Hunger Games: Fandom Style

"Stay Alive."

Sherlock sat in his room and stared at the wall. Halfway across a continent, Mycroft did the same. For once, Sherlock's mind was completely blank.
Irene opened the door. "It's time."
"It's time, Mycroft," John said.
Wordlessly, the two brothers stood.

Merlin checked through the backpack he planned to carry for the thirteenth time. "Water, food, matches, fever medication, a roll of bandages . . . Do you think I should grab some rolls?"
"Merlin."
"You're right, there's not really room." He slung it over his shoulder and started pacing around the room. "Can I get you anything? More food? Something to drink?"
"Merlin."
"I wish we had more time. We should have made alliances. I knew that was mistake. I'm sure we could have found some way to keep them from noticing me, I mean, I'm going to be invisible, and I could be careful not to bump into anybody -"
"Merlin. Why is it that whenever you're calm, I'm panicking, and when you're panicking, I'm calm?"
"I'm always panicking. I just hide it whenever you need a pep talk."
"Thank you for your confidence. Come on, let's go."
Merlin pulled the cloak on. They walked out to where Morgana and Nimue were waiting. Morgana smiled. "Ready to bring honor to our district?"
"There is no honor in this." Was Merlin right? Was she hiding something behind that smile?
"Fate be with you," Nimue said, but she was looking at a seemingly empty spot in the air.

Uther sat at the dining room table. It could seat twelve. Today, he sat alone. The two seats beside him felt even more conspicuously empty than the others.
The pre-Games talk was playing on the television. He'd had one of the servants bring it in so that he wouldn't miss a moment. A red clock counted down at the bottom of the screen.
Guinevere brought in his breakfast. "Thank you." His hand shook slightly as he picked up the silverware. "Turn it up. I can't hear a thing."
Guinevere did so and then stepped back.
Caesar started talking about this year's arena. "It should be the most dangerous we've had yet."
Uther's knuckles went white. Pictures of the tributes flashed across the screen. Guinevere stared at the one of Arthur, a fist pressed against her trembling mouth.

Natasha held up the necklace Clint had given her. "Help me with the clasp?"
The metal felt cold against her neck. She repressed a shiver.
The clasp snapped shut. She turned around and kissed him. The kiss was a spot of warmth in the sudden cold that numbed her.
"Ready?"
"Ready."

Harry leaned on the balcony railing, Sirius beside him.
"You ready?"
"Yeah," Harry lied.
Sirius probably knew that, but he accepted the answer. "Be careful in there. It changes you. You see terrible things. You do terrible things. And the difference between the winner and the losers is that the victor has to live with it." Sirius put a hand on his shoulder. "You're a good man, Harry. Don't let them change that."
Harry nodded wordlessly.
Sirius embraced him before they walked back to the others. Harry helped to support Sirius as they went.
Lupin nodded once, his face right, and clapped Harry on the shoulder. Tonks, hair uncharacteristically muted, gave him a quick hug. "Good luck, Harry."
Luna was sitting on the edge of the couch reading the latest edition of the Quibbler. She'd painted her nails bright yellow and stenciled flowers on them. She looked up. "Are we leaving already?"
Tonks nodded. Luna hopped to her feet and gave the magazine to Lupin. "I promised to let Ginny read it when I was done. Would you give it to her?"
"You'll do it yourself," Harry told her forcefully.
She beamed at him. "That's nice of you, but I knew from the start I wouldn't be coming back. I don't think I could kill anyone. Are you ready, Harry?"
He offered her his arm.

The Weasley clan stood pressed together on the rain slicked streets. Hermione stood next to them, bouncing nervously. "Over a fourth of all deaths happen in the first twenty-four hours - "
"If you say another word, I will hex your mouth shut," Ginny said fiercely.
"Ginny!" her mother reproved.
Ginny just stared straight ahead, pale faced, as the clock ticked down on twenty-three lives.