"From the Treaty of the Treason:
In penance for their uprising, each District shall offer up a male and female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public "Reaping."
These Tributes shall be delivered to the custody of The Capitol.
And then transferred to a public arena where they will Fight to the Death, until a lone victor remains.
Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games."
x 🗡️x
[Word Count: 3,150]
Reaping Day dawned with the same oppressive stillness that always seemed to blanket District 12.
No birds sang. No wind stirred the coal dust that perpetually coated their world. It was as if Panem itself was holding its breath, waiting for the names that would condemn two more children to the Capitol's entertainment.
He rose before dawn, unable to bear the restless tossing any longer.
His reflection in the small mirror showed subtle dark circles under his cerulean eyes, but also a determined set to his jaw that seemed more Jake Thompson than Jake Carter. Weeks of extra training had sharpened what the forge had already built: his shoulders were broader, his arms more defined, the kind of body that came from real work rather than vanity. If it came to it, if his name was called, he wouldn't be helpless.
The pendant his father had made hung from his neck: a miniature hammer, exquisitely crafted with their family's blacksmith mark etched into the handle. A token to take into the arena, if the worst happened.
Their house was quiet as he slipped outside, but he knew no one was truly sleeping. Reaping Day anxiety affected every family with eligible children, stealing rest and appetite alike.
The streets were empty as he began his now-usual morning run, pushing himself harder than before, as if the extra exertion might somehow burn off the dread. His route took him near the nicer part of town, and he found himself slowing as he passed Mayor Undersee's house.
It was easily the finest home in District 12, with its clean white paint and actual glass windows. The mayor's daughter, Madge, would be inside, preparing for the Reaping like the rest of them, though with far fewer entries in the bowl than most. She'd never needed tesserae.
Jake had never really spoken to Madge over the years. He was a year older and in a different class year but from what he had observed - she was quiet, studious, only befriended Katniss, and known mostly for being the mayor's daughter. In Jake Thompson's memories, he found polite greetings but no real connection.
He shook away the thoughts and continued his run.
Back home, his family was awake, going through the motions of a normal breakfast though none of them had much appetite. Lily was subdued, old enough to understand the gravity of the day even if she couldn't fully comprehend what the Games really meant. Though Jake knew she understood - the children whose names were called never returned home.
"You should eat," his mother urged, pushing a plate of eggs toward him. "Keep your strength up."
He forced himself to eat, knowing she was right. Whatever happened today, going into it on an empty stomach wouldn't help.
At one o'clock, they dressed in their Reaping clothes. His father adjusted his collar while his mother brushed invisible lint from his shoulders with trembling hands, these small gestures their way of maintaining control in an uncontrollable situation.
The walk to the square was silent, each family in District 12 forming solemn processions converging on the center of town. Peacekeepers lined the streets, their white uniforms stark against the gray buildings.
"I'll take Lily to the family section," his mother said as they approached the check-in area. She hugged him tightly, whispering, "Be brave," before pulling away with misty eyes.
His father clasped his shoulder, words failing him entirely.
He joined the line of teenagers waiting to register, the process of finger-pricking and identification as grim and efficient as always. Then he took his place in the seventeen year old boys' section, scanning the crowd for familiar faces.
Peeta stood a few rows ahead, his broad shoulders tense beneath his good shirt. In the girls' section across the aisle, he spotted Katniss, her dark braid hanging down her back, eyes already fixed on the younger girls' section where Prim stood in her first Reaping outfit.
In the dark corner of his mind, Jake was glad Lily didn't have to go through this hell like the other kids.
Jake Carter was raised by a single mother.
Did he miss her? Hell yeah.
Did he want to go back? Desperately.
But he tried not to dwell on things he had no control over.
Though the Thompsons weren't the family he was born into, they became his in every way that mattered. It was surprising. The bond formed so effortlessly with the memories and the weeks he spent with them that he never even noticed when affection turned into something deeper. Until caring about them felt as natural as breathing. And he hoped for their safety and wellbeing the same way he did for his own mother back home.
Near the front of the girls' section, Madge Undersee stood alone in a simple, pretty white dress, her blonde hair tied, tumbling down her back with a matching ribbon. She looked pale but composed, hands clasped tightly in front of her. On stage, Mayor Undersee - what was his first name again? - maintained his blank face, his eyes constantly drifting to his daughter.
The clock struck two, and the mayor stepped to the podium. As he began the annual recitation of Panem's history, the disasters, the uprising, the Treaty of Treason that created the Hunger Games, he found himself looking at the three chairs behind him.
Two were occupied: one by Effie Trinket in her garish pink wig, looking as out of place in their coal-dusted district as a tropical bird in a snowstorm. The other by Haymitch Abernathy, District 12's only living victor, already visibly drunk and disheveled.
Would he be a tribute? Would these be his mentors in a few hours?
Mayor Undersee introduced Effie Trinket, and she pranced to the microphone with disturbing enthusiasm.
"Happy Hunger Games!" she trilled in her Capitol accent. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
The phrase sent a chill down his spine. He'd said it jokingly once, sitting on a couch in another life. Now it was directed at him.
"Ladies first!" Effie announced, crossing to the glass ball containing the girls' names.
Effie's hand dipped into the ball, swirled dramatically, and pulled out a slip of paper. The entire district seemed to inhale collectively as she returned to the microphone, unfolded the slip, and read clearly:
"Margaret Undersee!"
A shock ran through the crowd.
Madge. The mayor's daughter.
He turned rigid. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't this.
On stage, Mayor Undersee half-rose from his seat, face drained of all color.
Madge herself stood frozen in place, her composed expression shattered by genuine shock. Then she masked it as the crowd parted silently as she made her way to the stage.
No one volunteered. Of course they didn't. Who would volunteer for the mayor's privileged daughter?
What the fuck is happening?
He watched in disbelief as Madge mounted the steps, her white dress gleaming in the sunlight. She looked pale and insubstantial against the dark Justice Building behind her. But she didn't cry. Nor showed any signs of breaking down.
Jake released a lungful of breath he didn't even know he was holding.
"Well, isn't this exciting!" Effie gushed, oblivious to the stunned atmosphere. "The mayor's own daughter! What an honor it is!"
Mayor Undersee looked as though he might collapse. Jake couldn't blame him. He thinks he might collapse himself.
"And now for the boys!" Effie continued, moving to the second glass ball.
His heart hammered against his ribs. He could feel it.
Effie's hand plunged into the glass ball, digging deep before extracting a single slip. The sound of her heels clicking back to the microphone was deafening in the silence.
She smoothed the paper slip and read the name clearly:
"Jake Thompson!"
He took a shaky breath.
Despite all his preparations, all his suspicions, hearing his name actually called sent a wave of vertigo through him. He'd known this was likely coming, but the reality still hit like a punch to the face.
For a moment, he couldn't move. Then he felt eyes on him, the crowd parting slightly as people turned to stare.
"Jake!" Lily's scream cut through the silence, high and terrified.
"No! JAKE!"
He turned to see her breaking away from his mother, her small body darting through the crowd toward him. He moved towards her, catching her as she flung herself against him.
"You can't go!" she sobbed, clinging to his waist.
"You promised! You promised you wouldn't leave me! You promised!"
Peacekeepers were already moving in their direction. He knelt quickly, trying to pry her clinging hands away from his shirt, and meeting her tear streaked face.
"Lily, listen to me," he said, keeping his voice steady despite the cameras and eyes. "I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me? Can you be brave and take care of Mom and Dad?"
She shook her head violently, tears streaming down her face. "No! I don't want you to go! You can't!"
The Peacekeepers reached them, moving to separate them forcibly.
"Don't touch her," he growled, his voice quiet but firm, rising to his full height and positioning himself between them and his sister.
For a second, it seemed they might drag them both away, but then his father appeared, gently pulling Lily back.
"I've got her," he said, his voice breaking slightly.
He knelt once more and pressed his forehead to Lily's. "Go with Dad. I'll see you later."
Then he stood, straightened his shoulders, and turned toward the stage. He was aware, distantly, of how he must look to the cameras. He contained his expressions. Walking straight towards what might be his death with his jaw set and his back straight. He just couldn't let Lily's image of him be a brother who crumbled. As he walked, he could hear her sobs behind him. His foot hit the first step to the stage, and he looked up to find Madge watching him, her green eyes intense with the same shock and anger he felt.
"Well!" Effie Trinket said, her cheerfulness now strained. "Come along, dear!"
He joined them on stage, standing beside Madge as Effie introduced them with flourish.
"The tributes from District 12: Margaret Undersee and Jake Thompson!"
Mayor Undersee, as white as his daughter's dress, rose shakily to read the Treaty of Treason, though his voice trembled so badly that parts were nearly incomprehensible.
"Shake hands, you two," Effie instructed when he finished.
He turned to Madge, extending his hand. Her fingers felt ice-cold as they gripped his. Up close, he could see she was fighting back tears, her chin raised in a show of dignity that couldn't quite mask her terror.
"We're going to be okay," he said quietly, low enough that only she could hear. It wasn't the smartest strategic move. He had no reason to promise her anything. But she was standing up there looking like the ground had opened up beneath her, and he couldn't not say it.
Something flickered in her eyes. Not belief, exactly.
But acknowledgment.
They were hustled into the Justice Building, each led to separate rooms for their goodbyes. The room they placed him in was the richest he'd seen in District 12: plush carpets, velvet-covered furniture, thick curtains.
He paced the small space, trying to process how drastically things had changed.
The door burst open, and his family rushed in: mother, father, and Lily, her face still streaked with tears.
Lily flung herself into his arms again, sobbing. "You promised you wouldn't go away!"
"No, kiddo," he corrected gently, kneeling to her level. "I promised I'd try to come back. And I will."
His mother embraced them both, her body trembling. "You can win," she whispered fiercely. "You're strong, you're smart, and you prepared as much as you could."
His father joined their huddle, his strong arms encircling all of them. "Remember everything we've taught you these past weeks," he said, voice rough with emotion.
He nodded, absorbing their advice, their love, their fear.
"The hammer," his mother said, touching the pendant still hanging around his neck. "Keep it with you in the arena. A piece of home."
"I will," he promised.
"Come back to us," Lily pleaded, her small face serious beyond her years. "You have to come back or I'll hate you forever!"
"I'll try my best," he grinned a bit, unable to promise more. "And Lily? I need you to be brave while I'm gone. Help Mom and Dad. Can you do that for me?"
She nodded solemnly, straightening her shoulders in an unconscious imitation of his stance. "I can. I'm big enough now."
He patted her head as Thomas pulled something from his pocket, a small pouch. "Your mother prepared this," he said, pressing it into his hand. "Hide it in your clothes if you can. Basic medical supplies. Might help in the arena."
He tucked it away, knowing the Gamemakers would likely find and confiscate it before the Games began, but touched by the gesture nonetheless.
"Time's up," a Peacekeeper announced from the doorway.
"Jake!" Lily cried, clinging tighter to him.
His father gently pried her away. "We have to go, Lily-flower. Jake needs to prepare now."
His mother cupped his face in her hands, her eyes boring into his. "You can win," she repeated. "You're not alone in there. Remember that. We love you."
With a final desperate embrace, they were ushered out, Lily's cries echoing down the hallway as the door closed behind them.
He sank onto the velvet couch, emotionally drained. He'd expected to be chosen, had prepared for it, yet the reality was still overwhelming.
To his surprise, the door opened again minutes later. He expected maybe Peeta, coming to offer encouragement.
Instead, Mayor Undersee himself entered, his face ravaged with grief and desperation.
"Mr. Mayor," he said, rising.
He waved him back to his seat, "Call me Richard," then sat heavily beside him, staring at his trembling hands.
Oh, so that's his name.
"I knew..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I knew when they took interest in you at the Tour that something might happen. But Madge..."
He shook his head, unable to continue.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said, not knowing what else to offer.
"She has no chance," he said, the words spilling out now. "My Madge, my beautiful girl. She's smart, yes, but she's never had to fight, never gone hungry, never..." He looked up at him, his eyes wild with a father's desperation. "She won't survive the first day."
He started to say something reassuring, but he gripped his arm suddenly, his fingers digging in with surprising strength.
"When it comes down to it," he said, his voice breaking, "when it's just the two of you, or she's suffering... I beg you, show her mercy. Make it quick. Don't let her suffer more than she has to."
The request stunned him. This father, asking him to kill his daughter humanely when the time came. It was both horrifying and heartbreakingly rational. The kind of calculation this world forced on people.
"Mr. Undersee," he began carefully, trying not to choke on the emotion rising in his throat.
"Please," he begged, tears now streaming down his face. "I know it's an impossible thing to ask, but she's my only child. My little girl. If someone has to... I'd rather it be someone who might care enough to make it painless."
He stared at him, this broken man begging for his daughter's merciful death, and made a decision that surprised even him.
"I won't kill Madge," he said firmly.
His head snapped up, confusion replacing grief for a moment.
"I won't kill her," he repeated. "I'll protect her."
"You can't both survive," he said, shaking his head.
"Maybe not," he agreed. "But I can make sure she makes it as far as possible. I can teach her, protect her, keep her alive."
"Why would you do that?" he asked, genuine bewilderment in his voice.
He thought about that for a moment. The honest answer was complicated, tangled up with things he could never explain to him. But the simplest version was also the truest.
"Because it's the right thing to do," he said simply. "And because no father should have to beg for his daughter's merciful death."
He stared at him, searching his face for deceit and finding none.
"You're serious," he said finally, something like hope flickering in his eyes.
"I am," he confirmed. "I'll do everything in my power to keep Madge alive. That's my promise to you."
For a moment, he thought he might collapse in relief. Instead, he straightened, suddenly looking more like the official he'd seen presiding over district events.
"Then I have something for you," he said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small velvet pouch. "For your token."
"I already have one," he said, touching the hammer pendant at his neck.
"Keep that too," he said. "But take this as well. It might help both of you. Good luck charm."
Curious, he opened the pouch and tipped the contents into his palm. It was a gold pin: a small bird in flight, enclosed in a circle. The mockingjay pin.
"It was my sister-in-law's," Mayor Undersee said quietly. "She wore it into the Games, many years ago. Madge has one just like it."
He closed his fingers around the pin, feeling its weight. "Thank you. I'll keep it safe."
"Time," called the Peacekeeper from the door.
The mayor stood, composing himself with visible effort.
"Mr. Thompson," he said formally, though his voice still trembled slightly, "District 12 is counting on you."
As he left, he examined the pin more closely. The bird, wings spread mid-flight, felt alive in his palm. He had no more visitors. When the Peacekeepers finally came to escort him to the waiting car, he found Madge already there, her face composed but her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Effie Trinket sat between them, chattering about the honor they'd been given and the wonders that awaited them in the Capitol.
As the car pulled away from the Justice Building, he caught a final glimpse of District 12: the dusty square, the worn buildings, the coal-streaked faces of people returning to their homes, relieved that their children had been spared for another year.
His gaze met Madge's across Effie's elaborate pink wig. Her green eyes were still frightened, but something else showed there too: a quiet determination that he hadn't expected.
The pin was heavy in his pocket. The hammer pendant warm against his chest. And the road ahead stretched out before them.