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Poppies on the Wheat

Chapter Text


Her Name Will Be Fearless

And in all the stories my daughter shall hear,

It will not be princes that slay the dragons,

but little girls that believe in magic

with big, brave hearts, and even bigger dreams.

She will learn to rely on her own sword,

in every battle, in every struggle, in every war.

because she will learn how to devour

every single monster from their very core.

--Nikita Gill

It was after Persephone endured her first Reaping that she began to understand just how bad things were in the place she called home. She never realized children didn’t get to come home from school with a table of food, or by picking a small grape from the vine was a death sentence. It was after those first games when something in her changed. She remembers watching prior Games but as she watched the Tribute from 11, a 16 year old girl named Wren get violently ripped apart by tree vines she couldn’t help but think: that could’ve been me.


She started to notice the total disparity from normal District 11 citizens to her family and decided she would no longer let the injustice others faced pass. So she started with the first thing she could think of, to make her intentions known to her fellow District 11 citizens that she would help them any way she could. She picked a blueberry.


She remembered the peacekeeper taking her to her father’s office to tell him what she had done and he seemed at a loss.


“Why would you do something so idiotic, Persephone? Do you want attention? Well you’ve got it now.” he roared.


She remembered smiling at him as she said: It’s not attention I want, it’s equal treatment.


Her father’s face scrunched in displeasure knowing what would be done and nodded to the peacekeeper to drag her to the square.


Her father called a gathering of all the citizens who stood uniformly like soldiers at attention. He told them that even I, the beloved daughter of District 11 was not above the law laid down by the Capital.


Persephone was relieved of the top half of her dress, splashed with water and whipped 40 times. She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to show strength. She wanted to show the citizens that she was with them, they were one. Eventually, she passed out.


She woke again to her mother crying by her bedside asking her why she would do such a thing. And that’s where it all began for her. That was when she was truly born. Her self given mission: steal from the Capital and give to those in need. It reminded her of one of her favorite Days of Old books from when she was younger about a man who did the same. She would be him in this world of cruelty and injustice, she would be Robin Hood.