hard, and she jumped. “It’s polite to respond, Annabeth.”

Annabeth blinked. “Sorry?”

“I just said good morning,” Percy said, eyeing Apollo.

Annabeth collected herself. “Good morning.”

“How did you sleep, Percy?” Apollo asked politely.

Annabeth turned to the boy next to her, who shrugged. She looked at him for the first time, really looked at him. His eyes were puffy from sleep or from crying or from both. He was scrawny and tall, but there was some muscle there. Annabeth knew he fished outside of the fence and that gave him some experience that might be useful in the Arena. In terms of how she would present her tributes to the Capitol for sponsors, she had no idea what to do with him. With Hazel, she was already thinking of playing up the innocent little girl character. Percy was harder to figure out. She wasn’t sure what would be best for his Capitol popularity, but she was confident in herself that she would think of something.

Hazel stepped into the dining car then, timid and unsure. Percy smiled at her, and she crossed the room to sit across from him. Annabeth watched Hazel watch him grab a muffin and take a bite of it, and then watched her do the same. Annabeth narrowed her eyes at Percy. He knew exactly what he was doing. If these two were already growing close, if he was already making sure she was fed, Annabeth worried about how he would behave in the Arena. He needed to be selfish in the Arena. Or maybe he already was. Gaining Hazel’s trust for his own benefit, like someone else she had once known. That seemed unlikely from what Annabeth knew about Percy already, but she had learned to never be too careful.

Annabeth stayed silent for the rest of breakfast, her mind working on strategies. The train sped closer to the Capitol while Apollo chatted one-sidedly with Hazel and Percy. When they finally rolled into the station, Hazel looked sick. Percy looked disassociated. Outside of the windows, excited citizens cheered and jumped and waved. Annabeth stood, glaring at both of them.

Before the doors opened, Annabeth turned to her tributes. “Smile.”