Author's Note: There will be two final chapters before I call this one quits, this one and one more for the victory tour. I'm hoping to finish it completely within week now that the suspense is finished.
I'll also be posting the first chapter of my next story Vale Ad Aeternum after the victory tour. The website for that one is in process and submissions are OPEN. I had 11/30 as the original deadline, but am extending that since I haven't actually gotten the story "proper" posted. Let's say tentative deadline 12/15/2015 at 11:59 pm Central Standard time.
Finally: I still do not own the Hunger Games
Glories
Aeden Sanderling - District 7 Mentor
Was there no virtue left in the world, Aeden thought, staring into the water. It was still night dark by the pond but the sun would be rising soon. The Games had just concluded and Jonas had been pronounced the victor.
He sighed as he stared at the smooth surface of the water, dark and shadowy. This is where he had always retrieved the bodies of his fallen tributes, year after year. Euripedes had come in to the mentor's hall to warn him there would be no bodies this year; Bailey's corpse had already, essentially been cremated. There was no coffin to bring home to the cemetery. Yet he couldn't help but feel drawn here, as he had every other year to pay her last respects.
He had failed her more than he had any of his other tributes. Everyone would praise him for his success with Jonas and they were right. He had brought a tribute home. Perhaps that was what made Bailey's loss even greater, if she had come home instead, it would have been as though two tributes had been lost. She had not died once, like most of his tributes, but twice. Of the years of dead children, Bailey was the only one who had truly turned into a monster. He shuddered as he remembered her face, masked by Leoric's twisted into that of a vengeful monster. The Games had done that to her, killing the innocent girl she had been and turning her into an unrecognizable fiend. How could he forgive himself for that on top of everything that had happened? He wished he could remember her as she had been, but how could he erase that terror from his memory? How could anyone?
"Jonas will be presented soon," Esthelrir's voice came behind from behind him. "I can give you a bit more time if that's what you need." Aeden nodded. Was this last wound something time would heal, though?
He had been so certain. Ever since Steric had pulled him aside and told him she was predicting a district seven victor. She'd never before told anyone her prediction aside from the bartender, who swore she had never been wrong. He had only assumed she had meant Bailey. So much greater was his agony that she was not coming home. Yet, perhaps it was a blessing after all. Jonas was coming home, he reminded himself as he stared at his reflection. Didn't that matter more than who was left behind? Yet the water before him and the two faces haunting him, one twelve years old with dark eyes and dark hair and the other eighteen with hair the color of fire, seemed to emphatically tell him "no."
"You carry a heavy burden, Aeden. Don't carry the weight of the dead," Eshtelrir reminded him, breaking into his thoughts. The dead had no one else to carry their memories, though, so the burden would always fall to him.
Jonas Tanner - District 7 Victor
No more darkness. Since the hovercraft had come for him he had been most relieved that everything had been illuminated. Never again did he long to be immersed in darkness fighting for his life. And never again would he be required to.
He winced as his stylists healed his wounds. Undoubtedly they wanted to present him unblemished to the Capitol. That didn't entirely make sense to him as none of his injuries were life threatening, but he allowed them to fuss over him.
"He looks positively dashing. Yes, absolutely that color!" Euripedes's voice penetrated the silence and Jonas smiled. Even though the escort could be obnoxious it was a relief to hear a familiar voice. One he was finally allowed to sit up he smiled at the Capitolite.
"Congratulations, Jonas!" He exclaimed, embracing him.
"Thank you. It has certainly been a pleasure to represent district seven. Now I find myself adequately prepared for another public audience. I would like to see Aeden now. It seems apropos that I extend my congratulations to him for his part in this victory. After all, it is a victory for district seven, as well as for myself."
"He will rejoin you after the celebration," a voice came from the door. Esthelrir, district eleven's mentor.
"But he ought to be here now. Does he not delight in the fact that he has finally successfully brought home a victor?" Jonas was sincerely confused at the look that clouded Esthelrir's face.
"Jonas, no one is gladder that you are to come home than Aeden. Yet, even as you were in the Games he faced his own peril."
"You needn't pester the boy about that now," Euripides insisted, fussing about Jonas, helping his stylists get him into a dark green suit.
"No. Relate the account to me," Jonas decided, apprehensive. If something ill had befallen Aeden he would certainly feel remorse for it. As sentimental as the former victor was, he had been his mentor.
"Esthelrir," Euripedes hissed. Clearly he was being evasive about something. Jonas flinched in pain as Euripedes's hand brushed a fresh wound.
"Leave us," Jonas instructed the Escort, his tone firm. He detested mysteries, even more so now after the past several days. Eurpides obliged, though reluctantly.
"You will be bombarded with false propoganda," Esthelrir whispered to Jonas, his voice low. "All of the mentors know the truth, though. While you were in the Games, Excelcia, from district four, murdered two of the other mentors. She also made an attempt on Aeden's life, unsuccessfully, but not without cost. He was rather shaken up."
"His reaction is predictable, and certainly consistent with his generally demorilized manner," Jonas retorted, yet part of him empathized with the older mentor. After all, after having been through the horrors of the Games himself, while he was far more composed than Aeden ever had been, he could see where a less mentally equipped individual would have been unnerved.
"Jonas, please, for both your sakes, be kind to him," Esthelrir urged him, a hand on his arm. "Come. It is time for your presentation."
The stage was decked out all in gold and Jonas entered to the welcome sound of thunderous applause.
"Welcome, Jonas," Calpurnia gushed as he took his seat beside her. "It looks like your confidence was well placed. Congratulations!"
"Thank you, Calpurnia," Jonas returned, extending his hand to shake hers. "I would also like to extend my gratitude to those who sponsored me throughout the way. I certainly wouldn't have been able to achieve victory without your assistance."
"How gracious, Jonas. Well, now we'll sit back and get to re-cap some of the most spectacular moments that led you here."
At last, Jonas thought. Finally he would be able to observe the faults of all of the fallen, knowing that he had accomplished what so many thought unachievable.
First the bloodbath flashed across the screen. Leoric pushing Nina to her death, Ridge fleeing, several of the other tributes fleeing and then the bloodbath for the Cornucopia. Tavia killed, fooling herself into thinking she was in an alliance with Tanner. Then two members of the "Brolliance", such a ridiculous name, being eliminated right off the bat, both Brody and Jayanti. Then Marune, in her illogical desire to hold the Cornucopia suffered the consequences at Dane's hand. Then Nero's well aimed arrow struck Gloria and her ally, Mobie, bemoaned her fate, wandering alone into a secluded area of the arena, one Jonas had never even known existed. How odd, he thought, that some of the tributes had been so sheltered. As he watched, eventually Bailey and Raivel made their way to the same sanctuary, allying with the boy. Fools, he thought; they should have eliminated him when they'd had the chance. He wouldn't profit them and all of them would simply stay there, sucking each other's resources.
The next day came on the screen and he watched as his former allies, Killian and Saphyra, split off and attacked Ibrahima's group. They had climbed a tree, and were nearly all safe, but Ibrahima and Freida remained on the ground at their own peril. The girl was taken down by Saphyra and Killian was injured. Only now, on camera, could he see the sorrow that had been invoked on that alliance, the tears in Ailis and Candice's eyes, the anger in Ibrahima's. It was all illogical. She would have had to die eventually if one of them were to go home. Did none of them realize that each cannon had brought them closer to the end?
Then came the attack on the Cornucopia. He knew this part well, but it was still satisfying to watch it. He and Nero had stood firm, with Dane alongside as Tanner, Margery, Elric and Leoric had attacked them. The other group had strength in numbers, but they had been better fortified and more skilled. Tanner's pitiful plea to join their alliance had brought Jonas one of his early kills. A smile crossed his face as he watched Margery flee, Elric lose his hand and then Dane breath her last with his knife embedded in her.
Even Margery had succumbed to the sentimentality of her alliance, he realized as he watched her return for her doomed, handless ally. Elric surrendered his goods to her and then begged her to leave, to rejoin the wounded Leoric. It was a wonder the two of them had lasted to the end! The sponsors had undoubtedly loved them as a district pairing, but her emotions ended up being her downfall, whether traced back to this, allying with Leoric or smashing that Gargoyle out of sheer fury. Jonas couldn't wait to see what had finally destroyed the boy.
The camera zoomed in upon the mountain, once again at dawn. Margery stood at the base of the slope as Altair and Ridge made their way up. Such a difficult climb, Jonas thought as he watched the girl struggle. The tunnels below certainly would have benefited them. He saw Altair's lips move, the rocks slip and her body tumble to the ground.
The attention once again returned to the Cornucopia as he, Nero and Saphyra split off in search of the source of the fires. Only now he could see for certain what he had suspected after the fact, the little girl from nine, Candice, had been lighting the fire as her group attacked the Cornucopia, taking it over and killing Killian. Perhaps it served him right, thinking he could have held it alone against the two enraged allies, even with his wound.
That in turn incensed Saphyra as she blindly charged Ibrahima, only to her downfall. Ailis and Candice disappeared into the Cornucopia and Jonas watched as he was swallowed by the darkness. That had been the most terrifying moment of the Games, he recalled, as he could see the look of fear on his face, despite the darkness. Lost and uncertain of the location of anyone else, part of him had been certain it was the end.
Not so far away, in the very same darkness, Candice, consumed by the darkness that had latched on to her attacked Ailis. The other girl, in self-defense, had been forced to kill her only remaining ally. Tears filled her eyes and Jonas sighed again. If she'd been more alert after the death of her ally the tide of their skirmish might have turned in her favor. But she too had allowed sentiment to get the better of her and, as he would now see as he fought her, she hadn't fought to the best of her ability. That had certainly worked in her favor.
But before he saw Ailis's downfall, the camera panned across the arena, returning once again to the sanctuary. Raivel had left and was now returning, badly wounded. How had the Gamemakers allowed them to remain in the sanctuary so long? Jonas instantly saw the reason, now that he was seeking it out. Bailey had a darkness over her face, even as she slept her features contorted into something monstrous, something evil. It was the precursor of what was to come, Jonas realized, the shadow of the girl who had nearly killed him, the girl who could have been victor.
The rustle in the sanctuary heralded Raivel's return, but Mobie, believing the oncoming tribute to be an enemy struck out. Bailey awoke and, believing Raivel dead, bludgeoned Mobie until his cannon sounded. No allegiance to Mobie, but certainly a mawkishness in mourning for Raivel, exacting her vengeance as an act of fidelity to her ostensibly departed ally. Yet Raivel wasn't dead. His wounds had inhibited him and he had been unconscious, yet he believed Bailey to be dead because she wasn't there when he awoke. What could have come to pass if the two of them had not made such a fatal error?
Next he saw Ailis, dead at his own hands just after the announcement of the final eight.
Then came the announcement of the feast and its culmination. He saw Ridge's clever move, that ultimately ended up being his undoing, his own lassoing of his bag. And then Leoric and Margery destroyed the Gargoyle. Then Nero appeared and the beeping commenced, resulting in the explosion. The numbers were finally dwindling: Leoric, Margery, Bailey, Raivel and himself. The final five.
Then came the part Jonas hadn't seen. Leoric came to consciousness a ways away, having been blasted, but still alive. He came face to face with Bailey, his mace held steadfast in his hand. Yet he chose to put it down, talking her down. And she attacked The girl whose parents had both been lambs to the slaughter in the Games had attacked in a fury. Not only that, she stripped his face, mercifully after she had killed him. Only then did the Gamemakers see fit to reunite her with her ally, who was quickly fading from consciousness. The look on Raivel's face, the peaceful way he said her name made it clear that he was certain she was already dead too. His cannon sounded the final three.
From here, Jonas knew what had happened, but it was an odd sensation being able to see it all happen. The cameras had been equipped with night vision, apparently, so he saw every move, how Margery had nearly knocked him to his death. Yet even with the cameras, the figure that came in on the gargoyle mutt resembled Leoric 's facial features; the audience may have even been fooled if they hadn't been paying rapt attention.
Margery's cannon sounded as the mutt ripped her to pieces. Comets blared across the sky, seeming all the more glorious now as he wasn't fighting for his life. Yet he felt the echo of the adrenaline as he watched Bailey towering over him, gloating. And he saw the brief instant of vulnerability, where he had laid down his sword in favor of the bow. She could have had him, Jonas realized! If she hadn't been gloating, she could have struck one sure blow with the mace and have been done with it. Yet she hadn't. And that was the difference between her fiery death, as though she was one of the comets in human form, and him standing on the stage. The crowd once again burst into thunderous applause as he was crowned with the victor's crown. He waved and was escorted off stage.
Steric Tarthan – District 10
She didn't belong here. By all rights she should be back in District 10, or on her way there by now, but she couldn't find it in her heart to leave, not after everything they'd been through. She might not get justice for Excelcia's victims, but she could at least ensure that the two district seven victors got off on the right foot.
She stepped back into the shadows, longing to stay invisible as Jonas and Esthelrir exited the stage together, to meet Aeden, coming into the hallway from the other direction. The cameras were surely still rolling; it seemed they never stopped.
"Congratulations, Jonas," Aeden whispered, extending his hand. "It's good to have you returned."
"I'm cognizant of the fact that you would have preferred that our places were reversed, Bailey's and mine," Jonas assumed, shaking Aeden's hand. "I do regret that my victory necessitated her death at my hand. Surely that is a sorrow to you in your current ailment. Yet you can rest assured she died honorably and now you have a fellow mentor prepared to defend our district's honor." Aeden nodded, saying nothing in reply. Jonas paused, waiting for him to say something, anything. "Well, you look little worse for the wear having been attacked. I suppose you must be a better fighter than Esthelrir let on or than I would have supposed."
"Not all wounds are visible," Aeden whispered, barely audible. His hand was beginning to tremble.
"A psychological frailty. That's the most debilitating trait," Jonas scoffed. "That's the difference between a victor and a dead tribute. Aeden, that's the difference between you and I as well. However, since we will be mentoring each other. . ." That was enough for Steric. Victor or not she wasn't willing to stand there and watch Jonas bully Aeden. She strode up to him and smacked him hard across the jaw.
"Ow!" Jonas exclaimed, quite taken aback.
"That!" she hollered. "You can feel that. Aeden can't. Slap him and he won't feel a thing. That's what Excelcia did to him."
"What do you . . ." Jonas fumbled as he struggled to figure out what was going on.
"I'll hit you again if you don't get off your high horse. Yes, you won. Yes, I predicted you would because you are good. But Jonas, you're also a pompous ass. All of us have won, all of us have gone through the same thing you have and come out on the other side. And you do not have a right to look down any of us, or any of your future tributes because you don't think they did well enough. Because that, that's how these terrible things happen. That's how we get more demons like Excelcia and goodness knows we have enough of them. So go back to district seven, tell tales of your glory days, but do not forget what you just saw on the screen as clear as day. You were vulnerable, Jonas. In a split-second you could have lost."
"But I didn't." Jonas tried to recover and Steric slapped him one more time, with less force this time, but still enough to get her point across.
"You will never know the strength or weakness of another person unless you walk in their shoes. None of us can do that for the others, but it's our duty to try to understand, to be together and support each other. Because when you've been through what we have, that's all you've got in the end."
The three men were silent and Steric just stood there, staring them all down, daring Jonas to tell her she was wrong, daring Aeden to say it shouldn't be him standing here and daring Esthelrir, well, she didn't know what he could possibly do to sabotage what she'd just said. She was about to walk away, convinced, when the older mentor placed his hand on her shoulder. He didn't say anything, just smiled and she knew she was right. Then, looking into Jonas's eyes, watching as he absorbed what she'd just said, she started to believe he would be a more noble, compassionate victor than he had been a tribute. And Aeden, well, his eyes were still unreadable when Steric decided she'd been sober for far too long and headed back to the train that would take her home.
"According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones tonight shall lie
Most like a soldier, ordered honorably.
So call the field to rest, and let's away
To part the glories of this happy day."