They sat in rows by district on hard metal benches that seemed to convey the discomfort every single tribute was feeling at that moment, whether outwardly visible or not. Some sat, pale and still, others twitched in their seats, resisting the urge to stand up and pace back and forth. Merlin studied the various reactions as he struggled to ignore his own clenching stomach. Even Arthur looked slightly less at ease than normal, his fists clenched and his lips set into a thin, determined line.

He was the first to be called, and he stood immediately, striding into the testing area like he owned the place. What seemed like an eternity passed, and then Morgana was called, walking in calmly. Hours passed, as Merlin watched all the other tributes before him leave the room, never to return. Some looked resigned, others looked ready to pass out. Elyan flashed a weak smile before turning to push through the doors. Merlin noticed that some tributes took much longer than others, and he decided that the shorter windows must have been occupied by those who were confident in their abilities and showed off their fighting skills. The others must have done things revolving around survival skills that would have taken longer.

As the girl from Elyan's district followed soon after him, Merlin realized with cold certainty that he was next. What was he going to do for the gamemakers? Cook? Maybe tie some knots? He snorted in silent laughter, and Gwen looked at him in concern.

His name echoed through the slowly emptying room, and Merlin squeezed Gwen's hand in reassurance before walking quickly to the double doors and pushing them open. The Training Center was unnaturally quiet as he walked in, the gamemakers sitting in a raised box at the far end of the room. He noticed to his annoyance that the vast majority of them were drunk, and several of the men had begun to sing a raucous drinking song, swaying dangerously.

He hurried over to the edible plants station, acing the test within several minutes, then quickly rigged a net and several traps, ensnaring the dummies meant for sword fighting. He looked up at the gamemakers, and saw to his annoyance that only two of them were nodding and taking notes. The rest of them had their attention captured by a large roast pig entering the room on a silver platter, a ruby-red apple glistening in its open mouth.

Anger rose up in Merlin's throat and he felt his magic growing with it. He was here to show them why he deserved a chance to survive in their sadistic Games, and here they were paying more attention to a dead pig than his efforts. He strode over to the archery station and grabbed up a longbow, selecting a single arrow. His eyes gleamed golden, he drew back the string, and released. A thud echoed through the hall along with the gasps of several gamemakers as the arrow punctured the apple and the force of the shot carried until it slammed into the wall behind them.

Merlin gave a mocking bow. "Thank you for your undivided attention," he managed sarcastically before dropping the bow on the floor and striding from the hall.

Once in the elevator, he sank to the floor and put his head in his hands. "What have I done?" he moaned. Now, not only would Arthur be after his blood, but the gamemakers as well. And their revenge was unavoidable; he couldn't hide from them in their own arena.

He stopped at their floor and headed straight to his rooms, not wanting to have to explain to Gaius what he had just done. He slammed the door and aimed a well-placed kick at the bed, which ended in him hopping up and down, clutching his foot in agony. He threw himself on the offending piece of furniture and propped open the magic book, trying to drown his misery in its text.

Thankfully, no one disturbed him until hours later, when a cautious knock on Merlin's door revealed Gwen. "It's time to see the scores from training," she explained, looking him up and down. "Oh, cheer up, Merlin. It couldn't have been that bad," she pleaded.

"Oh, but it was," Merlin answered bitterly. They walked out to the living room, and he sat on the couch next to Gwen, avoiding Gaius and Celeste's questioning gazes.

"So, tell us what you did in your private sessions with the gamemakers," asked Gaius gently.

Gwen glanced at Merlin and then obliged. "Well when I walked in, the gamemakers all looked kind of… startled. So I picked up a sword and hacked at some dummies and then threw some knives until they told me I could go."

Gaius looked at Merlin wearily. "Now what did you do, Merlin?"

Merlin looked Gaius in the eyes. "I shot an arrow at the gamemakers," he stated calmly. The room was silent, all its occupants staring in various states of astonishment.

"Do you have a death wish?" hissed Gaius. "First you pick a fight with the deadliest tribute in the Games, then you purposefully anger the gamemakers!?"

"Did you hit them?" Gwen asked anxiously.

"No, unfortunately not," Merlin replied dryly. "I came in and they were all drunk and paying me absolutely no attention. Then someone brought in a roast pig and they all turned away from me to go serve themselves, and I got angry and shot an arrow at the apple in the pig's mouth. It embedded itself in the back wall, and I guess that scared them all a bit."

Surprisingly, it was Celeste who spoke up for him. "Well I think that all the tributes deserve equal attention from the gamemakers," she stated.

Everyone gazed at her in surprise.

"What?" she snapped. "It's just what I think."

The television snapped lit up with the beginning of the program as Caesar Flickerman, the same man who had been hosting the Games for as long as Merlin could remember, bounced his way onstage. Every year, he had a different color scheme, and this year he had chosen gold, dying his hair and wearing a matching suit and tie. The effect was rather blinding, but Merlin thought wryly, rather appropriate.

After a short introduction, Caesar quickly turned to a screen behind him in order to commentate on the scores received by each tribute; a number between one and twelve. Twelve meant that you were seen as virtually invincible by the gamemakers, and one meant that you weren't expected to last five seconds in the Games and were hopelessly incompetent. Arthur's picture flashed onscreen first, and Merlin wondered absently where they got the pictures from. He could only guess how horrible his was going to look. Next to Arthur's name appeared the number eleven, and the room let out a collective gasp. Merlin knew Arthur was good, but not THAT good. What had he done to impress the gamemakers that much?

"And starting off with a bang, we have a rare eleven here for Mr. Pendragon. The gamemakers certainly must have liked what they saw there, huh? Now on to Ms. Du Bois…"

Arthur's image faded, and Morgana's replaced it. She received an eight, and was replaced by the pair from District two. The boy, who had long hair and a mischievous glint to his eyes was named Gwaine, and received a nine. His district partner only received a seven, which was a bit lower than normal for a Career Tribute. In fact, thinking back to training, Merlin couldn't recall ever seeing her hanging out with the big group of Careers. Maybe she had made her own alliance.

The pair from three got twin fives, and the pair from Four got a nine and an eight. After leaving the Career districts, Merlin was expecting the scores to drop dramatically, and was shocked when the male tribute, a seventeen-year old named Leon, received a ten. His partner received a six. The District six tributes received a seven and a five, Lancelot from Seven was scored with a nine, and poor Helen got a measly three. The tributes from eight broke the trend of unusually high scores with a six and a four, and Nine's tributes received a seven and a five. Elyan scored an eight, and Gwen squealed in delight, clapping her hands.

Dread filled Merlin, making him shiver involuntarily. What would the gamemakers give him as a score in revenge for his actions? Maybe he would be the first tribute in history to ever receive a one as their score. Elyan's district partner was given a three, and Merlin resisted the urge to run from the room. His picture appeared on the screen and he had just enough time to realize that he actually didn't look that terrible when the impossible happened. An eleven flashed next to his headshot, and the room was dead-silent, Caesar's voice the only noise to be heard.

"… Well that's something for the record books!" he exclaimed in astonishment. "Two elevens in one year!? And one of them from an outlying district too! I can't believe this!"

Merlin didn't hear anything else. Of course the gamemakers would make him seem like a threat and paint a target on his back. That way he would be sought out and killed immediately by the careers, who would want to eliminate him as a threat. Gwen came up onscreen with a six, but no one said a word. He felt numb. How could he make this any worse? He couldn't ally with Gwen and Elyan now without putting them in danger too. District twelve received a six and a four, and the screen went black.

No one said a word. Merlin turned to Gwen and Gaius. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Gwen, I understand if you don't want to be allies anymore. Now the careers will want to kill me even more, and I don't want to put you or Elyan in unnecessary danger."

Gwen smiled. "Don't be thick, Merlin. We made a deal, and we'll stick with it, through thick and thin."

Merlin smiled back in relief. At least he wouldn't have to face the gamemakers' wrath alone. Gaius spoke up.

"At least you taught the gamemakers a valuable lesson; don't get drunk during the Hunger Games or they risk getting shot in the head by an angry tribute with a bow and arrow."