AELLA BARNES tugged at the tight neck of her pastel yellow dress in discomfort as she looked at herself in the mirror again. She had always liked pretty dresses, it was all her mother dressed her in really. It was a way of keeping her youngest child as young as she could. She never wanted Aella to grow up and so—much to Josh's dismay—she babied Aella. For a few years, Josh had seen it as their mother setting his sister up for failure. Unintentionally, of course but he couldn't stand the way Aella galloped around the house with her pure smile and clueless nature.

The day she turned twelve their mother had a panic attack and Aella had been so confused as to why she was suddenly not okay. Their sister was lucky, if she'd of been born two weeks earlier she would've been entered into the Games. At least that way she would've had some time to prepare herself for what they were, to burst that bubble of purity.

The day he had turned eleven was the day Josh's father subsequently ended his childhood. He didn't do it out of hate or spite but out of love. He wanted his son to have the best understanding of the Hunger Games as possible. He'd had to witness his younger sister fall victim to the Games years ago, so grossly unprepared that she died not even a minute into the Games. Their father refused to allow history to repeat itself, he prepared Josh for the Games, he allowed him to watch them under the nose of his mother but he couldn't for the life of him get anywhere near Aella to do the same to her.

His wife liked to keep a short leash on their daughter, not in a bad way of course, but she wanted to keep her innocence. She didn't want to ruin her daughter's childhood. She didn't want to scar her so emotionally at the young age of eleven but she and her siblings had all survived the reaping—she never truly understood how it felt to have someone you loved be reaped as a Tribute and watch them suffer.

Josh was grateful for what his father had done for him, even if he did fall asleep most nights begging to not be reaped. The Games invaded his nightmares often, just the thought of them was enough to make him cower in fear even at seventeen.

He didn't want his sister to be unprepared should the unthinkable happen to her. She was so babied, so mentally young for her age it terrified him. So one day he sat down and told her everything she needed to know about the Hunger Games so when she time came for her first reaping she was prepared. She knew it wasn't something 'lucky' like her mother had explained to her. She knew it wasn't the privileged scholarship to study in the Capitol her mother had told her it was. It was a brutal battle to death in a circular arena where everyone in Panem watched.

She cried the entire night in fear but when it came to her first reaping she was more than thankful for her brother for telling her.

But standing in her bedroom, preparing for her second reaping, while staring at the yellow dress she wore a horrible feeling crept over her. She felt like a fraud. She wasn't the same girl who she was two years prior when she stood in the mirror, looking at the pretty blue dress her mother had picked out for her while she spoke of how she couldn't wait to be able to join the reaping. Aella's thirst for knowledge was her downfall and she wanted nothing more than to have the opportunity to study within the Capitol, to secure herself an excellent education.

How stupid could she have been, she thought.

So she clawed at the the neck of her dress, feeling an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia while looking at her mother through the mirror, "I look awful."

"Oh stop it, Aella," Her mother cooed in response, swatting her daughters hands away lightly, "You look beautiful."

With her hands by her sides, they found each other until she eventually began to pop and crack the joints of her fingers. She wasn't sure when she first picked up the nervous habit but it didn't take long for her mother to realise when she did it and why. As the loud pops echoed in the silence between them her mother furrowed her brows and instead grasped her daughters hands in light comfort.

"I don't want to wear this." Aella said to her.

"Why not Ella?" Her mother asked her softly.

"It makes me look like a baby."

"No it doesn't."

"It does," Aella responded, "I'm not a baby anymore."

With her brows drawn in, Aella's mother said, "I never said you were."

"But you keep dressing me like one." She replied, "I know where I'm going today. I know what the reaping is for. I don't want to go."

Her mother inhaled sharply, the sound of her breath cutting through the air like a knife. Aella pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and she bit down nervously until she recognised an unfamiliar metallic taste in her mouth. She turned to her mother and looked up to meet her hooded gaze while anxiety clawed at her stomach, waiting for her to say something.

After what felt like forever, she sighed from above her and bent down to her knees to place her hands on either side of her daughters face. A sorrowful expression pulled at her features as she met her daughters gaze and shook her head softly, "I don't want you to go either, baby." She admitted ruefully.

"Then don't make me." The young girl pouted, tears rising to her eyes as her lip trembled, "I'm scared."

"I know." She nodded, bringing her tightly into her chest and hugging her, "It's not my choice Aella. You and your brother are required to go."

They were interrupted by a soft knock ricocheting through Aella's room followed by her brothers somber voice, "It's time, mom."

Josh watched Aella's arms tighten around their mother and his heart ached at the sight. It pained him that this was only her second reaping and this was his last. He had almost survived and that made him feel guilty. He couldn't even volunteer for her if the unthinkable was ever to happen either. The whole thing was a mess.

A soft sob echoed through the room as Aella begged, "No mom, please don't make me."

"Baby, look at me." Her mother said, forcing them apart. She smoothed her hands over her hair and cupped her cheeks in her hands while searching her daughters sparkling blue eyes. She remembered falling in love with those eyes when she was born. They were as vibrant as ever and when the sun reflected upon them the gold specs poked through, the colours swirling together in a beautifully crafted painting.

Tears threatened to push down Aella's cheeks. Her eyes were glossy and rimmed with red as she held her mother's sorrowful gaze. She listened.

"There are hundreds of other girls that are going to be there today, my love." She told her softly, "You've not signed up for Tesserae. You've got nothing to be worried about, Aella, I promise."

The young girl shook her head before rubbing her nose, "It's my second reaping. My name is in there twice."

Her mother shook her head softly, "And there are girls whose names will be in the bowl seven times. The odds will be in your favour."

For a moment, Aella's tears stopped and her face fell to a blank form where she said, "The odds are never in our favour."

•   •   •

Staring at herself in the mirror didn't feel the same as it had when she was younger. The nerves were definitely present, the anxiety of the whole situation was creeping up her spine like a silent killer, waiting to pounce. She could feel her fingers shaking lightly by her sides and every other minute she was reaching for them to pop and crack her bones. Clio saw the signs but she didn't mention them aloud. She hoped that Aella had enough control of her anxious thoughts to keep her steady and her head above the water.

What was different was the girl Aella was staring at. Over the years she had grown to hardly recognise herself. The memory of her mother and herself standing in front of her bedroom mirror before her second reaping hung in the forefront of her mind. It was raw, even after all those years. At the time, she struggled to remember anything for a while. It had all been one hazy cloud but over time it had worked it's way back to her in clear increments.

She could picture the young girl standing in the mirror pulling at the neck of the soft yellow dress she was wearing while her mother swatted her hands away softly. She had been so naive back then... so innocent.

Now she was a complete and utter mess. A shell of the person she once was. She didn't have the same aura as she did as a child—the one where whenever she smiled she would light up the room. She didn't walk with a bounce in her step anymore, nor did she care for all the little things in life. She had been moulded and shaped into a bitter woman. She would spent nights laid in bed awake thinking about all the possibilities of how she could kill President Snow. She was furious and terrified all the time. They were the only two emotions she had been capable of feeling for years.

Her temper was short today and while her fingers were trembling it wasn't all down to anxiety.

Aella eyed Clio standing behind her as they both admired her attire in the mirror. She saw her escort who, really, had grown to become her best friend staring at her with her hand placed over her chest and a weeping smile on her face. She opened her mouth to say something, no doubt offer a compliment into how beautiful she thought she looked but Aella stopped her before she could ever utter a word.

"Don't," She warned, watching the way Clio's eyes softened and glossed over, "I can't, Clio. Not today."

"I'm sorry." The woman apologised quickly, she unballed her fist to withdraw the hanky-chief that had been there all day and she dabbed under her eyes before tucking it away in her glove again. She placed her hands on Aella's shoulders, admiring the gorgeous yellow gown she wore.

The two women paid homage to the dress Aella wore when she was reaped all those years ago. It was strategy. All they had spoke about since President Snow announced the terms of the seventy-fifth Games had been was strategy. They were going to play the game from the very start and Aella was going to pull everything out of the several bags she and Clio had prepared. There was a fifty-fifty chance that she would be going to sleep tonight a Tribute—no longer a Victor. That angered her. It infuriated her that the life of peace she had been promised after winning the Games had never once been upheld.

So she was going to rebel and she was going to do it in true Aella style and it all started with wearing a similar remake of the dress she wore when she was reaped.

They hoped the people would remember what she wore the first time. She didn't doubt for a minute that Caesar Flickerman would be talking about it later that night on his talk show. Someone who worked for the Capitol would put the two together and a side-by-side view of Aella at thirteen in a yellow dress and Aella at twenty in a yellow dress would be displayed across screens of Panem for everyone to see. Their Golden Girl would return, as much as she hated the persona because if she was going to win she needed all the help she could get ... and if she died at least she could say she defied President Snow one last time.

Palex—Aella's designer since she had been reaped the first time—had re-designed her dress to be more fitting for her age. There were no pastel yellow and white frilly sleeves, they had disappeared. The neckline was no longer high to her neck and modest and the skirt did not puff at the waist. The now silk material was low cut and deeply revealing and for once, Aella didn't mind. She liked the way the pastel yellow silk gathered at her bust and hung just low enough to tease her cleavage. She enjoyed the way the material clung to her thin stomach and full waist and she certainly approved of the long slit up the thigh.

Every ounce of nerves had dripped off her body the second she slipped into the daring dress. In it she felt powerful—like a temptress...like the weapon President Snow had always wanted her to be for him except this time she was doing it for herself. She was her own greatest weapon and if she were to truly mean business, this was the way to go about in doing it.

To hell with the people who thought it was too extravagant for a reaping into your death. If these were going to be her final days on this earth at least she could say she looked fabulous during them.

Clio tried hard to fix the somber expression on her face as she looked at Aella, her hands grasping her arms. She would say it forever—scream it until she was blue in the face—she was immensely proud of the young woman in front of her. She was sure to tell her of it almost every time she saw her. She admired her resolve and how she held herself within the Capitol, of the way she would train the Tributes every year with such patience and passion.

Most of all, she truly admired her for defying President Snow. It might not have worked out well for her but the courage it must've taken her sixteen year old self to do was immeasurable in her eyes. If she could do that, what else could she do?

Tears were quick to fill Clio's eyes just as quickly as she'd wiped them away and when one pushed over her waterline and ran down her cheek Aella placed her hand over hers on her arm.

Clio released a deep sigh while meeting Aella's gaze through the mirror, "I say this every time I see you, Aella, I am so, so, proud of you."

"Clio." Aella hummed softly in appreciation as she watched her fight her tears.

The woman shook her head lightly as if waving off that it was nothing and she continued, "And no matter what happens today I will remain proud of you, Aella."

"Thank you, Clio." Aella said, her voice full of sentiment, "Truly."

Clio nodded as she looked at her fully again, "You really are beautiful," Were her words before she said, "May the odds be ever in your favour, Aella."

She forced a smile to her face but it wasn't one of happiness, rather of sorrow as her nose crinkled and she said, "The odds are never in our favour."

•   •   •

Aella and Clio walked hand in hand to the Justice Building, completely surrounded by guarded Peacekeepers to ensure she didn't try to run. It was completely unnecessary. They had been stationed by her front door since President Snow had made the announcement of the re-reaping of the previous Victors those short days ago and they hadn't left since. She felt even more like a prisoner in her own home.

Sal hadn't been able to visit her out of pure fear President Snow would find out about her, Sam and Natalia. It was painful enough forcing them out of her home just after the Quell had been announced, fighting back the rage induced tears in her eyes while Sal sobbed.

She was glad Clio had arrived on the train last night rather than early that morning. At least she wasn't totally alone the night before the reaping—even if she had spent three hours on the phone to him before she had fallen asleep like always. She never had a nightmare whenever she fell asleep listening to his voice in her ear and it had been that way for years.

When they arrived at the Justice Square the residents of her District were silent. They watched Aella go through the preparation, have her blood drawn and her fingerprints taken and their hearts shattered for her. Everyone in District Five knew of Aella Barnes. They knew what happened to her in The Games. They knew what became of her family but the stoic expression she wore on her face shocked them all to their cores. They could see the way her jaw was set firmly, teeth clenched and unmoving and the fire blazing heatedly in her eyes.

Clio squeezed her hand one final time as they were separated and the escort was ushered inside the Justice Building while Aella was guided to the stage and forced to stand silently next to Porter Millicent Tripp. It was set out in the same way it had been every single year. The large glass bowls that were usually half full with names were now empty. It was almost impossible to see the two names in the bowl standing on the right hand side of the stage but when Aella was guided forward she spotted them.

Aella took her place and she held her hands behind her, fingers wrapped around her wrist as she lifted her chin. She stared blankly ahead and ignored the crowd of her District as they had gathered to watched the re-reaping.

The cameras were ever present, filming them from every possible angle. The Capitol were watching, Panem were watching and she had to provide. She was their Golden Girl now—not Aella Barnes. She couldn't show anything on her face apart from anger or thrill. She knew how to work the cameras, she knew how to act but there was a small, sadistic, part of her that was excited for this re-reaping. The fifty-fifty possibility of both her name and Drew's name being chosen brought excitement to set her veins alight.

She imagined reaching the Cornucopia and equipping herself with a well balanced, sharp, machete and stabbing Drew Lopez in every non-lethal place before leaving him to bleed out slowly.

The doors to the Justice Building opened, the echo of the old doors ricocheting through the square. It was so silent you could hear a pin drop and the eerie tension that filled the square whenever the reaping came was present. It made Aella feel uneasy and she swallowed thickly, forcing herself to keep her eyes forward. She didn't even dare to search the crowd for Sal, Natalia and Sam.

Mayor Gallohill stepped out from the Justice Building and District officials followed him with Clio close by.

Mayor Gallohill walked forward toward the microphone and he cleared his throat and he hesitated, something he had never done before. His shoulders were tense and his brows were knitted together tightly. An expression of unease swept over his face and his attempt to swipe it away failed. Instead, he leaned forward somewhat and said, "Welcome," He spoke plainly, "Today we gather to begin the start of the seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games and the third Quarter Quell."

He swallowed thickly and paused in his speech which brought Aella to finally turn her head. Mayor Gallohill had recited that very speech for over seventeen years and not once had he ever faulted. His hesitation was unusual and the woman's brows furrowed lightly.

"Our Victors know of the fame and the fortune that the winner of the Hunger Games receive," The man said, diverting from his speech entirely and he glanced to both his left and right, looking at the Victors that stood by his side.

"This year President Snow has decided to reap a male and female from the existing pool of Victors. We are lucky enough to have a pool of talent who bring pride to this District daily. Of the men, Areas Davine, Daniel Amor and Drew Lopez," He said, announcing the Victors from eldest to youngest, "And of the women, Porter Millicent Tripp and Aella Barnes. I personally would like to wish our Victors the best of luck. May the odds be ever in your favour."

He stepped aside and looked at Clio, offering his hand for her to step forward and she did so. The woman's silver dress sparkled under the beaming sunlight, her way of supporting the District she escorted for by representing everything they embodied.

Clio released a breath-filled chuckle as she reached the microphone, "Thank you, Mayor Gallohill." She said through a fake voice, "And welcome ladies and gentlemen to the reaping of the seventy-fifth Hunger Games and the third Quarter Quell."

She paused, taking the moment to look out across the square. Her eyes lingered on the hanging flags of Panem and her stomach twisted in rage and fury. All she could think about was how unfair it all was. She wished she could have done something to change the way it had planned out. She wasn't sure how they had ever gotten to this point.

"As always, ladies first." She said with regret and she turned to make the journey over to the glass filled bowl.

Aella could not keep her head straight no matter how hard she tried. Clio's eyes bore into hers as the young woman turned to look at her and they were filled with emotion and sorrow. She was almost apologising though Aella knew none of it would ever be her fault. She hoped the expression in her eyes explained as much, that she didn't blame Clio for whatever was about to happen.

She curled the tips of her fingers into the palm of her hand, creating half-crescent moon shapes as Clio's hand dipped into the bowl. Her breath hitched in her throat as she watched the woman decide over which of the two pieces of neatly folded paper to take. When her fingers eventually curled around a name she dropped it at the last second and retrieved the other piece of paper.

Aella's heart lurched at her actions. The thought that Clio could've easily dropped Porter's name and picked up her own or visa versa played in her head like a broken record player. Her hands gathered a thick layer of moisture and her heart pounded so hard it restricted her breathing. Watching Clio walk back to the microphone she felt dizzy. The woman's every step ricocheted in her mind. She felt herself losing her grip on reality and she fought damn hard to keep it.

She cracked her fingers behind her back as Clio came to a stop in front of the microphone. She cleared her throat gently, holding the folded paper in her hands and Aella's heart stopped dead.

"The female Tribute is..."

Clio took a deep breath and she uttered a silent prayer before opening the paper folded before her. The second her eyes danced across the name she released a heavy, heavy, sigh and Aella knew it was her name she had picked before Clio even had the chance to say it. The way her whole body posture changed was the giveaway, as was the way she closed her eyes while a pained expression crossed her face.

"Aella Barnes."

Deja vu... It was just as painful as the first time.

The air stormed out of her lungs at a record pace and for a minute she was a frozen statue, standing in disbelief as her life crashed before her eyes. There was no other explanation for it and once again, she was hurling back toward rock bottom and the feeling of suffocation was all too familiar.

She was numb to everything around her until she felt a hand clasp gently around her sweaty palm. In that second, her hazy vision cleared and a small narrow rabbit hole opened up in her mind. It was just small enough for her to claw her way back through and in an almost robotic way she turned her head to look at Porter Millicent Tripp—the one who was holding her hand so gently.

Porter pulled Aella into a tight embrace and it knocked her back down the rabbit hole. She never expected it and she stiffened visibly as her wide eyed stare fixated to the ground. All her nightmares pertaining to her Games flashed before her eyes and she couldn't shake them away. She felt her grip on reality falling until Porter's words echoed like the whisper she intended them to be in her ears,

"Tell me about District Twelve, Aella."

The jagged sounds of her voice formed coherent words she understood. She hadn't ever had much to do with Porter but on the two separate years she'd accompanied her as a Mentor for the Games the older woman familiarised herself with Aella's coping method for her panic attacks. She was suddenly overly aware of Porter's hands curling over her back and she realised the reason she was embracing her in the first place was because the older woman saw her slipping.

She tried to keep her composure, to be that Golden Girl all of Panem thought her to be... but in that moment she was no different to the innocent thirteen year old who was reaped six years ago.

"Coal mining." Aella whispered shakily, her head twisted under Porter's hands strategically in a way so the cameras couldn't see her falling apart.

"Carry on for me." Porter instructed her gently before she pulled away from their embrace and offered her a reassuring smile.

Eleven is agriculture, she thought to herself as she slowly walked over to Clio's awaiting embrace. The escort's hands curled over her shoulders and she placed a kiss to both of Aella's cheeks though everyone saw the love behind it. It wasn't a sign of greeting anymore, it was Clio's way of showing her affection for the young girl she'd assisted in raising to become a woman.

Clio had to remind herself that she still had her job to think about and she pulled away from Aella with a short, shaky, sigh. Her mind never strayed away from Aella's state however and she wanted nothing more than to shake her until she woke up from the daze she'd succumbed to. She knew once the train doors closed behind them and the cameras were gone she'd ultimately break.

"Now for the men." Clio announced, her voice wavering and uncertain. She hadn't been so affected by a reaping since Aella's initial reaping six years ago.

She left the young woman's side and walked over to the men, her eyes planted firmly on the glass bowl. She moved with purpose, there was no hesitation behind her movements as she plucked the name in her fingers. When she withdrew her hand she glared firmly at Drew who stood on the end closest to her. She prayed it was his name she held. At least that way Aella could finally seek her revenge for everything he had ever done to her without being arrested and executed herself.

Clio made the journey back to the microphone and she unfolded the paper quickly. There was no pause for dramatic flare. She was too invested to know whose name she had picked.

"The male Tribute for District Five is Drew Lopez."

Soft murmurs broke out from within the crowd as they shared fleeting glances with one another. The cameras caught them and they caught the way satisfied grins fell upon residents faces. Finally, it seemed, true justice had been served and District Five broke out into a heavy round of applause.

A name that once elicited fear within Aella was one that pulled her out of her dazed state. She turned her head in shock, eyes widening more so now than ever. At first, she thought she was hearing things. The odds had never been in her favour and while they still weren't, this made it feel like they were to some extent.

The sound of heavy clapping from her District had her raising her chin higher than before. She looked out across the sea of people and saw the satisfaction in their eyes, saw the retribution. She knew they weren't applauding him because they loved him, they were applauding because he was finally getting what was coming to him.

Somehow, she found Sam's gaze in the crowd of people. Her eyes danced over his mother who was clapping through her thick tears and his sister who had once been her best friend but ultimately she looked at Sam and inclined her head once at him.

Look after them, she said silently.

He nodded once himself, you can do this.

Drew shuffled over toward Clio while the applause picked up and people began to boo at him. The wasn't anything the Peacekeepers could do. It wasn't an act of rebellion. No one was fighting to get to the stage. They were simply a people communicating their true feelings.

Aella looked away from Sam and toward Drew, her eyes shining in a malicious way. Clio had only ever seen that gleam in her eyes when she was trapped within the arena of the Games. A shiver spider-walked down her spine. She wasn't looking at Aella, not anymore. She was looking at the Victor of the sixty-ninth Hunger Games. She was looking at the Capitol's Golden Girl with a will of steel and an icy wrath.

"Shake hands, you two." Clio said into the microphone, looking between them as Drew stopped beside her. She didn't ever expect for them to respond to her but she was more than shocked when Aella lifted her hand and waited for Drew.

With hesitant eyes Drew slotted his hand into Aella's and she curled her fingers around his so tightly he grimaced in pain. Her face remained unchanged, however, and she looked at him as if nothing had ever happened.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Clio announced, looking to the crowd, "Our Victors."

And the applause grew even louder. All in Aella's favour as she looked back out across her District and lifted her fist into the air in both silent promise and goodbye.

Her District, her people, responded in the same way.

• • •

A/N; next update is Monday!