Hunger Games: Fandom Style

The Feast

It was traditional for the Capital to call a feast during the late stages in the Games. The tradition ran so deep, it was almost a rule.
Arthur was done playing by their rules. There would be a feast. But he was calling it.
Well, to be fair, it had been Will who had first suggested it. Merlin had objected on the ground that he wanted to face Morgana alone.
That wasn't happening. Arthur had broken the tie and composed the message that would be playing in three people's ears very soon.
There was, of course, no point in inviting Morgana. There was someone else still in the arena, but none of them could remember who it was, and Merlin said that without a name, he couldn't send the message. Unfortunate, but it probably wouldn't matter.
Probably.

When Harry had first met up with the wolves, he had assumed they were mutts. It was only when they ran to look at the explosion with open curiosity that he had realized that they were animagi of some sort.
He'd stared out at the billowing smoke. "Someone's being ostentatious." Hermione would have been proud of that word.
The wolves had nodded in agreement. Eventually, they'd turned away from the flames, only to realize they were in a rather awkward situation. Neither side had attacked while the other was distracted. They'd been standing together for several minutes now. It just felt wrong to pick up their weapons and go at each other.
Apparently, they had felt the same. For a long minute, they'd all just stood there staring at each other.
"Any idea what could have done that?" Harry finally asked.
The lead wolf shook her head.
"I didn't think so."
The smaller one shimmered before turning into Red. She dusted off her clothes self-consciously. "Leah says 'who' might be a better question than 'what'. There have been strange powers at work this year. Besides ourselves, we have already faced a vampire."
That didn't sound pleasant. "I fought Morgana. She's the most powerful witch I've ever fought."
"I don't remember seeing her face in the sky."
Harry shook his head in frustration. "We didn't get to finish the fight. We both walked away. Luna didn't."
"Could she have done this?"
"Probably," Harry admitted. "I'm not looking forward to facing her again."
Red didn't look too excited by the prospect either, but the remaining wolf growled with seeming enthusiasm.
The witch Morgana has killed two more of our number. I know her power. It is great. If we are to defeat her, we must do so together. Come to the Cornucopia within one hour. This is no Capital feast. We must unite, or we must die.
They froze in shock as the message rang through their heads. It played through one more time.
We must unite, or we must die.
Harry wasn't sure how sincere the offer of truce was, but he knew his answer. "I'm going," he said quietly. "What about you?"
Red looked to Leah uncertainly. Leah hesitated a moment before nodding decisively.
"We might as well together, hadn't we? We'll look stronger if we appear as a group."
"All right," Red said a little tremulously. Harry offered her his arm.
"Shall we?"

Leah led the way, cautiously peeking her nose around the final corner. Three boys were sitting on the top of the Cornucopia. They'd laid their weapons further down the golden tail.
It was a good position. It practically screamed 'neutral' but it was easily defensible, and they would be able to get to their weapons long before anyone could get within striking distance.
Assorted treasures from the Cornucopia had been reduced to rubbish by the ordeal they'd been through. They huddled disconsolately on the pavement. Leah picked her way through, sniffing.
Then the dark haired one - she didn't really recognize him which was strange - turned his head toward her and smiled in greeting.
Leah froze. Oh, no. No, no, no, no. This isn't happening. This totally isn't happening.
Leah Clearwater had just imprinted.
Maybe she hadn't, she tried to reassure herself. After all, she didn't feel like the others had when they'd done it. She felt no slavish impulse to do whatever this total stranger wanted. It was a lot more subtle than that. A faint tug on her eyes that made it hard to look away from him. An impulse to change forms and walk up and talk to him.
She rolled her eyes. Like that would go over well. Unlike Red, her clothes didn't magically reappear when she shifted back to human form.
It was just . . . he seemed sad, somehow. It was in every line of his posture, hidden in the depths of his eyes. It wasn't a recent sadness, she could tell. It was something bone deep that he'd fallen in the habit of. It was a look she'd seen on many of the victors. It had become so much a part of them that they often didn't even seem to realize that not everyone lived like them. Not everyone enjoyed brief moments of happiness with the horrible knowledge that soon it would snatched away from them. Not everyone woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares far too frightening to scream about and lay there, sweating and sobbing, and praying for the morning light to come.
The boy made them look positively cheerful.
Oh, boy. She had imprinted. She wanted to smack herself. Or possibly the boy. Or anyone, really. She wasn't picky.
Unfortunately, that would be difficult with paws.
She sighed. Life could be so unfair.
But she walked forward with more of a spring in her step then she'd had in months.
Adios, Sam. I've moved on.
Arthur stood. "You got our message."
"We did," Harry confirmed. "You want to team up to fight Morgana."
"It makes sense," Will put in quietly. "These two know more about her than anyone alive, and from what little I've seen, she's unquestinably dangerous. We'd be fools to try and take her out alone."
The wolf huffed, then disappeared into the mouth of the Cornucopia. She reappeared a minute later, wearing still damp clothes she must have scavenged from the pile. She looked the three boys over critically. "It does make sense. Assuming you're not leading us into a trap."
"If we wanted you dead, we had you," Arthur pointed out. "A few well aimed arrows, and a bit of swordwork would have created the perfect ambush.
"Maybe. Unless you're allied with Morgana and just want to let her do all the hard work."
Merlin laughed. "She tried to kill Arthur. Trust me, we're not allies."
Leah shrugged. "It just seems suspicious. In the interviews, you were all but swearing undying loyalty to her."
"I was not . . . fully aware of her character at the time."
"The Games bring out the worst in all of us," Harry agreed. He looked at Merlin curiously. "Who's he, by the way?"
"Merlin," Arthur supplied. "He snuck into the arena."
The others blinked.
"You were named after the great sorcerer?"
"No," Merlin corrected. "I am him." To accentuate his words, the concrete rippled around them. Those on the ground stumbled back.
Harry's jaw had dropped. Leah looked speculative.
"No fireworks?"
Merlin grinned. "I save those for special occasions."
"Assuming taking down a witch qualifies as a special occasion, I'm in. I've gotta admit that I'm curious."
"If she's in, I'm in," Red said.
"So am I," Harry said, still shooting looks at Merlin.
Will grinned. "Let the witchhunt begin!"
Merlin stood and rolled his shoulders. "That brings back memories," he complained. "Now all we need are a few pitchforks."
Leah ducked back into the mouth of the cornucopia, smirking. "Will a trident do?"