Chapter Text
The 75th Hunger Games had been a disaster for the Capital.
Katniss felt nothing but relief at the card reading for that upcoming Quarter Quell. 'The Tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of Victors'.
Safe. She and Prim were safe for another year. Her mother had been barely functional during the week before the reading, memories of the 50th Quarter Quell's double tribute requirements occasionally mumbled into the dark.
On the day of the Reaping, Effie Trinket had still made a fuss of pulling the only slip of paper out of each bowl.
'Haymitch Abernathy', surprisingly her shrill Capitolite voice had a softness behind it when reading his name, maybe even pain. If Katniss didn't know better, she may have described it as grief.
'Rooba Grouse' There was no detectable tenderness that time. The butcher's daughter had proven to be a formidable tribute during the 74th games. But it was her manipulation skills that had endeared her to the capitol's sponsors.
While the extra food her victory brought the district had helped fill out even the poorest of the Seam, the Grouses no longer stepped foot outside Victor Village. How did she expect the district to treat her after betraying the girl from District 11 and her own district partner?
There were grumbles about the Quell from the capitol. Disappointment over losing so many 'favorites' among the victors. They'd watched too many ridiculous interviews with Capitolites bawling. Multiple colors running down their face, over the possibility of losing Finnick Odair.
Rooba didn't even get past the cornucopia. She was the first target of the District 2 tribute with the predator grin. There was none of the usual somber respect the night her cannon sounded.
As Haymitch and his allies were dragging a wire and moving towards the arena wall instead of the beach, whispers of rebellion reverberated through the district.
They were all laying on the forest floor. Blasted by the shock of Finnick Odair throwing his wired trident into the forcefield, just as the tree struck midnight. It looked like the arena was starting to crumble when the feed was cut.
Peacekeepers ordered everyone to stay in their homes for the next 2 days. Patrols passing by like the clockwork of the arena they had just been watching. When the projectors hummed on the morning of the 3rd day, President Snow was dead.
It was said he died peacefully in his sleep…. along with several other top officials. A man named Plutarch was announced as the new President. The 75th Hunger Games had no victor.
President Plutarch's first official address was that since there was no victor, all districts would receive a shipment of supplies in honor of their fallen tributes.
Gale ranted in the woods that a rebellion had been ripe to take off and they were trying to buy them off with some meager rations. Katniss sat silent while he raged, but couldn't find it in her to be upset about avoiding an all-out war and having a surplus of supplies for the upcoming winter.
As the months passed, the rumors of uprisings in other districts were no more than faint memories. That winter was unusually harsh. Even Gale quieted down about the Capitol supplies, knowing it may have been the difference between life and death when the snare lines came up empty week after week.
The first signs of spring were starting to show, a few sparse dandelions just beginning to pop up in the meadow, when the announcement came to gather in the town square that evening. Katniss was still five months away from her final reaping in that same square. She would finally be safe, well about as safe as one can be in District 12. She'd have four more years to get through for Prim.
The Everdeen and Hawthorne clans stood together in the square. There was a buzz in the air, people seemed…excited? There were a few pensive faces but many were relaxed and optimistic.
Some of the children were debating if they would announce that the next supply train would be full of sweets. Katniss half snorted to herself, maybe Gale was right, how quickly they forget when their stomachs are full.
The screens filled with the familiar face of Caesar Flickerman. A hush fell over the square as they sucked in a collective breath. As the official announcer of the Hunger Games, he was more likely to be describing in detail the deaths of their latest tributes than of any treats on the supply trains.
"Greetings Panem!" His voice boomed across the district. He started prattling on in his typical too chipper for the subject matter way. Katniss was still trying to decide what to call the new shade of blue he was covered in when the words spilled from his painted lips, "Panem must go forward united. The Past forgiven by the mercy of the Capitol, to step into our bright Future, together. And so, the era of the Hunger Games has come to an end."