A/N: 1/16/21 It's been 9 years since I've written this story.
I was a teenager when I wrote it and, now, as an adult, I'm revisiting Savera's story with a more mature set of eyes. The storyline I am proud of, but there are layers to Savera that I didn't reveal the first time and several grammatical mistakes I'd like to fix.
If you're still interested in this story, I hope you enjoy the edits I've made. If nobody reads this, then I'll consider it a unique experience for me to revisit her story alone. I'm updating the rating to M because there are some elements to her and Seneca's relationship later that will be *ahem* mature ;)
I own Savera and my OCs, but everyone else is property of Suzanne Collins.
Let's get one thing straight. District Two was strong and the birthplace of many warriors.
I was not one of those warriors.
In fact, many days, I enjoyed sitting alone at the back of my parents' property, admiring the nearby mountains and quietly keeping an eye on the stone quarry not far from our home. Birds flying overhead brought me solace as I worked on word puzzles in a book my older brother had passed along to me.
A typical day at the Academy in District Two for me went like this.
"Hey Savera, heads up!" One of my peers yells in the training arena, built to transform teenagers like us into soldiers who would dominate in the Hunger Games. The only thing about this gesture is that it was typically followed by that same peer tossing a massive knife at my face.
Luckily, I had this trick pulled on me one too many times.
"Fuck you," I'd snap before jumping out of the blade's trajector, trying to hide the fact that I had nearly tripped over my own feet.
A chorus of laughter would explode from my fellow students as I tried to catch my breath before I became their target once again. Technically, our head trainer, Zenobia Ivory, should have prevented these actions, but she had her favorites. And I wasn't on that list.
Zenobia was one of the most intimidating women I had ever laid eyes on. She had served as a Peacekeeper for many years and had a reputation that preceded her. Once upon a time, she trained Peacekeepers and was rumored to have had more than one prospective Peacekeeper die on her watch. She always claimed it was the fault of the trainee, but eyewitnesses claimed to have seen her strangle those who underperformed with her bare hands.
"Behave!" Bellowed after my peers' jokes. Her voice matched her body type: large and intimidating.
It took all my strength to not pick the knife up and throw it right back at them. Either of my brothers would have encouraged me to stand up for myself, but every time I'd simply shake my head, pick up the knife, and toss it back into the training stack. Choosing the high road took all the strength I had, but I also wasn't at the Academy to impress anyone. These kids dreamed of being Reaped for the Hunger Games and I just wanted to return to the solace of my mountainside home.
I was most happy on days that I was not at the training academy. In fact, I enjoyed school more than I did the combat training. However, the issue was that I was required to spend so many hours at the training center whether or not I liked it. It was no secret where the priorities of District Two's leaders lay; we were a Career-factory. Sure, we needed enough of an education so that most of us could land a decent job or have the brains to not be the first killed in the Games, but academics were not the top priority.
Mentally, I would engage in debate with the leaders of District Two (because I would never dare actually argue with them in real life). In my head, I would tell them how they really wouldn't want me to go into the Hunger Games as tribute anyways…they wouldn't want someone as weak as myself to go in, get myself killed, not to mention eternally embarrassing our District's prestigious Career reputation. Therefore, it was pointless for me to train for something I would more than likely never be entered into. Sometimes, as I sat at the back of our home, I would fantasize about spending my entire day at school and never going into combat again. To me, there was nothing better than the brain teasers and puzzles that my father would bring back to me after his days working. Like many other men in our district, he was a Peacekeeper; but he was like me in that he didn't quite fit into the mold of being a Peacekeeper.
He didn't have much of a say when he was chosen to become a public servant, as they called it. He was drafted and his large build was exactly the kind of person they needed on their force.
When my family received the letter from the Capitol "requesting" his assistance, we feared that our life was going to change drastically. We had it easier than most. Dad was assigned to patrol District Two and occasionally the Capitol, which wasn't nearly as eventful as some of the outlying districts. Some of my peers talked about their parents' witnessing uprisings in districts that ultimately turned into bloodbaths.
One of my peers' bragged that her father skinned a woman alive who had stolen a loaf of bread.
The difference between me and my peers was that the sound that act still sent chills down my spine. Everyone else was numb to such a violation against humanity. In fact, many of my peers wanted to know the details should they need to use a similar technique someday.
Another benefit to having dad in with the Capitol was how much access he had to the glamorous life they led. Granted, he may not have had the best, but we lived a very comfortable life with more than most (at least from what I heard).
Unfortunately, I have very little highlights from my life in District Two to share. Of course, my family was probably the best part of my experience in the district. I had a healthy relationship with my mother and father, but I also had two brothers. Their names were Ostro and Titus. As if being picked on at the academy and training center didn't get the job done, Titus and Ostro made sure to double my teasing at home. Now, obviously, their joking truly was in jest and not murderous.
Despite the fact that I was meek in the eyes of my peers, my brothers were seen as the creme de la creme of their respective classes. Zenobia made no attempt to hide her favor for my brothers and her disdain for me. Titus and Ostro were favorites to go to the Games. Much to my mother's despair. My mother was quiet in her disapproval of District Two's bloodthirsty training center for us. My brothers would come home proud of their latest skillset learned, but she would normally respond with a simple,"That's wonderful dear. Now, please, set the table."
Titus was the eldest. He was four years older than me and Ostro was two years my elder. Titus was what every father would have dreamt of having in a son. He had a broad build and was tall. We could always count on Titus to be the de facto protector of the family. Had I not been his sister, I would have been scared to have ever made an enemy of him because of his skill with the sword, but while he was strong; he was rather slow and predictable if one paid enough attention to his movements.
Of course, not many people take the time to think this out when the adrenaline of battle kicks in. I much preferred to listen and watch rather than take action.
Ostro, on the other hand, seemed to be a mixture of both Titus and myself. He was burly and could give many of the top-ranked students a run for their money. He, like Titus, was more than likely going to be a tribute in the Games before he was 18. I always found Ostro a better sense of humor than Titus did though If I ever needed to smile, then Ostro was the person to put one on my face.
And then there was me.
Little Savera.
To say that my parents didn't expect much out of me would have been a lie. Though I may not have been as strong or robust as my brothers, they still had high expectations. In fact, they went to great lengths to try and convince Zenobia to excuse me from tactical training to increase my time in school and pursue an intelligence career. Their attempts to persuade my teachers at school fell on deft ears. They encouraged me to make the most of my studies and survive the best I could at the training center until I was eighteen and would have more freedom.
My older brothers looked similar enough to be twins with shaggy, chestnut-brown hair. My mother begged them both to keep their hair cut shorter, but neither took her advice. Ostro was more manageable with his hair and complying with mother's standards, but Titus hardly ever compiled. My hair was nearly identical to theirs and was shoulder-length. Most of the time, I pinned my hair back into a tight bun that sat on the nape of my neck.
All three of us children had large brown eyes, though Ostro's were closer to hazel, much like my mother's. I was most built like our mother. Many of our family friends commented on how much we resembled each other. She was naturally on the shorter side of the spectrum with her hair, seemingly permanently pinned atop of her head, with a curl spiraling down here and there. Father was quite the opposite, tall and sturdy with his dark hair cut very short, but both my parents had an academic side too.
Many a time, when my brothers would prank me I would try to sneak my way out of their grip in one way or another. Dad always told me that if I couldn't beat them in strength, beat them in wit.
One time in particular, I had stolen my Titus's gloves at home. I needed them to complete my latest science experience for school.
"Hey Savera!" I remember hearing Titus's voice echo from the top floor of our home. I was completing my science project in the basement.
"What?" I answered half-heartedly, pushing my hair from my face as I tried to concentrate.
"You seen my gloves?" He cried as he came barreling down the stairs and I gulped.
"I'll give them back shortly," I answered calmly this time, as I finished tying the final piece. "Just needed them for a project."
This was not the answer he was looking for. I heard him let out a groan as he quickly came down the rest of the stairs. I looked over my shoulder to see him storming toward me, determination set on his gloves tied to my newest invention. There was no way I would let him rip them from me now.
"Please, Titus, just let me-" I tried, but he simply picked up his pace.
This was my opportunity, as dad always told me to not let him pick on me because of my size. I may have only been young and not much physically speaking, but mentally I was much stronger. I knew this to the core of my being. It was the motivation that kept me going.
I watched his footsteps, one after one as he came sailing toward me. Initially, I knew he would go for under my arms (my weak spot). If I allowed him to get me there, then I would have no chance, but if I could get around that….then I had a chance.
Step. Step. Step.
He was large and slightly uncoordinated. He was predictable. My size that was usually a flaw was going to be working against my sibling this time. Quickly, just before his hands could touch me, I ducked down and slid out of his reach. He swore under his breath before turning swiftly to meet my face, this was far too predictable as I slid out of his reach, sliding between his wide-stance legs back toward my project that he was standing over.
"Savera!" He yelled as I held them behind my back.
"Titus, please just let me finish and I will be more than happy to give them back," I said quickly, pulling myself to my feet opposite him as he turned and shook his head, though he had done little already, he simply shook his head and waved me off.
"Just do what you need to do," He grumbled, walking away, done with the game as he went back to the house. I simply shrugged my shoulders and sat back down to my contraption.
I smirked at my small win.
My brothers and father fit into the district very nicely. They were well-liked around town and had a good reputation. Even though mother was more meek, she could at least find common ground to speak with them at the market or on dinner nights. It wasn't a secret that I was different, but it didn't bother me. I had a place that I belonged, looking at the mountains and learning as much as I could.
I put up with the bullying at school, but that didn't mean I was weak. In fact, I remember one time in particular when I had enough.
One of the older girls had come up on me, playing around with a knife. She was proud of this new grip she had learned and decided that I was the perfect target to use it on.
"Hey Savera, wanna learn a new trick?" She growled, stepped toward me with the blade in her hand.
I swallowed hard, looking at the knife.
"No," I said firmly.
She rolled her eyes and muttered," Bitch."
My father's words about using my wit immediately came to mind. She was slow to move and my eyes caught her feet. I sidestepped her attack and swiftly pinned her arms from behind.
"Goddamn it, let me go you little weirdo," She squealed.
I pulled back one of her hands until the blade fell to the ground. I quickly reached down to pick it up and rolled my eyes at her before walking away. My wit didn't come for free, though.
Zenobia was less than thrilled to hear this. The girl that was pestering me happened to be her daughter. She made sure to send me into the practice arena against one of the more vicious boys. I remember having bruises so deep from all of the times being continually hit from him. Days later, my whole body seemed to be covered in discoloring.
My parents were furious, but they dared not stand up to her. She was linked with the Capitol in ways that we dared not meddle in. Any bad word with the Capitol could not only mean my father losing his job, but also all of us simply…"disappearing" for better or worse terms.
One girl, I remember, I would speak with every so often. Her hair was raven-black and I actually began to make a companion of her. Her name was Wren and she, like me, was not one of the best fighters. We relied on our ability to be cunning every once and a while to get us out of a difficult situation.
Were we the best of friends? Surely not, but it was nice not to be alone. She at least stood up for me against the others and I for her.
Every year, I remember the weeks leading to the Reaping. The day when the two tributes would be chosen for the Hunger Games. It was more of a scheme than anything. Always, the oldest and most experienced ones in the entire academy would be scheduled to volunteer for whomever it was that was chosen. For some reason, I couldn't help but think it was defeating the system, but if it was, then the Capitol hardly seemed to care. Our district seemed to be on decent terms with the Capitol.
Training was always cranked up nearly twice as hard during the week of the Reaping, meaning I had to scurry around even more than I normally had to while up against another.
I was dodging twice as many spears and twice as many knives during those weeks. I was the perfect target practice for the students primed to be the top picks for that year. There were plenty of close calls, a scrape here or there, but any chance that I got to leave the practice to go mend my wounds…I gladly took and even drew it out to be a little worse than what it was if it meant I got a few more minutes of solitude.
Year after year, as I grew older, I began counting down the days until I could leave the training center and not have to come back anymore. The days when I would not have to listen to Zenobia yell at me to actually fight back and not act like a "weakling".
If being a weakling kept me alive, then I was satisfied with being a weakling.
The days when I could go out into the District and make a living for myself as something other than a fighter that I was clearly not.
"Who do you think is going to get it this year?" Wren asked me one day as we came out of the practice arena, sweating from all of the running (dodging knives) we had been doing.
I remember pulling my hair back and letting out a deep sigh, the Reaping was two days away," I don't know. I guess I don't really care much."
She shrugged her shoulders as we approached the water station," I don't either. Mostly I just want to know whose ass we won't have to deal with anymore.."
I smiled at her, laughing as I said."I guess you're right. Any of the Seniors this year. They've all come at me with a knife one too many times."
"I agree," She said reassuringly, tucking a strand of her black hair out of her face. We were standing in line for the water station and just as one of the eldest boys named Flux, got his drink. Flux was stuck on himself not because he was one of the most skilled out of the lot of us, but also because his father was a victor of the Hunger Games awhile back.
As expected, he enjoyed flaunting his power over the rest of us. He was careful to knock over the container filled with water at that moment, simply to make it difficult for Wren and I. The sweat dripping from my face and the heat naturally coming from my body after the physical exertion naturally went up as I glared at him. Flux was smirking at us with those bright green eyes as he walked away. A lot of the girls were swooning over Flux and pining over getting a kiss from him. He was known to have several makeout buddies who he was stringing along at any given time.
Arrogance. Ugh.
Zenobia happened to witness this act. For the first time, I thought that maybe he would get punished for his actions…but her eyes bore into Wren and I before she growled," Clean up the mess."
Rather than argue, I breathed out heavily and turned to get the cleaning supplies. My brother Ostro, happened to witness this as well. He was training with the rest of his class on the other side of the room. Very few times would he stand up for me in a very public manner, because mother and father wished for me to fight my own battles, but I watched as he bit down hard on his lip.
"Ostro, please no," I muttered to him as Wren and I continued walking, simply wishing to clean up the mess.
"Savera, this is absolutely ridiculous!" He muttered to me, as the others stood, laughing in a huddle as they sipped their water. "Take my water."
He handed me his bottle, full of water, before storming over to the group of them. I could have stopped him, but it wasn't worth the fight. I simply sipped the water and passed it on to Wren as Ostro made a direct call out.
"Flux!" He called, standing up tall as the dark haired boy turned around, clearly oblivious to what was wrong for he had a grand, award-winning smile on his face.
"Hey man, what's-" Flux tried to ask stepping toward him, but before he could finish his sentence, Ostro had already reared back and swung hard against the boy's face with his curled up fist.
Zenobia's hawk-like eyes shot over and she glided over as quickly as her legs could carry her. Immediately, she pulled along two of the other older boys, my brother Titus being one of them. By the time they had ripped the two away from one another, Ostro was spitting blood from his mouth and Flux had a prominent black eye.
Both of them received an ear-full, especially Ostro who was expected to set a better example than to attack another "elite". Though she didn't directly say it like that, she most certainly insinuated it.
Titus held up Ostro as they approached Wren and I again, Flux went into the opposite direction. I simply looked at Wren and shook my head, slightly embarrassed at the sight of this.
"You should have just let it go," I mumbled to him as Titus sat him down on the bench toward the back of the room, Wren and I gathering around.
"Someone needed to stand up to him," Titus added, grabbing an ice pack from around the corner where we knew they would be found.
I glared at my brother who had not been involved," Don't encourage it."
"It is true, Savera," Wren added quietly, assessing the damage done to Ostro's bloody lip. "Someone needs to."
I sighed, seeing that there was no winning this argument. Though, I did look over my shoulder to see the rest of the academy swarming around Flux to make sure that he was alright. For some reason, the sight of their group of roughly twenty looked much more appealing than our small group of four. To use the Capitol's words in context," The odds were not ever in our favor," should we ever stand up to them in reality.
Every year, a list was posted of those who were eligible to volunteer. One year in particular, Flux, Titus, and Ostro were the three main prospects. It was expected that one of the three and only one of the three would be the male tribute. I paid little attention to the female tributes due to the fact that I had none of them as family members…nor were Wren or I anywhere near being eligible to volunteer. The rest of the girls were disposable to me, as sad as that may seem. Over the days prior to the Reaping, the heads of the academy would set the top three against one another and then judge them in a manner very similar to how they would in the Capitol. On the day of the Reaping, the best of the best would be informed that they were to volunteer themselves.
I suppose that was the bright side: those at the bottom never had to worry about being reaped because someone at the top would certainly take their place.
Even if my name were to be reaped, I knew that I hadn't much to worry over. District Two wouldn't dare send someone such as myself in…there were other Career prospects who would out shadow me. In fact, I am fairly certain that I would not even compare in the slightest to any of the oldest girls.
Though I was not the topic of concern in our house, mother and father were still a nervous wreck in the days leading up to the reaping. Two of their three children were the top picks for being in the Games. They stayed at the top of the list for several years and eventually the time would have to come when one of them was sent into the games. I remember watching the fights in the academy and not being able to imagine either of my brothers actually killing someone else.
Yet, I was going to have to get used to the thought for one year, the large trainer showed up on our doorstep with news that Titus would be the one to represent District Two in the Hunger Games.
Author's Note: I've left some of the original language and tried to update as much as possible. Let me know what you think! Upon re-reading I realized how insecure Savera sounded and she really had more confidence than I believe was originally portrayed. Any comments or reviews you have are welcome.
