#you could read this as Serah being first tribute

[pen-of-roses]

WHG Prompt 2-The Reaping

WHG Tag List: @concealeddarkness13 @ratracechronicler @maple-writes @clocksandchaos @knmartinshouldbewriting @forthesanityofsome (let me know if you want to be added!)

Serah Reide

“Evan, why are there three bowls on the stage?”

It was still a roar in their ears as they leaned forward to ask him over the murmur of the growing crowd. There were still a lot of people–a lot of children–in front of them in the line. And it only kept growing. Too many of them were familiar faces they’d cared for over the years and specifically that morning.

“Didn’t you hear?” Lillian asked, appearing seemingly out of nowhere next to her and linking their arms. She wore the same dress, with her black hair up in a braid, similar to her own brown hair. But her usual smile was replaced with a grim expression and dark bags under her eyes.

“Hear what?” Evan asked, though he only inclined his head back rather than turn. His sister was only a few steps in front of him, and like the past couple years, he wouldn’t take his eyes off her until all of this was over.

“Some of the Districts are required to send in three this year.”

“What?” He said at the same time they said, “That’s against their own rules!”

“You think they care?” Lillian hissed back. “They’re sending children to their deaths for fun every year, and they raise and lower the ages whenever they want. We’re not even supposed to be here.”

Someone started to cry near them, and they sent Cast up her arm to stop her from saying anything else.

Now wasn’t the time nor place for that. Not with everyone already well aware of what was about to happen and the heavy blanket of fear covering everything from the stage outwards.

The Dread was louder and louder with every step forward. They barely even felt the prick to their finger because of it. 

Evan’s mouth moved, but his words were lost in the rushing whispers. Still, they could guess the general meaning. Stay safe, don’t do anything reckless, meet up afterwards in the usual place. 

They nodded and squeezed his hand. 

The weight of what was coming kept Lillian from even trying to talk. Instead, they both walked through the crowd to the proper spot on autopilot. Every Caster being required to be in the same outfits helped with that. But even being among the familiar faces, people she’d known for years and considered more of family than most considered their blood relatives, couldn’t stop the roar. If anything, it made it worse.

It would be over soon.

And then it would repeat again next year. And the year after. And the year after. 

And there was nothing she could do.

The officials and victors took the stage, and it began. Just like every year.

Except more would die this year than normal.

There was nothing they could do.

Stopping the ceremonies wouldn’t prevent anyone from being called. And even if it did, there were still all the other Districts’ children, and it would still happen again later. They couldn’t save everyone.

The Dread was almost deafening now as the escort stepped up to the mic. Even if there were words to be heard in those thunderous whispers, there would be no hope of understanding them at this volume. 

And besides that, there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Warmth licked up her arm. For the second time in one day, she’d accidentally called Cast. If any Peacekeepers saw it, they’d take it as an act of aggression, and act with extreme prejudice given that it was at the Reaping of all events.

One of the victors turned towards them, possibly to point them out.

 Lillian grabbed her hand to cover it with a too tight squeeze to ground her. Focus on that instead. 

Focus, and she just might make it through this.

Focus on the powdery white face from the makeup and mint green lips and hair on screen. Try to make out what’s being said. Remember the escort's name. Focus on the way the dress moves and shines with her steps. Try to count the number of names in the–the number of gems on her sleeve. Remember which year every victor won. Focus on the new face on–

They knew that face.

They hadn’t heard the name, but they knew that face.

“Thank you, Miss Reide…I’m still scared though.”

Edel walked up to the stage on wobbly legs. 

It was his first year and he had sat in her kitchen maybe two hours early, trembling. It was his first year and she had told him his name wouldn’t be picked. It was his first year and she had promised that someone else would volunteer if he was. It was his first year and–

No one was stepping forward to stop it.

There was nothing she could do to stop the games, there was no way to save everyone.

They couldn’t even hear the words leave their mouth.

But they could do this. And they could save someone, just one person.

Lillian’s grip was a vice on her arm, not letting her move. “Serah you can’t.”

“We still qualify this year.”

Their steps echoed in the silence as they walked up to the stage. All eyes on them, making their skin crawl. But they didn’t stop.

“And what is your name?” The escort asked with an outstretched hand and too sharp smile.

“Serah. Serah Reide.”

It was only after giving up her name that it registered, looking over the crowd of stricken faces. The roar was gone, and the Dread was silent.