Blinding Shadows. The 78th Games.
IX. Kingdom Come.
I'm headed straight for the castle
They wanna make me their queen
And there's an old man sitting on the throne
That's saying that I probably shouldn't be so mean
I'm headed straight for the castle
They've got the kingdom locked up
And there's an old man sitting on the throne
That's saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut
Straight for the castle
Aristo Krenn. 18.
District One Male.
✦✦✦
Aristo Krenn isn't sure how he feels about his District partner.
Their first interaction wasn't all that pleasant. It took no less than five minutes after arriving on the train for Darling Sarasong to inform them, "You're not supposed to be here."
To that remark, Aristo had simply shrugged his shoulders and uttered a casual, "oops!" before continuing to look out the window as One disappeared behind them.
However, Darling wasn't done speaking, adding a discerning "You're a dishonor to District One" to her previous statement.
"Your mom's a dishonor to District One," Aristo spat out without giving much thought.
His words led to Darling leaning back on the sofa, sighing, "Well, you're not wrong about that... but ouch."
The two haven't spoken since. And that's honestly fine with Aristo; they aren't expecting the Career pack to welcome him with open arms after his little stint with Gaius. Still, he's always hoped that he would at least find some sort of human companionship before the Games, something to make their life seem slightly worth living.
Besides, he's always picked up a distinct essence of melancholia from Darling whenever they saw her around the Academy. He figured that maybe they weren't as different as they seemed, but she's way more dominant and outgoing than he's ever cared to be.
(And he doesn't particularly feel the need to be chivalrous towards a girl who displays an arm covered in self-inflicted injuries like it's some sort of deranged trophy. Aristo knows that there's a loose screw or several in his own head, but at least they have the decency to keep their self-hatred private. He's never thought somebody could be so vainglorious about pain until he watched Darling pick at her scabs with a smile on her face.)
It seems his mentor, Amor Montussy of the 76th Games, doesn't want much to do with them either. He's been sitting next to the brute for a full hour. Yet, neither of them have said a word to one another. Aristo assumed his mentor would be eager to help them, as his sister Empira has been off working with Darling for quite some time. Still, he's used to being wrong about, well... just about everything.
Aristo sits in silence for five more minutes, taking in the lush green trees out the window. Finally, they decides to address Amor with, "Are you planning on just sitting there, or did you want to help me?"
Amor looks up from his book, a bit surprised by the sudden tone of voice, though his face remains emotionless as he replies, "Oh. Well, I was going to offer some advice if you wanted it, but seeing as you going into the Games is a clear suicide mission, I don't see why I should bother."
Aristo scowls as he turns away, back to the window again. "That may be true," he says softly, "but we both know I'm not suicidal. At least, not in the usual sense."
At this, Amor finally closes his book, "Yes," he murmurs, "I know..."
Aristo glances over to Amor and notices that the man appears tired, almost worn out. But despite his appearance, Amor remains as calm as ever. Although his expression shows an air of indifference, his eyes betray an underlying tension. Perhaps he can relate?
The two sit in silence again, only interrupted by a few birds outside and the sound of the train wheels screeching against the rails. Aristo is just beginning to think that maybe Amor isn't such an idiot after all when the other male speaks once more.
"You are going to die," Amor states.
Aristo frowns, "Excuse me?"
Amor shifts uncomfortably in his seat and continues, "You heard me. The odds of a third consecutive victor from One are virtually zero. I've got no clue why my sister is so insistent on training Darling so closely when she seems just as lost as you are."
Aristo's frown deepens, "I didn't ask for your opinion," he mutters.
Amor scoffs, "You basically did. And getting defensive like this isn't a great look; I would know."
He understands that Amor's been dealing with a lot lately; Aristo reads the newspapers when they're bored. But still, he wishes that his mentor would be more helpful.
"What is your problem anyway?" he bursts out, anger starting to boil inside of him. He hadn't meant to raise his voice so harshly.
Amor doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he rubs his temple and sighs loudly, "Look, kid, I get you might be having a tough time, and you shouldn't have to suffer because of a mistake that you made on purpose-"
Aristo interrupts him, "Yeah, well, what about you?" he snaps. "Why are you even here with us?"
Amor's jaw clenches. He stares straight ahead, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.
Finally, after several long moments pass between them, he replies, "I don't really know. One has lots of other mentors. You're right in implying that. I just felt like I had to be here for Empira if that makes any sense."
"I'll bet she's a lot better at this mentor shit than you are," They grumbles under their breath.
Amor laughs humorlessly, "Go into her and Darling's cart if you really care that much. They're to the left."
Aristo gets up and eyes the door, taking several deep breaths before walking towards it. The handle is cool beneath his fingers as he pulls it open and steps forward, his head hung low.
"Oh hello again," Darling calls out to them, her voice almost like a songbird, "We're watching the Reaping recaps; come take a seat."
Next to her, Empira's sitting with a half-smile on her face. She adds, "I'd love to get to know you, Aristo; this seems like a fitting time."
Aristo's lips curl downwards further. He hesitantly moves a step closer to the pair, his feet carrying him until they're seated on a leather sofa beside Darling and Empira.
His eyes dart to the television screen where Caesar Flickermann's prefacing District Two's Reaping ceremony with basic facts about the District.
When he looks back over at Darling, she's looking at him curiously, her head tilted slightly. "Well, these two are probably going to be our allies. What do you think of them?"
Aristo watches as Nessa Cynbel volunteers in place of some younger girl with a confident smile on her face. He can tell there's something sinister in her eyes, though he isn't sure what. Nessa is followed by Seth Bartzabel, who Aristo can already tell is a massive brute. He looks menacing, downright scary even, though Darling doesn't seem to mind.
Noticing that Aristo hasn't answered her, the girl chirps, "Personally, I think Seth is handsome. What do you think?"
"He looks horrific," Aristo responds with a shrug. Horrifically sexy, they add in their mind, which leads to a slight chuckle.
Darling nods her head thoughtfully, "Well, it's obvious that he's a strong contender. If anyone can win in Two, he will." She smiles gently as she leans back into the sofa, "Though we won't need to worry about him, not when we're together."
Aristo rolls his eyes, "Of course you'd say that, Darling..." They say slowly. "You know perfectly well that the odds of me winning are practically zero, but of course, you wouldn't care about that now..."
Darling raises her brows, "I'm sorry. You know I'm just trying to make conversation."
Well, it's not working, Aristo thinks. He glances over to the screen to watch as the Three girl, Velenka van Doren walks to the stage or instead trips over her own feet and then vomits on the ground. She's a mess, obviously. Aristo can't help but laugh as they observe her, saying aloud, "If there's anyone we don't need to worry about, it's her."
He turns back to the duo to catch their reactions; they're clearly displeased.
"...Well, Velenka could surprise us," Darling says quietly.
"By barfing on us, yeah," Aristo comments with a frown. Then again, maybe Darling's into that. They wouldn't be surprised.
Empira looks annoyed, "Everyone discounted me, and look what happened. We can't throw her out just yet."
The screen changes to show District Four. The girl, Morgan's a clear bundle of nerves, and the same can nearly be said about her partner Ridge.
"They look friendly, at least!" Darling enthuses, "I love his hair!"
While half of Ridge's hair is dark brown, the other has been dyed a bubblegum shade of pink. Aristo admits to her, "It's nice, I'd agree."
She beams at him before turning her attention back to the screen, "Why's the boy from Five volunteering? That's so bold." which prompts Aristo to comment himself:
"I think boldness is what's needed around here. Everyone here is either a complete moron or a psychopath; just look at the Five girl."
Zeppelina Skansen hasn't stopped laughing since she first took the stage, eyes full of fury and rage. It's hard for Aristo to believe that she's only fourteen.
"She'll be a problem," Darling says with a sigh, "I suppose we can just take her out easy in the bloodbath."
That'll be fun, Aristo thinks. Admittedly, he's had a dream or two about painting the arena red, or perhaps detonating a bomb and watching the arena go up in flames.
The screen goes black before District Six, and Aristo can't help but let out another huff, "So what do you think about those odds of ours?" Do you think we're fucked?"
Darling and Empira both turn to look at him. "No," Empira finally says, "I think you've got just as much of a chance as anyone else."
And that's precisely what Aristo needs to hear. He didn't come here to win, but it's not too late to go out with one big bang.
Davidson Zinaro. 16.
District Six Male.
✦✦✦
Nothing could've prepared Davidson Zinaro for this.
He sits on the couch of District Six's train with a shell-shocked expression as he rewatches the worst moment of his life air to the entire country. On the screen, he sees Rocky Roads, Six's escort, pull a name from a bowl and deeply sigh.
"Davidson Zinaro," She announces, a slight stutter in her voice.
The screen cuts to Caesar Flickermann, excitedly reciting what the entire nation's undoubtedly thinking, "Yes! That's Davidson Zinaro, as in Harleigh Zinaro's twin brother." He clears his throat then shakes his head downwards, "What a shame, what a shame."
His words don't do much to soothe Davidson, neither do his mentor Avon Venturi's when he says, "Your sister was a great kid, and I'm sure you are too."
He doesn't respond to that. Instead, he leans back on the cart's wall and listens to the clanks of the wheels against the tracks. It brings him back to the quiet nights at home when he'd be able to hear the train outside his window. A shame that he'll probably never be asleep in that room in that bed again.
No. Davidson can't afford to think like that... even if he's probably right when he ponders about how utterly screwed he is. Sure, Harley did well enough, but she's always been the more forthright of the twins, and she didn't have to deal with...
"I mean, I personally think I'll be fine without being a 'great kid,' as you say," His District parter, Kezaeh Wren snaps.
From the little that Davidson knows about the older girl, he doesn't particularly like her. He and his friends would often joke around at school about the infamous girl who had sexual relations with the dead body of a Peacekeeper. Still, he never thought she'd be in his peripheral.
And yet, here she is.
Avon scoffs back, "Based on your behavior, I wouldn't be shocked if the Gamemakers blow up your pedestal before you get the chance to come even close."
"You're an asshole!" Kezaeh yells, and Davidson is tempted to laugh.
But the scowl on her face is enough to push the laughter right out of his throat. Instead, he watches the screen intently, trying to pretend like this isn't happening. He's watching District Seven's Reaping for fun, not because he needs to analyze kids he could potentially ally with. He'd rather do many things than spend more extended time with Kezaeh.
"Fuck you all," Seven's female screams as she walks up the stairs, middle finger in the air, "This country's going to go up in flames; it's literal hell."
So, not her, Davidson notes, shifting his eyes to the other tribute from Seven. Zir hair is a bleached shade of a blonde, and there's a solemn but accepting look on zir face. "Chloris Crenshaw," Davidson says to himself aloud, "I'll keep an eye on zir."
"Please," Kezaeh hisses, "Zirs, a total coward, just look at zir. I'm more interested in the girl."
Avon sighs, "Anyone who you're interested in a better run."
"Why do you hate me?" She finally questions the mentor, "Did I like... do something to make you hate me?"
"You killed my brother..." The man spits, and then he pauses, shaking his head, "You... You murdered my brother with your own two hands. And then you—"
Davidson puts his hands over his ears to drown out their screaming. He closes his eyes tight and leans against the back wall. His day's been hard enough without explicit details regarding his District partner's unkosher relations.
" —Made love to—"
"—Enough!" Avon stops it from escalating, probably for his own sake just as much as Davidson's, "Kezaeh, go to your bedroom; I really don't need to hear from you."
She stands up from her seat and kicks it over before huffing, "You'll be next!" and leaving the room.
Avon and Davidson consciously decide to ignore that, sitting together in silence for a moment or several. Eventually, Avon breaks the silence by apologizing, "I'm sorry about her."
"Not your problem," Davidson says with a nod, "Today's just been... a lot for me." He glances away from the screen for a second and gives a soft smile, looking back up at Avon, "Don't worry about me; I'm sure you have much better things to worry about than me."
"That's rich," Avon teases lightly, "My life is basically hell. I spent two weeks in an arena built to destroy me, only to escape with irreparable trauma and the responsibility of making sure the same doesn't happen to you. The only tribute I actually saved is currently in prison, and my brother was brutally murdered by the girl next door."
Right. Davidson remembers Alphys Madrasa of the 75th Games. The twist was that only avoxes were reaped, and Six's victor sort of went off the deep end after winning. Last he heard, they were arrested on arson charges and possible anti-Capitol conspiracy. Still, he doesn't usually think about the Games and victors, really.
'Cause thinking about the Games makes him remember Harleigh, which makes Davidson think about how he's a total ass for disrespecting her whole livelihood. Sure, he's got to think of the Games now. Still, he can't help but wonder if the only reason he was reaped was that some extra-terrestrial force was punishing him for being the worst mourning brother of all time.
"That's pretty rough," Davidson admits to him.
A smile tugs at Avon's lips, and he nods, "Yeah." There's a pause as Avon continues to seemingly stare into space, but he suddenly speaks again, "You're not like her, you know."
"Who? Kezaeh?"
"Well, duh. But I'm talking about your sister." Avon nods once, "You seem far more subdued."
Davidson smiles slightly, "I am."
A pause lingers between them, but it's brief. As soon as Davidson looks back to the screen, watching the girl from Eight smirks on the stage. "She seems friendly," Avon offers, "Have you thought much about allying with anyone?"
"I have," He answers simply, "Though... that didn't end well for Harleigh."
Davidson remembers the girl from Nine, Harleigh's supposed ally selling her out to the Careers. He doesn't want the same to happen to him.
It takes a couple seconds for Avon to catch onto the hint Davidson gave him. Still, once he does, his cheeks turn pink, and his brow furrows, "Oh..." he mumbles, "Well, not every alliance ends as messy as that one did. Nobody ever tells you how lonely it gets in there."
Davidson doesn't respond.
"Look..." Avon starts slowly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he looks around the train, then back to Davidson, "If you want, I could introduce you to some of the other kids—"
"It's okay," Davidson interrupts, "I'll figure it out eventually, but thank you for the offering."
"Will you really?"
Davidson shrugs, "Dunno."
"Good enough for me."
And then, as usual, they lapse into silence.
Neither says a word as the recap continues, Davidson's eyes glazing over by the time the boy from Twelve is called. He yawns, then falls over onto the side of the couch, prompting Avon to say, "Listen, you can go to sleep if you want?"
"Isn't Kezaeh in the sleeping car?" Davidson questions.
Avon corrects him, "There are two sleeping cars, actually. Don't worry; I wouldn't put you in the same room as her alone."
"Thanks," He mutters, pulling himself up to get off the sofa, "Sleep well, Avon."
"You too, Davidson. Sleep well."
And then, with that, Davidson goes to his own sleeping compartment while Avon stays behind to watch. In the corner of the room, there's a satin set of pajamas, but Davidson isn't sure he wants to wear them. His cargo pants and button-up shirt are all he has left of life from Six, and he doesn't know if he wants to let go just yet.
And so, he lies down on top of the cushions and pulls one of the blankets over his head, hoping to fall asleep. Instead, he finds himself unable to ease into slumber. He feels so incredibly exhausted, but he just can't relax enough to even try to drift off. So instead, he lays there staring up at the ceiling, his eyes glued to the light green paint and wondering what Harleigh thought about when she was in the exact same spot just a year ago.
Davidson can't help but feel that her ghost is haunting him, forbidding him from sleep since he refuses to mourn her. He just hopes her tormenting stops in the arena.
Nessa Cynbel. 18.
District Two Female.
✦✦✦
As Two's train steadily approaches the Capitol, Nessa Cynbel feels less optimistic than planned.
Seth hasn't said a word to her this whole time. Instead, he's been brooding in the corner with a stone-faced expression. In fact, he hasn't said anything to anybody at all. Their mentors Brutus Marcellus and Enobaria Keating, tried to get him to talk, but he's been silent.
That's a stark contrast from the boy Nessa remembers from the Academy. She remembers a Seth Bartzabel who was volatile and vicious, not somebody who could sit for hours at a time without speaking. Many things could be running through his mind, and Nessa isn't sure she wants to know what he's thinking. While she's always strived to keep her sadism hidden, Seth's open vindictiveness is what got him removed from the Academy. The only reason he's here now is that it turns out Julian Stahl can't really fight in a death pageant when half his face is in bandages from being burnt like raw onion. Even though he wasn't allowed back through the Academy's golden gates, Corvus couldn't argue that of all the eighteen-year-old boys in Two, Seth's most qualified to kick ass in the arena.
Though maybe Nessa hasn't made much of an effort to speak to him despite the fact she's spent the whole morning at his side. They shook hands yesterday, but all Seth did was grunt when their palms touched.
She decides to try again, this time initiating small talk by saying, "The eggs were pretty good this morning, no?"
Silence.
Nessa pushes again, "I know for a fact you like eggs! I saw you eating them that one day in the Dining—"
"Cut the crap," Seth's voice is low and discerning, but at least he's talking! "Monotonous conversations about jack shit aren't going to get us anywhere."
"Well, I didn't think you were going to say anything at all," She admits, still recovering from the shock of hearing him speak.
"I know your secret," He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, "You don't have to act all friendly with me."
Nessa frowns, "What do you mean?" ut there's something about the way he talks, a hint of malice dripping from every syllable, that makes her feel uneasy. He's got to know, but Nessa doesn't know-how.
"You're a fucking liar, Cynbel," He scowls, eyes flashing as if she's personally offended him, and the words hurt more than they should. "I know it's just a façade, the mask you wear to pretend you're some kind of nice person— but consider this; you're allowed to be a freak around here."
Nessa blinks, taken aback. She had no idea he even knew what she'd done— let alone where—and she feels herself shrinking under the accusation.
"The Capitol wants a show, Nessa," Seth continues, "And as long as you do that, as long as we do that... well, we're golden!"
She jerks in her seat, "We? Bold of you to assume I plan on allying with somebody who ignored me for a day."
He scoffs and folds his arms. "Like you'd purposely get on the bad side of somebody who was kicked out of the Academy for having a genuine disregard for human life." He huffs. "I bet nobody likes you either, huh?"
Nessa glares but can't refute that he has a point. She's never gotten along with anyone at the Academy besides Mika. It's almost like everyone hates her, calling her a kiss ass as if she controlled the fact the head of the Academy adopted her when she was but a child. No wonder Seth acts so angrily at her— most people are afraid of her, and she doesn't blame them.
Nessa knows she's different. She's the odd one out, even among the other kids her age, but maybe Seth's the same. Perhaps that's why she feels so uneasy talking to him. Like she's walking on eggshells in this new situation.
"I mean... I have one friend," She chuckles awkwardly, "Mika."
Seth looks away and rolls his eyes, "I had one friend too, but consider this... we're both clearly miserable."
Nessa purses her lips, "So?"
"So we should let it out in the arena," He smirks at her, "Don't you want to win?"
A sudden spike of anger shoots down Nessa's spine, and she bristles, "Of course I want to win," she argues fiercely, "But I'm not about to torture a literal child for fun."
(She does. Nessa's been dreaming of blood and guts, exposed bones and brain matter on the floor. She was jealous too when she saw what Seth did to Julian and how loudly he screamed. She wishes she could do the same thing, but no... that's not her. She has to control herself.)
"I never said that," Seth points out, "I was just implying that if we form a pack with One and Four, we shouldn't be afraid to work together and take them out. You saw them yesterday, no? Darling's a total type-A diva, and Aristo's clearly a mess. The Fours are weaklings, don't you agree?"
Nessa doesn't want to admit it, but...
"...yeah, I guess you're right," Nessa sighs, slumping slightly, "We're by far the best of this year's offerings."
Seth nods in agreement, "Exactly." He smiles faintly, "I'm not entering a Pack with them unless I have somebody strong on my side, like you— and hey! We can torture a kid together since you mentioned it—"
"—No thanks," Nessa quickly dismisses, her eyebrows knitting together.
(But bloodlust is still on her mind. She just wants to stick her knife down someone's throat and watch them scream. Nessa wants to see the blood that she's the artist behind; she wants to paint crimson splatters on empty walls. She won't feel whole until someone's life ends 'cause it was her choice.)
"Fine, fine," Seth relents, "Whatever you want." He looks towards her with a slight smirk, "You agree about killing the others, right?"
"Yes, but—"
"Good," He sits up straighter in his seat, "Because then you'll be the leader."
"Of the whole pack?" She asks incredulously.
He shrugs, "That would seem to make sense. Wouldn't it? You're best suited. At least you can pretend to be friendly; I'm sort of an ass all the time if you haven't realized."
"That sounds fair," Ness agrees, "But look at Darling and tell me with your full chest that she isn't going to try and control this."
Seth grins and leans back, "So then we just... overpower her." He shrugs once more, "Simple."
"By doing what?" Nessa asks, her brow furrowed.
There's a pause before Seth answers, his gaze distant, "She seems like a romantic. I'm very much not a romantic, but maybe I can pretend?"
"So you'd seduce her into listening to me. Right, because when I think of desirable people, you're definitely the first thing that comes to mind," Nessa says, her voice laced with sarcasm. "I think you're going to need a better strategy."
"Oh? Why?" Seth laughs derisively, "Are you going to do better?"
"No," Nessa shakes her head, "But I still think it's weird you've ignored me for so long, only to claim I'm a vicious beast and qualified to lead our alliance so that we can kill everyone."
His expression twists into one of anger, his mouth twitching upward in a sneer, "Yeah... well," he shrugs, "I don't think you hate me, which is worth noting."
"You do amuse me," She admits, "But amusement isn't enough to get me entirely on your side."
Nessa's still confused how Seth just knew her sadistic secrets without saying a word. Was her laughter a bit too loud when Julian's face went up in flames? Can she really be faulted for that?
"Right… whatever," He stands abruptly, "Let's go."
"Where?" Nessa stands too before she looks out the door and realizes that the forests are now behind them and there are buildings in their vicinity, "Oh, we're here!"
She hurries over to the window, her heart beating rapidly, "Good lord, we're here!"
Seth follows closely behind her.
"Wow," Nessa breathes, looking up and admiring the architecture of the city, "This is amazing!" She takes a step forward, opens the window, and peers outside, "It's beautiful!"
People on the streets look up, recognizing her and screaming her name through cheers. Nessa waves, smiling widely and waving at everybody, before turning back inside, "You're not as excited, are you, Seth?"
"Why would I be?" Seth snaps, "They're not going to actually give a shit about me unless I become their victor."
He makes a point, but Nessa still can't contain her excitement. Finally, she's going to have a chance to get her hands dirty. With her victims slowly arriving, her anticipation continues to grow.
For once, the ball's about to be in her court.
Castle - Halsey
Welcome to the first chapter of pre-Games! It was a lot of fun writing these Tributes interact, even if I've always considered my dialogue to be a weakness. I hope that I did everybody's characters justice though, especially in Nessa's POV because I feel like her intro was the weakest of them all. Hopefully this made more sense.
As for Davidson and Kezaeh just automatically knowing Chloris' neo-pronouns, just suspend your disbelief. I don't want to waste time with Tributes having to introduce themselves as like "Hi, my pronouns are zi/zir," when that's not too important in the grand scheme things, so everyone just knows everyone's pronouns, okay? Theoretically, I could've had some of the more nutty tributes misgender Aristo, Sterling etc, but I rather not trigger myself and others, so hopefully you understand. If you don't, it's almost 2022 and this fic takes place at least 200 years in the future, so get over it.
I've been hard at work planning alliances, and this chapter definitely had some hints. As always, your thoughts are much appreciated, and I'll see you later with the Parade chapter!