Theon Greyjoy (age 17), District 5

"Theon, stop sulking so much, darling." My stylist Vanessa squeals. I resist the urge to give her the bird. She deserves it, dammit. "Your outfit is going to be so pretty~!"

"Pretty. Yay." I say flatly. "Will it help me get sponsors and survive?"

"...lets hope so!"

"Thanks for that vote of confidence." I grumble, and grab the aforementioned outfit, which is covered in a plastic bag so I don't even know what it looks like yet.

"You're welcome, darling~!" Sarcasm is lost on her, it seems. "Now hurry up and get changed! The tribute parade should be getting started soon!"

She disappears out the front door and I relax for the first time since I've walked in the room. Capitol accents--Capitol people in general--are exhausting.

District 5 is the district of power and electricity. Not a lot of outfits that you can make that don't look like freaky shit, so I don't have a lot of hope. But I take it out of the bag and hold it up anyway.

It's a suit made out of wires. I wince and touch it, but they don't feel scratchy. Huh. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

I put it on and head outside to meet Sansa. She's wearing the same thing so we match, but hers is 1., a dress, and 2., low-cut because Capitol people are perverts.

"You look nice," she says. "And don't say anything--I know I look like a slut."

"All the boys back home will be watching you." I grin and wiggle my eyebrows, and she punches me.

"Shut up. There are only two men I care about, and that's my papa and Robb."

I nod. I wonder if my own father will be watching. Asha might, but I doubt he will. And you know what? I don't care. I hate him. He beat me more times than I can count. Sansa and Robb and their family is better than I could ever ask for.

"Theon?" she nudges me. "Sorry for punching you. Are you all right?"

I grin a little again. "Of course I am. Now c'mon." I offer her my hand, and we head out to look for Vanessa and her stylist.

When we find them, they both take another minute to gush over our costumes. "Oh darlings," Sansa's stylist says. "At least you'll go out with a bang~! You both look simply gorgeous!"

...yeah, the first part wasn't a compliment. Like, what the fuck? You'll say that to our fucking faces?

Sansa squeezes my wrist. "Thank you," she says graciously. "Now I think we should get to our chariot."

She turns and drags me away to said chariot. I'm still fuming.

"How dare they say that to our faces?" I snap. "I mean, I don't really expect to win, but--I don't want people to say that to my face! Or yours, dammit!"

"They don't mean it, Theon." she sighs and climbs up into the thing. "They're not smart enough to realize they shouldn't."

"That's no excuse." I grumble. She smiles sadly and offers me her hand to pull me up. I take it and haul myself up into the chariot.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the president booms as the lights dim. We got there just in time, I think wryly. "And especially tributes. On my behalf and on the behalf of everyone in Panem: welcome to the Capitol!"

Everyone cheers and claps. I cross my arms.

"Do you think we'll be okay?" Sansa whispers in the dark next to me. I feel her hand on my arm and I smile sadly, though she can't see me. "Theon? I mean--we're going into the Hunger Games."

"Pfft, we'll be fine."

"This isn't some joke between you and Robb, Theon! This is serious!" she falters. "We--we'll probably die."

"No we won't." I say offhandedly. "Trust me, Sansa. We just have to be smart and act tough and stick together. We'll be fine. Now," I look back at President Snow, who's still talking like the asshat he is. "Let's enjoy the Capitol while we're here. Who knows--there might even be a kracken here."

She punches me again, but lighter. I grin, and brace myself for the chariot to start moving...