Chapter 45: Lyme Sveinsson
A/N: District Two is back and I read about a review that said they have an unrealistic number of Victors, well, they're Careers, what did you expect lol. They're strong, trained and dominant, if they don't win a lot of Games, their respect and support will diminish. As for Districts Six and Eight, Eight has a Victor coming very soon and unfortunately, Six will have to wait for now, because sadly, not all Districts are created equally. Ah well, but for now, enjoy Lyme, the strong rebel commander of a Victor and the daughter of two other rebellious Victors. Who was this canon Victor and how did she win? Not all Careers are fully into the Games...
P.S. Do you guys like the new book cover that I drew up lol
P.S.S. The arena was loosely based on Château d'Angers and Bamburgh Castle.
P.S.S. Uhh, sorry for the long wait! Late September/early October is a pretty busy time for me so don't expect regular updates. Plus, this was pretty difficult to write since I had to examine several castles one by one with Google Earth and searched up a bunch of medieval articles for this. Pro-tip for aspiring writers: don't underestimate writing fanfics haha, it's harder than you think.
Katniss's eyes glimmered with a mixture of sadness and hope. "Did she die in the Rebellion?"
Peeta raised an eyebrow, scratching his head, his eyes uncertain. "I'm not sure. I didn't hear about her after the Capitol was captured, though."
"She might still be alive, though," Katniss insisted.
Peeta nodded. "Yeah. Hopefully, she is. After all, she was the first child of a Victor to win."
"She was a child of two Victors." Katniss corrected him. "Ragnar and Reyna."
"Yep, it's nice seeing the children of Victors winning. You'd think the odds would be stacked against them," Peeta said.
Katniss furrowed her eyebrows. "Yeah. Lyme got lucky at times. But the most important thing is, she won in the end. And that's all that matters."
Lyme Sveinsson
District 2
Aged 17
6 Kills
Lyme knew it was coming. All her life, she had known it would be either her or Blenda. And she knew that Blenda was weak. Weaker, at least, compared to her. Blenda suffered from recurring training injuries and never did excel at any particular weapon, except maybe the boomerang, but the odds of the arena being stocked with boomerangs were pretty low. Besides, what was a boomerang up against a sword or a knife? Blenda was the pretty, popular twin, Lyme was the tomboy, strong, fighter twin, that much was certain. Unlike Blenda, Lyme didn't spend her evenings cycling up the half-pipe or skiing in the Forbidden Mountains or gossiping with her friends. No, she spent her evenings training as hard as she freaking could! She would be in the Training Centre with her father, brushing up on all her skills. Her favourite weapon was the knife, it was practical, handy, good for combat and the preferred choice of weapon for most of the Victor bunch. But her real asset wasn't what she could do with a weapon. It wasn't something one would associate with a Career girl from Two. She was a master tactician. She would study replays of the Bloodbath with Brutus and her father on a large screen that she could annotate on with a red marker, carefully observing and pointing out movements and formations employed by the Career packs, taking note of how, where and why they stood in the midst of the ongoing carnage. She studied the patterns in tribute movements, studying which direction was statistically the safest to head to, eventually deducing that out of the forty-four Victors, twenty-six headed north after the Bloodbath and only two, Cartier and Orchid headed east. It might seem like a useless statistic, but she knew that subconsciously, the Gamemakers were likely to target tributes over in the eastern side of the arena, hence she would slightly increase her odds of victory by veering north. Another interesting statistic that she picked up on was the fact that thirty-one Victors were left-handed, and out of all the Victors from the Career Districts, only Mags, Cartier and Reyna were right-handed. Since she was right-handed too, she dedicated a significant portion of her time to ensure she was skilled with both hands, placing special emphasis on her left hand, since she could statistically twist the odds in her favour with that ability. There were a lot of other things that she picked up on, such as the preferred Parade strategies, the choice of words during an interview, the attitudes towards fellow tributes and the specific emotional signs that indicated a lie or some form of mistrust. Those were equally as important to her survival as any sort of fighting skill she could ever learn in her lifetime. Just a shame no one else picked up on the importance of strategic thinking, though. Everyone else dived into the weaponry skills, it never occurred to them to work on their shoddy tactics and decision-making. She rolled their eyes as they bragged about their strength. "They haven't got half my tactical prowess," she murmured, replaying Nikola's interview for the fifth time. "I'm going to win, not them." Snow could send her into the arena, sure, by all means, go ahead and try to kill her, but she vowed to win and get revenge. She would get her bloody revenge and all that stood in her way would be crushed to bits.
The announcement, or rather, order, came a week before the Reaping. Lyme had seen it coming, so instead of waiting for Draco to come to her, she came to Draco instead. She marched up to him as he and his Peacekeeper cronies were walking over to her house, with their new, flashy pistols with the finest, sharpest bullets straight from the Capitol and dressed in fine, thick, bulletproof armour, the one that Lyme would absolutely love to wear, but could never do so. They were stunned to see her. Draco dropped the files he was holding and gaped at her as she skidded to a halt in front of him, arms crossed, glaring unrelentingly at him. "Hello there, Lyme," he greeted with a cold voice but the surprise was evident in his voice. "Fine morning, isn't it?"
Lyme rolled her eyes. She didn't want to beat about the bush. "Oh, just cut to the chase, Draco," she snapped.
Draco raised an amused eyebrow. He sneered. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound innocent.
"We both know what I mean," Lyme growled. "The Games?"
Draco's sneer turned into an intense scowl, but unlike most, Lyme didn't budge one bit when she saw that famous scowl. She wasn't afraid of Draco Hadley. "You're going to volunteer, or-"
Lyme sighed. "Yeah, yeah, or I get killed."
"Not just you," Draco continued, approaching her with an ice-cold stance. His hands went for his pistols, gripping them in a threatening gesture but Lyme did not feel intimidated one bit. Refusing to show fear could be a useful tactic that she could employ. "I will kill your sister too."
"Blenda," Lyme snapped. "She has a name, Draco. Her name's Blenda."
Draco rolled his eyes, pushing her backwards with one, swift smack of his hand. "Yeah, yeah, Blender. Whatever. So, Lyme.."
"Fien," she seethed, giving him a murderous, calculating glare. "But trust me, I'm coming home."
Draco snickered. "Oh, we'll see about that."
"Mark my words, Draco," Lyme growled. "I'm going to win the Hunger Games."
Lyme had volunteered, to a thunderous applause from her District. She was, after all, the daughter of not one, but two Victors. As she marched up the stage, her chin held high in an arrogant pose, she could hear the crowd whistling and chanting her name. Some had even brought banners with 'LYME' printed in large, golden letters on them. But she paid them no attention. She simply looked straight and acted as though this crowd was beneath her, unworthy of heralding her attention. In reality, though, she just wanted them to stop chanting. This was wrong, so horribly twisted and wrong. They shouldn't be cheering on a girl who was signing up to kill other young, innocent children for others' sick pleasure. They should be protesting it! But alas, the minds of the Twos had been skewed, brainwashed by greed and desire for power. They wanted to be the strongest and as Lyme looked out and observed the sea of faces, she could tell by the expectant looks in their eyes. They demanded victory. Especially after Iris, Rafael, Coral and Cartier had emerged as shockingly weak Career Victors, further humiliating their supposedly strong, formidable Career tributes in the arena. They wanted revenge. But not Lyme. As the daughter of two sane Victors, she knew firsthand that the PTSD brought about by killing someone who was innocent and young was horrifically unbearable. She knew that the supposed honour and glory could never possibly be worth sacrificing your soul. But better for her to suffer than Blenda, the young girl infatuated with Brutus Gunn and relishing every fun moment of her life. She could never handle the horrors of the Hunger Games. That was why Lyme knew she had to be the volunteer. Not Blenda. And that was also why she had convinced Blenda to fake a horrific illness right before every Reaping, so she wouldn't get picked to die in the arena. So far it had worked. Just a shame Lyme couldn't pull off the whole acting gig too. She sighed as she shook the male tribute's hand, the boy's name already lost in the howling minds of her memory. This was going to suck, she could feel it.
The minute the Reaping replays were over, Lyme grabbed her District partner, whose name she had now learnt to be Musashi, and dragged both him and her father to her room. Draco howled in rage, demanding for her to come back that instant, but she didn't care. She pulled out a whiteboard and began to draw the Cornucopia in the centre. Musashi raised an eyebrow. "Uhh, shouldn't Draco be here too? I'm sure his tactical expertise would help us a lot."
Lyme rolled his eyes. "No, Mushy Musashi. He would only be a disruption. Now, pay attention!" Musashi backed away a couple of steps, his eyes widening as if to insult Draco's intelligence was to utter blasphemy. Either that or he didn't like the new Mushy nickname. Lyme didn't care. She began drawing out arrows, stances, formations, everything she could think up of, explaining the plan for literally every single Bloodbath scenario in great, crystal-clear detail. Musashi's jaw dropped, shocked to see such tactical mastery in a younger tribute. Ragnar simply looked on with a proud, almost smug look in his eyes.
"That's my girl," he whistled once she had finished.
Musashi blinked, struggling to even comprehend the fact that he had to follow orders from a seventeen-year-old spoiled brat of a girl. He cleared his throat and glared angrily at her. "Who the heck put you in charge, smartypants?"
Ragnar kicked him in the shin. Musashi's howled in protest but Ragnar cut him off. "Well, you clearly have the tactical ability of a dying mountain goat so I suggest you shut up."
Lyme snorted. "Yeah. I bet District Four would appreciate my tactics."
Musashi guffawed. "District Four? They're absolute jokes of Careers!"
"Tell that to Jolien, Timmy, Iris, Rafael and Coral," Lyme retorted. "Five Victors in fifteen years, that's an astounding tally, if you ask me. Besides, I've seen Iris's interviews. Dad says she's mentoring this year so her tributes would at least be on my side. Not sure about the Ones but Mom and Cartier are good friends so the boy might be swayed by my tactics. Which means," Lyme smirked. "Have fun coercing that blonde bimbo from One."
Musashi seethed but he couldn't even catch up with her quick, tactical words, much less come up with a decent retort. He simply sulked and declined to comment any further. Lyme flashed a satisfied grin. "There we go, good Mushy."
Lyme was right about the other Careers appreciating her strategic thinking. Draco might have seemed a tad unimpressed by her smart ass ideas at first, but the other Careers and Victors were in on the idea. Even Freya, Draco's right-hand woman, was strategic enough to side with Lyme. Iris and Timmy's tributes were just grateful that the leader of the pack wasn't some Career hotshot who bullied others into submission. The Ones were classically idiotic and would follow a blind dog off a cliff. So, of course, they stuck by Lyme. Musashi was enraged, but he knew he had lost this battle. Begrudgingly, he followed Lyme around the Training Centre, grunting unhappily as she went over tactics and brought them to several uncanny stations to suit her pre-planned strategies. They hardly spent any time bullying the other tributes and whenever they did, it was when Lyme was absent, either to go to the bathroom or to brush up a certain individual skill. And even then, the tributes screamed and ran the instant they drew near, making a whole mess of everything. In short, by Draco's standards, training was a huge bust. But in literally everyone else's standards, training was a massive success. Besides, Lyme's score of eight was decent enough, even if it looked laughable compared to Mushy Musashi's score of ten. Not outstanding, but her physical abilities weren't her key to victory. Her mental capabilities were. And that was why, even as her parents fretted over her and cried all night before she went into the arena, she remained strong. Even as Musashi stared out his window, waiting for sleep to come, she simply hopped into bed and slept as if this was an ordinary night in her life. Lyme was a mental beast, not a physical one.
As Lyme emerged out of her launch tube, she was half-expecting a glare of sunlight or a dark, ominous, black nothingness, which would indicate she was in a cavern. Instead, she spotted a faint, gentle glow, as she emerged on her pedestal, in a forested glade surrounded and covered by large, thick trees, which sprung mightily out of the ground to shield them from the glare of the sun above. Birds chirped their morning songs, giving them a warm welcome into the jaws of death. Lyme gazed at the Cornucopia, its roof littered with dead leaves. There, in the centre of the Cornucopia, was her favourite dagger, wedged in a shiny slab of hard stone with some ancient inscriptions on it. She frowned, but decided not to think about it for now. She had to focus. She glanced around, carefully observing her surroundings. The forest was pretty small, to be fair. Not too far away were dirt paths that led to large towns and villages intertwined with pastures and fields of blooming flowers and cattle. And on each corner of the arena was a large, imposing fortress, a huge, formidable castle that stood high above the towns like eagles, overseeing them, controlling them and yet still offering protection from other worlds. In a way, these castles could resemble the Capitol, who defended the Districts from outside threats, including that tribe from the seas, known by urban legends as the 'Bahama Sea Peoples'. The tribe had been almost completely wiped out after several raids on the coastline. And yet, they ruled with an iron fist, relentlessly pushing them beyond their limits for their own luxuries, killing their most vulnerable for their own ghastly entertainment. They were defenders and overseers, not too different from the feudal lords who would have ruled over these castles in a bygone age that left much to the imagination. Lyme gazed at where her fellow allies were positioned. Musashi was three pedestals to her left, the girl from One two pedestals next to him and the girl from Four a further three pedestals away. The boy from Four was four pedestals to her right and she couldn't even see the boy from the luxury District. Perfect. They had the Cornucopia surrounded, ready to siege the supplies within and take down as many tributes as possible. The gong rang and she rushed in, as fast as she could, dancing around stashes of backpacks and other supplies towards the dagger. But the boy from Twelve was faster. Having spent much of his life running from his abusive family, stray mutts and Peacekeeper, the miner boy practically flew towards the dagger. Lyme cursed, ready to swerve and head for the halberd not too far away. She wasn't half bad at using the halberd, only she would have very much loved to claim that dagger. And then, she realised something. The boy couldn't pull the dagger out. He struggled and tried, using as much force as he could but his weedy arms couldn't make the sword budge. Lyme was wary of a trick, though, one that was set to lure her in, only for him to pull the sword out effortlessly and stab her. No, she wasn't taking the risk. She grabbed the halberd and swung at him. In one instant, the boy was dead, lying on the ground with his head chopped off and blood flowing out like a disgusting red river. Lyme marched up and pulled the dagger out. She had to admit, it was a hard pull, but she had actual muscles, unlike that poor kid. She had minimal problems pulling it out. She whirled around, assuming battle stance and examining her kill options with the utmost care, weighing the pros and cons of taking a particular tribute out. There was the girl from Seven, speedy, fast, definitely a future threat. But she was considerably far away, and as Lyme had already established, was too fast. She would only draw her out of position and into a dangerous area where the boy from Nine, carrying a sword and pocketing a knife, was lurking near. She considered taking him out too, but again, he was too far away and would anticipate her coming. She didn't want to take him out now, all alone without support and with other tributes potentially seizing an easy killing opportunity. Another candidate was the boy from Three, his fingers trembling as he examined the contents of a backpack. Killing him would be easy but Musashi was already near him, just finishing off the girl from Six. He could take care of the computer nerd from Three. And finally, there was the girl from Eight, stranded with minimal tributes around her and none looking in her direction. She was weaponless and had her back turned to Lyme as she tried to stuff a bag of bread rolls into her big, orange duffel bag. Lyme's eyes glinted. Her target was set. She charged, her steps swift, silent, deadly, before raising her dagger and plunging it into the weaver girl's back. The girl gasped and fell over, the life sucked out of her. Lyme pulled the dagger out, repulsed by the sight of blood, but it was normal. She had to kill in the arena, that was a given. The guilt wasn't going to deter her from coming home. Lyme stood up and looked around. The Bloodbath was nearly over but there was time to make a final kill. The girl from Three, crying and sniffling on her podium, had seemingly given up all hope of going home. There was no one around her, except for the boy from Four, who was gathering supplies. He was an ally, so she would keep a minimal watch on him for now. She marched over and with one swift slice, ended the girl's misery. By then, the Bloodbath was over and it was time to go before the hovercraft arrived. Lyme sauntered over to Musashi, who was raving about his two kills to a frankly bemused pair of girls from One and Four, his chest puffed out as he tried to boast about his qualities to the unimpressed Career girls. Lyme gripped the hilt of her dagger and smacked him lightly in the head with it. He yelped in annoyance, whirling around and ready to slice her but she had anticipated his next move and gripped his wrist, smirking cheekily as she did so. "Face it, Mushy," she snickered. "I'm better than you. Now then, let's head for that castle over there, shall we?"
The castle that they headed to was a spectacular one. Guarding it was a blue river rushing through a medieval town filled with cobbled streets and empty taverns and inns, all filled with traps and contraptions that Lyme soon discovered were inactive and had to be switched on. She strode up to a mechanised crossbow dangling over the roof of a small apothecary and flicked a red switch hidden behind it. Instantly, a laser beam flashed to life and began to scrutinise the path ahead. Lyme threw a rag in its direction and instantly, an arrow was released and lodged itself at the flying rag, tearing it in half. "This is bloody brilliant," Lyme muttered, switching on several other traps she encountered on her way to the grand fortification ahead. The thick stone wall snaked around the castle, standing high and mighty above the town below. It was at least thirty times Lyme's height so no one had any chance of scaling it without a really tall ladder or a long rope. It was protected by seventeen massive circular towers that bulged out of the walls, as of they were about to burst free and escape. These towers had several arrow slits that came in the shape of thin, rectangular holes cut in the stone. There was an arched stone bridge that stood over a dried-up moat, leading to a drawbridge made of hard steel that could be raised with metal chains to prevent entry into the castle. Beyond the drawbridge was an iron gate that had been opened, but one that Lyme instantly closed once all the Careers had entered the courtyard of the castle. The interior gardens were a thing of absolute splendour, forming intricate, royal patterns of red and green flora that, when observed from above, never failed to impress viewers. But what captivated Lyme the most were the mechanisms present. Trebuchets, accompanied by loads of stones and programmed to move on its own, lined a corner of the interior, just waiting for someone to use it. Also present was a wooden battering ram, with the head of a dragon on its end, ready to bring chaos and destruction to rival castles. Around the castles and three-metre thick walls were a various array of traps, from boiling cauldrons that, when switched on, would pour boiling water when it sensed heat below, indicating a target. The self-firing crossbows stationed at the arrow slits weren't half bad either, or the poisoned dart guns positioned in tiny holes at the main gate. It was a good, solid defence, one that could withstand a huge siege.
But Lyme had no intention to defend this castle or play the defensive card. Not when there were other castles just waiting to be besieged.
She was going to war with these weapons!
It turned out that the pairs from Five, Seven and Nine and the girl from Eleven, the only remaining tributes besides the Careers themselves, had teamed up to defend their castle against the oncoming siege by the Careers, led by Lyme. Their castle was an impressive one too, filled with even more traps, contraptions and defensive mechanisms. It was built on an outcrop overlooking the sea, a mighty fortress that towered over the ice-cold, blue waves below, gently lapping against the rocky shores like dogs licking their master. The walls were taller than the ones that surrounded Lyme's castle and were further protected by several towers with arrow slits and windows. The main gate was defended with a barbican that had a portcullis with several murder holes within, ready to strike down trapped invaders. In the centre of the fortress was a large keep, standing high and mighty with a foreign flag on its roof. And hidden within were seven tributes, ready to strike and defend. Lyme approached it cautiously, stopping just beyond the trebuchet-firing distance. The robotic trebuchets came to a halt beside her, as did her fellow Careers, four of whom carried the battering ram. The girl from Four stood at the flank, her crossbow in her arms as she donned a shiny silver helmet. Lyme narrowed her eyes as she scrutinised the castle carefully. From her position, it didn't seem as though there were any threats present. But she knew that there had to be at least some hidden traps in there. She could see the tips of trebuchets, waiting to release their stones into the air and crush them. On the walls were seven tiny dots, smaller than ants from her vantage point, just seven little specks buzzing about swiftly. Seven tributes, the seven lords and ladies of this castle who needed to be killed. In front of the barbican, she could just faintly make out the outline of a large punji stick trap, covered with grass and loose soil, ready to be stepped on and drag them to their painful dooms. The trap had a faint, circular outline of brownish-black, one Lyme managed to spot, thankfully. There were iron cauldrons attached to the underside of the walls, built in such a way so that attackers would hardly expect them to be there. Again, Lyme could spot them. She had learnt about these tactics when she was young. Ragnar had taught her since he had several Peacekeeper 'friends' who were willing to share all about wartime traps and tactics. Now, that knowledge was proving handy. Lyme stepped forward and raised her hand, whistling sharply. That was the signal they needed. "Fire!" she screamed as the trebuchets launched a thunderous rain of heavy stones into the air. The stones sailed through the blue, cloud-filled sky like dark balls of death, soaring high and above until they began their descent, crashing straight into the castle and punching big, fat holes both in the walls and in the inner sections. Piles of rubber and metal came crashing down, taking several trebuchets and other traps with them. In the distance, Lyme heard faint screams from the tiny specks and soon, a cannon boomed. Someone had died in the opening fire and more were to come. In response, the castle's defenders fired several stones at them too, one of which narrowly missed the girl from Four but punched a big enough hole to drag her in. Her District partner barely managed to grab her hand and save her. "Come on!" Lyme shouted, standing firm amidst the ongoing rain of stony missiles. "Charge!" A trebuchet launched a stone into the air and it blasted the ground above the punji stick trap, not only exposing it, but also destroying most of the spikes, nullifying a blatant threat. Then, all hell broke loose.
Lyme snarled.
The boy from Seven gritted his teeth as his District partner's body lay trapped in the rubble, a stone from a trebuchet having smashed right through her head.
This was war!
Lyme led the Fours around to the left side of the castle, into a gaping hole in the wall as Musashi went the other way with the Ones. She danced around suspected traps, traps which she made sure the Fours could avoid too. A cauldron of boiling hot water began to turn over and Lyme rolled away just in time to avoid getting burnt alive. An arrow emerged from an arrow slit, one doused in gasoline and lit with fire, nearly severing the boy from Four's throat but instead, it lodged itself into the grass behind him, as did several other similar arrows shooting out of all parts of the fortress. Soon, the ground was set ablaze, threatening to burn up the whole outcrop and devastate any who remained in the ground. Lyme dodged one final tumbling section of the wall and made her way into the castle. She had to duck and squirm in order to get through the hole, all the while keeping her dagger and halberd steady, ready for an attack. As soon as she stepped inside, there was no time to admire the wide courtyards, the medieval chapel, the impressive keep. No, the pair from Six had come charging in, carrying shields with gold linings and a red cross in its centre and long, thin spears in their bony, wire-thin hands. Their breath reeked of morphling, a smell that almost made Lyme pass out but she remained strong, charging at them with the fishers from Four by her side, ready to kill. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Musashi and the pair from One had made it thorough a hidden tunnel into the castle and were fighting the surprisingly strong boy from Nine, clad in chainmail armour and wielding a morning star. Musashi also had chainmail armour and was wielding a large, Norman sword in his right hand. Oh, yes, he was a right-hander. His chances were bleak, considering the staggering number of left-handed Victors, in Lyme's opinion. But that was not the issue now. She stared coldly at the pair from Six, challenging them to approach. They did, charging at her as they yelled loud war cries. The girl from Four fired her crossbow twice, the first arrow hitting a shield, the second hitting the drugged boy's ankle. He howled as he dropped his shield, allowing Lyme to advance forward and slice his head off. The girl from Six screamed, her face contorting in sheer horror before she regained composure, enough composure to hurl a spear at the fisher girl's throat. Boom! Boom! Two cannons boomed in the distance. Lyme quickly lunged forward, seizing advantage of the now weaponless girl's paralysis of fear and knocking her to the ground. She was about to slit her throat with a dagger when, all of a sudden, the boy from Four burst forward and struck the girl's body with a flail, a long, brown stick with a striking head of spikes attached to a chain on one end. He screamed and struck her chest with so much hatred and violence, slashing and spilling her blood in such a beastly manner, Lyme stepped back and gazed at him warily. He had a deranged, crazed look in his eyes, as if he were about to rip anything in sight to shreds. Just as Lyme considered attacking him, another cannon boomed. She turned and saw that the girl from One had stabbed the boy from Nine through the chest with a spear. The boy gaped at her with wide, dead eyes, a haunting reminder of the arena they were in. "One more to go!" Lyme shouted.
"Where the hell is Lumber Boy?" Musashi shouted back, looking around frantically for any signs of the dark-haired, tall, cunning boy from Seven with ravenous eyes.
Lyme looked around too. "I don't know," she admitted, trying her best to spot any signs of movement, but there were none. "Maybe he's in the dungeons?"
"I'm pretty sure I saw him running into the chapel," the boy from One claimed. "Maybe we should check there?"
Lyme was about to agree, when, all of a sudden, a loud bang filled the air, like one big explosion that had erupted out of the blue. A white blast of powder filled the air, engulfing Musashi and the Ones in a blanket of thick, snow-white substance. Lyme and the boy from Four backed away as screams erupted from within the blanket of powder swirling through the air, the agony of their harrowed voices piercing through Lyme's ears. "Argh, please, Lyme!" she could hear Musashi desperately scream and for once, she felt a pang of something different towards the Mushy Career boy. Sympathy. There he was, emerging and bursting out of the blanket, his arms flailing around wildly in a panicked frenzy of pandemonium, his skin covered from head to toe with frightening, red boils that looked simply gruesome. Musashi was unrecognisable, a zombie compared to his buff, handsome, past self. The pair from One was nowhere to be seen as the two cannons boomed, Lyme presumed, were for them. Musashi's eyes were red and yet a terrifying blank slate. It took a couple more stumbles from Musashi for Lyme to realise that he was blind. She gasped. "What is that thing?" she yelped.
The boy from Four shook his head, equally confused. "I-I don't know."
Musashi crumbled to a heap in front of Lyme, gasping and moaning in sheer, horrific pain. He let out a low cry of agony and tears burst from his once strong, powerful black eyes. "Please, Lyme, please..." he begged, his voice cracking from the onrushing fit of sobs. "Please, I just want to see my brother again..." Lyme knew exactly what he meant. His brother had died in a fire two years before and Ragnar had claimed that the pair were close. She gritted her teeth as she realised what he was asking her to do.
A mercy kill.
She raised her dagger and fighting back tears, whispered, "Rest in peace, Musashi." Then, she brought it down and the cannon boomed. A beam of sunlight shone over the fallen warrior's body, coating his shock of black hair with brilliant light, bathing it with a fresh, warm glow. In the breeze, in the midst of chaos, several dragonflies made their way into the castle, encircling him, like a troupe of fairies about to escort him to heaven. To his brother and his aunt who had died in the arena. His aunt Ingrid, the first tribute to ever die in the arena. Lyme raised her hand and gave him a salute but before she could dwell on the moment of sadness, the boy from Seven, at long last, showed up, a wide, sadistic smirk on his face as he approached, a halberd in each hand, a bronze helmet on his head, a relatively weak breastplate on his chest. Lyme stood up and glared at him, the anger of Musashi's horrific death swallowing her up. "That was a dirty trick, you freak!"
The boy, Hollis, cackled cruelly, swinging his halberds around. "Ah, I bet your friends enjoyed the quick lime, eh?" He chuckled to himself, as if this were some sick joke. The boy from Four snarled and in his deranged, angered state, charged at Hollis.
"No!" Lyme shouted but it was too late. The boy stepped on a sheet on the ground covering scattered caltrops that punctured his feet, causing him to scream and fall to the ground, landing headfirst into a tripwire that unleashed a spiked mace that plummeted into his chest. Boom! Lyme stared in horror, before quickly regaining focus. Time for the final battle.
Hollis charged first, swerving around the traps and swinging a halberd at Lyme, who dodged to the side and swung her halberd, only for the blade to clash with Hollis's. Hollis snarled, pushing his halberd hard against hers as he aimed his other halberd for another swing at her. Lyme broke the deadlock, though, dropping her halberd and causing Hollis to stumble forward. She lunged at him and stabbed his torso with her dagger. He howled in pain but managed to slash her thigh with his halberd. Pain surged through her like she had never felt before. It was ten times worse than even the worst training injuries that she had suffered, of which, she had suffered a lot. She tumbled to the ground, gritting her teeth and trying not to pass out from sheer, throbbing pain that lashed nastily at her. Her parents came into mind, no doubt desperately looking and cheering her on from the Mentoring Room. Her vow to Draco also came into mind. Suddenly, a wave of motivation rushed onto the tactician girl and she managed to hurl the dagger straight at Hollis's chest. His breastplate shattered and the dagger lodged itself into his chest. The quick lime maniac from Seven let out a choked gasp as he stared blankly at her. Lyme glared defiantly at him. "Goodbye, sucker."
Katniss and Peeta had a moment of silence for Lyme. "She was so important to the Rebellion," Katniss muttered. "She really wanted us to win."
Peeta nodded. "Yeah. She did District Two proud."
"I just hope she made it mout," Katniss muttered. There was a lingering silence after that, before Peeta finally flipped the page, revealing the next Victor. Katniss gritted her teeth. "No..."
The next boy had dark skin and short, neat black hair. He had dark eyes that stared out into the crowd with almost an empty look. The most prominent feature was his stump of a hand, not something you would expect from someone who had all the money in Panem. His lips curled into a smile, although it was definitely forced and his hands, well, hand, was behind his back in a sort of polite gesture, although a closer look would tell that there was a can of spray paint hidden in his back pocket. "Chaff Mitchell."
VICTORS
District 1-Sapphire Huntington(4), Onyx Hibonite(9), Franc Montgomery(14), Crystal Montgomery(21), Sterling Jones(25), Luxe Carmichael(36), Geneva Cooper(37), Cartier Cooper(44)
District 2-Ragnar Sveinsson(5), Reyna Boudicca(6), Draco Hadley(10), Scipio MacAllister(17), Freya Carson(22), Hercules Nichols(28), Julia Dawson(39), Brutus Gunn(42), Lyme Sveinsson(45)
District 3-Nikola Johnson(13), Gadget Schroeder(24), Beetee Latier(40)
District 4-Marina Bluebell(1), Mags Flanagan(11), Jolien Fisher(31), Timmy Fisher(32), Iris Fisher(33), Rafael Fisher(34), Coral Thiller(41)
District 5-Shocker Crimson(8), Switch Kim(19), Flash Morrison(27), Porter Tripp(38)
District 6-Ford Hamilton(20)
District 7-Hassan Greenwood(2), Jill Wilson(15), Olive Sanchez(26), Birch Davison(35)
District 8-Woof Casino(16)
District 9-Gwendolyn Whitfield(18), Laurel Flamsteel(29)
District 10-Ringo Alvarez(7), John Gatwick(23), Mare Trybull (43)
District 11-Orchid Bloom(12), Seeder Crue(30)
District 12-Axel Millar(3)
A/N: And there we go, hope you enjoyed Lyme! Uhh so yeah, this was pretty stressful to research and write since castle-building and sieges were pretty much an alien topic so hope it was worth it, especially since the last three chapters were pretty much flops, especially Cartier's. As usual, pls review and leave your thoughts down in the review section and if you have any arena ideas, uhh, mind sending them over? I'm slowly running out of these ideas haha. Stay tuned for Chaff and I'll see ya'll next time. Cheers:)