Skye held the cameras, Woof tolerated them, Aspen used them. Elan dominated them. Like the reaping, blonde dancing onto the stage with an excited smile as she speaks those magical words. 'I volunteer'. Volunteers had been a thing in One, the kind of thing nobody wanted to raise as odd but also the kind of thing that. Well, for the Capitol the girls and boys taken under Victor wings provided entertainment. They provided excitement, they provided an element to the Games that nobody else could match. That, and that alone, was why One and Two and Four were tolerated when their boys and girls seemed more competent with weaponry than they had any right to be.
But Elan wasn't like the other girls from One, pretty little things who promised much yet always cried and died when push came to shove. For one, on the walk through crowds from the Justice Building, en route to the train, she took the time to stop and smile and chat with reporters. Discuss her plans (or what of them she was willing to share), giggle and explain that she just prayed that the Capitol would love her as much as she loved them. Not that that, she promised, was ever in doubt. After all, she was loyal, she was ready and she was looking forward to the win.
The win. That elusive thing. Tributes are one thing, but Victors? A whole different ball game, and of course it wasn't like any of the blonde Ones were expected to win before Elan. No, the bookies had said. This would be a Two victor, or maybe a Four. The fisher children always put up one hell of a show, after all. Hadn't had a Victor since Mags, they're more than due for one.
A few people made a lot of money from initially high-odds bets on what was expected to be a likely weaker tribute.
Elan's arrival in the Capitol was met with a similar reaction to her route through the crowds back in One. Railings had been installed, keeping the Tributes and Mentors separate from the hordes waiting to see them. The Games were no longer a thing people watched once a year because they tolerated it. Now, in spite of everything the Capitol had wanted to do to keep it still a punishment, it was a spectacle. Reporters pressed to the railings, and even though her District Partner Sachs shied away from the cameras like a horse before the whip, Elan was more than content to smile and wink at them. Like it wasn't her last days in the Capitol, or as likely to be..
She promised that she'd return, she promised that she'd be the one to show the Capitol exactly how a properly patriotic Victor behaved. She promised pain and brutal killing and did it all with a candy-sweet smile on her face. The one thing she couldn't give up, wouldn't give up, was her personal life. Questions to that extent were met with a giggle and a wink and a promise that 'it would all be answered'. Nominally, the walk from the train to the car was a five minute affair. Sniffling Threes, terrified Fives, morose Tens filed past, and all the while got no camera attention past a cursory brush. It took two hours before Elan apologized profusely to those still waiting, and promised she'd be answering more questions after she won.
The fact that this was the first year of Tribute Parades, of the boys and girls being run up and down the boulevard towards the Presidential palace for a speech from President Ravenstill, further helped. Because, late that night when Elan and Sachs were the first ones to roll out into the Capitol's streets, it was the kind of rolling out that drew applause and too much camera attention. Her dress was more titillating than strictly necessary, that was true, but the real shocker was the paint. Body-paint, the boy and girl done up in matching silver and gold.
It was like Elan had practiced it. Admittedly, given Ruby's satisfied Cheshire grin, she probably had. Movements were smooth, smooth like butter, as she waved and smiled and winked for the amusement of the crowd. Gorgeous, that was the word they used, and who could ever call her anything else when the beauty from One was taking up a dozen times the screen time of any of the other children.
Yes, Elan ate up the Camera light, and it wasn't even entirely because she was the most skilled tribute. The next three days were something of a mystery. The parades, her interviews were played on loop, but in a move that abandoned previous standards she wasn't kept cooped up like an exotic bird beneath the hotel they were staying in. Instead, every night, Ruby would chaperone her out, and Elan would entertain guests until well into the small hours. A constant stream of supplicants, promising to do this or that if she'd do what they wanted. Always in the arena, out of the arena requests were forbidden by Ruby.
The most upmarket restaurant in Panem, that visit was promised in advice as if people wouldn't come regardless of how early they heard. It was a nice dinner, she said to a reporter, pasta and bacon in an egg sauce and a simply divine dessert that tasted like the best almonds straight from home. Bell's nightclub, where even though Pluribus Bell still joked about pining for missing Lucy Gray Baird and even though half the Capitol found that act by now a little stale the old man was more than happy to let the girl from One leap up on the stage and perform a couple of songs to support the band playing tonight. She wasn't even half bad, and that was after the drink Ruby had let her have.
The third night saw her appear at a party hosted by the Heavensbee family. A chance for her to be all polite, and smile, and talk to the high society of Panem, because if nobody else the Heavensbees would be able to provide her with the contacts she needed to drive through the arena. She was the perfect lady that night, photographs were snapped to no end of her in that yellow jewelled necklace, that wreath around her head as if she were already finished with the Games, the smell of lavender wafting after her. The black furs around her shoulders, supporting a dress that was almost as popular as she.
What she did during the days was a mystery, Gamemakers after all are secretive. Apparently, as gossip ran (Bellator got very drunk, and Oceanus was prone to his rages), she wasn't training with Two and Four, wasn't acting the perfect second fiddle to her allies as she was meant to. Instead, Elan was acting, according to high level sources, like she was at a birthday party where she only knew the birthday child. Running off, spending 15 minutes working at a station with the out-district children and getting to know them. Giggling and showing the boy from Seven exactly how good she was with the tomahawks on display, sending him off in tears.
She was, by all accounts, an absolute hellion in Training, and with a score of eleven she had to have done something right. But nobody held that against her, nobody could hold that against her when the gorgeous young woman was laughing with the high end of Capitol society, sharing a chat with Persephone Price as if the glamorous heiress wasn't a new ally but one of her bosom friends. Rumour mills spread that there'd been an outrageous contribution from the usually nominally pro-Six railroad tycoons, but they'd only find that out on the day.
It was her interview where Elan was the real prize, though. District One is always up first, that's tradition by now, and as is usual it's the girl who comes out first. After a day of 'interview prep' that had been made up largely of visiting more celebrations, getting to know more glamorous Capitolites, it was expected the interview may be a bit of a dud. Still, a bit of a dud with the formidable performance she'd put in so far was hardly an issue.
Instead, as with everything, Elan knocked it out of the park. Elan was the one to dance up on stage in a pure-white dress that set Capitolite housewives in tears of delight because they'd just love to see her get married, before they convinced their husbands or wives to pay just a little bit more to ensure the girl from One would want for nothing. Elan was the one to gossip with Lucky, promising that she'd met hundreds of lovely people and that she was sure, sure that every one of them would want to see her get home safe. Elan was the one to coo, and smile, and finally reveal her story. A stroke of genius, in hindsight.
She'd come from nothing. Come from poorer parts of One, even by Natoma's standards. The Capital of One, as if every Capitolite from north to south wasn't fully an expert on One after the whirlwind days. Her sister had been a maid, employed by the District at just sixteen to work in Ruby Montmartre's house because they needed the income and if she had the option to be a good little staffer then she'd jump to attend it. Elan went after her, helped around because of course she should. Elan's papa, not father, papa, was busy at work. Mama, and the tears in her eyes could be seen from the back row according to the audience, was dead. An accident in the gem processing facilities.
There was never another accident, not when such sudden scrutiny had been passed on. Several women sold jewellery, to atone for some idea of guilt because this girl who was so close to being Capitol had felt a tragedy hit them. Raised sponsor funds. Of course, they bought it back after regret, but it was the thought that counted. Right?
Elan sold herself like a lifejacket to a drowning man. She was the hit, and when lacklustre interview after lacklustre interview failed in comparison to reach the standards that she had tossed upon the city, well. It was no surprise that her interview was front and centre page. Every giggle, every wink, examined in minute detail. Those who knew, those who'd studied acting and bet against her, panicked. Most, the smart ones, shifted bets. The rest simply pulled out.
That last night, there was no appearance by Elan. There was promises from Ruby and Nutmeg that she (and Sachs, Nutmeg promised with little hope in his eyes) were resting, ready for the big day. Their big day. The big day when they would show the world, show Panem exactly what a girl from One with everything to win could do.
The Cornucopia sat astride a mighty river. This, they promised, was just a little while south, along the border with Two. Because of course it was. Of course it was close to the Capitol. The dry heat was visible, but it was lush and green, and after the hit that was the shifting sands and burning horror of last year's arena, who could blame everyone who was oh so excited about this year? It was gorgeous, like a little slice of heaven had been dropped into the mournfully lonely stretches around the Capitol.
It was gorgeous. The perfect arena for gorgeous Elan. Nobody brought up how odd it was the tomahawks, food, matches and a bag were just metres from the girl. How when she lunged forward, the tomahawks were in her hand, and then in a perfect spiralling toss the one from her left hand was dug into the chest of the boy from Seven like she'd practiced. The boy she'd reportedly terrorized. Terror was gone now, in favour of empty eyes and a first body, blood sprayed across the grass like so many red stains from a flicked painter's brush.
She killed two more, the girl from Nine with the spike of an axe in her throat and the boy from Six. Six was popular, Six looked good, Six hadn't had a Victor yet and people said they deserved one. Six wasn't able to escape in time, and when the alliance of One, Two and Four's girl, plus Five's boy, found him in the Cornucopia? Well, it was all too easy for Elan to take him by his hair and drag him to the river, axes slung at the belt at her side. To dunk his head underwater, let the poor boy cough and splutter for air when she brought him back up before doing it again. Any last doubters that this was the girl to sponsor vanished like snow in Capitol summer.
It took fifteen minutes for him to die. Four's girl looked on with dismay. Nodded at the others. After all, the girl was that popular. Too much of a liability. As long as she was alive, she wouldn't be allowing any of them a chance to shine. Two's girl, the one Elan had reportedly fooled around with, threw the knife that split her belt, forcing Elan to look as her tomahawks fell. It was the work of a moment for Sachs to drive the longsword down, until Elan rolled away with a whimper of what could be fear, so different from the collected confidence of the Capitol. Viewer numbers spiked. Two, three, four, five hundred thousand. This was the kind of break you didn't see every day. Capitol, One, Two were paying attention. Even the rest, the outlier districts, as Two's girl turned away and Elan grabbed a handful of sand. Tossed it for Sachs' face, and scrambled up.
She managed to get away. Made a dash for it, and though Sachs was screaming to follow, the others wouldn't come. Elan would die on her own, they said. They'd let exposure, mutts take her. Five of them, one of her. Worst comes to worst, they should be fine in a fight.
When the sponsor numbers came up, flashed in data, the 'fuck me' could be heard halfway to Twelve. The numbers meant that Elan wouldn't die on her own. The numbers meant exposure wouldn't take care of her. The numbers meant parachutes fluttered down like gulls on a stray piece of food, and Elan was more than happy to collect. Sleeping bags, new tomahawks, an array of vicious knives. Food and water and medical equipment if she needed them. The bounty was joked to be a second cornucopia, all enough for one person to become the biggest threat in the Arena.
It took Elan two days of ranging from her base to find another tribute. The malnourished little girl from Eight, crawling through foliage. Deep scratches across her back from some mutt, but Elan promised that there was no need to worry. That she'd been abandoned by her allies, that she needed new ones. There was no need to fear, because Elan would make sure that soon enough Eight was completely safe. They walked back to Elan's camp together, Elan helped bandage wounds and gave Eight her first proper meal. It was only then Eight revealed she had nothing on her.
Bargains struck with the fairies of Seven's culture were invoked frequently afterwards. Made jokes of, turned into the kind of exciting story that only a Capitolite could think of. The little girl had eaten from Elan's food, partaken in breaking bread without payment. She offered nothing to the gorgeous blonde, offered less than nothing because she was dead weight, and had the audacity to need medical attention as well?
Elan took back every cut, every scrap of attention Eight had demanded from her. It took thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of knives whirling, of skin in tattered ribbons tearing from angry red flesh, of a face that wasn't so cute any more. Until Elan brought down the tomahawk into that red mess that used to be a face, and made an end of it. Some turned away, some chose to pull sponsorship. Others knew this was what the Games were for. Elan was simply using what she could, using the abilities she'd picked up from time among the savages to get sponsor funding.
It worked, clearly, from another flock of silver parachutes in exchange for a claw dripping red drawing a body up. A good deal. Eight simply didn't know the fae-like girl she'd struck a deal with, assumed they were friends. They weren't.
Four went the same way. She was out ranging, hunting. She'd heard the roar of the cannon, seen the number eight projected onto the belly of a hovercraft lurking above the Arena. She knew something was killing. And given Elan hadn't died, well. Who else but the girl from fair One would have the formidable talents to kill that quickly? Only three days after, Four went a-ranging, exploring far beyond in hopes of tracking and ending her biggest threat to Victory.
Four walked into a trap. The spinning tomahawk that buried itself in her shoulder ensured it was the last trap she'd ever walk into, when Elan detached herself from shadow and sashayed towards her like something from a nightmare. Four tried to plead, tried to bring the trident in her now disabled right arm up and stab towards the girl giggling and skipping at her. It didn't matter, in the end. The second tomahawk found a home in her throat, and Elan had now killed five.
Two went down to a disease from drinking river water untreated. It left him like his allies left when they saw he was done for, but then something else came. Alone, whimpering and retching silver fluids in a thin stream onto the ground. He died crying for his Mama to come and hold him. When Elan saw the '2' projected onto the belly of a hovercraft, she bounced and smiled. One step closer to returning home, one step closer to Victory.
The outliers died. Elan stayed safe, she even cooked when a gas-powered camping stove was delivered with some helpful guides. The sponsor money juggernaut continued to bulldoze through challenges. She lost an axe when a mutt snapped the shaft, a new one with a stronger shaft landed. Wanted some home food? Recipes, ingredients to make a facsimile with the resources delivered were landing.
After the Sixteenth, sponsor gifts got a lot more expensive.
Elan was finally alone, against Two's girl and Sachs. Traitors who tried to plant a blade in her heart. But she'd show them. She'd show them all and they'd know.
It was two on one, until the thrown tomahawk from her left broke flesh and saw Two slip to the ground with a wail and the roar of a cannon. Sachs' slashes managed to cut her, leaving Elan bleeding, but she got in close and sunk the tomahawk she'd kept in her right hand into his neck. He didn't die immediately. Lingered long enough for her to bring down the blade and cut off his right, sword, hand. Glare, and blame him for betrayal. It should have been condemned, this was her district partner. But he was a traitor. She was a Victor.
Returning to the Capitol was greeted with an excitement not seen in years. This was a proper Victor. This was the kind of girl the Capitol wanted to get to know so much better, and with demand for that high it was near trivial to arrange for Elan to be screened directly to television sets nation-wide from her hospital bed. There, the Capitol, the Districts could see the girl who'd come back to them as if it was just a day trip, an excursion out which saw them having oh so much fun along-side her.
Ruby, Nutmeg were more than happy to play second fiddle to their charge. After all, they'd just taken that reward of a new Victor home, and the others wouldn't complain that a child had gotten home. Some had concerns over the methods she'd used, but for now those sat behind the idea that she was a child forced into doing unspeakable things to survive. That was likely the idea coursing through their heads when, a week after the final cannon had fired, the Victors sat together. Fourteen of them, all posed for such a pretty group picture.
And during the next two days, between Elan's being declared fit for release and her final interview before going back home. Well, she could be found at every party, every celebration worth a damn. Twirling like an excited little bird, smiling and laughing and chatting with every billionaire businessman who tried and succeeded in making her acquaintance. Yes, Elan was a starlet, and that was only confirmed by her post-Games interview.
It was a tradition by now, they said. To have their Victor, the Capitol's Trophy, walk up to the stage to sit and have a nice chat with Lucky Flickerman and explain just how proud, how excited they were to have won. Without exception, every year there was a sobbing young man, young woman on the stage as they were shown the acts they'd done to survive and were unable to defend themselves without being leapt on like some prey animal.
Elan was expected to be different at first. She handled her first kills, at the bloodbath, with that near-trademarked smile and laugh. Explained how betrayed she felt, looking like a wounded puppy when Lucky brought up how exciting it was. After all, they shouldn't have been having fun. She'd thought they'd loved her, and when that was said with an overdone pout and a frown it was so easy for the Capitol to laugh about how sweet she was.
Because sweet extended to the brutality with which she'd slaughtered Eight's girl. Her stylist, some up and coming girl, had given her an outfit in samite and opals, offered a simple well done. It was pretty, but then Lucky was pulling up the footage of her luring Eight in. Treating Eight's wounds, feeding and watering the girl, until she'd found the girl had nothing to offer.
Then butchering the girl. Like Elan was from Ten, like the girl was a pig. It was brutal, and Lucky was content to watch every moment of it, ask Elan questions. She didn't cry. Her jaw was set. But it was a close thing. Watching as she giggled and painted patterns in red blood, slick and threatening. As she put patterns on trees, that made Four so curious. As she cut pieces of flesh and skin, pierced an eye. As she set her traps.
At least she finished it.
Four was next, that was less painful because she'd made it quick. Taken down Four with the efficiency and grace she'd promised. Tomahawk to the arm to disable, then through the throat. Then the Two on One, brutal and quick but it was the ending. She hadn't known how Two's boy had died until that went onto the screen. Didn't care, but she watched an agonizing sped up montage of it, because she had to see fluid spill out of his mouth and the boy sob. How else could the recap have been complete?
Then it was time for questions. Questions that tore every answer and left no crumbs, questions that probed far too deep. Questions that left Elan exposed, and drew more tears, more begging to stop, more everything thn the Games ever had. It just wasn't fair, really.
It was over. Elan was ushered off stage, stuttering and with her head buried in Ruby's shoulder as if she was upset. She wasn't, of course, everybody in the Capitol knew that. She was a Victor and so proud, so pretty. No way she was upset. The other Victors never said where they were going, but they were spotted at Bell's. They'd booked out the place, reporters were denied entry where call girls and boys, the occasional Capitolite were welcomed in. It wasn't fair, to tell the people no they couldn't see inside through the lens of a journalist's camera. But in the end, wasn't that what life was? Not fair?
Elan was a playgirl, after she won. The kind of woman who could be found hanging off the arm of the woman or man lucky enough to enjoy her company for the evening. Paparazzi followed her in a way that Nike, Skye, Aspen weren't tracked. Interviews, the latest glamour shots were all that was needed for people to proclaim her the most gorgeous, the most talented, the best Victor. She was the first Victor people wanted even outside of Games season, and that was why she was allowed to come to the Capitol. Set a precedent that others wanted to follow.
It's never over, Elan's never out of the spotlight. Scheming, because Two was so clearly aiming to be better than One. Getting ideas that took her far above her station, took her to the Capitol. Clambering over politician after politician, convincing each of them, until finally the order was signed off and sent to the accepting nation. Namely, that One would be slipping in favour of the Capitol, providing an academy with the funding of the Capitol that would help the nation because now the Capitol would have loyal Ones helping with tourism, reception duty, all the jobs pretty girls and boys are perfectly suited for.
Elan was the one to drive the establishment of the Spire, everyone knew that. Elan was the one who taught girls and boys, at opening 200 a year, to bow and coo and curtsey and be such good playthings for the Capitol. Started small, moved up. Got them all good jobs, because a certificate from the Spire with her proud Capitol approved curriculum and trainers went a long way. And maybe it was wrong, maybe Elan had done things that weren't hers to do, but when she was working to bring the District into line with a tradition that could properly help the children, make sure no little girls and boys from One ever had to cry and be scared of the Reaping because a willing volunteer slipping in was so safe. Well, who could blame her?
Back at home and outside, she continued to work on the Victors Village. Ruby and Nutmeg were institutions by now, the twirling butterfly from One was something new and that transformed the village. Flowerbeds were dug and attended to, girls and some boys were snuck in to bedwarm and back out again. Nominally it wasn't allowed, nominally all such visitors were meant to be out by curfew, but. Well, it was gossip. Cameras were camped outside near 24/7 with reporters on site from all the Capitolite tabloids. Reporting on Elan's latest escapades, because how could you not?
And slowly Victors became more of a thing. Elan was called back to the Capitol frequently, invited (as stressed by President Ravenstill and whoever was asked) by citizens. Attended all the glitzy parties, smiled and twirled. Danced with socialites and anyone else who asked, even laughingly rocked the cradle of the newest child in the Heavensbee family and promised that of course she'd be attending his naming ceremony. Anything else would be an insult, more than an insult, besides she was certain the Heavensbee family would be more than glad to continue working with her.
They were. The next year, the Heavensbees were noted for their contribution to One six months before the tributes had even been reaped,, and after all where would they be without their friendships with the blonde Victors? Having Ruby, Elan and a dragged along Nike attending their celebrations that week to congratulate meaningless person after meaningless person on meaningless act after meaningless act.
None of that would be said, of course. Not prim and proper at the best of times.
Elan and the Victors were a staple around the city, three months even after her Victory. One or more could be found at any time, after all they were still young enough to be a great fun to the people. Perry could frequently be found frequenting the bars and establishments, drunk out of his mind and fully willing to have a lovely conversation with anyone who asked. Oceanus was less frequent, but any of the burgeoning tourist industry's patrons could head out to Four. Catch the man on a beach and smile at him and get along famously, asking about his plans.
Elan withdrew more, One's Victor's Village had the gates installed and even the Capitol wouldn't risk the ire of their stars with trying to get their people allowed through the gates. Elan made public appearances often enough, Ruby as well. Nutmeg less than was welcome, but c'est la vie.
Nobody questioned the long sleeves, sleeves that concealed white scars running the length of the arm. Nobody questioned the continual use of make-up that masked bruises on her hands, her face, her chest. The soft voice that misted, not fully hid but misted, a throat raw from screaming. The drugs that kept her awake even after sleepless nights, after the long nights dark and filled with terrors. Of the nights that hid mutts and killers, of the night that concealed broken bodies and blood beneath her hands.
After all, Elan had climbed out of the Arena. She'd won, and that was enough for a proud status among everyone, Capitol and District alike. And if she was asked why she was sobbing and whimpering at night, well, they wouldn't. Besides, it was always better then she washed down a cocktail of drugs with a probing tongue. Probably contributed to her reputation, in hindsight, not that she didn't contribute heavily to her own reputation.
Pretty Elan. Pretty, excited Elan. That was her reputation, and she saw for the moment no need to challenge it. Better to look sexy, make everyone like you, and suck their wallets dry like a vampire to make yourself absolute shedloads of sponsor cash. Worked for her in the Arena, why wouldn't it work outside?
That was a question for someone else, because for Elan it worked like a charm. One was far and away the best off with her as a figurehead, and even if they lost, well. They had a good, well setup Sponsor base, ready and waiting in the wings because they could trust One.
Even the next year, with a shining new Victor dragged from that ruined arena, the new champion was a staunch second place because what else could the Capitol do if not coo over Elan again. One's girl had been drab this year, a repeat from them was an unlikely performance. Drab and reaped, as if it was planned as to not take away thunder from future Tributes. A fair plan, and to be fair it worked. The girl was not the most popular, and when she lost her head mentally and then physically?
Well, Elan's always there to soften the blow for One. For the Capitol.
Author's Note
I had fun with this, so that's always good! And this completes my holy trinity of establishing figures in 1, 2 and 4. As always, I very much hope you enjoyed it, and thank you to everyone who drops a review - the notifications make my day!