Chapter Thirty-Nine.

Epilogue.

Carys Lavell, 16 years old;
District Ten Female – Victor of Forever Neverland.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Capitol; District folk watching from One through to Twelve, I am so absolutely proud to welcome to the stage…" Oh god, here we go. Here we go, here we go, here we go. "…Carys Lavell! Victor of the Twenty-Eighth Hunger Games!"

Carys wanted to be sick.

But more than that, she just wanted to go home.

She hated the pageantry so very much – that had not changed.

In a sunset orange dress, hair delicately curled to bounce on her shoulders, Carys walked onto the stage from behind the red curtain and waved tentatively to the cameras. Her mentor Cynara had done her best to prepare her for this part – that it would be tough, so soon after the Arena, to see what had transpired. Carys did not want to be here. Not in the slightest

Though she wore a gracious smile, nothing too extravagant or un-Carys like, she felt her stomach swirling with nerves and anger at having to be forced to be here. It wasn't enough being in the Games and killing three teenagers, she now had to relive it all. She was not ungrateful for the fact that she had survived, she was just tired. So very, very tired.

She sat opposite Anastasia and sank into the velvet cushions of the armchair. Again, she wore that simple smile and just waited for Anastasia to begin. She'd never been a talker. Again, not much change in that regard.

"First things first, how is your shoulder?"

Luckily for her, her stylist wasn't stupid and hadn't put her in a strapless dress. It covered up the bandaging and the stitches and everything else that had gone into repairing the gaping wound that Neviya's spear had caused. It hurt, ever so much, no matter the pain-killers they pumped into her system, but even for Anastasia and more importantly the Capitolites watching from their screens at home, the very same people that cheered on through the deaths of twenty-three children, she refused to show how weak she felt.

"It's fine," she said. "Absolutely fine."

"You're a tough cookie, aren't you?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "We all went through a lot."

"You went through a lot, my dear," Anastasia placed a toxic hand on Carys' knee and she wanted to swat it away. But Carys was learning, and had learnt through experience, how to no longer be that girl anymore. How to keep the storm at bay. "You won the Games."

She shook her head. "We went through a lot. I might be the only one sat here, but that doesn't take away from those that lost their lives."

Anastasia's hand retreated and she placed it in her lap. It wasn't a rebellious notion, not at all. Twenty-three tributes had died and Carys knew sitting here, watching the audience look at her, that she was definitely not the candidate they wanted for a Victor. They'd rather Neviya, the embodiment of a champion, to be sat opposite Anastasia.

Well fuck them, Carys thought, grinning inwardly. They've got me instead.

"Shall we not beat around the bush then and get straight to it? I'm sure we'd all love to see your Games one final time!"

"Can't wait," Carys replied.

Anastasia was no fool. She stared at Carys with a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Carys wasn't an idiot either, though. She knew not to push it – she couldn't be that girl hitting dummies, or tugging at her crotch on the Chariot with frustration, or refusing to give Anastasia on their first encounter any sense of what she was thinking. But that did not mean she couldn't have a little bit of fun herself.

She'd earned the right.

They swept through Carys' reaping and showcased highlights from some of the more prominent characters in the Games. Sheridan walking to the stage with angry fists. Chancellor volunteering with enthusiasm and psychotic verve. Nikos surprisingly taking the place of a weedy looking boy from Three – something Carys, even to this day, still did not understand.

Her time in the Capitol was another whirl-wind and if there was one piece of advice Cynara had given Carys that she focused on, it was that she had to look as if she were watching, but she could lose herself to her thoughts. Because they would never leave her. The sooner she learnt to cope and deal with them, the better her life as a Victor would be.

"This is my favourite bit!" Anastasia squealed.

The cameras did an overshot of the Arena – everything from the tower, to the treetop village, to the cave, to the cottage that Carys had never come across. It was all there. Then it came back to focus in on the Cornucopia, a ring of tributes around it, and Carys couldn't help but feel the nausea circulate through her stomach.

Her stylist, again, knew Carys better than Carys would have liked to admit. Her dress had ruffles and pockets that she could ball her fists into and hide them away from the cameras. She did just that, the emotions flickering in her chest, as she bit her lip and watched and heard as the gong sounded.

Chancellor died, killed by the girl from Seven. Then Ponche – Neviya spearing him through the back.

It was the next death, however, so quick into the Games, that Carys did not want to see. All eyes were on her as Spelt tackled Maisley to the ground, Anastasia wearing the worst smile she'd ever seen, and Carys' heart froze.

It was an accident?!

She hadn't even considered it, but more importantly, Maisley hadn't said anything.

She had lost all distaste towards the girl the second she'd realised that maybe in her position, as the youngest and smallest tribute, she would have done the exact same. Carys had her anger that she'd been able to channel into something meaningful, Maisley had her lies.

But it still hurt Carys to watch as she killed Spelt on screen, knife into his neck, believing that Spelt had been trying to hurt Maisley. In that second, she knew she'd made up her mind to protect Maisley. And yet all along, it had been a ruse.

At that moment, Carys detached herself, sinking into her mind as the re-cap swept on by. Castor's death hurt to watch. That could have just as easily been me. If it had been, would Castor have been sitting in front of them all? She had no idea how to answer that question. Luck had simply played a huge part in her survival.

Carys' complete lack of control had become second-nature now to her. She accepted it. She'd tried so hard to control her pain and trauma through her rage and that had just been a silly, stubborn perspective on the way the world worked. She accepted that she had no real stake in what she did – if she could accept that, then it made it easier to deal with what she felt inside.

More tributes died. More and more and more.

Shual. Maisley. They hurt the most to re-watch.

Celestin. Neviya.

And then Carys – sinking into unconsciousness in the mud. She did not need to see these Games again, but as the screen faded to black and confetti rained down from the rafters above the stage, Carys was forced back into the mindset of the Carys lying in the grass, Neviya's dead body by her side, Celestin's head not too far from her elbow, and Carys felt the hot tears in the corners of her eyes.

"How emotional it must be," Anastasia said, spitting out a bit of pink confetti.

Carys let it swallow her up. She wanted to go home – she wanted to forget – she wanted to live her life in a way that would make herself feel better for what she'd done. She refused to be one of those Victors that fell apart because there were twenty-three coffins soon to be buried that would always be with her.

It would be wrong to allow herself to simply fall into a dark pit that perhaps Carys almost longed. And as Anastasia wrapped her in an embrace, she wished the stage to open up and for the pair of them to fall into that abyss.

"For heaven's sake, smile," Anastasia whispered in Carys' ear. "Act like you want to be here."

Act.

It had always been an act, in their eyes. And it always would be.

From this moment on, no matter how she felt about it, to the Capitol she would be Carys Lavell, the Victor.

Not Carys Lavell, normal girl from Ten.

It was a change she would do her best to accept, because it was a change she knew so many others who were dead had wished for. She squeezed Anastasia back but couldn't help herself, leaning in to whisper in her ear, finding her voice somewhere underneath the shroud that she'd created.

"You don't get to tell me what to do," Carys whispered. "Nice wig, by the way. I see that hasn't changed."

Regardless of what she'd gone through, Carys owed it to herself to still retain some of who she had once been. Even a little slither.

And when Anastasia unwrapped her arms from the embrace, pulling at her hairline, Carys did indeed smile for the cameras.

"There you go little lady," the man said, tipping his hat to Carys. "It's one of the last ones at the back. Nice pink little side-house. Can't miss it."

Carys thanked the man and when he left in a trail of dust, she looked out at the wide-open fields of Ten. She'd never been this far back – there'd never been any need to. As soon as she was left alone, the nerves suddenly came back and Carys almost wished she'd never asked the man for a lift in the first place.

But she found her courage, pieces of it that she was slowly starting to work through, and nodded determinedly to herself. The sky was baking hot, ripples of sunlight and heat in the air, the dry, cracked mud dusty as she continued on her walk forwards.

Carys had a small piece of rope tied to her pocket. It had been Cynara's idea. Every-time she felt anything, anything that threatened Carys' resolve, she was to twirl the rope around. It was silly at first and Carys had thought the idea stupid, but Carys had slowly adjusted to the notion. It was a nice distraction – a small outlet for her nerves as she traversed the fields.

It had been a rollercoaster of feelings on her return to Ten and she still wasn't sure how she'd felt. In the crowd, she'd spotted her family, Hale with his smile and it had felt as if everything she'd done had been worth it. But then she'd also spotted him in the crowd – not just him, but them. And it had reminded her of the apple, Maisley's lie, her death, and everything else in the Games.

They no longer had power over her anymore. They did not. She was not a victim of her past but a source of strength for her future.

She just had to be.

When the small girl sat cross-legged in the mud, sifting through a heap of compost spotted her, Carys' fingers spiralled the piece of rope as frantically as she could to stop her heart from leaping out of her nervous mouth. The girl stood up on small little legs and with every step closer to Carys, she only saw Maisley in her stature, her height and the nervous smile on her lips as they finally stood face to face.

"Miss Lavell?"

It's okay, Carys. You're okay. It's all going to be okay.

She took a deep breath and as soon as she found her voice, a smile erupted onto her face and she couldn't help but bridge the gap between her and the little girl. She enveloped Jemima Armenteros in a hug and Shual's younger sister relaxed into the embrace, clinging to Carys' shirt.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Carys said through her tears.

In the blurry mist of her sadness and grief over Shual's death, she could see to the side a remarkable little building painted haphazardly in neon pink. The rest of the Armenteros' abode was humble – normal browns and greys and greens. Definitely Shual's stamp. But the pink was definitely Jemima's idea. She couldn't help but love the freedom in the ridiculously garish design.

"I miss him," Jemima said, pulling herself away from Carys. "But if I might say so, Miss Lavell—"

"—please, it's Carys."

"Carys," Jemima bit her lip and met the eyes of their newest Victor, teary eyes, eyes of a broken girl that was trying her best to manage this new life. "If I might say so, I'm very glad it's you that won, if it couldn't be him. I think Shual would have liked that."

Carys choked on her sob and nodded her head.

"I think so too."

It had been gruelling touring the country, parading herself around the place as Panem's newest idol, the face of the Hunger Games.

So many of the grey, ashen faces of the District folk despised her, it was clear to see. And in One, Four but especially Two, they looked at her as some anomaly. Something disgusting. A besmirch on their legacy.

Carys now found herself in District Six, the evening after her official showcase in front of the audience, and she clutched the invitation in nervous fingers. It had been difficult enough seeing the crowds of Six staring at her as she spoke scripted words about Celestin and Maisley's courage.

They'd seen it for themselves. Carys had murdered the little girl. And if she hadn't been standing here, there was a chance it could have been Celestin. Though Six most likely did not harbour much love for the elite that Maisley and Celestin were a part of, their winnings would have been useful for the poorest of them all.

The Peacekeepers flanking the door nodded at her arrival. She patted down the orange dress – the same from her first interview after the Games – and stepped into the luxurious lobby of the Corvac Manor. Carys had adjusted herself to spectacle and what the finest amongst them had, but it did not mean she liked it anymore than she had done before she herself had become rich.

It had taken adjusting to her new life. And she still wasn't quite there. She preferred the grit and the dirt of the fields of Ten, not the maids scuttering around and the fuss that they made over her dresses, and the delicious food, and everything that was now a part of her new title.

This house and the invitation in her hands just reminded her more of a life she would never really understand. Yet, as ever, she refused to give up. Because giving up made her journey getting here tarnished with ungratefulness.

Carys' legs wobbled ever so slightly as she was escorted into the Dining Hall. Again, it was a huge room, portraits lining both walls and a central table filled with dinnerware, silvers and golds and jewel tones in abundance.

It was the regal-looking man in front, head of the table, that caught Carys' eye straight away, and a hush rippled through the room.

"Carys Lavell, how grateful I am for your acceptance of my invitation tonight."

To the left, the Corvac family just stared at her. Or what was left of it. There was an empty seat between the sad looking woman – Maisley's mother – and the elder brother that looked at Carys with a raised eyebrow.

I don't belong here. I don't. I don't. Fear gripped her throat and she took a step back and collided with a maid who squealed in surprise. Carys choked out an apology and stared at Mayor Corvac, shaking her head side to side.

She was back in the Arena, Maisley with her broken leg, and Carys' knife… my knife… my…

"It's okay, Miss Lavell. It's a pleasure having you here."

A Peacekeeper escorted her to her seat and it was then that she noticed the family sat opposite her. The man and woman met her eye and nodded graciously, a broad-shouldered younger man sneering at her, much to Carys' immediate dislike. He reminds me of Nikos. But it was the girl with long blonde hair, a light blue dress and with eyes that stared into Carys, burrowing deep into her soul, that made Carys' hands immediately go to the rope tucked in a pocket in her dress.

"I thought we'd invite the Elan family over. They're old money, Carys," Mayor Corvac stated with a gratuitous gesture in the man and woman's direction. "Very dear friends of ours since Celestin and Maisley's tragic passing."

The girl staring at Carys snorted at that and all eyes landed on her disdainfully.

She ignored them and continued looking at Carys. Carys wished she would look anywhere else. Anywhere but in her direction.

As the courses were served, Carys went immediately for a goblet of posca, watery-wine with honey and herbs that immediately took some of the edge off. She sunk into its warm embrace but refused to have another glass when it was offered. Though she enjoyed the luscious feeling in her stomach, she would not waste away like some of the other Victors. Too much vice and she'd forget the fight she'd been through.

Carys, though terrified of facing her emotions and past, had become used to channelling them into her day-to-day life. They gave her a foundation.

When dinner came to an end and the families mingled, Carys headed for the open balcony that overlooked the nicer side of District Six. Glittering stars in the sky and a full-moon reminded her of the forest of the Arena, but as she rested her chin in her hands against the balcony, she tried to think of them as nothing but what they actually were. The Arena's stars and moon had been fake. These were the very real, very beautiful celestial beings.

"Carys."

She turned her head and jumped up, meeting the eyes of the girl that had not said a word since snorting at Mayor Corvac's introduction to her family. She couldn't escape now. Trapped against a leap that would mean certain death or a return to the horrific atmosphere inside the Dining Hall.

Carys tried to smile but knew it was fake and pointless so just met the girl's eyes and straightened her back, one hand in her pocket.

She couldn't help herself. Her voice travelling before her mind could focus. "You look like him."

The girl's shoulders relaxed at that and her lip seemed to wobble. Carys had never been good at the whole comforting thing and even now, after everything she'd seen and done, she found it hard enough comforting herself in the darkest of times.

She just watched Honora Elan go through a wave of emotions before she composed herself, straightening a crease in her blue dress and staring back at Carys.

"I don't blame you."

Carys was stunned by that. She hadn't killed Celestin, but just by being alive it meant that she had killed him in a weird, twisted sense. It was why the Hunger Games were so terrible. Because even though she'd actually only killed three tributes, by standing here opposite Honora, in a way she had killed all twenty-three.

Twenty-three ghosts she would have to live with forever.

"I'm sorry about what happened to him."

Honora sighed and again, whatever tension she had inside of her, building up and up and up in anticipation of meeting Carys face to face, fell to pieces immediately. Carys related to that sense of a tidal wave needing to either burst forth, or be smothered down. She'd live with it forever.

"It's not your fault. You survived. You did what any of us would have done."

"How can the Corvacs look at me and not care, when I did what I did to their daughter?"

Honora snorted again and shook her head, side to side, pain flaring in those blue eyes. "Because that's what people like that do. They may as well have been born in the Capitol. Maisley was his biggest investment and she failed. His emotional response at the Reaping might have been borne out of love, but he's had a long time to piece together his appearance again. Maisley's death is more a stain than anything else."

Carys felt Honora's anger and together, they united in it.

"I miss her," Carys said. "And I miss Celestin."

"You didn't know him like I did," Honora said, laughing. "If you'd have known him before, you wouldn't have liked him."

"Try me."

And so, Honora relayed stories of a boy from Six that would rather his bed to a conversation, would rather sleep to the idea of having to actually get up, eat, shower and live.

Carys couldn't quite believe it, but she revelled in it all the same.

Hooked to every word, Maisley and Celestin were alive once more. Through Carys, through Honora, their memories would not be forgotten.

She felt Hale's hand in hers and the two Lavell children stood in the fields of Ten, facing the row of dummies, silly straw beings that looked back at Carys and reminded her too much of what she had once been.

"It's okay," Hale said, comfortingly. "You can do this."

Carys was reminded of the girl from before the fields and the boys had led her willingly to what she'd believed had been a gathering of friends. She remembered the innocent Carys that had smiled and laughed and loved. And then she remembered the girl broken and bitter and stubborn to her hatred. One of the dummies was still missing a head and she shivered at the memory of what that version of Carys had been like.

She'd tried to believe she was stubborn to a fault, but underneath it all, she blamed herself for being so weak as to allow people to hurt her. But now, standing in front of the dummies, she was not to blame for anything bad that had happened to her. She was just a normal girl, though a Victor now, who was dealing with her feelings and trying her best to survive through them.

The dummies were a token of a Carys that no longer existed.

Hale squeezed her hand again and Carys pulled him in close, ruffling his hair with a laugh. A tear rolled down her nose as she struck the match, and she didn't even look back as the dummies went up in flames, the two Lavell children heading back to their new life, their new home, their new future.

Carys was nothing special – she never had been. And though there were still parts of her that shook in anger at the face of a bad memory, or the face of someone that reminded her of the injustice this world ravished in, she was learning.

That was all she could do.

Step by step, Carys would get there. Anger, sadness, bitterness, happiness, whatever it was. Carys could do it. For all twenty-three of her ghosts, Carys would survive and live her life in the best way that she could.

Bit by bit, that was what she told herself. Today was today. Let's make it through today, and then we can worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow was tomorrow.

And her future was hers.

Because she was a survivor.

She always had been.

And that ladies and gents, is a wrap on Forever Neverland!

It's been a wild ride. Whether you liked or didn't like my format for the Games, I have my opinion on some of those opinions, but for the most part I can see how much people have really fell for this story and I can say from the bottom of my heart how much it has meant to me. I've worked my socks off for this and I can genuinely say I truly believe it is my best SYOT and these are the best tributes I've worked with. Some were easier than others, and below you'll see a little message about each. They're honest messages – please don't take offence, but that's just the way it goes.

From Chancellor to Damon, from Linnea to Altia, this cast has been a wild ride. I've loved every second of it.

24th: Chancellor Darrian, D1M – So, no one really liked him, but I'm glad some saw him just for the entertaining character he was. I had fun writing him and could have gone down the route of him being a stereotypical antagonist until some Career blow-up midway through the Games. But I couldn't. The irony of him dying first was too good a developmental point for other tributes to ignore. His death was a catalyst for a lot that went on.

23rd: Ponche Garland, D11M – This is a very honest account of my perspective on tributes, and Ponche was difficult to write, if I'm truthful. I don't have anything against tributes that fall to the shadows but in an alliance made up of such character, he didn't have it in him to make it far.

22nd: Spelt Brassard, D9M – I can say it now but UGH GUYS? Why did you not like him?! I was a huge Spelt fan, I found him relatable and very endearing with his introverted attitude but also his ability to just smile and enjoy his little slice of life. But he had no plots for him in my plan for the Games, so yeah he couldn't make it far.

21st: Armina Rione, D8F – This one hurt but I never connected with Armina until her final Capitol POV during the interviews, and by that point I knew I wanted her to go for Albie's development. She was another difficult one to pinpoint for me, but the route I took her down really caught me up and I appreciated what she provided.

20th: Teak Underwood, D5M – To me, as he allied with Bryce and Sinta, he was just a version of them that didn't stand out as much. That's my writing so it's nothing personal, but he just didn't have anywhere to go in the Games.

19th: Altia Wright, D12F – Paired with Ponche, she was one of the hardest tributes to write for. I enjoyed intertwining her backstory with Damon which made it slightly easier to get into her mindset but again, in such a large alliance, there was no need for her to survive past the bloodbath. There were just more plot points for others.

18th: Castor Velboa, D8M – His first pre-Reaping POV was very hard for me to get into his character. At that point, I didn't see much hope for him. But ugh I came to love him so much in the Capitol and I didn't originally have him dying the first death outside the bloodbath, but I think it was just needed for Maisley and Carys further down the line. He was fun!

17th: Damon Millers, D12M – Such a sweet tribute to write! He was a personal favourite of mine to write, but from a developmental viewpoint, I didn't have much plans for him in the Arena. He was a perfect catalyst for Henley and Iva to develop that little bit more. Still, I never understood why people said he was a backstory-heavy tribute, because in my opinion his personality was always shining through with every action he took and word he said.

16th: Shual Armenteros, D10M – One of my favourite pre-reaping POVs to write. I enjoyed his logical, realistic mindset into the Games. Maybe it wasn't the most stand-out of personalities to have but I don't need every tribute to try and grab the spotlight. With Albie's development kicking off, though, his death was needed for her to progress further. He was a lot of fun to write, though!

15th: Bryce Hayfield, D7M – I ordered the tributes from favourite to write to least favourite, and he was second! Honestly – I kind of regret killing him as soon as I did, but also it just meant Sinta could shine a little bit more on her own in her newfound way. I saw myself a lot in him tbh and yeah that just made him all the more compelling to write about.

14th: Linnea Halvard, D1F – I'll be honest, Linnea suffered from like the 8-month gap between her first POV, and corona hitting us and me suddenly updating at the speed of light. Even though I went back and read her form, she became tricky, but that's my fault for the gap. I enjoyed what she brought definitely, but her death was needed anyway to spice up the Career dynamic. Glad loads of the readers enjoyed her tho!

13th: Iva Giorgi, D9F – I loved Iva in her pre-reaping chapter and the Capitol. Honestly a favourite. And then the Games hit and she took a step back for me. Sometimes that just happens, tho. I'm glad she finally found a friend in Damon and I enjoyed her little bit of development, but the fact that from a writer's perspective she sunk into the background a bit, just meant she had to go.

12th: Nikos Rioux, D3M – Everyone disliked you but I'm not everyone which is why you made it to the halfway point. I really just enjoyed writing your POVs, and as a writer, I want to write POVs that I enjoy, which is why you came 12th. I'm not a fan of volunteers from non-Career Districts but I tried to show enough development in his mindset to bring out this sense of regret in him. He was fun!

11th: Roarke Lumally, D2M – A crowd favourite and I can see why. I had a lot of fun with him, but again a bit like Iva and some others, I preferred him before the Games. I wanted to show a bit more strength, however, and I like the development he went through during his time in the Arena. For Neviya, Albie and Destan's survival however, I needed him to go.

10th: Britta Somerset, D4F – She won the poll for a reason and I distinctly remember her pre-reaping POV being my favourite to write. I just had so much fun with it. Maybe she wasn't adapting so well to the Arena, but I think she was just in her own Britta way. It was between her and Neviya to make it the furthest out of their little group but Neviya to me always just had that edge that I enjoyed taking a bit longer. But honestly, loved Britta. So much.

9th: Henley Pereira, D5F – I can tell the truth now but she was an original bloodbath lmao. I absolutely loved her first POV back in Five, but as other tributes began to shine more in the Capitol, she didn't and I thought about offing her quite quickly. But then I wrote her third POV in the Capitol and I realised again what I enjoyed so much about her character. Plus, her turning healer into killer was a fun little route for her character to go down. Her story wrapped up pretty nicely once Iva was dead, however, so there was nowhere else left for her to go.

8th: Maisley Corvac, D6F – I have no idea if her submitter is even still around but ugh I loved Maisley, and I think so many of the readers did too. It was refreshing to write a tribute that was aware of her younger age but used it to her advantage and twisted it into something that actually worked in her favour. She didn't read as stereotypically young and that was what I found so interesting about her character. Not many liked her in her first POV back in Six, but they grew to love her, and I was happy to see that.

7th: Sinta Montero, D7F – Such a positive person and the second I saw how positive she was, I knew that I would twist that around and turn her into someone else. It wasn't initially planned that she would kill Chancellor. It was actually going to be Sheridan. But the development just worked so well for her character and at the end of everything, she just wanted peace from what she had turned into. Miss her!

6th: Albie Mathison, D3F – A surprise for me as a writer. I knew where I wanted her development to start off, but didn't intend for her to go this far if I'm honest. But she literally wrote herself and plot-wise, she was essential to this story, so I'm glad I took her as far as I did. Taking down two Careers as well was no easy feat and I loved being able to bring out her emotions but still keep true to her character. Another fun one to write.

5th: Destan Moreau, D4M – Right before the Career fight, he was down to die instead of Britta. But I just couldn't because I adored the way he filled the antagonist's role without actually being that capable of an antagonist. He just felt so real to me and yeah he wasn't likeable but he knew that and I think being able to peel back all these layers to his character just exposed him for what he was. He was the villain of this story but not a typical villain, and I think that's why I took him further than I originally planned.

4th: Sheridan Sannah, D11F – I was nervous coming to her first POV because she was a very complex character but I fell in love like instantly. She was a crowd favourite as well. I know some didn't see her going that far over others who had more out-there development, but sometimes you don't need to go down that route. Sometimes, and with Sheridan she was the clear case for me, you can go through shit but still do your best to stay true to who you are. No one ever said that about Neviya which I found funny, because to me both Sheridan and Neviya still had glimpses of who they have always been, but had just adapted to the Games in a better way. She was the original Victor, back when it was the first draft of placings like 5,607 drafts ago. A great, great tribute!

3rd: Celestin Elan, D6M – A favourite of mine right from the very beginning. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going to take him and originally he didn't make it this far, but the change on his attitude whilst still showing glimpses of who he has always been is exactly the reason why I did take him this far. Some said in their reviews he did a lot more than say Carys or Neviya, but I didn't see it. That's kind of why he didn't win because in terms of key events, he hadn't been exposed to much. A lot of his development was more internal which was so much fun to write, however. Loved him!

2nd: Neviya Vavrick, D2F – Another favourite of mine. Not from the beginning, if I'm honest. I preferred Roarke and Britta. But she started to stand out to me the second I realised she had the best parts of Britta and then the best parts of someone fit for the Games. It was fun to bring about that focus in her mindset in the Games and yes maybe she was the most predictable win as we narrowed down the tributes, but I see nothing wrong with predictability. I want someone to earn their victory and she was so close. It was honestly such a toss up between her and Carys. I hadn't made my mind up until I actually wrote the chapter.

1st: Carys Lavell, D10F – Which brings us to our Victor! It's funny because Carys wasn't even originally in this story. But Nate pulled through with her. I have no idea what you mean by her being such a shitty form because if you know the types of tributes I like, Carys fit that bill. So many people disliked her but I don't care. Along with Britta, her pre-reaping POV was one of my top favourites to write because I saw through that anger and understood why she was the person she was. She retained a lot of her character as she went through development but also she went through a lot action wise too! Spelt/Castor/Maisley and the apples/killing Maisley/Celestin/like… yeah there was a lot and it brought out so much that was integral to her character, but also to warrant why she won this entire thing. Such a fantastic tribute and I'm so glad she came out in the end as the winner! Congrats Nate and Carys!

Thanks for all the support my lovelies. It would be great to hear one final time from anyone that submitted to this story, but you do you guys. I'm grateful for these tributes, you reading, your reviews, your everything. It's been fantastic.

See you with Stoneheart in the not so distant future. Bye for now!