Archive of Our Own ^beta

As one of the furthest districts away from the Capitol, District 9 wasn't known for much. It produced grain and an assortment of flavourless foods that kept the working people running, and the capital elite turning their noses up. Located at the northern centre of Panem, the District was covered in golden fields of grain and wheat, littered with the occasional settlements and towns.

A rooster crowed somewhere across the main settlement of Teff, soon to be joined by a choir of other roosters waking the people. Liam shifted in his bed for a moment before pushing himself upright with an accompaniment of groans and complaints. He took a moment to look around his room, everything was lit up with the usual golden light that streamed through the windows. His mother tells him that's why everyone in their District has such golden blonde hair, something about being the sun's favourite… well that was only when the crops were doing well.

Liam kicked off his covers and stumbled his way into the main part of the small house his family called home. His eyes protested the whole way, he had barely slept the night before, his stomach twisted with anxiety for the reaping. He knew better than to spend his days dreading it, either his name would be called or not. There were thousands of other boys in 9 and he had been taught early not to waste his life in fear.

But he couldn't help the small shake in his hands as he pulled on his work clothes.

As he got ready for his shift at the mills he fought back his anxieties. The probability of his name being called was one in thousands. That should have calmed him but his brain just started running through all of his friends, his brothers, the people he could lose in one unlucky second. He shook his head and pulled on his boots, making his way to his mothers room to say goodbye before he started his shift. Between his work and the reaping he wouldn't have the time to see her until he came home at the end of the day.

“Ma… I’m off now. I’ll see you after the ceremony.” he spoke quietly into the room as his mother sat up in her own bed with a slight grimace.

“Give your mother a kiss then.” she responded tiredly, calling him over.

Liam sighed but walked over to his mother, letting her kiss him on the cheek and fuss over his golden blonde hair before he pulled away. Before he could walk back out of the room she grabbed his wrist, hesitating just a moment before letting him out of her grasp.

“Be good today.” Liam just nodded and walked out of her room, glancing over to his younger brother's closed door before deciding not to wake them up. He walked his way out of the house, running a hand down his face before making sure the door was closed.

It was a short walk to the mills, he passed the Calver’s who were cooking breakfast as usual, handing Liam a piece of toast as he slid a small silver coin onto the windowsill of their kitchen. As he ate his toast slowly he passed more houses, waving at people getting ready on their porches and staying quiet when he passed the houses filled with weeping. Though many people in the District kept a sense of flippancy when it came to the reaping, there were always a handful of mothers quietly cursing the Capitol each year, filled with the fear they tried so desperately not to show to their children.

The mill was as entertaining as usual, it was a large building made out of pale wood and old thatch, never fully renovated even though the Capitol sends metal to upgrade the peacekeepers building every few years. There were two large doors on either side of the large building, one to ship the wheat in and one to ship the milled wheat and processed flour out to the District. Liam’s classmates were used to waking up early to crank large levers and turn the collected wheat into something the District could actually use. It wasn't long before people started quietly slipping off the work floor, the sun that shone through the open doors and windows had creeped its way half way up the walls. It was almost time for the reaping.

Liam glanced over to a couple of the boys his age. He knew most of them took out tesserae, they must be up to 20 slips by now, or even 30. And as each of them filed quietly out the door, hanging up their large aprons, he counted his lucky stars that he didn't have to put his name in any more than necessary.

As they quietly walked across to the centre of town, Liam noticed that it was even quieter than when he had left just a few hours earlier even though all the whole District would be awake by now. The silence did nothing but make the shake in his hands worse. The thought that someone he knew could be shipped off in a train without so much as a goodbye made the toast he had eaten so slowly that morning threaten to come up again.

He looked out at the long golden fields that covered as far as he could see out into the District and he let one of his hands fall out of his pocket and brush against the strands of wheat as each step he took brought him closer to the reaping pens. It was probably unethical to keep them in the old pens according to their age group but the peacekeepers that lived in 9 didn’t care. He had walked the same steps to the reaping for years now and each year a small part inside of Liam told him to just run. To make his way through the fields until there was nothing around him but the warm lines of wheat and there wasn't a building or pen in sight.

But he pushed it down, like always. It was a foolish plan really, he wouldn't make it more than 500 meters before he would be found. But that didn’t stop his brain from dreaming the idea up every year.

As the silent line of boys finally inched closer to the town centre, their pace slowed. Each boy was more hesitant than the last. Signing in and standing in one of the pens finalised the fact that you could have a chance of dying. No one had won the games from 9 in a long time. Maybe even 20 years ago. Around the 33rd and 38th games if he actually remembered correctly. His chances of being picked were already slim, but if his name was called, his chances of winning would be even slimmer.

Liam hadn’t even realised he had gotten lost in his thoughts again until he took another step forward and made contact with a table. He had made it to the front of the line and now a peacekeeper was impatiently waiting with his hand out. Liam let the peacekeeper take his blood print before being pushed out and guided into the ‘17 year old boys’ pens like cattle. He found himself standing between a boy he recognised from class and the mills and one he didn't recognise at all. Liam thought about where the other boy might work for a moment before the latch of their age group pen snapped shut loudly and he stared at his shoes trying to ignore the way his stomach was fluttering and flipping.

Their Mayor droned on for a moment with a few words about the games and the importance, the monotone of his voice and the way it sounded like each sentence had to force its way out wasn’t lost on Liam, not even the wealthiest man in town wanted to be here. District 9’s escort had changed a lot through the years as they were promoted and demoted through the ranks, the one standing in front of Liam now must be new because she kept fidgeting with her hair and trying to avoid the eye contact of the crowd.

As she stepped up to the podium dressed in a ghoulish purple dress that clashed with everything around, it couldn't be clearer that she didn't belong here. She cleared her throat before finding the microphone and speaking into it in a slightly shaky but cheerful tone.

“Greetings District 9!”

She was met with silence and fidgeting, the people around Liam were either avoiding eye contact as much as possible or staring her in the eye at some kind of attempt at confrontation. She nodded as if she understood the reason the whole District was silent which made Liam roll his eyes before she picked up the microphone and made her way over to one of the bowls.

“Let’s start with the ladies shall we!” she offered in that mockingly cheerful tone again. She dug around in the girls' names before pulling two up at the same time, looking at both before shrugging and tossing one of the names back into the bowl, causing a collective gasp to come from the girls pens on the other side of the square.

The escort made her way back to the center of the stage before speaking the chosen girls name out into the pens of crowded kids.

“Emmer Martin! Come up here darling!”

Liam sighed and looked down at his shoes again as murmuring broke out among the girls. It was a name he recognised. He and Emmer certainly weren't friends but had been in the same class a few times, the most he knew about her now was that she collected some of the wheat that he had to mill.

He looked up as Emmer made her way through the girl's pen and towards the stage slowly, her golden brown hair was tied up in an assortment of coloured ribbons that used to be used to tie groups of wheat together, a look of both shock and resignation on her face. As she reached the steps to the stage, the escort grabbed her by the arm and playfully pulled her the rest of the way up until they were standing next to each other, the cream pants and shirt that Emmer was wearing making the escort look incredibly garish in the purple dress. Now standing next to someone Liam’s age, he realised the escort can't be older than 20, a stark change to the senior escort at the last few reapings, and something some of the older boys behind him hollered at before a few of them were butted with the peacekeepers guns.

Emmer stood quietly beside the escort, picking at a thread on her shirt while the mayor motioned at the escort to move things along. She left Emmer standing alone to walk to the boy's name bowl and dug her hand around in there before picking one of the papers stuck to the left side of the bowl.

Liam’s breathing grew harder and he found himself not being able to properly catch his breath and she unfolded the name. What if it was someone he knew? What if it was Elliot next to him or even one of his brothers. They had both just turned 13 the year before so their chances were even smaller than his but probability doesn't care about fairness. His breathing became harder as he realised the name slip could also be his, his heartbeat was so loud in his ears that he could barely hear any of the whispers around him or the shifting of people's shoes as they fidgeted. He looked back up at the stage, hands shaking, just in time to hear the name called by the escort.

“Liam Lawson? Come on, come up here!”