Chapter Text
Row upon row of grey children stood before the raised platform - a sea drained of colour, ready for the coming storm. Hushed whispers caught on the wind, but no one raised their voice for fear of standing out. Today was no day to be noticed. It might have been more appropriate had it been raining, or had the sky darkened with the arrival of the dreaded day, but the sun had risen that morning, brighter than ever and had proceeded to lavish the district with warm rays of light all through the morning. Standing, waiting for something to happen, the warmth was almost too much.
One spot of colour appeared amongst the sea of grey, exiting the town hall with a flourish. The woman was dressed head to toe in peacock feathers, the little black dots like thousands of eyes scanning the crowd, unblinking, just waiting, watching the masses of hushed children below. She seemed to emanate a fine mist of glitter with each step she took, and as the woman strutted towards the microphone at centre stage, the children in the front rows had to turn their heads to stop from being blinded by the reflection.
There was a harsh ‘clacking’ sound as the woman’s elongated nails brushed accidentally against the ball of the microphone, but she paid no attention to the abrasive sound, pulling it from the stand with a flick of her wrist, smiling out into the crowd as she did so. She paused to take a deep breath, savouring the moment, before she spoke.
‘It is my absolute pleasure to welcome so many of you here today, for this, one of our most exciting traditions.’ She paused for effect, scanning the rows of children. She was met with nothing but blank faces even as she smiled sweetly down at them. Clearing her throat she continued.
‘My word, the excitement here is almost tangible. I myself am practically bursting with anticipation, but don’t you worry, I won’t leave you hanging for long. I’m not that cruel.’
She laughed, whether it was out of irony or because she thought that pitiful excuse for a joke was worthy of a laugh was unclear. Either way, she laughed alone.
‘So, I flipped a coin before coming out and the girls won, so we'll start the show with them shall we?.’
She turned to beckon one of the crystal balls forward from the back of the stage, her heels tapping impatiently against the stained wood beneath her feet. When it was settled before her she placed the microphone back into its stand and rubbed her hands together happily. The crowd stiffened as she lingered over the opening of the bowl. She had their attention, now she was teasing them.
‘Good luck girls.’
Her hand plunged into the little mountain of paper lining the bowl and she spent a couple of seconds rooting around before she picked one she liked. Pulling it out she showed it off to the crowd like some sort of prize, wiggling it in the air temptingly as everyone watched with their hearts in their mouths, wondering if their name was on the paper, wondering if it was someone they knew, someone they loved. The square was so quiet that even the little ‘snick’ of the paper being pulled open was audible in the back row.
‘The female tribute from District 4 is… Allison Argent.’
All eyes turned to the unfortunate girl as whispers broke out, pulsing away from her like ripples on a lake.
‘Come on up here Allison, come show the world what they're in for.’
On shaking legs Allison managed to push her way out of her line, and start the walk up towards the stage. Despite her obvious trembling she held her head high, keeping her expression neutral, almost as if she hadn’t just been sentenced to near inevitable death. The other girls moved aside to let her through. They bowed their heads as she passed. When she reached the stage, the woman in the feathers tugged her up the steps and turned her to look back out into the crowd she had just left. The crowd she'd never be part of again.
‘The boys now, let’s see who will be joining lovely Allison up here, shall we?’
In the fourth row of the crowd, one of the boys was trying to push his way out of line and towards the stage. He was being held back by the boy next to him, struggling valiantly against the grip on his shoulders and around his waist. His eyes were fixed on Allison, his mouth open as if trying to call for her but unable to remember how.
‘Scott, Scott, stop it, stop struggling. There’s nothing you can do for her right now. You’ll just attract attention.’
Scott stilled, turning towards the boy holding him back, eyes wide and shining, pleading with him to understand.
‘Please Stiles, I need to help her, I need to stop this. I can’t let them take her to that place.’
Stiles sighed, relinquishing his choke hold, and using his now free hands to skim the spiky tufts of his buzzed hair. He glanced quickly up at Allison who was gazing resolutely off into the distance, and then back to Scott.
‘I know buddy. We’ll think of something, but we can’t do anything right now so you need to calm down.’
The crowd around them began to murmur. Turning his focus back to the situation at hand, Stiles looked up towards the stage wondering what he'd missed. The peacock lady was staring confusedly out into the crowd, brows furrowed into a tight V. She raised the scrap of paper in her hand and considered it, regarding the name with scorn, before shouting it out, massacring the syllables painfully. Stiles’ blood ran cold. Beside him Scott stiffened, reaching out to grab Stiles’ arm tightly. Normally Stiles would have complained about the harsh grip, about bruises and delicate skin, but he was acutely aware that 'normally' had just gone straight out the window along with the rest of his life and his whole body felt nothing but numb. The horrible name was called again, too loud and too wrong and Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed that he'd had to put that down on the card. No one had called him that in years. Not since his m- not in a long time.
Next to him, Scott began to take a step forward, mouth open as if he was going to say something but Stiles knew exactly what it was that he wanted to say, and there was no way in hell that that he was going to let that happen. He kicked Scott as hard as he could, shaking his head when Scott turned to look at him incredulously. Scott frowned but stepped back into line, eyes fixing back on the stage where Allison was now staring directly at him. Or rather, directly at Stiles.
Without conscious effort he began to walk towards the stage, legs moving of their own accord. For this small mercy he was almost glad as his mind was spinning too fast to be of any actual use. It was lucky that the town centre was stone paved and flat, had it not been he almost certainly would have tripped and brained himself before he even made it to the arena. A traitorous part of him whispered that perhaps that would be a more fitting end for someone like him. That there was no glory in his future so maybe it would be best opt out now, under his own conditions. They wanted spectacle, surely that would suffice. Surely it would be original. He ignored the voice and kept walking.
The stairs were trickier for his numb legs and spinning mind to navigate, but just like with Allison the sharp grip of the peacock lady’s spiked hand guided him up before he could even think about embarrassing her. The cameras flitted back round to focus on the three of them and she smiled into the lens giddily.
‘So there we have it folks, your two District 4 tributes, Miss Allison Argent and Mr –’
‘Stiles.’
He hadn’t really meant to say anything, but the shock must have short wired everything in his brain, because the word tumbled out without his permission.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Call me Stiles, everyone else does.’
The woman looked a little affronted by the unscheduled interruption, but she nodded anyway, still smiling brightly, and carried on.
‘Miss Allison Argent and Mr ‘Stiles’ Stilinski. Let’s give them a big round of applause.’
She tapped her hands together lightly, and the rest of the crowd reluctantly joined in. Unmoving, Stiles and Allison stood side by side, arms almost touching, staring out into the sea of familiar faces that suddenly felt very far away. They didn't speak. There wasn’t really all that much to say.
Out in the crowd, Scott watched as two of the most important people in his life were led off of the stage and through the giant double doors of the Town Hall. As the doors slammed shut behind them he covered his eyes with his hands and let the tears come.