Dynasty

PROLOGUE: REGULUS BLACK IS A POMPOUS BASTARD

        The morning of the fiftieth annual Reaping Day was a chaotic one for Sirius Black. His family was in such a rush, running about the Manor in a tizzy, as they tried to look perfectly presentable to all of Panem. After all, the Victor dynasty that was the Black clan wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfection. For once, the Black heir was among those dashing about the house, preening in a way that would seem vain to anyone not of the Capitol or District One.

        Once his appearance was deemed passable, Sirius stood in the grand foyer, examining this year’s annual Black family portrait. He snorted in derision; he truly did look just like the rest of his family. He was a complete carbon copy of his father, having inherited those coveted ebony locks of hair and molten grey eyes. He scanned the framed work of art, tracing the stoic faces of himself and the current bane of his existence: Regulus Arcturus Black, or “Reggie,” as Sirius (sometimes lovingly) called him.

         His pompous bastard of a younger brother was only fifteen and had accomplished what Sirius could only dream of and he never let Sirius forget it. Every chance he got, Regulus would regale his family with the tale of his victory in last year’s Hunger Games as if they hadn’t been watching the damn thing live. Of course, their mother was far too happy to indulge him as she was just “so, so proud” of her baby boy. In fact, ever since Regulus strutted off the train with that crown nestled in his jet black hair, he couldn’t do anything wrong in his family’s eyes.

        “Finally, another Black Victor!” his father and Victor of the twenty-fifth Games, Orion, had boomed.

        Just thinking about it made Sirius’ blood absolutely boil. He had done everything right; Sirius was at the top of the Academy, his trainers said that he showed incredible promise, he had even planned on waiting until he was at the top of the age bracket before volunteering for the Hunger Games, unlike his “darling” brother. Sirius began to wonder if waiting until he was at the top of the age bracket was really worth it anymore.

        He arrived at the great land of ‘Fuck It’ when President Riddle announced the changes that would accompany this year’s Quarter Quell.
     

       Sirius remembered learning of the Quell’s “theme” as if it was yesterday- he sat on a far-too-large chair that felt like it could swallow him up at any moment, staring at the television almost obsessively. The Black clan dined early that night to prepare for the big announcement, each member proposing their own theories as to what the possible twist could be, each suggestion more outlandish than the last.
       
        Sirius’ eccentric uncle and Victor Alphard’s idea that twice as many tributes would compete certainly took the cake as the craziest of all. Honestly, even his cousin Narcissa’s theory was more reasonable, and she thought that the Capitol might somehow resurrect all the fallen tributes who had placed second in their respective Games for one last showdown! “Anything is possible with the Capitol.” She had said.

        Really, what were the odds that Sirius’ ever-drunk uncle would be right about anything? As it would turn out, the odds were very high.
   
        They had all leant as close to the television as possible as if it would somehow impact the speed with which they would find out this year’s twist. President Riddle stood tall and proud in front of a ceremonial podium. He smiled thinly at both the audience and the cameras before beginning his speech. “Panem, thank you all for joining me tonight.”

        It was at this moment that Sirius decided to zone out for a bit, just until Riddle got to what he deemed the important part. This “important part” came approximately twenty minutes later when Riddle finally finished his rant about the grand history of Panem. The president cleared his throat before beginning once more.

 
        “Friends, each Quarter Quell offers us the opportunity to learn about our mistakes. It allows us to become better than we once were. It allows us to reach new heights.” the President cleared his throat and took a shuddering breath before continuing, “The second Quarter Quell affords us a very valuable lesson. It reminds us that greatness and military might is not simply a numbers game as those rebels had originally thought. It shows us that even the biggest armies cannot overcome the Capitol. Therefore, forty-eight tributes will compete in the fiftieth annual Hunger Games as opposed to the normal twenty-four.”
 
        Regulus’ breath hitched.

        Walburga dropped the glass she was holding. “Forty-eight?” she gasped.

        “Forty-eight!” Orion affirmed with a laugh. “Let’s see who comes out on top this year. Bellatrix certainly has her work cut out for her.”

        “Bellatrix?” Sirius scoffed.
 
        Regulus fixed his brother with a stare that Sirius knew all too well. It was the look Regulus wore whenever he was playing chess with his father and was mulling over his options. It was the look he wore when he knew something someone else didn’t, or when he knew something one would rather he didn’t. It was a look Sirius didn’t want aimed at him.

         “Yes, Sirius. Bellatrix.” Regulus said slowly, as if speaking to a small child.

        Sirius’ mind was absolutely racing. This was his chance! This was how he could prove that he was just as good as his brother. Sure, he couldn’t be the youngest victor in Panem’s history, but he could be the Victor that won against forty-seven other people! His mind was made up- Sirius Black would be the Victor of the second Quarter Quell.

        Sirius had thought that the walk to Town Square would be a long and heavy one, but in actuality it was like walking on air. His fate was sealed; he knew he would volunteer.

         He knew he must have looked a bit demented, getting his blood taken and identified with a grin that practically split his face in two. He didn’t care, though. This was the first step on Sirius’ path to greatness!

         He daydreamed about his future life in the Capitol and the film about Panem’s history and the Rebellion became simple background noise. How much longer until the Reaping would begin?

        He was practically bouncing in place when the District One escort, Dolores Umbridge waltzed on stage. Her heels clacked when she walked past the Victors’ chairs. Sirius almost laughed out loud when he saw Regulus’ blatant distaste for the troll-like woman. She was an assault on the senses; clad head-to-toe in pink, drowning in a far-too-sweet perfume (or so Regulus told him), and with a saccharine sweet soprano tone, Dolores Umbridge was Sirius’ worst nightmare.

         She adjusted the mic and tested its volume with a simple “Hem, hem.”

         Dolores leaned back to speak with one of her attendants before continuing. “Thank you all for joining me here today. Wasn’t that video just amazing?” she crooned while wiping her eyes. “Now, let’s get into the reason we’re all here today: the Reaping! As you all know, I’ll be choosing not two, but four names out of these bowls. Those whose names are picked must compete in the Games unless someone else volunteers. Any questions? No? Good. Now, let’s find out who will represent District One in the Second Quarter Quell!”

         The sheer volume of the responding cheers almost drowned out the final part of the District One escort’s speech. The screams and applause served as quite the adrenaline rush for Sirius. Soon, those cheers would be for him.

         Dolores appeared quite miffed that her oh-so-important speech was cut off, and huffed before continuing. “Now, ladies first!” She reached her hand into the girls’ bowl. “Peony-”

         “I volunteer!” Bellatrix Black, a tall, lithe girl with a mane of black hair and crazed grey eyes practically sprinted to the foot of the stage. “I volunteer!” she screamed once more in case she wasn’t heard the first time.

          The District One escort was ecstatic as she announced “Ooh! Our first volunteer! Congratulations, young girl. What is your name?”

         The girl in question smirked. “Bellatrix Black.” she answered with a smoothness that could only have come from hours of rehearsal.

        “Well, congratulations, Miss Black!” Dolores said.

         This process continued twice more (Aurelia Parkinson and Augustus Rookwood both volunteered in a fashion eerily similar to Sirius’ cousin) before Dolores ambled her way back to the microphone.

         “Sadly, we can only take one more of you with us to the Capitol, so let’s find out who that lucky young man is!”

         Sirius began inching his way to the end of his row, blood roaring in his veins.

         As soon as the escort said the name, no matter how little of it was said, another person could volunteer.

         He had his foot an inch away from the center aisle when-

         “Our final tribute is D-”

         “I volunteer!” Sirius bellowed at the top of his lungs and made direct eye contact with his brother while he did so. “I volunteer!” Sirius began to strut up to the stage.

         He could hear his dear cousin and fellow tribute’s cries of outrage to Regulus, Orion, and the plethora of the other Black Victors on the stage, and smirked. So much for this being Bella’s year, he chuckled to himself. He felt the piercing stares of his family members and held eye contact with his brother as he made the trek to the stage.

   “I am Sirius Black, and I volunteer for the fiftieth Hunger Games.”