A warning before we begin: This fic had originally meant to be a humor!fic. Yeah, no. If you were looking for that, read The Miner's Son and stop there. It gets darker. (And, by darker, I mean: angst, angst, angst.) It is a believable post-Games development, but it may not be what some expect.
A/N: AU series of interconnected one-shots. Genderswap rewrite of The Hunger Games.
Names were chosen based on their meanings and/or phonetic similarities; Robin stands for archer (as in Robin Hood. 'Katniss' is another name for Sagittaria latifolia — arrowhead plant), Gayle is a female variation of Gale, and Halle contains the element hallr meaning 'rock' ('Peeta' is derived from the word petra — rock).
Feedback is always welcome.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games. Robin, Halle, and Gayle are only my opposite-sex interpretations of Katniss, Peeta, and Gale respectively.
Of Arrows and Burnt Bread
somewhere along the way my hopefulness turned to sadness
Julian Casablancas, "Out of the Blue"
The Miner's Son
The boy with the olive skin and grey eyes enters the bakery, and Halle Mellark's heart flutters inside her chest.
"'Morning," Robin Everdeen murmurs in a spiritless tone as he sets the burlap sack on the wooden counter. Halle pulls the string that loosens it and gingerly examines its contents. "Clean shot through the eye, as usual," she comments, eying the squirrels with an approving gaze.
"I can give you two for it," Halle offers, turning to the racks behind her. On all of them, sit warm loaves of bread that make Robin's mouth water. Halle stands on her tiptoes, and pulls three loaves.
Robin gives her a brief look of suspicion. "You said two," he hedges.
"I can take it back, if you don't want it," she says as she shoves them inside a paper bag.
"No, no, it's okay," he backtracks as she hands him the bag.
Halle empties the burlap sack, and hands it back to Robin. "Okay. Bye, Robin. See you at school."
"Wait!" Robin calls. He digs his hand into the pocket of his tawny pants, and retrieves a single golden coin, which he places on the counter. "I want one of these," he says, pointing at the cookies that are sitting on a platter beside Halle.
"Oh, that for your sister?"
"Yeah."
Halle grabs a cookie — without mentioning it costs more than Robin has to offer — and places it into another paper bag. "Here you go."
"Thanks. Um, see you later."
"Sure."
The bakery door shuts behind Robin, who hastily crosses the dirt road. Halle can breathe again.
It is silly, and her her older brothers — oh, the joy of being an only daughter — constantly mock her about it, but she can't help that she has a crush (as in, a Crush — with a capital C) on Robin Everdeen. (Finn, the alpha asshole, never hesitates to deprecate her for liking a boy from the Seam.)
It's a hopeless situation, though. No, Robin doesn't have a girlfriend or anything. Unless you count Gayle Hawthorne, of course, who is one of the factors that render Halle's situation hopeless. This happens for a multitude of reasons, of which the most important are a) Gayle is also from the Seam, b) Gayle has been Robin's hunting partner for years, and, most importantly, c) Gayle is gorgeous. Like, freakin' stunning. She has the same olive skin, dark hair, and grey eyes as most people from the Seam — it's her figure that makes every guy at school ogle at her, though. Long legs and lean arms and toned shoulders; she is everything petite, pale Halle, who still has baby fat on her cheeks, is not. Halle Mellark simply cannot compete with Gayle Hawthorne and she is well aware of that fact. Well, it's not as if Halle is utterly hideous or anything — blonde hair and blue eyes (the norm among the merchant families of District Twelve) can be considered pretty, and boys have been interested in her in the past.
Anyway, the Crush made its first appearance on the first day of school. Riley Hines, the beta asshole, called her stupid and pulled one of her braids. Robin, a proper knight in shining armor, saved the day by shoving the brat and offering to fix it. It ended up looking a tangled mess, but it didn't matter to Halle, because later that day Robin, in his red plaid shirt, would sing the Valley Song in front of the class, and the Crush would be signed and sealed.
Halle spent the following ten years sporadically trying to work up the nerve to talk to him about it — and she'd had plenty of chances - but mostly desperately trying to develop a crush, rather than a Crush — with a capital C, for someone else. And she failed epically.
To define 'epically', about a year ago, Halle decided to try her luck at dating. Most girls her age had started doing it, and she figured she had to start sooner or later and sooner is better than later, so... you get the point. Well, Dave Kirk - the guinea pig of sorts — turned out to be an alpha alpha asshole of the worst kind. He wasn't crude or anything, but he took her to her family's bakery. She had her first date on a bench beside the wheat bread stand.
Suffice it to say, she never attempted to cast caution to the wind when it came to relationships again.
Halle thinks that things would be so much easier if she lived in the Seam. She feels like an awful person because of that, because people from the Seam are the least fortunate bunch, the weakest link of the District Twelve chain. Men and women spend much of their adult life in the stifling, deadly coal mines; their children strive to keep up with school and aid their struggling families in whatever way they can — usually by signing up for tesserae. Still, deaths caused by starvation are not uncommon an occurrence. How many times have the Peacekeepers been called to pick up another poor soul from the Meadow? Of course, the official cause is always something else, but everyone knows.
If Halle is being honest with herself, though, she'd love to be the girl with the the lean figure and the dark, silky tresses and the grey eyes and the kick-ass hunting skills.
The bell that indicates the entrance of a new customer rings, and she jolts from the stool she's been sitting on. Upon taking a look at the newcomer, she curses under her breath.
I said I'd love to be the girl with the the lean figure and the dark, silky tresses and the grey eyes and the kick-ass hunting skills, not be in the same room with her.
"'Morning," she greets cheerfully, as Gayle Hawthorne walks — or rather stomps — inside the bakery. Her hunting boots leave mud stains on the wooden floor, and all Halle can think about is that she swept it less than an hour ago.
"Sure."
Halle lowers herself onto her stool. "How can I be of —"
"I'm going to be straightforward; what the fuck do you think you're proving?" Gayle snaps, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her grey eyes burn into Halle's sky-blue ones, who whimpers in defense.
"I'm not sure I'm following," she murmurs, a tint of uncertainty lacing her voice. In fact, she has absolutely no idea why Gayle Hawthorne would forge ahead inside the bakery like that, accusing her of stuff.
Gayle doesn't reply; instead, she drops her burlap sack on the floor and dumps a still warm loaf of bread on the counter. "Robin and I don't need your pity," she spits out.
Uh... okay.
Halle heaves a sigh.
"I wasn't being pitiful," she attempts to explain. "I simply think that two loaves for the squirrels would be an unfair trade. And, anyway, Robin caught the squirrels, I gave him the bread for them. I don't see how any of this is remotely of your concern." She pushes the loaf toward Gayle.
Gayle's eyes turn to slits.
The bell rings again.
"Gayle- Oh God, I told you it's fine. Hey, Halle, I'm sorry," a flustered Robin says apologetically.
Gayle casts another unstrung glance, then scrambles up the loaf. "Fine," she grunts finally. Robin hoists an arm around her shoulder, mouths - presumably - an apology to Halle, and the two of them walk out of the bakery.
Halle is mostly confused, but she is certain of one thing; Gayle Hawthorne is freakin' terrifying.
And now she has to clean again.
Next: Month of May
Side Note: Updates will be made whenever I have time (oops), because making promises I cannot keep is not my forte.