Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun crept into the room, lighting it up in a warm glow though the thin green curtains. Wind blew gently through the window, the air was fresh and warm with the summer. It wasn’t often that Ryen got to sleep in, but today, today he could rest, sprawled out over the bed, like the dead. His long dark brown hair was a disheveled mess from tossing and turning all night, cascading over his pillow and over the bed.

“Wake up!”

Ryen is startled awake as his sister swings down onto his bed from the top of their bunk bed. He jerks up and groans as light hits his eyes, rubbing his eyes and grumbling. He takes a look at his sister, Millie, who wears a colorful skirt, blues, yellows, and reds, a belt, a shirt with intricate embroidery, and beaded jewelry. Her hair is done up in two braids tied with ribbons. She’s dressed in all her best clothing, for her third ever reaping. She will be fine, Ryen reckons, her name should only be in the bowl three times, he’s made sure of it. Ryen sighs and brushes his hair out of his face.

“Morning,” his voice is groggy as he pushes Millie off him and rolls off the bed.

“Pa says to hurry up, we gotta leave soon,” Millie puts her hands on her hips.

“Whoa, give me a second to wake up,” he groans at his lackluster wake up call. “And Pa doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about,” he grumbles at the mention of his dad, moving past Millie and to his dresser, “the ceremony doesn’t even start till twelve”.

Ryen digs through the dresser, pulling out his finest clothes. Beat up dress pants adorned with a red patch that are too short, they were the right length when he was fourteen, but he’s grown, now standing at an impressive six foot two. The worst part is that they don’t even fit at the waist, too large, that’s what he gets for being so tall he guesses. Along with an old dress shirt from his grand-pop and a dull blue vest his Ma embroidered with yellow beads, resembling the wheat fields, gifted to him after he began working in the fields in place of his father.

“It’s already past ten!” Millie protests.

“Oh shit,” Ryen perks up.

They live outside of town, way outside of town, past the ugly concrete grain mills and golden wheat fields, nestled right outside the last field with the other field workers. It’s a smaller community, only around a hundred people, houses all corralled together in a fenced in dip in the hill, the Burrow as they call it. They’re guarded with their very own Peacekeeper station, a big ugly concrete building that stands within the fence, always able to see everyone, so they don’t run off, his father used to tell him. They’re too far out to get to the town school, so within the Peacekeeper’s station they host a small classroom for the Burrows’ children, not that Ryen learned much from them, they couldn’t care less about teaching and Ryen dropped out at fifteen, he didn’t have time anymore after he started working full time manually maintaining the fields. Everyone in the Burrow looks similar to him, straight brown hair that some of them keep real long, tradition his grandpop told him, but it’s not truly necessary, tan skin, and sad muddy eyes.
It takes hours to get to town, by walking, which is normally what they do when they need to get to town. However on special occasions, like Reaping Day, the Peacekeepers drive them into town. He didn’t normally sleep so long, Ryen needed to get ready. He grabs his clothes and stands up.
“Well get out of my way, I gotta get ready,” he tells Millie who stands in the way of the door.

“Sorry!” she shuffles out of the way.

Ryen exits their room and turns into the washroom, closing the door behind him. Ryen finds his mother has gotten the water ready for him in the tub. He stips out of his sleeping clothes, a ratty old shirt and shorts, and steps into the bath. He scrubs his body and brushes out and washes his hair in the soapy water. Ryen dries himself with an old towel and looks at himself in the mirror, his skin is slightly burnt by the sun and has acne blemishes, it’s not very appealing, and his eyes look ugly as ever, with the odd section that’s dark brown, instead of the normal muddy green. Whatever, not much he can do he supposes, so instead he focuses his attention onto his hair, brushing it out, making sure it looks real good for the Reaping, his name is in the bowl twenty-six times so if his name is called, he at least wants to look halfway decent. Finally he pulls on his clothes, bucking his belt tight so his pants don’t fall and slips on his grand-pop’s old ring, a hearty silver with a turquoise and red stone in the middle. Pulling on his boots, he steps out of the wash room and into the living space.

His Ma and Pa sit together at the table with Millie, they’re eating a very late breakfast.

“Want any?” his Pa asks.

Ryen looks at what they have, it’s those dry biscuits made from the grain supply gifted to them each year from his tesserae.

“I’m not hungry,” he sits down with them at the table.

His parents are dressed in the clothing they wear each year, all black with little fancy colors or beading, same as the year before. Millie is chewing on her biscuit as it crumbles onto her lap. His Pa grumbles something about not getting food on her nice clothes, and Millie brushes off the crumbs.
“You sure?” she asks halfway through a bite, Ryen just nods and Millie grabs his biscuit from the big plate. He can never eat before the Reaping, or any big event for that matter, they’ve learned to get used to it.

As they finish up Ryen can hear everyone in the surrounding houses start moving outside, ready to be picked up. There's a beat of silence around the table, then his Ma sighs, “time to go”.
Ryen stands up from the table and walks over to his father who struggles out of his chair and hands him his cane. Pa gladly accepts it and they begin to walk out of the house.

The problem with living so far away from town is that it’s impossible to get anywhere. Ryen learned this the hard way when he was fifteen and his father was crippled in an incident with one of the big machines that help harvest the wheat, leaving his left leg totally useless and unable to carry any of his weight. He couldn’t work, and Ryen’s Ma had to quit her job to take care of him, that’s when Ryen dropped out of school and began working full time, when he started taking out four tesserae a year, rather than two, to keep his family afloat, because when you lose two sources of income at once, turns out, you get real hungry. His Ma tries to help, making beautiful beaded clothing and jewelry when she can, which Ryen takes down to town on Sundays, his only day off, to try and sell at the markets, walking over seven miles into town takes a long time. He’s just glad they don’t have to walk for the Reaping, Pa says they used to, but lucky times changed, or they probably just didn’t like everyone from the Burrow showing up gross and sweaty for the cameras.

The family makes their way outside and into the Burrows center, Ryen helps support his Pa as they walk.

“Ryen!” a familiar voice calls out to him, his best friend Bailey Swift Bird.

He’s wearing his best, a dull green dress shirt that compliments his warm brown eyes with dark brown pants and his belt with the bronze buckle he was gifted for his sixteenth birthday that he charashis more than anything. It was carefully crafted by the Caddell's, the best metal workers in Nine, and keeping with the Swift Bird’s name sake is engraved with a White-tailed Kite. He looks handsome, with his shaggy honey brown hair swooped back and his skin lightly tanned. Ryen smiles, and waves to him. His father turns to him.

“Go with Bailey,” he says, “ we’ll meet with you later”. And elbow him, stabling himself so Ryen can stand with Bailey.

Ryen jogs over to him, “your old man let you go?” Bailey asks.

“You know he doesn’t care where I’m at, well, long as I’m back home by dusk”.

“I know, I know,” Bailey rolls his eyes, “I haven't seen you in a second, it’s good to finally see your face again”.

Ryen sighs, ever since he’s started working in the fields he hasn’t had as much time as he’d like to spend time with others. It seemed like every night they used to sneak out of the gates together and just talk, or run around, past the wheat fields, past district Nine’s boundaries and to a small river they would mess around in, dunking each other in during warm summer nights, same one Ryen used to take Millie out to, same one his Pa showed him when he was a boy.

“I can say the same about you”.

He wishes it was under different circumstances, not Reaping Day, when he knows both their odds. They’re not great, no one's odds are great in the Burrow, no one who lives outside of town's odds are any good. That’s why almost every year Ryen watches them drag out two Burrow children to the slaughter, and if not a Burrow kid, then a Millhouse kid, who live just outside of town, by Nine’s grain mills. No one ever wins either, all killed brutal, bloody, and fast in the first few minutes of the games, or if they’re lucky, later down the line when the careers find them. The last time anyone from Nine won was twelve years ago, a woman named Harvest Miller, a Millhouse girl, and eleven years before her, Max Wheart, a town boy, Nine’s only victors. He knows Bailey as his odds aren’t in their favor, they’ve racked up more tesserae then he cares to count.

And as if Bailey can tell what he’s thinking, he places a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, when this is done, let’s leave, for the night, maybe down to the river, or we could go to the Speakeasy again?”
He flashes a goofy smile and Ryen remembers the first and last time they snuck out to the Speakeasy, Nine’s most popular hidden bar, though it’s not much of a secret, the Peacekeepers just pretend they don’t see it, probably because they’re also patrons. It’s hidden behind a bakery front, ask for half a loaf of rye bread with a few coins and you’re in. Last time they went they were sixteen and both got really wasted, they ended up crashing in an alleyway, that night walking back to the Burrow that hungover might have been the worst feeling in the world and his Pa had been so angry at him, but it was better with Bailey, everything always is.

“That’s a deal”.

“I knew you wouldn’t say no”.

“I never say no to you”.

“I know, that’s why I knew you wouldn’t say no”. He wraps his arm around Ryen’s shoulders and sways with Ryen. out of the corner of his eye, Ryen can see Bailey’s mum give them a look, the one she always does, like she disapproves of Bailey and his friendship, she never did like how close they were.
Ryen didn’t dwell on it too long though, as the big ugly Peacekeeper vans rolled into the Burrow, bright white and looking out of place among the Burrows rickety old wooden houses with fraying dull paint and dirt paths connecting one another, ready to talk them to town. Everyone waited in lines to get corralled into the vans, and Ryen now wishes he had said goodbye to Millie before he had run off, as he gets shoved into the van by one of the Peacekeepers with the butt of his rifle.

“Move it!”

Ryen huffs and staggers into the van behind Bailey, shuffling to the middle of the van with him and sitting beside him, squished together on small sets with the others. They all sit in a tense silence as Peacekeeper slams the back doors of the van shut, locking them in. Bailey’s hand grabs the lower half of Ryen’s thigh as they do so, startled, but doesn’t bother to move it after the fact, Ryen doesn’t mind, placing his hand over Bailey's. Something about this year's Reaping feels wrong, always does really, but this year especially so, must be the amount of times their names sit in that bowl. They hold hands for the rest of the ride, Ryen feels less alone that way.
Through the small window, Ryen can see the wheat fields roll past them, in a yellow blur as the sun beats down on them. As the afternoon hits, the sun grows unbearably hot, shining bright down onto Nine.

When the vans stop they are ushered off and into the town square, there is no shade from the sun on this hot July day and Ryen can feel himself begin to sweat as they are walked over and the kids are corralled into lines for the Reaping, one after the next. When it comes his turn to be checked in they prick his finger and smear his blood on the sheet. He can’t tell if it’s just his nerves but this year it felt sharper than the last.

As he’s let into the pen and finds his way to the section for the boys sixteen to eighteen, he spots Millie in the crowd, already stood with the fourteen to fifteen-year-old girls. She’s fiddling with the ribbons in her hair nervously, and as if sensing someone’s watching her, looks around and sees Ryen, she looks petrified. ‘You’re okay’ he mouths to her, really she should be, her name’s only in the bowl three times, it’s a long shot for her to be reaped. She just gives him a sad look and nods as he takes his place beside Bailey.

The Burrow are some of the last to shuffle in as the clock strikes twelve and the Reaping ceremony begins. Carmina Finch walks onto the stage, heels clicking on the old wooden stage and looking gouty as ever. Wearing a putrid bright green dress that is too open at the top and cinched too tight around the waist by a golden corset, where it then puffs out into an awkwardly length skirt, paired with tall golden heels and excessive amounts of golden jewelry. Her hair is done up in an ugly and tight bun, dyed a hideous green, and her face is obscured with a golden veil, but Ryen can tell that underneath her face is a powdery white with green and gold makeup.

She taps on the mic and it rings out in a high pitched whine.

“Whoops, sorry everyone,” she laughs, her voice just as shrill as the mic’s ringing, then she starts, “I would like to welcome you all to the Reaping for our sixty-eight annual Hunger Games!” She chirps, smiling wide. “But first, we have a very important message from the Capitol!”

The screen by the side of the stage lights up, displaying the same video they play each year. President Snow’s voice drones in his year, the same dull excuse about the war and glory each and every year for as long as Ryen could remember. When the video finishes, the national anthem begins to play.

Gem of Penem
Mighty city
Through the ages you shine anew

We humbly kneel
To your ideal
And pledge our love to you!

Gem of Penem
Heart of Justice
Wisdom crowns your marble brow

You give us light
You reunite
To you we make our vow

Gem of Panem
Seat of power
Strength in peacetime, shield in strife

Protect our land
With armoured hand
Our Capitol
Our life

The words blast through the crowd, echoing off of the brick and concrete walls of the shops at the center of town, not one voice, aside from Carmina, can be heard as she sings along.

“Wonderful!” she cheers, “now, it’s time for the Reaping to begin!” Her heels click as she walks over to the bowl of girls' names, “Our female tribute for the sixty-eight annual Hunger Games is-” she draws out her words as she digs her hand through the bowl and plucks out a name, opening the slip, “Calla O’Hare!”

The crowd falls silent as Carmina looks around for the girl, within the girls section the crowd begins to part around the girl. The screen that was playing President Snow’s message now pans across the crowd and onto the girl, Calla. She looks no older than fourteen, a frail girl, with dark reddish-brown hair and lots of freckles, her big brown eyes are widened in abject terror as she looks around the crowd. She wipes her shaking hands down her ruffly green skirt and walks up onto the stage. She looks like a Millhouse girl. Ryen can see her fidget as she stands on stage, looking across the crowd trying to find someone. The camera pans to the Nines two victors, Harvest and Max, they look upset, although everyone gets upset when someone so young is Reaped, then just like that, the camera pans to a boy around Ryan's age, with the same hair and freckles, her brother, he’s mortified as his mouth hangs agape and her looks up at Calla, standing on stage alone, tribute for the sixty-eight annual Hunger Games.

“Spectacular!” Carmina sings, patting Calla on the shoulder, then wipes her hand on her skirt, turning to the bowl of boy’s names, “Now for the men! Our male tribute for the sixty-eight annual Hunger Games will be-” her hand digs around the bowl, and Ryen and feel as all the boys tense up around him, she pulls out a slip of paper and pulls it open, “Ryen Wanless!”

Chapter Text

The whole world falls into a deafening silence, it seems as if everything around him freezes, he can feel as Bailey grabs onto his wrist and sees out of the corner of his eye as he turns to look at Ryen, pure terror etched on his face. But all Ryen can do is look ahead, as a sense of dread fills his whole body, sitting heavy in his chest and sinking down, down, down. Something catches in his throat and he thinks he might vomit as his head spins. But in his peripheral vision he can see his face on the big screen, he needs to move, before they make him, so he takes a deep breath and takes a step forward, pulling his arm from Bailey's grasp and he watches himself as he walks up onto the stage from the screen.

He can feel everyone's eyes on him as he walks down the aisle and onto the stage, hear as his boots click on the stage, he’s aware of every movement he makes, his long hair that’s slightly out of place, the blank look of terror on his face. He’s always dreaded the idea of looking out at the crowd like this, and he stands on the stage, he catches a glimpse of Millie who's broken down into silent tears, and his parents who have the same look of terror as Calla’s brother, and Ryen can’t help but wonder who’s on the big screen right now.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the sixty-eight annual Hunger Games!” Carmina pulls Calla and him close by her side “Calla O’Hare!” she grabs and raises Callas arm, “and Ryen Wanless!” Grabbing and raising his arm up to the sky.

They stare out into the crowd one last time, before Carmina pulls them backwards and they are ushered inside of the District justice building, an old wood and brick building that stands behind the stage. The inside is old, wooden, and dusty, with dim lighting. And as they are both shoved into two rooms, for their goodbyes, he can hear Carmina’s shrill voice carry through the hall, complaining loudly about her hands being dirty and needing a sink to scrub them off. Ryen stands silently in the room, looking at the old pattern rug. The room would be cozy, if it were under different circumstances, with a wooden desk, leather couch, and photographs of the plains sitting on the walls. There’s also a window, and for a moment Ryen wonders if he might be able to jump out and book it, but finds it’s sealed shut, they must have predicted someone would try that.

Ryen hears the door open and whipped around, it’s a Peacekeeper.

“Who would you like to see?”

Ryen pauses, starting mouth slightly ajar, “uh-”

“You may have two groups of visitors, choose now, or you will have no visitors”.

“My family!” He stutters, “my sister and my Ma and Pa, please, and Bailey, Bailey Swift Bird, for my second group!”

The Peacekeeper turns back around and closes the door, leaving Ryen back in complete silence. He wonders if he messed up as he stands by the window, again checking to see if maybe he can break it, but the glass is sturdy, he’s trapped. It feels like an eternity has passed as he stands in the room, alone, maybe his request didn’t go through and they won’t be letting him see his family or Bailey. It’s beginning to feel hopeless, as if they really will just send him away without goodbyes, until he hears the door open. His head darts towards the door, and his family stands in the doorway.

“You have three minutes,” a voice calls from outside the door.

Millie runs towards him, and he embraces her in a big hug as she cries into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” he mumbled to her, but he too can feel tears begin to rise up to his eyes and trickle down his face. He looks up, to see his parents looking at him, his Ma’s hands are to her mouth, and tears streaming down his Pa’s face. He gets up and pulls his Ma and Pa into the hug.

So they stand embracing each other as silent tears drip down their faces. And just like that, their time is up. They pull away from each other, eyes red and puffy, “I love you, okay, no matter what, just please remember I love you”. He calls to them as they are pulled from the room.

The last thing he sees of them is Millie's face looking back at him, tears running down her face, a look of fear on her face, “please come back!” She calls to him, “please!” As the Peacekeepers drag her way by force. And just like that they’re gone.

Then the door swings open again, it’s Bailey.

“You have three minutes,” the door shuts behind him.

“Bailey!” Ryen pulls him into a hug that he gladly accepts.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into Ryen's shoulder.

“There’s nothing to be done, it’s okay,” he pulls back to look Bailey in the eyes. They’re watering, but still look as beautiful as ever, as the sun from the window hits them, giving them a golden look.

“I know, I’m just sorry”.

“I know, and it’s okay, I’m going to be fine”.

Bailey cracks a sad smile, “that’s what you said after you fell off the stool at the Speakeasy and got absolutely wasted”.

“And I was fine wasn’t I?”

“Yes, yes you were, you’re going to be okay”.

“Yup,” Ryen just gives him a sad smile and they stand together in a somber silence, until it’s almost time to go.

“Ryen, just please come back, okay,” He looks into Ryen’s eyes, “I love you, and don’t you forget that”. Bailey pulls Ryen in and kisses him gently on the cheek. Then, just like that, the Peacekeepers whisks him away before he can get a word in.

He feels his face grow red, and a strange sense of sorrow fills his body, because why now? Why not any other time? When he wasn’t about to be sent to the slaughter like cattle. But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it as Peacekeepers open the door and enter the room, grabbing Ryen by his arms.

“Time to go,” one huffs in a gruff voice, dragging him out into the hall.

They escort him through the justice building with two Peacekeepers by his side, restraining his arms. He can see Calla behind him as they are taken out a side door, and to a car which he is shoved into, Calla by his side. Carmina is in the passenger seat picking at her nails, almost like she was trying to get dirt out from under them. When they are forced into the backseats she perks up.

“Lovely, you’re here! I was starting to think you’d gotten lost,” she chirps, “or worse, ran off!” She looks back at Ryen. “Well, I’m sure you’re quite frazzled with everything that’s going on, don’t be! I just want to tell you congratulations, not many are as lucky as you two! See, think of this as an opportunity to make your lives better,” the car begins moving, “looks like you two could really need it!” she eyes their clothes. “Anyways, enough rambling, right now you’re being taken to the train where you will begin your journey to the Capitol! Before we get on, I want to give you some reminders about etiquette while you’ll be on the train, and more importantly, while you’re in the Capitol, see I’m sure it’s normal for you, here in the Districts, but in the Capitol, we’re more… refined”.

Ryen can’t help but roll his eyes, an etiquette lesson really, like District Nine is some sort of backwards, uncivilised society of grimy farmers. Ryen stares out the window, as he tunes out Carmina’s unless rambling about how to be civilised or something. He watches the fields pass by him, the fields he will never see again, until the car comes to a stop at the train station. The car doors are yanked open and Ryen and Calla are hulled out of the car. Carmina hops out of the car and ushers them into the train while making sure not to touch them. Ryen can tell it’s going to be a long ride.