AN: Sorry for the lack of update over the past few weeks; real life had to take priority! I'm struggling with writing right now, so this will probably go on hiatus or be updated very irregularly from now on. I'm really sorry, but I need to try and get back into it, and real life does have to take priority.

Note that Panem has become Eurasia and the Capitol has become Olympus. All other changes should be clear.

The second that Annabeth's name was pulled out of District 4's Reaping Bowl, and the blonde girl stepped up, standing straight and proud and seemingly unafraid (but he knew she was terrified; he could see it in her, even if no one else could), he knew what he had to do.

Percy Jackson stepped forward.

'I volunteer as Tribute!'

Afterwards, when they had a moment to themselves (one last moment) she flipped him over and pinned him to the ground. Then she slapped him. Hard. Twice. With tears glistening in her eyes.

He just pulled her closer.

'We're staying together. You're not getting away from me.'

And she nodded, her eyes indescribably stormy and soft and full of love all at once.

'As long as we're together.'

They were going to die.

They knew that, accepted that.

There could be only one Victor.

And they weren't going to let anything separate them.

But the people of Eurasia, and even the Olympians, the privileged who never need to fear the Games, fall in love with the lovers of District 4.

The brave, clever, wily grey-eyed girl.

The boy with green eyes like the ocean of his home District who loved her so much he volunteered to die with her.

The people wanted them both to win.

But there could only be one Victor.

Discord, disquiet, rebellion, began to brew across the country.

And Gaea, the ruler of Eurasia, turned to her son Kronos.

'Announce the change.'

Now there could be two.

Two Victors, provided they were from the same District.

And there was a glimmer of hope.

Hope for the lovers of District 4.

Hope in the eyes of the people of Eurasia.

Hope for Percy and Annabeth.

And hope that the stirrings of rebellion would quiet.

And it seemed to quiet, at least for a while.

But there were events in motion that only a few were privy to.

The time had come.

The time had come for the rise of Camp Jupiter from the ashes of what was once District 13.

The time had come for the rebellion.

For the end of the Games.

For the downfall of Gaea.

For freedom.

(At least, that's what Zeus, known as Jupiter, said, as he rallied his troops.)

In the Arena, the lovers of Four had no notion of the events that were about to come to pass.

Until a hovercraft appeared before them, and ghostly-pale hands plucked them from the ground.

Hades and his son Nico (who could not stop watching Percy and Annabeth with an indiscernible expression, perhaps disgust or anger) explained everything on their way to Camp Jupiter.

Their status as traitors to Olympus. (Newly declared, but they had been for years.)

The existence of Camp Jupiter, and the rebellion.

The role they needed the lovers of District Four to play.

And Percy simply reached for Annabeth's hand, and nodded.

Because how could they refuse?

None of Eurasia's children should have to die any longer.

And as long as they were together…

What did it matter where they were or what they were doing?

They weren't Victors, not really, but it turned out many were on the side of Camp Jupiter.

And (as Annabeth had long thought) the life of a Victor was nothing like what Olympus's propos purported it to be.

Little Hazel Levesque, only thirteen, the Victor of last year's games, saw things. Things that were made of what she called the Mist. Chiron, the kindly man who served as Percy and Annabeth's guide, simply shook his head and humoured her.

Better than seeing what she really saw, he said.

(And they all closed their eyes for a moment, wincing as they remembered. A small, fragile-looking, dark-skinned girl, only twelve years old, from District 12. Hiding in a burrow, because under the earth was where she felt safe, and the earth seemed to know that, and part for her like magic. The ferocious fire that raged through her forest Arena. The burning flesh and dying screams of the other Tributes. And the emergence of the little girl from the smoke, coughing and covered in soot, as the Victor.)

Leo Valdez, the boy from Three, the Boy on Fire, the one who'd built and engineered his way to victory.

(He still made and created and it's the only time he ever has any light in his eyes. He alternated between burning rage and building weapons with which to destroy Gaea, and flickering sadness and making nothing but toys and trinkets.)

The smirking, grinning, joking boy, the prankster that Eurasia fell in love with was practically gone.

Frank Zhang, the unwilling Career from Two, the brilliant consummate warrior and strategist wouldn't touch the sword and spear that made him Victor (killed) any more. He'd only use the bow he'd had in the Arena, the one his mother and father (former Victors themselves) gifted him, the one he used to hunt for food.

He didn't speak much either. And when he did, he stuttered and was awkward and almost clumsy.

There was none of the strong, purposeful warrior (and quietly noble- all his had been quick, clean, as-painless-as-possible kills) from his Games- and it was clear that'd never been real.

(The real Frank Zhang was the boy who sat with Hazel for hours each day, talking with her in hushed voices, hand over hers, gently drawing her back to reality.)

Piper McLean, the stunningly beautiful Victor from 8, was barely recognizable.

Gone were the makeup and the stylish clothing that characterized the girl who seduced and charmed her way to victory, winning over sponsors and Tributes alike.

She didn't wear dresses any more.

No-one could get makeup into the same room as her without her screaming and throwing it out.

She wouldn't flirt with or charm anyone anymore. The only romantic words she had for anyone were for Jason, and they were real.

Jason Grace was the perfect Victor. From District One and raised to win the Games all his life…a poster boy for Victors, appearing in every Olympus propo…until one day he wasn't.

He refused to appear in any more propos, even though Jupiter and Hera ordered him and threatened him (which concerned them all, but surely they were better than Gaea? They were on the right side, after all…), he held fast.

Never again would Jason be anyone's mouthpiece, anyone's perfect boy. (Except maybe Piper's.)

And then there was moody and brooding Nico di Angelo, and Reyna, a girl with no other name, born and raised in the Camp, born and raised a rebel.

They're all broken and ruined…but they became Percy and Annabeth's dearest friends anyway.

And things started to get better.

Hazel kissed Frank and he turned bright red for hours, a grin on his face.

Calypso, the District Four escort, was captured by the rebels, and started bringing a spark back to Leo's eyes.

Piper put feathers in her hair, and Jason called her beautiful, and it was all real.

The Districts began to stand against Olympus.

And Percy and Annabeth were still together.

And things got even better.

Olympus fell.

Gaea and Kronos fell.

And (because they knew that they only wanted power, really, knew that they might be trading one tyrant for another), the Seven (as they were called in the propos), Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Piper, Hazel, Frank, Leo, stood and joined hands and in front of all of Eurasia said precisely that of Zeus.

And so Eurasia was placed into the guardianship of Hestia and Chiron and, to the surprise of many, Reyna, and plans for the implementation of democracy, which was how Eurasia was ruled many, many years ago, were drawn up.

And the Seven started to believe that things could be good again.

And they were.