Thanks to AstralKnight98, Tales from the Cluttered Desk, owlthewriter, Dani H. Danvers, and Very New To This for the reviews! And congrats to Very New To This for being the 400th review!
Enjoy the final chapter of this SYOT!
Epilogue: A Statue of Excellence
The Capitol
"And last item of the day… the promo spot for the arena!" Head Gamemaker Lucan Hadrianus told his fellow Gamemakers. It was the last item for his day, but the other Gamemakers would be working hard for the rest of theirs. Construction on the 60th Hunger Games arena was underway and there was plenty to do with only six months till the new Games began. Lucan, however, had spent the morning running around the morning shows and was ready to retire for the day.
"We're quite proud of the finish product!" The head of the Marketing Department informed the other Department heads and Head Gamemaker. An Avox dimmed the lights and set up the video for the Gamemakers to watch. A disembodied voice spoke to them over a black sceen.
Do you ever want to be taken… to a land of adventure?
The screen flashed brightly, showing the entire 59th arena for a moment before going black.
Do you ever want to be… a hero?
The screen flashed to a group of Capitolite children running with prop weapons, laughing as they traversed the Sweet Island.
Do you ever want to be… a part of history?
A few images of the 59th Hunger Games played out, most of them featuring Victor Rothschild who's popularity with the Capitol was still huge after six months. He'd be a cash cow for advertisers for years to come. The screen cut to black again, and the voice happily announced where the Capitolite audience could get all this.
Then join us on Monaghan Cruise Lines exclusive excursion to the 59th Hunger Games arena!
An image of the Monaghan family's newly reconstituted cruise line was shown, a shining luxury yacht cutting through a blue ocean and arriving at the 59th Hunger Games arena.
Enjoy luxury amenities on board Monaghan Cruise lines: fine dining, spas, and a classy environment befitting those that know how to travel in style.
Images flashed with the words of happy Capitolite families enjoying the cruise. Families eating, hanging by the pools, getting their backs rubbed by Avoxes, and adults enjoying some gambling.
Begin your adventure where the very Tribute of the 59th Hunger Games did on the newly constructed Cornucopia island!
In the middle island of the arena, the bare island that had held the Cornucopia and starting plates had been transformed into a town. Restaurants, bars, and shops had been constructed around the Cornucopia's base while the actually Cornucipa remained untouched. Statues of the Tributes stood on their respective starting plates, as the video showed Capitolites posing and taking photos with them.
Continue your adventure north to Sweet Island! And don't worry, you won't have to worry about getting wet on the crossing!
A ferry service would take families from the Cornucopia island to the Sweet and Sour islands. Going to the northern island first, the video showed children running through the candy forest, eating candy treats, and playing the newly constructed games there. The first was the Swamp Crossing where Capiolite children laughed and swung from the branches over the now safe chocolate swamp. Another was a cotton candy eating contest to see which child could eat through the cotton candy trees faster. More games followed, including one where a contestant would try to outrun a holographic Amaya as she chased after holographic Diesel.
And of course… the show stopper that is available for all ages. The most important game on the Sweet Island… Don't! Wake! Gummy!
Outside the Gummy Bear Mutts' cave, children crawled under the licorice vines while trying not to touch them and wake a now automated Gummy Bear Mutt. The winner of the contest would win all sorts of prizes and bragging rights
And parents, don't worry, if your kids have too much of a sugar high, send them on a jog to burn it off with our simulated Sour Island Fire Race! Kids get to compete against holographic racing flames to see if they can escape the horrifying flames! And! Don't forget to pick up an exclusive, only sold at the arena park- Tribute Werifesteria's clothing set!'
The screen went dark, the lights dimmed and smoke coming in. From the smoke and shadows, a model dressed in the fire retardant suit and mask Werifesteria had worn. The model was breathing heavily, leaning into the camera while a spooky tune played in the background and the model reached out with their hand, grasping for audience.
'Plus! A special feature for all our mischievous children included!'
On cue, fake blood began to fall inside the mask, mirroring how Werifesteria's own mask had filled. The promo then started showing all the souvenirs one could get from the shops at the arena: scales from the Gummy Wyrm mutt, a fire starting kit, photos from around the island, costumes of the outfits of the Tributes that year, little action figures of all the Tributes, and pricier, only the rich of the rich could afford items such as the actual weapons the Tributes carried in the Games, clothing from the Fallen, and – the most expensive item – the actual sword Victor Rothschild had stabbed in Werifesteria's skull.
So come visit us at the 59th Arena this season and be a part of history!
The video ended and a few claps erupted. "A little breathy but it works." Lucan informed the room. "The arena will sell itself. Get the final cut to distribution and get the ads out there."
The day ended after that and Lucan was off to do anything that didn't involve being the Head Gamemaker. Sure, he liked the job, but the fame… now that was the best part of it all. The feeling that he was influencing Panem. An entire nation, waiting with bated breath each year to see what he'd do!
Now that was power!
His limo was waiting for him along with a small entourage of influential Capitolites with nothing better to do than follow the Head Gamemaker around. They all jumped into the limo and started drinking. Lucan didn't plan to stop until he dropped later that night at a new club he was expected to attend and open for the Capitol. He was finding himself in high demand everywhere he went.
They arrived back at Lucan's apartment, passerby's snapping photos of Lucan and a few asking for photos with him. Lucan was happy to oblige before stuffing himself and his posy into the private elevator that went up to his exclusive apartment.
It would have been perfect if they hadn't stepped into his apartment and found work waiting for him.
The President standing in the center of Lucan's apartment, looking a terror. He was surrounded by Peacekeepers who were dressed in all black. Lucan hadn't even known that Peacekeepers could be dressed in black! His entourage came up short, taking in the scene and still as they waited for someone else to act.
"Give us the room." The President ordered. The black garbed Peacekepeers cleared out the sycophants and left the President and Head Gamemaker alone, the former of whom indicated that Lucan should take a seat. Nervously, Lucan did so, wishing he could get his hands on some detox drugs to clear his mind for this conversation.
"The 59th Hunger Games were a success, wouldn't you say?" The President asked. It was their first private conversation since before the Hunger Games. The ton was harsh though. Not a great start.
"Do you disagree?" Lucan replied. He hoped his voice didn't sound slurred.
"I asked you, Mr. Hadrianus." The President hit back. Lucan could have sworn he saw a vein throb on his temple. "Last year you were so full of self-doubt and loathing I was merely curious."
"No doubt this year. Everyone loves Casanova!" Lucan replied. "And everyone loved the Games."
"I did not."
"Sorry?" Lucan offered. He instantly realized how flippant his tone was. Yet… Lucan didn't really care that much. He didn't think it was the drink that was making him feel like this either.
The President was furious. "Victor Rothschild is perfectly acceptable. Or would have been if I didn't have to teach him the proper order of things. Now, we have a Victor who may be broken and Hunger Games that were too short."
"Excuse me? Two days is plenty for excitement!"
"Don't attempt to delude me, Mr. Hadrianus. Two days is a generous estimation. Your second Hunger Games lasted under thirty hours."
Lucan shook his head. "And the Capitol loved it! Last year none of the Tributes could find anyone! This year they were all over each other!"
"The Hunger Games aren't supposed to be quick!" The President replied, annoyance in his voice. "They are suppose to be a spectacle that lasts for days if not weeks!"
"Fine. I'll make sure the 60th Games last for a month." Lucan replied, shrugging and leaning back into his chair. "Anything else, sir?"
"You will show respect when speaking to me, Head Gamemaker."
"Just as you'll show respect when speaking to me, Mr. President!" Lucan shot back.
"You are only worth the amount of respect that I say you're worth, Lucan." The President replied, his deep and raised, the closest that the President would come to a shout. But, to Lucan's great shock, President Snow began to cough. It was deep, each cough wet and sounding painful. The President hand went into his coat pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, which he kept coughing into. After a minute, the President stopped coughing and looked at his handkerchief with a raised brow.
There were flecks of blood in it.
The Head Gamemaker couldn't see the blood, but the coughs were enough for him to feel bolder. "I'm worth what the Capitol says I'm worth." Lucan said. The President didn't respond immediately, grunting and trying to clear his throat. Lucan continued on, feeling more and more emboldened. "The 59th Hunger Games were beloved, sir! As is Victor Rothschild who is, unlike Victor Echeberría, fully cooperative with the Capitol and your agenda! But more than that, you know who the Capitol thanks for that?! Me!"
Lucan was on his feet now, towering over the the President who was still hunched over and pretending he didn't need water to clear his throat. "The last few Head Gamemakers were duds. But me? I'm a freaking star! I may be the greatest Head Gamemaker of this generation! I'm the most visible Head Gamemaker in years and everyone knows my name! And if you 'get rid of me' well… don't you think the Capitol will have questions? Now that isn't good for anyone, right?"
The President rose too, clearing his throat by coughing bits of phlegm and blood into the handkerchief before stuffing it back into his pocket. "I saw the plans for the 60th Games arena." The President said, voice strained. "The design is simplistic. Hardly the work of, what did you say, the greatest Head Gamemaker."
"Looks can be deceiving." Lucan replied.
"Indeed." The President said. "Be careful that you don't overestimate your power, Lucan."
"A wise lesson from you, Mr. President."
The President turned on his heel and left, taking his Peacekeepers with him. Lucan entourage entered his apartment once they were gone, looking at him mystified. Lucan was already at the bar, feeling quite secure and happy.
"It's still early, people!" He said, pouring drink after drink. "And we've still got plenty to go! Now, who's thirsty for more?"
Nobody said no, completely under the sway of the Head Gamemaker and his growing aura.
District 1
The last stop on the Victory Tour was home.
District 1 was no where near as wealthy as the Capitol, but the District still knew how to put on a good show – especially for their own. Parades, marching bands, fireworks, and a day of extravagance and decadence all rolled into one greeted Victor Rothschild as the Victory Tour train made its last stop in District 1. The whole District had the day off of work and people knew how to maximize their time.
Cas was eager to get to the evening celebrations too. Vintage and Merlot were already tearing up the District and Cas' friends were waiting for him. He kept it together though for the last official District event with a dinner at the Justice Building to celebrate his victory. Anyone who was anyone was in attendance but Cas could tell people were just as eager to get through it and to the raucous celebrations happening across the District.
Among the guests were the Jacobs, who were treated with a high level of respect and honor owed to them. Cas was foremost amongst them, using his speech to compliment Elegance to excess and whip the crowd up into a frenzy remembering her and her final fight against the Gummy Bear Mutt. Elegance's parents accepted the praise graciously, finding comfort in them and the genuine support of the District. Elegance's sister, Splendor, was a different matter.
When the dinner was over, Splendor was the first one up and ready to leave. Before she could though, she was cut off by Cas, who pulled her aside for a chat.
"I didn't want you to leave without me letting you know how much I respected your sister." Cas told her.
"Thank you, Victor." Splendor replied, words stiff and formal.
"Oh no, come on. For Elegance's sister, Cas is fine."
"Victor is fine with me." Splendor replied, voice still stiff.
Cas raised an eyebrow. "Suit yourself." He told her with a light shrug. It was obvious that Splendor wanted him to leave, but Cas was too intrigued. She was so unlike Elegance. He of course knew Splendor, like most people at the Academy did. The failed Career who had nearly entered the Games only to willingly turn away from them. It mystified Cas that she had – especially as he basked in the glow of a Hunger Games victory.
"Do you need something, Victor?" Splendor asked him.
"Just making sure you're ok." Cas replied.
"I am."
"Oh good. Again, Elegance meant a lot to me and-"
"Elegance meant a lot more to me." Splendor cut off. "Now she'd dead. Died for nothing."
"She didn't die for nothing-" Cas tried, but was cut off just as quickly as last time.
"How did my sister being ripped apart by a candy mutation serve anything other than the Capitol?"
Cas scoffed, understanding her now. "If you want to be all maudlin, go live in the Outliers."
Splendor felt she had made her point now. "Believe your lies if you want, Victor. Elegance sure did. Now, the world is poorer for it."
She left after that, leaving a bemused Cas behind. A rebel in District 1? How surprising, especially from someone like Splendor Jacobs. No point reporting her for it though. She'd get over it eventually.
Or, if she wanted to live in misery, let her.
A week after the Tour, Cas' scheduled calmed down. He wasn't particularly thrilled with that. He was getting antsy without something to do. The other Victors commented to him that the feeling would pass – everyone had their moment in the sun – but it didn't bring much comfort.
That morning, Ambrosio was over and the pair of them were relaxing at Cas' home. Ambrosio had a book from the mansion's expansive library while Cas was skipping through bad Capitol TV. A knock on the front door ended that. Cas got up to open it, realizing he'd have to hire people to do stuff like this for him in the future.
Outside the door was a Capitolite dressed in a silver blue suit and fur coat, with navy blue hair that almost looked black and white specks in it that reminded Cas of frosting. The man brought with him shocking news.
"I'm pleased to inform you that your brother has agreed to transfer title of the vineyards and all assets, including Rothschild home, to you, Victor!"
Cas was startled by the news. "Just like that?"
"Of course! President Snow took over the negotiations. All that is required is your signature on these documents."
Cas signed them quickly, bothered that the President had gone ahead without giving him another chance to correct things. Now he was in the President's debt, how annoying. And Lothario would be even more angry. The chances of repairing things with Lothario were diminishing from a small chance to microscopic.
"Last thing, Victor, I was informed that your brother wishes to speak with you alone." The Capitolite informed him before leaving. Cas' heart raced, as it always did with anything Lothario related. Ambrosio offered to join but Cas told him they could catch up the next day and Ambrosio went home while Cas took a valet to the vineyard.
Upon arrival, Cas felt there was something off. The car pulled up, skidding to a halt on the gravel driveway without any of the staff to greet them. Cas let himself into the mansion, not liking the chilly reception.
A pungent odor hit Cas upon entering. It was faint though, like a cat had defecated somewhere outside its litter box and nobody had found it yet. The heat in the mansion was off too, the air static. Gray light filtered in through windows, dust particles in light. The mansion wasn't cleaned… how? The staff was always better than that.
"Hello?" Cas called out. He heard his voice vibrate off the corridor walls. No reply. He stuck his head into the servant's greeting room off foyer. Empty. Cas went to the kitchen, empty as well. Plates neatly stalked, nothing out of place or seemingly used.
He seemed back into the main part of the home, calling out again. "Lothario?" He cried out. "Stop playing games. I'm here to talk!"
Nobody responded. There didn't seem to be any activity in the house anywhere. Cas raised an eyebrow. Maybe Lothario was out on the terrace? But what was that odor? He followed his nose, which took him to his late father's study.
Cas opened the heavy doors carefully, the odor overwhelming now. He stepped into the room, which looked just as untouched and tidy as all the others. The only thing that stood out was his father's desk chair, which was turned and facing the stain glassed windows. Someone was in it.
"Lothario?" Cas asked, recognizing the hair of the individual. "What's going on?"
In the hours that would follow, Cas would come to ask himself why he had asked something like that. He knew what the smell was. The bodies around the Cornucopia had reeked of it as they baked in the sun after the the Bloodbath. Cas' own body had smelled of that decay between his many surgeries. Yet, his mind played a trick on itself.
So, when Cas spun the chair around and saw Lothario, cold, pale white, blackened veins pronounced underneath his skin, and dead lifeless eyes gazing at him, Cas' mind broke.
"NO!" Cas screamed. He was wrapping Lothario up tightly in his arms. His brother was cold to the touch, his perspiration had dried to his clothing and the stench of rot and death stuck to him. Cas held Lothario tightly, willing his brother to take his warmth and spring back to life.
"Snap out of it!" Cas screamed. His Academy mental conditioning on death was out the window. His brother was dead! 'My brother!' He screamed.
He began crying, screaming and alone. His eyes drifted up to the desk and spotted a mark of responsibility: a single pink carnation in a vase.
Like President Snow had worn on the Victory Tour.
Cas wailed louder, the realization soaked in now. He held Lothario tighter, at fault again. Failing his brother, again. There was no composure to Cas.
Above them, the painting of the brother's father looking down at them. His face was unreadable.
Nothing would ever be right again.
The Peacekeepers were shocked when he returned with Lothario's body.
"Call the funeral home." Cas commanded them. He looked a mess, dried tears and snot on his face and eyes still red, but his voice still carried the tone of command of a Victor. With Lothario's body draped in his arms, Cas carried him back to his home. He took Lothario's body to the guest room, in shock as he laid him on the bed. He took the throw blanket and wrapped Lothario in it, though kept his face visible before taking a seat at the edge of the bed, looking at his brother.
The director of District 1's best funeral home arrived personally to tend to the body. He waited patiently, not wanting to upset the Victor. He and his employees waited for almost half an hour before Cas finally spoke.
"Take him."
They prepared the body with great care, Cas supervising every movement. The director was saying something to him and, realizing that Cas wasn't processing the information, pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote down the funeral information. The funeral director also made some comment about inviting the necessary people to the funeral and departed, leaving Cas alone.
He stood in the foyer for a couple minutes before going back to the guest bedroom where Lothario's body was. Remembering that the body was now gone, Cas went up to this own. He probably reeked of death and needed a shower.
He stripped and entered the shower, turning on the faucets and letting the water rain down on him. Memories played through his mind of him and Lothario, of good days and bad days, of dreams and nightmares, of what he hoped his victory in the Hunger Games would bring for them.
'It was all for nothing.' Cas realized. Death still reeked in his nostrils. The smell must have stuck to his skin. He turned up the water and heat, willing it to wash away the stench. The stench vanished, but he still felt dirty. His skin felt wrong too and the water…
It was too hot.
The water wasn't boiling, he knew boiling, but it was too much to endure. He slammed the faucet off and jumped out of the glossy shower, stumbling over the porcelain bathroom floors that automatically heated for the cold and over to the mirror.
He was naked, laid bare for his eyes to see. The mirror was fogged from the shower and a shaky, steaming hand, Cas wiped away the perspiration to revealed a terrified face. He screamed, expecting to see the peeled face he saw back on the operating table. Instead, he looked fearful and all too human.
But not him… he looked too old. An even in the throes of terror, his features were too attractive. Unnatural. His skin wasn't his. He wasn't Cas, he realized. The tattoos, the too clean skin, the eyes just a smidge too brightly colored. Who was this, starting back at him?
He screamed again, feeling his face. Cheek bones, nose, lips, teeth, it was him. 'It's me! It's me!' Cas told himself.
But it wasn't right.
His eye wasn't real. They had taken it from him. Maybe what he saw… wasn't reality? Who knew what the Capitol could do?! Everyone knew they built insane things in District 3?! Maybe Lothario being dead was all fake! His eye… his freaking eye! It felt normal, but he knew. They removed it on the operating table. They put in something with machine and wires and who knew what else!
He scrambled for the bathroom drawer, pulling out a pair of tweezers. The points were sharp and, steadying himself in the mirror, Cas prepared to take them to his mechanical eye. He stopped just short, looking at himself shaking and crumbling. The tweezers waited, just an inch from his eye, and he screamed, throwing them at the mirror instead. Then he grabbed a vanity mirror and threw it at the larger mirror. Cas kept grabbing objects and flinging them at the mirror, smashing the thing to bits.
He kept going. The mirror in the closet was busted. The one that hung above the drawers, wrecked. The last was the one that dangled above the bed. He stepped on the bed, a heavy book in hand, and aimed for the ceiling mirror. The book went flying and smashed into the mirror, a few cracks appearing. Cas caught the book and threw it again, and again, screaming in delirium until one final, hard throw shattered the entire mirror.
A hail of glass fell from the ceiling and down onto the bed. Cas screamed as the sharp bits came at him, still lucid enough to know to cover himself. Pinpricks of pain erupted across his arms as glass embedded or cut into them, the rest bouncing off the bed around him. When it was over, Cas was shaking, but feeling more stable as he assessed the damage.
One shard of glass had stabbed into his arm, blood pooling around the wound. The glass wasn't deep so he quickly yanked it out, a trail of blood following. He looked at the wound, feeling calmer as the blood flowed. Underneath the cut skin was blood, tissue, and muscle. No monster underneath. Just… him.
Only him. No brother. No father. No family to speak of. 'What did I kill all those Tributes for?' He thought.
He slumped over on the edge of the bed, brush glass aside. He kept staring at the wound, a cut that marred his otherwise perfect flesh, feeling more at ease.
Now what?
Word quickly spread across District 1 that Lothario Rothschild had taken his own life. Apparently, years of a jealously over his brother culminated with his victory in the Games and pushed him over the edge. It was never known where those stories started, but few cared to investigate. The upper class who knew him had written him off years ago, the average District citizen shrugged at it, and those who were bottom rung, members of the Salt Bed, were always happy to besmirch and believe any torrid story about those above them.
Only the Victors knew the truth about President's Snow's hand in it all. And not only the Victors of District 1, but all across Panem. Word was sent to each of them, Lothario offered up as a bloody example. Failure, the inability to deliver to the letter Snow's wishes, would be met with exacting retribution. Even on the most loyal of Victors as Cas was.
Ambrosio had no idea about any of that though as he rushed over to Victor Village. The Peacekeeper guards let him in immediately, even offering him sympathy for his boyfriend's loss. Ambrosio was horrified when they told him that Cas had carried his brother's body back home and he sprinted from the entrance gate to Cas' mansion, letting himself into the home as concern coursed through him.
He found Cas upstairs in his bedroom, putting on a suit like it was just a typical morning. He smiled at Ambrosio as he entered, finishing putting a tie on as he walked over. "Morning." He greeted his boyfriend, giving him a peck on the cheek before continuing to get his tie right.
"Cas, I'm so, so sorry." Ambrosio said. He then looked around the room, surprised to see glass all over the bed. From the bathroom, he could see shattered glass too and blood. "Cas, did you hurt yourself?!"
"Just a cut while shaving." Cas replied with a wink. "I already bandaged it. Does this tie look straight? I've run out of mirrors to use."
"Why are you… why are you dressed up?" Ambrosio asked confused.
Cas looked at him like he had a second head. "I have the event at Indigo Plaza." He told him.
Ambrosio's head spun. "That… they can cancel it!" He responded, only for Cas to shake his head.
"Can't. They expect their Victor there."
"You can roll it a week!" Ambrosio said. He was deeply concerned. What the hell had happened to all the mirrors?
"The District needs me." Cas replied, finishing off the tie with a flourish. "And a Rothschild doesn't shirk from their duty to the District."
"Let me call and cancel it!"
"You will do not such thing." Cas answered firmly. He stepped forward again and kissed Ambrosio on the lips before flicking his nose playfully. "Do you wanna come or swing by later?"
Ambrosio didn't know what to say, but he did agree to come, in case Cas needed something. They set off, picked up by Cas' car, and driven through the District to Indigo Plaza where preparations were already done. There was over a hundred people milling about, gossiping with one another and curious if the event would still be going forward. All were stunned when the Victor's car pulled up and Victor Rothschild stepped out with his boyfriend, all smiles and manners for the hosts of the event.
The event went off without a hitch. Indigo Plaza was the heart of the dye making industry for the District and had a celebration every six months to celebrate the master dyers of the District, hawk wares, and trade talent between the Dye Guilds of District 1. Having a Victor that year had only made the goods more valuable to the Capitol and Cas made sure to state in his speech how happy he was that his Victory contributed to a good year for the dyers of District 1.
Afterwards, members of the guilds came up to Cas. Everyone offered condolences, but also their thanks for his victory in the Games.
"It makes me – all of us – so proud to be part of District 1." A guildsman told him.
The compliments kept coming and Cas accepted them graciously. He could feel Ambrosio's worried eyes on him, expecting him to shatter into a million pieces. His boyfriend had already missed the meltdown and Cas was immensely grateful for that. Nobody would ever know what Lothario's death had done to him. The cut on his arm that he had bandaged the previous evening might leave a scar, but it would be the only reminder of that awful night.
Lothario was gone. His father was gone. He was alone in this world. Ambrosio, Vintage, Excelsa, everyone else was there sure. But family? Loved ones? He was back to square one.
Or so he thought.
A Victor was someone who all the District knew. All of Panem would remember and love. So, in the weeks that followed, Cas booked himself full of District events. The other Victors told him to slow down – he wasn't expected to be everywhere at once, but hey, that just meant more attention and love for him than the others.
The cheers, the applause, the love, he was the Victor they'd all remember.
And if he couldn't have a father, if he couldn't have Lothario, if he couldn't have a family… well at least he'd have the fame and Rothschild name. At least he'd be the example for the District, for Panem, that a Rothschild should aspire to be. He wasn't a nobody, he wasn't that scared four year old alone in the orphanage without a single person to care for him. He was a Victor. The Victor of the 59th Hunger Games. The most beloved Victor in years. And that carried with it responsibility.
As the last Rothschild, it was his job to continue being that model for all in the District. Model citizens didn't whine. They didn't cry over lost family members or lost hopes at reconciliation. They were a statue of excellence for all. Just as his father always wanted him and Lothario to be. Every day, Cas would fulfill that dream.
And that would be the lie Casanova Rothschild would wrap himself in for the rest of his life.
And he'd never be lonely or regretful again.
And, once again, it's done.
As always, this story would not have been possible without the following authors/readers/contributors who spent time to create a Tribute. HUGE thank you to the following: ladyqueerfoot (Casanova), Singular Scissor (Elegance), goldie031 (Pietyr), amadeussss9 (Amaya), Very New To This (Webster), Stargirl94 (Hypatia), Audmirable (Nicola), Paradigm of Writing (Maddie), explosioncat (Joseph), FrostyShadow (Teagan), CrocodileReader431 (Diesel), livinginadream0 (Dallis), dyloccupy (Wolfram), AstralKnight98 (Werifesteria), SakuraDreamerz (Raveni), KitKathy520 (Blakely), EpsilonChix (Darlington), AlexFalTon (Greta), Tales from the Cluttered Desk (Oscar), WordAddict618 (Sierra), illegalcryptid (Calen), n3b (Tillage), Cori Anna (Ash), & owlthewriter (Ophelia).
Thank you to all of the readers. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review, which is so important to all authors. Thank you to all who favorited this story, promising that this story might be seen by others in the future.
Thank you also the the Discord SYOT server. It's been so humbling seeing the love for the story there and all the memes and jokes and theories this story inspired.
Now, the big question: the 60th Hunger Games SYOT… yes, I would like to write it. I have an idea of the story I'd like the tell and I'd love to make this a nice little trilogy. But two things, 1) I need a little break from SYOT writing to recharge & 2) I've yet to have that lightning bolt idea of "AH! This is a great arena idea!". For now, I'm thinking of doing the new SYOT in a month or two. Maybe when the new Hunger Games book comes out.
Regardless, I want to again thank everyone for the love and support. I'm so proud of how this story turned out, and I hope everyone else is as well. Feel free to leave reviews and your final comments and critiques!
Thank you all,
- Dante Alighieri1308
or,
- Ryan