Chapter 13: Steel Promises
No true victory is ever anything but bloodstained.
The thought trailed down the length of Venatrix's blade, dripping blood into the dirt. This was what she had been training for, after all.
Above her, deathly silence wrapped around the arena as the events unfolded; a brief exchange of words between the Selection Committee.
Her father didn't even have the decency to wipe the smile off his face; she could hear it in his voice as he announced her the winner of the duel. The throng of people howled around her like a pack of wild animals, their voices erupting into an insurmountable chaos, slicing through the chilly air. Her ears rang from the noise, from the echo of Alystra's previous blows.
Tearing her eyes away from her father, Venatrix glanced towards the girl.
A pair of medics had appeared almost instantaneously; Venatrix stepped out of the way to let them do their job. Alystra shot her a glare, clouded with pain but sharp as the knives she'd thrown during their duels, and Venatrix felt a pang of guilt. She hadn't intentionally set out to injure her, merely acting on sheer instinct.
Though, as Alystra's words from earlier replayed in her head, Venatrix found her regret slipping away. "Look how well that turned out for your sister."
Didn't turn out much better for you.
Steeling herself, Venatrix turned away from her fallen opponent as the medics carried her out on a stretcher. Chin up and shoulders back, she returned to the dugout, the resounding thunder of the crowd following her exit.
As she pushed through the gate, Percy greeted her, bow in hand in preparation for his match. "Nice job out there," he said hesitantly.
Venatrix shoved him out of the way without a word, shrugging off her helmet and snagging a cup of water from the refreshments table. She tossed Percy a glare as she chugged it down, and he withered.
Only then, Venatrix noticed the stares of the gathered Careers directed her way, equal parts impressed and intimidated. All she could do was keep her chin up and stare back.
Something jostled her shoulder; she turned to see Iago, a wide smile back on his face. "That was so fucking sick," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. With a playful scowl, she weaseled out of his hold, dodging his attempt to ruffle her hair. He settled for a slap on the shoulder, turning to their peers. "Ah, come on guys, show some respect for the future Victor of the One-Fifty-First!"
To her surprise, that received a hearty handful of whoops, mostly from those who'd already accepted defeat at the tournament, Venatrix noticed. Still, it brought a small smile to her lips.
Lightly elbowing her brother, she reached over him to grab a towel from the table, dousing it in water before making her way to the bench. Agate met her on the way with Coquina at her elbow, expressions of disbelief still etched onto their faces. "Damn, Trix," Agate said, exhaling forcefully. "Well, nobody's questioning whether or not you deserve the spot now…" She trailed off with a somewhat-nervous laugh.
Venatrix didn't miss the almost-wounded glance Coquina shot towards her friend, though Agate was too busy attempting to squeeze Venatrix into one of her too-tight hugs to notice. Coquina recovered quickly as Venatrix pried Agate's arms from around her torso. "Drakos deserved it," she said, uncharacteristically vehement.
Agate shook her head, settling for an arm around her friend's shoulders. "Between you and Percy…"
Venatrix's eyes narrowed at Percy's name; next to her, Iago's expression mirrored hers. Seating herself on the bench, she laid her sword across her lap, using the rag to clean it. Her father's voice rang through the arena, calling Percy and Lancelot to the dueling field. Again, she caught Percy's eye just before he stepped out; she said nothing, not a word of luck as she wiped the blood from her sword. He took it in stride, shoulders rigid as he walked out onto the dirt.
Almost stubbornly, Venatrix refused to give her attention to Percy's duel, getting up to return her weapon once she'd cleaned it. Placing it on the rack, she turned to find that Iago had followed her, the two of them now standing to the side as their peers focused on the commencing duel. "Hey," she said, making no move to return.
Iago's gaze had been locked on the duel, though at her voice, he looked away, his eyes questioning.
"You alright?" Venatrix asked, keeping her voice low.
Her brother only shrugged, leaning up against the wall as he turned his attention back to the duel. His expression was unreadable, and Venatrix followed his eyes to where Percy now launched arrows towards his supposed object of affection.
"I'm sorry about what happened," Venatrix said, and he rolled his eyes. "It might have… partially been my fault," she admitted.
Iago raised an eyebrow at that, frowning.
"I told Percy he wouldn't get picked since we were too close…" She almost flinched as the boy in question fired an arrow right past Lancelot's ear, his aim too high for her comfort. Her eyes narrowed. "I didn't realize he wanted it so bad." Percy's next arrow struck Lancelot in the chest, followed quickly by two more and a concluding whistle.
Iago sighed in frustration. "That's fucking great," he said sarcastically.
Giving her brother a light nudge, Venatrix made her way back to the bench to retake her seat next to Agate, Iago at her heels. She leaned forwards, chin resting on her hands, while Percy and Lancelot reset for their final duel, the latter stiffly plucking arrows from his armor to return them to their owner. Percy accepted with a matching glower, such a stark difference from the expression of near-bashful friendliness he usually wore in Lancelot's presence.
At the starting whistle, the boys lept into action, Lancelot charging forwards and Percy stringing his bow as he dodged the other boy's swing. Venatrix exhaled through a grimace, squinting at Lancelot's strategy, or sudden apparent lack of one. Get in close, sure, but don't just give him free reign—
"Do you think Alystra's gonna be okay?"
The low voice reached Venatrix's ear, tinged with worry. Swiveling her head, Venatrix saw Poppy and Olympia exchanging words behind her, their expressions shadowed. Poppy caught Venatrix looking and shot her a heated glare, dragging Olympia out of earshot towards where Leto stood, stubbornly polishing her axe despite the Tournament's conclusion. Her glare joined the others', and Venatrix averted her gaze, another flare of guilt resurfacing in her stomach.
She'll be okay, she has to be. The medics had been right there to stitch her up after the duel. It's not like I killed her or anything.
"He's gonna win," Agate murmured, bringing Venatrix's attention back to the duel.
As she spoke, Percy fluidly strung three arrows at once, releasing them directly into an incoming Lancelot's chest, interrupting his momentum. Lancelot staggered backwards, another arrow bringing him to his knees.
The whistle blew, and Percy lowered his loaded bow, his face breaking into a breathless grin as the spectators cheered around him. Venatrix scowled, watching as he extended a hand towards Lancelot, helping the other boy to his feet. Their mouths moved in a quick exchange of words, whatever Lanceot said bringing a laugh to Percy's face as he relieved his former opponent of arrows.
"Now where the fuck was that when I was fighting him?" Iago scoffed, folding his arms.
Venatrix's brow furrowed as they announced Percy the winner of the duel over the speakers. "I don't know what his problem is," Venatrix muttered. She turned to Agate. "Did you know he wanted the spot so badly?"
Agate shrugged uncomfortably. "I guess he's had his reasons for sticking with the program," she said neutrally.
"But he's never been enthusiastic about it," Venatrix countered, an edge to her voice. "Plus, I told him, both you and him, that I was getting the girl's spot, like, he knew…" She slipped into a scathing impression of Percy. "'Oh, whoops, didn't realize we'd be competing for the same year; sorry Trix, but also fuck you.'"
Iago laughed darkly. "Return the favor in the arena for me, will you?"
A flutter of fear swept through her; Venatrix exchanged a look with Agate, shaking her head. "But it's not like they'd actually pick him though, we're… we're too close…" She trailed off, gnawing at her lip, dread curling in her gut. "I mean, I told Dad not to vote him in, he has to listen..."
Iago's eyes widened; he shook his head pointedly. Before Venatrix could amend her statement, Percy's sharp voice interrupted her. "You did what?"
She whipped around. "Percy—"
"You're kidding me, Trix. No, please be joking." Percy's hand was clenched around his bow still, his hurt expression quickly clouding with anger. Lancelot stood behind him at the entrance gate, both boys returning to the dugout to relieve themselves of weapons before the awards ceremony.
Her tongue felt leaden in her mouth under his scrutiny.
Silence was enough of an answer. His gaze was furious, incredulous. "I thought we were supposed to be friends, and yet you would sabotage my chances at this? The one thing I want?"
"Don't be fucking dense, Percy," Venatrix spat, finding her voice. "You think I want to be attending your funeral pyre next summer? 'Cause I don't!"
Percy laughed, a harsh, unkind sound. He paid no mind to the shameless stares of their peers, his sharp blue glare reserved just for her. "Wow. You're so fucking arrogant, it's almost unbelievable." Venatrix flinched. Alystra saying it was one thing but Percy? It felt like a knife in her chest. "Did it ever cross your mind that maybe I could win?"
...It hadn't. It hadn't even crossed her mind that he might end up in the arena with her at all.
She didn't have a response.
Percy seemed to read her mind. "I earned that spot, Trix," he hissed.
"You don't deserve it," she shot back.
He stiffened, opening his mouth to respond when Oberon's voice sounded over the speakers, calling all competitors back to the field for the formal announcement of the Selection Tournament winners. Their glaring contest was interrupted by Lancelot, carefully prying the bow from Percy's hands. Percy flinched, though he relaxed when he saw the other boy, releasing the weapon.
Pushing past them, Venatrix made her way to the gate, the other girls lining up behind her. Percy appeared at her shoulder as she stepped out to the field. "You could at least pretend to be happy," he said, an unfamiliar snideness to his tone as they led the procession to the center of the pit.
Venatrix started to retort, but a sharp shove to the back from Agate interrupted her; she caught Percy wincing from a similar hit. "Can you guys knock it off, for one second?" Agate snapped.
Shooting her friend a look, Venatrix settled for a fake smile, ignoring Percy in favor of the occupants of Fairfax Arena showering cacophonous praise over their champions. With the help of subtle cues from the referees, the group of trainees fanned out behind Venatrix and Percy, Alystra noticeably missing from their ranks, though Tyberius M. had recovered enough to stand with the help of a crutch. In front of them, the lineup of Two's living Victors once again graced the dirt, both of her parents standing tall and professionally rigid.
The crowd quieted when Oberon raised a hand, the microphone clipped on to his shirt picking up his voice. "Students of our great Academy," he began, the authority in his voice echoing around the stadium as he addressed the gathered trainees. "District Two and her Victors commend your performance today. We recognize the defeated, as your efforts create the backbone to which our champions climb to victory. And most importantly, we are pleased—" only half-pleased, by the look on his face— "to announce the winners of our girls and boys divisions."
He paused, and Venatrix straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin to meet his eyes.
Oberon smiled. "Venatrix Pyke and Perseus Silverhorn!"
Even the sound of Percy's name couldn't dampen the burst of floating pride in her chest as her father placed the bronze medal around her neck, its weight grounding. Oberon gave her a brief squeeze on the shoulder before taking the second medal from a box held out by an attendant and draping it around Percy's neck, his expression darkening by a hair.
That was it. No awards for second place here, not when second place meant a sword through your gut — both here and in the arena, apparently.
Taking a step back from the pair of champions, Oberon clasped his hands behind his back. "It is now my pleasure to announce the chosen volunteers."
Venatrix couldn't help the way her eyes flicked towards Percy, his expression visibly anxious. Not him, Dad, you said you wouldn't. Percy may have won the Tournament along with her, but that didn't guarantee him the spot. It couldn't.
Oberon continued mercilessly. "This is never a decision made lightly, by any means. We take into account not just the Tournament, but the overall progress each recruit achieves throughout their career at the Academy." He paused again, letting the silence sink into the air before his voice rang out again, sharp as steel. "By unanimous vote, the Selection Committee has decided to abide by the results of the Tournament. Venatrix Pyke and Perseus Silverhorn, should you choose to accept your positions, you will volunteer to represent District Two in the One Hundred and Fifty-First Hunger Games."
The crowd erupted into a roar at his words, an almost-manic grin splitting Percy's face.
All she felt was dread. Dread, and no small amount of betrayal. Her father turned to her, his eyes alight with fervorous pride. You promised.
"Venatrix." Her name sounded like a weapon. "Your performance today proved beyond a shadow of doubt that you are fit to shoulder this responsibility. The lifelong care and dedication you poured into your skill is a testament to your desire to achieve the ultimate goal." She couldn't do anything else but look him in the eye, unsure whether she should blame him, Percy, or herself. "The honor is yours to bear. Do you accept the position?"
Venatrix didn't hesitate. "Yes." Her voice rang loud and unmistakably, her nod of assent testifying her intentions. This wasn't about Percy anymore; it never was.
And yet here he stood, at her side the one time he shouldn't be. Oberon turned to him. "And Perseus. Today, you have showed a… remarkable persistence and an undeniable drive. Your willingness to honor our district is clear, and your clear-sighted focus towards your objective will allow you to face the consequences of the arena." He paused, allowing Percy to absorb the weight of the title. "Do you accept the position?"
If Percy recognized the implication in her father's words, he didn't seem to care, though his eyes flicked her way before he responded. "I accept."
So that's it. Facing each other, the two champions shook hands, just as they would on Reaping day. Percy's grip was tight, his face an odd mixture of euphoric and apologetic; Venatrix matched it steadily, ignoring the metaphorical knife in her chest.
The voices of the crowd swelled around them, eager for what the near future might bring. To say Two was hungry for a Victor would be an understatement; it had been almost ten years since they'd last won the Games — far too long for a Career district, even without the unfortunate loss of their most recent Victor.
"Only one can emerge victorious from the arena." Oberon's voice carried a tone of finality, his eyes locked on Venatrix. "Make sure it's one of you."
With that, her father turned the closing of the ceremony over to Cadmus, trusting the trainees to follow him off the field and back into the auxiliary gym. Obediently, Venatrix and Percy trailed in his wake, the warm air of the gym almost uncomfortably stuffy after the open stadium.
Stoutly, Venatrix avoided the looks sent her way by her so-called friend, pretending to find her medal more interesting while they waited for the others to filter in. Both of her parents had similar ones hanging in their room, inscribed with the District Two logo and the year of their respective Victories. Venatrix ran a thumb along its ridged edges, the raised 151 on its flipside. It would mean nothing without the Victor's crown to match; though, according to her parents, those never left the Capitol.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as a handful of Victors rejoined them in the gym, Morwenna — Percy's mentor — striking up a stiff-looking conversation with her father. If either of them caught her watching, they paid no mind.
Aside from her and Percy, their peers were permitted to leave, though most lingered in the gym, grabbing their things and giving the two volunteers a congratulatory slap on the back or a jostle of shoulders; however envious they might be, each kid was eager to shake hands with a potential Victor. Venatrix accepted with grace, returning their enthusiasm with a slap of hands, a cool grin, subtly using the commotion to distance herself from Percy.
A sharp nudge at her shoulder signified her brother's presence; he followed her gaze to her future district partner, now lapping up the attention like a golden retriever. Iago scoffed in disgust. "Unbelievable."
"I can't believe both Mom and Dad picked him," she muttered, out of earshot of the others as they stood off to the side of the gym, shucking their armor piece by piece.
"Can't say I'm really that torn up about it."
Venatrix looked at her brother. "Iago, if I come back, he'll be dead."
"What do you mean 'if'? It's not really a question; you are."
She opened her mouth to respond, but paused when she noticed Percy making his way towards them, as if he'd sensed his name in their mouths. Iago began to slink away, but Percy spoke before he made it out of range, jogging the last couple meters. "Hey, wait. Can I talk to guys? Both of you."
Iago narrowed his eyes; Venatrix hooked a finger to the edge of his shirt to keep him from running off. She turned to Percy. "You accepted the spot."
His expression wavered at the coldness in her tone. "Yeah, I… I just want to apologize for what I did and said, and..." He sent her a hesitant glance, his previous anger replaced with a more familiar look of determination. "I don't want to go in with bad blood between us."
"Should've thought of that earlier," Iago snapped.
Venatrix bit her lip to keep something similarly scathing from coming out; Percy exhaled in defeat, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry. I crossed a line, I know. I just wanted to show them I had what it took, and—" he paused, glancing away— "I guess it worked. It wasn't meant to be personal."
"Not personal?" Venatrix retorted, her voice rising in disbelief. "Percy, only one of us can come out!"
"Trix, this is my only chance," he implored. "I'm sorry — I really, genuinely am — but they never would've considered me if I hadn't done it, especially now that I know you talked to your dad about it!"
At the mention of her father, Venatrix's eyes flicked towards Oberon to find him sharply watching the conversation unfold, though he remained across the room with the other Victors. "You're not sorry if you would do it again."
Seemingly at a loss for words, Percy turned to Iago, taking a minute to leak sincerity into his voice. "I swear, I never intended to actually hurt you."
Iago huffed, folding his arms. Finally, he dropped his heated glare. "It's fine. I would've done the same, no hard feelings."
Venatrix raised an eyebrow. "Iago, I've never not known you to hold a grudge."
She almost felt bad for crushing Percy's hopeful expression.
"Fine," Iago said testily. "I hope Trix guts you in the arena and then strangles you with your own intestines."
Percy swore; Venatrix sharply elbowed him.
"What? You wanted honesty," Iago scowled, indifferent to the pitiful look of resignation forming on Percy's face.
Of course, there was nothing obliging him to accept Percy's apology, genuine or not. Venatrix knew her brother well enough to know he was more embarrassed than upset about nearly dying on the field, especially in front of such a large audience, though even that wasn't enough to prevent him from making a show of it. The two siblings exchanged a look, letting Percy stew uncomfortably.
Iago turned back to him eventually, picking at the hem of his shirt. "For some reason, Trix still cares that you're gonna die, so I will try not to express my opinions on that matter." He paused. "In front of her." At Venatrix's frown, he shrugged. "That's the best you're getting from me."
He stalked off, and Venatrix let him go, leaving her alone with Percy. "Trix…"
Shaking her head, she leaned up against the wall. Venatrix knew she couldn't forgive him on Iago's behalf, even if she wanted to. But that didn't mean she wanted him to die. "I don't know what to say to you, Percy. I truly don't."
"...I was hoping we could make a promise not to kill each other until the end," he said in a poor attempt at a joke.
Venatrix's biting glare drove the look of shallow amusement from his face. It should've been a given for them; hell, they'd played that way in the mocks last summer, to their almost-success. Even for the rest of Two's tributes, a knife in the back from their district partner was unheard of, unexpected. Discouraged. But she could still see it in her mind's eye, the way Percy had toyed so blatantly with her brother's life. "Honestly, I don't think I can trust you to keep that kind of a promise. Not after today."
Percy huffed in disbelief. "Trix, come on."
"I told you I would be chosen. Did you just not care about the fact that we'd be going in together?"
Percy's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Actually, I kind of always imagined that we would." At Venatrix's expression of surprise, he continued. "I mean, we've been training together since we were what, ten? Don't tell me you've never imagined us kicking ass in the arena together; we'd be the best pair Two's sent in since your mom and Ruiz Cabrera." Venatrix recoiled at the thought. "Well, it wouldn't exactly be like what happened there," Percy said with a grimace. He sighed again. "I just… I thought that's what you would want too. Someone you can trust in there to have your back, and vice versa." He glanced away, steeling his expression. "Meanwhile, this whole time, you were trying to rig the Selection so I wouldn't get picked."
"Percy," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "That is not the same level as you nearly killing my brother to prove a fucking point!"
He flinched, having absolutely no business looking like a kicked puppy, but here they were.
Deliberately, Venatrix locked him with her stare, mercilessly ignoring the guilt laced through his features, bleeding into his once-reliable blue eyes. "Do you really think you can kill me?"
"We're on pretty even ground, I think," Percy clipped, mildly offended.
Venatrix blinked. "That's not what I meant." At his frown, she continued. "I meant, if it were down to us in the final two, and I were on the ground, injured and weaponless, and you had your loaded bow pointed at my face," she said stiffly, "could you kill me?"
Helplessly, Percy looked away. "I…" He paused, teeth gnawing at his lip. "I would have to," he said quietly.
Venatrix nodded, not trusting herself to say anything around the raw emotion threatening to close her throat.
"But never before then, Trix. I swear." Percy's expression was pained, pleading. "If you end up with a knife in your back it won't be from me."
"Never before," she repeated quietly.
Percy shifted uncomfortably, hesitating before he spoke. "What about you?" She frowned, waiting for him to go on. "If the situation were reversed, would you kill me?"
Slowly, she nodded, realizing it was true. It would have to be.
Percy exhaled in defeat. What did you expect? she almost said out loud. Perhaps it would destroy her, but who's to say she wasn't already slowly chipping away with each month that went by, edging away from the memory of her little sister and towards the brutal reality of the Hunger Games?
Out of the corner of her eye, Venatrix saw her parents and Morwenna slip away from the group of Victors, heading towards them, the majority of their peers now long-gone. Percy noticed it too. "So we stick together, yeah?" he said with quiet earnesty. "Until the final two."
There wasn't anything else to say. "Until the final two," Venatrix confirmed, somewhat comforted by the relief etched onto Percy's face.
It didn't last long; Oberon's presence set him back on high alert. Understandably so — the look her father gave him was absolutely withering. Venatrix almost groaned; her brother hadn't inherited his penchant for grudges from nowhere.
Thankfully, Morwenna spoke first. "Volunteer contracts," she said brusquely, jerking her chin towards the nearest exit door of the gym, beyond which lay the staff offices.
The soon-to-be volunteers followed wordlessly, a silent procession filled with uncomfortable tension while Morwenna slipped into one of the rooms lining the hall. She emerged swiftly with two files in hand and, passing one to Oberon, she guided Percy into the office bearing her name on the door. Oberon nodded for her to step into the adjacent one, a joint space for him and Dagmara. He shut the door behind them and Venatrix let out a breath, not bothering to conceal the turmoil on her face.
Oberon noticed immediately; of course he did. "Hey," he said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You did excellent out there, Trixie, you have no idea how proud I am." Venatrix didn't say anything as he enveloped her into a hug, the contract forms long-forgotten on the desk. She sunk into the warmth of the embrace, letting her mother do the same when he released her.
The warmth couldn't last forever. "You picked Percy. Both of you," she said, unable to hide the accusatory note in her tone.
Her parents exchanged a glance. "Well, he wanted it, didn't he?" Oberon said, scathing enough for Dagmara to shoot him a glare.
"But—" The bite of broken promises choked her argument. "He's my friend," she finished weakly.
"Really? After what he nearly did to your brother?" Oberon scoffed, folding his arms and leaning against the desk. "I don't think he cares about being your friend anymore, I'm sorry Trixie." The hint of genuine sympathy in his voice did nothing to reassure Venatrix. She turned to her mother.
Dagmara sighed. "Morwenna has been pitching him for months. After today, we saw no reason to fight her suggestion."
Venatrix didn't have the words to dispute, not when she was still so angry herself. Sure she made her promise to Percy, but either way, one of them would be dead in six month's time, a thought she hadn't had the chance to fully process.
"Come on, let's get this contract out of the way," Oberon said, brisk but not unkind. Grabbing a pen, he flipped through the file, pointing out places for her to initial and sign, as well as himself, being her mentor. She complied, not bothering to read the paper. She knew the gist of what it said, anyways. 'Volunteer on Reaping day or face the consequences.' "We can get you set up in the volunteer bunks sometime this weekend if you want," Oberon said, tucking the signed file back under his arm. "You wouldn't have to stay the whole time, of course, but—" he tossed the pen back into a mug with its fellows— "part of the experience."
Venatrix shrugged indifferently. Any other time she might be excited about the prospect of getting the coveted room for herself — she'd never needed to board at the Academy before — but right now, she couldn't bring herself to care. Far more important things pressed relentlessly on her mind.
"It could be fun," Dagmara said with a light squeeze to her forearm, brushing stray hairs away from Venatrix's face. Venatrix winced as the contact sent a dull pain throbbing in her head. "Oh," Dagmara grimaced. "Might want to get some ice for that, hon. You got whacked around a bit in there."
That was putting it mildly. Venatrix felt her eyes widen suddenly, remembering another someone who would be needing more than just ice. "Is, um—" she cleared her throat. "Is Alystra going to be alright? I didn't mean to um. Stab her."
Dagmara chuckled softly, patting her on the arm while Oberon waved a hand. "Her? Eh, she'll be fine," he said dismissively.
"They've got her in the medical facility just outside the arena," Dagmara said when she didn't look reassured. Venatrix exhaled in relief; the Academy's on-campus emergency hospital certainly served its purpose. "You can check on her if you'd like."
No way in hell she'd want to see me, Venatrix thought. She didn't particularly want to confront Alystra again either, though the nagging feeling in the back of her mind told her she might have to. Venatrix nodded. "I think I will," she determined.
Oberon shrugged, following her out of the office to deposit the file. He gave her another toothy grin as she left, quickly ruffling her hair, and instructed her to meet them back in the gym afterwards to regroup before going home.
Resigning herself to come back afterwards to grab her things, Venatrix headed down the corridor away from the offices. As she pushed through the doors of the stairwell leading outside, she caught her father's voice from down the hall.
"One minute, Perseus. We'd like to speak with you."
A/N: Oooooh somebody's in trouubleeeee... ahaha
..This is the largest chapter of the fic so far and for literally no reason lmaoo.. But yeahh there's. Quite a fallout here (though I should probably say that neither Percy not Venatrix will be facing any official/legal consequences for their actions here, seeing as Venatrix acted in self-defense, and Percy didn't actually hurt Iago there... )
Also, there might not (probably should not) be another update next week since uh. I have quite a large research paper due at the end of the week (oh god) and I while the chapter's already like.. maybe half-written, I should Perhaps Not be spending my time writing hunger games fanfiction with that looming over me... :T But yeah, that chapter will be the last of this little Selection Tournament/January arc (as you may be able to guess, we've got some Interesting conversations coming up) so. Yeah. Slowly but surely, we're getting closer to Reaping Day, I promise jhfd. Anyways. See ya !
- Nell