I’ve made a vote asking of people would read it if I made this; but fanpop had a glitch which make the vote didn't existed even if I’ve tried for 5 times already. I’ve recently read “The Hunger Games” and it is amazing, very well-written that I’ve gotten an idea to make Winx Club in an AU of The Hunger Games (none of the Winx will have POWERS and are all at the age of 14, and this will mainly focus on Daphne) the characters will also be effected par the following:

Katniss Everdeen: Daphne (story will be in her P.O.V)
Primrose Everdeen: Bloom
Mrs. Everdeen: Queen Marion
Mr. Everdeen: King Oritel
Peeta Mellark: Dan Howell (my own OC)
Gale Hawthorne: Josh Keaton (my own OC)
Haymitch: Haymitch
Effie: Effie

Part I—The Tributes, Chapter 11



When I wake up, the other side of my lit is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Bloom's warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Obviously she did. Today is the jour of the reaping.

I hommage myself up on one elbow. There's enough light in the bedroom to see them. Bloom curled up on her side, cocooned on my mother's body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Bloom's face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as a blooming flower. Sitting at Bloom's knees, guarding her, is the world's cutest cat. Bloom named him Momo.

I balançoire, swing my legs off the lit and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has moulded to my feet. Our part of District 12, is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this hour. The reaping isn't until two, may as well sleep in. If toi can.

In the woods waits the only person with whom I can be myself. Josh. I climb up the hills. The sight of him waiting there brings a smile. Josh says I never smile except in the woods. "Hey, Death-nee," says Josh. My real name is Daphne, but when I first told him he always joked about it. Such a despair.

Josh took out a loaf of bread. I took a piece of it. "Mm, still warm." I say. "Thanks to Prim we'll have a real feast—she left us cheese." I pull out some cheese from my brown leather bag. Josh smiles. Suddenly he mimics Effie Trinket, who usually reads out the reaping yearly for The Hunger Games. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds—"

I crunched the pain in my mouth, the sweet tartness explodes across my tongue. "—be ever in your favor," I finish. I watch as Josh pulls out his couteau and slice plus of the bread. He could be my brother. Straight black hair, olive skin; we even have the same grey eyes.

"We could do it, toi know," Josh says quietly.
"What?" I ask.
"Leave the district. Run off, live in the woods. toi and I. We could make it," says Josh.
"Forget it!" I say. The idea is so preposterous.

The conversation feel all wrong. Leave? How could I leave Bloom, who is the only person in the world I certainly care about? And Josh is devoted to his family. We can't live, so why would Josh even insist? There's never been romantic moments between me and Josh, but I need him. We then get back.

Just as the clock strikes two, the mayor steps out to the podium and begins to read. The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for uprising, each of twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty-four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena and over a period of several weeks, the competitors must fight to death. The last tribute standing wins.

To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol insists us to treat the Games like a festival, ou maybe a culture. The last tribute alive receives a life of ease at home, and their district will have loads of prizes and foods. The mayor reads liste of part District 12 victors. In seventy-four years, we have bad exactly only one. Haymitch Abernathy, he's drunk.

Effie replaces the mayor on the podium, looking bright as usual. She's about to announce the tribute as usual. "Ladies first," She says. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. Effie crosses back to the podium, reads out a name in a clear voice. And it's not me.

It's Bloom.

There must have been a mistake. This can't be happening. Bloom was one slip of paper in thousands! Her chances of being chosen were so remote that I'd not even bothered to worry about her. Somewhere far away, I can hear the crowd murmuring as they always do when a fourteen-year old gets chosen, because no one think this is fair. With one sweep of arm, I push Bloom behind me.

"I volunteer!" I gasp. "I volunteer as tribute!" As a sister, I'm responsible to do so, right? "Lovely," says Effie. "But I believe there's a small matter of—" "What's the matter?" The mayor asks. He's looking at me with a pain expression in his face. "Let her come forward," He continues. The girl who five years il y a was so afraid and didn't ever wanted to rejoindre the Games decided to volunteer.

"No!" Bloom is screaming hysterically behind me. She's wrapped skinny arms around me like a vice. "No, Daphne! toi can't go!" "Let me go," I say harshly. When they televise the reapings tonight, everyone must have laugh for me to volunteer. What's to laugh about? A girl named Daphne volunteered to protect her sister. It isn't funny.

"Bravo!" Effie says. "That's the spirit of the Games!" She's pleased to finally have a district with action going on it. "What's your name?"

"Daphne, Bloom's my sister." I answer. "Let's give a big round of applause for our volunteer!" Effie says as the crowd clap their hands.

"Remember, though." Effie says.
"Remember what?" I ask.
"This Games will change your life forever." She says.

I gulp.
Change my life forever kept repeating in my head.
It will change my life forever, wouldn't it?