I don't own "Hunger Games" (wishful thinking). That world and the characters belong to Suzanne Collins. I claim all original characters.

A/N: So this came to me just last night and it turned out so beautiful... I had to continue (Yes I'm quoting Edna Mode here).

For new readers to my stories: This will be more interesting if you've read Silent Games up through Chapter 41... It'll make the first part of this make sense and not spoil that story. But if you still want to read this then just skip the first section of this chapter.

For current readers: All right I lied, but unknowingly. So the next email alert you get about my stories isn't for "Silent Games" but a spinoff. I wanted to do a POV change in "Silent Games" since there's some interesting stuff going on that Vixen isn't around for but I wanted to share. After some advice from 'Sohypothetically' I decided against that idea (thanks, this way is better ^_^). Instead you'll get more detail about a character that up until last night I didn't really explore. I promise to get back to Vixen soon since this is (supposed to be) a short story.

Silent Games- Knight

You're being taken to Messalina. There's a problem and I don't have to explain so you're just going to have to keep up and play along, I sign to Vixen.

"What are you telling her," the snapper asks.

I really don't care what they're names are so I've just done up nicknames. Snapper suits this one anyway. Writing a curt reply I hand it to her.

"Touchy," she replies.

My orders are simple: Get Vixen cleaned up and in costume and then take her to Messalina. After that I'm to come straight back to the Control Room. Under no circumstances am I to stick around since there's a show to put on.

The knights dismiss the Peacekeepers before acknowledging Vixen. "Her Majesty is expecting you."

The doors to the Great Hall open long enough to allow the knights and her through before closing again. I stare at the doors, my eyes narrowing. She better come out of this thing alive or I'm going to kill her.

"How is our young princess doing?" Grandfather asks teasingly.

But I'm not in the mood for his games. I love him, but I spent so many more years hating him. Hated him and my parents… at least the parents everyone thought I had. Never did meet my biological father out of my mother's fear her husband would find out. Doesn't matter, what Victor would have anything to do with the product of a night they never wanted? There were some exceptions but mine wouldn't be one of them.

I found out when I was fifteen. Someone came to my house and threatened my mother that if she didn't help him out with something, that he would tell my father the truth. But he didn't understand one rule: You don't threaten a Panthra. All she had to do was tell her father and the man disappeared before dawn the next day. But the damage was done and I never trusted her again.

It was out of spite that I started attending the meetings. This sort of thing would be an embarrassment for my family if anyone found out. At first I thought it was all talk this new world with new laws, elections, and no Hunger Games. But then I realized they were being serious.

I knew I should back out, to report them, but I was too curious what they planned to do. That and I knew what would happen to them if they did. I liked these people too much and couldn't do that. They knew I shouldn't be trusted but the idea of converting me to their viewpoint was just too much fun to pass up.

The next year I watched the Hunger Games differently than I ever had before. I did see them as kids, kids that were my age. How was it that I ever enjoyed this sort of thing?

After that I opened my eyes to what was around me. My mother's crimes paled in comparison to what others were doing. But that was no excuse. Father wasn't much better and Grandfather was the worst of them all. I didn't care if they were family I wanted to see the fall of the Capitol.

Then someone slipped. Peacekeepers started asking questions about two of our friends. The others managed to stall them for a few weeks stating that they left on a tour of the arenas and would be back soon enough. At least that's what they told them. But eventually they realized we were only stalling. And then the hunt began.

A friend of my mother's came over with the news. As a member of the hunting party some details are just too delicious not to share. Runaways provided good sport for the time between the Hunger Games. There were points for a kill but even more for a successful capture. The fewer injuries the more points because of the fate that would await them when they returned home. She won the hunt. Aeneas was dead and his girlfriend was just turned over to the surgeons to be turned into an Avox. They left to celebrate soon after.

It didn't take long for me to hack into my father's account to confirm the report. I went straight to my friend's house to tell him. I needed to talk to someone who would let me cry about this since I couldn't do it at home. He was acting all weird, but I was so horrified by what I just heard that I wasn't paying attention to the signs until it was too late.

"I'm really sorry, Aurelia."

"What did you do?" I whisper. I know the answer even before the Peacekeepers rush into the room. I've seen the look of betrayal one too many times in my life.

Grandfather walked into the interrogation room stunned. No one dared to torture me yet, not with my grandfather being Marcus Panthra. The evidence against me was damning and there was no way to spin it and especially not to him. I didn't even try.

My hate for my grandfather reached a new low when they asked him if they should proceed in questioning me.

"If you really think you can get something out of her," Grandfather scoffed. "I did train her to resist interrogation. It might be interesting to see if she paid attention to her lessons."

They did try and I will never recount those weeks to anyone. Johanna Mason would have some idea though. At the end, Grandfather came in with a satisfied smirk.

"So the only thing they've managed to get out of you was that you hate the Capitol and everyone in it. Got to say I'm impressed. You're friend broke down on the first day."

I don't have the strength to even glare at him let alone look at him.

"Tell me," he says amused. "Do you really hate me that much?"

"You can't begin to imagine how much I hate you," I croak.

He kneels beside me and whispers in my ear in a tone I've never heard from him before, "There was nothing I could do for you. There still isn't."

"Go to he-."

I don't finish telling him where he should go when a coughing fit strikes me. Who knew those would be my last words in this life.

A/N for readers of "Silent Games": Am I forgiven for the delay?