A/N: Um, put down the pitchforks, ok? HERE! *Shoves Klefan at you*
Disclaimer: I'm too poor to buy the CW and I think trying to buy Suzanne Collins would be considered illegal.
Survive
"I want to do something, right here, right now, to shame them, to make them accountable, to show the Capitol that whatever they do or force us to do that there is a part of every tribute they can't own." - The Hunger Games
"You were only sixteen when you won right?" He questioned Alaric across the breakfast table, sending his now customary quick glance at Caroline to make sure she wasn't going to break into a million pieces any time soon.
"Yeah," Alaric sighed heavily, taking a swig of his scotch which caused Stefan to wince. This early in the morning? Really? "You didn't watch my games last night with the rest?"
Stefan shrugged, "well yeah but…" He trailed off at Alaric's raised eyebrow. "I guess we're just looking for some pointers."
"Here's a tip," The blonde victor threw out sarcastically, "stay alive!" He frowned immediately as if realising he'd been too harsh and ran his hands over his face. "Look, I'm sorry you got me, ok? I'm sorry you have no one else to choose from."
Stefan gaped. "You won the second quarter quell when you were sixteen. There were forty-eight victors that year instead of the usual twenty-four! Aren't you the most qualified?" He was inches away from pulling his hair out. Stefan was normally a serene personality. Damon was the hothead and Stefan remained calm, no matter what the situation…now though, he was nearing his wit's end.
"The most qualified?" Saltzman snarled. "I thought you said you watched my games!" He yelled across the table. "If you had, you'd know I won by luck! Sheer dumb luck!"
Stefan slammed his hands on the table as he stood, glaring across at their mentor. "It might have been luck that killed the last tribute, yeah! It might have been luck that Isobel saved you once," He knew he was on thin ice mentioning the fellow District 12 tribute but was unable to stop himself. "But there were forty-eight tributes in that arena and you made it out! You! It doesn't matter if there were one or two lucky instances, of course there were! But you managed to survive, now fucking teach us how!"
His chest was heaving with exertion as he stared down the forty year old in front of him, refusing to budge. "I am not asking you, to teach me how to kill," He enunciated, "I am not asking you to share the gory details of your games, I am asking you how to survive."
He didn't even know the butter knife was in his hand until he'd slammed it down into the wood of the table in front of him and Caroline's hand was on his bicep, for once, the blonde girl was trying to calm him down and not the other way around.
"Well aren't you a little ripper?" Saltzman sneered before getting up from his chair and stalking from the room.
"Stefan…" Caroline whined and he knew she had every right to. He'd probably just blown what little help they could have gotten from their 'esteemed mentor' because he couldn't reign in his temper. Not that he thought Alaric Saltzman would be particularly useful anyway but he hadn't just sunk the ship – he'd driven it up onto the rocks.
"Sorry Care," he sighed, shaking his head. "That was my fault."
"It's ok, Stefan." She said softly, "he's a dick anyway." Stefan choked on a laugh at that.
"That much is true." He sighed again, making his way over to the window to watch as the scenery passed by. At least if he was going to die he was seeing something outside of District 12 first. There were so many different landscapes he could barely imagine that they'd glimpsed on their way to the Capitol.
"Do you think we stand a chance at all?" Caroline crossed her arms over her chest protectively, joining him at the window. "And don't lie to me Stefan, don't just tell me what you think I need to hear."
Something in his heart broke a little at that. It wasn't as if she were a little girl but she wasn't like him either. Caroline had her mother, unlike Stefan and they did well for themselves, the two of them never went hungry at least. She had lived a pretty wholesome and sheltered life until now. The girl had no idea how to hunt…how to survive and that made her just as vulnerable as a child.
He felt the burning urge to protect her from everything the Capitol was throwing at them, even if she didn't want him to. "We have a decent chance Care." He leant his forehead against the cool glass.
"I don't know how to survive Stefan…and these people are trained killers." She bit her bottom lip in worry and he turned to place his hands on her cheeks.
"I know how to survive Caroline, I know how to hunt. Hunting people can't be that much different. I'll protect you." He drew her into a hug. "We'll avoid them, all of them for as long as possible and then when it comes down to it, we don't go down without a fight." Although he tried not to let on, he didn't feel as solid about his plan as he portrayed. The only way one could avoid the bloodbaths in the arena was if the gamemakers let them.
He'd seen games where tributes had been almost to the edge of the arena but been turned back by mutts or trackerjackers, once even a tidal wave. The only reason Saltzman had been able to avoid detection for most of his games when he reached the edge of the arena with Isobel was because there were double the amount of tributes that time and there was much more going on to entertain the Capitol citizens elsewhere.
"We'll have time in the training week to teach you a few things." He said calmly, reassuring her. I'm good with a bow and arrow and exceptional with knives. I can teach you too."
She laughed wryly, seeing though his air of confidence. "I know you'll try Stefan, but you've been hunting your entire life…I have a week."
He only smiled, refusing to let her weakness bring a dark cloud upon them. "It's a good thing you have a brilliant teacher then, isn't it?" He grinned, dragging her back to the breakfast table. "C'mon, let's not let this food go to waste." Because as much as it horrified him, the spread before him that a District 12 citizen could only imagine, this could very well be 'the last supper' so to speak for them. They should enjoy it regardless of the circumstance.
"Ok, so, strategy wise," Caroline started, half a mouth of bread impeding her speech, "do we head to the cornucopia?"
Stefan bit his lip. "It depends if the supplies are spread out, or all kept in the one place." One year all the supplies could be a giant pile at the cornucopia and the next they could be spread out for metres around it, they wouldn't know until they were on their launch discs.
"We need weapons though," He sighed. "I'm not good enough to make a bow…Damon probably could," He grunted, "but I was never good at making things, only killing them."
"Well that's still good right?" Caroline brightened up and he couldn't help but snort at the grin she gave him.
"Yeah, but it means we need some supplies. A knife at least and that's something you can't make." He paused thoughtfully. "If they're not spread out around the cornucopia we might be better off running from the bloodbath and then coming back to steal a weapon later."
He had to ponder then who the careers alliance would be. The blonde siblings from District 2 obviously, Stefan couldn't help bite his lip, wondering what they were like. They puzzled him from the footage of their reaping. They were sent as volunteers but quite clearly weren't happy about it – it made him wonder what was going on there.
"What are you thinking about?" Caroline asked suddenly, seeing the pensive look upon his face.
"The careers…" He murmured, tapping a finger against his chin.
"Ah, the blonde one?" She smirked at him, thumping him in the arm.
"What?" He gaped, "no!"
She clearly didn't believe him but he let it slide considering it had put a smile on her face and she clearly needed that.
"Sure. He is cute."
"That's for sure," Stefan mumbled under his breath before raising his voice. "He's a career, even if there was something weird about their reaping."
Caroline nodded at that. "You know what else was weird?" She turned to him suddenly, "their names."
Stefan raised an eyebrow, "They're not that different?" He half-stated, half-asked, thinking back on their reaping. Niklaus and Rebekah – not common but not exactly something to be shocked at.
"Not their first names, you idiot!" Caroline rolled her eyes. "Their surname. It was Mikaelson."
Stefan hummed, seeing what she was getting at, "like President Mikaelson?"
Caroline nodded, "yeah, exactly. It's not that common either is it?"
Stefan shrugged, "don't you think we'd know if they were related to him? And besides, they're from Two, not One…" He trailed off, not feeling it necessary to add that if they were related to the current president of Panem then their names probably wouldn't even make it to the reaping bowl.
"I see your point." Caroline admitted. "I just thought it was a strange coincidence that's all."
Stefan filed away her thoughts anyway because despite all the reasons he gave, he was still unable to shake the feeling that something was off with that particular pair of siblings.
"Ok," Caroline began. "So we have them and then Katerina and Kol, the tributes from One." She listed them off on her fingers. "And the boy from four as well, the hottie." Stefan rolled his eyes as she finished, knowing already that her categorization of the tributes was based on looks.
"So at least five of them," Stefan murmured, "possibly more if they recruit allies in training." Traditionally the careers took over the cornucopia so if they didn't get supplies on the first run, that was what they were up against…without weapons.
"That isn't going to work." He sighed, pulling a hand through his short hair.
"What if…we ally with them?" Caroline asked hesitantly and Stefan could answer that question immediately.
"No. No way."
"Why not?" She asked, her eyes pleading with him to at least consider it.
"Because they'll turn on you the first chance you get." It wasn't Stefan that answered and they both flipped around from the window at the same time to where their mentor had finally gotten over his earlier tizzy as Stefan was calling it.
"And there's no way you'll be able to predict when that will be," he continued as Caroline opened her mouth to object, "and since you'll have no warning, they'll have no problem tearing you to shreds."
"So what do we do then?" Caroline questioned him angrily but it was Stefan who answered.
"What you're going to do is run." He sent them both a look that told them arguing with him would be futile and he wouldn't be budging from this point. "When it starts you turn on your disc and bolt in the opposite direction as fast as you can until you can find someplace to hide." He explained. "I'll get supplies (and by that, they all knew he meant weapons) and come find you."
"What if…what if someone finds me first?" She questioned quietly.
"They won't." He answered firmly. "You keep running until you find somewhere good enough to hide – don't stop until you do."
She looked over at Alaric as if he would contradict the madness coming out of Stefan's mouth but he merely remained silent, staring at Stefan in contemplation.
"It's not debatable Caroline."
And that was that, it wasn't until Alaric cornered him by himself later that he knew what that contemplative look had been for. "What exactly do you plan on doing?" He questioned and even though he went on to explain, Stefan knew immediately what he was talking about. "Protect her the entire games? She's dead weight for you."
Stefan glared at him darkly. "She's a friend."
"And even if you do manage to protect the damsel," Saltzman continued on seemingly obliviously, "what happens when it comes down to just the two of you?"
"I don't know." He grit out and that much was the truth. "I haven't thought that far ahead yet." Because he didn't want to. He didn't want to examine his futile future. He wasn't ready to die, he wasn't ready to leave Damon by himself, not when he had a chance to come home to him. But if that meant killing Caroline, would he do it? Could he?
He felt sickened for even thinking of it, considering such a thing felt so inherently wrong to him…but what else could he do? No. He wouldn't think about it, he would leave it up to fate and when the time came – If they both survived for that time to come – he would think of it then.
Besides history could attest that by that point in the games he probably wouldn't even be the same person anymore and isn't that a scary thought. But it's human nature – adapt to survive and when you go through something as horrible as the games, they change you – the evidence was right here in front of him.
The victor in front of him could read him like a book. "Do you really think that's wise?" He mumbled and Stefan knew he was speaking as a man who'd been in his shoes before, who'd had to think about making his own choice, but perhaps luckily depending on how you looked at it, he was robbed of that choice. Stefan might not be so lucky.
"Would you prefer if I were some kind of fool, claiming I'd die for her to live in a heartbeat?" He hissed quietly, paranoid that now he'd uttered his darkest thoughts, spoken the worst part of himself out loud Caroline would appear around a corner and crumble – and he would crumble with her.
Alaric remained silent for a moment before finally answering with a hard and resounding, "no." And that was all that was said.
"Good." Stefan hissed, before turning and stalking away, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. He hadn't even made it to the Capitol yet and that games were already changing him, but he expected it. You couldn't be a killer and a good person, life didn't work like that.
What seemed like minutes later but was actually hours they were pulling into the station at the Capitol and exiting the train. He knew he should smile, he knew he should put on some kind of lovable persona for the terrifying rainbow creatures out there that were the Capitol citizens, the sponsors, his brain reminded him, but he just couldn't do it. He hated them, all of them for making him do this, for putting his family through this and to be honest he wished he could kill all of them instead. See how much they liked a bloodbath then.
Caroline was smiling hesitantly and waving and Stefan instantly knew they'd find her charming and beautiful and he was relieved for that, she needed all the help she could get, so sponsors should definitely be a high aim for her.
They barely saw the Capitol as they were ushered through to meet their stylists and to be honest Stefan didn't care much for his at all. The woman was thrilled with him, commenting that she barely had to do anything at all with him (he was kind of glad considering he'd heard terrible stories about eyebrows being ripped out and leg hair coming off) sending away the three assistants she had with her, feeling she wouldn't need them. She even let him bathe in peace which he supposed won her a few points.
She was pedantic about his clothes though, insisting that she would burn everything he had on later and supply him with a whole new wardrobe, which hey, did it really matter that much anyway? He wouldn't be alive long enough to worry.
He berated himself immediately for thinking that way, he had to believe he could win, or at least try to believe it – mind over matter and all. He had people to come home to, family to come home to. He wasn't really listening as the stylist blabbed on and on about his costume for the parade thing they did and all about how she thought she'd really captured District 12 and blah, blah, blah. That was, at least, until her hand came careening forward to slap him across the face.
"I get that you don't want to be here, but at least try and be a little enthusiastic, yeah?" She shook her head, "I was told you were a little ripper, made a scene at your reaping and all, but you certainly aren't showing me much."
He shook his head at her words, frowning. "Listen, I don't-"
"No!" She cut him off, "you listen and listen well boy. I get that you don't want to be here, but if you want to make it out of these games alive, you need sponsors." She threw up her hand to halt him as he once again tried to interrupt. "And," she continued on more forcefully, "I know the capitol, I know how these people work and what they like – so you'd do well to listen."
He sighed, "I'm sorry alright?" Rolling his eyes, he brought up a hand to run it through his hair in unconscious frustration but found that slapped away as well.
"You never learn do you?" She shook her head. "Never mind. I suppose it looks alright messed up anyway."
He winced, folding his arms across his chest and stared at her expectantly. "So…the people of the capitol…"
"Like pretty things." She finished. "You are a pretty thing. They'll like you." She moved back to push at another part of the wall behind her, opening another compartment and pulling out a black, shimmering piece of cloth.
"They will like you even more in this."
Stefan couldn't help but stare. The pants she presented him with were plain black and seemed to be not-quite leather, not-quite vinyl. They were shiny though, black and shiny and when he put them on... "These are…tight?" He would deny any accusations that his voice came out a few octaves higher than usual.
"I told you. Your looks are an asset. We're displaying your…assets."
He couldn't help but feel a little mortified. "Really? This is really necessary?"
"Honey, I guarantee you at least five sponsors from the pants alone." She raised an eyebrow before flinging another garment towards him. "And with the lack of a shirt, I guarantee you a few allies in the arena too." She winked at him.
"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered lowly, looking down at the cloth in his hands. It was a jacket made of the same material, not dissimilar to the old leather one his brother Damon wore all the time in winter back in the district. This one however was obviously shinier to match the pants and it was covered all over in what he could only describe as spikes made out of some sort of black stone. The shiny studded pieces protruded from all over the jacket, making it seem like some kind of bizarre…monster.
When he shrugged it on over his naked torso the stylist squealed with glee, clapping her hands. "This is perfect!" Stefan turned to look at himself in the floor length mirror provided, tilting his head to the side. "You get it don't you?" She asked, motioning at the jacket and continuing before he could respond. "You know, coal being a big thing in your district and all."
She was right he supposed, the stones in the jacket and the luminous shine of the entire outfit could sort of remind him of the shiny sedimentary rock before it was carved down, though he wasn't too sure about the costuming choice of, well, going as a rock. It did look good though, he could admit – even if he was uncomfortable with how tight the pants were.
"You know you can't go to the parade like that right?"
He blinked at the interruption to his thoughts, turning back to face her again. "Like what?"
"You have to own it." She responded. "I don't care if you're uncomfortable, you can't show it – at all. They'll eat you alive out there if you do."
He took a deep breath, managing to force out a nod. "Ok. I can do that," he said, more to himself than to her. "I can do that."
A door to the right of them opened then and Stefan turned his head to find Caroline entering the room with a strut, seeming to be completely in her element. Fear seemed to be a foreign concept to the girl when you dressed her up and did her hair.
"Stefan! Wow." She mouthed, looking him up and down. Her hair was up in a high pony and a fringe had been cut in across her forehead. Her makeup had been done dark and shadowy to match her own all-black ensemble.
She was wearing a dress made from the same material as his clothes, the bust coming up into some rather large shoulder pads, the entire top half of the outfit covered in the same stones as his jacket. She had shoes on with heels big enough that she was towering over him by just an inch and while she'd probably never worn anything like it before, she was managing well. Her own stylist had probably given her a crash course, he assumed.
He was torn upon seeing her once more – it would be so much easier for him to just distance himself now, to have minimum contact with her and just stay away. But he couldn't do that. Damon always told him he cared too much and while Stefan had denied it, he knew it was true…and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.
"Stefan?" Caroline was staring at him expectantly now, her blonde hair swaying in its tie behind her.
He let out a breath. "You look lovely Caroline," he placed a hand on her arm reassuringly, grabbing her hand as they were waved out of the room by their escorts.
"Alright, so the chariot is going to take you out, you're going to wave at the crowds and look stunning in general. I trust that won't be too hard for you?" It was Caroline's stylist speaking but he was looking at Stefan, who straightened out his spine in response. What, did his reputation precede him or something?
They were lead outdoors to a quadrant area where their chariots awaited them, tributes that Stefan recognized from other reapings milling around in costumes as well, some of them with their stylists and others with their mentors.
"There you are!" Alaric grinned as he approached them, but Stefan barely paid him any mind. His gaze was fixated across the cobblestone to where two blondes leaned against the brick wall carelessly, talking to each other in low voices. They were suited up like roman gladiators, warriors from ancient times and Stefan certainly thought it suited.
The male tribute, (Niklaus, his brain supplied) was lithe, but muscular and even more alluring in person than on video. Stefan hadn't managed to avert his gaze before the other tribute's head tilted up and captured his stare. Icy blues held his gaze and Stefan wondered what-
"Stefan!" Caroline slapped him in the arm. "Jesus Christ, I know he's attractive but seriously?"
"What?" He blurted, biting his bottom lip.
"I've called your name like five times already!"
"Oh. Sorry." He muttered, flicking his gaze back across the quadrant only to find that the blonde was looking away now, the sibling's attention captured by their own mentor.
"Do you know who that is?" Alaric asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Their mentor I mean," he explained further. When Stefan and Caroline both shook their heads he continued, "that's Enobaria."
Stefan's eyes widened. "Oh."
"What? Why does that sound familiar?" Caroline asked as Stefan's eyes darted back and forth between Alaric and the woman he'd just identified.
"She's a victor," Stefan explained.
"Yeah, the 62nd Hunger Games," Alaric continued sarcastically before Stefan cut in again.
"I didn't get to watch her games on the train, but I remember hearing about it – they talked about her for years after her victory."
Caroline frowned, "why? What did she do that was so special?"
Alaric looked at him with raised eyebrows, an expression that clearly said 'will you tell her, or will I?'.
"She uh…supposedly ripped out a tribute's throat…with her teeth." Stefan muttered, looking warily back across at the Mikaelson siblings as if they too would attempt the feat. They definitely looked capable of it.
"That she did." Alaric muttered, before waving them up into a waiting carriage. "Now, have fun kids and make sure you look good!" He drawled, before walking over to join their stylists and escort where he assumed they'd take a seat in the audience.
Stefan turned back again to find District 2's carriage, before being swatted in the arm again by Caroline.
"Could you please stop staring at them?" She glared at him, clearly frazzled. "What if they come over here and tear our throats out?"
He couldn't help but snort at that, but did as she asked anyway and looked around to take in the rest of the tributes. The two darker skinned tributes from District 11 were in front of them and the girl caught his eye, offering a small smile which he returned.
He remembered her reaping and wondered why no one had volunteered for her. She seemed so…pure. Surely someone would take pity? But they hadn't and she was left to die like the rest of them, there was nothing that could be done for her. Life wasn't cruel – but Panem was.
The carriages began to move out and Caroline gripped his hand tight as the roar of the crowd reached their ears. Carriages moved forward ahead of them, making their way down through the arches and out into the area set up for the parade. One by one they disappeared until it was their turn – the last carriage – and Stefan and Caroline greeted them with smiles, entangled hands held high, all the while Stefan wishing he could kill every last one of them.
They didn't deserve this.
It wasn't until later that night that Stefan broke. Once the parade was over and done with, once the smarmy President Mikaelson had given his speech and they'd been taken back to their accommodations for a banquet large enough to feed half of District 12 (large enough to make him sick) Stefan stewed. The clock – a fancy digital one the likes of which he'd never seen – ticked over to eleven, then twelve, then one and Stefan burned up inside.
Finally he rose from the fancy bed he'd been given and made his way out into the hall, to the elevator, pressing the roof button as he went. He wasn't going to throw himself off it, but he needed somewhere to go. Somewhere he could scream as loud as he wanted and there'd be no one there to hear him, no one to judge him.
The door flew open and he stepped out into the cool night air, pausing for only a minute before turning around and punching the wall behind him. There was the audible sound of his knuckles cracking and he could feel warm blood spilling over his skin.
He was about to curse out loud when he felt more than heard a presence behind him, a breath close enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he spun around, heart hammering in his chest as his green orbs met blue.
"Hello ripper."
A/N: So...that took a while, sorry haha. I bet the Kennett fans have deserted me by the time I get to Curve Balls ahah :| Anywho...
So many new readers! *waves* HI! :D
And god damn it Di! Why must you be anon? I always want to reply to your reviews haha and you too Katerina! 0.0 *ugly sobbing*
And calm down the lot of you, we all know I'm only capable of mildly dubious endings and nowhere near the scale of sad.