Hunger Games: Fandom Style

District 11 (Merlin)

There were advantages to being the mayor's son, even in District 11. For one thing, it meant Arthur never had to worry about working in the fields or going hungry. It meant he wasn't entered for tesserae.
But come Reaping Day, he was still vulnerable. Arthur hated feeling vulnerable. It was why he had insisted on combat lessons from a corrupt peacekeeper. It was why every previous year he had surrounded himself with sycophants to distract himself from his nerves.
Somehow, though, after Merlin had come to work for his father, the sycophants had lost their appeal. Merlin could be an infuriating idiot, but he was an honest infuriating idiot, and sometimes even a funny one. Speaking of Merlin, where was he?
He scanned the crowd. As he did, his eyes fell on the girls' section, and he gave Morgana and Gwen an encouraging wave. Morgana might be adopted, but she was as close as a real sister, and although Gwen was technically only the family cook . . . well, Arthur intended to change that. If they could get through the reaping alive, that is.
There Merlin was. He was laughing with some of the brawnier workers from the fields. Gwaine and Lancelot, he thought they were called. His father didn't approve of them. He thought they were troublemakers. If he saw Merlin with them from where he was sitting grimly on the stage . . .
"Merlin!" he called.
Merlin nodded goodbye to his friends and pushed his way over. "Your highness," he said with a mocking bow.
"Don't call me that," he snapped.
"Of course, Prince Arthur."
"Do you want to go back to the fields?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.
Merlin flinched, then straightened up. "What was it you wanted?" he asked.
Arthur searched for something to say, but nothing came out.
"Your nervous!" Merlin accused.
"Of course not!"
"Really? Then why are you green?"
"Shut up, Merlin."
The woman from the Capital, Nora Leski, started towards the microphone. Red eyeliner bled down her face.
Just like our tributes, Arthur thought grimly. Someday someone's going to have to teach the Capital a lesson about that. Maybe Gwaine and Lancelot had the right of it after all.
"Ladies first," Nora said.
"I know it's polite to let ladies go through line first or whatever, but when it comes to dying, don't you think it would be more polite to let the ladies go second?" Merlin muttered.
Arthur elbowed him.
Nora had paused for dramatic effect. She looked down now. "Morgana Pendragon."
Uther surged to his feet.
A strange fog blurred Arthur's vision. Everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion. Morgana, ascending the stage, face even paler than usual. Nimue, standing from her victor's seat to help Uther back into his chair. The whole world was roaring and rushing.
Someday someone's going to have to teach the Capital a lesson. What was wrong with today?
"Merlin Emrys."
What? Then he saw Merlin walk shakily forward, and he understood.
Lancelot and Gwaine were already lunging forward, but he beat them to it. They wouldn't protect Morgana in the arena like he would.
"I volunteer as tribute."
Uther's face was as white as a sheet, but it was too late to stop Arthur now. He smiled at Morgana as he walked up to the stage.
Sorry, Father, but I have to do this. For all of our sakes.

Arthur wasn't surprised when the door to the visiting room banged open with enough force to dent the wall. He was surprised to see Merlin was the one behind it. He'd been expecting his father.
"Of all the idiotic, donkey brained, dollop headed, things to do! What were you thinking?"
Arthur was a little offended. "I just saved your life!"
"I would have been fine!"
"Oh, yes, those great big muscles of yours would have been pulling sponsors right and left."
"I don't need muscles! I've got magic!"
Arthur blinked. He looked over at Lancelot, who'd slipped in behind Merlin. "Did the sun finally fry his brains?"
"He's not joking. Show him, Merlin."
Great. They were both crazy.
"Pyra Pendragon."
Really, really, cra- Arthur jumped back. A fiery image of a dragon had appeared in the air.
Magic. There was such a thing as magic. And Merlin, Merlin, had it. "And you never mentioned this because . . . "
Merlin shrugged. "You might have mentioned it to your father. He might have mentioned it to the Capital. Next thing you know, I'm being dissected on national TV. But that's not the point. The point is, there was no need for you to volunteer."
"Someone had to," Lancelot said. "Otherwise you'd have used said magic, and next thing we know, you're getting - "
"Dissected on national television," Arthur finished dazedly. Was he dreaming? Was that what was going on?
Merlin paced around the room. "I'm coming with you, of course. I might be able to do something from the Capital."
"How are you going to get there?" Lancelot asked.
"Oh, that part'll be easy. Nimue and I go way back."