Hestia Olympia, 25

Victor of the 146Th Annual Hunger Games,

Hestia is pissed, to say the least.

Sixth place hurts. Fifth place hurts. Third place fucking burns.

Here Hestia had sat a little less than a week ago, pulling for her girl, Ilyanna. It had been the Career girls, from 1, 2 and 4 who were in the Final Three. Ilyanna was up against a twelve-year-old rebel idiot and Stella Winters, who was only noticed because of her relation to the last Quell. No one would have cared if Ariella hadn't already perished in the Games. She would have been just as forgettable as Marina was the year before. At least that turned out to be useful knowledge to Hestia; the next time she's helping to choose volunteer, she'll keep that in mind.

Neapolitan and Peridot had been seated beside her, with as little hope in their hearts as they should have had. Divinity Faust is insane—there is no bias when Hestia says that—and yet, now Vin stands on the other side of the room, her head held high and her eyes aloof. She talks with some Capitol man who is over a foot taller than—Vin can't be more than five foot one in heels, yet somehow she won the Hunger Games. It's completely unfathomable to Hestia. Vin is a rebel, and the Games are supposed to be rigged against rebels. Just look at what happened the Hydra Bekkar!

Hestia stares back at the girl, her hands clenching around the drink in her hands. Everything about Vin's presence in her precious Capitol makes her blood boil. Vin ruined everything, and she's not even a proper Victor. Hestia was always under the impression that the Gamemakers killed those who were too crazy, too un-suited for the life of a Victor. Yet Vin stands as a testament that not even the Gamemakers can get in the way of someone like her.

It has been far too long since District 2 earned a new Victor. Seven years since Hestia won. Seven, long, Victor-less years. And to make everything even better, both 1 and 4 have gained a new Victor since the year Hestia won. Maybe Arthur and Vin didn't do it on purpose, but it sure feels like they won just to spite Hestia.

Shaking her head, Hestia knocks back her drink, hissing in anger at the taste that burns its way down her throat. It's not a pleasant one. Hestia kicks herself as she searches for an Avox to give her glass to. She should know not to drink whatever is handed to her. There was a Victor from 2 who was poisoned by an angry Capitolite a few decades ago, wasn't there? Hestia likes to think she is important enough for someone to poison to death. But obviously, if Hestia was poisoned to death, she would no longer be around to push her tributes home. And Hestia can't bare to die as the only Victor from 2 to never mentor someone else out of that arena.

At last, Hestia spots a young, blond Avox standing at a table which Macy Barker is seated at. She groans internally at the prospect of having to speak to an asshole like Macy Barker, but seeing as there are no other Avoxes nearby, Hestia is stuck. She shakes her head and stalks across the room toward them, resigned to her unfortunate fate.

"Here," she says, shoving her empty glass into the blonds Avox's hands.

"What do you expect him to do with that?" Macy snaps.

"Get rid of it," Hestia answers curtly. "Tell whoever supplied drinks for this hellhole that they picked terrible options?"

Macy glares at her. "Have you ever heard a bartender? There's one right over there who would gladly explain his job to you."

"You are an absolute ass," Hestia replies. Does she sound immature? Yeah. Does it look like she's care? No.

"Come on, Shallow," Macy says, grabbing the Avox's hand and walking away. "Let's go somewhere that doesn't involve contact with people the likes of Hestia. I don't feel like being verbally abused today."

"Run away," Hestia mutters. "Because you can't think of a good comeback. Great. Real mature."

"Can you just shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn life? I'm fourteen-years-old; how much maturity can you expect from me?" Macy snaps, turning back around to face her and letting go of the Avox's hand.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Hestia snarks, crossing her arms across her chest. She looks like a child and Hestia knows it, but again, she doesn't care. She's never cared a day in her life, and she's not about to start for someone like Macy Barker.

"My mother is dead." Macy turns back around, muttering under her breath, and disappears through the crowd with her Avox friend. Hestia notices her empty glass left on Macy's vacated table and clenches her teeth in anger. She snatches up the glass and stalks after them, muttering swear words as she goes. She tells a couple of little Capitol kids to fuck off when they come to ask her for her autograph. Normally, Hestia would love to autograph something for them, but right now? Right now, Hestia is far too busy being pissed to do anything kind for people. Besides, those kids didn't look like they had anything to pay her with, anyway.

Hestia follows Macy and the blond Avox out of the ballroom and into the hallway. Macy's singsong voice drifts back to her through the hallways, echoing off the ceiling and walls. The Avox is, obviously, silent. Hestia firmly believes that every Avox deserves what they got, no matter what they did. And that includes this kid, whatever he did.

"And seeing as I'm retiring this year…"

The words catch Hestia's attention, the empty glass in her hand forgotten and Macy and her Avox obsolete in Hestia's mind. She steps towards the double doors—the doors to President Purdue's office, she might add—as someone answers.

"What? Silas, you can't just—leave!"

"With all due respect, Madame President, my wife is pregnant," Silas says. Oh, Hestia thinks, almost turning and walking back to the party. Silas Euphemia. That jackass who seems to rig the Games in the others' favors. She has no interest in whatever Silas has to tell Graciela Purdue, but his next words piques her attention again. "I have come to discuss the arena for this year's Games. I plan to make it something new, seeing as this will be my last year as the Head Gamemaker."

"Who will replace you?" Purdue asks, completely disregarding the statement about the arena, much to Hestia's dismay. "Aristotle, perhaps? Or maybe Everess?"

"I haven't decided yet," Silas says, sounding slightly impatient. You and me both, Hestia thinks, ignoring the fact that she just agreed with Silas Euphemia. Two more different people have never graced Panem. "But, Graciela…I don't suppose you've ever heard of Disneyland, have you?"

"Disneyland?" Purdue repeats. "No, I'm afraid not."

"It was a popular theme park from long before the Dark Days and well…recently, a team recovered the plans for it. We plan to rebuild it, in all its glory, to use as this year's arena," Silas says proudly. Hestia imagines the man puffing out his chest like a penguin. Silas was already slightly portly; he would make a lovely penguin. He'd be much better at that than he'd be at being Head Gamemaker. You don't have to do anything to be a penguin. "The rides will function. It will be exactly like it was in its heyday."

"That sounds wonderful, Silas," Purdue agrees, probably nodding and caressing one of her stupid cats. They were always wandering around the Presidential Mansion. "Do you need a go ahead from me?"

"Yes," Silas answers. "That's why I came here, so…?"

"It's fine with me," Purdue says. "I look forward to seeing the finished product."

"Thank you, Madame President," Silas replies. "Have a good day."

"A good day to you as well, Silas."

The doors to Purdue's office start to open, and Hestia throws herself around the corner, praying Silas will walk the other way. When he starts toward the turn, Hestia carefully changes her position to look as if she is simply leaning against the wall. Silas nods a greeting to her, which she doesn't return. It's common knowledge that Hestia hates him. It would be more conspicuous if Hestia spoke to him like a regular human being.

As soon as Silas is gone, Hestia heads back to the party and finds Will. Thank Panem she managed to convince Varen to stay home this year—she would have committed murder if Will hadn't agreed to come in his place.

She finds him at the bar, talking to a woman who appears to be a few years younger than him. Hestia grabs Will's sleeve and tugs him to his feet, making him spill his drink all over his shirt. "Hestia!" Will exclaims. "What—?"

"I have news," Hestia says, her voice spiking excitedly as she speaks. "I know what next year's arena is."

"Oh, do you now," Will says, shaking his head and setting his now-empty glass on the table. It's clearly not a question; Hestia knows he doesn't believe her, but at the current moment, she's too excited about this development to care. "Enlighten me."

"It's Disneyland," Hestia declares.

"…what?" Will asks, looking at her as if she just contracted a very deadly disease. "It's what now?"

"Disneyland," Hestia repeats, her voice faltering. "Oh." She drops her arms to her sides and purses her lips. What is Disneyland, again? A theme park! What's a theme park, again? Hestia mulls over the situation for a moment, staring at Will's soggy shirt

"Yeah. So you don't what the arena is, then?" Will asks.

"No, I guess not," Hestia says. "Not unless you know what a 'theme park'."

"Never heard of it," Will answers. "Thanks for making me spill my drink, by the way. Now I have to buy a new shirt."

"Do I look like I give a fuck right now?" Hestia growls. "I thought I had something! I thought we had Victory in the bag! Ugh." She shakes her head, slamming her glass down on the bar top. "I'm going back to the Tribute Center. If you need me, don't bother calling, I'm not going to answer."

"Have fun," Will says sarcastically, turning back to the woman he was talking to before. Hestia shakes her head at him, considering flipping him off. So what if she's immature? Hestia still just…really doesn't care.

A/N: Hey! New SYOT! Third time around, let's go! Who's excited? I'm excited! I wrote this in like an hour! It probably sucks but I'm just too excited to get this third one going!

1. Thoughts on Hestia?

2. Thoughts on Will?

3. Thoughts on the arena?

4. Thoughts on Macy?

Random Question of the Chapter: who was the Avox with Macy?

My Answer: well, obviously I know, and anyone who has read TYAU would know too. And yeah, his name is Shallow, but there's obviously more to it than that.

Okay, okay, I'm sure you're wondering what's up with this one this time around. First off, it's not first come, first-served. I'll hopefully announce the close date next chapter. I want to figure out how many submissions I'll probably get before I make a decision.

Here is the google form for it (it's also on my profile, along with all the rules): pcXAchWusAHAu BrXA (Remove the spaces).

It'll be a bit before we check in with Arthur for our next prologue, since I've got some epilogues to write for DAH, but I hope to see you here again and that you'll consider submitting!