𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅
The cameras' cuts from one alliance to the other drilled the message close to insanity. The Careers were preparing to go back to the Cornucopia for the instruments needed for Three's plan, where a trap awaited them. Their bags were piled up and prepared to be distributed under District Two's girl hawk-like vigilance, their empty tins of water left about, only surviving on the occasional gifts from Sponsors, which had undoubtedly ceased to exist for the past few minutes.
Dove waited impatiently for the Gamemakers' intervention. At any moment, there would be a change or a stray mutt that would trigger the ending battle. The Careers would either be forced back to the Cornucopia, as they were well prepared to do so, or they could be left off the hook for a while longer, whichever the Capitol audiences so desired.
A tiny spark flickered past District One boy's head at the speed of a hummingbird's wing beat, announcing to which side the audiences were inclined that year. They ached to see more spilt blood, and not by fearsome and horrifying monsters created and directed by the Gamemakers, but by the tributes themselves. The children who, at the sight of the forest fire that had broken out before they could blink, could do nothing other than panic and run away, forgetting their well-prepared bags behind as if they were nothing.
Fireballs flew past, and entire trees collapsed on themselves, blocking paths and extending the smoke further, drowning their tired lungs and collapsing their hopeless sight. The Careers chase for five more minutes of survival, as the cameras bluntly pointed out, led quite directly to the Cornucopia. Not all of them made it there.
The treeline was just in sight when a tree collapsed on Two's girl. She screamed and cried, pleading her allies for help, but none spared a glance in her direction. They kept on running, not daring to look back for a second while collecting quite a few minor cuts and first-degree burns on the way. The Cornucopia was just in sight when a cannon roared through the Arena. Nothing else, just the cannon. The new Head Gamemaker surely had a flare for not letting tributes' deaths be shown unless strictly necessary, which was odd beyond comprehension.
Angel left the kitchen in a dash at the sound of the cannon, Mags trailing far behind. "Who was it?"
"Girl from Two," Dove replied. "You should stay. The ending battle is any minute now."
"OK..." Angel doubted, but soon sat down by her little sister's side, taking her in her arms. "Only five left to go, then."
Three cannons appeared to shout out at them at the same time. In the television, the ending battle played out with an added horrifying detail that Dove had attempted to forget for years. Her brother held his trident high, fighting back District Two male tribute's sword while District Seven's boy sat behind him, still alive, but badly injured. The boys from Districts One and Three, and the girl from Seven, lay well away from the main commotion, either on their backs or over their stomachs, bleeding away despite the cannons long ago declaring their deaths.
In his last ounce of bravery, Seven's boy wobbled to his feet with his axe in hand and ran straight into the fight, swinging, but failing, to dash into Two's stomach. Overcome with terror, Two's grip on his sword faltered, and no sooner had he realised his demise than a trident found a home in his chest. Blood dripped from his trembling lips as he fell down, shivering and pleading, desperate for life. It was almost too cruel to watch. Like a scared child, Two's eyes widened in fear, their prior colour overthrown by tears while all that could be heard far and wide throughout the nation were his coughs, the choking sounds of blood and despair marking his last seconds alive.
"Here's a tribute to sympathy, Two," mumbled Melo, taking the trident out of Two's chest, only to dive it back in the next second.
The cannon roared.
"Twenty-two dead." Dove was not strong enough to continue the sentence.
"One to go," concluded her mother.
The trident lay forgotten on Two's chest when Melo turned to his ally, arguably better prepared for death than one could deem possible for a teenager. Roars played far beyond the woods and the river, but none for any cannon. It was no mystery to Dove what would happen next; the beasts had been unleashed. Mutts would attack at any moment, and, if Seven had in fact any decent chance to stand a fight against Melo, perhaps that could lead to a thrilling ending for the Capitol, but, as things were, it simply meant a special televised death.
Worst of all, Seven seemed to understand that all too well. "Congratulations on your Victory, Four. Now, get out of here before they get to you-"
"What about you?" Melo asked, receiving quite the odd stare from his ally.
"Are you dumb or does salt water affect your brain? You seriously think I can win against you like this?" Seven proved his point quickly, failing to get up despite the intense effort and strength he put into it. "Come on, I won't last a minute. But... please don't let those things get to me. Please, Melo."
That left Melo star-struck, his mouth slightly agape as he became the one to stare oddly at his ally. When the trident got back to his hand, everyone deemed that year's Hunger Games' over, but it wasn't. Melo gripped the trident tightly with one hand as the other wrapped itself around Seven to haul him over his shoulder. Despite Seven's own complaints, Melo forcefully dragged his ally all the way to the Cornucopia, where he had to put the trident aside for a minute to pull Seven to the top.
"Just do it already," Seven groaned, holding a hand to his chest as if there were any wounds there, or he was trying to make it simple for Melo to know where to aim.
"What if I said that I can't do it?" Melo asked, his knuckles turning white under the pressure he was subjecting his trident to.
"I'd say that you're an idiot and that your sisters are probably cursing your stupid guts right about now," replied Seven, an air of smugness improper of a dying person. "Just do it, please. And, will you tell my family that I love them, please? It's just... I never really thought how important it was to say it before, you know?"
Inhuman screeches fled their confines by the woods to put an end to the madness. They lashed away at the dead tributes in their path, though, overall didn't meddle with them for long. The sun was rushed into sunset when the mutts surrounded the ground level around the Cornucopia. The Gamemakers were giving Melo a special boost-pushing someone to a mutts' death was undoubtedly easier than doing it oneself.
"And that's my cue to leave." Seven smiled, an exhausted yet hopeful smile that could drive even the most blood-thirsty Capitol's audiences to tears, but one only directed to a single person at that moment; Melo. "Hey, do you think we could have been friends if we had met before all this?"
"I don't think we would have liked each other's guts very much." A tear escaped Melo's eye, setting off numerous reactions that Dove couldn't quite understand. "But we're friends now, aren't we?"
"Yeah," Seven breathed out. "Yeah, so, as a dying friend's last wish, will you please end it already?"
Melo hesitated, though he eventually nodded. "Alright... Goodbye, Joseph."
"You actually know my name? Such an honour." Seven's sight was strictly on Melo's eyes, ignoring completely the trident about to strike as he uttered his last words. "Goodbye, Melo."
With the roar of the cannon, the announcement came to be right away, "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the Victor of the Sixty-sixth Hunger Games, Melo Ogilvy! I give you-the tribute of District Four!"
The tribute in question, contrary to the shouts and cheers echoing throughout the Arena, could hear none of it as he cradled his friend in his arms. Melo was in a fit of tears, fighting against time and reason to keep his friend with him for a bit longer. His hands caressed Joseph's cheeks and petted his hair, but there was nothing to be done, no response to await.
With teary eyes and a constrained heart, Dove got pulled right into the celebration that was taking place in the middle of her living room. Angel shouted at the top of her lungs, "He's coming back home!", yet there was nothing she could say back. Not even a laugh or a smile. She was frozen in time, staring idly as everyone moved forward except her brother, who seemed just as lost. No hovercraft's appearance managed to distract him, much less convince him to leave Joseph's body behind. It was him and his dead friend in the Arena, and that was how the cameras let it be.
The broadcast got cut short, leaving the television to reflect Dove's bewilderment back at her before Caesar Flickerman took over. He carried with the show from then on, flashing his new sparkly suit and perfect smile at the camera with every joke until the announcement of the victor's retrieval from the Arena about an hour later than it should have been.
Despite the grandiose meal and the overall excitement in her home, Dove couldn't be any more present than the red wooden clock in the corner of the living room. When the moon had long since taken over the sky and the food had disappeared from their plates, she followed her mother and sister to the entrance, where the sisters said goodbye to Mags and Ron while their mother thanked Rhett and Theo for a speedy congratulatory visit that they had paid to the family five minutes before midnight.
Mags and Ron were chatting away with Angel when Dove's attention blinked back into existence. She tried to tune in to the conversation when something else lured her concern. Her mother's chat with Rhett and Theo was expanding beyond simple thanks, which, in what could only be deemed her mother's 'past' self, would have never been possible.
The conversation she was supposed to be listening to drowned out to let her overhear the one she and her sister clearly had been politely shunned from. Theo had only just laughed about something when Rhett decided that there was something other that needed his attention. The elderly victor patted her mother's shoulder and allowed a smug grin to flash on his face brighter than any of Caesar's suits. "Victorship will be tough. Be sure to teach him correctly. We wouldn't want him to commit our mistakes, now, would we?"
Her mother nodded. "I'll protect him properly this time."
Dove expected no explanations, and she wasn't let down. Satisfied with their caretaker jobs, all victors went to their respective homes, leaving the rest of the Ogilvy family to await the train in the commodity of their waking nightmares. It took until well past noon of the following day for the first notice of the new victor's arrival to reach Victors' Village in the form of a full set of Peacekeepers burdened with the task of escorting them to the train station.
There was a whole crowd ogling the fine line where the train tracks and the outline of the woods collided, chattering among themselves with great excitement about whatever rumours the Capitol could have created on such short notice. In less than five minutes, the train was visible far ahead, and it took as far as ten for it to pull up in District Four's station.
Dove fidgeted nervously, twirling her skirt's light fabric between her fingers while holding onto her sister's hand for support. Her brother had come back home. The thought was as surprising as it was foreign. Not once had she truly believed he could make it, but there he was. Stoic and cocky beyond measure, Melo waved at the cameras with a signature smirk that had been in Finnick's possession for the past year.
She didn't let him much time to step down from the platform when she jumped straight into his arms. That did not take Melo aback, much less did it take him long to reciprocate the gesture. He chuckled at her tears and hid them away from the cameras in his arms.
The crowd made their presence known by chorusing Melo's name, no last name, while clapping, prompting more than one camera to turn in their direction. Melo didn't mind that at all. The more cameras were on the crowd, the less would be on his family, especially his sisters. They were too frail to be under the spotlight, too pure to be corrupted by the Games. If only Angel had jumped like Dove, he could have thought that they both had a chance to survive, that they could make it out somehow. Perhaps they could even be granted the mercy of being forgotten by the reaping. But she hadn't moved. His older sister stood idly beside their mother, her face as rough as stone while her eyes widened in horror. The realisation had hit her with all its force. That same happiness they rejoiced for his survival was nothing more than a fleeting illusion; a cover. Next year would be her turn, and the Capitol would not permit another District Four victor.
"Welcome back," said Librae. "I hope you two don't plan to stay here until nightfall."
Tears kept on overflowing her eyes, but Dove could not care about them at that moment. She detached herself from Melo's arms and glanced at her family, her teary face sparkling under the sunset's entrancing light.
Each camera present spun to have a distinct shot of her chuckle, making it echo far and wide through the nation. "Let's go home then!"
The way to Victor's Village was packed with people left and right wanting to have a look at the new victor. Most would simply have a glimpse and then leave, but there were some who would voice their thoughts, either good or bad. The 'Pro-Hunger Games' people were the worst ones to listen to, and all they had to say were good things about Melo. At the very least, those against the Hunger Games had nothing but sympathy to show them, maybe even some words of comfort for the hellish weeks they had gone through, which their female tribute's family would continue to carry with them for years to come.
In less than they could blink, Melo's new house towered over them, blocking the sunlight from their reach. Dove expected to lose her brother to that promise of privacy and luxury, every inch all to himself, but her brother clearly had no such thoughts about it as he sighed disdainfully and turned around, his back facing the house.
"Yeah, I hate it. Let's go back home," he said and marched off before anybody could get a word in. "Before you think it or say it, no, Dove, I'm not crazy..." He turned back around, his eyes trailing from one person to another. "I just want to go back home." Again, he didn't let anyone intervene when he quickly composed himself, turning his prior sincerity into nothing more than a joke. "Don't tell me... you turned my room into a study!"
Dove laughed at that. "I wanted to turn it into a play area, but Angel wouldn't let me."
"Oh, Congrats! You finally learned how to joke around. Now there's not one chance that I'm not going back. I need to see for myself what you've done to my poor room," said Melo, a smirk far from his past Capitol-like ones spreading across his face like the sunset's light.
Angel shrugged and pulled herself together long enough to make the last comment. "I painted it bright yellow."
It was odd for Dove to watch her brother walk in a daze of memories all the way up to his room. He was clearly not surprised to see it in the same mess he had left it in. Nothing had changed. It was no wonder to her. Nobody had dared to set foot in Melo's room ever since the Reaping had struck their lives, turning them into nothing more than ruins.
"Melo," Dove called, grazing her brother's arm carefully not to startle him, "are you OK?"
Her brother sniffed deeply and wiped his eyes and nose with his sleeve. "Yeah, perfectly fine. It's just that I haven't had much of a good night's sleep after the Arena, you know? I'll be better soon. I'm just tired."
Whether she could believe his words or not, she hadn't much time to decide. Her mother strode into the room, her eyes clear and overwhelmingly compassionate for reasons Dove had no hints to understand. Again, she was cut short of all wonder when she and Angel got asked to prepare supper. They complied, setting up the table before going anywhere near the kitchen in case Melo chose to cook to gather his thoughts. When enough time had passed for a standard 'victor-to-victor' chat, Angel cooked the little she knew not to burn. It turned out to be quite the grand meal, excluding the few bits burnt.
"Dove, could you go tell Mum and Melo to come down, please?" Angel asked while carefully placing another plate over her already overwhelmed arms. "I'll go leave these at the dinner table. Make sure to tell them that they better not make us wait for long. I'm so hungry I might eat without them."
"You would wait until the end of the world for them to join supper, Angel. Don't lie." Dove chuckled and shook her head. "But before you say anything, I'll go. I don't want to wait until midnight to have supper, either."
Her sister thanked her and slowly made her way to the dinner table, where she settled each plate with great delicacy. Dove walked upstairs without much care. She brushed against the wall a couple times, but never hurt herself.
The door to Melo's rooms was just at arm's reach when she heard her mother's voice echo directly into her heart. "If you don't accept his deal, they'll die. And it won't be nicely, sweetie. No bullet through the head. They'll get reaped. Both of them. And you, and them, and the rest of us victors will know they will have no chance of ever getting out."
"So, you mean to say, I left the Arena for this?" Dove could hardly make out her brother's mumble through the rumble of her own mind. "I've survived for this? For them to only be in more danger? That's why I've kept myself alive for? I could have also been told sooner, so I could have killed myself right on the first day. It would have made things so much simpler. Angel could actually have had a shot at surviving next year, Mum! I've killed her... Oh, God, and I'll kill Dove too... They'll both die. Why? Why did I have to be picked first? Why did I have to live?"
In the stillness of horror, Dove's hand twitched at the echo of her own thoughts. It smacked against the door with a loud thud, startling both victors into a defensive position. She stood quietly for a moment, blinking her panic away as footsteps slowly approached.
"Mum? Melo?" She surprised herself with how calm her voice appeared to be, almost as if she hadn't heard anything at all. "Supper's ready, and Angel said if you don't go soon, she'll eat everything by herself."
Her mother doubted before replying with the same veiled calmness. "We'll be down in a second, sweetie. Tell her to save us something."
"I will." Dove hummed to herself and left, encountering Angel awaiting at the dinner table, fully prepared to dig in at the sight of the rest of their family. "They'll be down in a bit..."
"Victor's stuff?" Angel asked.
Dove took a minute to reply. "Yeah, just Victor's stuff."