Chapter Text
Prologue
Waverly despises combat training. It’s her least favorite part of the day. She actually enjoys some of her classes- learning about the history of Panem intrigues her and she finds her botany class interesting even if the only plants they study are ones likely to be found in the arena. Combat training, on the other hand, is a stressful hour and a half of her trying to find the fine balance between not getting beaten to a pulp and appearing sufficiently useless at wielding whatever weapon they’ve been given that day.
Waverly’s not a bad fighter, she’s actually a decent shot and surprisingly strong given her petite stature, but that’s the problem. Waverly doesn’t want to be a good fighter. She hates fighting, she hates the idea of hurting people, and she hates the Hunger Games. So she made the choice her first year at the Career Academy to be complete shit in her combat training classes to ensure she would never be chosen to volunteer for the games and never have to participate in the horrid, televised killing spree she was forced to watch each year.
Her plan to flunk every combat assessment would have been a lot easier had her sister not taught her how to work a bow and deliver a mean roundhouse kick as a child, but Waverly doesn’t blame her. Wynonna had only been looking out for her, like she always does, and wanted to ensure Waverly could hold her own on the schoolyard and have the skills she needed to survive if they were to ever fall on hard times and Wynonna wasn’t around to look after her.
Despite her training from Wynonna, Waverly was quickly able to master the delicate art of failing just enough to be dismissed by the instructors as a potential tribute, but not enough to be kicked out of school or kicked in the face during a spar. Her little game was exhausting though, and she left combat classes drenched in sweat and with a new array of bruises each day.
Waverly’s just on her way to the locker rooms to change into her combat attire when a hand circles her wrist and tugs her into an empty hallway. She shrieks from surprise and whirls around to defend herself from the attacker when a second hand is clamped over her mouth, silencing her screams. Waverly tries her best to squirm out of the stranger’s hold but is halted by the sound of a familiar voice.
“Waves, calm down, it’s just me,” The voice whispers.
“Wynonna?” Waverly tries to speak but it comes out muffled from the hand that remains clamped over her mouth.
“I need to talk to you but not here and you have to be quiet okay?” Wynonna’s tone is urgent.
Waverly nods her head to let her sister know she understands. The hand is dropped from her mouth and she’s released from the tight hold.
“Was that really necessary?” She whispers, rubbing the wrist that was previously restrained.
“Yes, now shush and follow me,” Wynonna answers, leading Waverly down a maze of hallways and eventually into an old utility closet that she picks open with a wire she produces from her back pocket.
Once they’re in the small, dusty space, Wynonna speaks at a normal volume again. “Sorry kid, the hallways are bugged. I couldn’t risk the administration overhearing us.”
Waverly furrows her brow, “They are?’
Wynonna nods, “Every main corridor has at least ten microphones and the smaller hallways have them posted outside water fountains and lockers, anywhere students like to gather.”
Waverly’s jaw drops at this new information and she tries to think back to what she’s said while chatting with her friends in the hallways. She hopes nothing embarrassing or God forbid, something that could be deemed treasonous.
“They spy on us now?” Waverly asks, shocked.
“Sweetie, they’ve always been spying on us, but that’s not what I came to tell you.”
Waverly takes in her sister’s serious face and fidgeting hands and feels a knot form in her stomach. Whatever Wynonna has to tell her, it can’t be good.
“What is it? Did you get in trouble again?”
Wynonna’s academy record is less than perfect given her fiery disposition and tendency to talk back to nearly every member of the staff. She’s been found tousling in the courtyard on several occasions and Waverly always feared she wouldn’t make it to graduation before getting expelled. Now with the term coming to an end in just under a month and Wynonna in her final year at the academy, Waverly just hopes her sister can make it out with a diploma and a shot at a decent job as anything other than a peacekeeper.
“Not exactly,” The older girl’s eyes flicker off to the side before settling back on Waverly, a tell that she’s nervous and avoiding what she’s about to say next. “It’s sort of the opposite actually. The dean called me into his office to talk about my uh, exceptional combat record,” Wynonna gives a forced laugh and Waverly is utterly confused.
“Well that doesn’t sound so bad…” It’s no secret that Wynonna excels at combat training. She may barely scrape by in most of her classes, but when it comes to sparring, she’s a straight A student.
“Yeah except for the part where he told me I’ve been selected as the female volunteer tribute from my class.” The words rush out of Wynonna’s mouth like if she says them fast enough, they’ll somehow hurt less.
“The… the what?” Waverly stutters out, the blood rushing to her head and a tightness forming in her chest. She knows exactly what her sister just said, but her brain refuses to believe it’s true.
“They want to send me into the Games, baby girl,” Wynonna states, her voice hollow.
“No!” Waverly cries. “They-they can’t,” Tears start to pool in her eyes as panic takes over. “They can’t do that. They can’t take you from me!”
As the words come out of her mouth, Waverly knows they’re false. They can do that. The academy administration composed of powerful District 2 officials, all loyal to the Capitol, can do whatever they please as long as they continue to produce high-performing, entertaining tributes to boost the Game’s ratings.
Wynonna grips her arms and it centers Waverly, though the tears continue to spill down her cheeks. “They can try, but I’m not gonna let ‘em. I’m not going anywhere without you, okay? I promise.”
As much as Waverly wants to believe her, she’s not sure she can. “But how-”
“I said no.”
Waverly blinks slowly, “You can do that?’
“Well…” Wynonna’s confidence falters and Waverly’s heart sinks. “Listen, I don’t think it’s happened before, or if it has it was a long time ago, but I think that’s because every student at this goddamn school has been brainwashed into thinking that being chosen as tribute is the greatest honor they could receive in their miserable life.”
Waverly’s not sure where her sister is going with this, but she clings to her every word none-the-less, looking for a shred of hope to latch onto.
“It's because they actually want to enter the Games, and to become a victor, that makes them such good tributes. Unlike the other districts, our tributes want to be there and they’ve trained almost their whole lives for this moment- it's a winning formula.”
“But,” Waverly’s brow is creased and her voice soft, “So have you. You’re the best fighter in your class. God how could I be so dense, of course they’d pick you.”
Waverly had always assumed Wynonna’s defiance would be her saving grace, that the administration wouldn’t consider her for tribute because of her inability to follow academy rules and lack of effort in almost every class. Now she sees how incredibly naïve that was. While Waverly was purposefully tripping over her sword or letting a girl half her weight pin her to the ground, Wynonna was hitting every target in practice and sending even the toughest of boys running in the halls just by glaring at them.
Her sister is a natural fighter, whether it’s in her blood or born out of the hard circumstances of their childhood, there’s no denying that Wynonna Earp is a force to be reckoned with. She’s Career material, through and through, and the realization of this makes Waverly’s stomach churn.
“Yeah but I don’t want to be a victor, that’s the key,” Wynonna steps closer in the dim light and Waverly can see the fire in her eyes. “The Capitol wants entertaining tributes, but the academy, they want victors. As long as they keep cranking out victors, their doors stay open and their wallets stay full. And Capitol money continues to flow into the district. So it’s in every District 2 official’s best interest to have a tribute who actually wants to be in the Games, who wants to win. And that’s not me.”
The dots are connecting in Waverly’s head but the doubt still lingers. She wraps her arms around her waist and speaks quietly, “Then why did they pick you?”
“I don’t know… Maybe they thought I’d see it as an opportunity, as the best chance I have at getting a better life. I’d make more money as a victor than we could ever dream of having…” Wynonna’s voice trails off and her eyes gloss over.
Waverly whacks her lightly on the arm. “Stop that, it’s not worth it. Not even a little bit. I don’t need loads of money, I just need my big sister,” Her voice breaks at the last word and the tears start to flow again.
She feels herself being tugged into an embrace and quickly melts into the familiar warmth of being wrapped in her sister’s arms, the only family she’s ever really had.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Wynonna whispers, running a comforting hand through light brown waves. “I meant what I said earlier, I’m not going anywhere. I told the dean I didn’t want to be their tribute and he told me to think about it and meet with him again in two days. I’m going to say the exact same thing, and if I can’t convince him to pick a better tribute- one who actually gives a shit about his stupid Games -then we’re going to run away.”
Waverly jerks out of the hug and gives Wynonna a startled look. “Run away? To where?”
“Anywhere but here,” Wynonna states confidently. “But more specifically, Northeast. I’ve heard rumors of a rebel force forming beyond the districts, near the ruins of District 13. We’ll go there.”
Waverly’s head is spinning from all of this new information and she’s still recovering from the shock of Wynonna’s previous announcement. “That would take ages to reach, and we could get there and find nothing but rubble. We’d be alone and starving.”
“Maybe, but we’d be together. And I wouldn’t be dead.”
Wynonna’s words linger in the silence and the reality of the situation sinks in. Wynonna’s been given a death sentence. Any option is better than the Games.
“Plus,” Wynonna adds, her eyes shifting hesitantly from side to side as if she’s questioning whether she should share this last bit of information with Waverly. “I think that’s where Mama went.”
Waverly sucks in a sharp breath. “W-what?”
She’s spent her whole life trying to figure out why their mother would leave them with their abusive father and never come back. Her memories of the woman are fuzzy, but they’re wrapped in warm light and she knows Mama was a good mother when she was around, the kind of mother that wouldn’t just up and leave her young daughters with a cruel man who loved his drink more than his own children. But she did, and coming to terms with that painful reality over the years has taken a toll on Waverly and left her heart damaged nearly beyond repair.
“I don’t know for sure,” Wynonna starts cautiously, “But I’ve been asking around for the past year and I finally found a woman who knew her even before she met Daddy, and apparently, Mama had always been anti-capitol and liked to talk about running away to join some mysterious resistance beyond the districts. She thinks Daddy’s beatings are what pushed her over the edge and got her to actually do what she’d wanted to her whole life- run away and become a rebel.”
“If that’s true, then why’d she have to leave us?” The hurt in Waverly’s voice is audible and makes Wynonna wince like she’s already regretting her decision to tell Waverly about their mother and dig up old wounds that never quite healed.
“I wish I knew,” The older Earp sighs. “Maybe she was just a selfish woman who chose to save herself when things got hard. I don’t want to get your hopes up that she’s still out there or that she’d even want to see us. But we might need to leave and now I have a plan for where we could go, so I need you to pack a bag when you get home and stash it somewhere safe in case we need to make a run for it, okay?”
“Okay,” Waverly breathes, her mind still reeling from all the information that’s just been dumped on her but trying to keep herself together for her sister’s sake.
Wynonna glances at the cracked glass of their father’s old wristwatch that she re-claimed after his death and grimaces. “I’ve already made you miss half of combat training so you better go before you get an absence for the day.”
Given that Waverly just learned her sister might be shipped off to the Capitol in six days’ time and that her mother may be alive and part of some rebel cause, receiving an absence in combat training is the least of her worries, but she agrees anyway.
Wynonna presses a kiss to her forehead before warning Waverly not to tell a soul about what they’ve just discussed. Waverly promises to stay quiet, though she hadn't planned on telling anyone to begin with. She may have a plethora of friends at the academy given her cheery exterior and pretty face, but those friendships all floated along the surface and consisted of trivial conversations about who-was-doing-who at the academy and nothing more. The only person she lets see under the façade is Wynonna.
The sisters part ways and Waverly receives a scolding for her tardiness but she brushes it off and focuses on the drills they’re running that day. She’s so distracted from her meeting with Wynonna that she forgets to do poorly and ends up completing the obstacle course in record time, earning her a stunned look from the instructor and a few raised eyebrows from her classmates. I’ll be long gone by the end of the week, Waverly thinks, unbothered by the new attention, let them stare while they still can.
〜
Her shift at Shorty’s, District 2’s most popular and only bar, drags on, her head a jumble of thoughts about the Games, her sister, and running away. She has little faith that the dean will let Wynonna off the hook so easily and prepares herself to leave District 2 for good. There’s not much she’ll miss about the militaristic district she grew up in. The buildings are industrial and functional and lack any sort of beauty or grace. The people are either devoted capitol drones or weary from years of living in a place that seems to suck the life out of all its inhabitants.
Being one of the wealthiest districts in all of Panem, one might think life in District 2 would be pretty good. And it can be if you believe everything they teach you and aspire to a life of building weapons or keeping peace in the districts, which Waverly doesn't. But the people aren't starving and most everyone has a sturdy roof over their head, which can't be said about every district.
Despite her traumatic childhood, Waverly has never gone hungry. Their father may have been a drunk but before he fell victim to a bottle he had worked his way through the peacekeeping ranks and earned himself an officer position, providing them with a steady and plentiful flow of cash even after half of his paycheck was spent on booze.
After the incident that led to Ward Earp’s untimely death, the two remaining Earp’s received a hefty payout from the Capitol for their father’s so-called honorable service that kept the lights on and the tuition paid. Uncle Curtis became their new legal guardian but the man didn’t care to take in two stray children, especially after the passing of his wife, so they worked out a suitable arrangement where Curtis was their guardian on paper but the girls remained at the homestead. Eight-year-old Waverly was raised by ten-year-old Wynonna and no one in District 2 even batted an eye.
The Capitol money started to run low around the time both girls reached a working age so Curtis hired Waverly, the one he could tolerate the most, to bus tables at his late wife's pub and eventually pour the drinks once she could pass as legal. Wynonna took the less pleasant job of cleaning the butcher’s kitchen, but she never complained. With the additional income, the girls were able to keep their bellies full and use the remainder of the Capitol money to pay the bills until Wynonna graduated and could get a real job.
Now her sister’s graduation seems like a distant dream. Waverly contemplates their new and uncertain future as she wipes a glass clean with a soiled rag. The prospect of leaving District 2 would be exciting if they weren’t planning on running towards the great, empty unknown.
Waverly ticks her way through a mental list of everything she’s going to pack once she gets off work and any affairs she’ll need to get in order before their escape. She’ll say a discrete goodbye to Mrs. Humphrey, the seamstress whose establishment sits right beside Shorty’s and who is the closest thing to a mother-figure Waverly’s had since age four. She’ll have to enlist the help of one of the neighbor kids to feed the stray cats she always smuggles scraps for. The thought of her feline friends going hungry in her absence makes Waverly’s heart hurt, she won't allow it. Lastly, she’ll give away her heavy books and old vanity set, anything too cumbersome to carry on their journey, to the butcher’s daughter whom Waverly always had a soft spot for as she reminded her of her younger self- still full of hope and optimism about this cruel world they live in.
The next two days pass surprisingly quickly as Waverly busies herself making preparations for their departure and awaiting the moment Wynonna pulls her into another dark corner and tells her to grab her bag because they’re making a break for it.
But the moment doesn’t come. Instead, Wynonna flops down on Waverly’s bed after their shifts on Wednesday evening and informs her that they won't be leaving District 2 after all.
The book Waverly was reading tumbles to the ground as she sits up and stares down at her sister. “What?”
“I said,” Wynonna speaks slowly, “We’re not leaving. I talked with the dean today and told him if he sends me to the games, I'll run straight into the bloodbath and let whatever malnourished kid that finds me first slit my throat before the action even begins.”
Waverly’s face twists in horror at her sister’s graphic and flippant description of her own death.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Wynonna scolds. “It worked. The male tribute this year is going to be Champ Hardy and while he’s strong, everyone knows he’s got the mental capacity of a twelve-year-old. He’s there for show, the Capitol will adore him and he’ll make good television until he eats a poison berry or something and drops dead. They need a victor and I made it clear that it wasn’t going to me, so he said they’d find a replacement.”
Waverly’s jaw drops and she feels hope bubble up in her chest. “He actually said that? And he wasn’t mad or anything?”
Wynonna lets out a strained laugh. “Oh he was mad alright, but I think he realized I wasn’t going to be the star pony they wanted and concluded they’d be better off betting on a different horse.”
“Who do you think they’ll pick?” Waverly asks quietly, mentally running through the other girls in Wynonna’s class.
Wynonna shrugs. “Probably Briar Nightwood, that chick’s been talking about her strategy for the Games since we were in grade school. She’ll be overjoyed to take my spot.”
Waverly chews her bottom lip, still feeling uneasy about the whole situation. “So he didn’t expel you for turning the position down?”
“Nope,” Wynonna lifts herself into a sitting position and ruffles Waverly’s hair. “Now stop worrying and come celebrate with me. I’m not going to the Games and we’re not going to have to live off of tree bark and squirrels, this is good news.”
A reluctant sigh slips out of Waverly’s lips. “I suppose it is.”
“Actually, it’s great news,” A wide grin spreads across Wynonna’s face, “And the only way to celebrate great news is with whiskey and cupcakes.”
Waverly shakes her head but now she’s smiling too. Wynonna knows cupcakes are her absolute favorite and a treat they rarely splurge on. The whiskey’s more for Wynonna as Waverly’s never had much of a taste for alcohol after watching her father drink himself into a stupor at the age of six.
The girls slip on their shoes and make their way to the bakery that smells like sugar and is filled with more colors than any other place in District 2. They purchase a dozen cupcakes and each eat two on their walk home, Waverly getting frosting on her nose like she always does and causing Wynonna to laugh in a way she so rarely does.
Waverly gives in and drinks some of the whiskey as they feast on their sugary dinner and she feels the tension she’s been carrying around since Monday leave her bones. She starts to believe that maybe everything will be okay after all. District 2 may be a soul-sucking place, but as long as she has her sister, Waverly thinks there’s a chance she could be happy here. There’s no one she loves more than the hot-mess of human that’s sat across from her snorting at something silly Waverly’s just said and wiping whiskey from her chin.
〜
Over the course of the week, Waverly slowly starts to give in to the idea that perhaps her sister really is safe and the danger has passed. It’s not until they’re stepping foot into the reaping and forced to separate their hands as they’re herded into their age-designated spots that the panic returns.
The hot sun beats down on the crowd and Waverly feels sweat prickle the back of her neck. She’s quite aware of the fact that the white sundress she wears is two sizes too small as the tight fabric presses against her slick skin and the ruffled sleeves itch in the heat. The Earps may not go hungry, but they don’t have the extra money to go clothes shopping every season like the other girls in Waverly’s class.
Surrounded by peacekeepers and squinting up at the stage that currently holds the mayor, the dean of the academy, a Capitol escort, and an array of past victors, the impending Games become all too real. The dean, a middle-aged man with greying black hair and a small, evenly trimmed beard, wears a twisted smirk that Waverly feels is pointed right at her. She shifts uncomfortably in her spot and glances around at the teenagers next to her to see if they’re aware of the dean’s pointed gaze.
They all wear the typical bored face of a District 2 kid on reaping day. No one knows who the tributes will be, but they can all feel safe that it won't be them. Since District 2 runs on a volunteer system, the name that gets pulled out of the reaping bowl is inconsequential as a pre-selected academy student will step forward and volunteer. The reaping is merely a formality to make it appear as though District 2 is just like any other district.
There’s a good chance it’s all in her head, but Waverly swears the dean is looking straight at her. She swallows down a lump in her throat as her brain conjures up images of her sister being hauled up on stage at gunpoint and being forced to volunteer. But that would be messy, she thinks, and too difficult to explain when the reaping airs on television.
She shakes out her hands in an attempt to rid her body of the nervous energy that’s building up inside her and tries her best to focus on the words coming out of the mayor’s mouth.
After a long and insufferable speech about the history of the Hunger Games, the District 2 escort- a plump man with bright pink hair and a face that Wynonna always said resembled a rodent’s -steps forward and dips a hand into the bowl of boy’s names. He’s only halfway through the boy’s last name when Champ Hardy is already confidently stepping out into the aisle and saying the words, “I volunteer as tribute.”
A hushed murmur runs through the crowd as people share their thoughts on the first tribute for this year’s games. One of the girls beside Waverly twirls a finger through her hair and sighs loudly.
“He’s so dreamy, I actually won’t mind watching the Games this year.”
Another girl snickers and adds, “I bet he’ll have to take off his shirt at some point.”
Waverly feels repulsed at the way the girls are discussing the yearly massacre like Capitol citizens would, like it’s a fun television show. She may not be Champ Hardy’s biggest fan, but she feels sick hearing the girls next to her objectify him as he walks towards his inevitable death.
By the way Champ saunters up the steps of the stage and flashes a winning smile at the crowd once he reaches the top, it’s clear he believes he’ll return home a victor, but Waverly knows otherwise. Champ Hardy has a handsome face and nice physique, but he lacks wit and forethought and is far too arrogant for his own good. The Games are going to eat him alive, and Waverly finds herself feeling sorry for the boy.
Waverly was momentarily distracted by Champ’s entrance but her heart rate spikes again as soon as the escort’s voice booms into the microphone. “And now, on to the ladies.”
As he fumbles with the papers in the bowl, Waverly is struck by a sudden, irrational fear that every paper has her sister’s name written on it, forcing her into the games the old-fashioned way. Waverly squeezes her eyes shut and hears herself chanting quietly, “Not Wynonna, not Wynonna, not Wynonna…”
Her chanting is interrupted by the escort’s voice ringing out across the square. Perhaps her prayers worked, because the name that comes out of those painted pink capitol lips is not Wynonna’s.
It’s Waverly’s.
Waverly’s eyes shoot open and she’s questioning whether she heard that right when the escort leans forward and speaks into the microphone again, “I uh, I said, the female tribute is Waverly Earp…”
The square is filled with silence as everyone waits for the volunteer to step forward and take her place, keeping their mouths shut just as they were taught to unless they’ve been selected as tribute, which to Waverly’s horror, she realizes none of them have.
The administration didn’t need to rig the bowl with Wynonna’s name to force her to into the games, they just needed her baby sister to be reaped to ensure her willing participation. At this realization, Waverly surges forward before her brain can fully process what her feet are doing, rushing to take her spot on the stage before her sister can volunteer instead.
As soon as she emerges into the walkway, Waverly hears Wynonna’s voice ring out from the crowd to her right, shouting, “I volun-”
Her sister’s words are suddenly silenced and Waverly’s heart drops into her stomach. She moves to push her way through the mass of teenagers to her right when a peacekeeper grabs onto her arm and roughly pulls her back into the clearing.
“Wynonna!” She screams, struggling against the peacekeeper’s iron-like grip.
Now that the silence has been broken the crowd begins to whisper but the voices fade into a dull roar as a ringing fills Waverly’s ears and she can only focus on one thing- her sister’s limp body being hauled out of the crowd by three peacekeepers, a white gloved hand clamped firmly over her mouth muffling her screams.
Their eyes meet as Wynonna is dragged past Waverly and the older girl makes an attempt at escape by elbowing the peacekeeper behind her in the gut, but it’s futile given his armor and just earns Wynonna a strong kick to the side from one of his buddies. A guttural scream rips from Waverly’s lungs as she watches her sister’s face contort in pain.
“You had your chance Earp," The peacekeeper who delivered the kick sneers, just loud enough that Waverly can hear it as the peacekeepers yank Wynonna’s crumpled form off the ground. "You said you didn’t want to volunteer. We're just respecting your wishes." He laughs gruffly before continuing to forcibly remove Wynonna from the reaping.
Waverly’s entire body feels numb and she’s lost the ability to speak. Her brain can’t seem to process anything except for the petrifying image of her sister being dragged before her, beaten and bloody, that keeps playing on repeat in her head.
She’s ripped out of her thoughts by the peacekeeper behind her shoving her forward and ordering her to get up on stage. Once again, her legs move of their own accord as they walk between rows of wide-eyed teenagers all gaping at the violent display that just occurred at their typically uneventful reaping.
“Isn't she only sixteen?" She hears someone whisper to her left. Followed by, “Waverly Earp couldn’t hurt a fly if she wanted to, why would they pick her?”
But Waverly knows why. She knows as soon as she reaches the top of the stage and looks out across the crowd to see Wynonna being propped up by peacekeepers at the very back, forced to bear witness to her little sister’s funeral. Wynonna had been wrong. The Games aren’t just about victors, that couldn’t be more evident. With pretty-boy Champ Hardy and sweet Waverly Earp as tributes, the District 2 Victor’s Village won't be expecting any new inhabitants this year. No, this reaping wasn’t about selecting a victor, it was about sending a message.
Because the whispers will continue long after Waverly and Champ board their train to the Capitol and Wynonna is strung up in the gallows for treason, or at least that's what Waverly fears is her sister's fate given the way she was hauled off like a rebel conspirator. Eventually, the citizens of District 2 will piece together the unfortunate story of the girl who was asked to volunteer and refused, making her sister pay the price for her act of defiance.
The unspoken message is painfully clear.
Even in a Career District, the Games aren’t voluntary. They never were.