prologue two
"Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once."
- William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar
ii.
It's remarkably easy to swoon a Capitolite.
All Sevilin has to do is bat his eyelashes, offer an obedient smile, and pretend to give a damn about whatever his companion is spewing from their useless mouth.
Not too different from Four.
Bidding farewell to yet another adoring fan, Sev takes in the landscape before him.
The garden party lolls lazily over acres of perfectly trimmed hedges and sprawling festivities, every corner of the estate grounds lit up with bright, golden lanterns. Courtiers posture together, their colorful faces bright and teeth flashing behind stained lips. Waiters ripple around them, in stiff tailcoats and navy masks, with platters of drinks and aromatic finger foods.
In the distance, the tall buildings of the Capitol breathe light into the cool night, a warm hum of color and sound that vanishes into the dark velvet of the sky. Sevilin loves it, loves the way the party is like decaying gold, decadent and lavish. It reminds him of sweet dessert wine and honeyed poison.
A figure approaches from the right, shadow rigid and teeming with anger.
He smiles widely at Rhea, who stands before him. Her mouth is pulled into a taut line, obviously vexed as she tries not to sneer at him. Sevilin understands why - he is responsible for her tributes' deaths. Rhea will never forgive him for his triumph over her protégés, no matter how much of an angsty mess they were.
"Ms. Stavridis, I do have other guests to get to, so please figure out whatever you're asking me."
She's too polite and sharp to ignore Capitol etiquette, but she lifts her chin in a subtle fuck you. She can't do anything to him now. "How do you feel about your victory over the tributes from District Two this year?"
"My victory?" Sev touches his lips in wonder, taking his time pretending to think about it. "It was unexpected, certainly. District Two trains some of the best tributes, and all of Panem will mourn the deaths of Isabelle and Markus."
"Maxim — it was Maxim," Rhea snaps, but Sev is already departing with an apathetic wave and a devious smile.
There are so many other guests at the party, ranging from well-dressed Cabinet Ministers to lingering mentors that have yet to be sent back to their districts. Sev's own supporters are at the party, extravagant Capitolites dressed in flowing blues and golds to honor him. They shake his hands and caress his arms, his shoulders, his face, as if trying to absorb what victory and power feel like. Sev leans into their touches and kisses warm skin as he is showered with their praise and adoration.
Someone sweeps him up for a dance, a waltz that has Sev's head spinning and the stars laughing. It's all a blur until he finds himself at the edge of the dance floor, saying his goodbyes. There is more food then, more to drink, more to enjoy, a never-ending stream of wealth that just makes the doom and starvation of the arena all the more pronounced.
"Ah, yes, Mr. Saintil," Sev bats his eyelashes dramatically, watching the old mentor down a flute of some artificially colored drink.
Over the broad shoulder of the One victor is a projected screen replaying the events of the arena. Sev sees himself killing Aster, tearing his throat open and leaving the psycho pair from Ten to finish the job. Using poor fragile Grey as a meat shield. He sees the stormy skies above the sea, the rocking ships and Maxim's horrified face when he realizes they would be his watery grave. Betraying Varsen in the ruined streets, leaving his boytoy to the mercy of Cel and Isabelle. The sunken city collapsing, Isabelle's swinging body and Leiothrix's face, red fingerprints on his eyelids, scarlet in the flowing water.
Ilori says something and Sev turns back to him, a fixed smile on his face. "What was that sir?" he inquires sweetly. The brooding man mutters something and asks the question again.
"How'd you do it? How did you survive?" Ilori gruffs.
He points at Sev's right shoulder, which is still stiff, and the scar on his face. Sev tilts his head in wonder, peering into the man's dark eyes before answering.
"I imagine by killing everyone and everything that wasn't me," he says, just slow enough to be impertinent. When Ilori scowls at him, Sev continues just to appease him. "I'm a driven person. I survive even through the worst of situations."
"Like vermin," comes an unamused voice from behind, accented honey-sweet like the tea sold in the Bluport markets. Sev whips around to look at their new guest.
Dorado is stiff, in a dark suit with a high collar that cuts into the flesh of his throat. He is dressed in all black, as if mourning a death. The older man comes to stand by his right, resting a heavy hand on Sev's injured shoulder. Even after a few months, the wound aches. Sev tries to mask his grimace, but makes no attempt to hide the acidic hatred in his eyes. "I trust that my tribute isn't giving you any trouble, Mr. Saintil?"
"Trouble? That's one way to say it," Ilori grumbles in his deep, gravelly voice. Sev will never understand how this man hails from One of all places. "I was just on my way to talk with the others anyway."
"Tell them I'll be over soon."
Dorado pulls Sev by his arm, guiding him away from the meticulously set table. Sev lets himself be pulled along until they reach a secluded part of the garden, surrounded by dark hedges and lit up by projected screens that replay the events of the arena on a never-ending loop.
Dorado takes his time making sure no one is eavesdropping before coming back to Sev, exhaustion plaguing his wiry frame. Sev is met with prominent cheekbones and furrowed eyebrows when he tilts his head to acknowledge Dorado's existence.
"You do realize that your role as a victor is to play nice," Dorado doesn't phrase it as a question.
Sev scowls. "What does it matter? He's an old man, he'll be dead before I have to worry about mentoring anyway. Who cares what he says or thinks?"
"The arena has made you insolent."
"You know I'm right! He's dead, he's the past. He'll be forgotten eventually and no matter what he does or thinks, it won't matter," Sev fixes the older victor with a bright-eyed glare, swinging his arms grandly, half performative and half emotional. "You know that. He's old news and he will die one day. Me, I'm the current news, I'm the big star. I won this — I earned this."
Over Dorado's shoulder, the Lovecraftian city is collapsing.
Steel, brick, concrete, and glass rains down to the seething waters below, the churning tides frothy and gray with debris. The rain falls in thick sheets, catching onto Sev's lashes and blinding him every few seconds. The wind whistles, loud and eerie, and across the rooftop is Cel. Lightning flashes behind her, silhouetting her for a brief second before everything becomes dark again. Sev feels his heart skip a beat, everything happening a little too fast and a little too suddenly.
His district partner's boots are wet with water, and higher up, blood. There is a splatter of vermilion on her pants and her hands are trembling around her spear. She says something, no - shouts something, but her voice is carried away by the wind. Sev feels out of touch with the scene. He tilts his head, watching as Cel passes the spear from hand to hand, impatient and aggressive like a wild dog.
A giggle bubbles up from Sev's chest. He laughs loudly, the knife warm in his own hands. Cel scowls at him, screams something in her ugly voice, and lunges with the spear. Sev dodges to the side but it gets his shoulder, slicing a clean cut straight across his collarbone. He seizes the spear's handle and drags his sworn enemy closer, and the knife sinks into her side. The serrated teeth bites into flesh and Cel is screaming, kicking him away. The sound is tiny, out of tune, wrong and too high and then too deep and —
"Sevilin. Sev. Eyes on me," fingers snap in front of his face, and Sev jerks his gaze away from the screen to look at Dorado. Tall, good, handsome Dorado; the man that grows too attached to the trainees in his charge. The man that carried poor pathetic Cel backstage after her mess of an interview.
"What? Did you say something important? Oh, that's right, you never do," Sev sneers, pulling himself up and lifting his chin. He doesn't like the worry in Dorado's eyes, the knowing gleam of similar trauma. He lifts a hand and pushes the other victor away from him. "Now, if you're going to hang around me, make yourself useful and fetch me a drink."
Dorado does get him his drink, something that is warm and burns going down his throat. Sev disguises his choking behind a hiccupping laugh, turning his head away from the Capitolite he was listening to so that they didn't see his glower. The other victor is a steady weight on his right side. Sev tells himself to not mind it, and comes to enjoy his new follower when he receives more food and drinks and gifts of adoration.
He earned this! Why shouldn't he enjoy it?
The party wears on, both invigorating and tiring. Sev smiles sweetly and answers questions he could answer in his sleep. How did he and Cel find each other? He could say they were most likely herded closer to each other by the floodwaters, but that isn't what Capitolites want to hear. So, he tells a tale of how the sun and the moon will always find each other. What will he do after he returns home? He is thinking of redecorating his room, finding a proper place to hang his crown.
Sev sings the tune the Capitol wants to hear. Sev exchanges polite words with a few more partygoers, shaking hands and tilting his head innocently before he turns to Dorado and holds his chin up high.
"I'm bored. When will this be done?"
"When the Capitol says it's done," Dorado looks away from the screen he was watching, turning his warm eyes on Sev. Sev knows what he looks like, flushed and warm from all the drinking and dancing, and he puffs up proudly to stand up to the other man's gaze. He feels like a bug under a microscope, something to be studied and pulled apart. Sev rises to the challenge, pulling his lips back into a grimacing smile. Dorado doesn't smile back and turns to look at the screen once again.
There is a breathless moment of Cel holding Sev over the edge of the building, the wind carrying away his cry of distress as he stares up at the sky. The clouds roil overhead, the rain thick and heavy. Lightning flashes again, lighting up shards of glass and echoing across the caverns of the dilapidated structure. Cel has a hand around his neck and another one on her spear, lifting it up above his head to impale him. The angle is awkward, wrong, inefficient, but Cel has him pinned.
The spear comes whistling down, stabbing into the meat of Sev's hand as he barely catches it. He struggles to keep it from impaling his eye, the blade too close, before he sweeps Cel's feet out from under her. She falls hard, dragging the spear across Sev's fingers and he screams at the burst of pain in his hand. He falls to the floor too, propped up against the wall and making the water around him red with his blood. Cel is staggering back up, shaking water out of her now-unfocused eyes, and feeling around for her spear. Sev kicks it away before she can get to it, both of them struggling back to their feet.
"I hate you," Cel is saying, tears running down her cheeks, teeth gritted. Her chest heaves and she shakes with sadness, or anger, or maybe both. She bawls her hands into fists and screams. "I should have drowned you in the bloodbath! You're a monster! A volatile bitch that should be exterminated!"
She lunges at him, and he falls because it is easier to do that. They grapple in the water together, Sev raking his nails across her face and Cel digging her nails into the flesh just beneath his throat. He knees her in the gut and forces her off, seizing her by the hair to smash her face into the ground. She fights back twice as hard, backhanding him across the face hard enough to leave vivid scratches, and then kicking him hard in the ribs, twice. Something cracks, and Sev screams soundlessly into the abyss.
"You were lucky to survive, you know," Dorado says evenly. Sev glances at him, teeth bared in disagreement, but the older Four victor isn't watching him. He is watching Cel on the screen, in the recording of what happened. "She was stronger than you, so much stronger. For you to have survived and not her…"
"She was strong and driven, but single minded. She just wanted me dead, and didn't pay attention. Plus, the bitch was completely blind at that point," Sev sniffs coldly, rolling his eyes. He watches as Cel pushes his face into the rushing water surrounding them. It feels far away and immediate at the same time, distant with its soundlessness but also terrifyingly there, the sensation of water rushing into lungs horrifying and ever-present.
"People change in the arena. You were both exhausted and would've done anything to survive, she probably expected you to finish her off like you finished off everyone else."
Sev cackles coldly.
"People change in the arena? As if. What, did your golden pupil fall from grace? Did your little detached ableist robot change too much for you to handle?"
Dorado doesn't answer the question. He just looks at the screen, at how Sev throws Cel off of him with a kick and turns on her with a shower of water. They are both bleeding by now, Cel from a jagged cut on her forearm and Sev from his chest and torso. He says something again, jeering and sharp based on his expression, and suddenly the lightning is back, blinding the camera for a brief instant.
"What did you say to her?" Dorado asks. He touches Sev's elbow, puts a heavy hand on his shoulder to keep him from getting away. Sev sharply turns away from him at first, ill-tempered and unwilling to cooperate, but Dorado waits him out. Sev can't look away once he risks a glance back, trapped by the other man's intelligent gaze.
"I told her that her face is atrocious and she should really consider buzzing her hair off," Dorado shakes him, enough to make Sev's teeth rattle, but he grins throughout it all. "I told her that her eyes look like watery orbs of agony."
"You didn't actually say that. Tell me the truth."
For a second, Sev thinks the older man is going to hit him. His father would do it. Sev stiffens and glares up at Dorado angrily, daring him to do it, body already ready to take the heavy blow. It's not like he hasn't been hit before.
Abused. Neglected. Treated like trash.
But the moment passes, and Dorado lets Sev go again. Dorado takes a step back while Sev smooths his jacket out, adjusting his sleeves so that he looks beautiful and intoxicating again. The party goes back to minding its own business, leaving the Four victors glaring at each other.
Dorado wanders off eventually, claiming that he needs to talk with some other mentors. Which is fine with Sev. He smiles and bows to those with more authority than him, plays by the rules and keeps his mouth shut. He lets Capitolites hand feed him delicious treats, already knowing what is in store for him and accepting the food as Persephone accepts the pomegranate.
Flushed with success and a frenzied sense of pride, it is a wonder that it takes the entire night for Sev to lose his mind. Or, perhaps, to finally come back to his senses. It comes as a creeping sensation at first, an irritability that crawls deep beneath his skin. He pushes it down, drowning it in food and drink and attention, smiling his fish hook smile and luring people close with his words and tongue. But somewhere between the moon slipping past its pinnacle and the early morning sun, it becomes worse.
The screaming doesn't help.
A guest with vomit green hair stumbles into the center of the party, her tulle dress covered in carmine. The crowd gasps, more screams begin. The woman stands amongst the sea of color, looking pale-faced and in the beginning stages of shock.
"I — He's — I don't know what happened! Help! He's dead!" she desperately pleads, face streaming with tears and mucus running from her nose.
A voice calls out from one of the attendants, stationed near the back of the crowd, close to Sev's left. "Who?"
The woman takes a pause, obviously trying to gather her thoughts. Her chest heaves beneath the bright fabric of her garment. "Head Gamemaker Kissinger."
Shouts ring across the garden, frenzy and panic spread within seconds. Amidst the chaos, the messenger faints in the middle of the dance floor. People start running into the hedges, trample up the cobblestone pathways, leap over the stone walls. Sevilin stands rooted to his spot, watching the madness unfold.
The party dwindles quickly after that, PKs arrive in dozens trying to calm down the remaining denizens. The remaining guests go home or talk with official looking individuals dressed in black suits. The drinks slow, the touches and talk diminish, until Sev suddenly finds himself with nothing and nowhere and no one, drifting in the middle of the dance floor with a quiet mouth and not a single soul there besides him.
Ignored at his own party? Why would anyone actually care about him? They all just want something from him. He's worthless. Useless. Disgusting. Garbage. A fucking mess!
No.
He won for fuck's sake. He matters! He showed them all! He's not crazy!
Fuck his parents and Jaslyn and Taurin and Cynric and Calsin.
Fuck Cel.
Fuck Dorado.
FUCK EVERYONE.
Suddenly, he screams. He takes the flute he is holding and throws it on the ground. Glass shatters, people look at him, but he is already charging away from the scene he caused. Sev slips between partygoers, cuts through a thorny rose hedge, and runs until he hits a small pond. It is quiet out here, but still brightly lit by golden lanterns. Sev throws himself down on the wet grass and covers his face with his hands, biting his lip until it bleeds and grabbing at his hair until he pulls out strands.
That is where Dorado finds him. By then, the lantern's golden glow has dimmed to a low hum, the koi fish in the pond drifting aimlessly. Dorado makes enough noise that Sev knows he is coming, and when he settles down on the grass next to him, Sev turns away. He grits his teeth to keep himself from making any noise.
"Come to scold me? Tell me I've been a horrible child?" Sev forces out after a while. Dorado doesn't say anything, letting the silence take up space before answering.
"No, you don't need to be told that," he touches one of Sev's shoulders, the weight of his calloused hand burns like an iron. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Sev sneers and laughs. He laughs at his own stupidity, how easily he believed that everything would turn out fine in the end, that he would get a happy ending in some way. "I'm fine. I talked, I had fun, everyone loved me. Everyone was there — I was special! I won, I'm the important one now. Everyone loves me, and I —"
He trails off, wordless and sick with something he doesn't know, and trying to gesture out his feelings now that his tongue fails him.
"Is that why you won?" Dorado asks, and Sev shakes his head and grits his teeth to keep from screaming.
No! Yes! He would never be so simpleminded to try and win for approval. Yes, he thought that maybe, just maybe if he won, people would like him. He would be important to someone. His parents would care. He would be more than the Verrillo fuck-up. More than a bitch and slut and a drug dealer. Someone would cherish him and not remember him as the betrayer or murderer or liar or that he actually is!
He doesn't know what to say. He just gives Dorado a hollow, bitter laugh. It starts deep inside of him, pulling on his gut and making his still healing wounds ache, until he is giggling helplessly into his hands. He tries to smother the sound, tries to cover up that he is once again falling apart at the seams, but he can't stifle the noise. Sev is shaking uncontrollably at this point, overwhelmed and tired and manic. Dorado pulls him close and Sev hides his face in his chest, grounding himself with the man's size and weight.
He is such a damn fool. A fool! Sev wants to scream into Dorado's jacket. He killed so many for a pathetic chance at adoration. Cut down those that had something to live for. Katya had two adoring boyfriends if he remembers correctly. Cel had a fiancé.
Fool, the fool! To leave behind someone who loved her endlessly! What a fool!
Merrick had a chance to reconnect with his siblings.
Hana had hope.
What does Sev have? Nothing — just empty hands and an empty liar's heart that could never truly love, that could never win. Who would love a filthy little mess like him?
Sev sobs bitterly against Dorado, letting the other man comfort him. He lets Sev cry his stormy tears, silent throughout it all.
"I told Cel that Daria didn't love her," he says suddenly, in a rush. He sits up and glares at Dorado, daring him to hit him, to push him away, to punish him for his crimes. "I told Cel that her precious fiancé hated her. That she didn't love her. How could someone like Daria love someone as damaged as Cel?"
Dorado's face is flat, unimpressed. "Did you really tell her that?"
Up in the sky, there is the moon. With Cel, it had been smothered by dark clouds and rain.
They grapple with each other on the edge of the skyscraper, spear and knife lost to the rushing water. Sev anchors himself with his rope, tied to a heavy piece of concrete so that he doesn't slide off the edge of the building either. Cel doesn't have that - she doesn't have anything, just her anger and her pride, and her love for her fiancé.
It's too easy to distract her, to grab her around the middle and tip back, teetering on the edge. It's over ten stories tall, the water beneath churned with glass and metal, a sure death for anyone who falls in.
What did Sev say to distract her? He searches his memory for it, tries to remember it between the rain and the falling glass, the way the building suddenly lurches as the water destroys its support pillars and the entire thing comes tumbling down like the rest of the sunken city. Cel had been pressed against him then, the two of them falling towards the angry waves, the rope whistling between them, still attached to some anchor high above them.
He remembers now. He remembers grabbing the rope, and how Cel had grabbed his legs to stop her fall.
They come to a sudden halt halfway down the building, the water still so far away, and the collapsed building above them teetering and threatening to continue falling. Sev and Cel share a look then. Every hateful word, volatile emotion, horrible action washes away and only leaves vulnerability. Above the crashing abyss, two damaged people lock eyes and forgive each other for the past week. In that moment of eternity, Sev finally understands just how similar they are. Twin tempests that tore through the arena in the hope of finding acceptance, only to create a perfect storm of misery and death.
"I'll take care of Daria for you," Sev says, and then seizes the necklace around Cel's neck and kicks her off. The chain strains for a second, before it snaps and Cel goes tumbling down to the water below. Sev is left with a wedding ring in his hand and an emptiness in his soul.
He takes it out now, by the pond next to Dorado. He reaches into his shirt, pulling the chain over his head and pressing it into the warm hands of Cel's dedicated mentor. He trusts Dorado to get the ring back to its rightful owner. Sev looks down at his feet, feeling hollow and empty.
"It doesn't matter what I said, she's dead," Sev stands up and brushes himself off. He looks down at Dorado's disconsolate expression, then stares at his own reflection in the pond. What does he see in there? A pale face, tired eyes, and crimson-stained hands.
"Excuse me? Mr. Verrillo?"
Sev turns to the sound of the masculine voice, dreading another artificial and draining conversation with some idiot partygoer. "What?" he snaps, too exhausted to hide his annoyance.
In front of him stands an impeccably dressed man, swathed in a three-piece suit the color of charcoal. At the start of the party, Sev would've licked his lips and batted his eyelashes. Now, all he can do is try not to tell him to fuck off.
"Apologies for the interruption, but I'll make this quick seeing as you've had a particularly tiresome night."
"Good, I have places to be and people to see."
"Ah, yes, The exciting life of Panem's newest victor. I hope it's everything you imagined Mr. Verrillo," the man pauses, his intense stare tracking Sev's every move. For once, he feels like prey. "Do you remember seeing anyone with Mr. Kissinger during the party? Or notice anything out of sorts?"
"I remember the pig undressing me with his eyes. Other than that, no. I had more pressing matters to attend to, seeing as this was the final celebration for my Victory Tour," Sev bites bitterly.
"Noted," the man pauses, clearly aware that Sev won't give him any answers. "But on the off chance that you remember anything, don't hesitate to give me a call."
The enigma of a man digs into one of his trouser pockets, producing a crisp white card. Sev tries to muster up whatever confidence remains in his aching bones and plucks the business card from the man's gloved hands. He chances a look at the bold lettering embossed into the middle of the sturdy cardstock.
Arrius Vadher
Director of the Panemian Bureau of Investigation
000-000-3869
Sev tears his gaze upwards, ready to release a slew of questions on the man, but finds himself staring at an empty space. He usually digs the mysterious type, but Sev only feels creeped out. It'll probably be smart to lock his door tonight, wouldn't want to wake up getting kidnapped. He should chuck the business card into the nearby pond, but Sev finds himself tucking his new prize into his back-pocket.
"Alright, the party's over. Time to go," Dorado huffs out, pushing himself off the nearby bench.
Before Sev follows his companion into the night, he takes one last look at the koi pond. His broken reflection smirks up at him, devil horns and pointy teeth on full display. Sev's echo calls out to him, whispering truths that he's done his best to avoid.
Murder.
Liar.
Coward.
Hello.
I hope everyone had a lovely holiday season! I was going to post this before the New Year began, but it is what it is. I've been looking forward to sharing this prologue for the past year, so it's surreal to post it. Sev is a special character to me - the OG sea rat, if you will. If you'd like to read more about him, I encourage you to check out Centrifuge written by symphorophilia. Haiden did such an amazing job with him!
Anyways! Some new power players have been introduced and we catch up with last year's victor. More will be revealed in due time, so I hope you're as excited as I am!