Chapter 36: Nonpareil

Private Sessions, the Capitol

A light lunch had been a smart idea, especially given the fluttering in Venatrix's stomach.

It wasn't that she had no idea what to show the Gamemakers – obviously she knew. Both Venatrix and her father had easily agreed on flaunting her undeniable talent with a sword, but Venatrix couldn't help but feel like it wasn't enough. Not for someone of her legacy status, and certainly not after her demonstration just before lunch.

(And Venatrix couldn't help it; she'd discretely pulled aside one of the medics to make sure Arrhenius wouldn't suffer too badly for her actions, and she'd regretted it as soon as she caught Viper's wily stare raking over the interaction.)

The One boy had disappeared long ago into the lair of the Gamemakers, never to return. She'd wished Mariposa and Percy good luck when they'd been called in, but now, Venatrix sat quietly with only Shannon at her side, elbows digging into her knees. The Three boy seemed lost in thought as well; only the Fours seemed to keep some sense of their jovial back-and-forth. Further down the line, the outliers muttered among themselves, but they didn't even cross her mind; Venatrix had already shown them the colors they needed to see.

"Venatrix Pyke, District Two."

Abruptly, Venatrix stood, rolling her shoulders into squared confidence. She had no reason not to be.

No reason except for that stupid deal you made with Viper. Why the fuck did I actually agree to that? Her mother always warned that arrogance would be her undoing. Whatever. It doesn't matter now. Chin up, Venatrix strode into the empty gym, ignoring the heavy slam of the doors behind her. Without the other tributes, this gym was hers; Venatrix wondered how similar the emptiness would be once she alone stepped out of the arena. "Mr. Aquila," she greeted. "Gamemakers."

They stared down at her from their perch, ever-curious and ready to be entertained. "Miss Pyke, welcome," the Head drawled, hands clasped stiffly behind his back. "You have fifteen minutes to show us your skills."

"I intend to show you what a Victor looks like," Venatrix declared, stalking immediately to the weapons rack to select the longsword she'd been favoring throughout training. Sure, she'd been humbled before, but the adjective never really stuck. Not in the face of sheer fact.

"Please do." Aquila gestured for her to begin, and she waved a hand, indicating that she wanted three trainers, three opponents.

Venatrix twirled her sword in preparation as they jogged out to meet her, though she frowned at the selection. One reached for a similar sword, and Venatrix held up a hand to stop her. "No," she said, a thought blooming in her mind. "Those, if you can." She pointed to a set of katanas hanging on the rack. "And you two; go back. I want the axe trainer, and…" She paused, narrowing her eyes. "The archer."

If that generated any reaction from her overlords, Venatrix paid no mind. Instead, she grabbed a set of padded armor for herself, on the off-chance that she attracted any stray arrows.

While she waited for her adversaries, Venatrix bounced on her toes, eager to keep her muscles warm. She set herself up in the center of the sparring mats, and slowly the three trainers began to circle her, various weapons in hand; Venatrix doubted they'd go easy on her now.

She doubted the archer was as good as Percy either, the way the Capitolite's expression settled into one of uneasiness as she no doubt realized the danger of actually injuring her peers or the tribute. Pity, but Venatrix would take what she could get. From somewhere off to the side, a shrill whistle sounded, and the trainers sprang into action.

Venatrix moved just as quick; an arrow sailed for her shoulder, but she twisted out of the way. She hefted her sword as she went, countering the incoming double-bladed strike from the katana trainer, but their blades didn't stay locked for long. In her peripheral, the axe trainer reared his weapon for a strike, and Venatrix dislodged her sword, planting a kick in the katana trainer's stomach to shove her briefly out of range while she met the encroaching opponent. A quick parry-riposte – a bit awkward for the dissimilar weapons, but effective nonetheless – granted her a hit to the axe trainer's padded shoulder; he grunted and Venatrix barely ducked around the whistle of another arrow sailing in from six o'clock.

It just missed the axe trainer too, slightly grazing his size before striking the mat.

No time to worry about that; katana trainer was back with a vengeance of swift, sharp blades, attempting to come in from Venatrix's blind side. She met them again, countering one and dodging the other before allowing her longer sword to slip between the trainer's defense, stabbing lightly at her stomach. The trainer leapt back, avoiding a fatal blow in time, though Venatrix barely had time to stop the axe-blade she suddenly noticed heading for her sword arm.

She dodged; it smarted against her shoulder, enough for Venatrix to notice, but hardly enough to render her weapon null. Come on, this is just like fighting Mom and Dad, Venatrix reminded herself, catching the axe trainer across his now-open chest with a powerful strike. These guys hardly hold a candle to them, even if there is that archer to worry about–

Just in time, Venatrix remembered her, caught the flicker of a bow-arm drawing back in the corner of her eye.

Quickly, she disengaged from the axe trainer, sending a sharp kick to the back of his knee. With her free hand, she grabbed his unstable frame by the front of his armor, dragging him into the path of the incoming arrow. He let out a grunt as it dug into his back, and Venatrix headbutted him for good measure.

One down, she thought, stars swimming behind her eyes. At the flash of steel under fluorescent light, Venatrix instinctively raised her sword, blocking the katana strike headed for her side; another screamed towards her chest, and Venatrix angled her sword to catch it too, if a bit ungracefully. The trainer twisted her blades, making room for the foot she prepared to send into Venatrix's unshielded side; Venatrix let it happen, allowing the Capitolite to kick her out of the path of another incoming arrow. She rolled with the blow in a maneuver similar to the one she'd displayed earlier, back to her feet within a heartbeat.

The katana trainer seemed more cautious now, panting heavily as she paced towards Venatrix at an angle; the archer hovered nearby, encroaching closer without the fear of worrying about the downed axeman – he'd dragged himself smartly off the mat, recognizing defeat.

Venatrix repositioned herself, keeping both opponents within her vision.

If she thought she'd been sweating earlier, it was nothing compared to now. The cool air-conditioned gym pricked at the hairs on her arms as Venatrix twirled her sword again. She wasn't sure how much longer she had left, but drawn-out fights like this were hardly a stranger to her, the exertion in her muscles merely an old friend.

Katana trainer's feet shifted, a break in her pattern, but Venatrix was faster.

She lunged– towards the archer. Caught off guard, the woman sent an off-axis arrow in her direction, missing the tribute by a mile. She strung another, releasing in time to graze Venatrix's shoulder, but it was too late. Venatrix's sword slammed into her gut, disregarding her attempt to use the bow to block, and sent her skidding backwards into the mat. Venatrix didn't hesitate with the killing blow to her heart; she didn't spare the archer a second glance, not with the quick-patterned footsteps approaching from behind.

On a dime, Venatrix whirled around, batting away the katana intending to land between her shoulder blades. Another strike followed just as quickly from the trainer's offhand sword; Venatrix switched her parry to block, and the final dance began in earnest between them.

Venatrix could almost feel the precious seconds of her private session slipping away with each shriek of steel on steel. Her sword reacted as fast as her eyes tracked movement, utterly instinctive and merciless. Who was she to care if her blade drew blood from between the trainer's padding? With a hiss of pain, the Capitolite disengaged, twirling both swords in preparation for a horizontal, double-bladed sweep, and Venatrix took the opening. Her blade sang through the air, equally brutal as it was precise.

Had this been the arena, Venatrix's sword would have embedded itself in her heart.

The irrefutable strike signaled Venatrix's victory, and the end of her private session; she breathed a sigh of relief, her lips curling into a breathless, pride-filled grin.

"Perfect timing, Miss Pyke," Aquila's voice rang out overhead.

Venatrix nodded curtly, daring not to drop her smile. "Thank you," she huffed out. She looked him in the eye. "See you on the other side, Mr. Aquila." With that, Venatrix buried the tip of the sword deep into the mat, sent the Gamemakers a two-fingered salute, and stalked towards the elevator. The pair of Peacekeepers guarding the door barely acknowledged her as she went; Venatrix returned the favor.

The ride to her floor was short, even shorter with the adrenaline still flowing through her jittery muscles. Expectant expressions immediately met her in the District Two suite – suddenly stuffed to the brim with the district's retinue of Victors – and Venatrix, still slightly out of breath, merely offered a short thumbs-up.

A cheer went up through the group, and Venatrix's smile widened enough to hurt. She didn't care.

Her parents met her with matching grins, and for a second, Venatrix let herself bask in the easy praise. "I'm sure you did wonderfully," Dagmara crowed, squeezing her shoulder. "Wouldn't be surprised if you scored higher than either of us."

Eleven would certainly be a hard one to beat. "We'll see," Venatrix huffed; she'd rather not jinx it.

Wordlessly, Dagmara passed her a glass of water; Venatrix downed it without hesitation, the coolness on her tongue even more of a relief. "Get freshened up, and then we can fix you something stronger, hm?" Venatrix huffed at that.

"Hang on," her father interrupted, halting her beeline for her quarters. "I want to go over your private session first," he said, gesturing to the mentoring room. "Promise we won't take too long."

Venatrix followed him, chugging the rest of her glass.

"Alright," Oberon said once the door shut behind them, muting the murmur of their company in the common area. "Details, Trixie."

"Three trainers at once," Venatrix said proudly. "Took me the whole session, but none of them managed to land a strong hit on me."

Her father grinned. "That's my girl," he said, and Venatrix beamed, leaning into the hand clapping her shoulder. "Sounds better than what I did. All swords I'm assuming?"

"Actually, no."

Oberon raised a brow.

"Dual katanas, bow and arrows, and axe."

His brow furrowed in thought. "Huh… that's Fonseca, Silverhorn, and… who, the Seven boy for the axe?"

Oh, him; right. Venatrix nodded, not wanting to admit that she'd been thinking of Bellara, even though the trainer's weapon had been considerably smaller than her sister's.

Oberon huffed again, a smile returning to his face. "That's… wow, that's really clever."

"You think so?"

"I do." He rubbed at his jaw. "Not only did you show the Gamemakers who you think your biggest threats will be, you also showed that you can defeat them too. You really are something else."

Venatrix joined in his chuckling at that. I hope so. "Oh, and also…" She recounted the events of the morning to him, and he let out a sharp laugh.

"You really do think like a Victor, honey." Oberon gave her another affectionate pat on the shoulder before dismissing her to her quarters, the words lingering in Venatrix's ears. He said them often enough that Venatrix knew he meant them, though, like the Gamemakers, Venatrix knew her father found it difficult to shake his biases. Does it really matter, as long as I win?

Showering quickly, Venatrix redressed in something a little nicer than the expensive loungewear she'd worn after training the past two days. With the rest of the Victors in attendance for the score reveal, Venatrix figured she'd need to put on her best face. Her best District Two face, at least; her best Capitol face would be up to Stefania and the Nells come interview night. Venatrix quickly brushed a powdery bronze shadow she found in her bathroom on her eyelids and rejoined the crowd; she easily spotted Percy wearing a grin just as contented as hers had been earlier. "Good session, I assume?"

"Honestly some of the best shooting I've done," he beamed, and Venatrix gave him an appreciative punch on the shoulder. "Did some blind shooting too; all bullseyes."

"How'd you know?"

"Well, I looked afterwards–"

Venatrix cut him off with a snicker. "I know, I'm teasing. Proud of you, Perce." She couldn't hide the honesty in her words; naturally, Percy sensed it, evident in the crease of his smile.

"Guessing yours went well too?"

"Yeah; I mean, I think so at least." His expression prompted her to continue, and Venatrix felt a sudden dryness in her mouth at the implication of just how well her private session had gone. Looking into Percy's eyes, she realized she didn't have the heart to tell him exactly what she did. "They were, uh. They were really impressed with my swordwork, it seemed."

"That's awesome, Trix," he grinned. "They should be."

Venatrix huffed in agreement before excusing herself to fetch them both a small drink; according to her mother, tributes often celebrated tonight by consuming as much (or as little) alcohol as desired, as this would be their last real chance before the Games. Still, Venatrix decided she and Percy would settle for one each; she hadn't forgotten the events of their graduation party so quickly.

Even with the alcohol, that entire day was burned into her memory.

Don't think about that now.

As she meandered through the suite, Venatrix passed around greetings to the various array of Victors; a quick hug and a peck on the cheek for Callithyia, curt nods and welcoming smiles in place of handshakes (given her now-full hands) for Antigona and Honora, another warm pat on the shoulder from Cadmus. Morwenna had joined her tribute when Venatrix finally made her way back, passing Percy his drink. "Nothing for me, Pyke?"

"Uh, if you like peach liquor you can have mine…"

"Pushover," Morwenna scoffed, though not without a trickle of humor. Unsure if she should be offended or not, Venatrix followed them to the set of couches in the common area where Kitty sat with her parents blabbing about the Capitol's current perception of the other tributes. Unsurprisingly, Morwenna seemed to have as much input as her father on that matter, quickly joining the discussion.

Venatrix and Percy, eager to let them have at it, sank back into the couches next to each other. Somebody had already switched on the screen; despite the score reveal being hours away still, the Games host ran a consistent talk-show program with various Games personnel. The buzz of the program was too low for Venatrix to decipher words; subtitles trailed across the screen, but she didn't bother. "They'd better give us good scores this year, Perce," she sighed.

"Can't imagine they won't."

"I mean it," she said, uncomfortably reminded of her deal with Viper. She lowered her voice. "I… may have told Viper he could lead the pack if he scored higher than me."

"You what?"

Venatrix promptly shushed him. She didn't feel like having to explain it to her father; if all went as planned, he would never even find out. "I was just egging him on," she said. "Trying to let him think he's better than he is."

Percy shook his head. "'Makers, Trix… I'm not following him if he does."

"He won't."

"You know that for sure? You'd really trust a Gamemaker?" He raised a brow, though a veneer of severity pervaded the expression. "For all you know he could've gone into his session blabbing about that, and the 'Makers'll do it just for drama." He shook his head again.

"We can just Bloodbath him, then."

Percy snorted at that. "Fine."

"I'm not joking."

"I didn't think you were."

When the cloud of apprehension didn't dissipate from his features, Venatrix nudged him. "Hey." He glanced at her. "You alright?"

"I'm fine."

"I mean like, in general. With everything." She'd promised herself yesterday during training to speak with him in private; guilt wormed its way into her stomach when she realized she'd forgotten.

Percy's eyes slid over to her father. "I don't know," he murmured, just barely audible.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Percy blinked; not in front of him, the gesture said. Discreetly, Venatrix stood, and he followed her out of the common area. She paused at the entrance to the corridor that led to their quarters, relatively out of earshot from the wandering guests. Belatedly, she realized they'd both forgotten their drinks, but she didn't care enough to fetch them. Leaning against the cool marbled wall, her friend let out a terse sigh. At Venatrix's prompting look, he spoke. "There's just… a lot to think about. More than just the Games."

"This is about…"

"Your dad, yeah."

Venatrix exhaled stiffly. "Do you think it's possible he was just bluffing when he told you? I mean, he does that a lot."

"Does it even matter at this point? I can't risk that."

A low bark caught her attention; Venatrix's eyes drifted towards the sound, landing on Stefania's dog as she zig-zagged between the legs of the Victors, collecting head-scratches as she went. She turned back to Percy; he'd also been watching the dog. "You're right," Venatrix said; she leaned against the opposing wall as his focus returned to her, his blue eyes as cool as the stone at her back. She wasn't sure what else to say, wasn't sure how to do something about it without getting anyone else involved. "I think we have to tell someone, Percy."

"We can't–"

"What else can I do to help?" There has to be something; maybe if she thought harder about it… she'd been too distracted to properly try as of late thanks to the Games, and another pang of guilt struck her with the realization.

"I don't know," Percy mumbled.

"Maybe it won't even come down to that, yeah?"

He shrugged, his gaze drifting back to the Victors. "Maybe. I don't know, it-it's just messing with my head."

"I think it's designed to," Venatrix said quietly.

Percy didn't respond to that. Probably didn't know how; Venatrix couldn't blame him. She had a nagging feeling that the only way out was to clue someone else in on what her father had said; either that, or she'd speak to him herself, as much as Percy had begged her not to.

Maybe Percy doesn't need to know. She'd figure it out; by the scar on her palm, she would.

In the meantime, however… "Come on, let's just sit tight and wait for the scores, yeah?"

Percy quirked a brow. "How many hours is that?"

"Dunno. We could get new drinks though. And I think I saw one of the Axoves walking around with a tray of little hot dogs…"

They melted easily back into the party, though Venatrix could see the uneasiness still lingering beneath Percy's stick-on smile. Venatrix practically glued herself to his side even though she knew he could handle socializing with the Victors even when Anita the dalmatian paused in front of the pair, sniffing for extra pets.

She just didn't want him to feel alone.

Kitty managed to provide a decent distraction in the form of a Jabber poll titled, 'Which D2 tribute has the best ass?' Neither Venatrix nor Percy managed to catch the current projection before Morwenna swiped the cellular from her hands. "Kitty– you voted? What the hell?" The pair dissolved into snickers as Morwenna began chewing her out, though Venatrix knew she didn't miss the daggers her mother glared at the escort.

"Not sure how to feel about Kitty looking at my ass, but I definitely won that poll," Percy quipped, earning a light smack on the shoulder from his district partner.

By the time the television panned to an official Games broadcast, the entirety of Two's entourage had managed to squeeze themselves around for the viewing, scooting over chairs and ottomans when the couches weren't enough. As the tributes of honor, Venatrix and Percy retained their position on the couch, pressed tightly against each other to make room for Anita, who nobody had the heart to kick off. Someone had turned up the volume so they could clearly hear the upbeat chimes of the national anthem; the chatter quieted as the host's voice took over, briefly introducing the program.

"Get on with the scores, jackass," Honora jeered at the screen.

Venatrix snorted, though she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, as Mariposa's eye-catching smile lit up the screen. The number eleven flashed next to her face, and Venatrix nodded in appreciation; she expected nothing less. When a ten appeared next to Viper's face, Venatrix couldn't help the tiny smirk that curled her lips. "You'll have no trouble beating that," Percy muttered wryly, and Venatrix was inclined to agree. Off-handedly, she wondered if she'd be able to hear the furious screeching no doubt coming from the floor below them if she listened hard enough.

Her own proud portrait graced the screen next; the following eleven brought a lightness to her chest.

The pack was hers; Viper would just have to deal with that.

Lost in thought at the score and the whoops of congratulations filling the air, Venatrix almost missed the bold-faced twelve that flashed next to Percy's portrait, his muttered "holy shit."

More appreciative curses filled the air at the revelation, mixed congratulations laced with awe; Percy hardly looked like he believed the score, his eyes round and unblinking despite Morwenna mussing his hair with a proud grin, a smile beginning to spread across his face until–

"Bullshit."

Oberon's cold tone cut through the atmosphere like a knife. His glare seemed to freeze Percy in place, any shred of pride melting easily from the blond boy's features. Venatrix barely noticed the pair of tens that blinked next to Grethel and Shannon's portraits through the chill in the room.

"Bullshit," Oberon said again, and Venatrix wanted to roll her eyes except the malice in his stare nearly sent a shiver down her spine, and it wasn't even directed at her. "There's no wa–"

"Can you shut up," Morwenna snapped.

Oberon didn't bother sparing her a glance. "No fucking way you earned a twelve," he spat, and Venatrix noticed the blood draining from Percy's face under her father's sheer contempt. "You hear me? You didn't earn that."

Percy didn't dare respond.

Morwenna picked up his slack. "Fuck you, Pyke," she hissed, rising to her feet. "Don't you dare speak to my kid like that."

Her father attempted to follow suit, but Dagmara's hand clamped down on his shoulder like a claw; instead he fixed Venatrix with a firm stare. "They only gave him that score to piss you off," Oberon snarled, shrugging her off, "He didn't earn it."

(A nasty part other wanted to agree with him, wanted to feed the jealousy that curled in her gut when she registered Percy's near-perfect score. But Venatrix was determined not to care about it, not to make it into a problem like her father seemed insistent on doing.)

"You're more angry than me," Venatrix pointed out. "I don't care about stupid arena politics; he shoots just as good as Morwenna, if not better." Percy flushed under her praise, eyes still locked with the chrome coffee table, but Venatrix continued, determined to convince at least herself, if not her father. "They gave him the score he deserved, just like the Ones, and just like me." Just like Patience with her eleven and Idris with his ten, passing beneath the notice of the rest of the Twos.

"It's not that simple," her father insisted. "They like to–"

"I don't care," Venatrix interrupted. "The scores barely even matter for us anyways, unless someone gets below a ten, which no one did!"

"She's right, Oberon," Callithyia cut in, a clear warning in her tone; the rest of the surrounding Victors sported similar expressions of disapproval at her father's behavior. "However you want to put it, creating a fuss will only make things more difficult for our tributes." Her knowing gaze flicked to Venatrix, acknowledging the glimmer of thanks in her features, before returning to her former charge. "I'm sure you don't want that."

Oberon only scoffed, a loud noise in the awkward silence he'd created. "No," he ground out. "But you know they always pull this kind of shit. Dagmara, tell her–"

"You're acting like a child," Dagmara said bluntly. "Knock it off."

That was enough to shut him up for good.

"Venatrix, I hope you've been paying attention to the scores," Dagmara continued tersely.

"Patience got an eleven; the rest got tens. Five got a three and a six. Six got another six and…" She looked up as the number flashed next to the boy's face. "Seven."

The rest of the scores proceeded in tense silence; Seven scraped a three for the girl and an eight for Ochre, neither of which surprised Venatrix. Eight fared marginally better with a seven for Caitlin (Venatrix could practically see the I-told-you-so look plastered to the girl's face) and a nine for Tooth. Sheesh.

The numbers petered off after that with a two and a five for District Nine, and Venatrix grew increasingly more concerned with the grumbling of her stomach. She settled for picking at a bowl of chips on the coffee table. Five and four for Ten, two and five for Eleven (they really have no hope, do they?), another five; oh, a six for the Twelve boy, interesting. Veylani and Zavian rounded off the night with a three and five respectively, and Venatrix and the rest of the Twos didn't bother sticking around to watch the post-score commentary.

Between the Victors and the Capitolites in attendance, they barely managed to squeeze everyone around the dining table, large as it was. Venatrix staunchly placed herself next to Percy again, giving his forearm a silent squeeze under the table when he sent her a subtle look of thanks.

After dinner, however, Oberon pulled her aside again. "It's bullshit," he repeated once out of earshot of the others. "There's no way he scored better than you, Tr–"

"Dad, can you stop?"

"I don't want you to have to worry about him!"

No wonder Percy doesn't want to call his bluff. "I'm more worried for him!" she countered hotly.

Oberon stopped cold, his glare heavy. "You can't afford that, Venatrix." He shook his head, fatigue seeping into the gesture. "You know, I told your mother the same thing before she went in."

"Did she listen?"

His silence was enough of an answer.

"Then why should I? She made it out fine."

"Do you have any idea how long it took to get to 'fine'?" Something bone-deep bled into his tone, and Venatrix shifted in place; it was difficult to picture her mother as anything other than the steadfast, resolute figure she'd known her whole life. "Please, honey, it will be easier if you let go of him now, I promise."

Venatrix only shook her head, ignoring the deepening lines of concern etched across his face.

And she hated it. Because as much as the thought churned her gut, she could see his reasoning, that cold, clear line that connected every shitty thing he did with his goal— their goal. Venatrix's own toes stood right at the crest of that path; she could almost feel the edge beneath her soles, and her father… here he stood, practically begging her to take it, so convinced it would lead to her victory.

The promise she'd made to Percy seemed to protect and hinder her at the same time.

She couldn't help but wonder if it was time— either to break her promise, or to keep it and demand her father the truth she already knew, demand that he stand down. Delay any longer and the choice might be taken from her.

Venatrix didn't intend to die by that fact. For now, though, until she could decide what to do, she would have to live with it.

true vengeance 151 . weebly . com

A/N: So, my friends... Today happens to be the one year anniversary for this fic. While I probably would've thought I'd gotten to the arena by now, I Do want to appreciate what I have accomplished here so far, which is ~135k words of complete brainrot and. Yeah, I've never written this much for one story before, so I'm proud of that ;-; I've definitely never written that much in a whole year, but I certainly intend to keep going ! Ig I also want to say thank you to everyone who's (still) reading so far, it really does mean a lot to me that you guys are enjoying this as much as I am ;-; Happy bday TrV ! Who knew she was a Pisces lmao.

I've also updated the blog with training scores ! Gonna probably make an actual post for it soon but they're all on the tribute page atm. Love the added drama c:

And since we're getting closer and closer to the Bloodbath, I guess it's time for y'all to start thinking about BB predictions.. And arena predics too, if you're fancy hjfhd. Let me know your thoughts if you have any ! I'd love to hear c: See y'all hopefully soon with the next chapter ! (Idk, I haven't started it yet oops)

- Nell