The chariot pulled into the Training Centre amidst laughter and cries of joy. Congratulations were passed around, hugs received and given, smiles on every face. Almost as if everyone around the two young people wasn’t preparing to send them to their deaths.

“Congratulations to everyone. Well well done. Maybe this won’t be as hopeless as I expected. Now Ms. Browning, Anderson, you should go get some sleep. It will be a very busy day tomorrow.” Crippet said emotionlessly.

Blaine raised an eyebrow and asked, “What are we doing?”

“Why I was just getting to that. No need to be so impatient Anderson.” Crippet replied icily. “Tomorrow morning I’m going to meet with each of you individually to discuss strategies, then you will head over to training where you will work on your skills. In the evening, you will show your skills, if you possess any, to the Gamemakers and you will receive a score that will help determine your odds in the arena, and help the audience choose who to bet for.”

York nodded at her words before continuing, “The next day we will have the whole day with you to prepare for your interviews.”

After a moment of silence, Lizzie whispered shakily, “So-“
“Yes Ms. Browning. The games will begin in two days. So you best be off to bed and getting some rest. You have some long days ahead of you.” She glanced at Blaine, “Both of you.”

Without another word, the two tributes headed off to their respective chambers, discarding their finery and climbing onto the soft mattresses, before settling into an unsettled sleep.

-----------------------------------------------------

A low whistle awoke Blaine with a start. He blinked sun from his eyes, and lazily sat up, moving to brush his hand through his curls but finding his hair still trapped in the helmet it had been styled into the day before.
Someone was speaking through the intercom. Porkeyes.

Blaine stood and walked over to the speaker before muttering into the microphone, “I’m up.”

“Good good very good! You have a long day ahead of you Mr.Anderson-”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Yes of course. Breakfast is being sent to your room. Ms. Browning is meeting with your mentor now. Go eat, clean up, and get dressed. You will be heading to training directly from your meeting. Understand?”

“Yes, thank you.” Blaine replied politely before switching of the intercom.

He headed off to the shower, pleasantly surprised that he did not struggle removing the gel because the water seemed programmed to do just that. Moments later he stepped out, feeling a sigh of relief when his fingers easily slipped through his damp curls. A tiny piece of normalcy he intended to cling onto for as long as he possibly could.

Blaine zipped up the navy and red track suit that had been laid out for him on the dresser. Turning to look in the floor length mirror beside him, Blaine was slightly startled at the sight. The track suit’s material accentuated his muscles and the cut seemed to make him appear a few inches taller. With his dark curls, still somewhat tame because of the trimming they had endured yesterday, and naturally tanned skin, he looked handsome and dangerous. A formidable opponent. Feeling some of the confidence he had yesterday return, Blaine ate from the breakfast that had been prepared for him, and settled down onto his bed to wait.

Not long after, Porkeyes voice reemerged from the intercom, informing him that it was his turn.

Stepping into the hallway and making his way to the main room, Blaine ran into Lizzie, still clad in her pyjamas.
“Good luck!” She whispered before slipping silently into her chamber to get ready.

Blaine hesitated outside the entrance to the room, before taking in a deep breath and stepping inside, closing the door behind him with a click.

“Anderson take seat.” Crippet said as he entered, not looking up from her notes.

Blaine did as he was told and sat in the seat opposite his mentor. After a few minutes, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Finally, Crippet did look up at him, ensnaring his hazel eyes with her stormy grey ones. “What do we have here? Tell me, what exactly do you do in District 1?”

“Umm… I go to school… I work at the fabric mill, like storing fabrics and stuff. I play music and-”

“No hunting, fishing, trapping, running, anything?”

“Well I lift things…”

“Unimportant. You’re just like the rest of them. Another princess from District 1.”

“No I-“

“Don’t start with me Anderson. You obviously aren’t going to be able to pull off the whole strong persona. You’re not tough. You have a pretty face but you’re idiot stylist already made you out to be too much of a schoolboy to appear sexy. Everyone here thinks you’re a fairy…” Crippet paused before leaning back in her chair, elegantly folding her hands in her lap while something behind her eyes lit up, “So that’s exactly what we’re going to give them.”

“Excuse me?”

“Blaine Anderson, dapper schoolboy and gentleman. Handsome, charming, sings like a dream. You’re going to target the hearts of the audience. They'll love you.”

“But I’m strong. I can fight.”

“No you can’t. That boy from District 2 can crush you between his fingers in an instant. Listen to me Anderson, and listen to me closely. Inside and outside the arena you are going to be winning over the love of the audience. I always hear that you are the one who ‘doesn’t deserve to die’. And although I don’t believe a word of it, you’re going to have to convince these idiots in the Capitol. The bigger fanbase you have, the better off you’ll be. Because without help, you will lose. Clear?”

Blaine hesitated before looking steadily back into her eyes, meeting them without a flinch. “Crystal.”

“Perfect. That’s what we want. You can sing right? Prepare a piece.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see. Just practice one tonight. With the piano.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And I frankly don’t care. You’ll listen to what I’m saying regardless if you want to live.”

“Yes ma’am.” Blaine sighed, looking down at his feet.

“And Anderson, best not mention your sexuality.” Crippet said quietly.

“What? Why? I’m proud of who I am and I’m not afraid of what they think. And I want Kurt to know-“

Crippet looked back up at him, eyes flashing, “Oh and I suppose you want to go home too? Since when has this ever been about what you want Anderson? You don’t want the support of the crowd, you will need it. And half that audience won’t support you if they know you’re gay. If you ever find your way out of the arena, then feel free to say whatever the hell you want. But as long as I’m your mentor and you want to win, then you’ll stay hidden away in that little closet of yours. So you will avoid questions mentioning any lover back at home, and you will not speak to descriptively of one.”

“Understood.”

“Better. Now get out of my sight. Training begins soon and you don’t want to be late for that do you?”

The boy stood and headed out the door, but paused. Looking over his shoulder he called back to the cold woman still seated in the chair, “Ms Crippet?”

“What do you want Anderson?”

“Thank you. You know, for helping me.”

Crippet was silent for a moment. And as Blaine exited, he
heard the reply, “Only doing my job.” Shaking his head, Blaine left her behind, and waited beside the elevator for Lizzie.

When she finally emerged, similarly dressed, her hair back to that wispy bun, they called for the elevator. When the door slid open and they stepped inside they realized they were not alone. Inside with them were the two tributes from District 2, also clad in navy and red track suits.
The female (Blaine faintly recalled her name was Maria) looked on at them coldly, while her partner, a large burly boy with black hair slicked back, sneered down at Blaine, and shoved him against the back of the elevator.

“Hey what’s your problem?” Blaine exclaimed, moving back to retaliate but being held back by Lizzie.

“Oooh we got a feisty little fairy this year don’t we? Not sure what you’re doing heading to training. District 1 fairies don’t last five minutes in the arena. You’re wasting your time.” He laughed as he left the elevator when they had reached the gymnasium. Maria following shortly behind him.

Blaine strode out angrily, running his hand over his face.

Lizzie softly placed her hand on his shoulder, “Forget about him. He’s just trying to get in your head.”

“Well mission successful. Who the hell does he think he is? Writing us off before the games have even started.” Blaine snarled, but calming a little at her friendly touch. “Who is that guy anyway?”

“Colin Joules. Remember he was the one who volunteered? He actually wants to play this game. You know what, just ignore it and let’s get started. Where do you want to head off to first?”

Blaine looked around the enormous gymnasium, littered with stations, each for a different purpose, ranging from weapons usage to knowledge of edible plants. “How about outdoor survival?”

“Sounds good, let’s go. God knows we’re going to need it.”

A few hours later, the two District 1 tributes completed all the survival courses. After mastering how to skin animals, which plants to eat or use as medicine, how to stitch wounds and tend to infections, and light a fire in virtually any circumstance, the quick learners moved on to strength exercises. Before them was an obstacle course, complete with jumps, twists and turns. Blaine, naturally fit and quick on his feet, weaved effortlessly through the course at a high speed, much to the awe of the attendant and a few tributes that had stopped to watch the small boy fly through track. Oblivious to the small audience he had attracted, Blaine completed the course in record time. He panted softly, a smile on his face as he spun around to look for Lizzie, and noticed her doubled over midway through the course. Jogging over to her, Blaine looked on, concerned at her heavy breathing.

“Tired already? But we just started.”

Lizzie just wheezed.

“It’s you asthma isn’t it? We can stop if you want.”

“No…” Elizabeth coughed. “You go on… I’ll just…. Sorry…. I’ll just go back to camouflage. You go.”

“Are you sure?”

The petite girl just waved him away, and headed back to the survival stations.

Blaine watched as she left, concerned by how little she was able to last, before heading off to the weapons station. Avoiding the bows and arrows, he listened intently as the instructor explained to him how to throw a spear, and how much force would be needed for it to pierce the skin. After an hour, Blaine managed to throw the spear from an incredible distance with great accuracy. Satisfied with his newfound skill, he moved onto the swords and knives.

There the instructor looked him up and down before asking, “Any previous experience with any sort of blade?”

“Not really.”

“Figured as much. Take this.” He sighed, throwing Blaine a short but heavy sword. “How does that feel?”

“Uh… good?” Blaine replied, shifting it in his grip.

“Well at least you’re holding it right. Okay, come at me." The man instructed, holding up his own blade, but stopping Blaine as soon as he started to swing. “Stop Stop.Listen, I saw you at the obstacle course. You’re a quick little dude. And strong too. Not to mention you’ve got quite a set of lungs, noticing how long you’ve gone without a break. But you have to be smart and play to your strengths. Now attack again, but make sure you cover your vitals, and use your speed as an advantage.”

Blaine did as he was told, and after some practice, began to get the feel of stepping in and out of the challenges, bending over quickly as the blade whizzed past his ear.

“Good, good. Quick reflexes. Let’s work on your defense?” The instructor said, teaching Blaine was to block and parry the strikes.

“Excellent. I think we’re done here. Remember, stay defensive and avoid as many strikes from your opponent as you can. Use your speed and move out of the way. Only when you have a clear window strike. Only then. All you need is one well timed blow.”

“Thanks.” Blaine said breathlessly.

“No problem. My mom was born in District 1 so I’m rooting for you. Don’t disappoint.”

“I won’t.”

The intercom buzzed, “Tributes! Time to show your skills to the game makers. You will be called one by one according to District, females first. Once you’re dismissed, please feel free to continue to practice individually until curfew is called. We’ll start with Elizabeth Browning, District 1.”

Winking at Blaine, Lizzie disappeared through two large doors at the end of the gymnasium.

Knowing his turn was soon to come, Blaine walked over to the water station, drinking his fill and washing his face, combing his sweaty curls back with his fingers into some sense of order.

“Blaine Anderson, District 1.”

Straightening up, Blaine headed over to the two large doors.

“Good luck in there Princess!” Colin jeered, some of the other tributes laughing along with him. Rolling his eyes, Blaine steps through the doors and into another gymnasium, only this is much smaller.

The Gamemakers are situated onto a raised platform and look down at him. Heart fluttering in his chest, Blaine heads over to an obstacle course set up and weaves through it with ease. At its end he throws spears into targets and suspended dummies, thrilled with his accuracy. Above him, a few of the Gamemakers nod in approval, but most remain emotionless.

“Thank you Mr. Anderson. You are dimissed.” One of them calls down to him. Remembering Crippet’s words, Blaine gives an elegant bow, and exits, exhaling in relief.

“How did you do?” Lizzie, waiting for him by the door, asks.

“Fine I guess. Better than I thought. You?”

“Not good. Couldn’t breathe. So I just ended up lighting fires and working on camouflaging a dummy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? I’ll reveal my wicked skills in the arena.” She laughs, but the smile not quite reaching her eyes. “I’m exhausted. Heading back up. Coming?”

“I don’t think so. Think I’m going to stay and work a little on hand to hand combat.”

“You’ll miss dinner.”’

“I’m not hungry. You go on ahead.” Blaine says with a smile.

“You’re loss.” Lizzie shrugs, going back to the elevator.
Blaine walked over to the combat station. The instructor was gone, headed home like all the others, but Blaine slid on a black punching gloves and strapping them securely to his wrists, and strode over to a punching bag and began striking it.

For hours he was there, pounding away at the firm sack, forgetting himself in the repetitive movements. The lights in the gymnasium dimmed, and soon Blaine was left alone, still working hard on each hit. After a while, he slipped off the jacket of the training suit, leaving himself in a white tank. Sweating profusely, damp curls falling into his eyes, muscles rippling and aching with the effort, he refused to stop. Not slowing for an instant, lost in thought.

A cold voice awoke him from his reverie. “Ms. Browning told me you were still down here.” Crippet said.

Blaine ignored her and continued to hit.

“You missed dinner. And the announcement of the scores. Ms. Browning got a four, the poor thing. But you got a nine. Out of twelve. That’s an excellent score. One of the highest. You should be proud.”

Finally, he spun around, eyebrows furrowed and eyes flashing. “What is your problem with my anyway? Ever since I got here you’ve given me nothing but crap.”

Crippet stared at him, shocked.

Now before you continue dear reader, you must know that Pheebee was not always the cold woman she is now. Growing up, Pheebe never considered herself good looking. As a teen she was very awkward and guarded around other people, especially to guys. She would cringe to human touch. She preferred to be left alone. She was considered different from those of her same age. Despite her ineptness, she had one girl friend named Maya, who she loved as a sister. Maya was her complete opposite, and when guys began to take notice of her she enjoyed the attention.

A month before the reaping of Pheebee’s games, they were 17, Maya forced her to join a small gathering with some boys of their district, boys who grew up in the richer side of the town, boys who could get everything that they wanted. Maya left with one, leaving Pheebee alone. Then unthinkable happened. She was attacked by a group of boys, hands snaring, grabbing, trapping, taking from her the one thing she had refused to give to anyone. She was alone, with no one to defend her, no one to see them or hear her muffled cries and pleas.

When Maya’s name was reaped, she immediately volunteered. To some this was a sign of true friendship. To Maya it was all confusion, relief, and fear. To Pheebee it was finally her escape. But somehow, she had managed to survive the games through sheer will. And before her, stood a boy looking so like one of those who had attacked her that one fateful night, but so like herself in his determination.

“I’m sorry Anderson.” She said softly. “Life. The Games. This place.” She chuckled, “It’s made me who I am. And I’ve never had a reason to believe anyone of you could win. But you, there’s something about you. You might have a chance. And I am honored, to be your mentor.” She trailed off, looking up and holding out her hand to the boy who stood panting before her.

Blaine looked at his mentor, resigned. With a sigh, he slipped off his gloves and put them aside, taking the woman’s surprisingly small hand in his own. “Thank you.”

Pulling her hand away slowly, she cleared her throat, “You best be getting some rest. There is some food in your quarters in case you’re hungry. You’re going to have to be alert for your interview tomorrow.”

The tribute just nodded and headed back up to his quarters, showering and eating the small meal left for him before sinking down into the mattress, the day’s exhaustion finally catching up to him as sleep dragged him under for the first time since his arrival at the Capitol.

----------------------------------------------------

The following day, Blaine was allowed some extra hours of sleep (considering he didn’t have to learn how to walk in heels) before York and the prep team whisked him away to prepare him for his interview.

The day passed in a multicolored blur, as the prep team retrimmed and refined him, for what could be the last time. By the end, Blaine’s hair was back in its tamed helmet and he was dressed simply and smartly in a black silk suit, a white oxford underneath, and a matching black silk bowtie, much to his delight. His tanned skin shimmered slightly and his hazel eyes sparkled. After a few last minute pointers from York regarding his stage persona, he was given the pass, and followed York to an area where all the tributes were settling down, waiting for the announcement that would bring them back into the eyes of the Panem. After all, every single citizen of the recently restitched nation would be watching.

Wishing him luck, York disappeared behind the thick metal screen, where he would take a seat with the other stylists among the crowd. Lizzie appeared, as striking as her first appearance in the opening ceremonies in a little black dress with giant silver heels, her shimmering blonde hair done up in elegant ringlets atop her head.

Soon the attendants are ordering the tributes into a single line, preparing them to parade onto the stage. Blaine takes his place behind Lizzie, who would be first. Soon the okay is given and the tributes step onto the stage, cameras whirling and flashing, crowds cheering, the spotlights shining upon them with a heat of a thousand suns.

Somehow managing to remember Crippet’s instruction, Blaine holds his chin high and the small smile back to playing on his rosy lips, as the tributes walk single-file to their seats and take their places in an arc around the stage.

Ceaser Flickerman, the host for two years, is back, his hair taking on a deep green color, gold patterns and eyeliner stenciled onto his face, with a matching suit walks onto the stage with a skip in his step, arms wide as if embracing the audience and they scream their approval. Ceaser is an excellent host, always doing his best to make every tribute shine, making the most boring and timid of interviews timeless. He tells a few jokes, as always, to warm up the crowd, before finally motioning for the interviews to begin.

Lizzie joins him in the centre of the stage and the interview begins, but Blaine is too nervous to pay attention. Instead, he tries to calm his heart as it races, looking up into the sky, excited at seeing a few stars peek from behind the horizon.

Each interview only lasts three minutes, and soon the buzzer sounds, and Blaine rises to take his place next to the host. He shakes his hand warmly before turning to the audience and giving them a winning smile, giving his now signature small wink to the crowd, the cameras in a frenzy to catch it.

“Well well Mr. Blaine Anderson you have created quite buzz since arriving here at the Capitol. A stunning entrance in the opening ceremonies and a ten in training! You are shaping up to be one of this year’s surprises.” The crowd screams and cheers at who has soon become one of the fan favorites, Ceaser just laughs and asks the boy, “Tell me how fun is that, that reaction is unreal!”

“I know but it makes me feel like there’s a zombie behind me.” He replies with a smile as the crowd laughs.

“No it’s all you all you!”

“Well then thank you.” Blaine nods, looking straight into the cameras and at the audience.

“Now, handsome boy like yourself must have girls falling to your feet back at home. Anyone one special?”

Blaine blinks, but replies smoothly without missing a beat, Crippet’s caution ringing in his mind, “In fact I do. I’m in love actually.”

A hush falls over the audience.

“And how did you know that she’s ‘the one’?”

“Well, there’s this moment when you say to yourself, ‘Oh there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever’.” He says quietly amidst a few sighs from the audience who were hanging onto his every word.

“Then I take it as you’re a hopeless romantic. Are you a fan of Valentine’s Day?”

“Honestly I am, I think there’s something really great about a day where you’re encouraged to lay it all on the line and say to somebody, ‘I’m in love with you’.”

“So you’re going to be out there in that arena, fighting for love as it were?”

“Not entirely. My main goal now is to get back to my family, loved ones, and friends back at home. And of course, I wouldn’t want to disappoint the fans here either because there's not a damn thing that I do on my own that's not for my fans or for people that have supported me. So I don't really care about my agenda, I wanna be on yours.” Blaine laughs, motioning to the audience who are now on their feet roaring.

“Look at this reaction from the citizens here. Unbelievable. But honestly, you probably aren’t that new to making a crowd cheer are you?”

“Really, and why would you say that?”

“Let’s just say a little birdie flew by and told me that you are quite a performer in District 1.” Ceasar says with an exaggerated wink at the audience, who are loving every minute of it.

“I am. I love to sing and I perform with a few friends in school. I love it.”

“Well then you wouldn’t mind giving us a little taste would you?” Turning to the audience Ceaser shouts, “Who wants to hear Blaine sing?” The crowd screams their approval, and attendants wheel out a piano. The eager host turns to Blaine, “I know it’s impromptu but do you think you could manage a short piece for us?”

Blaine steals a look at Crippet in the audience and she nods slyly back at him. “Why not?” The crowds are about to burst, and a sudden hush falls over them as Blaine takes a seat on the piano bench and begins to play, the warm notes cutting dreamily through the crisp air. He begins to sing softly, his liquid voice magnified through hundreds of speakers and recorded by thousands microphones and being broadcasted all over Panem.

I have often dreamed of a far off place
Where a hero’s welcome will be waiting there for me
And the crowds will cheer when they see my face
And a voice keeps saying this is where I’m meant to be

I will find my way
I can go the distance
I’ll be there someday
If I can be strong
I know every mile will be worth my while
I will go almost anywhere to feel like I belong

His fingers delicately slide across the keys, hitting every chord right, a beautiful symphony of sounds rising from the stage.

I will beat the odds
I can go the distance
I will face the world, fearless, proud and strong
I will beat the odds
I can go the distance
Until I find my hero’s welcome waiting in your arms


Blaine finished and stands, giving an elegant flourished bow to the audience.

The Capitol is silent for a moment before it erupts into cheers and amidst it the buzzer sounds and Ceasar laughs, “While I’m so sure we would love to have you stay, I’m afraid time’s up. But you’ll be a very tough act to follow. Well best of luck to you, Blaine Anderson, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours. Now District 2, you’re up!”

The roar of the crowd is deafening as Blaine takes his seat, breathless and sweating slightly, a look of relief across on his face as the cameras reluctantly move to the next tribute. And as he settles down for the remaining interviews, he’s oblivious to the fact that miles away, a slender blue eyed boy in District 1 remains standing and clapping, happy tears running on tracks down his face as he knows that underneath the finery, the boy who sings Disney songs and serenades him in flowery meadows, remains unchanged.