Chapter 23: Auctoritas

TW: Underage drinking

Venatrix's mind was at war with itself; she could only hope nobody noticed during the graduation ceremony.

Only a fool or a sadist would be able to ignore what she did. Hell, she could sense Percy's discomfort, his guilt, from a mile away, though they stood shoulder-to-shoulder as the Academy bathed them in honor.

This will be nothing compared to the arena.

The man she'd killed (whoever he'd been) lingered in the back of her brain, a silent observer to their ascension — he was nothing.

A fool or a sadist, but ignore it she must; wasn't that what she'd been training for? To suppress the inherent wrongness surrounding the notion of killing; to hone her instincts to strike without thinking, without remorse, without mercy?

And yet… When she'd been demanded to kill, she'd fought it tooth and nail. Ten years of training, out the fucking window.

Her father had assured her it was okay; normal, even.

Meanwhile, he hadn't shown a drop of pity for her victim (why should he?), only kindness and support to his daughter-turned-killer once she'd done the deed. She was both grateful and terrified, though anything otherwise would be the height of hypocrisy, with six — no, seven; he said he'd had to do exactly what she did — murders under his belt. Her mother too; god, her reality was whiplash.

If her current state of affairs didn't prove that, she didn't know what would.

Still outfitted in her graduation uniform, Venatrix milled aimlessly about her house, greeting the guests her parents had invited over for her graduation party. They'd even been kind enough to host Percy's as well, a joint celebration for the two Volunteers — an event to send them off, for those who weren't close enough to either future tribute to come to the Justice Building on Reaping Day.

To say it was the last thing she was in the mood for was a wild understatement, but Venatrix put on a brave face, shaking hands and accepting compliments with a plaster smile. She did her best to stick to Percy's side where she could; her friend couldn't seem to shake his jitters, keeping his hands behind his back so people wouldn't see them shaking. Even having his family around didn't help.

Venatrix attributed that to Aric Silverhorn; she was sure no one had invited him, and yet here the man was, already drunk off his ass by the looks of it and earning disparaging stares from the rest of the guests.

"Ignore him," Venatrix muttered into her friend's ear.

But Percy's gaze had already abandoned the man, his eyes fixed on her own father, currently locked in conversation with his mothers. Judging by their faces, Hera and Danae had decided to take action against the former's ex-husband. Catching the stares of the district partners, Oberon sent a nod of acknowledgement their way before setting off to handle Silverhorn senior while the mother hens started towards their son.

"Oh, look at you," Hera gushed, aiming to pinch Percy's cheek as soon as she was in reach; narrowly, he dodged. "You two are gonna be the stars of the show, I just know it."

Percy straightened his collar, slightly pink in the face. "Thanks, Mama," he said sheepishly.

Raised voices near the front of the manor pricked at Venatrix's ears over the din, followed by the chime of the doorbell. Leaving her partner in his mothers' clutches, she started towards the disturbance, expecting the worst. However, Aric Silverhorn was nowhere to be seen; instead, her father stood at the door, confronted by the familiar faces of his older brothers. "Hey, little Ronnie!" her uncle Richard boomed, throwing an arm around a scowling Oberon.

"I told you not to ring the bell," her father grumbled, but Richard had already shoved past him.

Noticing Venatrix, her uncle swept her up in his attention. "Aha, the lady of the hour!" he said, roughly mussing her hair; Venatrix gritted her teeth to hide her grimace. "Bet you'll be just as mean as your daddy in there, eh?"

"Meaner," Oberon clipped, stepping aside to let his eldest brother into the house.

Duncan clapped him on the shoulder as he went, a welcoming smile shining through his full beard, even bushier than her father's. Venatrix opened her mouth to greet her uncle when a blur of motion cut her off, slamming into Duncan with a hug that nearly knocked him back down the porch stairs. With a hearty laugh, Duncan untangled himself from Iago (a classic greeting; she should've known), following the party into the large foyer of the mansion. "Man, I missed you guys," Duncan said, ruffling Iago's curls while he beamed. "Hell, when'd you get so tall, kid?"

Iago barely reached their uncle's chin, yet that was an achievement given Duncan's stature; had her uncle gone into the Games as a kid, Venatrix doubted he would have had trouble winning. "Always have been, what do you mean?" Iago responded cheekily.

"Little fibber," Duncan chuckled. "And don't you look dapper?" he said, enveloping Venatrix in a brief but tight hug, followed by a pat on the cheek.

She grinned, pulling at the hem of her uniform to straighten it. "Thanks. Don't think I've grown too much, though."

Duncan hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe not physically, but I can see it in your eyes." His expression turned sympathetic, passing a glance to her father. "Keep expecting to see that little firecracker of yours bouncing off the walls here. Can't believe it's been since… what, Snowday, 149?" He huffed at the memory of their last holiday gathering, sharing a bittersweet smile with the three of them. "...Ah, sorry to bring that up."

"No, it's fine," Venatrix said, finding that she meant it. "Thank you, actually. It helps to know she won't be forgotten."

"Never," Duncan smiled, patting her on the shoulder. He leaned over to Venatrix's ear, speaking in a hushed tone. "And I hope to see you at the Victory party as well, hm?"

"That's the plan," Venatrix said with a terse smile.

Another quick pat on the back before Oberon sent her to the kitchen to help her mother yet another round of hors d'oeuvres.

"That's Iago's job," Venatrix protested, despite already being on her way.

"She's asking for you," Oberon shrugged, glancing around the corner to the kitchen, and then back to Iago, currently trapping Duncan in a conversation about his latest achievements at the Academy. "Your grandparents are back there too; I don't think you've said hello to them yet."

Venatrix bit back a groan, swept up again in the tide of guest-greeting; who was she to pass up two minutes of smalltalk with the Head Peacekeeper, or the retired Academy trainer Honora Vikgar of the 93rd Games? Nothing wrong with her mother's parents either — in fact, she preferred them over her father's — but she thought she caught a glimpse of Agate milling about with her own parents.

"Trix, honey, can you set this out?" Dagmara said as soon as she'd crossed into the kitchen, passing her a plate of fruit and cream yogurt dip. Behind her, two elderly ladies who Venatrix recognized as her grandmother and great aunt dithered about in the kitchen, chattering over the hum of the oven. "My mother and dear Aunt Tiana have already started baking snickerdoodles, if you can believe it," Dagmara explained with a huffed laugh as Venatrix set the platter out on the counter; Venatrix blamed them for her distaste for Academy kitchen snickerdoodles. "They've officially kicked me out of my own kitchen, but you know what?" Her mother winked. "I'm not complaining."

Venatrix raised an eyebrow. "What do you need me for, then?"

"Oh honey." Dagmara set down her own platter, smoothing out her daughter's hair. "I just want to make sure you're doing okay."

"Is this about the—"

"Mhm."

"I'm fine." Venatrix shifted under her concerned stare. "Really."

Dagmara touched a gentle hand to her face. "You're strong. You will be."

("I can't abandon my daughter, please—")

Venatrix nodded curtly, giving her mother what she hoped was a reassuring smile. At her grandmother's request, Dagmara released her so Venatrix could accept a spoonful of batter to taste, exchanging a round of hugs and pecks on the cheeks with Hesperia Illura and Tiana Cabrera.

Promptly, her grandfather beckoned her over to where he sat at the marble countertop, only to send her off to fetch him a glass of whiskey.

"Dad, please," Dagmara scolded. "We're honoring her here tonight, not you."

The retired Peacekeeper huffed, tugging at his signature bushy mustache. "Can't a man get a drink around here?" With a lighthearted roll of her eyes, Dagmara disappeared to get her father his drink while Venatrix slid into the seat next to her grandpa at his insistence, though when he started running her through what to do in the arena, Venatrix had to hold back her own eye roll. "You stick by your district partner, you got that? But don't you forget to keep an eye on him; can only trust people so far in there…"

"That's good advice, thank you," Venatrix said, careful to keep her tone respectful; behind him, she caught Dagmara shaking her head in amusement. "Don't worry Grandpa Felix, I've got a plan for that."

"I'll bet you do," he said, wagging his finger as he sipped at his whiskey. "Now, you listen to your mother, there, she knows what she's doing."

"Yes, sir," Venatrix said, not daring to disagree under Dagmara's raised brow.

Felix grunted in acknowledgement, taking another swig. "And so do you, eh?" Venatrix smiled. "Now, Hespie, how much longer for those cookies?"

"A couple minutes, dear."

"—Mooom!" Iago's voice reached them before he did, sliding into the kitchen on his socks; Dagmara glanced down at them with a frown. "Mom-mom-mom—"

He cut himself off when he saw his grandfather and the half-empty glass of whiskey. "Ooh, can I have some?"

Shrugging, Felix started to pass Iago the drink when Dagmara slapped it away. "Ah-ah, you won't like that." In response to her son's pout, she beckoned him over to the part of the kitchen they'd designated as a makeshift bar. "You too, Trix, honey. Try this instead." Mixing various colorful, fizzing liquids into a glass, she passed it to Iago, who bounced back and forth on his toes.

"I don't think he even needs one," Venatrix said as Iago practically snatched it from her hands.

Dagmara's lips curled in amusement, and she shrugged, pouring another one for Venatrix. "For now, it's just one," she said before turning back to her son. "What were you going to say, honey?"

Pausing mid-drink, Iago tilted his head in confusion. "Oh, um…" He shrugged blithely. "I forgot!"

Venatrix snickered, sipping at her own glass. The fruity taste of peaches and vodka filled her mouth, sizzling on her tongue; she took a smaller sip next time, not wanting to accidentally choke on the carbonation.

"Oh, by the way…" Dagmara trailed off, waiting for her kids to lean in closer. "In a couple minutes, you can start migrating to the other house," she said with another not-so-subtle wink, and Venatrix and Iago immediately brightened. Typically, the students' volunteer send-off party was usually held on Academy grounds, but her parents had offered up their second mansion for the event. Last year's party, being stuffed to the brim with twelve year-olds, had felt more like chaperoning than anything, though she'd gotten a feel of how it usually went at the previous year's.

But a Victor's mansion versus an Academy gymnasium? It was hardly a competition.

The only drawback (though Venatrix saw it more as a benefit) was the guest limitation — the Peacekeepers at the gate, having been alerted to the event, had been given a list of guests and their plus-ones, as her parents wanted to limit the potential damage caused by wild teenagers, especially non-Academy kids.

Iago nudged her, almost spilling her glass. "You're still cool with me being on music, right?"

"Please; I do not want that responsibility."

"Yesss!" Iago took a long gulp of his drink in celebration, only to cough up half of it onto the floor as it presumably went down the wrong pipe. Venatrix narrowly avoided soaking up rose-colored droplets into the light grey fabric of her uniform.

"Iago—"

"Oh— honey, here."

Passing him a wad of napkins, Dagmara helped her careless son clean the juice from his clothes, dropping some to the floor to mop up the spill with her shoes while Iago reached over to refill his drink. "Hey, you clean up," Venatrix scolded, and he reluctantly obliged, tossing the sticky napkins into the trash bin conveniently placed nearby.

As they finished the clean-up, Venatrix noticed her uncle Richard slinking over, his eyes trailing her mother as she reorganized the bar table, setting up a new cocktail for Iago. "Hey kids, Dag-mara; fancy seeing you here."

"This is my house, Richard," Dagmara deadpanned.

Unperturbed, he grinned stupidly. "You fixin' drinks? I'll take a dirty martini," he said with a wink that made Venatrix frown in disgust.

"Not for you," Dagmara said flatly, pouring another glass and passing it to Iago.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart." Languidly, Richard leaned across the countertop, nearly knocking over a couple of bottles in the process. "Y'know, my offer's still on the table," he whispered loudly, hovering into her personal space as if Venatrix and Iago weren't standing less than a meter away. "Run away with me, Dagmara. It'll be fun."

Oh sweet 'Makers, not this again. Venatrix cringed, shooting Iago a look.

Dagmara openly shifted herself away from her brother-in-law. "Oberon, honey?" Her husband practically materialized out of thin air at the sound of his name. "Can you take out the trash, please?" she asked sweetly, looking Richard dead in the eye.

Howls of laughter erupted from Venatrix and Iago's mouths, the sudden downturn of Richard's face only adding to their glee. Their uncle flinched when Oberon grabbed him by the shirt-collar, barely bothering to hide the murderous look in his eyes. "What did I say about harassing my wife, Dicky?"

"Heh..." Struggling, Richard failed to disentangle himself from his brother's grip. "Hell, Ronnie, you've got that stick so far up your ass ol' Julius would be proud."

Oberon's response was practically a growl, attracting the attention of the other guests; Venatrix caught her grandfather glaring daggers their way over his glass of whiskey. "Oh my god, it's like Snowday in Forty-Nine all over again," Iago whispered eagerly, preemptively pulling out his cellular to capture a video in case the two brothers came to blows; Venatrix's recording of their previous scrap two winters ago had only caught the tail end of Duncan and Felix pulling them apart.

"It had better not be," an icy voice barked from behind Venatrix and Iago; they flinched in tandem at the sudden proximity, the tone sharp enough to stop the two men in their tracks.

Clearing his throat, Oberon released his brother. "Hello, mother," he said testily.

Ophelia Pyke merely sniffed in distaste, relieving her sons of her attention as soon as the conflict appeared averted. Instead, however, Venatrix found herself the subject; straightening her shoulders, she brushed out the front of her uniform with one hand, the other still gripping her almost-empty drink. "Grandmother," she said politely. "I'm glad you could make it."

Gaze flicking to the glass in Venatrix's hands, the silver-haired woman frowned, and Venatrix tried not to shift in place. Ophelia hummed in disapproval, though her eyes shot open in surprise when Iago snatched the drink from his sister's grip, tossed it back (without choking this time), and sidled off with a "Nice to see ya, Granny."

I swear to fuck, Venatrix groaned internally, her sentiment echoed by Dagmara's sigh.

"Venatrix," Ophelia said briskly, breaking the stares of the guests as she passed through them, her husband trailing her like a spectre. Venatrix took that as a hint to follow, hurrying to catch up with her grandmother. "I'm glad you've decided to follow procedure this year."

Unlike your sister, were the words unsaid. Venatrix didn't trust herself to respond.

Stepping into a quieter area of the mansion Ophelia stopped, still in view of the kitchen thanks to the open wall separating the rooms; between the bodies of meandering guests, Venatrix's eyes followed Agate and Percy as they hovered over the island of hors d'oeuvres, making what looked like easy conversation. "Of course, we expect the bare minimum from you," her grandmother continued, the bare minimum being Victory. Obviously. "But I really do hope you'll have more grace in that arena than your father."

'Makers, is this supposed to be reassuring? Venatrix wondered, but she only nodded, her attention again captured by her friends in the distance; whatever joke Agate just told must've been hilarious.

Following her gaze, Ophelia's eyes locked on her district partner. "Oh, don't worry about him, Venatrix," she said with a callous huff. "Boys like that don't last in the arena."

Venatrix smiled tersely, graced again by the lovely reminder of why they rarely had her father's parents over for dinner.

Her grandfather cleared his throat, a gravelly sound. "Good luck next week."

Ophelia's scoff interrupted her thanks. "She doesn't need luck," her grandmother asserted, her authoritarian gaze landing again on the kitchen. "Come, Deucalion. Before Felix eats all the hummus."

The two of them departed swiftly, and Venatrix breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily, Agate and Percy had migrated from the area of food platters; Venatrix didn't fancy running into either pair of grandparents again (unless snickerdoodles were involved, of course).

She found them in the sitting room, along with Percy's brothers (minus Theseus in District Six). They'd apparently found the minibar at some point as well, clutching various drinks in hand while Agate detailed a long-winded rumor she'd heard from one of her parents' patrols, Venatrix assumed, though she cut herself off at the sight of the second half of District Two's tribute pair.

"Trix!" Agate exclaimed. "Why is this the first time I've seen you?"

"Grandparents," she grimaced, and the blonde girl groaned in sympathy, patting the spot on the couch next to her, but Venatrix shook her head, grinning. "I've got a better idea."

Agate's face lit up. "Is it time?"

"Let's get the fuck out of here."

Almost at once, the six of them scrambled to their feet, practically tripping over themselves to get out the door; catching her mother's brief eye, Venatrix threw a wave over her shoulder as they went. Though it lay next door, Dagmara's mansion was similar in size to her husband's, which meant a solid walk down the street in the warm June air. Venatrix let it wash over her, only half-paying attention to Percy's brothers needling him about whether Lancelot would be there or not. "He'd better fucking be," Venatrix chimed in to support.

Judging by the loud music already echoing through the halls when they breached the threshold — a distinct change of pace from the ambient music that served as the background of the previous party — Iago had gotten there first. Him, and half the Academy, it seemed.

Well, we did tell everybody twenty hundred hours, and it's already… She had no idea, but the sun had already dipped behind the mountains, painting the sky a bitter orange.

"What… song is this?" Percy's brother Hercules asked, cocking his head with a frown as they picked their way towards the refreshment table to snag more drinks, or fresh snickerdoodles, in Venatrix and Percy's case. Agate shrugged, but Percy's lips twitched into a grin as he recognized the lyrics.

"Pre-Panemian shit, probably," Venatrix answered, shoving a cookie into her mouth; her brother had a taste for the upbeat music of generations past. She nudged her district partner. "Come on, let's get changed."

They'd coordinated the previous day, both bringing a change of clothes and an overnight bag which they'd stored in Venatrix's designated room in the house, neither eager to remain confined to the Academy uniforms. As they clambered up the grand staircase dominating the foyer, Venatrix caught a glimpse of her brother bouncing about through the crowd and visibly mouthing the lyrics to the song, though the music itself drowned out his voice. By the time she'd reached the second-floor balcony and peeked over the railing, he'd made a space big enough for himself to start throwing backflips without kicking anybody.

Venatrix snorted. "At this rate, I don't know if there's gonna be anything left for us to have a second drink."

"Y'know, that might be for the best," Percy muttered before excusing himself to one of the guest rooms.

Following suit to her respective bedroom, Venatrix quickly exchanged her uniform for a tight red dress, the smooth, satin fabric falling to her mid-thigh. Undoing her braid, she shook out her hair, the wavy curls extending down her back, easily covering her bare shoulders. With the minimal makeup kit she'd shoved into her bag, she touched up her appearance with a light hand; according to her mother, the shimmering bronze powder was supposed to bring out the jade color in her eyes.

Venatrix sighed, absently smoothing the flyaway tendrils of hair that wanted to make themselves known. I killed a man today, and here I am fussing about my hair. The unbidden thought came again, and her hand stilled; only hours ago, she'd been in that room, that knife warm in her grip, that man—

"Hey, you ready?" Percy's voice made her start. He stood at her door with a frown, peeking into the room. "You okay?"

Pressing her lips together, Venatrix nodded, putting down her powder to join him. "Yeah, of course." He'd changed into a fitted polo t-shirt and a pair of nice khakis, the former stark white save for two red stripes stretching across his chest.

Percy gestured to his outfit. "Look, we match."

The buttons of the shirt crawled all the way up his throat, and Venatrix's lips twitched in a laugh. "You look like a Three," she said, unbuttoning two and straightening out his collar. "There you go."

He huffed a quiet laugh of thanks, though it didn't quite dispel the tension in his shoulders. With that, they headed down the grand staircase together, enveloped again by the pumping music and sudden wave of cheers that swept through the crowd upon their arrival. Venatrix couldn't help the grin this time, the woes of guilt slipping from her mind, at least for the moment.

Iago greeted them at the bottom with a matching expression and two cups full of what looked like the pineapple-infused vodka she'd seen marinating in a glass keg on the countertop for the past couple days. Venatrix accepted eagerly, but Percy raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What's in this?"

"Same as hers," he said honestly. "Come on, man, I wouldn't do you like that."

Percy looked unconvinced.

"Fine, more for me, then," Iago shrugged, taking a large swig from the cup.

"Here, Perce." Lancelot appeared at his shoulder, another drink in hand. Percy took it without hesitation, fixing his boyfriend with a grateful expression; without a backwards glance, he let Lancelot drag him into the thick of the crowd, all starry-eyed and bushy-tailed. And what am I, chopped liver? Venatrix thought, though without any heat. It was the first time in a while she'd seen him smile like that.

It wasn't long before Agate appeared again, sweeping her into a bone-crushing hug, her cheeks pink from alcohol and excitement. "God, you're so gorgeous, look at her!" Agate practically yelled, earning another round of cheers from the crowd; Venatrix was sure her face had flushed the same color as her friend's. They wandered aimlessly around the first floor of the mansion shoulder-to-shoulder, chatting when they could hear each other's voices over the music. At one point, Agate snagged Coquina from where the girl lingered in a corner like a wallflower, greeting her with a sloppy kiss on the forehead that left Coquina stuttering and Venatrix giggling.

"She's right you know," Alystra's voice said from behind, drawing Venatrix's attention from Agate and her girl. "You clean up nice, Pyke."

Again, Venatrix felt her cheeks heating up as she turned around, still unused to the newfound friendliness from her (former?) nemesis. "Thanks," she said, somewhat dubiously. "You, uh you too." It was true; the crushed black velvet of Alystra's short dress tightly hugged her body, the color matching that of her naturally straight, sharply-cropped hair. Tearing her gaze from Alystra's dress (and ignoring her smirk), Venatrix realized someone was missing from the girl's group. "Where's Poppy?"

The dark-haired girl scowled, exchanging a glance with Leto and Olympia. "She left Olympia for Ilya, of all people," Alystra sneered. Sure enough, Venatrix glimpsed the two in question dancing rather closely together on the other side of the room; a surprise, considering she'd been oblivious to pretty much all of her classmates' relationships as of late.

They weren't the only ones either. That's where Percy went off too, Venatrix thought with amusement as she caught sight of him between flashes of people, locked at the lips with Lancelot. Good for him.

Agate's booming voice cut suddenly through the house; in response the music lowered as she made a call for shots in honor of the two Volunteers. After fervent persuasion from both Agate and Alystra, Venatrix accepted the tiny glass of vodka they shoved into her hands, stating that she'd limit herself to a singular shot; she may have graduated, but she and Percy still had a half day's training tomorrow. Can't start slacking a week before the Reaping, now can we?

"To the Volunteers!" Agate crowed. She raised her glass, the cheer echoed by the rest of the partygoers. "And to the Victor! If they're not standing here in this very room, I'll eat my fucking foot!"

Whoops and laughs echoed through the crowd in response; at Agate's signal, Venatrix tossed her shot back, determined to keep the stinging liquid down. The party kicked into gear afterwards, Venatrix staunchly refusing at least two more rounds while the music oscillated infrequently between Iago's Pre-Panemian favorites, the PopCapitol Top Fifty, and a handful of popular Two artists. Despite her restraint, Venatrix could feel the previous drinks beginning to catch up with her, the room melding into a haze of upbeat rhythm and jostling movement. She let herself get carried away on the wave, enjoying the sensation of lightness.

Someone tugged at her arm, and Venatrix frowned, whipping around to face them; underestimating her momentum, she found herself latching onto her brother's lean frame to reorient herself. Iago staggered in turn, accepting her steadying hand, and the two of them dissolved into giggles at their idiocy. "What is it?" she yelled over the music as he dragged her to a part of the mansion where they could hear themselves think.

"Listen," he slurred, peering over his shoulder.

"What?"

"Listen."

'Makers, how many drinks did this kid have? "I am, dumbass. Spit it out."

He glanced around again before lowering his voice. "Look, I know you're still feeling kinda iffy about Percy…"

"Iago—"

"No, like; if you want, I can volunteer with you," he said earnestly, eyes round. "Think about it, we'd be so badass in there!"

Venatrix blinked in surprise, the thought sobering her up. "Iago, what the fuck," she hissed, grabbing him by the ear; he yelped in surprise. "I swear to god, if you do that, I will Bloodbath you myself!"

Clearly intoxicated, Iago only giggled at her vehemence. "We'd be so awesome," he repeated.

"No."

He shrugged, shaking her off. "Fine, fine, if that's what you want."

"Don't even think—"

"I won't!" He raised his hands in surrender.

Venatrix didn't trust him for a second, though she would have to deal with it later; Percy's face suddenly made a reappearance in the crowd, a little too green for her liking. "Oh no," she muttered, fixing her brother with a final hard stare. "We'll talk about this later."

Pushing her way through the crowd, Venatrix made it to Percy's side in record time. "Where's Lance?" she demanded, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him towards the nearest lavatory.

"Bathroom," Percy said weakly, and Venatrix cursed.

Switching course, she plowed through the crowd with him in tow, heading for the side staircase at this end of the mansion.

"I'm-I'm fine, Trix, really."

She shushed him, practically pulling him up the stairs. It spit them out in the same wing as her room (thankfully empty; they'd made a "no guests upstairs" rule), and she escorted him into her bathroom, closing the door and locking it shut. "No way in hell I'm letting you yack in front of the entire Academy," Venatrix huffed.

The sudden quiet, the lack of deafening noise, seemed to swallow them whole. He smiled feebly, sinking onto his knees in front of the toilet.

Respectfully, Venatrix looked away when he started spilling his guts into the bowl. His hair was too short to require assistance in holding back, but Venatrix wished she could be of use to him instead of awkwardly sitting there. Noticing a cup sitting by the sink, she rinsed it out, filling a glass of water and handing it to him when he'd paused in his retching. "Thanks," he muttered after gulping it down.

"'Course," she said, refilling the cup. Kneeling down next to him, she massaged comforting circles into his back while he drank. "How many did you have?"

"Like… two, I think."

Venatrix exhaled. "'Makers, Perce."

He laughed hollowly, and Venatrix sensed that poor tolerance wasn't the only thing on his mind. He spoke after a beat of silence. "They have no idea what we did." Spitting forcefully into the toilet, he took another sip of water, queasiness still etched into his features. "Hell, maybe they wouldn't even care, but…" He sat back on his heels, staring blankly ahead.

Unsure of what to say, Venatrix leaned against the cabinet behind her, unstrapping her biting heels. It was somewhat relieving to know that he wasn't okay with it either.

"I can't get the smell of blood out of my head," he whispered, finally turning to look at her, eyes round and terrified. Her breath caught in her throat, a torturous, dry rattle that sounded like something shattering. "It's gonna be so much worse in the arena, isn't it?"

It is. "My dad said that's why we do it now," Venatrix said quietly, ignoring Percy's scoff. "So we break here, before the arena. We don't have to be ruthless just yet."

Silent tears began to trickle down his cheeks as her words settled heavily on the air, the thick silence interrupted only by his quiet sniffles and the muted bass from the speakers downstairs. With a shaky breath, Percy wiped his eyes, nose, mouth with a stretch of toilet paper, flushing it down the bowl, but the tears continued to fall, rendering him helpless against the barrage. Wordlessly, Venatrix gestured for him to scoot closer; he obliged, his whole body sagged like a puppet severed from its strings, head falling into her lap. She wrapped her arms around him, tight and there, her fingers carding soothingly through his blond waves.

"I can't take it anymore," he whispered, his scarred hand taking hers to trace the outline of their matching marks.

Venatrix's brows knitted together. It hasn't even been a day.

"It's… It's been eating me alive for so long, I…" At her noise of confusion, he twisted his head to meet her eyes. "You don't even understand," he murmured. "Dying is one thing, sure, but I'd take that any day over winning wrong."

"There's no wrong way to win, Percy. Whatever you do in there, if you win, you win."

"Not according to your dad."

The wretchedness in his tone stilled Venatrix's hand; she could feel him trembling now, as if afraid to speak. But he did, albeit barely audible.

"I told you what I promised him. And I meant it, but… he said if you die by my hand, he'd-he'd have my family killed." Sitting up, Percy fixed her with an earnest expression as he wiped leftover tears from his eyes. "And it's not that I want to kill you, I don't, but what if I have to? Like your mom and-and—" A fresh wave of panic danced in his eyes, cutting off his speech. "Who the fuck am I kidding, he'd probably do it no matter how I win, I—"

Venatrix swallowed. "Percy…"

"What?" he snapped. "Are you really going to say he wouldn't?"

Truthfully, Venatrix had no idea what to say. Whatever she'd been expecting to hear, this wasn't it. "I— He's my dad, Percy, he…"

"He wants you to win," Percy said simply.

An understatement. She didn't respond, unable to ignore the damage her father's words had inflicted on her friend for months, if Percy's revelation — and his current state — were anything to go by. Just as she couldn't forget the bone-leeching coldness Oberon had shown her in that room, only relinquishing it once she'd followed his orders.

Part of her brain wanted to insist that Percy was lying to her, making shit up to mess with her head before Reaping Day.

But she'd known both Percy and her father for the majority of her life, enough to know who was the more capable between them of this brand of manipulation. It finally made sense, the way Percy had been acting, and it made her stomach churn.

"You know, you're lucky." Envy leaked into her friend's tone, harsh and bitter. "Mine doesn't give a rat's ass whether I live or die." His face twisted into a sneer. "Don't know why he bothered to show up today either, but it certainly wasn't for me."

She sighed. "Look, I… I'll talk to my dad about—"

"No!" He shot up and Venatrix flinched, taken aback by the sudden vehemence in his voice, the terror written plain across his face. "You can't say anything, please! I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, I can't…"

His breathing turned frantic again, and Venatrix grabbed him by the shoulders, steadying him. "It's okay! It's okay, Perce." She took his face in her hands. "I won't let him hurt anyone, I promise. I can… I can talk to him, he's not unreasonable. He's still my dad."

Percy's voice rose in pitch. "He told me not to tell anyone, Trix," he implored, a helpless laugh on his lips. "But sure, I shouldn't listen to the guy that brutally murdered six people on national television just because he's your fucking dad."

"I won't let him," Venatrix insisted forcefully. "And I won't tell him, I promise. I won't tell anybody." Percy nodded, relief flooding into his silvery eyes. "But you've still got me, okay? You're not alone."

Percy's shoulders started to shake with silent sobs, and he let Venatrix hold him tightly to her chest, tucking his head beneath her chin.

'Makers, look at us now, she thought, uncertainty writhing in her gut. What will we be in a week?

true vengeance 151 . weebly . com
Filler submission form: bit . ly / 3ljFrOB

A/N: This one's for the gays (': Some fun Illura-Pyke family drama there too, these people are so fucking messy :skull: And Percy finally reveals Oberon's threat.. Venatrix promised not to tell anyone, there's no way That can go wrong, right? ... :V These Games are going to go So Well (:

Also it's October which means spooky season but also it's Pyke birthday season ! c: Today (Oct 4) is Dagmara's birthday, hence the update ;-; I've updated the blog with a picture I drew of her ! I'm planning on doing a drawing for each of these fuckers for their respective birthdays (and if I can, I'll get some chapters out then too ! But 5 a month is a lot for me lmao). I've listed the dates below, for whoever's curious:

October 4: Dagmara (42)
October 16: Venatrix (18)
October 19: Bellara (forever 12 ;-; )
October 27: Oberon (47)
October 30: Iago (16)

Fun guessing game: What song was Iago playing at the second party? Wrong answers only.

Last thing; next chapter will for real be the last one in Part I which is cool and fun; that gives about two ish chapters (hopefully) until I close submissions. The first chapter of Part II will most likely not be revealing the tributes yet (aside from D2 lol) so you have until after then ! I only need... one more, I believe (if I still get more, I'll have to make Decisions hm.. cross that bridge when I get there lmao). Anyways, this was a fun one; see you guys next chapter on the morning of Reaping Day ! c:

- Nell