Hamilton angst book

Alliance

Hunger Games Jamilton AU.

Word count: 1.912

Thomas crouched in the underbrush, watching the night sky curiously. As the anthem played, he became more and more anxious— he tried to recall the number of canons he heard throughout the first day. There were at least seven or eight during the bloodbath then a few more during the day. It seemed the careers were determined to eliminate the competition right away. He cringed at the thought. He was fairly tall for his age, his body filled out and toned, but with no skill to go along with it, he was rightfully worried.

As the faces of the dead flashed through the sky, Thomas held his breath. He hadn’t really formed any alliances, but seeing the face of his district partner illuminated across the arena, wasn’t exactly something he wanted. After a few minutes it was over, and he was looking up at only smoky darkness.

Angelica seemed to have been spared, and for that he was grateful. Perhaps if he could meet up with her, they could win the games together, as was allowed this year. He knew it wasn’t always the case, so he should count himself lucky. Angelica had proven to be strong and skilled, earning herself a training score of nine. Thomas’ own score had been a seven— lower than his partner’s but decent, at least in his mind. His one hope was to reunite with her; she was quite honestly his best shot.

His thoughts were suddenly torn away from the black starless sky, from where the faces of the fallen had been displayed, and towards a rustle in the forest. He turns his head, scanning the darkness with narrowed eyes. He felt his breathing quicken as well as his heartbeat. The games were no place for someone like him, Thomas thought to himself, as he reached for the serrated hunting knife he’d been lucky to find in a bag, laying a hundred or so feet from the cornucopia.

“W-who’s there?” He asked, his voice wavering, quivering as much as his fingers which were wrapped tightly around the handle of the blade.

With every ounce of his being, he wished for Angelica to emerge from the trees. A smirk pulled across her lips, and in her hands, weapons from inside the cornucopia. Perhaps she’d punch him playfully, then chide him for the lousy bag he managed to grab, because throughout the few days he’d known her, he would say that sounded like something she’d do.

The rustling got louder, and soon Thomas could see a figure approaching, slowly, as if they were struggling or staggering along. His heart pounded quicker, pumping him with adrenaline, and sickly worry. They looked to be around the same height as Angelica— could this person be his district partner? Without a second thought, he acted on his emotions. Images of his only friend in the games, beaten and bloodied, wouldn’t leave him alone. He ran towards them, keeping his knife in his hand, but paying no mind to it.

“Angelica, oh god, is that you?”

Finally they came into view, and Thomas realized his mistake. “You’re from district four,” he said under his breath, “career.”

He backed up, fumbling with his knife. Thomas had never fought anyone before, let alone a tribute, trained to win the games he so despised. He wondered to himself for a moment, if this one had volunteered for this. If he longed for the glory some believed they could obtain through killing innocents. His eyes trailed over him. He was fairly thin, but toned. Bloodstains stood out against his tanned complexion, trailing up his arms, but stopping at his elbows where the rolled up sleeves of his windbreaker began. There were more on his face and neck, some matting his long dark hair, but none of it seemed to be his.

It was when Thomas let his eyes fall lower, that he noticed the way the other tribute was favouring his right leg, keeping it off the ground, his hand clenching the fabric of his joggers.