Day 10:

Alexander Snow, 16
Son of President Sterling Snow

Alexander was up bright and early today. So much so, that even Coriolanus was still asleep.

Even though he could very easily turn around and go back to bed, he just couldn't sleep. All he could do was lie there, thinking up amazing story ideas, complete with intricate plots and some really badass characters. But when it came to writing everything down, his mind went blank. The pen in his hand did nothing and the pages remained empty.

So he turned on the TV, hoping to get some inspiration from the Games. Maybe watching the final contenders battle it out would help.

Despite the lightness of the sky outside his family's mansion, the arena was still dark and all the tributes were fast asleep. Elise inside a sleeping bag she had taken from the Cornucopia. Twill and Clair pressed up back-to-back against each other. Weller curled up in a tight little ball and using his bag as a pillow, shivering into the night.

It appears the Gamemakers were letting them have a peaceful night, in wake of the inevitable confrontation that was approaching. One winner, three losers.

Damn. It often impressed Alexander how the people in charge could weave such stories about each tribute. As if they were characters in the story of the 9th Hunger Games.

There was Weller, one of the most dominant forces in the arena, but somehow never let his power get to his head. He didn't care who he had to go through to win. Yet, he too had been reduced to a lonely teenager, proof that killing everyone meant nothing unless you could kill the last person left alive. He was still kicking, but his fall from the top hadn't been very pretty and maybe luck was not on his side.

Luck seemed to have a strange relationship with Clair, the scrappy little street urchin from District 12, a district Alexander often failed to care about because it rarely produced any tributes worth talking about. Clair started out with nothing, and every single day was a battle for their survival. Somehow they found themself an ally, an ally willing to straight up shoot the other tributes for them. The partnership would have to break apart eventually but as Clair stirred a little next to Twill, they looked content. Maybe happy. Perhaps luck was apologizing for all the other bad hands it dealt them.

As for Twill, he had lost one ally but gained another. And some newfound bravery to go up against one of the biggest baddies of the arena in thirteen year-old Amelia Williams, which was not a sentence Alexander really expected to come to mind. That girl's reputation never really recovered from betraying her allies. Anyways, nobody seemed to expect a sugar baby from District 8 to make it this far, but Twill had definitely proved he was more than just a pretty face. And he wasn't going to use his looks to get his way; he was going to fight to earn his victory like everyone else.

Then there was Elise. Her tricks against her district partner and forcing him to drop his guard before she got him was one of the most highly talked about moments, right after Amelia's betrayals and Twill shooting Amelia. Elise was in a good position and was still going strong despite having nobody on her side. Perhaps she could get the other tributes to underestimate her again and by the time they saw through her, it would be too late. Unlike the others, she had family back home to get to. She was the only one with something to lose.

Four kids, all with good reasons to win. Alexander wondered, if he was the one writing this story, who would he choose as his Victor? Would it be an easy decision? A tough one? Perhaps he'd have already killed them all off by now. Or maybe he'd replace someone with another character way easier to get rid of? Huh, now he was in a writing mood all of a sudden. Funny.

Could he try writing his own Hunger Games someday? Juggling 24 characters sounded like a tricky task at first, but he was beyond certain he was up for it. Who knew, it could be really fun! And then he could mail it off to the Gamemakers and they could potentially take inspiration for a future arena from his story. They would have to credit him, of course. Put his name on a sign somewhere or something.

Alexander just curled up on the couch. Good thing he had a notebook with him to write down any ideas that sprung to mind. Certainly, they were freely flowing in his head and he had to catch them in time before they were suddenly gone.

Upstairs, he could hear his family's footsteps and creaks of their bed frames, as everyone gradually got up. He didn't mind the noises at first, until Coriolanus came jumping down the stairs and into the living room where Alexander was, tripping over a stool and a carpet in the process. The Avox who cleaned up this morning was probably gonna have a fit when he found out.

"I want to see! Move! I wanna see!"
"It's not even on yet."
"What?" Coriolanus's face fell. "When's the thing gonna start?"

"The finale," Alexander corrected him. "And I don't know."
"Awwwwwwww! I'm boooooored!"

Why did little brothers have to be the most annoying thing on the planet?

Weller was the first tribute awake. He just sat there rubbing his eyes and stretching. The sky gradually turned a lighter shade of blue as the other tributes rose. Elise pulled a loaf of bread from the Cornucopia and started ripping off chunks, chewing on it. Clair quietly scratched at the back of their head. Twill just wrapped his arms around his knees and sighed.

"What are they doing?" Coriolanus asked. "Why aren't they fighting? I wanna see a fight!"
"Can't you please be patient!?"
"I don't wanna! I wanna see the fighttttttttt!"

The rest of the Snow family was awake now. Alexander's parents had to leave, because the work of a President didn't stop even when the Games were about to end. Theodora and Zachariah planned to watch the finale with their friends. That meant Alexander was left at home with darling little Coriolanus for company.

Not. Fair.

As the tributes continued with their daily morning tasks, there was suddenly a loud booming noise in the sky, that was replaced by trumpets. Clair covered their ears. Weller glanced up and narrowed his eyes. Even Coriolanus jumped.

"TRIBUTES!" The Head Gamemaker Taurus Blackman was talking now. "IN THREE MINUTES YOU WILL BE LEAD TO THE DESTINATION OF YOUR FINAL BATTLE. YOU MUST LEAVE EVERYTHING BEHIND; TAKE WITH YOU ONLY THE CLOTHING ON YOUR BACK AND ONE WEAPON. ONE. FAILURE TO FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS AND THE WAY TO YOUR DESTINATION IN TIME WILL RESULT IN FATAL CONSEQUENCES. MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOUR."

Ah. It was a way of ensuring that Elise, who had been living out of the Cornucopia the entire time, and Twill, who had a gun on him, had no upper hand. Coriolanus muttered something about the announcement being boring but Alexander was kind of intrigued. The tributes quickly scrambled to find what weapons they wanted to use.

Clair didn't seem to know what weapon they wanted before they decided on a sword that they swung around awkwardly. Twill chose the spear he had recently been sponsored. Then he discreetly put a hand behind his back, careful to avoid the cameras picking it up. He then looked over at Clair, who gave him an awkward shrug as a sign that they were prepared for what would come next.

Weller simply dumped all of his supplies onto the ground without a care. He mulled his rather meagre selection of weapons for a few seconds before deciding to go with his late ally's trusty axe. After all, his shiv was gone. He gave the axe a few practice swings, and he was ready.

Elise started dumping stuff out of the Cornucopia, searching for the weapon she wanted to use. She picked up the pan she was sponsored at one point, turned it a few directions, then just shook her head. Eventually, she chose a sabre lying at the back of the horn, although with some hesitation. She had never used one before. She just stared at her distorted reflection in the blade.

But the trumpets blasted through the arena again. The end was about to begin.

As if right on cue, the clouds began to drift down to the tributes. They all hovered right above the ground, as if beckoning for a rider. Elise and Weller stepped onto their clouds right away, and Twill helped Clair onto the cloud they were sharing. Before he could step on, a loud hum suddenly echoed out as a bright blue force field came flying down between the two allies, throwing Twill back. The trumpets were replaced with ominous drums, the echo of their beats sounding awfully familiar to the cannons.

Twill grasped at his throat and began to choke. The gun dropped from his fingers and skidded past his feet. Over the edge and it was gone. Clair screamed, slamming their fists against the force field. It wouldn't budge. They couldn't break through. As Twill thrashed about, all of his air being drained away, Clair began to sob as they continued to bang their fists on the force field to the point where it looked like their knuckles were about to bleed. "No! NO! TWILL!"

Coriolanus sneered. "What's he doing? He's being stupid!"
Alexander shook his head. "He's not being stupid. He's being punished. For trying to bring more than one weapon with him. He didn't let go of the gun."

And then the fighters were off, being carried up into the air, further than they had ever been before. Twill had been left behind.

He was lying on his back now, still weakly wrapping his hands around his neck. Slowly, he stopped writhing around and just lay there, staring vacantly up into the sky. Clair was desperately clinging onto the cloud, staring down at the body of their ally. What more could they do? They sniffed and wiped some of the tears from their face. Their knuckles were red as they just sobbed into their hands.

BOOM!

The cannon fired. Weller and Elise both froze and shock.

Four had just become three. There was one less competitor to face.

"Are they gonna die?" Alexander blurted out, without even realizing he was actually talking. "From being that high? Like, what with the air or something-"
"Who cares!" Coriolanus was whining again. "I'm bored. I wanna see them fight!"
"I wanna see you shut up and just watch!"

Coriolanus folded his arms and pouted. "You're being mean. I'm gonna tell Dad."
"I dare you to, squirt."

The clouds continued to sail upwards, each tribute kept pretty far apart for each other. Alexander wondered if they all knew who was still remaining and who was gone. And how long it would take for the clouds to finish their journey. But eventually, the large platform in the sky became visible. It was beautifully crafted out of smooth marble, and had a giant chain underneath it, as if to keep it from floating away.

Once they were level with the platform, the clouds stopped moving and the tributes climbed off. They stood at the edges of the platform. Clair was shaking. Elise wiped her sweaty hands on her clothes. Weller licked his lips, sizing up the competition.

He went for Clair first.

Elise sprung into action at the exact same time, but practically skidded to a stop as Weller sprinted past her. He tackled Clair to the ground, the tribute from 12 a bit too stunned to properly fight back. They went sliding across the platform, Clair on their back and Weller on top of them.

For a moment, it looked like the two tributes would fall off. But they came to a quick stop, right at the very edge.

Clair gasped for air as Weller pressed the axe handle against their neck. Elise slowly stepped forward, her sabre raised in the air and primed to be sent straight through Weller's back. Weller just pressed harder, his knees digging into Clair's torso as they weakly tried to fight him off...

But it wouldn't be that simple for any of them. Alexander knew it. No way would the Gamemakers let the fight end so early!

With a sudden burst of upper strength, Clair's arm came flying outwards and they sent their sword slashing through Weller's left side. "This is for Twill!"

Weller briefly tensed up, enough so that Clair was able to push him of them. Weller collided with Elise, knocking the sabre from her grip. The cut Clair had given Weller was rather shallow and wouldn't be enough to kill him, but it certainly helped to slow him down a little.

As Clair stumbled to their feet, Weller and Elise were wrestling against each other. It would be much too easy for Weller to gain the upper hand. He was the strongest tribute left, a former child soldier up against a street urchin and a theatre kid. It seemed like the outcome was inevitable and the odds in Weller's favour. But Elise was managing to hold him off, long enough to keep Weller's axe blade away from striking her face. Clair picked up their sword.

"GO!" Coriolanus screamed. "Fight, fight, fight! Die, die, die!"

Elise kicked her knee up, sending it straight into Weller's left side. She quickly jerked her leg back, the top of her knee covered in a faint blood stain. Weller cringed in pain. He fist flew back, then came flying forward and smacked right into Elise's face.

The sound of the impact made Alexander's mouth drop open.

A dark string of blood trickled from Elise's nose down the side of her lips. She spit out some more blood, this time landing it on Weller's forehead. Elise reached her arm out, feeling around until the blade of her sabre ran along the tip of her finger. She ignored the small cut she had given herself and grabbed the weapon. Clair took a few steps forward, then an apprehensive step backwards, unsure of what Elise's plan was.

Weller wiped the blood from his face, just in time to see Elise throw the sabre as hard as she could. The blade smacked Weller right between the eyes. He stumbled backwards a bit. Elise quickly retrieved her sabre, ready to jump at Weller and achieve the killing blow.

But he was ready for her. Weller's axe came flying at Elise and she barely ducked in time. The blade smacked the top of her head, cutting off a few stray strands of her and giving Elise a nasty slash on the side of her forehead.

Both her and Weller's faces were covered in blood.

Coriolanus giggled. "Alex, look! Look at all the blood! It's so cool!"
"Mhm, sure." Alexander didn't see it. He thought it looked a bit gross.

With on tribute down, Weller could set his sights on Clair. He was ready for them too. Clair practically threw themself at Weller, only for him to reach down and grab their leg. Weller tossed Clair right over his shoulders, only with one arm. They hit the ground and both Snow brothers winced.

Elise curled up into a small ball, her hair flopping in front of her bloody face and obscuring it from the camera's view. She began to shiver. A few faint sobs could be hard. Was she genuinely that hurt? Or was she trying to pull her favourite trick again? It had been successful before. Would it work on Weller?

Sure enough, Weller stepped closer to her. He cocked his head sideways and frowned. "What are you doing!?"
Elise didn't answer him. She just sobbed harder.
Weller clearly wasn't one to brag or monologue; Elise's plan hadn't worked at all. He just wiped off his axe with his clothes, ready to chop through Elise and eliminate another tribute once and for all.

The axe blade went flying down towards her neck. Until her sabre blocked its path.

Elise pressed down harder. Weller did the same. The two weapons made a shrill noise as the blades clashed together...

Weller dropped the axe. It was the break Elise was looking for. She jumped up, her supposed crying having stopped almost immediately and replaced with a triumphant yell. And Elise rammed her sabre into Weller's chest as hard she could. Weller pushed her away, but the damage was done. The blow had been dealt.

On the ground, Clair had frozen up in shock, watching the fight go down. Their face was pale.

Weller coughed weakly as he struggled to pull the sabre from his chest. He yanked it free, a pained and desperate look on his face as he threw the weapon down. The strikes and cuts the other two tributes had given him were starting to add up. The boy from District 11 was doomed.

As he sank to his knees, coughing and gasping for air, Elise just quietly watched. She retrieved the discarded sabre and turned to Clair. They were standing up again, brandishing their sword at Elise. But Clair's hands were wobbling and they couldn't hold their sword straight.

BOOM! Weller's cannon fired.

"D-don't come near," Clair trembled. "I swear, I'll do i-it."
Elise checked her reflection in her sabre again, but the coating of blood prevented her from seeing anything. She blinked a few times as a tear rolled down her cheek, the remnants of her fake cry against Weller.

Clair found their voice. "I'm s-sorry. But...I want to win. I have to. It's for Twill."
"I had allies too," Elise told her, this time with hesitation. "I lost them, too."

Clair hesitated. Elise took one step towards them, and they took one step back. They didn't want to play offence, Alexander realized. They were too scared. Terrified. Poor Clair had been thrown through the wringer so far and it was clearly starting to wear them out.

Elise took another step, and another. Clair copied her motions, stepping away each time. Until they were back on the edge again, on the very verge of plummeting to their death. That seemed to snap them into action. When Elise stepped closer yet again, they didn't budge at all, as if daring her to come and tackle them over the side.

"Not another step!" Clair yelled. That made Elise stop in surprise. Alexander dug his nails into his seat.

Elise giggled nervously, her eyes darting from side to side before her gaze turned back to Clair. She spread out her arms. "Okay, then. Come and get me."

Clair did as they were told.

They rammed their right shoulder into Elise's chest, pushing her as hard as they could. Elise stumbled as she clumsily swung her sabre around, its blade slicing into Clair's back. Clair cringed in pain, giving their sword a swing of its own. But they missed and Elise jumped back, the sword only cutting off a small piece of fabric from the bottom of her clothes.

Elise pushed some of her hair out of her face, the strands sticking together in one bloody, sweaty clump. Clair glanced up at her sheepishly, now that their attempt to try and kill her didn't work. They held up the sword to block Elise's sabre, the two weapons clashing in the air. Every time one of them tried to go for another blow, the other tribute managed to block it in time. Blood trickled down Clair's back. Both tributes were injured, but neither one willing to give up the fight just yet. Coriolanus began to cheer, excited at all the violence that was going down.

Clair tried another swing, this time aiming for Elise's stomach. Elise jumped to block them. But at the very last second, Clair suddenly swung the sword upward without warning. The sword caught Elise's left arm, giving her a long nasty gash running down it. She cursed loudly, her arm hanging limp as she switched the sabre to just her right hand instead of using both.

For a moment, Alexander thought Elise was going to fake the dramatic hysterics again, the way she had with Weller. But instead, Elise took a sharp breath, then bent down and tackled Clair's legs. She dragged the tribute from District 12 to the ground, wrestling the sword from Clair's grasp. It went skidding past them and over the edge of the platform. It was gone and Clair's hands empty. Both tributes screamed, one in rage and the other in fear, as Elise pinned Clair against the ground.

Clair was defenceless.

Elise's plain white clothes, which were already dirty from ten days in the arena, had started turning a faint pink. She pressed the tip of her sword blade into Clair's neck, on the verge of practically shoving it straight through their throats.

"No. No!" Clair begged. They just stared up at Elise, their hands grabbing desperately at her arms, and tears streaming downs the sides of their face and mixing in with their sweat. "Please don't kill me! Please! Please..."

Elise pushed down on the sabre blade and Clair quickly trailed off. Now Elise was crying. but these tears were real. They had to be. She hiccuped and coughed, with no control over either sound. But she didn't move. Nor did she let her sabre blade falter. She wasn't going to give this up at all.

"I'm sorry," Elise finally said, her words barely picked up by the cameras. "I really am."
"No, I don't want to die..." Clair sniffed. "Please don't kill me..."

"My father needs me. I need to go home."

In one simple movement, Elise tossed the sabre blade aside. Clair's throat had been completely torn open in a deep red mess. Their eyes widened, losing focus of Elise and they made a few strained choking noises. The noises stopped without warning. One second, Clair was grasping at survival and they next they lay there motionless.

The cannon fired.

Elise just stood silently over Clair's body. Coriolanus stopped cheering. Alexander leaned forward in his chair, his notebook tumbling off his lap and onto the carpet.

The trumpets came blaring, playing a joyful and triumphant tune. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Victor of the 9th Hunger Games, Elise Starbright of District 1!"

As the announcement declared her as the Victor, Elise let out a sigh of relief and pumped her fist into the air. Her tears had stopped, but they could still be seen flowing down her cheeks over mounds of dried blood. She was smiling, though. Happy. Happy to have won. Happy to be a Victor.

And what a battle it had been for her to earn that title.

Coriolanus, now that all the fighting was done, has instantly lost interest and skipped off to go do something else. But Alexander stayed, watching as the hovercraft slowly drifted into view and dropped down a ladder. As Elise stepped onto it, a claw protruded to carefully pick up the two corpses left behind.

Surely, Elise would have an amazing story to tell everyone in District 1. The story of how she overcame the odds, twenty-three tributes, and the arena. How she fought for her life and earned it. There were plights, there were obstacles, but like any good actress, she didn't break her character.

In a way, it was inspiring.

Alexander decided that he wanted to write a story like that someday.

4th place: Twill Chintz, District 8. Asphyxiation.

I don't think any tribute in this story has ever crept up on me the way Twill did. I originally decided he was just gonna be a bottom 8 death who burned out after he lost his ally. Instead, he fought hard for his spot in the end, to the point where he straight up shot someone for it. Despite his past and his living conditions, Twill was sure all determined as hell. He truly was more than just a pretty sugar baby, he was a contender through, and through. Thank you so much for the wonderful lad, Silver. RIP, bud.

3rd place: Weller Worthen, District 11. Stabbed in the chest by Elise.

As the only tribute left who had less difficulty killing the others, Weller kinda sorta became the default villain. I always saw him as more of a tortured soul. He had a rough life and now the Capitol won't ever let him rest in peace. Tributes who have killed before are always very interesting, especially when it wasn't a choice they made for themselves. He was a great use of this story's early worldbuilding and the first submission I ever received for TMH. Thank you so much for him, santiago. May he finally catch a break.

2nd place: Clair Ivory, District 12. Throat slit open by Elise.

Clair had so much potential as this story's Victor that I actually went between them, Twill, and Elise for the longest time. I want Clair to win. Clair had a story and a drive. They were an underdog. They could be going from zero to hero and turning their luck around and finally making a name for themself after being forgotten for so long. Those reasons made them such a perfect Victor in my mind (yes, they'd be an NB Victor too, but I don't think it's fair to just reduce Clair down to just their identity when their character has way more aspects to them than that.)

The one thing that doomed Clair: submitter absence. I had heard nothing from their submitter since I got their form. That was really the only nail in the coffin and one of the biggest factors in my final decision. Clair really grew on me as I wrote TMH, in ways I probably didn't expect them to at first. And I suppose a cruel twist of fate puts them at second, just short of the victory that would take them out of the shadows forever. Its-suzuka, if you are reading this, thank you so much for Clair. They were amazing.

VICTOR: Elise Starbright, District 1.

Normally, I rarely change my mind on who I want my Victor to be. By the time I start writing training, I have a good idea and can choose between a few tributes. I did not start considering Elise up until the Games when I realized she had a great story. She was part of the early Careers alliance, despite being the oddball in her trio. She had her feud with Stravos, which started with him outsmarting her and ended when she outsmarted him. She was able to keep her head up despite living by herself in a very lonely arena. She knew when to get into character and act for the cameras.
I think, at the end of it all, I'm satisfied with her as my Victor. I'm happy with her as my winner, despite my constant indecision. And I'm glad that despite all the setbacks she had, she gets to end her performance on a high note with an encore. Thank you for her LiveFreeOrDie, and congrats of your and Elise's victory!

There you have it. This chapter is already very long, so just bear with me here XD I swear, I am saving all the sentimental mushy crap for the very last chapter.

I'm just so happy to finally make it to this point in the story. After two years and two months, Too Much Heaven has finally had its Victor announced. It's been a crazy journey thus far and of course, it's a journey that's not over yet.

Those of you who stuck around to be reading this note, I can't thank you enough. Your support and your words have been what kept me going. You all believed in me and my abilities when I struggled to believe in myself. I promised myself I would never abandon a SYOT and that I'd never let anyone down. And it's all paid off here, with the crowning of our Victor.

I truly mean it, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

So see you all in the next chapter, where we find ourselves, and out brand new Victor, back down on Earth...

-Vr