Summary: AU. When Anakin Skywalker's name is called for the 74th Hunger Games, Padmé Amidala will volunteer in the hopes of keeping him alive—winning at all costs. To their misfortune, the couple from District 12 quickly becomes the audience's favorites. Who will be the last one standing?
**Disclaimer** I DON'T own Star Wars. I DON'T own The Hunger Games—movies, books, nothing!
Author's notes: This is a Star Wars—Hunger Games crossover. Basically Anakin and Padmé in the Games at the same time as Katniss and Peeta.
I've never done a crossover before, this is pretty much set to disaster but I couldn't shake this idea away, so I thought I'd write it and share it since there's no harm.
I'd really appreciate reviews and words of advice! Enjoy!
In one of the tallest buildings of the Capitol, a young girl, sixteen years of age, rich, beautiful, kind and gentle, sits comfortably as her breakfast is served.
I am standing a few steps from her, she has not yet seen me, and I am not sure exactly what I am waiting for. I guess I just like watching her. She looks peaceful in spite the day ahead.
"Oh, hi Anakin," she says when she finally notices me. She motions me to join her, I do so without questioning, and as I do, I can tell just how much the rest of the servants hate me. I don't care, as long as she loves me. And I know she does.
"How're you feeling today?" I ask Padmé as she takes a bite at her toasts.
She shakes her head. "Same as I do every time this season is upon us," she answers. "Sick to my stomach."
Though her words are thinly veiled with sarcasm just in case anyone is watching us, I know she really means them. That 'time of the season' as she calls it, refers to the Hunger Games. I don't like the Games any more than she does, but I don't dread them as much, since I know that no matter what, they'll never affect her. She's safe. She's from the Capitol and therefor she'll never have to be on that Arena.
I know she hates being part of the Capitol. Part of the strong power that forces the young to become cold-blooded killers. I've never enjoyed watching the Games, though if I'm honest, there has been the rare occasion in which I was entertained by them. It sounds horrible, I know, and it is, especially since I was once on the position everyone on the districts are. I was born on District 11, therefor I was destined to maybe one day become the sick entertainment of my beloved Padmé, yet I was found at the age of nine by one of the richest man in the Capitol.
Sheev Palpatine would've raised me as his son, I am sure, if he wasn't so atone to the Capitol, still being a servant and bodyguard proved to be a lot better than be left to starve in my District, when I met Padmé.
I loved her the minute I laid my eyes on her. I'd be a fool if I said she loved me so soon, too. But once we fell in love, I knew I had a reason to live beyond a natural instinct for survival.
I've been her bodyguard for two years, I'm eighteen, we've been in a secret relationship for half the time we've known each other, and in this time, I've come to know how much the Hunger Games pain her, even though she'll never have to participate in them and neither will I.
I hold her hand as we watch the reaping in District 1, I kiss away the tears that spring from her eyes as we watch; I almost break her bones when we hear the names from District 11.
It can't be… but it is. They said my name.
I deserve to be punished. That's the first thing I think when I wake up.
I never understood the fascination the Games held in my nation. Since I was very young, I was frightened by that savage spectacle in which only one person, sometimes a kid, can be left alive. As I grew a little older, they saddened me. Lately, they did nothing but sick me.
"We deserve to be punished." I thought when my parents wished me a "Happy Hunger Games Day."
Happy? I can barely stand the fact that I am forced to watch them every year, unable of doing anything to stop them.
As I sit with Anakin's hands wrapped around my own, I can't help thinking about how much I don't deserve such warmth and comfort. Every spoonful tastes bitter, every kiss makes me feel guilty.
I almost can't bear to watch anymore… I wish the screen would go black so I could go on pretending another child murdering "event" is not happening. But it is. I see the young faces that will soon lose all innocence; I see families being ripped apart. I see crying friends. Desperate people. I should really stop watching…
And then I hear—I will be punished, after all.
Anakin tries to tell me something, I think he's apologizing for leaving my hand somewhat bruised, but I can hardly hear him, my own sudden cries have invaded the room, and my tears are so thick and blinding that everything around me has become a huge blur.
There's a deep, burning pain where my heart should be, I cannot seem to remember how to perform actions as easy as taking air in, breathing… I close my eyes, trying to find some sanity and clearance, and the next time I open them I am lying on my wide bed, nurses and doctors gathered around me. Preoccupied family members watching me. And Anakin is not with me.