Ayla

Ayla Wynters sat in her room, holding a decorative seashell. The midday sunlight rays eked into the room and she had been contemplating on current events as well as those of the past. Ethan being shipped off to the Capitol and forced to participate in the Hunger Games. Ella's illness developing further, making it harder to treat her. Ethan's constant nightmares and him not being the young boy that she used to see. It had seemed a lot for her to take in.

She continued fiddling with the seashell as images of her only son flashed before her eyes.

"Mama!" called a smiling 3-year-old Ethan.

Ayla stopped tracing her finger across the shell as soon as old memories were coming, smiling at one of her earliest memories she had with Ethan.

"Look, mama! Look what I did!"

"Mama!"

"I love you, mama."

Ayla sighed and shook her head. Why was this happening to her now?

"Mama..." whined a sickly 4-year-old Ethan, coughing when he became ill with the dreaded fever that nearly took his life.

"Don't go, mama... Please..."

"Where's mama?"

Ayla felt her hand beginning to tighten its grip on the seashell, not caring if the edges were digging into her skin.

"My friends... they're all... gone. Every single one of them," said a rather despondent, emotionally broken 8-year-old Ethan after his friends parents had been involved in the riots 10 years ago and the Peacekeepers didn't hesitate to make an example to the rest of the Districts.

"Why? Why did they do this?"

"I hate them, mother! I hate the Peacekeepers! I hate the Capitol! I HATE THEM ALL!"

Blood started to seep from a cut caused by the jagged edges of the seashell but she couldn't feel a thing, too caught up in memories from the past.

Parts of District Seven were on fire. Ayla could smell and see the smoke billowing in the air. The citizens were rebelling again after a controversial end to the most recent Hunger Games after the District Seven tribute was killed off by the Gamemakers leading to a pompous 14 year old from District 4 to win the Games.

Ayla and Cillian turned the corner into the central courtyard of District 7 only to find her 11 year old son slumped on his knees barely conscious, held up only by the ropes that tied his wrists to the wooden post. Glass shards stuck out of his knuckles while a discarded Peacekeepers helmet that had part of its visor smashed laid next to him. Ethan's back a bruised and bloodied slab of meat and the jacket that Cillian gave him for his 11th birthday, the one that was a few sizes too big for the boy but what he still wore anyway flung to the side, next to another body laid out on the ground.

Alesia. Her pregnant daughter.

Alya seemed to be rather motionless as more and more flashbacks including her son presented themselves within her mind.

She had watched for months as Ethan didn't allow himself grieve his sister's death. He did everything he could to avoid slowing down and letting his mind process what had happened. He had been unconcious from blood loss while Alesia was forced to have the baby early so he had missed the birth of his niece Ella and the final moments of his sister. Alesia had been the one to drag him out of the hole he had found himself in after his friends had been killed. Now, no one could get through to him. The only time he slept was when he passed out from exhaustion.

He practiced with knives, throwing and regular knives. And when he had perfected that, he moved onto axes and didn't stop until he was perfect with the weapon. She had followed him once into the forest and close to the river that ran through District Seven, saw her son in front of a makeshift target, throwing knives in hand and hitting bullseye with every throw. Then she saw him cleave a makeshift dummy in two with his axe.

It was only when Ayla turned around that she saw why Ethan had set up his little training centre in that particular spot. It was in the eyeline of Alesia's grave. Ethan had made sure that his sister would always be watching him.

Ayla wiped the tears that were threatening to fall with her free hand, before putting the seashell down onto the bed.

She knew why the memories had come back to her now. Ethan was set to go back to the place he hated most in the world, the place that had taken so much from her son. He would be forced to play up for the cameras that vicious side of him again, because that was what the Districts knew him for. They knew him for being the Reaper.

They didn't see the boy who held his niece as she sobbed at her mother's grave.

They didn't see the boy who followed his sister around everywhere when he was a child.

They didn't see the boy who clung to his sister after the Peacekeepers had killed his friends.

They didn't see the boy who stayed up for the first week of his niece's life watching to make sure that she would be safe.

And they never would. They would only see what the Capitol wanted them to see.

---

Coriolanus

The victory tour was here. The time where the latest victor went to every district and spewed the propaganda of the Capitol to the citizens. And this time, the Games had certainly gave an interesting victor.

Ethan Wynters, the Reaper. The outspoken and almost psychotic boy from District Seven. A boy that would undoubtedly be a challenge to control if allowed to continue in the same way he was.

That was why Snow was currently drawing up plans on how to control the newest victor with the head gamemaker Seneca Crane.

"How popular is he?"

"In the Capitol or in the Districts, President Snow?" Seneca Crane's voice rang through the meeting room.

Snow glared at Seneca which made the head gamemaker wince and cow away.

"He's the most popular victor since Johanna Mason and the most popular male tribute since Finnick Odair."

Snow kept a stoic face while he took in the new information but he was smirking in his mind. The new victor would have the citizens clamouring to just have the chance of spending the night with him, which meant that they would part with large amounts of money.

"There's a few problems though, President Snow." Seneca's voice came out timid, as if he was scared of the reaction that his next words might bring.

"And they are?" Snow questioned, although he already knew the answer. He was just waiting for someone to confirm the answer he knew since seeing the boy and the file that the Peacekeepers of District Seven had made.

"Well, he seems to be... cut from the same cloth as Ms Mason. Offering him up to the Capitol citizens would almost certainly lead to a no from the boy. And well..." He stopped when he looked at the President's face, that eerie calmness that exuded from him sent fear through the gamemaker. "I'm sorry President Snow, you would already know this. I worked through the night to start preparations for next years games, I would profit from some sleep."

"Yes, I think you would, Seneca. And, because you're the head gamemaker, I might even let you wake from that sleep! Go! I'm sure your wife must miss you."

Seneca almost ran out of the room as soon as Snow had finished speaking, grateful to be out of the President's line of fire.

Coriolanus sighed imperceptibly, as he pulled out three more files from a nearby drawer. If Ethan Wynters doesn't take the offer that he would be presented with, then there were other ways of keeping the Victor in line.

He looked over to the files then to the screen that showed past footage from the forest of District Seven and two of its victors. If the boy was lucky, Ms Mason will have told him what would happen to those who defied the President's wishes.

---------------------------------------------------------
I've moved a few things around timeline wise, such as when a certain victor won his games (No prizes for guessing who the pompous District Four tribute is). The next two chapters will be the Victory Tour then after that things will change forever.

-Danny