Chapter 20: A Delicate Angle
April, 151 ADD
There was a reason Venatrix preferred physical training to strategizing sessions and camera etiquette lessons, which, for some reason, her parents felt was needed months in advance. It tended to endlessly drag, Venatrix picking one route of potential conversation while both Oberon and Dagmara spent hours picking apart every twist or flaw in the idea.
Sure, it sucked and felt like a waste of time, but it wasn't usually painful.
Interview prep, her mother had called it. Venatrix's angle had been pretty much set in stone for years; obviously, she intended to play off the fact that her parents had inspired her to volunteer in hopes of following their footsteps to Victory. Wrap it up nicely with pretty little comments about her gratefulness to the Capitol for providing her with the opportunity, how much she "can't wait!" to join the rest of them, and boom. Flawless.
Except Bellara had already used that angle.
"Honey. They're going to ask you about her."
As soon as they reached sixteen, the Academy started drilling basic camera etiquette into each trainee almost as hard as they drilled weapons and endurance and strength, etc. so future tributes would know how to handle themselves once they got to the Capitol. But talking about Bell on live television? Venatrix balked at the thought. They don't deserve to hear about her anymore. Not my feelings, or how much I miss her, because no shit, I miss her. They've already taken her life, what more do they need?
"Venatrix." Dagmara's tone was gentle, apologetic. "You will need to answer, okay? They will ask insensitive and horrible questions, and you will have to answer them."
Venatrix could sense the exhaustion in her mother's posture at the thought, her father's unusual silence on the matter. This is what you need to do to survive, Dagmara's expression said. They'd taken one of the private classrooms for the session; now Venatrix understood why.
A vague memory resurfaced to the forefront of her mind, a television screen blurred by grief far too soon after Bell's death had ripped the Pykes open from afar. Someone had dragged her parents onstage in the midst of their shock-tinged mourning, their unfiltered expressions the last thing Venatrix had needed to confirm the dread. "Fifth place! You two must be so proud," the interviewer had trilled. She couldn't remember if they'd even gotten through any of the questions before Oberon had walked off, Callithyia coming to the rescue to take Dagmara's place.
Forcing the distracting thoughts away, Venatrix focused on her parents and their current expectations. "Okay," she said quietly, and Dagmara began, reading off the list of questions from the clipboard in her hands.
Each one made her wince; she could tell it hurt Dagmara to put her through this, let alone put herself in the mindset of the interviewer and their inevitable tactlessness. But she was right, it needed to be done. Venatrix didn't doubt that both her parents would be subject to similar treatment while she was in the arena; mentors were often called onscreen to speak about their tribute's performance and keep the crowd interest high. Venatrix allowed the words to mindlessly slip through her ears, investing only enough thought to answer the prompts without any "inappropriate" emotional reactions. It felt like hours before she could respond in her designated Capitol persona: the confident, honor-driven Career.
Playing into their hands tasted like betrayal. Venatrix buried the thought; her parents wouldn't lead her astray here, not with this.
"Don't forget to talk about how you're going to kill both Elevens," her father tacked on after she delivered an incriminatingly heartfelt line about fighting in Bellara's memory.
Dagmara fixed her husband with a look.
"What?" Oberon shrugged from where he stood leaning against the wall, arms folded. "Everybody loves a good revenge story." The faux-casualness in which he spoke couldn't hide the bite to his words.
Dagmara sighed, but Venatrix nodded. That's what we promised Jezephel, wasn't it? she thought. Oberon returned her agreement with a half-smile, half-grimace that let her know the subject was far from over. What we promised Bell.
"You know these Gamemakers," he said, more to Dagmara than her. "Skill isn't everything, not anymore."
Venatrix scowled, scratching at a scar in the wood of the undersized school desk in front of her. "Have to be lucky," she said bitterly, but Oberon shook his head.
"No, luck is out of fashion," he insisted, striding over to lean on the empty chair he was too restless to sit in. "They control the luck, and there's only so much they'll let one tribute have if they want to keep their jobs, and I reckon this new Head does."
Seemingly reluctantly, Dagmara picked up his meaning. "You need a story. And you have one."
"It's not a story, it's our life," Venatrix protested, her voice rising ever-so-slightly.
"It is to them," Oberon cut her off sharply. "How you choose to play is another factor that you control. And the more control you have, the better, got it?"
It felt dirty, wrong. Reducing Bellara's death to a strategy… Venatrix might've comforted herself with the thought that Bell would probably want her to do what she could to get out alive, but Venatrix honestly didn't know if her little sister would've understood. Hell, she probably hadn't understood what she'd gotten herself into until it was far too late.
Venatrix wasn't quite sure how to toe the line between honoring Bell's memory and exploiting her death, and the longer she thought about it, the more nauseous she felt.
Her father's irritated sigh brought her back to the present. "Whatever you're thinking, snap out of it."
"What," she said crossly.
"Look, Trixie. I get that you don't want to, none of us want to, believe me." He pinched the bridge of his nose, his expression softening. "But we don't have the luxury of want right now. This is how we get you out, okay?"
"Sure. Whatever."
"Venatrix—"
"I know what to say, alright? We just went over it." She folded her arms, staring straight ahead at the space between her parents. A stupid little Academy poster decorated the wall behind them, her own confident grin staring back at her along with Percy's determined face. "Can we go back to real training now?" The two of them were due for a blind session this afternoon.
Oberon scratched at his beard. "About that…"
Ugh, what now? Venatrix's seething hiss spoke for her, and her parents exchanged glances.
Dagmara folded her hands on her lap. "We need to talk to you about Percy."
"Why?" Venatrix interjected stiffly. "Percy and I already talked about everyth—"
Oberon cut her off. "After the Selection Tournament, you said. If it gets down to you two in the end." Venatrix nodded. "But that was months ago."
"And?"
"You need to be prepared for the possibility that you will end up killing him." He looked her in the eye. "Are you?"
Venatrix wavered long enough that there was no point in lying anymore. "No."
"I told you." Dagmara, ever the pragmatist, shot her husband a knowing look as he raised his hands in mock-surrender. Venatrix huffed incredulously, half-wondering what else they uttered behind her back. "It's not something you can really be ready for," Dagmara continued, her tone sobering with the weight of her own experience. "I was by no means prepared to kill Ruiz, and yet I did anyway."
Hesitant to pry, Venatrix chewed on the inside of her cheek. "Do you regret it?" she asked eventually.
"I regret letting him suffer as long as I did, but that's besides the point." Dagmara chose her words deliberately, her tone putting an end to the subject. Though her mother didn't acknowledge it, Venatrix didn't miss the light brush of Oberon's fingers against his wife's shoulder, discrete as the gesture may be. Clearly, the death of her mother's cousin has and always will be a point of delicacy; the thought only made Venatrix more apprehensive about her own path ahead of her.
She had no idea how she'd react to watching Percy die, let alone killing him herself. I can't.
But if it came down to them, she'd have to. It wasn't news. Fucking hell. She let out a breath, shakier than she intended. She'd already gotten a taste of life without Percy, and it was nothing short of bleak.
Dagmara sighed, her eyes tracing over Venatrix's face. "I know it's hard to stop thinking of him as a friend, but—"
"I'm not killing him," Venatrix interrupted. "Not unless it comes down to us, I made a promise."
"Honey, promises like that don't last in the arena." Her father's tone was on the edge of patronizing.
Venatrix only wrinkled her nose in disgust, leaning away from him in her chair. How can they ask me to betray him? How?
"Trixie, come on."
I won't. "I would rather die."
The sudden slam of Oberon's fist on the desk made her flinch, eyes round. "You don't have permission to die!"
"Don't you talk to her like that," Dagmara snapped, rising to her feet to cast a withering glare at her husband.
Instantly, he turned defensive, the aggression melding into sharp-voiced concern. "She can't just throw away her life for some two-timing rat," he hissed, gesturing to the poster of her and Percy. "I won't tolerate it."
Venatrix's eyes narrowed. "Percy's not—"
"She will be doing no such thing," Dagmara cut her off as if she hadn't spoken, her tone stiff with finality. "She's not fucking stupid."
"I never said—!"
God, shut up.
Sensing that nobody would be getting anywhere, Venatrix tuned them out as best she could, massaging her temples as she leaned forward onto her elbows. The closer they got to the Games, the more disagreements seemed to pop up between her parents, though Venatrix had a feeling she didn't have to look too hard to find the source of the hurt and bitterness.
It would be wrong, however, to say that February's execution hadn't left a sour taste in the air of the district, the event casting unnerving shadows whenever Venatrix thought about it, which she tried not to. More pressing matters, like last month's 'incident', continuously plagued her mind, contributing to the aura of disquiet both at the Academy and her family's household. Shit like this, especially surrounding the specifics of her training, tended to be a heated topic of debate between her parents — and an unavoidable one for her, caught between them as she was.
Well, technically this one wasn't unavoidable; she was supposed to meet with Percy in — she glanced at the clock over the door — five minutes ago.
The chair screeched against linoleum as she stood to leave, effectively cutting through the unnecessarily drawn-out argument. Silence followed her to the door, her parents' gazes prickling at the back of her neck. She paused at the doorframe. "You didn't have to pick him," Venatrix muttered, uncharacteristically quiet.
The sting hadn't yet left Oberon's words. "What was that?"
"I said," Venatrix spat, whirling around to glare indiscriminately at them both. "You didn't. Have. To pick him!"
Without bothering to wait for their stunned responses, Venatrix stormed off down the hall, cutting a forceful beeline towards the gym. Dagmara's scolding tone trailed after her, but Venatrix was too far away to know whether it was directed at her or her father, too riled up to care.
The door to the gymnasium sprang open at her presence; Venatrix recoiled in surprise, just missing the edge of it as Percy's startled face appeared before her. "Oh, I was just going to look for you." He frowned at her expression; the way he seemed to sense her bristling irritation felt almost normal. "What's wrong?"
"Doesn't matter." She brushed past him, not meeting his eyes.
Morwenna waited for them at the center of the sparring mats, surrounded by a group of kids around her age leisurely stretching out their limbs in preparation for the workout. Venatrix recognized them as Peacekeeper cadets — recent Academy graduates to boot. Even camera prep days never gave her sore muscles a break. Morwenna certainly didn't seem inclined to, judging by the stern grimace crossing her pointed features. "Finally decided to show up, have you?"
Venatrix clamped her jaw around something rude.
"I've been practicing blind shooting while we were waiting," Percy said in an attempt to be amiable. The evidence was scattered across the rings of the target boards that lined the walls; Percy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's almost easier against the moving targets since I can hear them."
"I know it's hard to stop thinking of him as a friend."
Venatrix only grunted in response.
After a couple laps around the gym, Morwenna had her grab a blindfold to join Percy on the mat, training sword in hand. Percy had exchanged his bow for a shortsword himself at his mentor's instruction. Around them, the cadets — four of them, though others sat out this round, waiting for their turn — circled like obedient hawks, various weapons at the ready. No doubt this would be more fun for them than for her; while Venatrix was no stranger to fighting blind, that didn't mean it was easy.
At Morwenna's command, the two partners slipped on their blindfolds. Venatrix sank into a fighting stance, relishing in the familiar burn spreading through her quads. The blindfolds did a decent job of blocking out the light, but Venatrix closed her eyes for good measure. No point in cheating when she could benefit from the practice. Percy's back pressed lightly against hers as they usually did for this exercise, lest they mistake each other for enemies.
Their real opponents prowled around the pair; the shuffling movements of the cadets allowed Venatrix to pinpoint their positions, their anticipated breaths making no effort at stealth. Venatrix kept her grip on her sword loose but firm, ready to snap into an action at the instructor's whistle.
The shrill signal cut through her ears, both her and Percy automatically tensing in the heartbeat before the cadets struck.
Feet lunged into the mat with a soft sigh; to her left, the cadet with a shortsword— Venatrix raised her own in a vertical parry to cover her front, unsure where the blow would land. The clash of their blades resonated through her arms; following the pull of his strike, Venatrix twisted her sword sharply, yanking her opponent's weapon from his grasp with a grunt. A quick set of footsteps, a sharp inhale before an attack— from behind, she felt Percy wince as he took a hit, and Venatrix ducked around another blow, the dull training blade of her enemy grazing her shoulder. Another sharp breath — the female cadet with the longsword, she assumed — and Venatrix raised her sword again. The hit came for her thigh, and Venatrix hissed in shock; her fault for parrying before her opponent even swung.
Gritting her teeth, Venatrix blocked the next hit, and the next, until the presence at her back unexpectedly disappeared; a sharp force struck her in the back of the knee, sending her face-first onto the mat in defeat.
With a groan, Venatrix ripped the blindfold from her eyes, only to find Percy in a similar position on his back with a spear pointed at his neck. "Sorry," he huffed, removing his own eye covering to shoot her an apologetic look.
"Up, you two. Again."
Wordlessly, Venatrix obeyed Morwenna's command, standing to her feet. She turned to help Percy up, but the cadet with the spear had beat her to it. Morwenna had them shuffle out, the longsword girl replaced by another with twin broadswords in her grip. "That'll be fun," Percy said sarcastically before his mentor snapped at them to put up their blindfolds.
With her eyesight removed, Venatrix again focused on the sounds reaching her ears, revealing the locations of her opponents. Percy squared his shoulders against hers, huffing a deep breath, and the whistle sounded again. This time, Venatrix moved first, snapping towards the broadsword cadet with a swift lunge. The girl grunted in surprise, parrying while Venatrix recovered into striking range, another blow headed for the cadet's shoulder. She dodged, and Venatrix responded with a quick kick in the only direction she could've gone. Her shoe made contact, and the sound of feet retreating on the mat reached her ears.
More quick footsteps announced another enemy, and Venatrix whirled around, blade already barreling point-first towards the newcomer. She'd caught them — him; shortsword cadet? — off-guard, but he managed to parry, his weapon knocking hers off course.
Taking a risk, Venatrix brought her sword back, arcing it over and around her head to bring down a powerful strike against his… Judging by the choked gasp, she'd caught him somewhere in the stomach. While she couldn't quite tell if she'd knocked her two opponents from the running, two more still roamed the mats, if Percy's quick, strained exhales were anything to go by.
Venatrix turned and— the opening of the gymnasium doors nearly threw her out of focus, the noise automatically drawing her attention.
Whatever. Venatrix took a half-second to re-orient herself to the shuffling harmony of the training mat, her partner now dancing in front of her, and beyond him… "Percy, duck!" Assuming he'd follow her instruction, Venatrix lunged towards his position, her sword cutting through the air and into the body of what she hoped was an enemy. The tone of his exhaled curse matched that of the cadet with the spear. Indeed, she'd nearly tripped over Percy in her lunge, but now she knew where he was, and he her.
Percy's knees cracked lightly as he rose from his crouch, and once again, they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, facing the direction of their last enemy head-on.
This one, another longsword-wielding cadet if Venatrix remembered correctly, didn't hesitate, his quickly-approaching gait causing Venatrix and Percy to tense, blades at the ready. Venatrix sprang forward to meet him, her sword sweeping downwards to deflect his blade, and, pivoting quickly on her heels, she followed through with a strike to where she assumed his now-open chest would be. A groan told her she'd struck true, and after a swift exchange of parries and jabs between the three of them, the cadet lay defeated at their feet.
Removing her blindfold at the concluding whistle, Venatrix exchanged a grin of pride with Percy, his expression mirroring hers.
"Impressive." Oberon's voice drew their attention to his newfound presence next to Morwenna, and the smiles melted from their faces. "However, both of you need to do a better job keeping track of your incapacitated opponents," he said sternly. "In the arena, you can only count someone out once they're dead." His sharp green eyes traced over both Venatrix and Percy, unforgiving.
"You need to be prepared for the possibility that you will end up killing him."
"He's right," Morwenna supplemented, nodding towards the girl with the broadswords and her partner with his shortsword respectively. "Had Kenna and Levan actually been fighting for their lives, they could've easily taken you out from behind." She glared at the two cadets. "Are you fucking dropouts or Academy graduates? What did I say about going easy on them?"
"Sorry ma'am," Kenna said, saluting the Victor with one of her swords. "Won't happen again."
"Better fucking not," Morwenna growled. "And you two," she barked, turning to Venatrix and Percy. "You are a team. Stop dancing around each other and fucking act like it."
Simultaneously, they opened their mouths to protest, but Morwenna cut them off.
"Again."
The last thing she saw before replacing her blindfold was the pressure of her father's stare, insistent on reminding her of their previous conversation. Venatrix exhaled a hiss, willing the thought away from her mind.
He's going to die. You have to accept that.
Percy's elbow gently brushed her spine, his shoulder warm against hers as exertion and adrenaline heated the blood in their veins.
Do I?
The cadets shifted in their positions, their shoes squeaking softly against the plastic mat. Four again, same as last time.
Percy can't die if he never makes it to the arena.
Venatrix's fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword.
There's about two months 'til Reaping Day at the end of June. Not a long time when it comes to broken bones.
Morwenna's whistle pierced the air, and before the cadets could think about making a move, Venatrix ripped her blindfold off, hooking her foot behind Percy's ankle and sending him sprawling to the floor. He yelped in surprise; it turned to a cry of pain as the dull but sturdy tip of Venatrix's sword slammed into the corner of his right elbow— his draw arm. The whistle came again, shrill and violent, but Venatrix ignored it, her sword arcing towards his arm with cold determination.
The blade missed as he recoiled in pain, his body curling in on the injury, and Venatrix raised her sword again—
She had a harder time ignoring the sudden grip around her throat.
Instinctively, she thrashed and wriggled, but the pressure held her tight, fingernails digging like claws into her skin, her hair; Venatrix caught a flash of scarlet in her flailing.
"What the fuck did I just say?"
Morwenna's voice bellowed inches from her ear, livid and redder than her hair; Venatrix quailed at the sheer volume, sagging in her grip as the Victor shook her head like a disobedient dog. Shame burned hot in her cheeks as she glimpsed the open-mouthed expressions of the cadets, Levan kneeling down on the floor next to a still-subdued Percy. Morwenna's berating words echoed through the gym like knives, but it was Percy, the unadulterated look of betrayal on his face, that sent regret coiling through her stomach.
Mercilessly, Morwenna's fingers gripped her by the hair, half-dragging her from the gym; Venatrix glanced back, briefly catching her father's eyes.
The look of stone-hewn disappointment she found there lingered long after the doors closed behind them.
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A/N: Today, we are choosing Violence.
I also have another fun thing for you guys ! I've decided to take a bit of inspiration from SYOT's and I will be taking some non-POV filler tributes for this story. While there may not be much interaction with them, given the amount of detail I'm putting into this story, I would like to be able to put a name and face to each kid. There's not too much benefit to this other than Fun, and they'll be on my blog and in the story, with the chance to get killed by our favorite hot mess with a sword :D They won't necessarily get offed in the Bloodbath either, so you might see them for more than you'd expect. I have a short google form that you guys can fill out if you want to send me a character to kill c: I do have a list of districts on the form that you guys will have to choose from, as some spots, like the D2F, are clearly taken lol. But yeah ! This is mostly just for fun, you don't have to give me a kid if you don't want to, but if you do, go for it ! (: If there are any questions about the form, feel free to pm me on FFN or discord if you have it (I will not be putting out my discord publicly lmao). The submissions will be closed by the time I get to Reaping Day aka Part II of the story, which... is about three chapters ! :D
Form: bit . ly / 3ljFrOB
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Okay, I think that's all for now.. I'll do my best to have the next chapter out within a week as planned, but if not.. You guys can forgive me lol. See ya then !
- Nell