"Warriors Forged"

A/N: POVs in these intros are likely going to be lopsided often times. I've decided to do away with trying to fit a specific word count anymore, because I think that forces me to reveal too little or too much of characters sometimes. For some characters I need to show their whole back story to you, while others I want to leave more mysterious. That being said, characters who have shorter intro chapters will get longer POVs in future chapters. It'll all balance out. I just think this way we can focus on the most important parts of these characters' stories, instead of just skimming over all 22 of them.

PS: Idun is pronounced (eye-din)

~Even when the dark comes crashing through

When you need a friend to carry you

And when you're broken on the ground

You will be found~

Troy Magnison, 18

10 Years Ago

It was bedtime. Troy loathed bedtime. He'd much rather be outside into the darkest hours of the night, believing himself to be some fierce warrior in the faraway lands that the woods outside their secluded home were. The flimsy twig he gripped in his hands would be a longsword that he would use to cut down hordes of enemies single-handedly, a hero that defended his family. To him this was more than just pretend play, this was a dream. It was a dream that would sometimes feature just him versus impossible odds, but it would also often be a dream he shared. A world where he and his little sister Idun would fight side by side, an inseparable duo (aside from those times they bickered and refused to be seen anywhere near each other, and swore that they would never, ever forgive the other for whatever trivial thing they had done to annoy each other) that together, were unstoppable.

Sadly for Troy, nowhere in this dream of his could he fit in being forced into his pajamas and tucked away under his covers. Idun had suggested that it was like they were being held prisoner by the wicked jail keepers that their parents were (and with how strict they were, and how seldom they were seen, he thought the description wasn't far off for the two parents), but Troy had just laughed and brushed that suggestion aside. After all, nobody could possibly capture the great Troy Magnison.

Instead, Troy would just lay on his side, and glance out the window by the side of his bed, where the night looked so empty, dark, and lifeless, yet the sky twinkled with life and promises of adventures yet to come.

"Hey, Idun," Troy asked in a soft whisper, knowing that his parents would be furious if he were still awake, and not wanting to wake his sister if she had accomplished what he could not.

"Yeah?" She replied in a soft tone, voice betraying no hints of the sleepiness one would expect out of an elementary schooler who had spent the day play-fighting in the woods.

Troy flipped over, facing his sister. Both of them were dressed in blue, full-body pajamas, and tucked under their blankets. Between the two small beds was empty floor space, littered with twigs and rocks and stained with mud and dirt. Their mom had yelled at them both for that earlier, even when Troy lied and said that it was only him.

"Have you ever thought about going into the Hunger Games?" Troy asked. His parents would be far away in the large, empty house, but he still kept his voice in a hushed whisper all the same.

Idun scrunched up her nose. "No, why?"

Troy picked at his clothes, his pale blue eyes twinkling as they gazed across the great divide. "Just imagine, getting to be a victor, like Galavant. You'd be a hero."

"Wouldn't you be scared?" Idun asked, quickly abandoning her hushed tone.

Troy scoffed. "Of course not," the boy said proudly. "I'm not scared of anything."

"Well, I'd be scared," she replied in a sure voice. She reached towards a stuffed bear that laid on the floor, squeezing tightly onto it.

"You wouldn't need to be, I'd go with you. We'd fight off everybody together." Troy made swooshing noises as he pretended to swing a sword back and forth.

Idun giggled, joining in as she flailed her arm back and forth, being sure to hold onto her stuffed bear the whole time.

"Of course," Troy casually said, suddenly looking more serious. "We'd have to fight each other at the end."

"I'd kick your butt." Idun giggled.

Troy snorted, flopping over onto his opposite side so that he faced the night sky again. "Yeah, right. Little sisters don't beat up big brothers."

"I'm only one year younger!" Idun exclaimed. "It would be easy. I'd be like, chyoo, chyoo-" Idun trailed off, making more sound effects as she gave the play-by-play on how she would defeat him.

He wasn't listening much anymore though. From two stories below, Troy made out the faintest echo of a loud cracking sound. Idun seemed to hear it too, her voice dissipating into quietness as the two laid down for a while in silence.

A scream broke the silence, one that both siblings immediately recognized, followed by pounding footsteps and other muffled noises that neither could discern.

Troy flipped around, climbing to his feet just as Idun did the same. No words were needed to communicate, a single look in the eyes saying enough between the two. Mom just screamed. She might be in trouble.

From there, no more doubt could be had. Idun was the first to move, rushing towards the door, her bare feet stomping across the carpet as she leapt up to pull the door open. Troy thought for a fraction of a moment about stopping her. He was her big brother, and something dangerous might be going on downstairs. He wondered if maybe he should focus on keeping her safe, and let his mom and dad deal with whatever's happening downstairs. Maybe there was a wild animal downstairs, and he was about to let Idun run right into trouble.

But his own curiosity outweighed that thought, and he found himself squeezed next to Idun as the two crept down the stairs, hopping on their tip-toes to avoid making any noise. Troy felt a burst of adrenaline, feeling his dreams coming true. His mind raced with ideas of the dangers that lay below them. His mother and father hiding on a table, while a pack of ravenous dogs lept at their feet. Or maybe the two were viciously fighting a wild bear, and Troy would leap onto its back, tackling it down to the ground. No matter what was down there, him and Idun would face it, together.

The two children turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, and swung out into the living room. What awaited them wasn't dogs or bears or snakes. His parents weren't hiding on top of the table, or fending them off with pots and pans as they dodged around the sofas and footrests.

His mom laid on the carpeted floor, eyes barely open as red liquid oozed out of her forehead. His dad was on his knees, head down in shame. Four men dressed in fancy suits stood across his parents, three of them holding pistols while a fourth held a metal bat. Blood dripped from the handle of one of the guns, leaving red splotches on the vibrant green carpet.

"Mommy!" Idun screamed, that heroic image shattering in an instant. Troy tried to reach out to stop his sister, but she slipped through his grip as she ran towards her mom.

One of the men caught her, effortlessly pulling her into the air by her shirt. Troy saw his father lift his head, and felt his blood go cold at the look of terror that spread across his features.

"Pl-please, just leave them alone, they-"

Another man spat at him. "Be quiet."

The world didn't slow down. There was no dramatic moment where time seemed to freeze in place. Troy didn't watch on in horror, knowing what was happening but unable to stop it. The moment passed by with as much urgency as any other, and Troy didn't realize that his mother had been shot until the bullet had already entered her skull, and the faintest light that was left in her eyes faded away to darkness.

Troy screamed. He wasn't in control of himself as he ran towards the man nearest him, blindly raising his fists as tears pooled up in his eyes. He didn't, couldn't understand what was going on, not really. But the devastation in his father's eyes, the high-pitched squealing that came from Idun as she struggled to get free, the empty look in his mother's eyes, all of it pooled together. Troy felt a simmering, overwhelming feeling rise from inside of him that he couldn't comprehend and couldn't control. All he wanted was to just scream, and hit something.

The man didn't give him the chance. He flicked the bat effortlessly as Troy ran towards him, and the boy barely saw the flash of metal before he felt a dull pain in his head. That moment was just as brief, however, and before long that feeling faded to nothing, just as much as everything else.

~.~.~.~.~

Before he could peel open his eyes, before the searing pain in his head flared up, or he tasted the blood that pooled up in his mouth, Troy smelled smoke. He jolted to a start, violently coughing as he stumbled to his feet. He was dizzy, the world spinning and dipping up and down, all while a constant pain pounded against his skull. If he had eaten anything he would have thrown it up, but as it stood he keeled over and heaved, barely avoiding falling forward as he did so.

Troy managed to stay on his feet though. He blinked back tears from his eyes, continuing to cough as his vision began to stabilize. All around him the world was illuminated in a red haze. Fire crackled throughout the house, in the kitchen, in the study, and from up the stairs. The only room it hadn't fed into yet was the living room that he stood in, alone.

"Idun!" Troy screamed, though his voice came out in a raspy whisper, so hoarse that he could barely hear himself.

Blood stained the carpet, more than had been there before, but his mom, his dad, Idun, all of them were gone. Troy tried to think. He tried to figure out where they could be, what happened, what was happening now, why one moment he was with his family and the next he was alone. The more he tried to focus on any of these thoughts, the farther away they seemed to drift. He couldn't organize his thoughts at all, and so he all he could do was follow his most raw instinct he felt.

Troy ran towards the door. It was cracked open ever so slightly, and be barreled through it, stumbling down the handful of stone stone steps before falling to the ground, collapsing into the grass. He hacked and wheezed, desperately breathing in the fresh air, letting it fill his lungs. He brought his hand up to his head, and when he brought it down, saw blood dripping from his fingers.

He looked up at his home, and watched as it burned. Pillars of smoke rose from the roof, snaking off into the sky. Troy looked around him, and noticed that he was alone. He had just enough sense left in him to put together what that meant.

There was no hesitation as Troy ran back through the doorway, and into the home. The fire had spread now, half of the living room on fire, and the smoke piling up so that the air turned black in all but the lowest corners of the house. Both staircases were still in tact as well, and Troy made his way to the nearer of the pair, keeping low to the floor as he felt his way up the stairs.

"Idun!" He tried to scream again, though again his voice was charred, barely rising above a hoarse whisper.

His foot searched blindly for the next step, and it missed its target. Troy felt himself falling, stumbling down the stairs and crashing onto the landing just next to the front door. All his energy sapped from him, and he felt himself slipping back into darkness, smoke clogging up his lungs as air was refused entry.

Troy felt an arm on his shoulder, and he thrashed out his limbs. He felt hope rise in him, expecting to turn around and see his mother or his father there to rescue him, or Idun there to help him stumble out the door to safety.

When he was spun around, he wasn't met with the familiar sight he had been hoping for. White, armored arms reached out for him, lifting him into the air and stomping towards the exit. He opened his mouth, wanting to yell at the Peacekeeper, to tell them to go back, to find Idun, but all that came from him was another cough.

As they stepped through the door, Troy caught one last glimpse of his home, the green carpet, velvet sofas, and low-hanging chandeliers that he and Idun would swing across. His eyes slid closed, and in another moment that vivid image was just a blurry memory of which he could only trace the faintest of outlines.

~.~.~.~.~

When he came to again, he wasn't alone. Peacekeepers scoured the flat plains, sifting through rubble and chatting with one another while hoses blasted the last remaining embers with an onslaught of water.

Troy started to his feet, throwing off the fuzzy, green blanket that covered him, nearly tripping him as he started towards what remained of his home. He hardly got two steps before a Peacekeeper held out a hand, holding him in place.

"Easy, buddy," the faceless man said in a soothing voice. "Just take it easy."

"Where's Idun?" He asked frantically. His hands felt their way up, where they patted against a thick gauze pad that covered his forehead. "Wh-what happened. Wh-why can't I? I can't, I-"

The man crouched down beside the boy, and held out a book to him. The boy looked through him, refusing to look down at what the man extended. Panic flared from within him. His thoughts were a mess, a flurry of pictures and words that he couldn't hone in and focus. Even his memories failed him, only the most distant and hazy of pictures in his mind of what had happened. He remembered hearing his mom scream, going downstairs with Idun, he remembered waking up alone, and he remembered the smell of smoke.

He looked down at the book that the man extended, and then looked up at the black visor that the Peacekeeper wore. No words came from Troy, but his eyes told everything that he wanted to say.

"I'm sorry kid, it took us a while to get here. The whole place burned down, nothing is left." The man looked down at the book. "Except for this. I'd call it a miracle if I believed in 'em, thing was sitting in the middle of the bookroom, surrounded by fire, dozens of torched books lying all around it, but this thing didn't have a scratch on it."

For the first time Troy looked at the book, taking it from the man, gently tracing his thumbs across the cover, as if applying too much pressure would cause the whole thing to turn to ashes. He recognized it. It was a book that his father had loved to read to Idun and him on those rare nights his father was home. They were stories of gods and tricksters, epic battles and dire prophecies. It was Idun's favorite book.

Troy looked up at the man one last time. He felt his heart pounding against his chest, up into his clogged throat. Every breath strained his throat, but he had to ask. He felt an indescribable pain in his chest, as if every pulsing beat of the heart were crashing against his rib cages, cracking them and sending splinters up against the inside of his skin.

"Idun?" Was all he could muster, and he hacked away into his sleeve as he did so, sending tears and snot sliding down his face that he haphazardly wiped away with his shirt.

There was no face to read for a reaction, just a blank, emotionless mask. Yet still, just staring at the man, Troy knew.

The man didn't have the heart to confirm it.

"The people responsible for this, they won't hurt anyone ever again," was all he could muster. "It was the craziest thing, bolt of lightning struck their vehicle just down the road." He looked up in the sky. "Not even a stormy night."

Just enough of Troy's brain was still functioning to click together the pieces in front of him. His hands were a flurry as they shakily paged through the book, flipping until he found the page he was looking for. The page that Idun loved the most, and would always demand that their father must re-read, again and again until she could recite the whole story from heart.

The story of the most brave god of them all, the greatest and most fierce warrior. One who would always protect others, and never let a single villain escape to hurt anyone again. Troy felt his hand brush against the page, and felt a sense of awe as he stared up into the sky, above the rubble and smoke, beyond the dark and starry night, far past all that he could see.

He held up the book so that he could look at it without peeling his eyes away from that vision, all the words too small for him to make out except for the big, bolded letters that headed the page.

Thor Odinson: God of Thunder

Vivian Ostera, 18

1 Year ago

It was the first snow of the season. Vivian had finally been discharged from the hospital, and just in time to witness the white flakes of snow as they blew through the air in a flurry. They had always felt a sort of peace, watching the world get fitted with a colorless coating. Vivian and their dad would go to visit their aunts, and those days were some of the most cherished ones they could remember. Despite the cold temperatures, and raging blizzard outside, there was a comfortable warmth in those memories.

Vivian didn't feel warm now. They sat by the window, pale hands slowly rubbing against each other, while hazel eyes slowly drifted across the landscape. Snow began to stick to the ground, creating a powdered floor on top of the sidewalks. A few families were outside, and they smiled and laughed as they threw snowballs and made snow angels.

Within the glass, Vivian could see the shadowy outline of a reflection. In it they could see their narrowed, tired eyes. Above their left eye, their finger traced against the soft scar that had been etched into their eyebrow.

Their hand suddenly dropped down, lightly brushing up against their cheek as they pressed their forehead against the window. The glass was cool to the touch, and sent shivers throughout their body as their eyes slid shut.

They were done seeing the outside world. The flakes of snow, the happy families, the lack of care for anything else in the world; they saw it all through the foggy glass and couldn't latch on to those feelings anymore.

Over and over again, people had warned them. Their dad, their friends, and their aunts all had the same things to say. All of them could see what they refused to. They had worn their heart on their sleeve, and he had sliced it to ribbons. The scars they wore now would never heal. Whenever they could begin to hope again, they would look into a reflection and see those reminders that evil exists in this world.

Vivian's eyes opened at the sound of footsteps. They hated the primal fear that they felt, that creeping panic they felt whenever they were alone. This place was supposed to be safe for them, but that fear still followed, never leaving them. It had been two months since that night, but that pain hadn't dulled. They still felt that sharp pain that took away their breath, left them completely helpless, unable to fight back. Not able to protect themself.

Their aunt Lisbet wordlessly sat down next to them. She forced a mug of hot chocolate into their hands and sat in silence for a while. Vivian nursed their drink, not finding any joy in the taste but clinging to that heat that warmed their hands.

After their dad, Lisbet had been the first one Vivian had seen in the hospital. The first thing that she had said was 'I told you so.' She hugged them and said how glad she was that Viv was still alive too, but it was those four words that they had needed to hear. All their life they had refused to see the bad in anybody, and finally they saw the consequences of living that way.

"Do you remember last winter's first snow?" Lisbet said, her eyes focused on the blizzard outside.

Vivian managed a smile. "Not much of it."

Lisbet chuckled. "Probably for the best. You acted a fool the whole day. You and liquor don't seem to agree."

Vivian didn't find anything to say in response. That day seemed so long ago. It was as if the last two months were all that her life had become.

"You were so happy that day," Lisbet spoke softly. "I've missed my Viv."

Vivian set down their mug. They felt their hands brushing up and down their arms, tracing over the scars that they tried so hard to hide. "I'm sorry. I'm just, I, I'm—" Their voice faltered. Tears forced their way into Vivian's speech as they pushed their words out. "I don't feel like me anymore."

Lisbet set down her mug, patting Vivian's knee as she looked at them with tired eyes. "You're still you. That's one thing that nobody can take from you."

"I just want to feel normal again. I don't want to feel like this anymore. Every single day, I feel exactly the same. I'm scared." Vivian's voice squeaked, ugly tears beginning to stream down their face as two months of bottled up emotions began to burst. "And I hate it. I'm so tired of feeling helpless."

"I wish that I could tell you everything is going to be okay." Lisbet pursed her lips, looking at Vivian for a long while, stuck in thought. "You're a fighter Viv. Just keep on fighting, okay?"

Vivian wanted to ask what there was to fight for. They wanted to ask how they could keep on blindly boxing, fighting for something they couldn't see. Their whole life, everything they believed, all their quirks and eccentricities, all of it seemed to die that die, even if they were lucky enough to have their heart continue to beat. That feeling of helplessness still stuck with them, and it was all they could focus on. Vivian never wanted to feel that lack of power again.

Things suddenly seemed to click into place. Vivian's expression went blank as they looked their aunt in the eyes, a fire burning from within Vivian for the first time in the past two months. As the snow continued to barrage outside, they felt a resolution building within them. That they would never be helpless again. That the next time someone would try to take their life, they wouldn't have to scream for help. They wouldn't freeze up.

Next time, they'd be more than just ready to fight back.

Lisbet, unaware of the torrent of emotions swelling within Vivian, clasped their hand in hers. "You'll find something out of this, because that's who you are. Everything happens for a reason."

~.~.~.~.~

11 Months later

Everything happens for a reason.

They were proof of that. One year ago, they were a nobody at the academy. They were the person who would never stand a chance at being selected. Too nice, too trusting, not strong enough, not motivated enough, those were the things they were told over and over again.

Now they were here. The end of the Tournament of Champions, where once there were sixty-four, now only the top four trainees remained. Now, they duked it out for the right to be one of two people to get the chance to extend District One's winning streak to four years. For honor, glory, wealth, fame, or whatever other reason one could convince themselves of, all of it was within reaching distance.

All they had to do was win one fight, and they would win the right to volunteer. Vivian wasn't even sure anymore why they wanted that. Maybe at one point there was some sort of initial reasoning, a core argument they made to themself on how volunteering was the only way out of the hole they had become trapped in. As it stood, training was all that Vivian knew how to do anymore. It was the only thing keeping them functioning, pushing forward through all their pain and insecurities.

Training kept them going. Without it there was nothing, just that empty pit they had fallen into after the attack. If they stopped now, so close to reaching that final goal, what would the point of it all have been? The Games didn't excite Vivian. They didn't care about honor and glory, riches and stardom. It was just the next step, another way to keep them motivated. One more distraction, something to devote themself so wholly to that the rest of the world, all of the bad, just faded away.

Now, that goal wasn't only in their hands anymore. They had reached the final four of the tournament, which meant that they were now being separated into pairs. The head trainers put them into combinations that they felt made them the strongest possible united duo, putting together trainees who would hide each other's weaknesses, show off their strengths, and most importantly avoid killing each other in the arena.

Vivian knew how other people viewed them. They knew the type of person that the trainers thought they were. The quiet, focused archer who seemed to fade into the background. The one that nobody expected to even make it past the first round of the tournament. They didn't even bother hiding their surprise when they saw Vivian reach the final four.

So when Troy Magnison's name was called off with theirs, they already had a good idea of what they'd be dealing with. The man cheered out as his name was called, and that cheer was echoed by a large section of the crowd, all the other kids from the boarding academy celebrating their last remaining champion.

Vivian didn't know what to make of the man. It was almost hard to believe he was only eighteen, but the way he acted as he childishly celebrated with his friends, loudly hollering and pumping his fists, made it more clear. They had seen him fighting earlier, and Vivian couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated, as much as they despised that feeling.

Vivian was already prepared for the typical brutish, Career mentality, which they knew they would be paired with since the beginning of the tournament. Some amoral, cocky douchebag to bring more ferocity, because everyone thought that Vivian was just some pushover. Whatever, they thought, let them think what they think. Vivian would show them..

Troy finally made his way over to their corner of the small battling arena, and they were given two minutes to prepare their weapons- all of which had dulled edges, but still hurt like hell to get hit by- and strategize. Vivian gripped onto their bow, counting out their arrows and slinging the quiver over their shoulder.

"Greetings!" Troy said, or more so shouted, really, his hands still empty. He stood with his hands on his hips, watching over the crowd, a bloated smile across his lips.

Vivian stared through the man, discreetly pocketing a dagger. "Hey."

"A pleasure to meet you, Vivian Ostera!" His enthusiastic, booming voice not dropping a single decibel. He extended his beefy hand towards them.

Vivian ignored the handshake. They continued to stare through him, and for a moment semi-seriously second guessed going into the Games.

Troy dropped his hand, looking humbled as he dropped his volume, though his enthusiasm remained fully in tact. "My apologies, we are not properly acquainted yet. I look forward to getting that chance in the future."

Vivian slowly nodded their head, now just feeling even more unsure. He was loud, and arrogant, sure, but there was something else there that they hadn't expected. Sincerity. Vivian wasn't sure if they were willing to trust that anyone could truly be sincere anymore, but something about the man just radiated off this electric energy. They decided it was best to just not think about it. After all, there isn't much point in getting to know a partner who has to die if you want to win.

"Are you going to get a weapon, then?" They asked.

Troy took in a deep breath, stretching back his arms. "No."

Vivian couldn't think of anything to say to that. They were dumbfounded, and the look on their face must have done enough to portray that because Troy quickly began to explain himself.

"This is not a true fight. These are not warriors, they are children. I owe it to them to make it a fair fight!" He shouted, lifting his arms in the air. The boarding academy kids broke into rowdy applause, Troy flexing his muscles while the rest of the audience looked just as horrifyingly confused as Vivian felt.

There was no time to continue doubting it, though. After a whole year of total dedication, unmatched motivation, it all came down to this. This was Vivian's chance to prove themself, to give them a chance to get better. A chance to heal.

A boy and a girl stood ready in the center of the arena as they made their way to the middle, keeping a comfortable distance behind Troy as he assuredly stalked forward. Their fingers tugged on the string of their bow, while their other hand traced the outline of the dagger they held in their pocket.

The boy was about Vivian's height, and held a sword, while the girl was a bit taller and lugged a battle-axe. Vivian recognized both of them from training. Vivian knew they were better than both of them, and they knew that nobody in this entire place believed that. Troy could do whatever he wanted, if he got himself taken out in the first second, so be it. Vivian had worked too hard for this to lose now, they would take both of them down if they needed to.

The bell rang, and the other duo leapt into action. The boy dashed towards Vivian, zig-zagging to avoid the arrow shot he knew would be coming. Vivian held the arrow in the string, slowly backpedaling as they waited for the perfect moment to strike.

Meanwhile, the girl stepped towards Troy, who casually accepted the challenge, looking unworried as he moved towards her. She brought the axe above her head and swung down, the air seeming to tear apart from the sheer force of her strength.

Troy caught the axe in mid air, gripping onto it by the edge of the handle just below the blade. He ripped it from her hands, and tossed it to the side, the metal clanging against the floor. The sound was just enough of a distraction to divert the boy's attention, and Vivian took the advantage.

The arrow released from their bow, the flattened, soft edge harmlessly bouncing off of his chest. Kill shot. But the boy didn't stop moving.

He continued to barrel towards them, and for a moment Vivian froze. They waited for someone to jump in, to keep him from getting any closer. They won. They beat him. But nobody came.

They were still frozen as he collided with them, knocking Vivian to the ground. He gripped his sword, and attempted to bring it down. Vivian had just enough sense, barely enough training to bring up their hands, gripping onto his wrist as they attempted to keep him from bringing it down onto their chest.

Flashes went off in their head. They felt that sharp pain again, metal piercing their skin, sinking into their stomach, slashing their arms, cutting their face and just barely missing their eye. That helpless feeling was there too, and Vivian could feel it sinking in as the sword inched closer and closer to them.

The dulled point of the blade was just inches from their chest, and that helpless feeling boiled over, reaching its tipping point. Because Vivian wasn't helpless. They fought him off that night, and they survived. They were a fighter, through and through, and nobody would ever take that from them again.

Vivian lashed out with a kick, and the boy let out a sharp breath of air, his face going pale as he reached towards his crotch. Vivian reached into their pocket, using their legs to roll him off of them and switching positions. The boy barely had enough time to notice what was happening by the time they whacked him in the head with the dull knife. They should have just held it at his throat, given him a chance to surrender, but Vivian's blood was boiling, adrenaline pumping through them, and their actions came without thought.

The boy kicked his way away from them, letting out a torrent of curse words as the judge called him out, a large bruise and a small trickle of blood coming from his forehead. They sat on their knees on the ground, heavy breaths as they soaked in the moment. They had won. There was no need to call for help, nobody had to bail them out. They did this. Them and nobody else.

They looked up to see Troy standing above them. He didn't wear that cocky smile though, and didn't look to jump into celebration. He looked worried as he stared down at Vivian, and he knelt down, offering up his hand again.

Vivian looked at his hand, and then up to his face, his pale blue eyes wide with a childlike hope and excitement, even as he did his best to maintain his composure. They couldn't figure out why he wasn't leaping up and down, celebrating with the rest of his friends who cheered loudly for him. They couldn't figure out why he stood above them, offering a hand up. After all that happened before, they couldn't trust him. They couldn't trust his easy smile, his hopeful eyes, or anything else about him. They wouldn't be deceived, not again.

And so Vivian surprised even themself when they took his hand in their own, lifting up to their feet and standing by his side, as his smile grew into a full on grin. They felt a hint of a smile tugging at their own lips, overlooking the crowd now.

They still didn't feel whole. It wasn't some instantaneous burst of confidence, where all that had happened before was forgotten. The world wasn't suddenly illuminated, all the darkness and sorrow wisped away like hot breath on a cool winter day. They weren't magically cured of every illness. But it was a start. The beginning of a promise they had made to themself, the start of a journey that they didn't even know the end to.

The head trainer took the microphone, his voice barely cutting above the deafening cheering that echoed through the arena. "I am proud to announce the best that our district has to offer, the chosen volunteers and representatives of District One!" Vivian looked down, and saw that their hand was still interlocked with Troy's. They looked up at Troy, his attention now fully on his friends as he let out a triumphant roar. Vivian peeled their hand away from his, taking a step away from him, but still unable to hide the smile that spread across their lips.

"Troy Magnison and Vivian Ostera!"

A/N: Hope that you enjoyed our first intro! Thank you to Lauren for submitting Vivian (like, 3 years ago lol), I hope I did them justice! For clarifications sake, Vivian is gender fluid, having neutral and feminine days, and uses they/them or she/her pronouns.

I purposefully left a lot of things unanswered and unrevealed about these two, showing lots of Troy's past but not much of his present, and vice versa for Vivian, but we'll be spending plenty of time with these two in the future to answer those questions.

So the way sponsoring works is you get 1 point for every review of any of my SYOTs, as well as getting more points for answering trivia questions. Bonus points for special reviews (liveblogging, blog reviews, etc) as well. This is the first SYOT where even after receiving all of my characters I'm mostly kind of clueless about what's going to happen in the arena, so I plan on sponsoring being a much bigger deal in this story. I will say that I also have some plans to make sponsoring more "realistic" in this story, so there won't be a flat cost for every single item you want to purchase for a tribute. But more on that when the Games get closer.

Trivia(1 point): Aside from the district your tribute is in, what district are you most looking forward to seeing?

See you all next chapter with the District Three intros!