He hadn’t seen Santana much since they had left for the Capitol. She had been keeping mostly to herself, and Blaine had been spending his time getting to know their mentor.

Nicholas Robertson was an attractive, well shaped man who Blaine estimated to be in his early forties. He was the champion of the 160th Hunger Games, aged 17. As Blaine learnt, the only contestant he’d had to kill had been the only other one remaining, a Career from District Two.

Nicholas kept reminding Blaine of how the Careers were the trickiest to beat, or avoid, considering their whole lives had been spent training for the Games.

Apparently not all Careers had swimming lessons included in their training, Nicholas had remarked, smirking slightly. The arena that year had consisted predominantly of water, and he had killed the Career by drowning her.

As time dragged on, Blaine could do nothing but sit and nod warily as Nicholas bombarded him with information and advice; pretending he actually cared about surviving.

He did feel a little guilty that Nicholas would be investing so much time on him, only for Blaine to throw it to the wind as soon as he entered the arena.

Currently, Nicholas was regaling Blaine with a story of how he survived his first night in the Arena, “I hadn’t eaten all day Blaine, all day! No food!”

Blaine smiled and nodded, trying not to think of how it must have been the tenth time that day he’d heard that particular story.

“And then I heard the sixth cannon and I thought to myse- oh! Santana, welcome!”

Santana sank down in the chair next to Blaine.
“Hi Mister Robertson.”

“Oh please, call me Nicholas, or Nick. It’s really up to the pair of you.”

The older man’s ocean blue eyes twinkled as he brushed his hair off of his face. Blaine smiled. He was a rather nice person, even if he talked enough for all of District 12.
“Okay, Nick, sorry I wasn’t here, I haven’t... haven’t been feeling well. What have I missed?”

Blaine thumped his head against the chair in mild frustration as Nick once more broke into what he referred to as his ‘survival tales of truly epic proportions’.

Kurt Hummel stood staring out over the Capitol from his apartment. Today he would get to start working with his first Tribute. He knew it was an honour to be employed by the Capitol to work for the Hunger Games, and was finally a chance for him to flaunt the talent he possessed at such a young age.

At the tender age of 19, Kurt Hummel had beaten out numerous stylists years older than himself for this role. Smiling, Kurt glanced over at the book that held his designs for this year’s tributes. Blaine Anderson and Santana Lopez.

Their measurements had been taken before they left District 12, and sent on to the Capitol so that Kurt, and Tina, his associate, could get to work.

Tina was the same age as Kurt, but she was also relatively gifted when it came to fashion. Tina had an eye for potential styles and often she and Kurt would stay up late together discussing where the Capitol’s fashion was going.
Kurt thought the bright colours of what was considered ‘fashionable’ to be extremely tacky. He knew he stood out from those around him for his more personal style; clothes he found comfortable but which enhanced his rather slender, yet well sculpted figure. Kurt decided he would rather stand out for looking less vibrant than wearing clothes that assaulted the corneas of other people walking by him.

Not to mention the ridiculous makeup.

Kurt flipped the sketchbook open, eyes falling on Blaine’s ‘costume’ for the Tribute Parade. Kurt knew the aspect of District 12 that he had decided to focus upon for this year would be deemed slightly more interesting than was usual, but it was a design Kurt was rather proud of.

He couldn’t wait to see if it worked.

Kurt knew that he was given District 12 to work with as a way to prove himself, before he began working up towards the better districts, but truth be told, he didn’t mind.
Kurt had personal ties to District 12 that few knew about.

Blaine peered out the window as the train drew closer to the Capitol.

Their journey had gone quicker than he’d expected, and Blaine’s stomach fluttered as he thought of how much things were going to change.

For now though, Blaine was just happy to have finally left District 12.

Blaine and Santana had grown closer over the duration of their trip, and he’d listened to all the stories she’d told him about growing up with a loving family and friends.

Although Blaine didn’t think he’d had the best life, he didn’t pity himself like Santana seemed to.

She’d taken his hand gently as he told her about the time Cooper’s friends had beaten him unconscious and left him at the fence separating District 12 from the forest surrounding it.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Santana had murmured, a tear slipping from her eye as Blaine had let down his walls and showed her some of the scars on his chest.

“It helped turn me into the person I am.”

“Yes, but Blaine, you’re not happy.”

Blaine had gaped, completely taken aback.

“I...”

“Blaine, these last few days that I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve seen a boy who doesn’t care if he makes it through the first thirty seconds in the arena. I’m just sorry your life has led you to feel this way.”

Blaine had sighed, resting his head against the back of the chair.

“Feelings have only ever led to me getting hurt. It’s better this way. I’m not going to be in anyone’s way.”
Santana had pulled Blaine in for a hug then, and he’d almost fainted in surprise. For someone who he’d often regarded as staunch and heartless, she wasn’t holding out on her emotions anymore.

“Blaine?”

Blaine blinked at Santana’s mention of his name, drawn back to the present.

“Mmyeah?”

“We’re here.”

Her eyes were wide as she told him, and Blaine noted how much his own hands were shaking.

As much as he wanted this, it was terrifying.

As soon as they stepped off the train, they would be swept off and primped and preened for the Tribute Parade.

That was one of the things Blaine was dreading the most, apart from the interviews.

Tonight he and Santana, along with all of the other tributes, would be revealed to the Capitol.

He couldn’t help but be a little worried with what they would have to wear. For years, the costumes had all been variations of each other. Being from a coal mining district didn’t exactly leave much for the stylists to work with.

The train door hissed open, and Blaine’s heart began racing; there were people quite literally everywhere. For a boy from District 12, it was all quite terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

While most of the people were waiting to see the tributes arriving, there was still the general hustle and bustle of the Capitol train station taking place all around them.
The cacophony of sounds assaulted Blaine’s ears and he struggled to think clearly. Glancing across to Santana, he noticed she seemed to be having the same experience.

“This is crazy!” She cried to Nicholas, who simply beamed.
“Welcome to the Capitol, kids!”

Fiona Reading appeared at Blaine’s side, and led them down to a shuttle which would lead them to where his and Santana’s transformations would begin to take place.

Blaine’s stomach churned as Cooper’s words drifted through his mind, “Don’t let them change you”. Blaine snorted derisively; changing was all part of the Games.

“Once we get to the building, you will be taken care of by some of the Capitol’s finest beauticians,” Fiona remarked, glancing down at a small gadget in her palm, “Then once you are both looking slightly more... refined, you will meet with your stylists. Santana, you will be with Tina C, and Blaine, you’ll be with Kurt Hummel. They’re our newest stylists, and they’re both particularly promising.”

Blaine nodded, not really paying much attention as he gazed out the window of the shuttle, the Capitol passing them by.

At least he’d die having been somewhere other than the dull confines of District 12.

Blaine turned to Santana, who was leaning back in her seat, eyes closed.

She hadn’t been sleeping much, and Blaine had heard her crying more often than not.

Blaine took her hand gently; an action the two of them had taken to doing as a means to comfort the other. He was quite pleasantly surprised by the friendship they seemed to have formed, but he was worried how she’d cope with not having someone there with her when he died.

Blaine smiled grimly at that thought. As horrible as it no doubt sounded, the eventuality of his death seemed inevitable to him.

Santana smiled sadly at Blaine, knowing they didn’t have much time left to simply sit idly.

Blaine couldn’t deny that he was slightly excited for the training days. Even though he didn’t consider his life worth preserving by trying to defend himself, he loved the feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The last time Blaine had felt such a rush was when he tried to defend himself from Cooper’s friends. He’d managed a few decent punches, and kneed one of them in the crotch, but Blaine had definitely come off worse.

He’d been found by a middle aged woman, who’d taken him back to her home and healed him. Blaine had informed her sadly, once he gained consciousness, that he had nothing to offer her, other than running errands, but she had smiled and declined, saying her own son was able to do them.

Blaine had been shocked by her kindness, something he’d missed once he returned home after the three days it took for most of his injuries to heal somewhat.

His parents hadn’t noticed his absence, and Cooper was never around.

He’d often wanted to go back and offer to help the lady, despite the fact that she declined his first offer, but when he returned a few weeks later, she and her son had disappeared.

Rumour had it she was newly married to a man who had just been sponsored to move to the Capitol, something Blaine had never heard of.

It must have taken a lot of money, or bribery or something equally difficult, for that sort of thing to occur.
Blaine shook his head, bringing himself back to the present.

The training days were going to be his chance to see what he was up against.

He had no doubt that the Careers would dominate, as was so often the case, but Blaine couldn’t stop himself from wondering what would happen if he had any kind of tangible talent. If he could defend himself somehow.

Blaine knew his helplessness was something he had control over, but it was exhausting to try and motivate himself.
He felt like he’d been running all of his life, trying to please people, trying so, so hard to measure up to what everybody expected of him, and it was exhausting.

He was beyond caring.

That was what he kept thinking as the elevator took the small party of four up the elevator, to where Blaine and Santana would undergo the start of their Tribute preparation.