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The Universal Remedy: The 169th Hunger Games.
panacea169 . weebly. com
For Em, with love.
I: The Prognosis
Convenience is poison. One must accustom themselves to pursue any intention as soon as it appears, regardless of difficulty. Otherwise one burns out, gives in to doubt, starts fearing oneself. The bolder the dream, the more surely it becomes dust when the moment is lost.
From up here, Nadra almost feels like she's on top of the world. She's always loved this spot - sitting on the swing set, rocking gently as she looks upon the sprawling mass of houses and quarries they call District Two, watching the whole world go by. The sunsets from up here are the best in the district - the sky a wash of pinks and oranges, bathing the distant peaks with a soft golden glow.
Nadra knows it's the final time she'll see this. Tomorrow morning, she's expected to volunteer herself as Two's sacrificial lamb, forsaking her life for that of the boy two feet to her right.
Jehan Claes is everything Two idolises; diligent, with a mind solid as stone and the drive to succeed. To the Marmoreal Institute, he's their star student whose presence in the upcoming Games will save them from impending dishonour. To Nadra, though, he's so much more. She knows things will never be the same between them - they haven't been, not for six months, not since she was called into Headmistress Branca's office - but they pretend, sitting side by side as if they'll both be okay in the upcoming weeks. Nadra knows they won't be, deep inside, but if she doesn't at least try to kid herself, she'll fall apart.
The silence between them as they sit and swing above Two is unusual - before all of this, before it was known that the both of them would volunteer together, they wouldn't shut up making silly jokes about their trainers or Nadra prattling on about a new interest or Jehan reminiscing upon their childhood rivalry. No, they'd usually be all words - but not tonight. Nadra can't seem to find them, and whenever she attempts to open her mouth to bring up the inevitable, try to voice what they're both thinking, it simply dies in her throat. It's more than frustrating. And so they don't speak; they swing, and they watch the sun set over their home of eighteen years, all too aware of their arrangement.
Out of the corner of her eye, Nadra sees Jehan turn his head and smile at her. "Getting a bit chilly, huh?"
She hunches her back, looking his way and grinning as wide as she can. "I should have brought a jacket. Can't get a cold before our last big adventure, can I?"
"What kind of medic would you be then?" He scoffs. Though she knows it's a joke, it feels more pointed now than ever. If she cannot be a medic, support Jehan through thick and thin, then she is useless in the eyes of their mentors, in the eyes of their district.
Despite it, she laughs. "You know I'm sturdier than that. Our bones are stone, wills sturdier than a mountain, y'know… whatever shit they tell us at the Institute."
Jehan chuckles, oh so quietly, and stares back at the horizon as the sun disappears, leaving a faint purple haze in its wake. He's never been the sort of person to voice his deepest thoughts, keeping them to himself because of what Two teaches about honour and strength. The few words he's spoken tonight are still far more than what he usually allows himself. Nadra's always considered herself lucky to have been the one to break him out of his shell, even if she only really sees that when the two of them are alone together.
She suspects that, despite the jokey tone to his voice, he's feeling as conflicted about their arrangement as she is.
When they called her into that office, she was expecting the worst. The news that she hadn't done well enough in their exams, that she wouldn't be chosen as volunteer, that she had no future at all but to enlist with the Peacekeepers like Sora did or to work at her mother's clinic, trapped and miserable for the rest of her days. Instead, she was met with Juno and Markus - their mentors - along with Headmistress Branca, informing her that they were returning to the strategy that got them their last victor.
"You should be thankful, honestly," Juno Heimdall drawled, her stare venomous. "Nobody even told Chrys back then that he was only there to back me up. We know that Jehan trusts you completely, and that your skills are more suited to support. It's really a no-brainer to send you in instead of another highly competitive trainee who would no doubt cause our self-destruction yet again."
All Nadra heard was that they had no faith in her. That the life she so yearned for was out of reach, even though she was to enter the arena. That she'd be giving up everything for Jehan to live out her dreams.
"Yes, I understand." Nadra had said, her voice hollow. "Thank you for the opportunity. I will not disappoint you."
Though Markus had given her a weak smile and Headmistress Branca had thanked her in return, Juno's dark eyes bore into her soul, knowing all too well that this method had been how she'd won the 158th. All she could think of was the weight of their expectations and how one conversation had completely obliterated her confidence as she stepped out of the Marmoreal Institute doors. Her legs had worked on autopilot, taking her back to her house and onto her bed, collapsing under the weight of their words as sobs racked her chest.
Her best friend was going in with her, and he was their champion who would save Two from their decade-long losing streak. He was expected to come out, and she had no choice but to die for him.
If she didn't, she feared the consequences would be too dire to live with.
Jehan hops off the swing, straightening his back and offering Nadra a consoling look, almost as if he can tell exactly what she's thinking.
"You know you don't have to, right?"
Nadra blinks, incredulous, and barks out a laugh. "You're kidding. Of course I have to. What kind of friend would I be if I chickened out at the last second?"
"You'd be alive when I came back, that's for sure. I wouldn't blame you in the slightest."
Unsaid was the fact that the Institute clearly didn't believe Jehan was good enough to come back without her support. That if she didn't volunteer, leaving another girl to take her place - no doubt someone who wouldn't work as well with Jehan - they'd repeat history yet again, and another one of those new, trained 'anti-careers' would take the crown yet again. Nothing was more embarrassing for Two than last year, when the anti-career pack had slaughtered both of Two's tributes in the bloodbath, leaving the trained Five boy to walk out victorious. They clearly believe Nadra could stop something like that from happening again, and the dishonour upon her name if she failed to fulfil her duty would follow her to the grave.
More than that, though, is the fact that she sees no future for herself without the Games. Dying is a better option than remaining stagnant in Two.
Jehan cocks his head, searching Nadra's features. "It's not like you to be so quiet. You know you can talk to me about anything that's bothering you."
Nadra sighs and stands to meet Jehan's stance, though she's still a good half-foot shorter than him. "I'm not just gonna leave you, okay? Believe it or not, this isn't just about you, Jehan." Her expression softens, and she adds quietly, "I need the Games as much as you do."
He seems taken aback - his eyes blown wide, and Nadra instantly feels as if she's gone over a line. He sees the change in her demeanour and places a hand gently on her arm, and she doesn't have the heart to shake it off. "I'm sorry," he mutters.
"It's fine," Nadra replies, though her voice is subdued. Her hand moves up to meet his, and she offers a conciliatory squeeze. "We should start heading home. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."
Satisfied that he's done no wrong, Jehan smiles and agrees. They do not keep their distance as they hike down the viewpoint, arms linked as they return back down into the city and their own separate ways. When Nadra steps through the door and past her mother's office to her room, she sees the woman still hard at work, looking over spreadsheets and patient files. Though she's always told Nadra that she loves her work, the dark circles under her eyes and the despondency in her voice has always acted as a window into a life that Nadra can see herself all-too-well falling into if she never had the Games. A miserable, tedious existence. Something she will do anything to avoid, even if it means signing her own death warrant come the morning.
Nadra wishes she could say the reaping ceremony and her goodbyes went as smoothly as she'd envisioned in her head. Now, sitting on the plush velvet lounge of the train carriage her and Juno currently reside in, she realises that her momentary hesitation to volunteer and the quiver of her voice after the fact was absolutely noted.
"I am serious about this. It was just nerves," Nadra explains, her mentor's dark-eyed stare only making her feel worse.
"You had your little wobble, okay, but sponsors in the Capitol will still note it. You may be here as collateral, but you're still Two, so you have the obligation to at least pretend to have some amount of mental fortitude." Juno almost spits. God, Nadra never understood her hatred for almost all of her mentees - when she was little, she idolised Juno. Her Games were the first she can remember Two winning - she'd been her role model. Now that she's been a trainee, known the woman personally, she's faced with the unfortunate truth that she's one of the most unpleasant people she's had the displeasure of knowing.
You could at least pretend to want to help me, she thinks, but doesn't speak. Instead, she keeps her head, remains as cordial as possible. "I'm here now, though, am I not? It's a bit too late for me to jump out of the window and run back to Two with my tail between my legs."
"You could if you really wanted to," Juno deadpans.
Nadra sighs and leans back in her seat. There's no point arguing with the woman. "So, we're meant to discuss strategies now, are we not? I'd like to hear more about how you won, what Chrysoberyl did to help you. So I can emulate him."
"You're speaking my language now," she smirks, reaching over to grab the drink an avox had poured for her. "Well, there's a few differences between what they did with him and what we've done with you. For one, poor sod didn't have the grief training you do."
Nadra hums. Since her selection, she's had less combat training, more prep to cope with her upcoming demise. Of course, all selected volunteers have some degree of grief training - now more than ever, when traditional career dominance is being challenged by the outer districts. She's had more than Jehan has, but the existential turmoil has done more harm than help, she thinks. Nadra's always been a happy-go-lucky person, and the whole affair has put a damper on her usual self-assured nature.
"So he really knew nothing?"
Juno takes a sip of her wine, lounging more comfortably. "I wouldn't say nothing. He was kinda informed about our mentors' plans right about now, on the way to the Capitol. Came as a bit of a shock, as you can imagine. It wasn't as harsh as we've been with you, though; more like, 'Juno's obviously gonna win this year, so we picked you to compliment her talents rather than compete with them.' He was pretty torn up about it, but simp that he was, he accepted the role pretty quickly."
Nadra doesn't like the insinuation that she has a similar relationship with Jehan, but voicing those frustrations will only get her in hot water. "Well, I've already accepted my role. I'm ready to die for Jehan, now what?"
"Now you live up to that promise," Her mentor grins with a sly wink. "Your job is to support Jehan in every regard during training. Support him vying for leader of the career pack, if he wants it; score lower than him during your private session, though with your skillset I don't think that'll be too hard to achieve; and make sure your interview puts the focus on him. I don't want you to outright publicise your suicide mission, but saying some shit like 'I'm dedicated to bringing home another victor for Two!' is sort of what I expect."
Yet again, Nadra has to contain the urge to speak back, but she holds her tongue. She knows she's capable of more, but the leash she's held back by is oh-so tight, and if she dares to loosen it, she's too afraid of what it'll mean for their sponsorship chances. Lord knows Juno only makes an attempt when she approves of her tribute's attitude.
"I can do that," she quips. "I can do all of that."
The repetition is almost an attempt to convince herself as much as Juno.
"Good! Well, I knew you could, which is why we picked you. And your… relationship with Jehan, too. It's good! Better than mine and Chrys's was. You're a lot closer."
"I'd do anything for him," Nadra immediately replies. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't willing to die for him."
It's not a lie. Jehan has been her lifeline these past few years; when Sora left to join the Peacekeeping ranks of District Five, he stepped up from being her staunch rival to her closest friend. He's done more for her than she can possibly repay.
"And you know what we say about duty, don't you? You keep your word, no matter the cost. You've promised to bring him back - your unique skill in medicine is what really tipped you over to being our pick. Make good use of it. Jehan may be our best combatant, but there'll be half a dozen others just as good. You stick with him but out of the action unless absolutely necessary. He needs you by his side to have a chance in hell against all those damn rats being trained to maim in the outer districts."
Still salty about last year, I see, Nadra ponders, nodding her head. Suppose it was our district's biggest failure and embarrassment since the whole Kirkas situation.
"Speaking of those rats," she segues, "maybe we can meet back up with Jehan and Markus to watch the reaping recap? It should be airing soon, and I'd like to get an idea of our competition."
"That's the smartest thing you've said all day," Juno agrees.
Nadra heaves herself off the lounge, brushing down the creases in her dress as she does. Her mother insisted she wear it, even though formality has never been her style, and even though the Sidero family has never been able to afford the fancy ballgowns some girls wear to the reapings each year. Juno leads the way, glass of wine still grasped in her perfectly manicured hand. She lets the avoxes at the door open it for her, not even acknowledging their presence - Nadra smiles, at least, and though they don't return it, she hopes they appreciate it.
"Oh, Markus~!" Juno yells as soon as they're back in the main car. Her shrill tone sends goosebumps down Nadra's spine, and she's thankful the other woman's back was turned to her so she didn't witness her wince. "Come out here, old fart! We're watching the recaps!"
"Coming!" A slightly irritated male voice responds, shortly followed by the appearance of the two men from the opposite train car. Markus scrunches together his eyebrows and sighs as he takes his seat by the television - everyone at the Institute knows how much he hates Juno and being in her presence. It was unfortunately decided that she'd be coming with him this year instead of Karmen, who he decidedly gets on a lot better with. Nadra knows why Juno is objectively the better mentor in her situation, but she still wishes the unassuming woman were here instead, even if she'd be morph'd up the entire time as she usually is nowadays.
Jehan offers her a conciliatory smile, as if he knows that Juno had been a handful to be alone in a room with. "You good?" He asks, just to be sure.
"Fine," Nadra replies, sitting at his side. "It's just real now, y'know?"
"Totally get it," he murmurs, too quiet for their mentors to hear. Juno flops down opposite Markus, taking up an entire couch just so she can sit with her legs up.
She glances at the wall, seeing that it is in fact almost time for the recaps - "Well then, let's get this show on the road. I'd like to hear everyone's thoughts, don't hold anything back!"
She turns on the television, and the Two team are greeted by the glistening smile of Chantilly Apsinthos, the Master of Ceremonies, as she finishes off commentating Twelve's reaping. "Now, ladies, gents, and those otherwise undefined, how about we rewind and take a look at all twenty-four of our contestants at once, hm?"
One's ceremony is comparable to most years - barring the 162nd, but nobody likes to talk about that - with two very different-looking volunteers. Pandora Adaeze is drop-dead gorgeous, carrying herself with the confidence and poise expected from One's girls, her warm smile soft yet knowing. Julius Vuitton, on the other hand, is stone-faced as he takes the stage, and his stance eminantes dominance as he stands taller than his partner with ice in his piercing blue eyes.
"One didn't seem to get the memo that we're not sending competitive pairs anymore," Nadra mutters. "They don't look like they compliment each other - their energies are way too different."
"That just means they'll probably self-destruct easier. No real skin off our backs if they do, but hopefully they'll be easy enough to work with," Jehan adds, and Markus nods approvingly.
When their own reaping ceremony is shown, Nadra cringes at how long that moment of hesitation was - though it seemed to be seconds, watching it back in full colour makes it seem like a lifetime.
Markus sees her discomfort and clears his throat. "You should play it off as a pause for dramatic effect, if you're ever asked about it."
That only makes heat rise to her cheeks, though Juno concedes that it's a solid idea. Jehan mirrors Julius in many ways - his back is straight, shoulders squared. He is solid as bedrock, the champion that Two knows him to be, and everything that Nadra is not.
Three proves uneventful, a scrawny little girl pushed to the stage and a slightly older boy scowling as he takes the stand. Four is where things pick up again - they've been going downhill even faster than Two has, without being able to produce quality volunteers for going on a decade now. Even when two have been produced, they're rarely training centre picks, more often rogues than not. Nadra is shocked to see that, for the first time in her memory, there is no female volunteer for the reaped girl.
"Oh, now you know they're in their flop era," Juno laughs incredulously. "This is unheard of."
"Better hope there's a male volunteer, or Four's entirely ruled out." Markus adds, only to be interrupted again by Juno.
"Oh no, no no, if you ally with them at all it'll be a sign of weakness. Four's no longer career in my books - fucking sea rats."
As it turns out, Four does have a male volunteer - though unlike in One or Two, where the chosen volunteers are seated at the front of the large crowd so as to be able to make it to the stage before any rogues can take their place, the boy who comes forward is from the seventeens section.
"He doesn't look promising," Jehan notes. "I think you might be right about not allying with Four."
Neptune Leostei is a twiggish boy, not built like Julius or Jehan are; "If he is trained, his physique certainly doesn't show it," Nadra says, and just like that, they've ruled out one of their longest-kept allies.
Suppose it really is the end of an era for us traditional careers…
As Five's ceremony begins, Juno is quick to remind the pair that Five has become a force to be reckoned with in recent years. "They probably won't produce two volunteers because their centre is new and rocky at best, but whoever they do send in is probably fucking bonkers."
And the girl who steps up to volunteer, Venera Zelophenad, definitely appears to be. If she didn't step out of Five's crowd, Nadra could almost be convinced she was from District One, her long blonde hair shining and her somewhat dainty demeanour so obviously a front.
"Well, there's your first primary target," Juno points at the screen with her free hand.
"She looks like she'll probably lead whatever outer volunteer alliance forms," Nadra freewheels, "based solely on appearance, of course, but she seems to have somewhat of a magnetic aura to her."
The scrawny, dark-haired boy who kicks and complains as he's dragged on stage isn't volunteered for - neither are the pair from Six, and so the team spends little time commenting on any of them. So far, only the reaped Four girl looks to have any chance of being somewhat of a fighter, but that's largely due to her tall stature and age.
"Depending on who shows today, I think the status of Seven taking over Four as our main ally alongside One will really be solidified," Markus says as the feed cuts to the lumber district. Seven's adopted their concept of selected volunteers sitting at the front of the crowd, and both Quill Ascelin and Vitali Zelcova take the stand without issue. Quill is on the shorter side, though they're reasonably stocky and their expression portrays that they're not here to play around; Vitali is the tallest and strongest-looking tribute so far, despite his somewhat demure face and unsure standing on the podium.
"They look pretty good," Jehan sheepishly remarks. "Serious, like. I'm sure they'll bring something good to the table."
Nadra agrees, though there's something about Vitali in particular that unsettles her in a way she can't really describe. Compared to Quill, it feels like he's the inferior one despite his size - that just like her, he's a second choice victor to their rising star.
Three more volunteers step forward - the girl from Eight, and the boys from Ten and Twelve. Each deepens the dread that's begun gnawing at Nadra's stomach. She knows there was once a time when there were only six volunteers expected per year, but the whole legalisation of training centres across the country has shifted the dynamic between careers and outers significantly.
"Eleven volunteers," Nadra whistles. "That's a lot."
"There were thirteen last year. It could be much worse," Jehan retorts, garnering an approving glimpse from Juno. Nadra's brow furrows.
"Do I have to remind you that one of those volunteers killed both our tributes?" Juno hisses, almost dropping her glass.
Markus brings the energy right back down with his usual pragmatism. "She's right - you still need to be careful. Keep a close eye on those five - I don't think you should take in any of them, of course, but they'll most likely form a pack to combat you. Don't drop your guards, even for a second."
They eat dinner, their escort adding unnecessary commentary on how they should really take the boy from Four for tradition's sake, and Nadra retires to her room by planting herself face-first onto the plush mattress. Trying to put up a mask of complete and utter neutrality around her mentors is exhausting - they expect her to be as serious as Jehan, and the cold front utterly drains her. If there's anything she can't wait for, it's the freedom that being away from them that training will bring. It may be okay to pretend for a while, but as soon as Nadra is out of Juno's sight, nothing can stop her from being the real Nadra Sidero - if she's to die, why have her final days spent acting like someone she's not?
Among the other tributes, Nadra feels almost naked. Sure, she's clothed in silver silks, blue glass shards poking out from her skin in imitation of crystals, but everyone else seems to have more of their shit together than her. She and Jehan ran into the Ones whilst they were getting ready for the parade, and somehow despite their entirely different complexions and hair colours, their team made the pair look completely harmonious in bejewelled golden suits.
The fact that they're silver and gold, second and first is not lost on her.
First out to the chariot hangar, as it seems, there's some amount of tension hanging in the air that the four career tributes have yet to clear.
"Our alliance with Four is over, is it not?" One's Julius raises, though it's said more like a declaration of fact.
"That's just what we were thinking," Jehan answers. "If they can't select two volunteers, they're not worth our time."
Julius's partner, Pandora, speaks up. "By that logic, any time an outer district can produce two volunteers, we should take them into the pack. You know we should be taking quality into consideration, right? We've been working with an eight-strong pack for years now; I'm just not sure how well we'll function with six."
The One boy rolls his eyes. They don't get along, Nadra notes mentally. Clashing personalities. Two entirely different attitudes to the Games. One always has to have their cake and eat it too, don't they?
"I think, then, we should at least probe the Four boy. If he's not up to our standards, we don't ally with him, and stick with just Seven. Sound good?" Nadra adds. Julius squints his eyes at her, a scowl forming on his lips, though Pandora offers a shrug.
"If we probe Four, we should do the same with the others. The Five girl looks like she can hold her own," Pandora murmurs.
As more tributes file into the hangar, Nadra watches out for the other volunteers. The scrawny Sixes or Nines are of no worry to her; but when Venera enters the room, her dress less like the campy outfits of Five's past and more evocative of the careers themselves, she can't help but feel threatened. Her little district partner, Zhenya, argues with her as they make their way towards their chariot, though she ignores every word out of his mouth.
Before they can even get the chance to talk to Neptune from Four as he makes himself apparent, he's waltzing up to Venera and making his case.
Pandora grimaces as the two stare daggers at the group of four, whispering to one another conspiratorially. "Looks like you're right, Julius."
She seems less annoyed that they won't be growing their numbers; more irritated at the fact that her partner is right about Four leaving to side with the district that's been heading the anti-careers in recent years. Julius preens in response, tucking a tuft of blonde hair behind his ear and asserting, "When am I not?"
Jehan leans over to Nadra's side, his expression neutral as he whispers what she's been thinking this entire time. "I hope Seven arrives soon. There's only so much of this dude I can take."
"I'm just praying that neither of them are as painfully obnoxious."
She didn't have high hopes, but her initial assessment of the Sevens seems to have been somewhat accurate. Whilst Vitali Zelcova is the largest of their group, he comes across more like a stuffed teddy than a bear; Quill Ascelin holds themself with the poise of a noble, her soft hair and features making her appear almost ethereal in the fae-inspired outfits the pair sport.
"Greetings!" She announces, and Nadra notices the pastel spattering of green glitter across her cheeks.
"Make yourselves welcome," Jehan says calmly. "Quill and Vitali?"
"Indeed, friends," she asserts. "I can speak for Vitali and myself when I tell you it's a great honour to work with you all this year. I assume this is all of us, yes?"
"You'd think correctly," Julius says, supremacy emanating from his tone. "We're back to just six, it seems."
"I wanted to see if we could recruit an outlying volunteer, but it seems they've already decided to form their own pack," Pandora sighs, one of her cheeks squished against the palm of her hand.
"It's a shame about Four, at least," Quill says, "I mean, how embarrassing is this for them? No wonder the boy didn't even bother to approach you."
Further away from their group, the pairs from Eight, Ten, and Twelve have all arrived, with each of their volunteers joining Venera and Neptune. The Eight girl looks like she's never smiled a day in her life; the Ten boy, on the other hand, has a sleazy grin as he jokes with Neptune. Twelve's stature is imposing, but he seems to already be formulating some sort of plan with Venera, occasionally glancing at Nadra and her allies.
Quill seems to notice Nadra's quietness, their gaze turning to the anti-careers. "Keeping an eye on them already, Two? I truly do love to see it."
"Of course," Nadra chuckles, "The only solace I can find is the fact that the five of them are split across five districts. We'll be able to show our unity a lot better than them."
"That's a good point," Pandora adds, when a producer enters the hangar and calls all the tributes to get onto their chariots for the parade to begin.
"Best of luck, everyone," Vitali says as he and Quill are ushered back to the seventh chariot.
"You too," Nadra wishes, giving them a little wave.
Jehan helps her mount the chariot, a stark contrast to how Julius leaves Pandora to get on unassisted - not that she needed help. The One girl turns back to Nadra and smiles at her as the gates open for their first exhibition to Panem - Nadra is stunned by the crowd, the lights, the noise. Thankfully, Jehan is by her side to take her hand and keep her steady.
In that moment, there's nowhere else she'd rather be.
Nadra is up early the next morning, changing hastily into her burgundy tracksuit and avoiding Juno's presence as much as possible as she grabs a quick breakfast and rushes to the elevator with Jehan.
"Parade went well, but not well enough. You both need to try harder. You may not be competing with one another, but everyone else is still an enemy. I expect you both to outshine your allies during your private sessions and interviews, so do try your best, mmkay?"
The parade had gone well, and Nadra hadn't made any enemies yet, which was more than could be said for her allies. After the parade had finished, Julius'd had the nerve to approach Neptune and threaten him, to which he'd needed to be dragged away by Vitali. Quite honestly, it was an embarrassing display, and one that the Two pair had been glad to stay out of. With a slap on the wrist, Julius had been allowed to return to his suite without anything in the real way of punishment, Pandora on his heels sighing heavily and apologising for his behaviour.
"It's fine, don't worry about it!" Nadra had chirped, waving her hand noncommittally. "Hopefully Decorum can kick some sense into him before training starts tomorrow?"
"I sure hope so," The One girl sighed. "Sleep well, Nadra."
Nadra wasn't sure if her cheeks were heating from the embarrassment or something else - though it wasn't something she had time to consider, now. She'd never been one to get close with others, too focussed on figuring out what she was doing with her life to worry about another distraction in the form of a companion. Even so, as she and Jehan took the elevator down to the gym, she was thinking of the One girl.
(She shouldn't have been. Nadra was here for one purpose and one purpose only - she'd given up her own autonomy to support Jehan. Distractions were unwelcome, but Nadra has always struggled with focussing on any one thing at a given time.)
When they arrive, they find the gym empty save for the trainers and the pairs from Six and Eight, with Gamemakers steadily filing into the overseeing box. The Sixes look timid, the girl shying away from her blonde district partner, whose lanky frame conjures ideas of being easily snapped in half like a twig.
"Good morning, Nadra," comes a lyrical voice from behind her, making her jump out of her skin. She turns to see the pair from One, Pandora beaming at her whilst the only word Nadra can find to describe Julius would be frazzled.
Nadra laughs nervously, standing up straight as to look like she wasn't just totally caught off guard. "Morning, Pandora, Julius. Sleep well?"
"Like a fucking baby," Pandora sighs, stretching as she yawns. Nadra totally doesn't notice her shirt riding up ever so slightly, the yellow-green fabric parting to reveal the dark brown skin of her midriff. She rapidly averts her gaze.
"Could have been better," Julius drones. "Wish everyone would hurry up so we can actually get started - there's nothing I hate more than mindless waiting around."
Nadra finds she agrees with his sentiment - she's full of nervous energy just begging to be freed. More than that, though, she needs to get her mind back on track. Pandora's a distraction, and Julius already gets on her nerves.
If patience is a virtue, Nadra might as well already be off to hell.
"Spar with me, won't you? I wanna see what you're made of," The District One girl grins, taking a sword off the rack. This corner of the training centre has been marked as their alliance's territory; the other volunteers sit quietly together murmuring things to one another by the fire-starting station, as if they're campers telling stories around a pyre and not vultures observing their prey. Their presence is disquieting, though Nadra's alliance has taken to their usual technique of showing off before the entire tribute roster that they should be feared.
(She's sure she'll mess something up. She has to eventually.)
Her insecurities won't be shown, though. Being Two means being unflinching. It means you're stone, unmoving and unyielding. She smiles, and laughs, because that's what Nadra Sidero does when challenged - it's her shield. Never mind the fact that when Nadra looks at the weapon rack and her mind blanks on what to pick up to show off that all goes out the window. Where everyone back at the Institute needs to pick a primary weapon by the time they're thirteen, Nadra never quite did. I'll use a baton because my sister is becoming a Peacekeeper and that's what she uses, but here in the Capitol, the closest thing to that on display is an unwieldy spiked mace that Nadra isn't even sure she'd be able to lift over her head. She follows Pandora's lead and picks up a sword, thinking it's better to be on equal footing, I suppose, though, for all she knows, the One girl is a prodigy with a blade, whereas Nadra is 'just good enough'. Just good enough with everything to be a middle of the pack choice for volunteer, always a jack of all trades but master of none.
(The closest thing she is to mastering is medicine, but the Games are no place for a doctor.)
(It's just a relief she hasn't taken the Hippocratic Oath yet, because she knows that when she gets to the arena she'll have to break the cardinal rule of "do no harm".)
As they get into a duelling stance, Pandora's grip on her own sword is just as unconfident as Nadra's, her fingers gripping the hilt too tight, like it'll fly away if she lets up for just a second. Her eyes flit from her hand to her face, and she grins sheepishly. "How about you get your actual preferred weapon, first?"
Pandora sighs incredulously. "Fuckin' hell, Sidero, is it really that obvious?"
"Let's just say I'm more an observer than a combatant. It's obvious to me, but I don't think many else would be able to tell."
Leaning on her sword casually, she glances over to the centre of the room, where Jehan and Quill are having a spectacular brawl, both of their fighting prowess on full display for the entire gym to see. Jehan's confidence with his longsword would be clear even to the most untrained eye in the room; Quill, too, radiates dominance with their maul in hand.
A beat of silence passes before Pandora opens her mouth again, and Nadra jumps at the sudden noise. "If you're not a good combatant, why were you chosen as volunteer?"
It's Nadra's turn to look incredulous as she whips around and laughs nervously. "Why w-was I? Rather bold of you, Adaeze; those are trade secrets, y'know."
"I just think it's strange. For what seems like all of time, Two's been the powerhouse. Gladiators valiantly entering the Games for glory. I consider myself somewhat of a Games historian, so it puzzles me that things have gone so spectacularly downhill for you in recent years. No offence, of course, just stating facts. You haven't had a victor for over a decade, but even before that, your longest losing streak is still fresh - fourteen years between Bellona Branca and Markus Kallaghan. I do wonder why that is."
The casualty of her tone doesn't stop Nadra's throat from going dry or her muscles from freezing in place, a deer in the headlights. The desperation of Two's plight is something the district has been trying to mask for so long, all their strategies to regain relevancy failing spectacularly. Nadra and Jehan had been told by Markus not to make a big deal out of it - but how could she not, now that she was to be the guinea pig for their newest experiment?
She chooses her words carefully. "We're set in our ways in Two. Nobody likes change, and Panem's been changing, y'know? It feels like… we're from a different era, not really adapting. I hope that things change soon."
Pandora tilts her head, studying Nadra's features. It feels like she's being held under a microscope. "Fascinating," she says, her tone light. "I agree that times are changing, with all these new academies popping up all over the place. It just seems that District Two as a whole doesn't agree - it's interesting that you're different. Refreshing."
Nadra feels heat rise to her cheeks and clears her throat, rolling her shoulders nonchalantly, taking hold of her sword once more. "Look, I wouldn't have volunteered if I wasn't proud of my district. Right now there's nothing I'd love more than to release all this pent up tension with a good fight, yeah?"
With a shrug and a smirk, Pandora takes stance once more. "If you're wondering, my preferred weapon is a whip, so I'm not using it because this duel would be utterly one-sided if I did."
Nadra believes her as soon as the other girl lunges forward, barely giving her time to parry her attack. Once she gets into her rhythm, though, Nadra finds she can hold her own relatively well, repeating steps she'd drilled into her head during training with Jehan and the other students at the Institute.
"You're good!" Pandora pants, narrowly dodging a jab aimed at her stomach. "Who the fuck told you you're not a combatant? Or are the standards in Two really that high?"
Taking a moment to lean back and twirl her blade show-offishly, Nadra shrugs. "I suppose so. Never really lived away from all the crippling expectations and such to know."
Her tone is light, but she means what she said and frankly doesn't wish to dwell on it. Pandora moves on, too, swiping at her again. If she could just do this all day, she would - but she knows in just a few days, it won't just be lighthearted fun, it'll be real. It'll be life or death. And though Nadra tells herself that she's ready, every time Pandora laughs or quips at her it feels like they could have maybe, just maybe, actually been friends had their circumstances been different.
(If both of them didn't have to die for Nadra's purpose to be fulfilled.)
For the most part, Nadra had stayed out of everyone else's ways on the first day of training. She had no intention of taking any position of leadership; no, that mantle had quickly been fought for by Julius and Quill, and sitting in the lounge with a towel wrapped around her head, it was clear from Jehan's report back to Markus that both of their mentors were frustrated.
"So you're meaning to tell us that you'd let the Seven girl or a seventeen year old take lead of the pack?" The older mentor sighs. Jehan's expression is entirely neutral, his hands tight fists in the pockets of his sweatpants as he attempts to explain.
"Our strategy for today was simply to show off our combat prowess to the other tributes. We sparred in pairs, and I know my own strengths - that being, I don't want to lead the pack. One and Seven can compete with each other as much as they want. My logic is that if we stay as the underdogs of the pack, it'll be easier to break away when things self-destruct - don't even try to tell me that they won't."
Another sigh from his mentor. Juno stares at Nadra, willing her to speak up, so she does. "Trust us. We're just trying a different strategy than normal. It'll pay off."
"We're strong enough to make it work," Jehan adds. "Nadra paired off with the One girl, and I with Seven. Both districts are pairs that have competing interests and ideologies, but Nadra and I are one unit. I feel like if either one of us tried to lead it'd end in disaster."
"You're probably right," Juno utters. "The last thing you want is to be stuck in a broken pack with a contractual obligation to your allies."
Cold attachment. Pretending you're friends, only to stab them in the back. Nadra can do that - or at least, she thinks she can. Even though she'd found herself enjoying Pandora's company after her mild probing into her psyche, she's under no illusion that the connection they have is real. It's an obligation - to get along with the Ones, as the Twos have for all-time - like how precious gemstones grow within rocks, their bond is a historical one. This, she's sure Pandora understands.
It's just whether Nadra has the ability to break that bond herself when push comes to shove.
On the second day of training, Julius gathers them all together by the survival stations, as the outer pack did yesterday. As if they have swapped places, they watch the five of them - Neptune, Venera, Eliana, Orion, and Jet - as they scrap (because spar would be too high of a word for the rats and their dirty fighting style).
There's a clear hierarchy in place. Neptune, overcompensating as he appears, seems to have taken leadership. There's some amount of respect for him, as an apostate of the traditional careers. He looks utterly pathetic, though, next to Venera, who seems to take sick delight in looking entirely harmless whilst shooting bullseye after bullseye with her crossbow. Eliana watches her with Jet, the two seeming to be fast developing a friendship, whilst Orion trails after Neptune.
"We need to get organised. Now. We may have shown off our skills yesterday, but today we mobilise an actual plan, one which I would be more than happy to take charge of." Julius begins.
"To tackle an outer district threat, we need an outer district leader," Quill interjects, provoking Julius to roll his eyes into the back of his skull. Quill continues, "I just think that the major problem with career packs over the last few years is that we Sevens aren't really listened to or treated like we're on equal footing with you. And you guys keep losing!"
Vitali, who sits between the two and who's been fiddling with ropes for the past five minutes, puts a hand on Quill's arm. "Don't rile them up," he mumbles, and Quill heaves out a sigh.
"All I'm saying is you need to adapt. Stop being so set in your ways, or you'll be left behind like the old Four."
Vitali then looks to Julius, whose annoyed expression softens ever so slightly. There's something going on there, Nadra thinks. The One boy exhales, his icy blue eyes directed at Nadra. "You've been awfully quiet, Two. What do you say?"
She knows what she's expected to say. She's expected to agree with him, that One and Two are exceptional, that they must always lead.
But she truly believes what she told Pandora yesterday. Two is moving forward, beyond their reputation of sending brutes in to plough down their competition before self-destructing in magnificent fashion.
"I think Quill is right," Nadra states simply. "Times are changing. I don't see any reason why their insight wouldn't be useful as our leader. Plus," she smiles sweetly at Julius, "being leader isn't the end all and be all. Maybe a change of pace would be beneficial to us all."
Jehan nods. She's done all the speaking for him, it seems.
Across their little circle, Julius opens his mouth to protest but is stopped by Vitali. Though his irritation is still clear, he relents. "Fine."
Nadra realises he's probably got a galactic ego because of his age - not often anymore are seventeen year olds picked to volunteer, especially not in One. It truly is overcompensation station with him and the Four boy, she thinks but doesn't say, because getting on his bad side is probably a terrible idea - though she suspects she already is for siding with Seven.
She'll keep her distance from Julius as much as possible. He reflects his unstable predecessors far too much to be safe around - though maybe, she thinks as they break away to practice their survival skills, it could be a strategy to keep her enemies closer.
Though her mother doesn't work with herbal remedies, Nadra would have been remiss to neglect that aspect of her medical training back home. Here at the plants station, she can recall with ease the correct herbs to make a blood-clotting poultice, or the common poisons to avoid at all costs. Though she knows most of this already, it doesn't hurt to read over the manuals just to remind herself, and Vitali seems to have the same idea.
They sit together as the rest of their allies tackle the gauntlet or continue yesterday's weapon training, though all six of them have had enough experience already that at this point, it's just showing off. Vitali is reluctant to meet Nadra's eyes as she attempts to make small talk - why he chose to pursue the Games, what sorts of plants they have in Seven, what's waiting for him back home.
She's decided that he doesn't want to be here. At least not like she does.
"My brother wanted this," he mutters, "but when I was decided to be better than him, he kind of lost it. He's currently sitting in a cell, awaiting ultimate judgement - I dunno, it's just killed all my passion for the Games."
Awkward situations like this are things Nadra generally tends to avoid. She's bad at being delicate at the best of times, but she's never had experience with anything of this degree to even know what to say. Does she try to console him, this stranger who she's prodded at until he said something she wasn't prepared for? Does she try to veer the conversation into lighter topics?
She's not sure.
(At least, if he doesn't want to win, that's one less competitor for Jehan. That's what she'll tell herself, even if his downcast expression makes her heart twinge in sympathy.)
"Why did you still volunteer, then?" Nadra decides to ask. She isn't sure if it's the right thing to say, continue prodding, but it's said now - and she can't reverse what is already set in stone.
The Seven boy looks like he's on the verge of tears, and Nadra knows she's fucked up. Does she say "oh, never mind" or wander away or just sit in place, waiting for him to spill over?
Vitali sighs shakily, though his hands still tremble in his lap. "Damon - my brother, that is - he took everything away from me. Killed most of the other male trainees - all of my friends back home, gone in an instant. I have no future without at least trying to win. Dying here… it's better than trying to go on the way things are."
(A miserable, tedious existence. Something she will do anything to avoid, even if it means signing her own death warrant come the morning.)
(Though the circumstances are different - though Nadra's motivations are leagues shallower, the stakes underground in comparison, embarrassingly so - it's uncanny how similar their reasoning is.)
At least he'll be thankful for death when it comes, she rationalises.
"I think I understand," she replies.
(She doesn't. For her, staying in Two would have meant going on to keep the peace like Sora, or heal the sick like her mother. From what Vitali is saying, it seems like he doesn't even have options.)
(Nadra had options. She's just too selfish in the desire for ultimate freedom to even think about taking them.)
(Well, at least she did have options before she threw them all away.)
For the rest of the second day of training, it felt like Nadra was going through the motions. Vitali had left her soon after their pitiful conversation, and she hadn't felt like doing much else afterwards - her hands working on autopilot as she tied a tourniquet around a dummy's arm or threw a javelin at a target.
She hadn't spoken to Vitali again. Instead, he'd returned to Julius's side, the two boys engaged in hush conversation. They weren't talking about her, were they?
It feels like everything is falling apart. Back at the Institute, she didn't have problems like this - her classmates enjoyed her company, and though she wouldn't consider anyone but Jehan a friend, they still felt able to talk to her and have a laugh. She's quickly finding that the Hunger Games aren't exactly the place for that sort of thing - the mood is downcast, tense, and even though nothing is happening yet Nadra can't help but find herself on edge. Day three of training finds her sitting with Jehan as the hours tick down to their private sessions, and though she knows what the plan is, it feels like there's still some disconnect between her physical motions and what her brain logically knows she should be doing. She just hopes it won't screw her over.
She should do something more productive. Pay more attention to the anti-careers, their skills and their group dynamics, though from their discussions at the start of today she knows that's what has Quill and Pandora occupied. Just like when Nadra was a child, trying to find what she actually enjoyed but failing to feel any passion, running out of time before she turned eighteen and all chances of a free ride as a victor were out of the window, she feels like she's got no purpose. Everyone else knows what they're doing, but she's falling behind again.
(She knows she's here to be the backbone, the support, the healer. But is her heart really in it? Is her heart really in anything?)
Even so, Jehan sits at her side, sensing that she's conflicted, and he lets her take her time. It hasn't always been this way, but even though part of her wishes he'd leave her to her brooding to do something useful with the rest of their allies, she's equally thankful for his companionship. It would have been silly of her to expect him to do anything but stay at her side when he knew she was going through it.
Quietly, almost as if he was shy, Jehan suggests, "Let's do something fun. Y'know how we used to do dumb kid shit after training? Well, the ropes course is kinda like monkey bars, right?"
Nadra tilts her head and stares at him for a second. He stares back, and raises his eyebrows quizzically - and she can't keep herself from cracking up. She giggles, like a child, and Jehan's lips quirk up as she concedes, "That does sound fun."
"See, told you," Jehan says, heaving himself onto his feet and holding out his hand for Nadra to take. He pulls her up like she weighs nothing, and she doesn't spare a second before she starts dashing to the ropes course.
"Race you!" She yells, not caring for what anyone thinks of her doing so - if the outer districts wonder what a District Two volunteer is doing frivolously running about with her district partner, then let them.
The only thing going through her mind right now is how fast she can haul herself across the ropes; her existential dread thrown out the window, though she knows she'll come back down to earth when they're each called to present to the Gamemakers.
Despite her head start, Jehan quickly surpasses her, jumping over a bench as she swerves a weapons rack and past the Six girl and Eight boy. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the trainers looking on in bewilderment, but she ignores them as they approach the ropes, and she playfully shoves past Jehan to launch herself upwards.
They're both laughing the whole time, and though her arms strain under the weight of swinging her body from rope to rope, she can't help but put her whole heart into winning this race. They'd do this all the time back in Two, turning training into a game, and though Jehan overtakes her (as he always inevitably does), she can't really bring herself to care.
It may be their final day of training, but she's finally been reminded of why she's here. One final hurrah with her best friend, the boy who can cheer her up out of a slump without even trying, who despite his cold demeanour is nothing but a ray of sunshine in Nadra's world. And when he reaches the end of the course two metres ahead of her, she can't be mad, because he smiles so wide and waits for her, egging her on.
When she hits the ground, she feels a little dizzy with adrenaline. Her face hurts from grinning the entire time, and she leans up against her district partner, his arm finding a home around her shoulders. They must look like fools - running about the training centre like kids, laughing without a care in the world, ignoring the despaired and bewildered looks of the other tributes. But it feels like Nadra's finally come back down to earth. What's important here isn't the thirteen kids ripped away from their families by the reaping, or the nine others who have stepped forward to risk their lives for victory. It's just her and Jehan.
"I win," he pants, goofy smile still plastered on his freckled face. He looks like he can do no wrong, like the shining hero Two needs.
And in that moment, Nadra is sure that she's okay with him winning again.
Lunch with their allies passes as it has the past two days, but Nadra's gained back some of her spunk. When Quill and Julius grilled them on their behaviour, all she could say was "Don't you think it's to our benefit to make everyone think we're careless and ridiculous so they underestimate us?" The fact of the matter is that despite Two's years of training, they're the underdogs. One and Seven have more living victors than them, and the outers are quickly catching up. Years of pretending like they're at the top of the food chain has only resulted in hubris being Two's downfall. "It's a new strategy."
Quill couldn't find much issue with it, but Julius seemed sceptical. Still, it mattered little when they were called to line up for their private sessions, the only thought in Nadra's head being how the only people in this room that truly mattered were herself and Jehan.
Despite that, when Pandora steps into the examination room, Nadra beams at her and wishes her good luck, to which she could swear the One girl blushes at. It wasn't her intention, but what does Nadra ever do purposefully?
(She'll purposefully try to underperform in her private session. That's always been the plan. There's a lot she could do with her twelve minutes; show them all she's capable of. But she won't, because Juno has hammered into her head that she needs to uplift Jehan at every chance. It's not a promise she plans on breaking.)
The thing that annoys her the most is the wait. It's almost half an hour by the time both Pandora and Julius are done; whilst the One girl put a hand on Nadra's arm and wished her luck when it was her time, her partner simply preened like a peacock and wandered back off to the training floor without a word. Clearly, he'd decided he was simply too good for the pathetic Twos or the inferior Sevens.
"Nadra Sidero, District Two. Please enter the exam room promptly for your private session."
When her announcement rings out over the intercom, Jehan gives her hand a squeeze and she enters, taking a deep breath to steel her nerves. She's not here to impress the Gamemakers, strictly speaking - she's here to do the bare minimum for a volunteer of her stature.
The woman who stands above the room is tall, with blonde hair dyed in multiple shades of blue and purple, and by the way she's dressed Nadra knows she's the Head Gamemaker, Barathea Apsinthos. Of course Nadra's done her research - she knows that whilst she's new to the position, her father once held the position of Head Gamemaker himself, and she carries his unorthodox legacy.
(If only Nadra was so happy following in the footsteps of her mother.)
Her voice is sultry and detached as she explains, "Welcome, Miss. Sidero. You have twelve minutes to demonstrate all you have learned over the past three days, with the aim of impressing me. You may ask for any additional equipment or a trainer to aid you if you so desire. Best of luck."
Nadra nods once before she gets to work. Her main focus is on her medical knowledge - maybe it'll surprise the Gamemakers that she doesn't focus entirely on physical prowess like most careers do, or maybe it won't. She minds little when she drags their medical dummy to the centre of the room and performs an amputation and tourniquet, sutures a laceration, and demonstrates CPR. By the time she's done, she figures there isn't much time to call a trainer and spar, so she runs over to the gauntlet and completes it twice, surprised at her ability to not stumble through it without Jehan there to keep her focus.
She's somewhat out of breath when her timer rings, her attention brought back to the Gamemaker box. "Thank you for your time, Miss. Sidero. You may leave." Head Gamemaker Apsinthos declares, her face a blank mask. There's no way to tell if she enjoyed the demonstration or not - not that it matters now. It's done, and there's no going back.
"Go alright?" Jehan asks when she exits.
"Fine, everything according to plan," Nadra replies, Jehan's own announcement ringing out over the intercom. "You'll smash it."
"I hope so," and then he's gone, leaving Nadra to return to the District One pair as she waits.
She's fine with this. She's sure she'll be the only career who didn't do anything spectacular to prove she can kill people - no, Nadra has shown what she's capable of, and that's helping her allies to victory. Healing. Staying out of harm's way.
Unspectacular is all Nadra is - middle of the pack, not on the same level as any other volunteer in these Games. But she thinks she's finally fine with that.
"And now, we're onto District Two! Our stone-cold soldiers! Firstly, Miss. Nadra Sidero has earned a nine - nothing to be sniffed at!"
She stares disbelieving at the screen - at the bright shining smile of Chantilly Apsinthos, announcing her sister's gradings to the country. How the fuck did that constitute a nine?
"Congrats, Nadra," Juno drawls, "let's just hope that yours is the lowest score of the alliance."
"- and her district partner, Mr. Jehan Claes, has earned an eight. Well done, Two!"
Nadra can't help the grimace her face breaks into, though it's mirrored by the entire population of the room. Juno's gripping her champagne flute so hard it looks to be on the verge of shattering. Pandora's ten and Julius's eleven were to be expected of careers - god, what did Jehan do differently? How did he fuck up?
Careers who score lower than a nine are usually written off by sponsors. The stakes are too high to be paying out for someone who's gone through years of training only to get the same score as the best outer district kid - at least, with the outers, they have the advantage of being supported as underdogs. Though that was their strategy, Markus's disappointment portrays that they still wanted them to display Two's prowess.
They wanted Jehan to score higher than her. Their golden boy, underperforming.
(Their sacrifice, who will no doubt have better odds on the scoreboard come morning.)
Nadra expects Juno to scream at them, her body already tense in preparation, but all she does is drop her glass on the table and walk away. As she leaves her field of view, all Nadra can do is let out a shaky exhale and turn her gaze back to Jehan, his face neutral. How can he not be panicking?
It's one point. One point of difference between their scores. But one point is all it takes to put a wrench in their strategy. When it's Seven's turn to be given their scores, Nadra's despair deepens as Quill scores an eleven, and Vitali a nine.
Two's scored the lowest. Nadra realises now that they're not the underdogs, not in the eyes of the nation; they're underperforming for the umpeenth year in a row, and the victory will no doubt be awarded to Quill or Julius or one of the anti-careers, with their equally high scores and real underdog reputation.
It's enough to pull the rug from under her feet, forgetting the acceptance of her fate that had washed over her just hours before.
"So," Markus speaks, his voice rough and his eyes disapproving, too reminiscent of her father when she failed to complete her chores, "you've got your work cut out for interview night. You've got everything to gain, but it's your last chance before the Games begin. Don't fuck it up, okay? Capiche?"
Nadra shakes her head rapidly, trying not to feel sick to her stomach. "Yes, yes. Absolutely. I understand."
Markus's gaze turns to Jehan, whose mouth is a thin line. "Yes, sir."
"Good," their mentor concedes. "I'll go drag Juno out of her room and convince her that you're not a lost cause. Get some rest."
The clack of his shoes against the cold marble as he leaves the two of them sitting in silence only exacerbates the tension between them. As Chantilly finishes up reading the scores and signs off, the Capitol anthem playing in her wake, she slumps with her head in her hands.
"What did you do?" Is all she can muster.
"I didn't go off script, if that's what you're asking."
"I'm asking what you did, Jehan. You don't have to play funny with me. You're the Institute's top student - you could have easily scored higher." Nadra asserts.
"Well, what did you do?" He says back, not quite snapping but certainly sounding almost accusatory.
It isn't something she appreciates. "I did some medical shit with a dummy and ran the gauntlet. I did nothing that demonstrated any combat skills at all - trust me, I have no idea why they scored me above you."
Jehan's shoulders slump, and Nadra immediately feels like disappearing into the crease in the sofa. She's not an angry person, never has been - why she responded with an equally harsh tone, she doesn't know.
"I'm sorry," she says, oh-so quiet, almost shy. She's always prided herself on picking her words carefully, but the pressure of her situation is boiling up again, and she doesn't know what to do.
"It's fine," he replies, "I don't know what happened. Maybe the Gamemakers are just playing a sick joke."
What escapes Nadra's lips isn't quite a laugh, but it's halfway there. "Seems like something they'd do. We can still make it up tomorrow, though, right?"
"Right."
And so, though more uneasy, they sit together, huddled on the lounge. They should take the elevator downstairs, discuss strategy with their allies, but Nadra is reluctant. Jehan shows no desire to, either. After tomorrow, they won't have much of a chance just to be alone together, and they might as well treasure that time.
They're not kids anymore. Reality must set in at some point, but Nadra will clasp at any sense of normalcy left before it's truly ripped away for good - and that normalcy is the boy at her side, her best friend. No matter what, she'll stay right there.
Everyone is gorgeous, from Pandora's glimmering red gown to Vitali's dashing emerald suit. Nadra tries to keep her head above water, face frozen in a smile that she isn't sure is entirely convincing.
"I believe we should all get on the same page regarding our interview angles," Quill says as the six of them leave the prep floor and enter the elevator to the theatre. They press the correct buttons and turn to the group, standing tall like a sergeant expecting great things from their soldiers. "Ones, you start."
"I'll be discussing my figure skating career, obviously," Julius begins, cutting off Pandora before she even opens her mouth.
"And avoiding discussing your brother too, I bet," she smirks, to which the One boy's face drops to a scowl.
Well, there's something terrible there that I really do not want to be a part of, Nadra thinks as it's obvious Julius is holding back from cussing Pandora out. "Don't you fucking dare mention him, harlot," - it seems Nadra thought too soon, because the One pair almost start to throw hands.
The elevator, thankfully, dings and comes to a halt before the energy can become any more rancid; Pandora immediately steps out, and Nadra follows with haste. In the corridor their mentors are already waiting, discussing things absentmindedly - Nadra vaguely remembers Markus saying they'd give them some words of advice earned from working with One and Seven before their interviews. Juno is busy canoodling with One's Arabella Silvio, an embarrassing display - how anyone is comfortable exchanging saliva with someone in the presence of their peers, she has frankly no fucking idea. Markus, at least, seems to have been discussing something of import with Yvonne Huxley from Seven, the older woman tall and intimidating as she greets her tributes.
Nadra uneasily steps up to Juno as Jehan begins talking with Markus. Pandora's by her side, the two girls awkwardly waiting for their mentors to get off each other - they share a glance, the One girl sighing dramatically. Her partner is already going off on one to Decorum Vescovi, the woman nodding but not quite listening to what he has to say, almost as if she's tuned out his self-absorbed ranting already. Don't blame her, honestly.
Pandora clears her throat abruptly, and their mentors finally acknowledge their presence. At least her's is just as useless as Nadra's.
If I were to become a mentor, I sure wouldn't do shit like this, she thinks as Juno gives Arabella one last kiss and playfully shoves her in Pandora's direction. Ew?
"Hi," Nadra starts, "all done?"
Juno scowls, her dark lipstick smudged across her cheek. "Yes, thank you very much."
"We're supposed to make sure we're on the same page. I mean, we started trying to discuss our angles in the elevator here, but-"
"Who cares about everyone else's? There's nothing more to be said about your's or Jehan's; you're gonna go up there and be as mellow as possible, right? And Jehan's gonna outshine the fuck out of you, yeah? Yeah."
Her breath smells of liquor, and Nadra just stares on with a disbelieving grimace. God, can't she even pretend that she cares?
It almost makes Nadra want to break script just to stick it to her.
I can't do that. It'd jeopardise everything.
(But at the same time, she can see Jehan speaking with Markus from the corner of her eye, uncharacteristically nervous. Nadra knows he's never been a fan of the stage, never been charismatic or charming like her. If she doesn't put in an effort, will he really be able to do any better?)
"I understand." Nadra states, keeping her voice as steady as possible.
Juno stumbles, her heels not helping her balance, before steadying herself against the wall. "Good. Now let's get the fuck outta here, there's a show to attend!"
Nadra can't start the walk towards the backstage area fast enough. Her purple dress is tight around her middle and her ridiculous heeled boots make her ankles twist ever so slightly with each step, but still. Pandora quickly catches up to her, equally adamant to get away from her mentor.
"Unbelievable, aren't they?" She wheezes.
"Juno and Arabella? Yeah, my god." Nadra says, slowing down ever so slightly. "I dunno about you, but Juno's been no help at all."
"Oh man, let me tell you. Arabella's a fuckin' crone, I bet she wishes she was mentoring Julius. I think she hates me. No clue why."
"I mean - Juno has a decent enough reason for not wanting to help me," Nadra stammers, to which Pandora quirks an eyebrow.
"Yeah? And what would that be?"
Her tone is light, but Nadra can't help but feel nervous, like this is a continuation of the interrogation she'd been subjected to on the first day of training. She'd been told not to air her arrangement to anyone, but there's something about the One girl that tells her she probably won't judge.
It's just a matter of wording it.
"I'll tell you after our interviews, okay?"
"Damn, Nadra, gotta edge me like that? I see how it is."
Nadra laughs nervously, unwanted heat rising to her cheeks. "Look, I just think it's better saved for when there are less people on our heels," she says, turning her head to see the rest of their alliance following.
Jehan gives her a wink, and Nadra's mind bluescreens.
What the fuck does that mean?
They turn another corner and reach the waiting room. The pair from District Five are already there with their mentors, and Nadra tenses when she recognises one of them as last year's victor, Klein, the boy who'd thrown his token at one of the Twos and slit the other one's throat in the bloodbath. He's chatting with the girl - Venera, of course Nadra remembers her name, she's the one who's all but leading the anti-careers. The tall, blonde-haired volunteer whose serene expression unnerves Nadra to her core. The scrawny little guy - name began with a Z…? He's not all that important, stubbornly refusing to speak with his own mentor. Venera catches Nadra's eye, and her smile and coy wave make her hairs stand on end. As Nadra and Pandora pass her to take their places at the front of the queue, the Five girl continues talking to her mentor, almost as if they were never there to begin with.
"What's her deal?" Pandora whispers as they take their seats.
"Surely you remember what Five did to Two last year," Nadra sighs, exasperated. God, her dress is too tight.
"Ohhhhh. Yeah, right. I can't believe they're taunting you. You'd expect at least some grace and decorum from trainees, but they have no respect."
In the past, before training centres were allowed to be built across any district that could gather the manpower to run one, there was nothing stopping the traditional careers from taunting the outer districts as much as they pleased. Now that there's a mobilised, reliable threat each year, it's no surprise that they've taken to the same behaviour.
(Two has always touted that they're paragons of valour and honour, and One of chivalry and elegance; but really, neither of them produce victors that exemplify those traits. They're no different from the outer district tributes they try so hard to differentiate themselves from. That much, Nadra is aware of.)
(She can't decide if she's alright with that or not. All she hopes is that when Jehan wins - because God, she's still telling herself that he'll win - he'll change that reputation for the better.)
The man in question takes his seat beside her. "Sorry," he mumbles, "I was just sending off our mentors."
"Oh, no problem," Nadra replies, "Markus tell you anything useful?"
"The same he's been telling me for the last couple months."
"I can't say I'm surprised."
Julius is sitting with the Sevens, though he'll have to return to Pandora's side before long. Soon enough, the rest of the tributes begin filing in. The pair from Three stop to talk with the Five boy before sitting beside Nadra and Jehan, the little girl climbing all over her playfully annoyed district partner. Nadra would think it was cute if she didn't know they'd probably be dead come morning.
"You good?" Jehan asks, seeing Nadra stare.
"Yeah, yeah," she says, "just observing the other tributes. Didn't do enough of it in training."
"They're all in their little alliances," he notes, "off-putting the inevitable. The only ones that matter are the big group. Ultimately, they don't have the same level of training as us, so I wouldn't be worried."
"The whole reason I'm here is because we're worried," Nadra groans. "Don't forget that."
Jehan looks slightly taken aback. "Right. Sorry."
The rabble is quickly silenced by a producer entering the room like a man on a mission. "All tributes, take your seats. Interviews will commence in two minutes; when you hear the Master of Ceremonies call your name, you'll have three minutes to sell yourself to the entirety of Panem. Best of luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."
It's less than ten minutes before Nadra's interview, and within that time, she hears of Pandora's scholarly pursuits and the great honour she's been bestowed by taking part in history herself, and that Julius (as he so proudly declared) is a figure skater who hopes that the Games will further forward his career. When Chantilly attempted to bring up his age and how he got the position of volunteer, however, he stormed off in a huff, awkwardly leaving Nadra's own interview to commence a minute early.
"You'll kill it," Jehan whispers as she stands and makes her way to the stage entrance.
"Hopefully I won't kill anyone until tomorrow," she says with a wink.
The lights blare and the crowd roars as she makes her way onstage, and she grins as widely as she can. It's overwhelming, yes, but when she sits down on the seat opposite the golden radiance that is the Master of Ceremonies, she's able to block it all out. Focus on what's right in front of you, she tells herself, and stay on script.
"Welcome, Nadra!" Chantilly says, her voice melodic and enthralling. "How have you found your time in the Capitol so far?"
An opener used for every tribute, every year. "Wonderful. It's everything I dreamed and more," she says, maintaining her smile. "Though I do wish I hadn't sucked in my stomach when my stylists took my measurements; this dress is far too tight."
The crowd laughs, and Nadra isn't quite sure why, but she rolls with the punches.
"Oh god, I totally get it," Chantilly laughs, waving her hand. "I still make that mistake too. So, onto the real stuff - what's life like for you back in Two?"
"Well," she begins, formulating her response, "Mostly boring, really. My mother is a doctor, and my dad is her secretary. My sister joined the Peacekeepers a few years back, but when she was still around we trained together. I think if I wasn't here right now, I'd be expected to follow in her footsteps, but with all due respect, I think I'd probably hate it."
"Oh, yeah?" The golden woman asks, "That's absolutely fascinating. I can't say I relate - I mean, both of my fathers were Gamemakers, so my siblings and I have been raised to work in the Games our whole lives. Why is it that you're so hesitant?"
Why? God, there are so many reasons. Nadra waits a moment, fiddling with her hands in her lap. "I hate committing to things - by that, I mean I like having options. If I went into Peacekeeping, I'd be stuck doing the same thing every day for twenty years, y'know? And my mom - I love her, of course, but she's also stuck doing the same thing day in, day out. There aren't many paths I can go down that offer me ultimate freedom. Outside of the Games, that is. That's why I volunteered."
"You speak like my father," Chantilly says, enthralled. "That's a good thing, by the way. So, your motivations for being here are entirely to do with wanting to be happy in your life? And you'd risk everything for it?"
"Yes," Nadra says, without hesitation. "I'm loyal to Two, of course. And I'll do everything in my power to help us regain our standing as the Games' top dogs. But to me, the prospect of living a life I'm unsatisfied with is worse than not living at all."
"Well, with your impressive training score, I'm certain you'll do fantastically," Chantilly beams. "How have you been getting along with your fellow careers?"
"Well," she laughs awkwardly, "I can't lie that it's been a handful. Julius, for one, seems to think we're all painfully incompetent. I've enjoyed Pandora's company, though. I think we'll manage to make it work."
"And we did hear from Julius that you're not allying with Four anymore - is that right?"
"Indeed it is," she sighs. "It feels like we're breaking tradition a lot this year. I think it's probably for the best, though, considering how many tributes nowadays identify with the title 'career'."
"I do love to hear tributes' takes on changes to the Games system," Chantilly chirps, "Really, it's one of the best things about the job! Really itches the Gamemaker in me." She waits just a moment, allowing the crowd to react before she eases back into her seat. "And finally, Nadra, I absolutely must ask: other than your family and your own personal happiness, is there anything else that matters to you?"
Nadra takes a deep breath. "My district partner - Jehan. He's my best friend. There's nobody I'd rather be in these Games with."
When the buzzer goes off, the crowd cheers spectacularly, in a way she never expected. Was her story really all that, or is this a normal reaction? All of her knowledge of previous Games flies straight out the window as she curtseys and rushes off stage, heart pounding in her ears.
She tries not to trip down the steps as she leaves through the right wing exit, where Pandora is waiting with a bright smile. Julius, however, is nowhere to be seen.
"Nadra! You did so well!"
She grins sheepishly as the One girl grabs her by the hand and drags her off to the backstage seating area. "I did?"
"Of course you did!" Pandora's excitement is so palpable, and Nadra isn't quite sure what to do with it. She hadn't meant to impress anyone - all she was doing was telling the truth.
Pandora's still holding her hand as they sit together, watching the live feed of Jehan's interview on the wall-mounted screen. Nadra knows she should pay attention to it, but her mind wanders to the One boy's absence.
"Where's Julius?"
Pandora groans. "Bastard got mad and ran off to our room. He's probably crying to Decorum like the little pansy he is."
"Why was someone with such an obviously fragile ego selected in the first place?" Nadra can't help but ask.
"Fuck if I know. The Arcadian's been going to shit since that bitch from the 162nd burned it to the ground - we're still recovering from it, really."
Right. It wasn't just Two that was struggling lately.
"That's awful," she says. "Nothing like that's happened to us, but things still suck."
Her attention is brought back to the screen - Jehan looking stiff, hardily emoting like she had.
What is he doing?
Pandora looks too, Nadra's confusion expressed clearly on her face. "What's up?"
Nadra startles slightly before relaxing again, though she can still feel her muscles tensing back up. "He's freezing up."
On screen, Jehan stutters his answers and laughs awkwardly at Chantilly's attempts to coax answers from his lips.
"So, Jehan, why'd you volunteer?"
"Your family back home, what are they like?"
"How have you been getting along with your alliance - other than Nadra, of course."
He's hardly saying anything, Chantilly visibly frustrated with his aversion to speech. He's going off script, and it's falling apart again just when she thought everything was all figured out.
Nadra sighs shakily before looking back to the One girl. "Look. I've only told my parents this, so please don't air it for our whole alliance to hear, okay?"
"You've got my attention," she says, eyes wide.
"I've never been considered worthy of volunteering. I'm a middle of the pack trainee at best. And I know he's not acting it, but Jehan's been top of our class for years now, and so choosing him to be the male tribute was a no-brainer. But all these years, when the Institute picks both top students to volunteer, they've ended up self-destructing - so, they picked me to go with him, because whilst I'm average at best, I'm his only friend, and -"
"Nadra," Pandora interrupts her. "Good lord, are you okay?"
Nadra doesn't notice how much she's shaking until then. Is the tightness of her dress exacerbating her panic? "And all I'm really good at is medicine. Our mentors want me to die for him, and I said yes because I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I don't even think I'd have a life if I wasn't here now." She thinks she's starting to cry - she doesn't know what the wetness on her cheeks could be otherwise. "Fuck, my dad never even wanted me to train for the Games. He enrolled me and my sister in the Institute to make friends, for fuck's sake."
She lets out one more shuddering breath before burying her face in her hands. Pandora is left sitting at her side awkwardly, not sure what to do with her hands but ultimately deciding to wrap them around Nadra's back. "It's okay," she mumbles. "You're fine."
"I can't let him see me like this."
"Come on, then," Pandora pleads, her voice soft. "His time's almost up. What are you gonna do?"
Nadra can't decide. Jehan's voice may be unconfident despite how she knows he feels about the Games, but she is the polar opposite. She acts like she has everything together, but at the end of the day, she still doesn't want to die like she's tried to convince herself.
Or does she? Honestly, if she could drop dead right now to avoid seeing Jehan, that might be preferable.
It's almost like she's frozen in place, her mind moving but her body unable to keep up or follow orders. As they hear Chantilly signing Jehan off to the rest of Panem, Pandora hastily wipes Nadra's face with the hem of her dress, covering it in brown foundation and glittery violet eyeshadow, but she seemingly doesn't care. "Get your shit together if you're not gonna move," she hisses, though there's no malice in her tone.
"Okay," Nadra exhales, sniffing. Is this the first time she's cried about her predicament since that first night, when she burst into tears and wept into her mother's jacket like a little girl at the thought of being nothing but a pawn in someone else's Game, even if that Game was her own best friend's?
…
She thinks she hates it here.
Nadra puts on her bravest face and tries to relax as Jehan enters the backstage. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes immediately find Nadra's face and he rushes over. "Nadra, are you okay?"
"She's fine," Pandora answers for her, standing up to meet his height. "Just tired. I think you should both go get some rest, don't worry about sticking about to watch the rest of the interviews. If you're up to it, I'll come up to your floor and let you know what you missed when they're done?"
Nadra isn't sure if she's thankful or resentful of the fact that Pandora's taken the situation into her own hands, made the choice for her. Jehan looks like he has so much to say, but is simply too tired himself to speak it; instead, he huffs and murmurs an "alright," not in the mood to argue.
He reaches down to take Nadra's hand and heaves her up off the couch; she wobbles slightly on her heels, but steadies herself against his arm.
"We're gonna have to talk, y'know. When you're a little calmer," he says, taking no joy in the fact.
"I know," she responds, and without thanking the One girl, the pair from District Two make their way over to the elevator, a dreadful pit forming in Nadra's stomach.
When Nadra was a little girl, first enrolled at the Marmoreal Institute, she hated training. The strict exercise regimens, scheduled classes on history and politics where she was forced to sit in one place for hours at a time. Forced by her teachers to try to focus and pressured by her father to stick with it because this was the best place to be educated in Two - it was unbearable. By the time she was seven, she'd begged her parents to let her quit. But then, that same year, she'd watched Juno Heimdall and Chrysoberyl Alcides enter the arena, and she was enthralled by Juno's beauty and confidence. And though she'd turned on him when it was just the two of them left, that had only seemed like the natural conclusion - only one could make it out of the arena alive, but it was testament to Two's power that no matter who'd killed who on that fateful eighth day in the arena, they'd be getting a victor. Karmen had won when Nadra was a baby, so this was truly the first time she'd seen live proof of what her future could look like. And back then, though perhaps it was through rose-tinted glasses of a child enthralled, Nadra had idolised Juno. Her life had seemed wonderful - she travelled to the Capitol whenever she wished, and lived in a lavish mansion in the mountains that Nadra's parents could never dream of being able to afford, and she'd never have to work another day in her life. There seemed to be no downsides to her perfect life, one that Nadra decided she wanted more than anything.
And though when she grew older, only barely made it through the sixteens bracket that sent the majority of their year off to Peacekeeper training, meeting her idol in the flesh and seeing she wasn't all she'd fabricated her to be was of little deterrence at that point. Juno was horrible, yes, but training for the Games - for this dream of ultimate freedom - had become Nadra's only passion. She'd abandoned every other venture in pursuit of a life where after just one painful month she'd be set for the rest of her days.
Now, she was in Chrysoberyl's shoes. Had he truly been ready to die for Juno? What had he thought in those last few moments after the twenty-second cannon rang out through the arena, his district partner the last thing standing in his way from returning home to his two younger sisters and his parents who loved him? It was something she'd never know, and though they'd tried their best to prepare her for her fate, the fact of the matter was that Nadra had always seen herself inhabiting Juno's shoes. A victor. Hopefully not such an unpleasant person, but never the second placer.
(Nadra had always been in second place. She'd always been in last place, only just scraping by out of sheer passion and willforce. She wasn't meant to be a victor, not now, not ever, but still, deep down in her heart she aches and weeps for it. God, what it would be like to not be an afterthought for once - she loved Sora, yes, but it had always seemed to her that her older sister was the one truly making her parents proud.)
(And to think, they hadn't even wanted her to volunteer. Her father was in hysterics when he'd seen her off in the Justice Building, a fact that Nadra has tried so hard to push to the back of her mind.)
The way Juno had lost it when she and Jehan returned to the District Two floor early still made her shake as she sat alone on the roof, the wind biting through the thin silk of her interview dress. She didn't remember how she stormed off to the elevator or made her way up, or when she'd realised Jehan wasn't following. She couldn't verbalise how she was feeling, a deer in the headlights in the face of her former idol's rage. It's like everything has shattered, any hope of coming out of these Games wholly herself falling to the ground like the tears that haven't stopped flowing since she got up here.
The city lights are too beautiful for this, she thought aimlessly, staring out across the skyline of the Capitol. Their celebrations were not for her; no, they'd predict the girl from Five to take the crown, the careers this year brushed off as a disorganised, broken mess.
And rightfully so.
Nadra was a stupid girl with ridiculous, frivolous dreams. It was only right if she just gave up whilst she was at it -
The creek of the door leading to the rooftop makes her freeze in place. She'd recognise those footsteps anywhere.
The boy who sits beside her is more put-together, the bedrock she'd been holding onto for dear life. Just a day ago, Nadra had told herself that she'd gladly die for him; but now, in hysterics over the idea that her life was nothing but a waste, she doesn't know what to say. She can't even look at him, her eyes still stuck to the palms of her hands.
"Hey, Nads," he says, oh-so quietly. A nickname she hadn't heard for years. "I'm sorry about Juno."
"You need to stop apologising," she sniffs. "I'm sick of hearing it."
"I'm -" he bristles, correcting himself. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm scared too."
Nadra removes her hands from her face, finally looking at him.
"Have I ever told you my reasoning for volunteering?"
She tenses, looking back down to her lap in shame. Had he…? For someone who claimed to be his best friend, Nadra realises with growing horror that she's been so focussed on her own happiness that she'd failed to consider Jehan's own deepest motivations. She just took for granted that he was good enough of a person to throw it all away for.
And after all, it wasn't like he'd told the Master of Ceremonies, either.
She shakes her head, and Jehan sighs deeply, his hands clasped together in his own lap.
"It's kind of pathetic, really," he chuckles, "My dad's always been harsh on us. Me and all my brothers, that is. There's nothing he wants more than a victor, see, and neither Aloys or Mislav got the volunteer position. I mean, Mislav was pretty close last year."
"I remember." Nadra mutters.
Jehan hums. "I've never been a natural. I'm really only good at pure brawn, but you know that. Dad sees us fully embodying the spirit of the old, strength-focussed Two as the only thing that matters, so we never really questioned it. But here, y'know… it all feels so fake. Like Two is nothing anymore, and we're just grasping at a concept that's long-gone. Does that make any sense at all?"
It's all an illusion. Yes, Nadra understands. She nods accordingly.
"It's just… This is something that's been forced upon me. And I've come to realise that to Two, to my dad - I'm nothing but a statistic. If I die here, I have younger brothers who'll be trying for the position again. And Two will just do some different strategy to win another victor. They don't really care about me as a person. Often, I hardly feel like much of my own person at all."
The guilt Nadra feels weighs heavily on her back like a boulder. All this time, the Games are something she's wanted more than anything, something she pursued despite her family's wishes otherwise. It's the complete opposite reality from what Jehan has been living in, one where his own autonomy has mattered little in the predetermination of his fate.
Jehan didn't want the Games. He could have succeeded in life without volunteering, putting his life on the line for someone else's machinations, if only his father hadn't forced him into the role. Nadra, however, had the choice to stand down, but couldn't see any future for herself without the Games.
They're two sides of the same coin.
She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Often, when overcome with great emotion, she finds herself mute, unable to find the correct words to express what she feels. And now, of all times, she curses herself for being that weak.
"I just don't know what I'd do without them. It's my own fault, like. Nobody in my life ever pressured me to volunteer. Hell, my mother wanted me to stay working at her clinic, and dad only ever wanted me to be like my sister. I chose this path. I only have myself to blame for the fact I'm here."
A beat passes between them before Jehan responds. "Maybe it is your fault, but it's also my fault for not refusing the offer. Or for not trying harder to convince you to step down. I just knew how important this is to you, and I couldn't bring myself to say anything."
Nadra huffs out a sardonic laugh. "It really is cruel that we're friends, huh?"
"Yeah," Jehan mumbles, "it really is. I don't think winning would be worth it if you weren't there for me to come home to."
She feels tears welling up in her eyes again. "I don't know if I could either."
And so, the boy wraps his arm around the girl's shoulders, and they sit together in peace for what might be the final time. They're not just the 169th pair of tributes belonging to District Two - they're two kids, crushed by unreachable expectations and unsurmountable fear. It's then that Nadra and Jehan make a silent, unspoken pact - that they are together, for better or worse. And they'll stay together, even though that means that they'll break their promise to their district.