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fatherforgivethem · 1 year ago

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Hotd meets the Hunger Games 🫢

“I keep wishing I could think of a way to show them that they don’t own me. You know, if I’m gonna die… I wanna still be me.”

Alicent Hightower had never expected for her name to be called at the reaping. She had never expected to talk to Otto Viridis as a crowd laughed at her sweet words. She most certainly did not expect to win her games and make it back home to Distract 4 when she was only sixteen years old. Her life seemed to be full of surprises; and it had not ended there. She had met Criston Cole by chance when she was walking down the docks in town. He had been bringing baskets of fish back to his shop when Alicent had bumped into him. And after a few words of apology, her life had changed once again.

She had taken a job at his shop where he sold the fish he caught. She needed something to do after moving to Victors Village. From there they got to know each other, and it was in that little shop that they fell in love. They had married and before she even knew it, they had three children, soon four, running around the docks.

Her life had continued to change when her son’s name was called at the reaping, when her eldest son at volunteered for him, and when it had happened all over again two years later. She had to watch them again and again go through what she went through, watch the way that they became killers like she did. Her arena had been so different from there’s. It was hot, dead, unlivable. She had only won when she had found poisonous berries that she forced two people to eat. The sound of their cannons going off still rung in her ears. And now it wound ring in her children’s ears for the rest of their lives as well. It was a cycle, and it would take a certain kind of person to break it.

Criston Cole never would have thought that he would have four children and wife that he called his. He hadn’t even expected to live past thirteen, let alone twenty. But he did, and he met the love of his life and they brought the most beautiful children into the world. A world that would take them away from their parents.

He had been forced to watch his two oldest boys kill others to stay alive. On most nights, he was either waking up in a cold sweat, or trying to get Alicent to wake up from one of her nightmares. Since winning their own games, Criston had been traveling down the hall to help Aegon and Aemond as well.

His life was full of horror as he watched those he loved crumble before him. When it would end, Criston would never know. What he did know, was that he would find a way to make it end, all of it.

Aegon had always been told to keep his head down. His mom made it clear that he was to never say the words “I volunteer!”. Those were words for careers, and Aegon and his siblings were not careers; they were the sons and daughter of a victor and a fisherman. And, if his mother could help it, it would stay that way. But it hadn’t; not when Aemond, who had only been thirteen, was called at the reaping.

Aegon had never raised his hand and said words so quick before. It was so quick that it almost felt like a thought that had slipped through his head. But it had happened, and before he knew it, he was being pulled to the stage and asked what his name was. He had tried his best to ignore the look of horror and unshed tears in his mothers eyes.

The capital had loved him. They loved his confidence, the risky jokes he would say. They saw him as a flirt, someone with a dashing smile. It worked, and before Aegon even knew it, people were placing their bets on a fifteen year old Aegon. He had hoped for an arena full of something similar to what he grew up with, maybe trees and water, but when he was shoved into a suit meant to keep him warm, he knew it would be an arena meant to kill. His hopes were crushed even further when he rose to an arena full of snow, a frosty forest, and a frozen and freezing ocean.

He had been the son of a fisherman, and it showed. He had set traps made out of rope that would strangle the other tributes. He had only won the games because he was a good swimmer. And so, when a boy from 2 and Aegon were in the water, Aegon was able to keep the other boy under as he continued to tread above the surface. Aegon had almost died from the cold. When Aegon was on the train back home, he swore he would find a way to make it all end, to stop the games.

Helaena hated each reaping with every fiber of her being. She hated the way that parents cried and children clung to friends and family. She hated seing videos of her mother, who was only a little girl, forcing another child to eat poisonous berries. She hated them more when her brothers were taken away from her, changed and never the same. She hated so many things, and it was because of the games, because of the President. Those however, were words never to be spoken out loud. Not if she wanted to have her family live to see another day.

When Aegon had won, stylists from the capital had come to their home in District 4 to force Helaena into puffy clothes and pin her hair back until her head was pounding. The times that she did love were when the games, the PR that her family did, were over and done with. It was a time that allowed her to sit by the water and sketch her designs. Or where she could bake in the kitchen as Aegon and Aemond taught Daeron how to play chess.

Her name had never been called, and for that she was incredibly grateful. It spared her parents more pain than they needed. It spared herself the pain. So, for now, in between games, she would simply be with her family.

Something was brewing, she could feel it in the air. She could see it when Aegon and their mother went on long walks in areas no one was allowed. Something was about to happen, a storm, and Helaena would try her best to be ready for it.

As soon as his little brothers name was called, Aemond had done the same thing his elder brother had done. He’d volunteered. He had done the one thing his brother had to go to the games for. It was as if they were in a cycle, like someone was testing to see how strong their family could hold. Well, whatever it was, Aemond was falling into the trap like the fish he caught each day.

With Aegon as his mentor, Aemond had felt prepared, something very rare when going into the games. His brother had prepared for almost everything. On how to survive the night if it was cold without attracting other tributes. He even taught Aemond how to appeal to the capital. They had loved his confident, yet shy, demeanor. People had commented on how much of a mix Aemond was with his older brother and mother. With Aemond entering the games, they had become obsessed with his family, and Aemond had tried his best to hide his distaste for their awing behavior.

He had hoped each night before bed that his arena would be nothing like Aegon’s. And when he had risen into an arena full of mountains and flowing waterfalls and rivers, Aemond had tried his best not to smile. Throughout his games, he did all he could to survive. He avoided the cornucopia and instead stole a backpack from a boy from 7. The way that Aemond’s flying knife had logged itself into the boys chest still popped into his head before he went to sleep every night. The boys name had been Luke, and Aemond would always remember that after having to give a speech to the boy’s family.

Aemond had won his games staying up and catching the smoke of the last four tributes. He had climbed high into the trees and had skillfully let his knives drop onto them. He had done it to get home. And when he had been pulled into his brothers arms on the train ride home, he knew that it had been worth it. To survive is to kill.

It had been hard to watch her little boy die by the hands of another child. Because Rhaenyra knew, within her heart, that the boy from 4 had no choice. And if her own son, if Luke, was given the chance, she hoped he would have done the same. She supposed it was better for Luke to go in the beginning than for her to watch him die as he got nearer to the end. Almost close enough to reach out for and touch, before being ripped from her. No, the boy from 4, Aemond was his name, had done her a kindness. However selfish it might have been. She had seen the sadness, the regret, when Aemond had come to district 7 on his victory tour and had given his speech.

She thought that she was given peace after her sons death, but as the games went on, another boy’s name was called. Her boy, her Jace. Another son was taken from her, Though, Jace had fought and he had lived. She didn’t know what was worse, watching her son die, or watching the other live yet die inside of himself. He had never been the same, it had taken months for him to sleep in his own bed. He had, after some months, finally been able to chop wood without having to cover his ears and sit curled into himself on the ground. He wasn’t a victor, he was a victim of the capital’s wicked games.

So, when her son, after coming home from another game of mentoring, had taken her deep into the woods to discuss a brewing rebellion; she had listened, she had agreed. It would end, it had to.

His brother had been killed and now he was sent to do the same thing to other children. Children like him who only wanted to survive. But only one was allowed, and everyone wanted that to be them. Jace included. It had only been two games since his brother had been killed, and now, at eighteen, Jace too had been chosen at the reaping. Not a soul had volunteered. All of the boys around him had stayed quiet, had looked down at the ground. Jace didn’t blame them. If it wasn’t for the shock, Jace would have laughed. It was his last year to get picked, and after seven years of not, he was chosen. What a joke.

His mentor had only taught him one thing, and that was to never team up with others. No matter what they offered, Jace was to refuse them. Luke had made the mistake of being naive, and Jace wouldn’t do the same. He wouldn’t let his mother lose another son. After their father had died, it had only been the three of them. And then Luke had been taken away, and then Jace. Each smile he graced the wretched capital with, he did it for his mom.

The arena he landed in had been a shock. After being able to finally open his eyes against the light, Jace had looked upon a land of sand. Only sand. It had taken more supplies than he wanted to find an oasis. He had been lucky in winning his games. He had gone against what his mentor had said and he had teamed up with others. When the rest of them were asleep, four cannons had gone off, and it had been Jace that had slit the throats of the other two tributes whilst they slept. It had been an easy win, is what the capital said. However, like the majority of other victors, it hadn’t felt like a victory.

It didn’t take much convincing to join the rebellion. After returning home, his mentor had taken him out into the woods, away from prying ears, and had told him everything. How there was a plan, how the famous Hightower family from District 4 was in on it. That after this coming games, they would bring an end to the Hunger Games and the conniving capital once and for all.

….Part 1 of 2

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