Chapter Text
“Gabriel Agreste!”
Gabriel felt oddly calm when his name was announced from the podium. Detached.
It was by no means a surprise. Not with how many extra times he tossed his name in that death raffle in exchange for easing the pangs of hunger that twisted his stomach on such a frequent basis.
There were no gasps from the audience. No cries of sorrow or outrage.
He was no one. Just a friendless, scrawny orphan of fourteen years of age. Perhaps Gina Dupain might remember that time he patched her jacket for a warm meal, but he wouldn’t be missed. Not really.
Scarcely anyone even knew his name. And an unknown name was… a celebration.
Relief was what he knew people would be feeling as he numbly trudged his way up to the podium.
Maybe it was better this way. He wouldn’t be hungry for a week. Someone else’s child wouldn’t have to go into the Games.
Yes… this was for the best.
No parents would have to mourn their son’s reaping today.
🐞🦋🐈⬛
18 YEARS LATER
“Ow,” Marinette hissed lowly, trying to keep her voice down as to not wake up the rest of the house. Her toe was throbbing from slamming it into the wall on her way down the stairs, but the Césaires needed as much rest as possible on today of all days.
One year since Nora had been reaped. One year since they said their goodbyes to her, with a small hope that she’d be the sole survivor to make it out of the Games and be that year’s Victor.
Hopes that had been misplaced.
The only past and living Victor and mentor in District 8, Gabriel Agreste, had even told Alya’s family that he’d believed she had a chance – something he couldn’t say about most of the others he’d trained for the Hunger Games. She’d made it so far. All the way to the final fight.
At least her family had the consolation that she’d gone out saving someone. At least another family didn’t have to mourn.
Marinette hobbled into the kitchen area, spotting Alya’s mother already preparing breakfast.
“Good morning,” Marinette greeted softly. The whole air of the house was understandably dreary.
“Good morning, Marinette.” Marlena forced a smile. “Did you and Alya sleep well?”
Marinette shrugged halfheartedly. “It was okay.”
Marlena nodded. “Thank you again for offering to stay over. It really means a lot to Alya, and to the rest of us as well.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” The words dumped out before Marinette could think better of them, and she winced. That was way too chipper considering the circumstances. “Uh, do you need help making breakfast?”
Marlena’s smile was more genuine this time. “That would be nice, thank you.”
They weren’t alone for long. It was weird to have the twins shuffle in quietly instead of their usual chaotic energy overtaking the room the moment they were awake, but even they understood the gravity of reaping day at their young ages. Had they seemed this down any other day, Marinette would have instantly tried to cheer them up, but that didn’t seem appropriate now.
Their father drifted in not long after that. And then, last of all, Alya.
Not much was said.
Not without Nora there to crack a joke about how skinny Marinette was. Or maybe she would have been wrestling with the twins as they hung off her.
A year to the day.
And this year’s reaping still loomed over them, another threat to their family. And Marinette could do nothing but watch.
She snagged Alya’s hand once they were all seated at the table. “Things will be better this year.”
Alya nodded absently. She was somewhere else right now, somewhere Marinette couldn’t follow.
It would be better this year. There was no way that the same family would be picked twice, and two years in a row at that. That would just be ridiculous. It was a fair drawing, anyone else in District 8 would be picked. Not Alya though. Definitely not. And she was the only one in the family in the age range now. The odds were in their favor.
🐞🦋🐈⬛
The odds were not in the Agrestes’ favor. Both of Adrien’s parents, Gabriel and Emilie, had been tributes in the Hunger Games. His father had won his Games. His mother had lost hers.
Adrien’s father had tried to keep him away from everything, but it didn’t work all that well. The Capitol invited themselves into Gabriel and Adrien’s life every year for an update on the angst-filled drama that apparently did so well up there.
His father never took kindly to that. In fact, he didn’t take kindly to a lot of what the Capitol did. Adrien typically avoided his father around the time of the Games given how his demeanor changed. A few days before the reaping, his father grew more reserved and cold than usual, often keeping to his study or his bedroom until he left on the train with the tributes. Then he would return after the Games short tempered and exhausted. It was at least a week or two later before he’d start acting like himself again.
Adrien didn’t hold it against him. Adrien hadn’t been in the Games, and he’d been too young to remember his mother given that she’d had him less than a year before her Games. It wasn’t nearly as painful for him as it was his father.
“Ratings…” Adrien heard his father muttering from the living room, where he was watching the early coverage of the Games. “It’s always about the ratings…”
As Adrien descended the stairs, he could hear more from the TV, where Alec Cataldi was narrating over old footage from last year’s Games. “Last year Nino Lahiffe won using the Turtle Miraculous! Usually one of the more offensive ones gets to the end, but it definitely makes us wonder what could happen this year!”
Adrien didn’t know much about the Miraculous. He knew that they were specialized magical jewels that were used as weapons in the Games. He knew that his father had won using the Miraculous of the Butterfly. And he knew that his mother had died using the Miraculous of the Peacock. Anything else was hard to figure out because–
The second Adrien approached the doorway his father turned off the TV, rubbing his temples with enough force to break down a wall. He tried not to show Adrien the kind of stress he felt but Adrien could see it anyway. The last Games had been particularly rough on him given how far Nora had gotten. Adrien was pretty sure that was the first time his father had had hope in one of his tributes in years.
“Best we go,” his father said distantly. “The reaping is soon.”
“Yes, Father.” Adrien nodded.
It would be okay. His father always made it through, every year. In a few weeks it would be back to normal and everything would be fine.
🐞🦋🐈⬛
Marinette clung tightly to Alya’s hand as the two of them tried to avoid bumping into the other girls around them. They all stood in the square, initially filed into neat rows, but they’d already spilled into a giant mess instead, awaiting the ‘presentation’ that would soon come.
“Alya, I promise it’s going to be okay,” Marinette rambled. “There’s no way the same family would get picked two years in a row. The odds for that are literally impossible. They have to be. You’ve got this.”
A soft smile showed up on Alya’s face. “I know, girl. It’s okay, thank you. I’m fine.”
A smile. Mission accomplished so far.
This very bad, terrible awful day just needed to be over quickly. They could go back to Alya’s, split a loaf of bread and just get everything over with. They’d have a few days of peace before the Games truly started, and until then Marinette could just keep it out of Alya’s mind.
…She hoped it wasn’t someone else she knew well either. She tried not to look at the other girls’ faces around them. It might be any of them. Or any of the boys over in their group.
Except Adrien.
Marinette let out a little sigh. She was so glad Adrien wasn’t really in the running. He was too rich, being their Victor’s kid. No extra entries in exchange for food for him.
She craned her neck a little, looking to the boys’ side to see if she could catch a glimpse of his blond hair.
“Girl, really?” Alya laughed. “Even right now?”
“Eep!” Marinette dropped her head, cheeks burning. Although Alya’s laugh was a nice reprieve from what they’d been going through this morning.
Not now! She was supposed to be here for Alya. Adrien could wait.
Their group’s awkward shuffling finally came to a stop, leaving them with a decent view of the stage from their position.
Marinette tried to take a deep breath, but the air around them was stale and hot with how many people were pressed close together in the summer heat.
She could not wait to get back to her sewing instead of this. Unlike a lot of people, she at least had the advantage of enjoying the work she had to do for their district’s main export of textiles. If only she could get Alya into it more. Maybe that would help her be less stressed–
Marinette was jolted out of her train of thought by the loud thump thump of someone test tapping a microphone.
“Happy Hunger Games, everyone!” Nadja Chamack announced from the podium, her trademark smile spread across her face. Looked like she’d gone with pink this year for her hair. “Welcome to the reaping of the 74th Annual Hunger Games!”
The crowd replied with a generic applause, one heavily encouraged by the armed guard of Peacekeepers on the stage.
“Now, before we begin, we have a very special film. Brought to you all the way from the Capitol.” Nadja said, gesturing to the screens above them.
The voice of their esteemed President, Audrey Bourgeois, started blaring through the speakers lining the square. “War. Utterly terrible war.”
The screens showed pictures and video, weaving into a narrative as President Bourgeois narrated over it.
“Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This was the despicable uprising that rocked our very land. Thirteen miserable little districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Sister turned on sister. And then came the splendid peace, hard fought, sorely won.”
Images of a burning landscape appeared with Peacekeepers marching in perfect formation over the horizon. “A people rose up from the ashes and a new, beautifully better, era was born. But freedom has a cost, and the pathetic traitors were defeated.”
She really didn’t hide her true opinions.
“We swore as a nation that we would never know this loathsome treason again. And so it was decreed that each year the vile districts would offer up, in tribute, one young man and woman to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice. The lone Victor, bathed in riches – not as much as me, mind you – would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our glittering future. This is…”
Pause for dramatic effect. Marinette thought sarcastically.
“The Hunger Games!”
Marinette had the whole speech burned into her mind. Everyone did. They only had to listen to it every single year while wondering which of their classmates was going to be dragged away in just a few minutes.
The crowd clapped with a forced enthusiasm. Marinette saw Alya shifting nervously. It was getting closer.
Nadja cleared her throat. “Oh, I just love that. All right, as usual, ladies first.”
As Nadja crossed the stage to the large glass bowl, all Marinette could think about was the thousands of slips inside. Alya was safe. Marinette was safe. It would be okay, even with the extra slips they’d put in for food.
Nadja grabbed out the slip and announced in a crisp, clear voice, “Alya Césaire!”
Marinette felt Alya’s hand go stiff. She wished hers hadn’t as well. Both girls stayed frozen as the others looked at them, the Peacekeepers already heading their way.
“No, no, no…” Alya muttered, too low for anyone but Marinette to hear.
“Alya, I–”
They were getting closer.
“Make sure the twins are taken care of,” Alya said quickly. “For me.”
The Peacekeepers approached, grabbing Alya’s arm gently and pulling her free of Marinette’s grasp. They started walking her toward the stage. Alya kept her head high, determined to not let her emotions show.
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening again.
Marinette’s vision blurred with forming tears. She’d just been here last year, watching Nora get taken the same way. If Nora couldn’t win, what possible chance did Alya have? Their family… The twins…
Marinette rushed forward before she really realized what she was doing. A couple of the other girls in the crowd yelped as she bumped past them.
“Marinette, don’t! They’ll kill you!” someone cried after her.
She didn’t listen.
She broke past the edge of the crowd, finally drawing the full attention of the Peacekeeper nearby.
They headed straight for her.
Alya twisted around with wide eyes. “Marinette–”
“I volunteer!” she gasped, trying to get oxygen back to her lungs. “I volunteer as tribute!”
🐞🦋🐈⬛
Gabriel couldn’t believe it. Nora’s sister. The odds were miniscule.
He rubbed his forehead with one hand, his elbow resting on the arm of the Capitol-supplied Victor’s chair he was forced to sit in year after year on the stage that was as hideous as it was uncomfortable.
There was never a good reaping, but a second tribute from the same family so soon…
Another life in his hands he would most certainly not be able to protect.
Nora had been as close to a mentor’s perfect dream of a tribute as one could get outside the Career districts. The best chance Gabriel had ever had at a victory. But her sister wasn’t even half her size.
Except that drawing wasn’t the most surprising thing. He wished that was the most surprising thing. The way Alya looked at the girl who’d screamed out like her life depended on it – with a mix of shock and anger – was one that Gabriel could remember all too well from another time…
“Marinette, no! You can’t!”
“You stay with your family,” the other girl, Marinette, insisted. She looked familiar, but Gabriel couldn’t place it.
The tension in the air between the girls could only vanish with a Cataclysm. Despite the full crowd of onlookers, everyone was silent. Nadja fingering through the notes on the podium was the only disturbance in the air. It took her a few moments of shuffling to find the page talking about volunteers. It was uncommon in District 8– Gabriel had only ever seen two in his time as a mentor. They hadn’t come home.
“Well thank you, uh, Miss…” Nadja trailed off.
“Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette said. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”
The baker’s daughter. Gabriel had seen her many times throughout town. He hadn’t known about her relationship with the Césaires, but Gabriel never really left his own secluded area of town for long.
The Peacekeepers escorted Alya – who was giving Marinette a stare that could rattle anyone – back to the crowd, and Marinette – now flanked by Peacekeepers herself – was taken to the stage. Gabriel saw her breathe slowly and carefully, keeping her composure extremely well considering the circumstances.
Nadja forced a smile on her face. “Welcome to the stage, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”
The crowd clapped forcefully, some even with a hint of aggression. Gabriel could see anger on a few faces out in the audience. This girl was not supposed to be here.
“And now for the boys.” Nadja nodded, crossing to the opposing end of the stage.
She grabbed the slip. The second she did Gabriel felt his stomach drop the way it had for the last two years. Adrien had been in the running, but his name was only in the three times. No more, no less. The odds were in their favor.
“Adrien Agreste,” Nadja said, a slight gasp slipping through her carefully constructed stage persona.
No.
No!
Gabriel felt himself surge to his feet.
The audience parted around Adrien, but Gabriel couldn’t see a teenager standing there anymore.
All he could see was the motherless little boy who had been dropped into his shaking arms after Emilie had died. He had her eyes.
The eyes he saw every night in his sleep.
How was he going to get through this…
Gabriel clenched his fists as he felt the eyes of the Peacekeepers on him. The whole nation was probably watching him right at this moment.
There was nothing he could do here. Any move he made would only make things worse for Adrien.
His son was in the Hunger Games now.
And he would do everything in his power to help him win.