Disclaimer: I don't own Hunger Games.

Song Suggestion: Hollywood Undead- "Lion" This song might just become the anthem to this whole story. It fits everything and describes Cato perfectly. I was so excited when I found it.

Thank You: HeyBirdy, katnisseverdeendistrict12 (for 2 reviews!), 13Kali, Bea0407, K.C., Jaclyn840, Rachel, Lily, 3vlee, Damnage, SweetStarre123, and a Guest!

Lessons in Warfare

"Let me go!" Prim seethed, pulling her arm down to get out of his hold. It was starting to hurt. "We're halfway across the room. I think we're out of danger."

The people around the room continued with their grueling workout, but they watched them out of the corner of their eyes.

"So you'll flirt with one murderer but not another? You're such a fucking hypocrite." He whispered into her ear. The low tones vibrated her eardrum, sending unexpected shock waves down her spine into her toes.

"I wouldn't call that flirting. Just talking."

"Talking, huh? I'm tempted to staple your lips shut. You've no idea what you… your admission… You don't even realize do you? Do you even remember who he is? You need to be on your toes here, or else the people will eat you alive."

Did Cato just tell Prim to watch out for unsavory characters? That was a hilarious joke no one could laugh at. But his worry seemed real enough.

Jacen Hartline. The name rang a bell, but the face didn't. His eyes searched her face.

"Shit, you really don't." He released her arm. "Hartline—the victor. Jace the Mace?"

A victor. She flipped past the games she'd seen, but still drew blanks. After Cato won the Quarter Quell, Prim swore off watching the games. She spent those moments in the woods with Gale, lazing in the sun, feeling the life brimming, shooting her bow. She liked to believe that one day everyone would stop.

She could care less if he was a victor. Cato had no right to grab her and order her like he did.

Or maybe he did. She wasn't sure. The details of the Manato code were still a little fuzzy.

Regardless, it irked her.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"He seemed nice enough."

"Nice?" Cato struggled to control his facial expressions. The edges of his lips jumped up and down. "Baby, he'd tear you apart. He's sick. His women… He likes to…" He didn't finish, but she wanted him to.

He liked to do what?

His name clicked into place. She didn't watch the games, but there was no ignoring the gossip, especially in school. Jacen Hartline: the victor of the 76th hunger games. He had been eighteen, and everyone knew he'd win from the beginning. The boys that sat behind her in class had betted on it. After the games, no one talked about how he won, which seemed odd at the time. But there were whispers. Horrors. He'd done something in the games that didn't sit well with people. She couldn't remember. But-

"He's from district 1. What is he doing here?"

"District 1 and 2 have a special relationship. We each allow a visit from the other side to improve each other, test each other, and scope each other out. It's how we stay on top of the game. See that brawny boy over there, the one with the long hair, throwing the spear," he pointed to the corner. The giant chucked his spear, splitting the target. "That's Ace, Hartline's chosen tribute. His older half-brother was Marvel from my games," he turned to her, "The one your sister shot through the heart. I wouldn't tell him you're related, if I were you—he still holds quite the grudge. It must have been horrible for him that his brother not only didn't win, but was defeated by an outlying district, and a girl at that. He's here to practice against my tribute, Nero."

The size difference was laughable, like comparing a shrimp to a lobster.

"Nero looks like he doesn't stand a chance."

"Don't base your judgment on size. Skill is more important. District 1 favors brawn; I tend to favor intelligence. Ace may be a big brute, but he's stupid, which gets you killed quick."

"Like his brother," I sneered. Marvel had been a pathetic character.

Cato nodded, "Yes, Marvel was stupid. Instead of plotting, he antagonized your sister without a true plan, when we still had no idea how she received an 11."

"I thought you hated my sister?"

"Only because she was formidable, a freak of nature. She almost beat me, even though she was a weak female. That's something few people can boast about, female or not." He admitted, turning away to watch the future tributes, "I choose all my tributes with her in mind. She did maim me, remember?"

He held up his hand, showing a finger cut to the first joint. Oh, yeah. It was easy to forget about it, especially since he fought just as easily with his left hand as with his right now.

Prim couldn't believe she was having a normal conversation about her sister's death with her sister's killer, but he was almost complimenting Katniss.

"Pick up a sword," Cato demanded out of nowhere.

Prim startled, not understanding.

"What? Why?"

"You wanted to train, right?"

"I meant with the bow. Not with that," she grimaced at the sword, which caused Cato to grin.

Cato flipped the sword, holding the blade instead of the hilt.

"Catch."

Prim fumbled with it, almost cutting herself in the process. She grabbed the hilt with both hands and with effort lifted it into the air. It wobbled, swaying despite her effort to control.

Cato walked to the weapons rack, picking a similar sword in length and size. He gave a few practice slashes, twirling it by his side. He only needed one hand to hold the hilt.

"Meet me in the center. Your true training will commence."

Thirty Minutes Later

Prim stared at him, unsure how to begin. Her breath was labored even though she hadn't even moved yet. The entire center had shut down. Cato called the signal for the end of the day. The men looked at the curiously, but did as they were told.

Nero, Jacen, and Ace were the last to leave. Jacen was in corner helping Ace do some cool down stretches. Nero stood off to the side with Cato, having a discussion.

"Tonight alternate cool and hot baths. I don't want you too sore for tomorrow."

Nero groaned under his breath, obviously exhausted. It pissed off Cato, his face snarled.

"Nothing in this world is for free brat. Do you think I am where I am without some sweat and blood? Whatever your competitors are bleeding," he nodded to Ace, "You must bleed an ounce more. Only then will you be a champion. If I have to, I'll bring in Vixor to discuss the finer points."

Nero shook his head with wide eyes.

"Good. Then do what I say and have a better attitude tomorrow."

Nero trudged out. Ace and Jacen followed shortly. She could feel the eyes of Jacen on her, but didn't look at him, not sure she wanted to see what was in his eyes.

The doors slammed, leaving Prim to stare at Cato. Alone. Her actions for the day seemed to flatten her. She teased a devil, and now she was secluded. She trembled. All of her confidence dripped out with her sweat, leaving her vulnerable. She understood something then that she didn't earlier. Many women manipulated men to get what they want, but they also understood the methods of payment.

She didn't want to pay. She wouldn't pay. Not ever. Not with him.

Cato smirked at her, getting into position. He held the sword upright, crouching slightly, legs spread. One foot farther in front than the other.

She tried to copy him the best she could.

"I'll correct your form later, once I know what I'm dealing with."

Prim frowned, mad that she was already getting things wrong.

Cato began to travel in a slow circle. Prim followed, again, tripping over her feet every now and then. She waited for him to attack, but it never came. Her brain worked its best magic in an attempt to anticipate his moves, but reflexes needed to practice to work efficiently, and hers were weak. Shooting a still target didn't take much skill. Fighting another person, with all the unexpected twists and turns was infinitely harder.

"Your move, baby."

Prim struck out, using all her force, but Cato swatted her sword away calmly.

"Don't attack overhead unless you can overpower me."

He swung at her. She barely blocked it. The edge came within an inch of her skin. She stared at the blade for a moment before back-pedaling in fear.

"You almost cut me! I thought this was practice."

Cato shrugged as if he just didn't almost chop her in half.

"You'll learn faster when something's at stake. "

It made sense. If she wanted to kill Cato, she had to learn to fight flesh and blood and in real time.

"Next time don't block with the edge. You'll ruin and weaken your sword. I'll go slower with the next one. Be on your toes."

He went slower, but it still came down like lightning. This time she parried with the flat part of her sword. It was awkward.

"Good. Again." He gave no breaks. He must not be going hard or fast, for him at least, but it felt like a marathon to her.

"Remember where the weakness of the sword lies," he said, hitting the top of her sword and forcing her blade down, sliding his sword along the edge in a path towards her heart. She wiggled out of the way just in time before the blade stuck her. "It's simple leverage. Don't block me with the tip it gives me the advantage, especially if more of the force is from my blade."

She breathed hard, trying to control her fear.

After a minute or two, her arms burned like fire. She almost cried out with each impact, unsure if she had enough energy to continue.

"Anything else helpful?"

"Yes, let this be your lesson."

She couldn't get it up in time. The sword nicked her arm. She hissed in pain.

Cato had stopped it before it went far enough to do serious damage.

Prim leaned over and gripped her arm, not able to hold in her cry of pain. The pressure was the only thing that soothed it.

Cato dropped his sword and came over, pulling up her sleeve and ripping the cloth off. There was a two inch cut on the top of her arm. It bled, but it wasn't deep or wide enough to need stitches.

His lips came down and kissed the wound. She flinched, trying to get away from him, but he held her still.

He glanced at her. Her blood tinted his lips, making him seem slightly unhinged.

"I'm not sorry for it. I warned you. Punishment was required. All day you played a game you don't understand. In the end, it only made things worse for yourself."

Prim winced when she jostled the wound. The stinging was there, but it was turning dull.

"You can't win against me. Not now, not even after a million years of training. I had to try hard not to hurt you. Just imagine for a moment my full force. It's important you understand this."

"Why?"

"Life would be more simple."

"What do you want from me?"

"To give in. Stop fighting the brick wall. It won't move."

Give in to what? What did he want her to give? Her body, her heart, her obedience? His motivation was unclear. He spoke in riddles.

"You're wrong. That would be the hardest thing to do."

"For a time." His fingers rubbed over the wound. The pressure soothed it. "It would eventually become habit."

"Use the cloth," Prim said, changing the conversation, "Wrap it around the wound tight. I don't think I'll need stitches."

Cato looked annoyed at the sudden switch, but didn't push.

"We have doctors here who can determine that."

"I don't need them. I'm capable of taking care of myself. It was how I made a living."

Cato leaned down and kissed her wound again. He raised an eyebrow.

"What about infections?"

"I have a salve I can make at home, if you'll provide the ingredients. Or I can find them outdoors, if they grow here. I prefer that, since I know the product is fresh."

His eyebrow stayed raised. "Impressive. But backwoods treatments are a thing of the past now that you live with me."

He ripped part of his shirt to make a strip of cloth, wrapping it around the wound and tying it off tightly. It hurt, but she kept her mouth shut about it.

"My mother was not just backwoods. She was the most renowned healer in district 12. Even peacekeepers, fully capable of getting Capitol medicine, came to her first. Everything I do has been learned under her direct care."

He grunted, picking his sword back up and inspecting it. Then he smirked, laughing a little under his breath.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Just it fits you somehow. A healer. You certainly couldn't hurt anything."

Prim agreed with him, but felt offended. Who was he to know what she was about?

"How would you know? You've barely been around me. I could hurt something if I had to… I could." It came off weak, as if she was trying to convince herself.

"You could, huh?" He smirked, "Go on." He stepped forward, flipping the sword again in his hand, grasping the blade in his hands. He held the hilt out to her for her to take it.

"What?" She took a step backwards.

"I said go on. Hurt me. I won't stop you, promise." He held it out, then became impatient, shaking it at her with a sudden scowl, "Take it."

She gripped it. The tip fell to the floor with a clang, and she lifted it up again with a grunt, trying to ignore the burning that came from her upper shoulder. Once it was up in the air, Cato transferred the blade to the middle of his stomach.

"This will be your only chance. I know you've wanted to do this every second for the past six years."

Tempting. Oh, how she wanted to do it. But it betrayed her soul. She couldn't stand to see death and agony. It always left a bitter taste in her mouth. If she pushed, she would cease to be Prim, the little girl whose older sister volunteered for her. "Tuck your tail in, little duck." The words haunted her dreams. She had to stay that same little girl in spirit. For her sister. For her sacrifice. Or else it was all in vain.

"One push and you'll be free. "

She pulled the point from his stomach. The enormity of what he asked of her became clear, and she almost vomited. She felt the acid at the back of her throat, threatening to come up.

"No I won't. If I do that, I'll never be free."

Cato's eyes darkened. Not with desire or anger, but something else. Almost sad. It boiled.

"No," he placed a hand over where the point had been. "No, you wouldn't."

He glanced at his hands and turned away from her to place his sword back on the rack.

She wanted to throw her sword at his back in a sudden fit of anger.

He stole everything from her. Even the hope of killing him.