#Scattered Screams

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Scattered Screams Deleted Scenes

Eleanor, consider this a little reward for you to read through after you’ve finished your final exams today! I hope they went well for you!

Now, as I’ve done with most of my longer series in the past, I have compiled a list of all of the ideas I had from way back in November when I started thinking up ideas for Scattered Screams. There are a handful that aren’t organized by what part they would be in as they had no part at all, but the ones that would have been in a part, are labeled with where they belong. Here is my list of deleted scenes!

The earliest version of this story was vastly different. I never let it go public, but I had a full, well-organized Pinterest board for this alternate version. I had just come out of writing Through the Valley and it really shows as things are entirely different right from the start. Originally, the arena was going to be a flooded, overgrown city where muttations ruled over the land and the only way to escape them was to stay in high-rise skyscrapers, crossing from building to building on old, rickety sky bridges and collecting supplies from whatever was left in the buildings. The only solid thing I had written out for this before I scrapped it was the ending, so here is my original ending: 

“Vivien and Royce make it to the end like Katniss and Peeta. After arguing for a while about who they think should go home to their families, Vivien suggests they just wait it out. Royce agrees and they go to sleep in a skyscraper. While Royce sleeps, Vivien goes up to the roof with the plan of jumping off, leaving Royce the winner. The gamemakers make it morning which wakes Royce and when he finds her gone, he runs up to the roof to check if she’s there. He gets there just in time to see her standing by the edge and tries to talk her down, pulling a “you jump, I jump” kind of moment. Instead, they fight for it like Hawkeye and Black Widow and it ends the same way or they both decide to jump and the capitol saves them.”

So, yeah, my intention was to make everyone, including you ✨suffer✨

A few things remained the same from the early version of Scattered Screams - Jade, Erica, and Lexi being a big part of this. In my initial version, they were a team of five and Lexi ended up betraying them to the Careers before getting herself killed. I didn’t think of Riven until I started working on my list of characters for each district and he was supposed to be just a throwaway character for Scattered Screams. Once I started writing him more and liking his character, I threw him into my Christmas stories in order to form a sort of connection with him before killing him off in Scattered Screams. Initially, he was going to die early on or go off on his own in the arena, using the billboards around the city to send messages to not only the Capitol, but also the other tributes. In the end, I liked him a lot and, when I changed the arena to the cruise ship, I went through all that I had written and rewrote it all to fit his personality, his character, and his bond with Vivien.

In one of my early drafts, I wrote out some little ideas for Bentley being the one in the arena, not Royce. It was going to be a volunteering situation where Royce was reaped and Bentley stepped in out of instinct, but I didn’t really care for it as much. Obviously, it didn’t last long, but the idea was there all the same. In the arena, it was going to feel more like a Katniss and Rue situation than a Katniss and Peeta situation. In the end, Vivien would have willingly killed herself to let Bentley go home to his brothers as she is the oldest of her siblings and knows how much it would hurt his brothers if he was to die, especially by her hand.

Almost everything until the arena has remained the same since the get-go, but this was something I wrote really early on that I only partially kept: 

Vivien doesn’t want to get close to anyone because she remembers what happened with Mick and Miles the year before. Despite Viv’s best efforts, Royce weasels his way into Vivien’s little circle. He falls first, she falls harder. In the end, the only reason they’re sticking together is that their teammates asked them to. Royce gets poisoned by Serena and gets really sick, fast. Vivien reluctantly decides to help him because he’s Mick’s friend’s brother. She doesn’t care about him (or so she claims) and wants to help him so her conscious is clear, but ends up falling for him as they work together on a cure.

A couple of things I tried to incorporate early on were some basic themes that call back to other stories or films. A few quotes in the story are lines from Marvel movies, The Last of Us, Harry Potter, or shows I’ve seen clips of on TikTok. Obviously, Romeo and Juliet played a good part in this story, but so did Titanic. Not only does the story take place on a literal cruise ship, but I also used a few direct quotes from the movie. Early on, when they’re on the roof, Royce asks Vivien if she’s scared of being on the roof and she tells him, “I’ll jump if you do.” This is something they call back to a few times in the series and it’s something Jack and Rose say in the movie - “You jump, I jump.” They were devoted to each other early on and it shows. Another thing I was going to do was pull an actual Titanic and sink the ship when they got to the wheelhouse, but it didn’t make sense in the long run and I had to discard it.

Something I never really touched on was the location of the arena, but I did sort of hint at it in the epilogue when Vivien mentions the bridge she saw from the hovercraft being in District 4. That bridge is the Golden Gate Bridge in California, meaning that the arena was somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. I'd say that, since they were close enough to see a crow (once again, another easter egg) that they were most likely near the Farallon Islands. They would be far enough from the mainland, yet close enough to the islands to see the bird.

Now, of course, the bird. Yes, the crow had significance. Crows, like ravens, are considered to be bad omens. One crow signifies death and a flock of crows is called a murder. One crow on the railing + the explosion + Lexi's tracker removal = Riven's death. Yeah... I thought I was so clever with that one, but I figured it out while I was half asleep and I doubt it came across as anything clever haha.

I had to do some extensive research on modern cruise ships for this story as my sole interest has, for the longest time, been on Titanic. The cruise ship I not only modeled the fictional one off of, but also named it after, is Norwegian Cruise Line’s Viva. I changed around some of the deck plans as there wasn’t much for me to work with image-wise, but some things like the Cornucopia and raceway are easy to see from the pictures online. There is a place on board called the Haven. It’s a set of luxury suites that I intended to use as a place for the victors to stay until the ship could reach port and there is a mention of it in part 8, but I never used it. The theatre, slides, casino, various restaurants, and atrium are all real locations on board, but sadly, there is no library. That is something I constructed all on my own.

(Part 8) Vivien’s first days in the arena were going to be spent on her own, looking for the others. This entire part was going to cover the first three days in the arena with Vivien hiding out, avoiding other tributes, gathering supplies, and eventually running into Lexi, who had ventured off on her own to find a bathroom. The two of them would have teamed up to fight off tributes from District 2 before cleaning up in the bathroom, bandaging each other, discussing their plans, and getting to know each other. In the end, Lexi would reunite Vivien with Royce as they had run into each other before and it was going to be a sort of bonding moment to really drive home their alliance/friendship before shit hit the fan.

(Part 9) As Vivien’s reunion with Riven would have been moved to this part, a lot more was going to be added to fill the gap. The reunion itself was going to be a lot longer and more intense, the pair finding each other while Riven was busy fighting of the guy from District 1. The thermal goggles would have had more purpose, the wheelhouse as a whole would have been used more, and I had an actual plan to use both of those tools to take out all of the cameras and electricity on the ship, forcing the Capitol to go searching for the ship which would have been floating aimlessly in the Pacific Ocean. With no rules and no cameras, what would the tributes do? Would they put down their weapons and let things go for the time being or would they simply kill each other off with no remorse while our little trio simply relaxes in the wheelhouse, watching the chaos unfold down below? Honestly, I wasn’t sure of it myself, but I still had to scrap the idea as I would have been dragging things way out and making everything more complicated for myself. The only quote I still have from this idea is a single sentence of Vivien’s thoughts on the wheelhouse, but it’s small, so here you go:

When Royce first showed me the keycard for the wheelhouse, I had been worried about the possibility of District 4 finding it before us since they, of all people, should know how to operate a ship, but with the only one old enough to work on a ship being dead and the other one being a whiny little bitch, I suppose the odds were in our favor after all. 

(Part 9) Before I settled on the wheelhouse exploding due to our trio helping Jade, Lexi, and Erica, it was going to be a sort of safe zone that they would have used a lot more, like I mentioned in the last bullet point. Sadly, once I scrapped most of what I’d written, I never saved it to another folder, so I was left with practically nothing but a short quote. This would have happened early the same morning the wheelhouse exploded in the actual story. Before waking the boys, Vivien would have warned the girls about the Careers coming to kill them and, once the boys were awake, this conversation would have ensued:

“Are you guys thinking of going out for supplies this morning?” I ask as Riven lets out a yawn and digs into his backpack for some food to cook.

“Maybe,” Royce shrugs. “Why, what’s up?”

“Well, if you are, you should probably steer clear of the theatre.”

“Why?” Riven asks.

“The Careers decided to hunt Jade, Erica, and Lexi down and I warned them earlier about it,” I reply with a shrug. “I’m betting that they’re probably playing an intense game of hide and seek right now.”

Royce chuckles, “If the girls know that theatre really well, they could probably kill all of them off in one day.”

“They seemed to think they had it under control,” I tell them. “With any luck, the Careers will be out of the picture sooner rather than later.”

(Part 10) When Riven goes off on his own and Royce and Vivien overhear his conversation, the original conversation and the confrontation they have afterward were going to be very different. I had multiple versions of them, actually. I changed the mystery person multiple times. At first, it was Mick, then it was Carrie, then it was Butchy and Kona, then Mack and Brady, and I went back and forth between trying to pick someone for ages. My first edition of the talk they overheard was going to make it very obvious who he was talking to, so I struggled on that scene for a long time. Then, when I settled on making it a bit of a mystery, I had to get through the aftermath. Initially, it was a big blowout that resulted in the trio going their separate ways for the rest of the day, being brought back together by muttations since the Capitol citizens liked them better together. Then, I wanted it to be a sort of thing Royce and Vivien kept to themselves. The conversation I have for it isn’t very far off of what I ended up using, but it sort of shows how Royce takes Vivien’s statement about Riven not putting them in danger and keeps his desire to interrogate Riven to himself.

Once he adjusts to being benched for the rest of the day, Riven asks, “Did you two finish that book of yours while I was gone?”

I have to laugh, “I doubt either of us could read that fast, Riv.”

“Besides, we got sidetracked,” Royce adds as he begins pulling out the food we can make for dinner. 

I try to send him a look telling him to shut up about what we heard, but it goes unnoticed as Riven asks, “Oh yeah? What happened?”

Royce turns, meeting my gaze for a brief moment before locking eyes with Riven and smirking, “Vivien was too worried about you being alone to focus on the book, so we stopped reading and I tried to talk her out of following you until you told us you were on your way back.”

Riven laughs as he reaches over the back of the couch to nudge my arm, “You were worried about me, huh?”

I force a chuckle out as I roll my eyes his way, “Yeah, like a hangnail I’m afraid to peel.”

Riven laughs and Royce smiles as he shakes his head, returning to the food at hand. I wonder why he didn’t say something. He looked as though he wanted to, yet he held his tongue… Why? Once Riven relaxes back into the couch cushions, I get to work helping Royce cook dinner. I catch his eyes and send him a confused look which he smiles at, whispering, “You told me to trust him, didn’t you?”

“I did,” I mutter, “but I thought-”

“That I was upset and willing to argue?” Royce offers as he places some meat on a plate. I give a hesitant nod and he shakes his head, chuckling, “I trust your judgement. Besides, he’s injured. It makes no sense to stress him out even more.”

I feel a smile tugging at my lips and, just when I’m about to thank him, the couch creaks and Riven pushes himself to sit up, turning to us with his signature grin, “What are you two whispering about?”

Royce takes over checking and flipping the meat while I stand with Riven’s plate of food and cross the space between the grill and Riven, holding his plate out for him to take as I smirk and reply, “Debating how hard it would be to shove you off the side of the ship.”

(Part 10) Instead of the scene with Volt and Elektra, there was going to be a scene where either, during the night, Royce falls asleep on watch duty and is taken as a hostage by Volt and Elektra so they can get something from Riven and Vivien in return or there would’ve been this scene with Serena where she takes something the trio need (medicine or something similar). She leaves them a note on the library door and they agree to meet with her. Vivien has an inkling that Serena will have someone nearby watching to make sure things go as planned, so she climbs onto the Cornucopia to get a better view and takes out the sniper Serena had on standby (probably the guy from District 4 as, when I wrote the idea down, he wasn’t killed off in the first day in the arena). on a rooftop and takes over, shooting someone the second they touch Royce. Royce leads the meeting as he’s the only one Serena listens to, but it’s clear Serena intends on killing Riven and Vivien when she gets the chance. The second Serena makes a grab for Royce, Vivien fires a crossbow bolt into her shoulder, giving Royce and Riven enough time to grab the supplies and run for cover.

(Part 10) Once I got around to figuring out the whole situation with Volt and Elektra, I got a bit carried away with it. The entire section with them was going to be a lot longer and more intense, but I had to cut it as, in the end, it made little sense. At this point, in my notes, they still would have had the thermal goggles and, with the laser tag place being a sort of maze, they would have played cat and mouse with the pair before eventually catching them when Vivien climbs to a higher vantage point and guides them on where to go. Instead of sparing them, there would have been a bit of a struggle before Elektra brought out a knife in her fight against Riven and Vivien would have shot her without hesitation. In return, either Royce or Riven would have taken out Volt and, upon their return to the library, they would have had to suffer through the knowledge that they killed two people. It would have been a lot heavier and the impact would have been pretty intense, especially on the Victory Tour, but I can’t see any of the three willingly killing them as they were already pretty weak and had little going for them. In the end, I took the pacifist route.

(Part 11) Part 11 is probably the one with the most changes to two certain parts and I’m sure you can guess which ones! I’ll start off easy by saying that I wasn’t entirely sure who would die in the end. At first, it was going to be Royce. Then, it was going to be a fake death like in the last story where Kona’s tracker drained. In that case, it would have been Vivien. Then, I’d played with the idea of Riven being the sole victor, but that didn’t work out, so I went with it being Vivien as she is the person telling the story, after all. Ultimately, I went with the decision I felt worked out the best, but I had a lot of things that changed as I went. These are a few of the options I went through

(Option 1) If both Vivien and Royce were to die and Riven were to come out as the victor, it would’ve happened in one of two ways. The first one is a Romeo-and-Juliet-style death. Vivien and Riven would’ve been knocked unconscious in the explosion and, when Royce sees his friend and girlfriend covered in blood, unresponsive, he takes matters into his own hands and kills himself beside them. When she awakens, Vivien sees the aftermath of Royce’s choice and follows him, leaving Riven on his own. Not wanting to let their deaths be in vain, Riven goes on a rampage, killing the others and coming out on top. The other possibility would have been a Titanic ending. The ship sinks and the three of them stick things out together until the end, but they underestimate the power Serena has in the ocean. She drowns Royce and Vivien in the frenzy as Riven swims toward them from where the pull of the sinking ship carried him. In the end, Riven kills Serena and is crowned as victor despite wanting to go out alongside his friends.

(Option 2) In the scenario where Royce dies, it would most likely have been during a reluctant fight between them and the theatre girls. Vivien is heartbroken and wants nothing more than to go out with him, but Riven still has the drive to help her make it out of the arena and back to her family, so they take out the other remaining tributes and try to find a way out together. The ending is similar to the original, with them being rescued after attempting to eat berries together. They go on to become the only siblings to simultaneously win a Hunger Games.

(Option 3) With Vivien as their “camera ghost”, the boys would work to find a way out of the arena, using her as a way to block out footage of them sneaking around. Eventually, they would find a way into the catacombs through the Cornucopia and escape using a submersible that brings them back to shore. Finding themselves on the outskirts of District 4, they work to find their way through the ruins of what had once been cities and towns, eventually making their way back home where everyone presumes they died in the arena.

(Part 11) Riven’s death/”death” was going to result in some far more gruesome scenes and I want to warn you about that before I go into detail. I want to go over how the entire thing almost went down as there are two versions I absolutely loved and was close to writing, but just know, this would be far gorier than what I wrote in the actual story. Also, the detail I used when I had written out for some of these in full made me have to stop in the process and take a break because it was just that intense for me.

(Version 1) After being separated by a fire that was set up by the Gamemakers, Vivien and Royce have to find their way through the ship’s interior to find Riven. Using the thermal goggles, Vivien would have guided them around the fire to a long hallway with multiple branches. Seeing faint traces of footprints on the carpets, they follow the path until it splits - one set of feet heading to the left and another set heading to the right. Deciding they need to find Riven regardless of whoever took the other path, Royce and Vivien split up, each armed with an axe and some other knives as Riven has the more impressive weaponry with him. Vivien trails off to the left path and watches as the traces of heat become more vivid with the goggles. Eventually, she stumbles upon a restaurant of sorts where she comes face to face with something out of her worst nightmare: Riven unconscious with Lexi above him, both of them covered in blood. Seeing nothing but red, Vivien’s grasp on her weapon tightens as she runs toward them swinging her axe into Lexi’s arm and tackling her to the floor before bringing her axe into Lexi’s skull, ending the battle right then and there as a pair of cannons blast. In a panic, Vivien scrambles over to Riven who, according to the Capitol, is dead. She brings him to her in a hug, not caring about the blood now soaking both of them in a shade of thick crimson, holding him close to listen to his heartbeat, but finding none as a relentless stream of tears flow from her. Royce enters the room, finding the aftermath of what went down and tries to coax Vivien away from Riven, to no avail. Vivien screams at Royce when he tries to pull her away after the Gamemakers tell them they need to vacate the area, telling him she won’t leave Riven and muttering things about promises they made. Eventually, after Vivien passes out from exhaustion because of the stress and overwhelming emotions, Royce moves Vivien out to the hallway before going back for their supplies, kneeling beside Riven and promising him that he will take care of Vivien in his stead before leaving to bring Vivien somewhere safe. In this version, he is actually dead.

(Version 2) This version takes place in the same strain as the previous one; they get separated in the same manner and have to find their way back to each other. Instead, who Vivien stumbles upon is Riven and Serena. Serena hears Vivien enter the restaurant just as a cannon, presumably Riven’s, goes off and, once Vivien chucks her axe at Serea, the two engage in a game of cat and mouse, both hiding and hunting the other. In the midst of the fight, Serena grabs a burning stick from the fireplace near the front of the restaurant and throws it at Vivien, who ducks out of the way, allowing it to catch the curtains of a nearby window on fire. The intricately designed, wooden interior of the restaurant begins to burn as fire spreads through it. Eventually, Vivien corners Serena, throwing a wine glass at her as a distraction before driving one of her knives into Serena’s shoulder from behind. The two struggle briefly, Serena pinning Vivien to the edge of a table before reaching over her shoulder with her good arm, grabbing Vivien by the shirt, and throwing her to the floor. Serena examines the damage to her shoulder as a winded Vivien catches Riven’s eye, the barely conscious man guiding her gaze toward the machete he had dropped earlier. Gathering her strength, Vivien crawls forward only a few feet before Serena lands a swift kick to Vivien’s side, sending her crumbling to the floor again. Serena taunts her, telling her that it’s alright to give up and that she can join her friend in the afterlife if she does. Instead of giving in, Vivien pushes herself to move again, making it another few feet before Serena kicks her again. This time, Serena crouches, taking Vivien’s hair in her grasp and lifting her head from the floor before taunting her some more, “Why don’t you try begging? I might just kill you quicker if you do.” When Vivien responds with a simple, hissed, “Fuck you,” Serena pulls Vivien by her hair onto her back before bringing her hands to the brunette’s throat. With the machete within reach, Vivien stretches under a nearby chair for it as Serena chokes her. Her fingers enclose on the thick hilt and Vivien uses what strength she has to swing the blade into the forearm of a shocked Serena. The roles flip as Vivien climbs on top of Serena, swinging Riven’s blade into Serena’s face until a pair of arms come around her waist and pull her off, leaving the blade still lodged in the redhead’s skull. Vivien tries to fight off the person who grabbed her, only to find it was Riven. He holds her for a while until Royce stumbles upon the room, coughing as the fire blankets the room in thick, black smoke. The boys escort Vivien away from the scene and comfort her as she relives the experience. Riven’s picture illuminates the sky that night and it’s then that the trio decide to try to think of ways to escape the arena with Riven as their cover from all of the cameras. As you can tell, this ending is similar to the “camera ghost” ending I mentioned before, but with Riven as the ghost instead of Vivien. There is another version of this exact scenario where Riven is, in fact, dead. In that version, Vivien sees the machete under a chair near his body and it’s Royce who pulls her off. However, I liked the “happy ending” of Riven being alive the way Kona was in Glory and Gore.

(Part 12) This part was originally going to be immensely long and, out of all the parts I had written, this one had the most deleted ideas, by far. I mean, I was going to cover the end of the Games, the crowning ceremony, and the train ride home as well as the months leading up to the Victory Tour, the tour itself, and the aftermath. It would’ve been well over 100 pages by the time I was done, especially if you take into account that the part ended up being 52 pages and the epilogue was 47. Obviously, I have no intention of writing out every scene I deleted, but I have a list of almost everything and where they would’ve gone, and you’re going to get that list in no particular order.

In the arena:

1 - After everyone else in the arena is dead, Royce and Vivien break into the Haven Suite, declaring themselves the victors despite the Capitol not allowing them both to be. During a sleepless night, Vivien leaves the safety of their room and heads for the front of the ship. A worried Royce wakes to find himself alone in their room and searches the back of the ship, screaming for her to not jump as he knows she’s been upset over Riven’s passing. Vivien hears him and runs to him, finding him hauling himself over the railings to jump in after her after seeing a muttation of her in the water, calling for him to join her. The real Vivien talks him down and tells him she was looking at the dolphins at the front of the boat. She walks him back to the front and he tells her he was worried she’d killed himself. Vivien smiles and tells him, “A few days ago, I would’ve. But now, I realize I have something to live for.” Royce watches her curiously before asking, “Oh, yeah? What would that be?” With a roll of her eyes, Vivien brings her arms around his shoulders and replies, “Some idiot who would willingly jump into the middle of the ocean to save me.”

2 - A scene that I almost wrote was the theatre fight between Jade, Erica, Lexi, and the Careers. I never really played out the whole thing as it would’ve been sort of awkward to write it from Vivien’s POV as she’s watching the cameras in the wheelhouse. Regardless, I knew that it was going to end with Jade killing off the other tribute from her district in order to save Erica’s life. In my head, when I was trying to write this out, it was always Jade killing Onyx, her fellow tribute from District 1.

3 - One of my absolute favorite deleted scenes was something I called “Paper Rings” (yes, it was named after the Taylor Swift song lol). This would have been laced through the other parts before coming to a head at the end. It would have started simply enough back around the time they admitted their feelings for each other on the roof with Royce taking a wrapper from a piece of candy on the rooftop and turning it into a ring for Vivien. Once they were together in the library, Vivien would have done the same with a piece of paper from a notepad, this time having written a short message on the outside for him to read. In return, he would take the wrapper from a straw in a restaurant and make her one after the wheelhouse fire. This would have been a sort of back-and-forth between the two of them before culminating in one of two endings. The first would have been a moment in the jewelry shop after everyone else is dead and they decide to give each other rings as a sign of their love being so deep they would rather live on the ship for the rest of their lives than kill each other. The second ending would have been a near-copy of Katniss and Peeta where they both bring out rings in the interview after the Victory Tour - showing that they both wanted to propose to each other. In the end, I decided against it as I felt like it would copy the original source material too closely and I wanted things to feel more realistic in that moment.

4 - At one point, I was teetering on the edge of Riven being fully dead and, around that time, I had the idea of there being a muttation of him that would be connected with Vivien’s tracker, making it so that she is the only person capable of seeing him. This, of course, would have had an immense impact on her and Royce would have had to deal with her simply wandering off, chasing after someone who simply isn’t there. Depending on a variety of variables, this ghost of Riven could have easily convinced her to harm others or herself as she slips further and further into insanity. I was fully prepared to go deep into this psychological torture timeline, but figured it would be too much for me to handle emotionally as it would have dealt with a lot of emotional and mental manipulation, especially seeing as we’re seeing everything from her perspective. I think it would’ve been a bit much.

In the Capitol:

1 - After their time in the arena, I would have prolonged the time Royce and Vivien spent in the Capitol, allowing Carrie and Juliet to take them on little excursions through the city before returning to the Training Center. I know this isn’t accurate to the books, but I was so ready to write out full trips to the apartment Carrie and Juliet share, glittering shopping areas, and fancy restaurants with food so expensive that Royce and Vivien have no clue what to do with. Honestly, I just really wanted to make them feel out of place and a bit more reliant on their stylists who make sure to help them feel at home in their home city.

2 - One of the things I wanted to work with the most in this extended stay in the Capitol was a long scene where Royce and Vivien find out that, to save them from the hordes of crazy Capitol residents trying to buy the chance for a night with either (or both) of them, Carrie and Juliet bought them from the president. This would have been during a visit to the girls’ apartment where they decide to sit the teens down and have an honest conversation, approaching the topic with gentle, yet direct honesty. I think it would have been a moment of realization for them that the victors that had won under the previous president’s reign, had been forced into prostitution or something similar and that they had been saved from a somewhat similar fate by their stylists. This is where I could see Royce and Carrie’s relationship really blossoming as he realizes just how much she must care for not only him, but also Vivien. I feel like that would mean the world to him and allow him to see more of the Carrie that he tries so hard to push away. It also gives a bit of insight into the reason why everyone is so protective of the two of them after they leave the arena. Now, I think this goes without saying, but I highly doubt Juliet’s dad would have kept up the whole prostitution thing that President Snow had. It makes even less sense when you take into account that he seems to treat the victors like the children they are. This is the biggest reason as to why I scrapped it.

3 - In multiple different places, I was planning on making a little nod to Vivien’s culture by utilizing her braids. Now, in Native American culture, braids are important. Across almost all tribes, there is a statement that the three strands represent the mind, body, and soul of the person. In some tribes, people only cut their hair for certain reasons - marriage being one of them. There was going to be a place in the arena where Vivien explains this as a tradition to Royce and they decide to cut a piece of their hair off and tie them together into a knot to signify their love. In another part, Vivien was going to have a thick, six-stranded braid with specific colors woven into each strand to signify someone she loves - her parents, siblings, Mick, Riven, her co-workers, and Royce.

4 - The only other thing I have for this area is a deleted conversation that would have taken place after the meeting with the president, presumably in the car or on the train when they were alone. Keep in mind that, in this segment, I thought Royce was going to be injured for some reason - a broken arm at the most.

“That was so fucking bizarre,” I mutter.

“Which part?” Royce scoffs. “Watching ourselves on television, being smothered to death by sponsors and other rich people, or having a private meeting with the president?”

“All of the above,” I sigh, leaning my head on his shoulder. “I just want to go home, work myself to exhaustion, and act like none of this happened.”

“None of it?”

Lifting my head, I meet Royce’s caramel eyes and shake my head, “Alright, maybe not all of it. Just… most of it.”

Royce’s uninjured arm pulls me close around me as he softly asks, “Still nothing on Riven?”

I shake my head against his shoulder and sigh, “As I said, it’ll be like when Mick died. I’ll go home, work myself to exhaustion, and try to act like everything is normal. The only difference is, Riven won’t be there to carry me home this time.”

Silence clings to the air for a moment before Royce chuckles and I ask him what was funny. “I was going to offer to do it in his stead, but I don’t think that would work out so well.”

I lean back in the embrace with a snort, “Yeah, let’s not try it.”

In the districts:

1 - I had a few plans for this that were scrapped as I realized that I wanted to emphasize the fact that Royce and Vivien hadn’t spent any time together since the end of the Games. Most of these little ideas were simple and would’ve been quick snippets Vivien mentions experiencing as time goes by - figure skating in late December, meeting Miles and Bentley, visiting District 6, the Murphy brothers spending a week in District 3 for Vivien’s birthday, them experiencing a wedding for one of Vivien’s work friends (spawning the idea of them sitting and talking about getting married and discussing their traditions), and, finally, the funerals for Riven and Lotus.

Deleted Quotes (all parts, not in order)

(the president at some point in the epilogue) “They say it’s the things we love most that destroy us. However, I like to think of it in a different way. If you are lucky enough to find someone or something to love more than anything, make sure you treasure them.”

(in training, at some point) “Aren’t you like some damsel in distress?” “I’m a damsel. I’m in distress. I can handle this. Have a nice day.”

(Vivien overhears Royce say this to Erica and Jade while she’s recovering in bed after she killed either Lexi or Serena) “She’s not dangerous, she’s traumatized!”

(a deleted scene where the ship is sinking) “If you try to pull me down, I’ll make sure you go with me.”

(Vivien reluctantly admitting her feelings for Royce after trying so hard to fight them) “You make me feel… you make me feel,” she whispered fiercely into the wind, the cool air carrying her words to Royce’s ears, “and I don’t like it. I want it to stop… But, at the same time, I only want more.”

(Serena to the other Careers) “I don’t need people to help me get ahead in life. In already leagues ahead of all of you.”

(in the theatre battle) “Now, which of you wants to die first?”

(I can’t remember where this came from or where it was going, but it’s here) “We’re all the villains in someone’s story. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the villain in mine.”

(during a deleted argument between Riven and Vivien) “Your moral compass is so fucked up that I’ll be surprised if you can find your way back to the library.”

(Vivien, after Riven dies) “My good side died with him, Royce. How do you expect me to bring her back?”

(not sure where this was or who said it, but it was a quote from Markiplier that I heard on TikTok and wanted to incorporate at some point) “What if I didn’t run? What if I’m not a coward? What if I want them to kill me? What if I want them to try?”

(this conversation would have been at the beginning of part 12 and would have been while Vivien was in the medical center) 

“She slit his wrists and was choking him when I found them. If I hadn’t grabbed Riven’s machete, I would’ve been next,” Vivien admits. Royce's grip tightens on her hand and she sends him a small grin. Turning toward Erica and Jade, Vivien breathes, “You didn’t see the look in her eyes.”

Erica shakes her head, “From the very beginning, I didn’t trust Lexi. There was just something about her that set off all the alarms in my head. Looking back on it now, I wonder if she had a list of people she wanted dead.”

Jade takes Erica’s hand and they meet gazes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You trusted her,” Erica sighs. “To be fair, I was still wary of you both until we fought off the Careers, but you trusted us both so I thought I’d get over it as more time went on. I guess I should’ve trusted my instincts.”

(finally, this conversation is in part 12, but this is the original version)

“The way I see it, we’ve got two options.” 

“We do?” 

Royce nods, “Option one, we take the easy way out. It’s quick and painless.” He holds out the berries and sighs, “I’m not a big fan of option one.” 

“Me neither,” Vivien breathes. “Option two?” 

“We fight.” 

“Fight for what?” 

Royce smiles as stares out at the vast ocean surrounding them, “There are a million ways we could’ve died before today and a million ways we could die before tomorrow… but I say we fight. We fight for every second that we get to spend with each other. Whether it’s two minutes or two days… we don’t give that up. I don’t want to give that up. My vote? Let’s just wait it out. You know, we can be all poetic and just live out our lives together on this ship.”

Hesitantly, Vivien mutters, “What’s option three? What’s the option to get us both out of here so we can live in the districts together and grow old together?”

Turning to meet Vivien’s eyes, Royce takes her hand and softly says, “I’m sorry.”

Opening Quotes

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

“Romeo was full of shit and Juliet fell for it, but I am not an idiot.”

“I can make it quick or I can make it so much worse.”

“They should be terrified of you.”

“History repeats itself on an endless loop of meaningless deaths and destruction.”

“If, for some reason, I got a second chance at that moment, I would do it all over again.”

“If I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself.”

“I was supposed to either die with him or survive with him. She didn’t deserve to make that choice for me.”

“Once upon a time, I had somebody that I cared about and, in this world, that sort of shit's good for one thing: getting you killed.”

“Haven’t I given enough?”

“Don’t blame me for what you made me do.”

“A woman’s heart is a deep ocean full of secrets.”

“Don't you do that, don't say your goodbyes. Not yet, do you understand me?”

"I would take a bullet for you just to show my love, only to find out you are the one holding the gun."

“Can you be in denial of your own death?” (You’ll see where this one would’ve been in a minute 😜)

(Epilogue) Perhaps this is the part that changed the most overall and I’m sure you can understand why. So many things changed over the course of the month it took me to write the epilogue. I mean, I went from writing out everything from another person’s perspective to changing my mind after 13 pages - probably the biggest change I’ve ever made to something like this. I had most of the original plot written out on paper and I kept the original 13 pages. Although I know that this is already the longest deleted scene post I've made this far, I figured I would use this spot to let you read through the 13 pages of the original epilogue as well as 2 scenes I felt needed to be written out to make everything fall together nicely. 

Working in District 3 labs, you don’t experience many dangers. The occasional fire, tech malfunction, and, sure, you may have to dodge a stray keyboard or two that has been thrown in a rage by one of your coworkers, but most of that is fairly harmless. The only real threat to a person’s life is when the Hunger Games rolls around with its annual bullshit and that only happens until the Capitol decides you’re too old to be killed off. My last year of reaping was supposed to be easy. I live by myself and work almost every day so I have no need for tessera and have fewer entries and less of a chance of being sent into the arena. Then, the night before the reaping, I get a knock on my door from none other than my lab’s boss, Brady Birch.

He sits with me on the porch for quite some time, telling me about how he and his wife have been worried that the Capitol will take their daughter’s escape from the arena out on someone he knows I care deeply for: Vivien O’Brian. Though they aren’t related by blood, Vivien is like a daughter to Brady and his wife, Mack, and is like a sister to their daughter, Makana. I understand their frustration better than most as I had taken Vivien in like she was my family the day I met her. She walked into our lab as this pipsqueak of a child, scared of the big bad teenagers who towered over her at the time, but that soon dissipated and was replaced with the girl I now call Pip; the headstrong, sarcastic fifteen-year-old who matches my colorful remarks with ones of her own, jab for jab. She handles anything thrown her way with logical ease and grace, though we all seem to have our doubts that she would handle the Hunger Games well. 

Near the end of our conversation, Brady asks if I can think of anyone who would be willing to take the place of whoever is reaped so that Vivien wouldn’t have to compete and, while my answer is affirmative, I doubt he realizes my meaning. He asks that I talk with whoever it is and see if they would be willing, and I say that I will, but once he leaves, I simply stay home, making myself something to eat and waiting out the night. When the reaping comes and Vivien is reaped, nobody volunteers. I find Brady’s eyes in the crowd once the female tribute can no longer be replaced and the look of betrayal in them is strong, but it doesn’t last long. 

Vivien’s younger brother - a kid named Oliver that had come to our lab more than once to bring Vivien the lunch she had forgotten - is reaped as the male tribute and, as I push him toward the stage, I tell him, “Just breathe, kid. I’ll take your place when I can.” He seems a hair less tense, almost as though he doesn’t fully believe my words, but takes to the stage all the same. As promised, I volunteer in his place and watch as a vivid array of emotions flash across Vivien’s face. We listen to the mayor drone on about things nobody cares about anymore before we’re ushered away and split up. I have no biological family to visit me, but my friends from work come by and it feels just like family. Vivien’s family is the next group to stop by and Oliver thanks me repeatedly for filling his spot. Though I know they’ll all be hoping for Vivien’s victory, I make sure to show them that I’m grateful for their visit before they’re pulled away by Peacekeepers.

Once visitation is over, we’re brought to the train station and I make sure to make Vivien laugh for the cameras that await our arrival. Once we’re allowed to explore the train, I spend a while in my room by myself, sorting through the thoughts that have filled my head for the last, well, I don’t even know how long. Death is inevitable for everyone on the planet, however, it also happens to be the one thing I fear most. I suppose it is for Vivien, though. As long as she wins the Hunger Games, I don’t care if I end up dead by the end of it. Of course, I doubt she will want to hear that, but the truth still stands all the same.

It isn’t long before Mack and Brady come to visit me, telling me that they’ll work with the mentors from District 6 to figure out a way to get us out of the arena like they did last year for Mick and her friend. I tell them that I’ll do whatever they need me to for us to get out, but that if their plan fails, I’d be willing to sacrifice myself to help Vivien. They tell me that it wouldn’t be necessary, but I can tell that they both will take it into consideration.

They lead me out to the dining compartment and Vivien joins us after a while. The meal passes quickly and we sit to watch the other reapings. I find the other tributes disappointing, but I make note of what few attributes each of them displays. Most of my time is spent gauging Vivien’s reactions and I can’t help but smirk as she takes a particular interest in the boy from District 6. I’m not exactly surprised when she suggests teaming up with him and shrug off her offer by saying the choice is up to her. After all, I’ve sworn to protect her already, who she chooses to befriend has little to do with me. Vivien, on the other hand, seems perturbed by my nonchalance and corners me in the hallway between our rooms, questioning my behavior. I make the effort to appear as relaxed as possible, even going so far as to flick her concerns away by stating that my actions are just what family does for each other.

I hardly get any sleep that night as I spend most of my time worrying about my surrogate sister in the next room, but the morning comes faster than I anticipated and I find that I wasn’t the only one to suffer through a sleepless night on the train. Vivien’s actions are robotic and she appears to be in a daze as she eats breakfast, only picking up her fork when I lightly kick her shin to remind her. Once Mack decides to end Vivien’s mindless eating, I take her by the hand and bring her with me to the room we watched the other reapings in, bringing an arm around her to show her that I’m there for her if she needs me. I start off the conversation easily, telling her that I know we’re both worried about the Games, but that I’m determined to make sure we both stay alive for as long as possible.

“If it comes down to the two of us as the last tributes standing,” I begin, “I’ll find a way to die so that you won’t kill me.”

For the first time since I began speaking, Vivien’s grip on my hand tightens and she mutters, “If it comes to the two of us, The Capitol will just have to take both of us as the victors, Riv. I’m not going to let you go that easily.”

I try to smile at her comment, but we both must know that the Hunger Games ending with two victors has never happened before and that, after last year, the Gamemakers will make that practically impossible. I’m incapable of telling her anything more as our escort and mentors enter the room, filling us in on all that will happen once we arrive in the Capitol. Vivien clings to my hand until we’re separated in the Remake Center and brought to different rooms. The prep team that I don’t bother paying much attention to, works on me for a few hours, scrubbing me clean of anything they would deem ‘imperfect’ before ditching me so that I have time with my stylist, a rainbow-haired person named Topaz. 

By the time I leave my room, Vivien is standing with the boy from District 6, a smile on her face as the boy tells her something. I watch fondly for a while before being ushered toward the elevator, but I make sure to tease Vivien about her little encounter at the first chance I get. Once we arrive at the giant stables where they keep all of the horses for the parade, I try to keep Vivien distracted with the horses while I scope out the competition, but the results of my efforts seem to be the reverse of my intentions. The girl from District 1 keeps an eye on the two of us while the other Careers chatter about some nonsense nearby and I catch her nod our way before returning her attention to the animal before her. Typically, Careers don’t care much for the people outside of their circle, but this one just might have potential. Time will tell, I suppose.

Thankfully, Vivien finds the large animals just as enthralling as I do and takes to petting them with me, teasing me about the horses in return for my remark in the elevator. However, my response seems to trigger something in her as I say, “I’ve never seen one so well-trained. The ones I’ve seen back home are wild and don’t normally go up to people, but these are so relaxed and well-behaved.”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch Vivien’s emerald eyes dim as she glances between me and the horse, pain flooding her eyes as her eyebrows scrunch together. She takes in a deep breath and fights her emotions down before feeding one of the horses an apple, forcing a smile, and saying, “When we get home, we’ll get you a proper horse.” 

I turn to her and, despite her no longer looking my way, I can tell there are a million thoughts and emotions tugging at her. She doesn’t need me to tell her that only one of us will be making it home. She doesn’t need me to tell her to be realistic and focus on what could possibly happen. She needs me to be there for her, even if that means allowing her to live in her fantasy world for at least a moment. So, with a sigh, I bring an arm around Vivien’s shoulders and pull her to me, resting my head on hers before telling her, “We’ll get two horses.” I can almost feel the confusion radiating from her as she slowly allows her head to rest against my chest. “One for you and one for me. They’ll have plenty of space to run around in Victor’s Village.”

The smile she gives me lets me know that I made the right choice and I press a kiss to her forehead before squeezing her to my side once more and letting her go. The boy from 6 makes an appearance once again and the three of us converse until it’s time to get into the chariots. A smirk appears on my face as I bring out the teasing older brother act, making sure there is a smile on Vivien’s face before our chariots begin to move into the city. Our stylists turn on our glowing outfits and I have to laugh as Vivien’s hair lights up like one of the computers back home, a luminous rainbow of colors that fits her personality all too well. Vivien catches a glimpse of herself in the reflective plastic I’ve been made to wear just as the chariot begins to move and I’m quick to latch onto her so that she doesn’t fall as we’re brought throughout the city.

I try not to let my true feelings about the Games show as we’re shown off to all of the Capitol’s wealthiest sponsors, the urge to scream to the rooftops about everything is covered behind a smile as I raise the hand I’ve latched with Vivien into the air. Before I know it, we’re being brought into the Training Center and the horses come to a stop. The adrenaline in my veins wears off quickly as the glowing brunette beside me collides with the floor of the chariot. Vivien rattles off some quick excuse that, for her sake, I allow as I help her to her feet, bringing an arm around her to keep her steady as we board the elevator and ride up to our floor. She leans against me in a hug as we rise high above the Capitol and, once we arrive on our floor, I bring my arms around her, lift her off of the ground, and chant our district number in the hopes that it will relieve some of the tension she’s under.

Once we’re changed out of our parade costumes and free of the Capitol’s signature glitter and glamour, I meet up with Vivien in the hallway between our rooms and we head to the dining room together. Our brainless escort comes in before the meal is served, shrieking about losing the tributes before realizing that we’re sitting at the table with our mentors, waiting for the food to arrive. After the meal is done, we’re made to watch the parade and a sense of pride floods my veins as the commentators and spectators alike shower us in praises we don’t deserve. The recap ends and I invite Vivien to the rooftop before ducking into my room to change into something warmer. Before I can make my way to the door, our escort tells me that I should get some sleep before training and I tell her I need some fresh air, which she accepts and soon disappears into her room. I make my way to the rooftop only to find Vivien and the boy from District 6 throwing something at the forcefield around the building and catching it in their mouths while laughing and talking about things I can’t hear over the wind. 

With a smile, I disappear back inside the building and bump into a small blonde girl who eyes me curiously. We stand on the landing, watching each other in silence almost as though we’re investigating the other person. Then, with a direct, matter-of-fact tone, the girl says, “You’re the big guy from Three, right? Riven?”

I’ve seen this child before and I know that I have, but it’s hard to picture where. Of all of the people I saw in the other reapings and the parade, I know she isn’t a tribute and she’s certainly too comfortably dressed to be a Capitol escort, narrowing down the options to one. She must be a mentor of some sort. “I am,” I reply. 

She looks me up and down before holding a hand out for me to shake and saying, “I’m Kona, District Six. My tribute likes your friend.”

This must be the mentor girl who won last year. “Are you talking about Vivien?” I ask, latching onto her hand and shaking it before letting it drop.

Kona nods, rolling her eyes, “That’s all Royce has talked about since we watched the reapings on the train.”

A chuckle escapes me before I can even think of stopping it, “I could say the same about Viv.”

Mischief gleams in the girl’s pale eyes as she smirks, “Does she know he likes her?”

“Does he know that she likes him?” I offer in response.

Kona’s smile spreads as she asks, “Are they on the roof?”

I give her a nod and watch her pass me on her way up the next flight of stairs before calling out to her, “Do you always meddle in people’s personal lives?”

Kona peers over the metal bar with a smile and proudly claims, “I only meddle when I’m right and, so far, I’ve always been right.”

With a shrug and a shake of my head, I sigh, “Well, good luck, then.”

“Thanks!” she chirps before bounding her way up to the rooftop.

It’s a while before I hear Vivien arriving back in our apartment, but she doesn’t question my lack of appearance until the next morning before training. Until training begins, I stand near Royce and Vivien, sending glares at anyone who so much as glances their way. Royce asks me if I’d be willing to form an alliance with him, which I do, and Vivien sends me a glare when I bring up how much she spoke about Royce that morning before I allow them to go off and do as they please. Our first day of training is spent separated and, while I do keep an eye on the younger pair, I mostly keep to myself. My alone time is interrupted by the girls from Districts 1 and 7, who I later find out are named Jade and Lexi. Jade’s emerald hair glitters in the fluorescent lights above us while the other girl’s curls have been pulled back into a makeshift bun.

They aren’t speaking directly to me, but I’m close enough to hear their conversation as the curly-haired one claims that she would be dead soon anyway. When the green-haired girl asks her what she means, Lexi replies with, “You can’t tell anyone, but I have this medical issue that I can’t afford the treatment for. I’ll be dead within a year, if that. Winning the Hunger Games isn’t going to do me much good.”

Jade takes a breath and says, “Well, why don’t you join us, then? We can get you far in the Games so that it doesn’t hurt your friends or family back home and you can still go out when you feel the time is right.”

Lexi takes in a slow, deep breath and sighs, “Can I at least have until lunch to think on it?”

“Of course, take all the time you need,” Jade says. “You’ll know where to find me.” 

As Jade scurries off and leaves Lexi alone to throw axes at training dummies, I leave the area to get a better view of Vivien and Royce at a different station. Lunch comes and I find that the curly-haired Lexi has joined Jade and a blue-haired girl at their lunch table. If the three of them have formed a group outside of the Careers as I have with Vivien and Royce, that could make them more dangerous. Especially if you take into consideration that one of them is ready to die anyway. Still, when they approach us on the roof that night, I can’t help but feel overprotective of my little group, pulling them away from the girls until we get the chance to think over their proposition of another alliance.

Once we return to our apartment for the night, I speak with our mentors about the situation and they talk me through how they see things working out. In the end, they advise me that an alliance with them could be beneficial, but to be wary of them just in case something happens between the girls and their rage turns on us. The conversation switches on a dime as Vivien joins us and, once she retires for the night, they bring up the idea of getting us out of the arena safely, telling me what they did the year before to help their daughter and her friend from District 6 out. They give me the idea of finding a way to drain our trackers, giving the Capitol the impression that we had died, but tell me that, if that doesn’t work, cutting out our trackers might be the only option we have of making it out as a trio. By the end of the conversation, I’m fighting to keep my hands from shaking and they tell me that it’s only a suggestion if it comes down to the three of us, but that it most likely won’t be necessary. After talking me down from my mild panic, they shoo me off to bed and tell me to try to get as much rest as possible. The next morning, Vivien asks them about the girls and what to do about them and they tell her something similar to what they had told me, which we relay to Royce once we arrive in the training rooms. Once the girls arrive, we tell them that we accept their offer and they seem genuinely pleased with the idea.

The three of us train together at first before splitting off to impress the Gamemakers, but I use my free time to get to know our new allies. The first person on my list is the one who has already admitted defeat - Lexi. Our conversation is short, but I glean a lot from it. When I press her about the disease she claims to have, she admits it and claims that she wants to go down on her own terms. I tell her that, if I can think of a way to help her in the arena, I will, and she thanks me for it, but dismisses me fairly quickly before walking off. Erica is next and, while she is very energetic and loud about her interest in the weapons available to us, she mostly talks of her interest in Jade, the girl from District 1. Her eyes are glued to the green-haired girl and she takes little interest in my conversation, but comments that she’s glad to be on our side all the same. Jade is every bit the ringleader of the group; direct, calm, and organized. She’s thorough in everything she does and never misses a single target when I join her at the archery station. Whilst even I will admit she is deadly, she has a calm, collected manner about her that gives me the impression she couldn’t be bothered to care much about the Hunger Games at all.

That night, we join District 6 on the rooftop for a while and I spend some of my time talking with Vivien, reassuring her that, regardless of what she does in her private session with the Gamemakers, she’ll be fine. Eventually, the girl I met on the stairs tells me that Mack wants to see me, and I leave Vivien in her care as I make my way over to where my mentors and Vivien’s stylist are standing. Before I can say a word, the blonde girl holds out a hand and introduces herself as Juliet, Vivien’s stylist and the president’s daughter. The three of them bring me away from the others enough that they wouldn’t be able to hear our conversation before Brady hands us each a small container. Inside is a simple, black watch with two dials - one red and one blue - on one side and a small, almost unnoticeable hole on the other.

“A watch?” I wonder aloud.

“Why a watch?” Juliet asks.

Mack smiles, “We’ve talked about ways to help these three get out of the arena, right?”

Juliet nods and I have to wonder why the president’s daughter would be willing to help a few tributes escape. She sighs, “If getting them out of the arena will help push my dad to stop the Hunger Games altogether, I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

As though he’s answering my unasked question, Brady explains, “Last year, Juliet’s tribute and boyfriend, Xander, was killed in the arena, furthering her interest in ending the Games.”

Juliet gives a sharp nod and says, “When I reached out to Carrie, she suggested I take District Three this year so that our districts could work together to end this nonsense.”

“So these will help us get out of the arena?” I ask, holding up my watch. My mentors nod. “How?”

They explain how the watch works as a communication device. The red and blue dials work as a transmitter and receiver respectively, allowing us to talk with each other while I’m in the arena. Juliet’s watch fits more with her Capitol style, a simple, silver and crimson watch so small I wonder if she can even read the time on it, but it suits her all the same. As long as Juliet can give me updates from the outside and I can send her messages asking for specific things in the arena, it doesn’t matter. Mack explains that she and Brady won’t be able to use them as there will be a lot of eyes on them, but since Juliet is a stylist, she won’t have to worry as much. We test them out briefly when Juliet brings Mack to the edge of the roof to show her the mansion she grew up in and Brady seems to puff up proudly as we prove that his invention works. Once they return, Brady explains that they work like a walkie-talkie, only allowing us to hear each other when we press the blue dial. Mack explains that, while I’m in the arena, it might be a good idea to share the watch with Vivien or Royce during their turns to keep watch if I want to avoid suspicion and I have to agree. When Juliet questions why we shouldn’t tell the kids about the watch being a communication device, Brady explains that, when we escape the arena, we will most likely be taken out by a hovercraft and brought back to the Capitol, meaning that we would be questioned by the people in charge and they need our reactions to be as genuine as possible.

I spend most of the rest of my evening speaking with Juliet, trying to come up with a plan for the Games. She explains that she has the ability to come and go from the president’s mansion as she pleases, collecting information from right under their noses. I have to give Juliet credit, she’s smarter than she looks. She explains that, if I can get the three of us through the bloodbath and close to the top ten, making it out of the arena will be easy, but that, if we make it too close to the end, things will only be more complicated. If we’re close to the end, the cameras will be on us all hours of the day, making it nearly impossible for us to find a way to drain our trackers or cut them out without someone else there to take the fall and cut them out for us. An idea forms as I lie in bed that night and I wonder if I could entrust one of the other tributes to do the deed if it comes down to it. There’s only one person I could think of who would be willing to put their life on the line for us, but I would have to wait until training to ask.

In the morning, I make my way toward the dining room only to find that Vivien is nowhere to be found. Assuming she must still be in her room, I find myself at her door, knocking before simply entering and sitting by her side as she stares up at the ceiling. Her face lacks its normal color and her irises are rimmed with red, making me wonder if she had been crying. Taking a deep breath, her gaze turns to me and she softly claims, “It’s a cruise ship.”

My eyebrow raises and I have to ask, “What is?”

“The arena,” she whispers, swallowing thickly before adding, “It’s going to be a cruise ship.”

When I ask her how she knows, her answer is simple - her stylist. It makes sense that her stylist would know given she is the president’s daughter, but I can’t see how that would make Vivien upset. Maybe the anxiety of the day kept her awake. She is the type to overthink everything while I try to keep things simple. I could understand her fears winning over. Trying to keep her in a good state of mind, I nod and offer, “I guess it’s a good thing we swim in the lake back home.”

Vivien hums and I try to suggest breakfast, but she declines as the impending dread of our private sessions and the Hunger Games themselves loom over our heads. Eventually, I manage to coax her into eating something before training and, while her plate of scrambled eggs and toast isn’t much compared to her usual platefuls of everything on the table, I’m at least grateful she has something in her system. Her trembling hand finds a home in mine until we begin the morning training session and she glues herself to Royce while I work on conversing with my target for the morning - Lexi Warren. I manage to corner her by the axe-throwing station and, for once, she doesn’t seem bothered by my presence.

“So, let me get this straight,” she begins quietly, readying another axe to be thrown, “You want me to help you, Vivien, and that other boy out of the arena if we make it close to the end of the Games?” I nod and she scoffs a laugh, shaking her head as she reels back her arm, “What makes you think I’d do such a thing?”

“I see the way you look at her.” For the first time since I stepped up to the station, Lexi’s weapon lodges in the wall beside her target, missing its intended mark as she freezes. Opposingly, my axe wedges deep into the center of the target as I choose to continue, “You watch her during lunch, you never stray too far from whatever station she’s at, and for some reason, you managed to convince the other girls to trust us, trust her. Whether you notice it or not, you want Vivien alive as much as I do, but for a completely different reason.”

Lexi’s eyes flit between our targets as the information settles in before taking in a sharp breath and calmly asking, “And if I choose to only save her in that scenario?”

A smirk settles on my face, but I force it away as I state, “She would never forgive you. I helped her through the loss of her sister last year and assumed the role of her older brother during that time. On top of that, I know I’m not the only one who can see how she looks at Royce. If you were to cut out her tracker and become the victor, leaving the two of us to die in the arena, she would be out for your blood.”

Lexi’s gaze turns to me and I feel her examine my expression before slowly turning her gaze to where Royce and Vivien have begun shooting arrows at targets. I follow her gaze and watch as Vivien adjusts Royce’s hold on his weapon before allowing him to shoot and, as the arrow drives deep into the bull’s eye, we watch as she excitedly bounces, cheering Royce on as he beams at her. From the corner of my eye, I watch as Lexi’s shoulders sink and a reluctant grin crosses her features. “Just cut out the trackers and wait for the cannons?”

I give a sharp nod, “That’s it.”

With a hum, Lexi nods, “Alright. Just tell me when.”

She doesn’t give me the chance to respond as she moves away from her favorite station and joins Erica at the ropes course. Lexi’s quick agreement gives me pause, but I try to accept it as an honest statement for the time being. Almost hesitantly, I cross the room and spend the rest of my morning following Vivien and Royce around to different stations, helping them when they ask for it, and learning which skills they particularly excel at before lunch is called and we’re told where to sit. Vivien’s grip on my hand is unrelenting, though I don’t voice my discomfort as she scans the room, sparing glimpses of Royce when she finds the chance. More than once, I find Lexi’s eyes on Vivien and she meets my gaze, giving me a small, barely noticeable nod before turning away. All too soon, I’m summoned from the room and I have to give Vivien a smile of reassurance before she allows me to take my hand back from her grasp.

Mack and Brady instructed me to think like a Career for my private sessions so that I'll be scored high enough to gain some favor, but I doubt my performance is what they had in mind. As soon as I’m allowed to, I throw weights around, slice open training dummies, and show off the skills I’ve worked on the hardest over the last few days to get the Gamemakers’ attention. Then, once I have it, I make a statement that’s all my own. A statement of revenge that they’ll have to work hard to cover. The camouflage station is my last stop and I take what bloody, berry juice they’ve left out to write my message on the concrete floor, claiming my performance in the arena will be for Mick and Miles, mine and Vivien’s friend and Royce’s brother. The Gamemakers must know that my friendship with Royce is strong enough for me to include the name of someone who isn’t from my district and they practically rush me out of the room, hastily thanking me for my time before ordering some Avoxes to clean the mess I’ve made. It isn’t until Vivien comes back upstairs that I find out they simply covered my mess with a sparring mat.

Vivien regales us with her tale of impaling the Gamemakers’ wine bottle, which seems to surprise our mentors, but they explain that the only thing the Gamemakers can do to her now is make her time in the arena more difficult. I don’t doubt that they’ll try to make things harder for Vivien, but with me - and presumably Royce - by her side, it would be immensely difficult for them to target her on her own. After a while, we’re told to wash up before dinner and I change into something more comfortable before returning to the living room to talk with my mentors. When I bring up the topic of getting Lexi to cut the trackers out if we need her to, they seem hesitant, but come to accept that as an option if we require it. By the time the stylists arrive, it’s nearly time for our scores to be revealed, so Juliet saunters off down the hall to fetch Vivien while Mack and Brady tell me to entrust my watch to my stylist, Topaz. My hesitance to do so is met with a short explanation that Topaz was Mick’s stylist in her Games and was someone I could trust to keep care of the watch until we were in the catacombs. Eventually, I pull the watch from my hoodie and pass it over before Vivien comes out and the food is served.

Once the food is done, we gather on the couch in the living area and wait for our scores to be announced. Each of the tributes receives a long-winded spiel about them before their scores are announced and, for the first time in a long time, three of the first four Careers end up with meager scores compared to normal years. By the time my spot on the screen arrives, my leg is bouncing and the rising panic I’d been trying so desperately to shove aside makes itself present. Vivien takes my hand in hers and, as my score is revealed, she brings me into a tight squeeze that eases the tension from me. Her score of nine is just one point below mine and, although we’re all very excited about it, I notice Vivien taking a moment away from the excitement to watch Royce’s identical score flash across the screen. 

We bring the party up to the roof after everything is over and District 6 joins us after a while. Royce and Vivien are soon by each other’s side and I join them in case Vivien needs a quick escape from her own, babbled words. As the stylists join our little trio, I notice every glance Vivien and Royce take, watching the other with soft smiles the other will never know existed. Celebratory drinks are handed out and, once I start a roof-wide chant of our district numbers, I make my way behind the two lovebirds and make them hold hands before raising them into the air. The rest of the time we spend on the roof, Vivien is latched to Royce’s side and vice versa, but there’s a shimmer of something in her eyes when Royce has to leave that makes me wonder if she’s come to terms with her feelings for him. On the way back to our floor, I tease her about the situation so that nobody can hear and take joy in watching her face burn a shade of tomato. I duck off to my room to evade Vivien’s ire and wait until morning to ask her about how things went with Royce.

In the morning, I find Vivien still fast asleep and ask her how she slept once I’ve woken her. My intention of teasing her some more evaporates as she pleads for me not to before she has to spend the rest of the day with Royce, acting as though they’re both in love. Though I can see that Royce cares for Vivien the same way she cares for him, I don’t push the topic any further and we eventually settle next to each other. She relaxes against the headboard of her bed and I wonder how she could be so relaxed with everything else going on around us. With the Hunger Games looming just ahead of us and the weight of everything I know resting on my shoulders, I can’t bring myself to the same state of calm that Vivien can. If she knew what I was planning, if she knew how much weighed on our every move in the arena and how many eyes would be on us for the rest of our lives once we got out, would she be so trusting? Would her trust in me go out the window? Would she still come to me for help or for comfort the way she has in the past?

My usual confidence is long gone and, as I spare a glimpse of Vivien’s relaxed grin, I ask, “You know I care about you, right, Pip?”

“Of course, Riv.” Vivien’s gentle smile and how quickly she responds feel like a punch to the gut. Her trust in me is so strong; will it still be that way once everything is said and done? “You know I care about you too, right?”

Wrapping my mind around her question is easy as I knew the answer long before she asked. “I do.” A sighed chuckle falls from me as I shake my head slightly and add, “Far more than I deserve most of the time.”

Vivien is quick to shake her head, an adamant tone in her voice as she presses, “That’s not true. We’re family and family loves without it needing to be earned or deserved.”

Her confusion is evident underneath the stubborn smile that never seems to disappear and I feel a small grin tug at my lips as I breathe, “Good.”

Although Vivien’s confusion takes over, she leans her head against my shoulder and softly asks, “What brought that on?”

I rest my head against hers and try to relax against the headboard as I squeeze the hand she’s tucked into mine, “Just making sure.”

Our moment of peace is broken as our day begins and Vivien leaves to take a shower while I find my way to the dining room where our mentors are talking. When I join them, they fill me in on how many sponsors have already spoken to them about wanting to help us. They claim that, after last year, people want to help the previously reaped tributes win this year and that, with all the money we should get, they should have no problem sending us gifts when we ask for them. When Juliet joins the conversation, the talk becomes more serious and we discuss the plan of getting us out of the arena and what will happen once we’re out.

Juliet claims that all dead tributes are brought back to the Training Center to be cleaned, get their tracker removed, and be made to look good until the Games end. After the tribute looks alright, the mentors of the tribute will be sent in to make confirmation that the tribute is the same one they sent into the arena so that the families can’t argue that the body isn’t that of their relative. Once the arena is free of tributes and the victor leaves the Capitol, they’ll send the bodies to their home districts so their families can bury whatever is left of them. Juliet claims that our best chance of getting us out of there is either when everyone’s focus is on the victor once they return to the Capitol or when we’re on the train back home. If we’re out of the Capitol, they can’t take us back. Mack and Brady make the plan sound effortless when they lay it out in three simple steps - fake our deaths in the arena, wait out the train ride home, and arrive in District 3 as free tributes - however, it feels like anything but. I guess, on their side of things, the plan is simple, but Vivien, Royce, and I still have a lot to do. We still have to endure the interviews, survive the bloodbath, and avoid being killed by the other tributes.

The conversation dies down once Vivien joins us for breakfast and, once we’re done eating, Juliet pulls Vivien back to her room to try on some clothes for their practice interviews. I wait with the others for the group from District 6 to arrive and listen to them jabber about sponsors and things I can’t bring myself to care about, but once Royce and his group arrive, I break off from the group and find my way to Juliet’s room. Inside, Vivien has been shoved into a dress I can tell she wants to rid herself of while her stylist looks on from her spot on the bed. In an effort to lighten the mood, I lean against the door frame and chuckle, “You look like one of those cake toppers at that ritzy bakery in Pixel Square.”

Vivien flips me off and calls me the nickname she chose long ago, but when I tell her that Royce has arrived, I see panic flood her eyes. Her stylist brushes me off and tells me to have fun, but my focus is on Vivien who I can tell is trying to force herself to calm down. Eventually, she finds my gaze and I send her a small, encouraging smile before leaving the room and telling Royce where to find them. His stylist, Carrie, moves past him with her arms loaded down with items she thinks they’ll need for the day, eager to find her friend while Royce simply shakes his head and trails behind her. Once they’re behind closed doors, I’m brought to Topaz’s room and made to try on a sample of my interview outfit before being allowed back into more comfortable clothing. My interview training begins once I’m back in the living room with the three mentors, but it doesn’t last long as the four mentors decide that, as long as I relax and let my answers come naturally, I should be fine. My natural protectiveness over Vivien and, by extension, Royce will serve me well in front of the Capitol and the ease I have speaking with the others makes it feel as though the interviews will go well, but I have a hard time holding my tongue when it comes to quick remarks or snarky comments about the Capitol.

We spend the rest of our time explaining the plan to Royce’s mentor, Butchy, who seems to take to it easily. His advice is simple: watch for cameras, draw attention to the other tributes, and, if necessary, find an alternative route to victory. He theorizes that, if we play our cards right and make it to the final three left alive, they could use Juliet and Carrie’s popularity to convince the Capitol citizens to want to call off the Games, effectively cutting it short and letting us out without the need for us to worry about the trackers. While the thought is nice, the idea of leaving the arena before it gets that far is much more appealing. In my opinion, the sooner we're out of the arena, the better, but I still take his idea into consideration all the same. 

The others join us for lunch after a while and, once the stylists leave to tailor our interview outfits, we’re asked about things we could use in the arena and we fill the others in on the fact that the arena will be a cruise ship. After a while, the stylists return and drag us off to have our clothes altered while Royce and his team leave and, by the time we find ourselves around the table again, exhaustion has set in. I retire to my room early and allow sleep to carry me into the next day. The day breezes by so quickly I have a hard time registering half of what’s happening around me, but I’m eventually dressed in an emerald suit, placed in front of a mirror, and praised by the prep team and stylists before being brought to the living room to wait for Vivien.

Vivien’s entrance is like something out of a Capitol-made movie and I have to wonder if she feels comfortable in her emerald gown. She looks scared and I can’t blame her; I am too. We both don’t do well in front of others like this as both of us have a hard time keeping our mouths shut. If we say or do something the Capitol audience doesn’t like, we could very well sign our death warrants. Vivien’s eyes find me fairly quickly and I watch her smile broaden as she scans my suit. We match and, although I can tell she likes it just as much as I do, the mirth in her gaze is hard to miss. I feel the need to comment on her clothing, giving a teasing, “Look what someone scrubbed off the shower wall.” 

Her taunt of, “Says the walking green bean,” is said with a beaming smile as I pull her close, allowing her some sort of refuge from the chaos we’re about to endure. We ride down to the waiting area and Mick’s parents give us hugs of encouragement before leaving us there. We’re met by the girls we chose to team up with and they give us some advice about the pair from District 5 and the Careers before leaving to line up with the others.

Sadly, that’s all I had written out for the epilogue, but I do have two extra scenes for later on in the epilogue that I worked on to fill things out a bit more and get them out of my head haha.

1 - Riven’s first + second-ish days in the arena

With Topaz’s advice in mind, I keep my eyes closed until my podium latches into place, allowing my eyes to adjust fairly quickly to the light that burns from above. The heat is unlike anything we get back in District 3, but I try to push away the wave of heat that washes over me as I take in my surroundings. Vivien is close to the mouth of the Cornucopia - that’s good. If she can grab some supplies and make a run for it, she can get to safety faster than most of the other tributes. The countdown begins as I find that Royce isn’t far from Vivien, standing just four podiums away. If he can run, he should. Take something and run, let Vivien do the rest. She’s close to the Cornucopia and I know she’s fast, she can take something bigger and run, meeting with me and Royce someplace else. Vivien glances my way and directs her gaze toward a set of backpacks I just barely make out through the rolling waves of heat. One is accented with red and the other with green. If what Juliet told me the other day is true, she’ll have medical supplies and some kind of tech with her. I give her the smallest nod I can manage and watch as her gaze settles on the packs once more. She’ll be running for them, no doubt.

Royce looks worried, but has his gaze focused on something near the mouth of the Cornucopia. From what I can see, it’s either a rolled-up black bag or a small, silver backpack. Silver is good. Silver is enough food to last someone a few days if they use it sparingly. He could do well with that. Black is, typically, something for small weapons - knives, multi-tools, throwing stars, and things of that nature. If Royce can grab both of those and run, he’ll be fine. Looking around, I find a large, tightly packed, purple-striped bag that I know must contain some sort of luxury item. Whatever it is, it must be huge if it fills the bag so much that it appears as though the zippers will burst open at the slightest touch. In case the bag chooses to explode, I look around and spot a lighter, yellow bag near a set of stairs on my right that I can grab if I want to get out of the area as soon as possible. Yellow is a wild card, if Juliet is right. It could be something useful like food or water or it could be something completely useless like an empty pouch or a pair of socks. Either way, I could take it and run if everything goes well.

The cannon blast echoes through the arena, signaling the beginning of the Games, and I launch into a sprint, grabbing the purple bag on my way through the fray. The asshole from District 1 swings a nearby sword in my direction, but I roll under it and kick his legs out from under him. As he falls, I catch a glimpse of Vivien colliding with the ground, but as I stand to run toward her, someone slams into me from behind and I turn to see Jade holding a backpack as a shield in front of her, her back facing me. The blade lodged into the bag is a clear sign that she’s protected me and the nod we share cements the idea of our alliance. Turning toward the stairwell once more, I run for them, grabbing a machete and yellow backpack from near the bloodied body of the boy from District 4 along the way. The inside of the stairwell is lined with bloody footprints that I hope don’t belong to either of the kids in my care as I follow them two decks down. There, the prints split off - one heading further into the ship and another set heading outside through a large metal door. One set of footprints must lead to Vivien, but which one? I don’t bother trying to spend much time thinking and decide to descend further into the ship, taking the steps as far down as they allow before finding my way inside. 

The first room I investigate on the floor I arrive on has the word “casino” on the wall in large letters and I quickly find that I’m not the only person in the area. The girl from District 8 - I discover from Royce later on that her name is Jeyveera - shrieks at my intrusion and swings wildly at me with her backpack. Using her momentum against her, I take a step back and watch the bag pull her toward the floor in a heap. She’s injured already, most likely gaining the slash in her abdomen from the bloodbath. Although she’s trying desperately to fend me off, I can see in her eyes that she just wants to run. Her fight isn’t with me, it’s with staying alive. Peering up at me from the floor, Jeyveera shakes her head and looks away.

“Are you going to kill me?” she asks.

“No,” I reply. “But you should probably move. The further you are from the stairwell, the better.”

“I’ll bleed to death,” she scoffs.

“Maybe, but it shows you’re still trying to fight.”

Lifting her gaze from the floor, I find her dark, almost black eyes filled with a hint of determination. She nods and, with a hand pressed firmly to the steadily leaking gash in her side, rises from the floor, taking her backpack and inching her way toward the door I’d entered through. I don’t spend much longer in the casino and find my way to another set of stairs and find a layout of the ship on a map. Scanning over the map is easy and I try to take note of where things are before I continue onward. The sky outside darkens as I make my way to a place called The Two Whales - a restaurant on the far end of the ship. I barricade myself in the kitchen in the back of the restaurant, snagging cans of vegetables after making sure that nobody could come in from any point in the room. I have no way of knowing who is alive or where the others are, but I know I’m safe in my kitchen, surrounded by weapons that are typically used for cooking. 

Rifling through my backpacks rewards me kindly and I find myself with a sleeping bag, a portable grill, and some thick packages of meat. I set up camp inside a series of cabinets that have no walls to separate them and stay up only long enough to see the flashes of tributes' faces in the sky. Once I’m sure that none of my allies have been killed off, I make myself comfortable and try to get some sleep. To my dismay, sleep doesn’t come easily as I still worry about Vivien and Royce. They’re still somewhere on the ship, wandering around or hunkered down in a location I have yet to explore. When I turn onto my side after some hours of trying to find some semblance of peace, my arm shoved under my head as a pillow, I finally get some kind of answer.

“They’re safe,” a voice whispers from my watch. The voice is barely audible, but I don’t have to guess who it is. Juliet’s Capitol accent is thick, but her words are comforting all the same. “They’re separated, but they’re safe. Just try to sleep. The sun will rise soon if the Gamemakers are following the time right now.”

Eventually, my eyes close and, when I finally open them again, I can see the faintest hint of the sun between the cracks of the cabinet doors. Gathering all of my belongings, I decide to continue with the plan Royce, Vivien, and I made before the Games started. I deposit my belongings in a stateroom on Deck 12 and begin my trek up to the Cornucopia with an empty backpack and the machete I snagged from the bloodbath.

2 - The aftermath of Riven’s “death” + his time in the Capitol

The feeling of being limply lifted from the deck into the hovercraft is surreal. I’ve seen it time and time again over the years on television, but living it is something else. From under my eyelashes, I can just barely see that the hovercraft is filled with people in white coats and a pair of Peacekeepers, but the white-coated doctors are instructed to leave by a simple wave of the Peacekeeper's hand after they haul me and Lexi’s dead body onto separate gurneys. Once everyone else has left the room and the door slides into place, the Peacekeepers reach up to their helmets and remove them, revealing Juliet and her friend, Carrie - the stylist in charge of Royce’s outfits. 

Carrie looks around before nodding to Juliet, “We’re clear.”

I close my eyes as Juliet reaches for my bloodied arm and swipes a nearby towel across it, cleaning it of blood before pressing a gloved hand to the skin. She feels around for a while as blood begins to pool around the open wound again and I hear her whisper, “It’s gone.”

“The tracker is gone?” Carrie questions softly. I hear Juliet hum in agreement. “Then shouldn’t that mean he’s alive?”

“He is,” Juliet whispers. “I can feel his pulse.”

Opening my eyes, I find Juliet and Carrie above me, examining my face so closely that I have to wonder what they were going to do to make me reveal that I was conscious. Instead of following through with whatever devious plans they’d concocted, I watch as their faces split into brilliant, pearly smiles. Giving them a smile of my own, I greet them, “Well, hello to you too.”

Juliet gives me a hug and they both congratulate me before deciding to follow through with whatever protocol they have to do as fake Peacekeepers. Lexi’s body is pulled into a room to one side and I’m brought to another. They leave me alone for a moment, pulling their helmets back into place before leaving the room and, when they return, they bring a single doctor to clean my wounds. My arm is sewn back together with clear threads and, before the doctor leaves, Juliet slips them something I have to assume is a thick fold of money intended to keep them quiet. The two of them question me briefly in private before reassuring me that they’ll make sure to keep an eye on Vivien and Royce for me while I wait for the Games to end. When the hovercraft lands atop the Training Center, Carrie leaves the room to bring Lexi’s body inside and I’m instructed by Juliet to keep as still as possible until she tells me otherwise. When I nod, she smiles and slides her Peacekeeper helmet into place once again before taking hold of my gurney and guiding it to an elevator. The ride down to the medical suite is quiet and, upon our arrival, Juliet brings a pouch out of her uniform and sets it into some man’s hand before telling him to do what he can to clean me up before instructing him to leave us alone.

For the remainder of the Hunger Games, I’m kept in the apartment Juliet and Carrie share. The room I’m given is an offensive shade of pink and the curtains remain closed at all times, however, the television mounted on the wall allows me to keep an eye on what’s happening in the arena, so I don’t complain. Vivien’s reaction to my death is gut-wrenching and I want nothing more than to reach through the screen and comfort her myself, but Royce does a good job at being there for her, never leaving her side. The two stay together until the end of the Hunger Games, eventually tempting fate by drinking a wine that they mixed with nightlock berries and securing them both a victory.

I’m forced to move into the president’s mansion after he discovers that Juliet and Carrie had been aiding and abetting me. It doesn’t surprise me nearly as much that he figured things out, but it takes me a while to adjust to seeing the man every day. On my first day in the mansion, I’m escorted by a flock of Peacekeepers to a large, circular room that I later find out is his meeting room. He sits me down and slides a book into my hands, telling me that he wishes for Vivien and Royce to solve a little puzzle for him in order to secure my safety and that he hopes they’ll have it solved by the end of the Victory Tour. When I tell him that it will be easy and that they’ll solve anything he throws their way, he smiles, but it isn’t nearly as sadistic as I thought it would be. Instead, he looks pleased with my answer; almost as though he’d come to that same conclusion already and simply wanted to hear me confirm it. That night, I lie awake wondering if I made the right decision in telling him how confident I was. 

Thankfully, the room I’m housed in inside the president’s mansion actually feels like a home, not some bubblegum pink, retina-burning eyesore. The warm lighting, comfortable furniture, and occasional visits from Juliet and Carrie make me feel somewhat relaxed as I spend every day within the same set of walls. Then, when the Victory Banquet comes around, I am forced to watch from afar as Vivien and Royce are escorted around in a daze. More than once, I wish for one of them to simply look up at the balcony on which I’m perched and catch my gaze, but neither of them does. Instead, as they’re guided toward the door, one of the peacekeepers takes my arm and leads me back to my room through winding hallways I would have easily gotten lost in. From my room, I watch as their car pulls away from the mansion and I feel an ache in my chest as they disappear into the crowded Capitol streets.

The first few weeks I spend in the mansion, I spend reading the book the president claims will hold the key to my release. At first, I don’t see the puzzle he wants Vviien and Royce to find, but I figure it out in time. I am escorted by Peacekeeper guards to dinner in the almost oddly small dining room I’ve had to eat every meal in with the president himself. It’s there that I question him on the book, asking if I’d solved his puzzle. With a smile, he tells me that I have and that he hopes my friends have done the same. As the days go on, the guards that guide me from one room to another shift from being in full, Peacekeeper regalia to standing around in comfortable-looking, Capitol clothing and simply waving to me as I pass on the almost familiar path to the dining room. Most nights, I sit around the small, square table with Juliet on my right and her father to my left. Every meal, I am treated as though I am nothing more than a guest despite being a prisoner of some sort.

Although Juliet doesn’t live full-time with her father in the mansion, she seems particularly upset with the idea of me being kept on the premises, confiding in me that she wishes I could return home. I’ve overheard her pleading with her father to let me go more than once, but to no avail. Instead, she makes it a point to call Vivien’s house while I am with her, letting me listen to Vivien ramble on to the blonde about her daily life and some of the difficulties she’s faced in recent times. Eventually, the calls fade from a few hours to maybe a half-hour, if we’re lucky. In every call, I can hear the pain and feigned happiness in Vivien’s voice with every word, only serving to drive the knife further into my chest. Despite my desire to say something or make a noise in the background to show her that I’m there and can hear her, Juliet reminds me that her father made me promise to let them solve the puzzle themselves and I force myself to remain silent. The president could easily have one of his guards kill me or have his kitchen staff poison my food - I don’t wish to end up actually dead.

At the end of the third month, I’m given some freedom. I’m allowed to wander the grounds unattended and, more than once, Carrie and Juliet invite me to their apartment for dinner. Of course, to keep my anonymity, they dress me in some of the latest trends and keep me in disguise until I’m back inside the mansion, but getting outside and being able to feel some semblance of freedom is nice. As time goes by, I hardly even care about the ridiculous outfits they shove me into.

By the time five months have passed, I’m almost used to the everyday life inside the mansion. I’ve befriended some of the guards and joined in on some of their late-night card games. They no longer greet me with curt nods and stiff waves, instead greeting me the same way my friends back home would. I have access to almost every room and spend most of my time reading some of the books in the mansion’s library, occasionally taking a book out to the garden when the rain has cleared and reading with the occasional birds or rabbits that come up to me almost expectantly. I learn from a brief encounter with the president in the greenhouse that the animals expect food every time someone steps outside and, from then on, I keep a pouch of seeds and a handful of sliced carrots on me everytime I step out to the garden.

Carrie and Juliet visit me before the Victory Tour is set to begin, giving me final embraces before their departure. As the cameras and prep teams will be with them the entire time, I’m disallowed from joining them at the train station, but their visit is enough for me to hope that they will aid Vivien and Royce with the puzzle if they haven’t solved it already. Once Carrie leaves my room, Juliet takes a small box from her pocket and tucks it into my hand with a wink before following her friend out. The box contains the watch I wore in the arena, the glass no longer broken and the time finally functional once more. Once Juliet boards the train, I hear the voice I’ve grown used to hearing come over the watch’s miniscule speaker, telling me that she’ll keep me updated on everything and let me hear as much as she does once she arrives in District 6.

Juliet keeps to her word and I hear almost every conversation she has once she steps off of the train. I hear the conversations she has with the mayor and some of the people who have gathered at the train station, her idle chatter with the prep teams, and, most interestingly, Royce and his family. It seems as though they have plans to surprise Vivien, something I sincerely hope works out for them. They spend a while talking and preparing Royce for the journey and, just as they’re about to file into the car, I hear him exclaim about something he forgot inside his house. A few minutes later, he returns, sliding into the car alongside Carrie, who asks, “Sherlock Holmes, huh?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “President Harmon gave it to me.”

It’s then that I wonder if he’s solved it. I mean, by now, I would hope that he and Vivien have worked together to answer the puzzle, but there’s no telling. The train ride to District 3 is mostly silent, but that gives me time to try to think of something to say if I’m able to see Vivien and Royce again. A few days into the Victory Tour, when the group is stationed in District 7, I go to the president in search of a certain book I enjoyed in the arena. I try not to look as disappointed as I feel when he tells me that he doesn’t have a copy of the book, but to my surprise, he finds me later that evening in the garden and hands me a set of books by Will Livingston - volumes one and two of my joke book, No Pun Intended. 

I thank him and, before he leaves, he asks, “What is the downside to eating a clock?”

My eyes widen at the prospect of the president cracking a joke from one of the books and I try to think of an answer before shrugging, “I don’t know.”

With a smirk rivaling that of my own, President Harmon replies, “It’s time consuming.”

We share a laugh and the president wishes me a good night before heading back inside, leaving me in the garden with my jokebooks and my thoughts. I spend a few days poring over the books in search of the perfect joke to use and, while I find many that are hilarious, none of them have the impact that I’m looking for. Then, when the Victory Tour is stopped in District 2, I find the perfect joke - one about ghosts. I mean, how fitting is that? I’m supposedly a ghost right now, so it works out perfectly, in my opinion.

For the next few days, I anxiously await the arrival of my friends, thinking of ways they could react to my sudden appearance after all this time. However, nothing could have prepared me for the real deal. I first see them from the same balcony I’d stood on six months prior, Vivien latched onto Royce’s arm as they’re guided through the party by Carrie and Juliet. More than once, I have the urge to vault over the railing and join them, but President Harmon had two of the guards - Hermes and Silas - escort me there for a reason, so I keep myself in check. As the party nears its end, I’m brought back to my room and told to wait there for further instruction When Carrie and Juliet come barging into my room after the party is over, the door bouncing off the wall from slamming it so hard, I have to jump. Then, the glittering excitement in their eyes makes it obvious that the time has come for me to make an appearance.

A million thoughts race through my head as the girls lead me to the circular office the president is waiting in. I hear Vivien and Royce before I see them and their voices alone are enough to make my eyes burn and my chest tighten. The doors slide open silently and Juliet pulls me to a spot just a few paces behind Vivien and Royce and gestures for me to stay silent as the president asks, “How does this coincide with the changes you would like to make?”

I hear Vivien take in a sharp breath, ready to snap back at an instant, but it’s Royce who speaks first, an impressively assertive tone clinging to every word, “If Riven is still alive, here in the Capitol, we would like to bring him home.”

Almost too meekly to sound like my Pip, Vivien utters, “Please. I just want to bring him home.” She takes in another breath and releases her thoughts to the room, “It’s not the same without him. Without him there, I have nobody back home who will tease me relentlessly or sing dumb songs on the walk home from work or will go out on the lake with me in the winter and goof off or-” Vivien’s voice stops and I fight the urge to reach out and comfort her as Royce wraps an arm around her shoulders. With a shaky, almost wet sounding voice, she adds, “Nobody to make me listen to his absolutely terrible jokes.”

I meet the president’s gaze in the silence that follows and, as he rises from the table and takes a book from the other side of it, I wonder if my time has come. “I understand how difficult it is to lose someone, Vivien,” he tells them. “My wife died just a few years ago. Memories like you have are hard to let go of, but there will always be more memories to make with the people you love.”

President Harmon returns to the side everyone hass gathered on and holds a book out for them to see. My joke book. I know my copies are still in the room I’ve been kept in, so I know he must have gotten an extra copy for himself. Vivien reaches out for the book and he pulls it out from near her grasp, leaving her sputtering as he holds it out once more, this time, glancing my way. Carrie nudges me closer and I quickly take the book, saying a quick, “Sorry, Pip,” as I latch onto it. “I know you love books and all, but I believe that’s actually mine.”

Royce is the first to move, breathing out a soft, “No fucking way,” once he sees me. I can feel the burn in my eyes as they begin to blur. 

Royce smiles at me and urges Vivien to turn my way as I try to clal back on any of the times I had prepared for this moment. “I have a joke for you two,” I offer as Vivien turns and I try to keep my emotions in check as she keeps her gaze from mine. 

Eventually, she meets my eyes and I find she’s already crying, her tears lining her cheeks with faint tracks of whatever makeup has been layered on her skin. “Riven?” she mutters.

As much as I want to launch forward and take both of them in, I still want to get my greeting joke across as I ask,  “Why are ghosts terrible liars?”

Vivien looks confused while Royce simply barks a laugh and slams into my chest, berating me with a laugh of, “Six months apart and you decide to greet us with a shitty joke?”

“Shitty?” I laugh as I bring my arms around Royce’s shoulders. “But you haven’t even heard the punchline!”

Royce slides away a step and, as he hastily swipes a hand under his eyes, I turn my attention back to Vivien who looks as though she’s seen a ghost. Her skin, despite the makeup, looks pale and, as she wobbles on her feet, I ask her if she’s alright, but receive no answer. Carrie reaches out and places a hand on her arm, asking a simple, “Vivien?”

In return, Vivien jumps and, all at once, her eyes roll back and I lurch forward, catching her before she has the chance to hit the floor. The others crowd around us as we wait for Vivien to rouse, but it takes a few minutes. Her eyes flutter open and she looks around before muttering a soft, “Tired,” in response to Juliet’s question of if she was alright and falling asleep once again. Despite Royce and the stylists claiming Vivien had been overwhelmed for most of the party and insisting that she must have collapsed due to exhaustion, President Harmon calls for one of his guards who retrieves the President’s personal medic. The doctor examines Vivien, checking her over before simply restating the assumptions passed on by Royce and the girls. In the end, I carry her to the car that has been waiting for us and we ride to the train station in relative silence so as to not wake Vivien. Royce chooses to stay the night with her in case she wakes up confused with being in a new location and I lie awake for most of the night, glad to finally be going home.

Sadly, that's all I've got for you, but I certainly hope that you enjoyed reading through all of the deleted scenes I've compiled over the last few months. This story was such an adventure and I had so much fun working on it, but hopefully, I'll be working on some one-shots soon to fill up the summer with writing and prepare me for my novel version of this fantastic little world we've created with these characters!

#Scattered Screams

[spectral-snippets-and-drabbles]

New Leaf!Au

Danny successfully completed his training to ascend to the throne and is taking a well earned vacation to celebrate. The time for said vacation time is a surprisingly long, long vacation but one he was happy to take one nonetheless! So he decided to travel the multiverse and found one that had heroes!

Surely he could finally kick back, relax and watch them handle things without his help, right? Especially after aiding them in taking down the guy with funny lazer eyes (he tore Darkseid to pieces in front of said heroes for them).

...Right?

After much gaslighting, feigning innocence, and speaking half-truths on his part, Danny is able to convince them that he's an alien that was the last of his kind with very few memories left of who he was. Thankfully, Martian ManHunter's mind reading abilities don't work on ghosts, so it made him sell his pitch all the more easily.

"I cannot sense them anymore...I am alone...Will I die alone too?"

So now the league of heroes with a bleeding heart take him in and give him a place to stay as a reserve member. After being told that his kind age rather slowly and that he's still considered a youngling, Dinah thinks socializing with younger people will do wonders for Phantom.

And for a while, things are going good until a certain Hellblazer comes rushing to the Leauge to inform the Leauge that the Infinite Realms has been ruined by Pariah Dark and freaks out when he sees Phantom wearing the Ring of Rage.

Something only one Ghost Royalty can wield. Pariah Dark was the last known King of the Realms.

However, due to a lack of knowledge from on the Infinite Realms' practices and culture, they can only speculate what the happened before Phantom found himself wandering around the place. This causes everyone to go crazy with several conspiracy theories.

The most popular ones are as follows, not in any specific tank or order:

1) Phantom has the Ring of Rage on his ring finger. Specifically, on his left ring finger.

Which has some speculating that he was the husband/consort/favored concubine to the king and was offered it to become Pariah's beloved. With all of his injuries, it's assumed Dark's enemy's tortured Phantom to the point of memory regression and so the enraged monarch sacked the Realms to either find him or enact revenge.

Phantom did mentioned he probably had children (Dan and Dani) and that his 'kind' don't need to be male and female exclusively to have offspring.

(He used Box Ghost and Lunch Lady as reference.)

2) Constantine with the knowledge of how one becomes king.

It's possible that Phantom took the title of King after challenging Pariah Dark to one on one combat and suffered a serious blow to his head in the fight to usurp the Tyrant, causing his amnesia.

Medical scans revealed a healed scar on the side of his head under his hair, giving some support to the theory. If that's the case, then their friend is a potential warrior king lost in the Land of the Living!

3) Constantine is taken at face value.

Phantom is Pariah Dark. When his subjects made a move to kill him, they failed and somehow banished him to the realm of the living in exile. If Phantom regained these old memories and truly was the old warlord standing before them, the Leauge would have to make contingency plans to eliminate him, as he laid one of the afterlives to near irreparable ruin.

(Batman's infamous paranoia makes things worse to the point where Danny may flee the universe if he were to use a contingency on him...everyone disliked that!)

4) A Victim of unjust Betrayal?

During his talks with Martian ManHunter, Phantom talked about pieces of memories of ungrateful people and how they saw him as a menace, even though he did everything possible to keep them safe. Everything became a blur after his last encounter with his enemies but couldn't recall what happened next. When he came to, the place was in ruin.

(So it's possible he pulled a Lobo, lashed out in his panicked state and damaged the realms under extreme stress after being harmed by the denizens of the Realms before running away to escape.)

5) Regressed through other means?

Constantine knows that some ghosts have an initial form after death, so he believes that there's a chance that Phantom is Pariah Dark just before he used his powers to become the Evil King, his amnesia making him regress back to the moment before he makes a final decision.

• Some Leaguers believe he's a ticking time bomb if he regained his old memories. One that they probably can't stop, as Constantine and the other magic users can sense some serious God-like power emanating from the Phantom and who definitely has legions of undead armies at his command with forgotten knowledge that would make Apokolips look tame in comparison.

• The others who are more compassionate believe that this could be a chance to help nudge Pariah Dark onto a better path to avoid becoming evil again. Better to help walk a just path and not give him a reason to believe the Leauge would harm him.

One things for certain; everyone believes Phantom is at the critical moment on the crossroad again that could very well make or break the safety of the both the Infinite Realms and Multiverse.

So they'll help him go down the path of Justice.

#danny phantom #justice league #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #He just wanted a break from being a hero ={ #Danny is mentally screaming into a pillow #Clockwork and the Ancients are laughing their asses off at the notion of Danny being Dark's boytoy #The fact they think he's Pariah Dark's husband is making him want to die again #Ghosts in the DC multiverse rarely make it to Infinite Realms and are in Limbo #One contracted to Constantine finally made it through the veil and was horrified to see the state of the Infinite Realms #Said ghost couldn't find anyone because the piece of Constantine's soul is repels them #It's like when an orca kills a shark and every single shark for miles scatters #They don't want to be around something that so mangled #Constantine's informant is really late on news and thinks it's recent #The Leauge has outdated information #Everyone thinks Danny is Pariah Dark!au

[irisbaggins]

I think people are assuming the klck killing buddy was a split second decision, but brennan confirmed in the adventuring party that it was already on the table, which makes the pivot from aiming the crossbow at the proctor to sliting buddy's throat more of a "I only have time to do one thing" and less of a "panic and hit the eject"

Yupp! I just finished watching that episode, and I felt vindicated in that moment. It feels like it was always planned, something I suspected ever since Buddy was introduced and Kipperlilly mentioned her knowledge of everything to do with YES?. It seems much more likely that killing Buddy was always on the table, and his death was needed for everything to succeed the way they wanted. Wether it was so they could kill Kristen permanently/for a bit (which would kill the remnants of Cassandra), or if it was to gain access to Sol, that's unconfirmed. But I suspect it's something along those lines, as killing their clerics due to their divinity seems to be something of a pattern of theirs.

I strongly believe Kipperlilly intended to kill Buddy in that arena, she just never expected Kristen of all people to clock her before she was able to execute her plan. After all, if you can only do one thing, killing the proctor will just make their grades waver as an end result. But killing Buddy, whilst there's still dangerous monsters on the field? Well, they can't pass the Last Stand if they're all dead and without any ability to resurrect themselves. After all, why would she have stolen the gems if she hadn't intended to kill Buddy? She would've then only stolen Buddy's gems, but she also stole Kristen's. Meaning, Kristen couldn't revive anyone, either. Either way, she never intended for someone to ever leave the battlefield, that much is clear.

The motive, however, is still up in the air. But I'd bet it has something to do with Heaven and Creation, and perhaps also with making sure that if one of the Bad Kids died, they'd stay dead.

Kipperlilly's shock came from being caught, but her actions were still carefully calculated. It would, after all, have made more sense to kill Kristen if she acted out of pure shock if she had no back-up plan. Kristen is her rival, Kristen caught her, and Kristen is a cleric. Yet, she went for Buddy, somebody they had requested to have on their party. It all smells like pre-meditated murder to me.

#text_loke #meta from loke #oooo really loved getting this ask! #my first post was made riiight after the episode with a scattered brain. this i'm more coherent for #i firmly believe Kipperlily intended to kill both Gavin and Buddy. it makes too much sense to me #ESPECIALLY since she could throw the blame onto the Bad Kids! she could make them the villains. she could frame them for the murder #first kill gavin to make sure he can't be a witness. then kill Buddy #the Bad Kids are known for murdering folks. so who will believe them when they say they DIDN'T murder this guy they have public beef with? #it all screams of an attempted framing #Fantasy High #fhjy spoilers #Dimension 20 #Buddy Dawn #Kristen Applebees #Kipperlilly Copperkettle

[sadnessisavegetable]

Quick sketch of Ghirahim probably insulting someone.

#(I am tempted to also post the scattering of drawings i have of this BASTARD where he’s holding small children but idk about that yet…) #(something about how I draw this man screams ‘he can hold small children and tend to them well’) #(but that might be me having thoughts as an eldest child with a bastard man as a comfort character) #ghirahim #legend of zelda #loz #my art

[difeisheng]

few things have hurt me more than the recurring motif in chinese lhl fanart that is li lianhua using shaoshi to kill li xiangyi

#i can't find original links to all the pieces i have saved and they're scattered across xhs and lofter #so i'm hesitant to link them #but my GOD it makes my heart ache every time i see a new one #(and one time it was li xiangyi putting li lianhua to rest instead. and another it was both of them each stabbing the other) #the worst part is that the killing is always a soft act #li lianhua is so gentle as he lowers li xiangyi to the ground #ahem anyways. i needed to scream #mysterious lotus casebook #li xiangyi #ashton originals

[thelesbianthespianposts]

MY WIFE HAS RETURNED!!!!!

#Rose Tyler you will always be famous #I literally screamed when she appeared #It’s been too long #her and Donna getting along!!!!!! #Donna being like #‘Yeah there was this blonde chick idk’ #And the doctor’s internally like ‘that could be anyone it’s prolly not my ex’ #And the BAD WOLF named drop #Yes girl! Take those letters and scatter them #Hope we see more bad wolf action in the finale #Rose tyler #love of my life tag #J watches drwho #doctor who

[note-boom]

Just putting in my two cents for this episode.

One? Fukuchi is ANNOYINGLY op, sorry, but in a really interesting way so I'm also not too mad. I also get slight (just slight) vibes that he's also on the good guys' side? Either he will be defeated as a villain by the end of this or something will come up that actually, he time travel-orchestrated all this all along and he was always on the side of the good guys, idk.

Two? "Sorry, I skipped literature class"

Tachihara, you are PART of literature class

#sorry i just heard that line and my mind forgot everything else #anyway AJFWIOEREWIORJEIAROWEJSAEIORJWER #IM SCREAMING TACHIHARA WAS SO COOL AND I HATE THAT FUKUCHI IS SO OP WHY #but also like....there's that possibility too right? #can send info to his past self. increase abilities. i bet because plot he could send info to his past self to defeat fyodor or whatever #or maybe not i honestly really dont know #but there IS that distinct convoluted plot possibility so im just gonna throw it out there #anyway what about that episode....tachi and aku and all the vampires... #and the airport arc. THIS MEANS AYA KODA YOU GUYS SHE'S THE ONLY ONE I CARE ABOUT NOW #sorry for smashing all my scattered thoughts into one post again XD #bsd #bsd season 5 #bsd s5 spoilers #bsd spoilers #bsd tachihara #bsd fukuchi #bsd musings #spitting nonsense #bsd theories

[indigoire]

I don't think I can fully express how much Pentiment means to me. As someone who has been in a dark place, had suicidal thoughts, wished I was dead, when a game like Pentiment comes along with the message that every single life matters, every last one of us means something to someone, our absence is a hole that can never be fully mended...well, it strikes a chord in me.

Obviously there are other important messages the game wants to get across, obviously there's important history and traditions the game wishes to teach us, how these people in this time and place lived, what they did, how they affected the world around them (or how they didn't and how their stories were lost to time)--I could go on, but the most important message to me, the heart of hearts, the center of the labyrinth is every. Single. Life. Matters.

#Pentiment #feeling very sentimental today and STILL screaming over this game #I want to make a youtube essay about this game but I can't so instead I will scatter my thoughts into fifty text posts and send them #into the void (aka the Pentiment tag on tumblr) #and maybe you all will read them

[mainfaggot]

sometimes u have to go sit on the swing at ur neighborhood playground and experience revelations while trying not to sob

#this is funny because I've been so emotionally scattered for the past three days that i cant even cry like it sounds like a #weird scream instead of a sob and no tears come out. i think i broke my tear ducts LOL #it's kind of like in the movies. me and my swing ... it's not that romantic honestly i just feel afraid of people observing me #through their windows #bc the playground is right in the middle of the neighborhood like there are houses all around it #what if ppl are talking mad shit about the 5'5 unspecified gender/age individual who was aggressively swinging in -10°C weather #idgaf anyway. i did some thinking and i feel insane and tired but i think i know where to start sorting myself out at least #so much work to be alive holy shit #z.post

[wordsofawanderingsoul]

Deep deep deeeeeeeeeeep sigh.

If anyone here follows me for my fic, I regret to inform you that the latest chapter of OSP will come out next month.

I’m trying really hard not to cry right now because I had it almost done and then my computer crashed.

And the entire chapter got deleted. I have tried several ways to recover it, and am still trying, but nothing is working. If you have any tips or suggestions id love to hear them. But if not, I’m going to have to redo it all. And I was on the second draft so I don’t have notes for any of the changes I made.

Thanks for your patience.

#professor layton #ace attorney #our scattered pieces #osp #my fic #I screamed very loudly into my pillow #and now I feel numb and disappointed #it was going so well

[catmaidetho]

i just wanna say. watching etho play the various minigames of the server and figure out the best strategy to absolutely demolish his opponents is so fun. decked out s7 running all lootfinder and then spending all his time in the black market to get as many keys as possible to keep playing infinitely. tcg this season where his strategy just about hinges on using stress and efficiency to secure last-second wins where the odds otherwise might not be in his favor. he's such a minigame sweat i love him <3

#khaos.txt #i hope this makes sense my thoughts are being scattered by a very cranky toddler sobbing and screaming in the background #anyway. etho's a fucking nerd and i love him #he plays for fun yes but he also plays to WIN. #i'll have to find the games he's played against cleo #bcuz cleo believes that the best type of kill is overkill #and etho's one of the most competitive hermits. if not THE MOST competitive

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Scattered Screams (Epilogue)

May 5, 2023

Notes - Happy Cinco de Mayo! Almost a year ago today, I posted the final part of Glory and Gore, this story's predecessor. That story reached a total of 131 pages whereas this one has a grand total of 310. Needless to say, I think this was an improvement!

I'll be in denial for at least a little while... What about the plans we made?

Ice crackles ominously beneath me as the metal blades under my shoes glide me forward over the thickened surface. I don’t fear the ice, not anymore at least, but if the ice were to break open and I were to fall through, would it really be that bad? Hypothermia could settle in my bones or the water could fill my lungs and I could drown. Either way, it would save me from the Victory Tour and the thousands, if not, millions, of people I could potentially embarrass myself in front of. I’ve never been particularly good at speeches, yet, in a few hours, I’ll be made to give the first of many in my brief interview with Caesar Flickerman. Almost six months ago, I first stood by his side, hinting at a love I had for a boy I barely knew, but today is different. Today begins the downfall of the Hunger Games.

Due to the rules that the Capitol made up long before I was born - maybe even before my grandparents were - Royce and I haven’t been able to see each other face-to-face. Due to district separation laws, we aren’t able to, despite us both being victors. It’s something that I’ve spoken to Juliet about numerous times and she claims her father is looking into abolishing the law for victors, but in the meantime, we won’t be able to see each other until the Victory Tour begins. With new, stricter Peacekeepers watching over both of us, we couldn’t even sneak aboard the trains to deliver materials to the other’s district, but we’ve found ways around it. Hours spent listening to each other over the radio or seeing each other over the shimmering hologram screen that Mick helped us rewire in our new house across the street from her family house in Victor’s Village. Not once have we actually seen each other, face-to-face, in the last six months.

Despite both of us craving nothing more than to be together again, I fear we both know that our train ride won’t last forever. Once the tour is over and the Games are, hopefully, called off forever, we’ll still be separated by an invisible barrier that a group of people who are now dead and buried came up with long before we existed. Our mentors were supposed to be able to let us go between districts for visits, but with the combination of new Peacekeepers being sent to watch over us and the amount of hours we both have spent working on our speeches, we never really had the opportunity to get away for any amount of time. We always could have asked the president to send a pardon of some sort so that the Peacekeepers would back the fuck off, but I’m not entirely willing to ask the president for something like that - not when he’s already spared us our lives. We’ll be seeing him all too soon anyway. The Victory Tour begins in just a few hours and, while I have no ambition to put myself on a stage in front of the other districts and give some half-assed apology for the deaths of their tributes, I’ll be glad to apologize to the families of the girls we worked with. 

Jade and Erica were friends to the three of us, whether any of us would admit it or not. They helped us when we needed them and vice versa. I have no problem thanking their families in their stead and apologizing for not being able to secure their return. With Lexi’s family, however, I feel there may be a bit of a struggle. I don’t know how many family members she has, but I’m pretty sure that me slitting her neck with a machete won’t gain me any of their favor. Regardless of whether she killed Riven or not and regardless of whether or not it was an act of self-defense, I still killed their family member. They have every right to hate me just as I had every right to kill Lexi in that moment. I’ll be civil with them if I’m allowed to speak with them, but I hardly ever cared enough to watch the previous Victory Tours, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to say so much as a simple greeting. 

As the sun breaks over the valley my little lake rests in, I let out a sigh and allow myself to come to a stop. If I plan on making it back to the Village before the prep team swarms the house, I should probably get going. The skates Juliet sent me for my birthday come off once I perch myself on a rock and I run my hands over my hair in an attempt to look half-decent. Though the prep team will have their way with me anyway, I feel the need to look as though I didn’t entirely rid myself of their hard work. I’ll be surprised if Mink doesn’t faint at the sight of my hangnail-ridden nails and the peeling skin around them - a nervous tick I picked up from Riven ages ago - and if poor Ambrosia takes one look at the dark, raccoon-esque circles around my eyes and starts tearing up. Gleam will, no doubt, have something to say about how unmanageable my hair has gotten with my endless split ends and the flakes of dry skin still clinging to my scalp no matter how much I wash it, but if I’m able to rouse my mom or perhaps Abby, maybe I’ll look at least somewhat put-together before their arrival.

The boots I was able to buy back in October have been broken in and allow me to make the trip through the woods to Riven’s old house with relative ease. My old winter shoes had worn out to the point that Bissette threatened to buy me a new pair, but I beat her to it, which I suppose was probably the reason she offered. Once I reach the fence around Riven’s old house, I stand on the bottom board and click my tongue a few times, waiting for the telltale crunch of hooves on snow. As soon as I arrived in my new house after the Games, Juliet asked me if there was anything else I wanted and, as a joking nod to my promise with Riven, I brought up wanting a horse. Needless to say, when the train arrived a few weeks later with one of the mountainous chariot horses being escorted from it, I was astonished. However, our friends got to work building a fence around Riven’s house and a stable for my Watson to sleep in and he’s made himself a home in our community. Normally, I stand by as school children pass him on their way to school - some asking to pet him or give him an apple before classes begin - before making my way to the school myself even though I have no need to attend school or work anymore, but today is different. Today, I leave Watson in Acer’s care for the foreseeable future and trust that he’ll be well taken care of.

Watson appears to know something is different as he nudges his nose under my hand, encouraging me to pet him. I already fed him earlier when I was on my way to the lake, so this time, I slip a mint I took from Bissette’s house out of my pocket and allow him to take it from me before giving him a quick kiss on his muzzle and heading inside the house. Though the funeral sort of squashed any hope I’d had of Riven still being alive, I still hope for his return, keeping his house in good condition until he arrives. None of his belongings have moved from their places, but the few things that I’ve brought in since returning to District 3 make the place look as though it’s still lived in. I suppose that, in a way, it still is. When I don’t fall asleep at my desk at work, I’ll make the late-night trek to Riven’s house and crash on the bed he used to deposit me on before crashing on the couch. Waking up to the messily painted lines on Riven’s ceiling where rain had crept through the cracks was welcoming after spending most of the last six months working myself to death despite not needing the extra money.

The only thing of Riven’s that I habitually take from the house is the bracelet I made for him. He wanted to make sure I have it and, as a loyal sibling and friend, I make sure to always wear it unless there’s a chance it could be ruined or confiscated. Slipping the bracelet on makes me feel complete and, after starting a fire in the hearth, I make something quick to eat with what I’ve left in the cupboards and open the window next to the table so that Watson can spy on me as he always does. After eating, I sit and read over the next part in the book that President Harmon gifted me. The book is long and covers so many stories that I wondered if I would be able to read it all before the Victory Tour, but here we are. Sherlock Holmes’ adventures seem almost too fantastical to be thought of, but the author seems to outdo himself with every story. I had read through the book fairly quickly the first time around, attempting to read through the lines and figure out the reason behind the president gifting it to me, but found nothing. Doctor Watson, the name of the detective’s friend and colleague, is actually where I got the name for the nosy horse who, as he does every morning, steals an apple from the windowsill before disappearing into his stable. Watson, both the fictional character and the horse, are both inquisitive beings and I couldn’t think of a better name for my equine friend.

Although I’ve spent months reading and re-reading the stories within the thick book, I’m still trying to figure out why President Harmon felt the need for Royce and me to have a copy. Maybe it really was just a simple gift from one book lover to another, but I doubt that’s all there is to it. After all, his own daughter said he always leaves a way out of the arena for those smart enough to find it. There has to be something more to the book. He wouldn’t just give it to us without a reason, but I’ve read the book three and a half times and have yet to find some hidden meaning in its pages. Just as I turn from the last page of The Adventure of the Naval Treaty to the first page of The Final Problem, I hear the front door open and bring myself to shove a last bite of toast into my mouth as Acer makes his presence known.

“How are you holding up there, Viv?” he asks as he pulls a chair out and sits across from me.

“I’m fine,” is my near-instant reply. It has been for months now. I tuck a scrap of paper into the book before closing it and focusing my gaze on the boy across from me. His hair is no longer the same hue as a tomato as he dyed it black as a sign of mourning months ago and allowed it to grow out his natural brown from there, but his eyes remain their piercing green all the same. I know he doesn’t take my words at face value, but he doesn’t argue them either. We both know how I’ve been the last six months and he doesn’t bother fighting me about it anymore. “Are you ready to take Watson or are you going to stay with him until I get back?”

Acer shrugs, heaving a sigh as he allows his rigid posture to release into a slouch, “Whichever. I don’t mind staying here if you’d like me to, but Watson might like to visit with Poppy and Nova.”

His lie is obvious. Acer’s two dogs aren’t exactly high on Watson’s playdate list and we both know it. Even if it weren’t for his gaze flickering hesitantly over the old building we used to visit every lunch break, I could tell he doesn’t feel comfortable in Riven’s old abode. Hardly anyone ever visits here anyway, but I can tell how uncomfortable he is with the idea of staying in the house of one of his former mentors and friends. I take in a breath and nod, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Acer nods and, after a while of silence, rises from his seat and tells me that he’ll see me before I leave. I doubt he will. After my little spot on television, I’ll be whisked away to the train station and dragged off to District 12 where I’ll, no doubt, meet with Royce. All the same, I allow Acer’s short-lived embrace before handing him a treat for Watson and watching them go. Watson will be happy in the expansive field that surrounds Acer’s family’s house and, in the long run, I suppose that’s all that should matter, but as Acer climbs onto the saddle and I wave goodbye to them both, I hope this bullshit tour doesn’t last long.

Once they’re out of sight, I make sure to lock up the house and leave the key above the doorframe before making the long walk to the Village. Thankfully, no cars line the street, ready to take me to the train station, but I doubt it will be long before they are, so I make my way inside and up to my room to get ready for their arrival. The room glows purple from the LED lights embedded in the ceiling and under my bed, but I turn them off before getting a set of clothes to change into and heading to the bathroom to clean up. By the time I’m done in the bathroom, I find Mick sitting on my bed, awaiting my arrival. While I’m gone, she’ll be taking my room the way she did when I was in the arena, so I suppose it shouldn’t be much of a surprise to find her in the room we occasionally share.

With a sigh, I ask, “Shouldn’t you be hiding out somewhere until everyone leaves?”

“Maybe I should,” she shrugs, “but I wanted to see you before you go.”

“Well, you’ve seen me,” I state plainly as I toss my towel into the laundry basket. “Now you can go.”

Mick lets out a heavy sigh as she shakes her head, “What could I possibly have done now to piss you off?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me for the last week?”

Meeting her gaze is easier when I’m not wearing glasses. I can’t see the hurt that radiates from her. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy with what?” she fires in return. “Perfecting your list of lies to spew for the rest of Panem?”

“Who pissed in your cereal this morning?” I scoff, taking a seat at the vanity that came with my room and brushing my hair out. “It’s not even ten and you’re being a bitch already.”

“Says the one who’s been blowing off all of her friends for the last month or so.”

“As I said, I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to take five minutes to stop by Della’s birthday party?”

My brush freezes halfway through its swipe through my damp strands before continuing its glide. I roll my eyes, “Della’s party isn’t until next week, Mick. I’ll be gone by then.”

“It was last night,” Mick corrects, rising from her spot on my mattress and moving to stand behind me. “She moved it up just for you, remember?”

I set my brush down as I try to think over everything that’s happened recently. Most of my days are an indistinguishable haze of repetitiveness. Wake up, get dressed, hit the ice until sunrise, take care of Watson, go to school or work, stay at work until long after everyone has gone home, and collapse into sleep somewhere at Riven’s house. Half of the conversations I’ve had with people feel like muffled nonsense that’s been muddled together into one huge glob. If Della had, in fact, moved her party to before her birthday so that I could attend, I’d feel horrible. That could also explain why Acer was so determined to be in and out of the house earlier. With a shake of my head, I find Mick’s blurry eyes in the reflection of the mirror and say, “No, I don’t. Everything’s been a blur for a while now.”

With a sigh, Mick brings my hair to my back and begins threading it into an intricate, four-strand braid, gently telling me, “I know things have been difficult since the Games ended. It was for me too. I just wish you would let us help you recover some sense of normalcy.”

I hold back on rolling my eyes, instead focusing on a small smudge I’ve yet to clean from the mirror and sighing, “I don’t think I’ll get that normalcy back for a long time, Mick. Things won’t be normal again now that Riven’s gone.”

Mick’s hands stall mid-braid and, when I look back up at her reflection, I find that she has a glossy, faraway look in her eyes. She snaps out of it without me saying a word and takes in a deep breath as she returns to the task at hand, “Is that why you’ve been so distant with me lately? Because of Riven?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I hadn’t taken your place before, you wouldn’t have been reaped last year and Riven wouldn’t have volunteered for Oliver,” she explains. “If I hadn’t stepped in, Riven would still be alive.”

As she ties off my hair with a tiny rubber band and drapes it over my shoulder, I slowly shake my head, “If you hadn’t volunteered for me, I would be dead.” Mick opens her mouth to argue, but I beat her to it, “Don’t say that I would have been fine. I had no prior training and would have been a teary-eyed mess; I would’ve been lucky to make it through the bloodbath. Don’t beat yourself up over something that we can’t change.”

She seems to think it over before pressing, “Is that why you’ve been upset with me, though?”

“No,” I brush off quickly. “I went through all of the ‘should’ve, could’ve, would’ve’s a long time ago. I was mad back then, but I’m not now. I’ve just been trying to focus on what I have to do now that it’s time for the Victory Tour. Visiting the home districts of all the dead tributes and giving some half-assed, Capitol-designed speech feels like I’m the one rubbing salt into their wounds, and the idea of going to ritzy parties in the Capitol to emphasize how in love Royce and I are and how little we care about the deaths of the other twenty-two tributes, is eating at me.” When the room is silent for a while, I close my eyes, take in a breath, and sigh, “I’m not upset anymore. I just have a lot going on that nobody else understands.”

Mick’s hands land on my shoulders, her thumbs rubbing circles into my skin as she claims, “My parents would. They’ve been through it.”

“Maybe, but they’ve been so busy getting everything ready for the tour and I’ve barely seen them anyway.” With a slow sigh, I tack on, “They also didn’t have to worry about showing their love off to the nation in the hopes of keeping up appearances.”

Her eyebrow raises as she questions, “I thought you and Royce genuinely love each other?”

“We do,” I nod. “Well, at least I know that I love him.”

“Why not ask him how he feels?”

With an almost sheepish grin, I admit, “Because I haven’t talked to him since I was over at your house and we talked with them in the basement.”

Mick sighs, an almost disappointed tone in her voice, “Viv, that was three weeks ago.”

“I’m aware.”

She shakes her head and pats my shoulders with a smile, “Well, you’ll see him soon enough and you’ll be able to ask him then.”

I hum in agreement and allow Mick to bring her arms around my shoulders in a hug. When I thank her for stopping by and apologize for being distant, she places a kiss on my temple and brushes it off with ease before placing a familiar, floral case on my vanity and heading somewhere to wait everything out. Checking inside the case, I find the spy-style glasses I had abandoned months ago sitting untouched in their case. Mick’s care for the spectacles is obvious as all of the cracks in the lenses have been taken care of and the paint has been touched up. I understand the meaning of her little gift; she wants me to wear them for the Victory Tour. I suppose it only makes sense for me to wear them as, according to Juliet, the glasses have become somewhat synonymous with my image as Royce’s bow did for him and the Romeo and Juliet novel did for us as a couple. There is an underlying message in Mick’s gift, a warning of sorts that she - and, presumably, my family - will be watching and listening as long as I wear them. A fleeting thought crosses my mind and I wonder whether Mick wishes to simply watch as though the tour were for herself or if the gift was simply given to keep me in check with my image and give me advice when I’m stammering through my speeches.

Once I’m alone again, I feel almost eerily at ease; as though the coiled tension in my shoulders has begun to ease at least a little. I have everything sorted out already. I don’t need to do anything other than wait for the prep team to arrive. I don’t have to worry about working on some talent to show off at the dinner parties we’ll be forced to attend in every district as I’m more than willing to bang around on the drums if they’ll allow me to do so. Royce won’t have to worry about that either as his little brother has made a vast array of artwork to show off in his stead. Bentley is quite a talented artist now that he’s gotten his hands on some of the Capitol’s best supplies and, after receiving more than a handful of his artwork as a gift for my birthday, I’m glad he’s been able to make good use of what they’ve given him. Bentley often makes an appearance in my video calls with Royce despite them being few and far between, and I never find myself wishing for him to leave the two of us alone. He’s befriended Abby and Olly quickly over the last six months and, despite never meeting in person, they seem to have big plans for world domination that, for some reason, also include the girl who won the year before me and Royce - Kona. Sometimes, I wonder if they’ll ever get to see those plans through.

The honking of horns and the roar of engines startle me from my thoughts and my gaze snaps to the window; my entourage must be here. Doors slam shut and I hear squeals of greeting downstairs as I try to straighten my posture and make myself look as though I’m excited to go on the trip. I faintly hear my mom tell someone where my room is and, before I know it, the door slides open, and the same trio who prepped me for the Games, files into my room with noises of excitement. Their first order of business is giving me hugs so tight that I can barely breathe, but then they allow me to sit back on the vanity stool and jump right into their work as they chatter on about whatever drama exists in their life with people I don’t know and places I couldn’t care less about. The last time they saw me was the birthday party that was thrown for me not long after the Games ended and, while I look remarkably unchanged, their appearances have differed substantially. Ambrosia’s lime color scheme has shifted to a pale blue and her eyebrows have been replaced with golden lines that twist around each other like the snakes on the hospital sign. Mink has kept his orange aesthetic, but his hair is now brown with a single section of orange swooping down over his right eye. Gleam has remained mostly the same apart from the white celestial tattoos that decorate her dark skin.

By the time they’ve finished preening me like a baby bird, they parade me downstairs where I find Juliet sitting with my parents, talking with them as though they’re old friends. She looks almost exactly the same as she did the last time I saw her; pin-straight blonde hair with crimson replacing what was once pink at the bottom, simple clothes, and a fluffy white coat to keep her warm in the icy winds that drift from Lake Michigan. Once she spots me, Juliet sets the teacup I don’t doubt my father made for her, on the coffee table and stands, welcoming my slamming hug with open arms. Juliet allows me to lead her back up to my room where she deposits a black bag of clothing for me to change into before sitting at the vanity and filling me in on what will happen next.

“Once the cameras get the shot of you walking outside, we’ll be on our way to the train,” Juliet claims, fiddling with the items I’ve scattered across the vanity table.

“What about my interview with Caesar?” I question, tugging a long-sleeved shirt over my head.

“They’ve rearranged things to account for the fact that there are now two victors and that they’re from different districts,” she explains, picking up the glasses Mick had left for me and trying them on. “You two won’t be having an interview with Caesar until you get to the Capitol.”

It makes sense, I suppose. There are a lot of things they’ll have to move around for us, but after all that the Capitol has done to us, it’s the least they could do. As I slide the zipper of my plaid pants into place, I ask, “Are we getting Royce and his group in Six or are they meeting us in District 12?” Juliet turns toward me with a smirk akin to Riven’s typical one - a sign that she knows something that I don’t. I feel my eyebrow raise past the ends of the bangs Gleam had fluffed over my forehead as I slowly ask, “What are you planning?”

With a shrug of feigned innocence, Juliet rises from her seat and grabs a coat from the bag before helping me into it. “Oh, nothing of importance. You’ll see it all come together sooner or later.”

Her riddled words make no sense, but as she slides my glasses onto my nose and checks my wrists for Riven’s bracelet, I don’t question her. If it’s as she says, I’ll find out eventually, so I take a deep breath and allow her one last embrace before she guides me downstairs. Halo shepherds us all around like lost sheep as the camera crew lists off what they need me to do. I bring them to the basement I converted into a music room and proudly show off all of my favorite instruments, even getting the chance to play a few of them before they take me off camera to record me simply reading off cards about each instrument and my love for it. Before long, I’m ushered back upstairs by Halo so the cameras can get shots of the music room without me around and I holler a warning that they better not touch my drum set or any of the guitar amplifiers as the door closes behind us. My siblings, Abigail and Oliver, are sitting in the kitchen, working on schoolwork, having been allowed out of school early. I have to wonder if Juliet gave them outfits in case the cameras find them as they both are dressed in clothing I’ve never once seen them in.

I know Oliver all too well and I can tell that, once the cameras are gone, those white pants won’t stay white for long. He’s far too clumsy and rambunctious for them to stay any shade of ivory. The prep team has gotten to him already if the fluffy quality of his hair is anything to go by, but he doesn’t seem to mind that nearly as much as he does the shirt. Olly tugs at the collar of his mint-colored button-down with a mumble of complaint, obviously uncomfortable in the stuffy, rigid fabric while Abby sits silently next to him, her legs swinging mindlessly under the island counter as she scribbles something onto the paper before her. Her pristine white dress is decorated with pale green dots and minuscule aventurine crystals have been woven into the crown of braids that surround her head. When they both take note of my presence, they smile, and Oliver kicks the chair across from him so I can take a seat with them.

Abby smirks, sliding her workbook across the table before asking, “You feel like helping me diagram sentences before you go?”

I roll my eyes and pick up the pencil in the book before sighing, “You do realize that I can’t help you cheat while I’m gone, right?”

“I know,” she says with a grin. “That’s why I’m getting what I can now.”

I make quick work of the last few problems before gliding the book across the table once again and helping Oliver correct his work. By the time I’ve finished, the camera crews have finished in the basement and are making their way through the house to the front where they’ll film me leaving the house and walking down the street. I don’t get the chance to say much of anything before being dragged to where Halo deems I should stand and wait for the cameras to be ready. The faint call of one of the camera crew calling me to come outside reaches my ears and, as everyone else dodges away from where the cameras will aim, I pull the door open and step onto the small porch, nearly slipping down the front steps as my boots catch on a patch of ice. 

For a moment, I’m unable to see much more than the pure white snow that glitters in the noontime sun, but I blink away the snow blindness and look around before my gaze settles on the person standing near the bottom of the stairwell, a small bouquet of purple and pink flowers in his hands and a beaming smile on his face. Realization takes a second to sink in, but once it has, a smile breaks onto my face and I propel myself down the steps until I’m able to launch myself at him. The flowers fall to the blanket of snow on the ground as his arms come around my waist and pull me inescapably close.

“What are you doing here?” I breathe, my words disappearing into steam in the cold, January air.

“Surprising you,” Royce chuckles, turning his head just enough to kiss my cheek. “Although, if you had answered my call this morning, you would have known already.”

“I wasn’t home,” I reply softly.

“I know,” he mutters into the fluffy collar of my coat, “but we’ll have plenty of time to catch up on the train.”

We separate after a moment and I slide my fingers between his before leading him down the street. The cameras turn off before we get too far and, all at once, we’re thrown into a whirlwind of chaos. We’re ushered into a car as everyone else follows behind us to the station in another car and, before we’re allowed to board, we say quick goodbyes to my family and the friends that make an appearance at the station. Once we’re around the table for a meal, Halo begins chirping about the plan for our visits and I try to drone her out by watching things fly past the windows. The last time Royce and I were on a train together, I was still riding the high from the Games - the adrenaline making me more willing to go home and see the people I missed. Now, six months later, I’m numb to any excitement the others may be trying to force down my throat. While I’m happy to see Royce and his team, I wish we could have seen each other under different circumstances. 

No matter how much Halo prattles on about being on our best behavior while the other escort sleeps on the couch or how often Kona brings up the delicious foods we’ll be trying in different districts or how many times I hear someone’s praises, I can’t help the fury that boils within me. Riven should be the one sitting here, being praised, not me. I didn’t do shit. He did everything in his power to keep us alive and all he’ll get in the end is some shitty plaque above his grave and a brief speech that one of us will have to read off of some cue card. I guess the old people back home were right. Life’s a bitch and then you die.

Royce gently nudges my calf under the table, sending me a curious, almost worried look, and although I realize that I’d been glaring blankly at my fork, I can’t bring myself to act as though I care. Instead, I minutely shake my head, tell everyone that I’m going to bed, and disappear down the hall before anyone can tell me to do otherwise. Mick tries to tell me something, but I pull the glasses off and toss them onto my mattress before taking some clothes from the closet and disappearing into the bathroom. Despite the frosted windows and snowy landscape outside the train, I let ice-cold water cascade over me, shocking me into reality at least a little. My breath hitches as my head thumps the tiled wall and I feel the overwhelming stress of the day roll off of me alongside the pelting water. Maybe this is what I needed - a shock to my systems to snap me out of the seemingly endless pit of depression I’d been trudging through for months now. 

By the time my fingers have wrinkled into raisins, regret has settled in and I feel the need to apologize to the others despite not really doing anything other than being antisocial. If anything, I should apologize to Mick for shutting her out and ignoring her. She’s been patient with me. Most of the others have. Butchy and Kona have been kind enough in our sparse phone calls, Royce seems understanding when I explain that I don’t feel up for idle chatter, and Mick’s parents are incredibly supportive when I need them to simply be present. Sometimes their kindness feels like it’s far more than what I deserve. When Mick gets the chance to talk with Butchy over the phone, he never forgets to ask how I’m doing and makes sure to call my house once he’s off the phone with the love of his life. Kona is similar, but her calls are direct and to the point, leaving me no room for small talk as she presses me for information and fills me in on things in her life. Royce always calls at the same time every Wednesday when he knows that we’re both free from our responsibilities, but while he takes his free time to be with his brothers, I fill mine with unnecessary work. I’d be a fool to think he didn’t notice that I’ve conveniently been away from home since our last little talk in Mick’s basement. Then, there’s Mack and Brady. Despite them living just across the street, it occasionally feels as though there’s an invisible chasm between us that keeps me on my side of the road. Then, Mick or my parents drag me over for a visit and it feels as though it’s just another day. Perhaps, to them, it is. Maybe I’m the only one who still feels trapped aboard the arena’s cruise ship.

From what I’ve heard from Juliet in our occasional calls, they’ve opened the arena to the public already. She had to be there for a mock christening and rambled on about it for hours while I allowed the phone to sit idly on my desk. I suppose the room Royce, Riven, and I stayed in was a big hit, but a few eager zillionaires tried to buy out the library and theatre for the entirety of the maiden voyage. Honestly, I was sort of hoping the damn ship would sink. To my dismay, it still sails the ocean; the stink of death and the blood-tinted linoleum still looming in its corridors under layers of bleach and fresh carpeting.

Shutting off the water, I quickly dry myself and change into some plush pajamas before stepping into my room and taking my glasses from the blanket they landed on. At first, I hear nothing, but after a while, a soft buzzing reaches my ears and I know Mick is there. Taking in a slow breath, I mutter, “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Is the stress getting to you?” When I nod, Mick hums and continues, “I figured as much. Are you better now?”

“I think so.” 

“Good,” Mick says. “Your boyfriend has been worried about you.”

Confusion brushes me as I ask, “How do you know he’s worried?”

“Miles,” she says simply. “I guess Royce has been talking with him over the earbuds.”

I hum and allow silence to claim the air before glancing toward the door. Maybe I should go talk with him, quell his worries. I don’t need to imagine how hard this is for him; I know how hard it is for me. We both lost people from our home districts in the Games and here I am, acting like I’m handling everything on my own despite having people around me to support me through the Victory Tour. Maybe Royce has already come to this conclusion, reaching out to his mentors and stylist with the ease of someone who isn’t afraid of the thousands, if not millions, of people we’ll be in front of. Maybe he’s more relaxed because he’s actually taken the time to talk with them and learn what to expect. Alternatively, I’ve done nothing but sulk and lock myself in my room. I’m a mess compared to him.

I break the silence by asking, “Do you know where he-”

“He’s with Butchy,” Mick interrupts. “Miles is letting me listen in. It would probably be best if you leave them alone for now.”

Of course, it would be. Taking a deep breath, I nod silently and make my way to the end of my bed where I previously tossed the little bag of belongings I wanted to keep with me. I take the book the president gave me and slide between the sheets of my bed, keeping one of the lamps beside my bed on so that I can read in peace. It takes me little time to get absorbed into the stories at hand and, when I finally spare a glance at the clock to my left, I find many hours have passed. Deciding to at least try to get some sleep before Halo’s peppy voice will tell me we’re almost in District 12, I close the book and set it aside, pushing myself further under the covers until my head hits the pillow. Time crawls until my eyelids are finally heavy enough to lure me into sleep, but it feels as though only a few minutes have passed when a knock on my door rouses me and I have to hear a chirpy voice exclaim something about another “big, big day” that I just can’t feel excited for.

I don’t bother changing into something new before making my way to the dining car. This time, when Royce sits across from me, he places an open hand on the table and waits until my palm meets his before sending me a gentle smile. The circles he rubs into my hand keep me distracted from most of the idle chatter around the table; Juliet and Carrie’s ramblings about clothing and makeup, Halo’s unnaturally perky drillings about proper posture and memorizing cue cards, and Mick’s parents’ talk of the typical customs in District 12. District 12 is the poorest of all the districts and there isn’t exactly much to see, but, if Kona’s brief statement is true, the people don’t particularly care about what we say, so much as they do about when they’ll be able to go home. It could be quick and simple, if all goes well. 

Breakfast ends all too soon and Royce and I are separated after he presses a quick kiss to the back of my hand. I find out that I’ll be given the full treatment by my prep team who, at first, are all knocking back cups of coffee and swallowing brightly colored pills that they claim will keep them awake. Once every hair is ripped from every follicle of skin that isn’t my head and I’m preened to perfection, Juliet takes the place of my prep team and gets me dressed in what she claims are the least flashy things in the garment car - a black unitard that covers me in black fleece from my neck to my ankles, a gray skirt that ends an inch or two above my knees, boots that come just below my knees, and a forest green, plaid, dress coat that covers from my shoulders to the edge of my skirt. When I ask her why I’m dressed so plainly, she smiles and tells me that it might make the people of District 12 feel more comfortable if I’m dressed as simply as they are.

After she decides that we’re ready, we go back to the viewing car and sit around while Halo and her fairly hungover counterpart go over the day’s program with us. While some of the bigger districts will give us a ride through the city, the smaller districts are less likely to. Where District 12 is small and fairly centralized in one little area, we won’t be riding anywhere. When the train finally pulls into the station, there is a small welcoming committee consisting of the previous victor, the mayor, and the mayor’s family. We have no time to look around at the building or much of the surrounding area, but I suppose there isn’t much to look at in the first place. They lead us into the Justice Building, an old, concrete building that stands out like a sore thumb against the backdrop of small houses and tiny shops that line the area. Royce and I are practically attached at the hip as we’re ushered to the front entrance of the building and kept behind a set of large doors. Someone clips a microphone to Royce’s coat before doing the same to me and I feel a wave of icy panic wash over me as I try to keep my breathing in check. I hate crowds, I hate being on stage, and I hate having to give speeches of any sort, but as Royce sends me a reassuring grin, I remember that I’m not alone in this. I have someone to pick up where I leave off and help me when I need it.

The mayor introduces us as the massive doors before us open with deep, groaning creaks. There is no roof or walls on the makeshift stage to shield us from the whipping winds of the Appalachian mountains, but it doesn’t bother me all that much. If anything, it resembles the waterfront winds back home. The crowd that’s gathered for us gives their typical applause and, understandably, none of the fanfare that the Capitol gives. At the bottom of the stage, a platform has been constructed for the families of the fallen tributes who stand in front of their tribute’s photograph with sullen, sunken-in faces. It’s obvious that Ash’s father and younger sister are malnourished, but with how small the little girl is, I doubt she’ll be able to ask for tessera for another two or three years. Fleetingly, I wonder how long they’ll live. On the other hand, Orchid’s family of four siblings and both parents look as though we won’t have to worry about them collapsing to the floor, dead, anytime soon. 

The applause dies out as the mayor takes to the front of the stage to give a speech in our honor, then a pair of young girls in only faintly stained, white dresses come up to us with bouquets bigger than our heads. As will be customary for all of the even-numbered districts, Royce gives the first part of our scripted speech and, when he gives my hand a quick squeeze, I find myself reciting half of the speech from memory. As we have no ties to either of the tributes, the mayor steps forward once I’m done with the speech and presents us each with a plaque so large I have to hand my flowers back to the little girl for the time being. After a while, we’re ushered back inside the building and brought to a car outside the back that brings us to the mayor’s mansion. The house is around the size of my house in Victor’s Village, but as they typically only have one victor to host, I notice the mayor seems worried about where to room everyone. To ease his mind, I suggest that Royce and I could share, which Royce agrees to fairly quickly. We’re escorted to a room about the size of my room back home and we thank the mayor before closing the door and taking a seat on the end of the mattress.

After a while of sitting in silence, Royce speaks up, “You know, I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say in a month.”

“I know,” I breathe. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“There isn’t much to say,” I reply. “I worked myself to oblivion all day, worked on my speeches all night, and repeated the same shitty routine every day. I barely left enough time to say hello to my family or eat, let alone sit down and talk on the phone for hours.”

“Depression’s a bitch,” Royce mutters.

“Yeah,” I scoff. Silence makes the air between us feel like a thick cloud of fog, but I try to breach it with a soft question, “What about you?”

Royce shrugs, “Pretty much the opposite, actually. I don’t have to work or go to school anymore, so I stayed home with Miles and read books all day.”

We’re opposites. He stays home, doing practically nothing all day, and enjoys it while I work myself into an early grave because I have nothing to do at home. I wonder how he can do it so easily. Ever since I was able to work, I have. I like having things to do, even if I’m not using my activities to fight off my spiking and ebbing depression. How can Royce be so easygoing and relaxed doing nothing? Maybe it’s just the way he copes. After a while, Royce goes to take a shower and I wash up once he’s done, but by the time I come back to the room, he’s nowhere to be seen and all that’s left is a small note telling me that he’s going to Carrie’s room to get ready. At the bottom of the paper is a small drawing of a bunch of grapes and a simple question, “What did the green grape say to the purple grape?”

Curiously, I flip over the note, expecting an answer on the other side, but find it to be blank. Confusion slowly floods my veins and my head tilts ever so slightly to the side as I think about the answer to his question. It’s obviously the start of a joke, but I know I’ve never heard it before, so I can’t seem to come up with an answer. Maybe it’s a joke from his home district. I suppose I won’t know until I see him again. A knock on the door stalls my curiosity and, as I fold up the paper, I call out, “Who is it?”

“Juliet,” the voice replies. “Can I come in?”

I look around for somewhere to store the note before deciding I could simply tuck it into my bra for the time being. Letting Juliet into the room feels like I’ve opened the gates and allowed a whirlwind of chaos to invade my space. She allows the prep team to pin most of my hair back from my face and cover my face in delicate lines of makeup before lacing me into an intricately patterned, pale blue dress that is held up by three thin straps on either of my shoulders. As we’re on our way out of the room, Juliet stops me to show me my reflection in the mirror by the door. She adjusts a few things before smiling at our reflections.

Resting her hands on my arms and her chin on my shoulder, Juliet asks, “Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous, as always,” I say.

Juliet’s eyes find mine and she sighs, “Well, how about we see how it looks with a smile?” To her, it must come across as a simple request for me to enjoy myself, but I take it as a subtle reminder that there will be cameras watching my every move and that, if I don’t look happy at all times, it could spell trouble. I think about how, in about two weeks, the president will announce the dissolution of the Hunger Games. Once he does that, the chance of me and Royce being able to live mostly normal lives could very well be possible. The thought alone is enough to bring a smile to my face and, once it’s there, Juliet squeezes me close and chirps, “That’s my girl!” 

She all but shoves me out the door and, before I get the chance to do more than glance Royce’s way, Halo is pulling me to a spot behind our mentors where she’s arranged for us to enter the dinner. Royce is by my side in a matter of seconds and takes my hand in his without needing to be told to do so. As we’re last in the line, we have to wait for everyone else to be shown off to the dinner party before we can go in, so we have the opportunity to either stand in silence or talk. For the first time in months, I decide to speak first, glancing toward Royce before softly asking, “So, what did the green grape say to the purple grape?”

I watch a cheesy grin spread across Royce’s face as he softly chuckles, “Breathe, you idiot!”

My snort of laughter is poorly disguised behind a cough as Halo turns toward us with wide eyes. I wave her off with a hand and feign another cough as a light from above shines down on her and Royce’s escort, Neptune. With the arm Royce has held captive, I jab my elbow into his side and let out a breath of a laugh, “That was so dumb!”

“Maybe,” Royce shrugs with a smile, “but it got you to laugh.”

A childlike giggle fights its way out before the truth of his sentence hits me. The implication is there. Royce knows that I need something to get me through this tour and, if everything else he’s tried isn’t working, maybe stupid, Riven-esque jokes will. With a grin, I concede, “It did, thank you.” Royce nods as, one by one, the prep teams begin their entrance to the dinner party. After a moment, I meet his gaze and confess, “I don’t think I’ve laughed much at all since we got back from the Games.”

“I didn’t either for a while,” Royce admits, “but I wasn’t as attached to Lotus as you were to Riven. She wasn’t family to me. I figured making you laugh would be a good first step to help you get through at least some of it.”

He’s put a lot of thought into this. I must have really worried him. Taking in a breath, I smile and say, “Well, if you keep it up, you might just get there.”

Royce beams, bringing our joined hands up so that he can kiss the back of mine before saying, “That’s the plan.”

A light from above hits us and we share a smile before descending the steps. The night feels as though it flies by with all of the food, conversations, and dancing we do. At one point, Kona helps us sneak out so that Royce and I can have a cup of dessert together in secret, only to be discovered by one of Royce’s prep team workers. In the end, we return to the mayor’s house, and Royce and I barely manage to say a sentence to each other before sleep takes us. In the morning, we’re paraded to the train where we fall into a sort of routine. This time, however, I feel more at ease. In the morning, after breakfast, Royce and I sit together and read on the couch, both of us reading our gifted books at our own speed. After a few hours, Kona enters the room and we greet her as she perches herself on a chair across from us, watching us curiously. When Royce asks her if she’s alright, Kona simply nods and asks us why we aren’t rehearsing our speech for Erica’s family. I reply that I practiced it so much that I could do it in my sleep and Royce gives a similar excuse that Kona accepts before allowing us to continue reading.

I try to make a point to glance her way when I feel her eyes on me, but once it starts to feel awkward, I ask, “Do you want to read with us?”

Kona blinks a few times, her gaze settled more on the book in my hands than on me, and hastily shakes her head as she tears her gaze away from the book and meets my eyes, “Huh? Uh, no, thank you. Sorry, I just keep spacing out.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Royce questions.

With a nod, Kona shrugs and confides, “This whole tour is setting me on edge even though I’m not the one on stage.” After a pause, she sighs, “No wonder Lela had a hard time doing this last year.”

Kona doesn’t stick around much longer, choosing to distract herself by messing with Butchy - a favorite pastime of hers. Royce and I read until we’re told that we’re close to the border of District 11. Royce and I move to the windows to get a better look at the place and watch as huge fields of cattle graze in places I imagine were once covered in huge buildings that touched the clouds. From what I’d read in the old books that line the walls of Bissette’s family home over the last few months, the southeastern part of Panem used to be home to sprawling farms in select areas, but also had collections of large cities. I wonder which former state we’re in; perhaps one of the Carolinas or a fun one to say like Mississippi. The idea of figuring out where we are is fleeting as the train slows slightly and a large metal fence - at least thirty, maybe forty feet high - comes into view. At the top are thick coils of barbed wire that make the thin, ten-foot-high fence back home look like a baby gate. The base of the fence is lined with humongous metal plates that remind me of the platforms in the arena, only more terrifying. It’s as though a single touch will end in people having to scrape your remains off every building in a mile-wide radius. Then, as though those precautions weren’t enough, I see the watchtowers. They’re spaced apart evenly and manned with armed guards, but I have to wonder if any of them have ever shot someone before or if everyone in District 11 has been too scared for so long to even try getting close.

“We wouldn’t get away with shit here,” Royce breathes.

“I would’ve been killed years ago,” I agree. “I wonder how Erica got by.”

“With how quickly she says what she’s thinking, I imagine it wasn’t easy.”

I have to agree, but as we pass the fence and watch as seemingly endless rows of crops appear out of seemingly nowhere, I don’t say more. People of all ages, even the elderly and children too young to be reaped, are out in the blistering heat, wearing straw hats to keep the sun from their eyes, and take a moment to watch as the train passes by. Small communities of houses that look dilapidated and barely standing show signs that someone must live there, but the homes are empty as everyone seems to be busy in the fields. While the population of District 11 isn’t close to either of our home districts, the sheer vastness and intimidation of it is startling. 

Royce and I are pulled from the windows by our stylists and made to change into cooler clothing. This time, I’m handed a pair of strappy sandals, some loose, tan shorts, and a fringed shirt that hangs loosely over me. Beige tones are a staple, it seems. The only pops of color we receive are our matching, orange necklaces and Riven’s bracelet, but I doubt any of the residents will care much for our appearances. The prep team weaves my hair into braids that wrap around my head, keeping all of my hair off of my neck for the duration of our time in the sweltering sun. As the train pulls to a stop in the station, Royce and I step out, greeted by only a fleet of Peacekeepers who bring us to the back of a set of armored trucks. Royce tells me to hold on as the trucks give bumpy rides and, as we pull away, he brings an arm around my shoulders to keep me steady as we jerk around on the rocky, sand-covered roads.

The procedure feels familiar as we arrive at the back entrance of the Justice Building and are paraded inside. While the smell of something being cooked fills the air, it isn’t nearly enough to mask the stench of mildew and decay. We don’t have time to think as the anthem plays and the mayor announces us. I didn’t know we were late. As the doors open, we’re given a light push from Halo and step out onto the stage. It starts off easy; we step out onto the shaded veranda and make our way toward where the sun beats down on the applauding crowd. The white, marble stairs do little to repel the heat and I faintly worry about the bottoms of my sandals melting from the heat. As my eyes adjust to the intense sunlight, I hear the applause and faint cheering from the crowd - an unusual sound in this district.

My eyes adjust after a moment and I can tell from the view we got on the train that the packed town square is just a small fraction of the population. The tributes’ families stand to either side of us like they did in 12, but Erica’s family are genuinely smiling our way while her teammate, Kiran’s family stands stoically to the side. Erica’s family - her mom and grandparents standing with a boy who I presume is around the same age as Erica was - are smiling at us and clapping for our arrival, seemingly happy to see us even though our victory symbolizes the loss of their daughter, granddaughter, and sister. Just like before, the applause dies out, the mayor gives a speech, we get bouquets from two small children, and, this time, I start the speech. Once Royce finishes his part, I begin the personal statement that I wrote during one of my late-night work sessions. Our gratitude for Erica, her kindness, and her determination, must shine through as the smiles on her family’s faces only grow. Royce talks about it being a debt we can never repay and, though he beats around the topic with ease, he mentions how Erica would have won if it hadn’t been for Serena. Then, the time comes for something I’d been worried about for a while now - our promise. Royce and I had talked about it ages ago when we first began typing out our comments to the families, but never passed it through Halo or, well, anyone else, for that matter.

“While we know it won’t replace your loss in any way,” I begin, turning toward Erica’s family, “Royce and I would like to give you a token of our appreciation for Erica and all that she did.”

“We would like to give your family a month of our winnings every year for the rest of our lives,” Royce finishes.

As the crowd fills the silence with murmurs of disbelief, we watch Erica’s family as their smiles turn to slack-jawed, surprised expressions. What we’ve done has never been offered before, even by those who were close to other tributes in previous Games. The magnitude of what we’ve done will shock a lot of people, perhaps even the president. It may not even be legal, but the offer is there and, if the rest of Panem sees it, they’ll have no choice but to allow it. One month of a victor’s winnings can easily provide for a family, with some to spare. They won’t go hungry for as long as we live.

The rest of our time in District 11 goes by faster than I thought it would. The dinner at the Justice Building is practically the same as the one we had in the mayor’s mansion in 12, but this time, the families have been invited and I’m allowed to get to know the tributes from their families’ views. Instead of being housed in any mansion, we’re brought back to the train to keep up the tight schedule. That night, I take a shower to rid myself of the sweat I’d earned in the heat of District 11 and, after consulting with Mick via my glasses, she warns me that District 10 is just as humid and unforgiving.

“You should talk with Kona,” she suggests as I dry my hair the old-fashioned way - with a towel. “Since her tour was last year, she could have some good insight as to what to expect.”

“You think she would be up for it?” I ask. “I don’t want her to relive things if they bother her.”

Mick snorts, “Kona is a strong little shit. She just about talked my ear off about the tour when she got back. She’ll be fine, trust me.”

Giving a short nod, I toss my towel onto the end of my bed and make my way to the door of my room. Just as I press the button to slide it open, I find a hand in my face, poised to knock. The hand freezes and the uniformly trimmed, turquoise nails slowly pull away as Kona takes a step back with an intrigued grin. “Can you, like, see through walls or something with those glasses?”

A chuckle escapes me as I shake my head, “I was actually just on my way to find you.”

Her head tips to the side, revealing the pastel array of colors she’s streaked her hair with. “Me? Why?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I say with a grin, leaning against the door frame.

“I was seeing if you wanted to check out the viewing car at the back of the train,” Kona explains, nodding her head toward the cars I had yet to venture to. “The stars always look way cooler back there. Now, what were you coming to me for?”

“I just wanted to ask you about how your tour went last year.”

Kona rolls her eyes with a sigh, “It was a bunch of bullshit, if you ask me, but it would probably be for the best if we went somewhere more private before I go into too much detail.”

Without allowing me to offer her a chance to come in, Kona turns on her heel and stalks off toward the back of the train, forcing me to follow close behind. We walk in silence past a room of computers where Capitol workers are keeping a close eye on a series of cameras. They quickly close the door as we pass, keeping the camera locations a secret as Kona presses a small gold button and the door to the viewing car slides open. I look around at the high glass walls that make up the last car as Kona takes a seat, watching me almost expectantly from the plush cushions against the back wall. I take a seat and ask, “So, you’ve been back here before?”

She nods, “On my tour. It’s the one place on the train that has no cameras.”

Her meaning becomes crystal clear. Kona wanted me to come back here without fear of being heard by anyone else. She must have had something on her mind that she felt needed to be asked without anyone else interfering or knowing. I take the seat next to her and sit sideways so that we’re eye-to-eye before asking, “What did you really bring me back here for?”

Kona’s forest green eyes turn piercing as she asks, point-blank, “Is your friend really dead, or is he ‘dead’ like Mick and Miles are.”

The bluntness with which she asks feels like a slap to the face. She certainly holds nothing back and, ultimately, I appreciate that. “I don’t know,” I sigh. “There are loads of things that just don’t add up, but at the same time, I think I would have known something by now if Riven was truly alive.”

“But you don’t think he’s dead?”

“I don’t want to think he is.”

“What’s keeping the hope alive for you?” Kona presses. “If you still hold onto the idea that Riven is alive, there must be a reason.”

After thinking for a moment, I come to an easy conclusion, “After I killed Lexi and the cannons went off that day, I heard him call out for me.”

Kona’s eyebrow lifts as she asks, “Couldn’t that have been Royce?”

I shake my head firmly, “I know Riven’s voice. It’s very different from Royce’s.”

A grin takes over Kona’s face as she says, “In that case, he must be alive.”

“How can we be sure?” I ask. “It’s been six months already. Shouldn’t he have been home by now?”

“Not necessarily,” Kona claims with a small shake of her head, moving to sit cross-legged on the couch. “If the Capitol took Riven out of the arena while he was still alive, he would probably have to go through a lot of testing and questioning before the thought of releasing him even crossed their minds.”

Kona continues rambling, but her voice fades into the noise of the train whizzing down the tracks as I think over her words. In a way, it makes sense. If Riven was, in fact, alive when he was taken out, there would be a lot of confusion on everyone’s part. Once he was fully healed of his injuries, Riven would be questioned mercilessly by the Capitol’s highest-ranking assholes until they would be able to claim he had nothing to do with it. If Riven is alive, that means President Harmon must know. Maybe, in turn, Juliet would know. She never said anything to me, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know. I’ll just have to ask her. Maybe she’ll be my next target.

Kona snaps me back to reality by stating, “Besides, the president likes really elaborate puzzles. It wouldn’t surprise me if he knows about Riven being alive and is waiting for you to figure it out before releasing him.”

“What do you mean?” I ask quickly.

She stalls for a moment at my question before shrugging and admitting, “I saw the book you and Royce were reading earlier and I thought it looked like this really thick book the president gifted me after my Games ended. I read it over and over until I found that he was talking about people coming back from the dead. When I saw him at the end of the tour, he asked if I’d solved it yet and, when I told him I did, he said it was his way of telling me that he knew they were alive and that he knew I would figure it out sooner or later.”

“Is it the same book?”

“I don’t have it with me, but I think it might be,” Kona explains as I push myself to the edge of the couch. “Mine was about this detective guy who fakes his death and then visits his friend who writes about him.”

Thinking back to the book sitting dormant in the bag I’d discarded on the floor before the train departed from home, I hesitantly ask, “Was it Sherlock Holmes, by any chance?”

Kona’s eyes light up as a smile breaks out on her face. Excitedly, she nods, “Yeah, that’s it!”

Thumping my head back against the glass, I run a hand through my hair as I breathe, “I can’t believe he was testing us.”

Kona smirks, letting out a chuckle, “I can’t believe you never figured it out. I thought the people in District Three are supposed to be super geniuses or something.”

“Believe me, not all of us are,” I say with a small smirk. “Besides, all he said was that it was his favorite story.”

“He never hinted that you should look more into it?”

To be honest, I’ve tried everything in my power to not think back on that day, but as I recall the meeting with the president, the two of us standing awkwardly before him as he handed us the boxes the books came in, I distinctly remember him saying, “Once the celebrations are over and you’ve made yourselves comfortable in the villages, take some time to read through those, and don’t hesitate to give me some feedback on what you think needs to be changed.”

“He wanted us to read things over before the tour and give him our opinion on what needed changing,” I mutter to Kona.

Her nails faintly scrape my arm as she slaps it with the back of her hand, shooting me a disbelieving stare. “That must have been the riddle for you to solve! He never asked me for my opinion, just gave me a note with what stories to focus on and said that he wanted me to solve the puzzle ‘as it related to the people around me’. He must want you or Royce to tell him that you guys want Riven back!”

“Do you really think that’s what he wants?” I ask.

Once again, Kona’s eyebrow lifts into her bangs as she skeptically questions, “Do you not?”

“I want to think that’s what he meant, but-”

“No buts,” Kona interrupts. “He wouldn’t have given you and Royce the same book as me if he didn’t want us to get the same answer.”

Before I can doubt myself any further, Kona rises from her seat and tugs me to my feet, shoving me toward the door. “Where are we going?” I ask. 

“To talk to Butchy about it,” she replies. “He helps me and Miles when we need it, so I figured we could ask him what his thoughts are on the idea and go from there.”

The thought of bursting into Butchy’s room unexpectedly, potentially interrupting a conversation he could be having with Mick or some of the people back in District 6, makes me uneasy. I barely know the man and, despite Kona having no issue with simply bursting through his door to pester him about things, I don’t feel like getting myself on his shit list. I dig my heels into the rug that lines the hallway and nervously ask, “What about asking Mick’s parents instead?”

“We can ask them after,” Kona replies, a strain in her voice as she tries to urge me forward. When I brace my hands on a nearby window ledge and refuse to move, Kona’s shoulder slams into my back, forcing me to stumble down the hall. Turning back to Kona with a glare, I find her smirking mischievously at me. She doesn’t say anything, merely lifts a hand and points off to my right. I turn and find that, just behind me, is the door to Butchy’s quarters. I turn back to Kona, jumping when she appears right before me, but before I can duck around her, a familiar voice calls out to me, stopping me in my tracks.

“Viv?” I stop, letting out a sigh of defeat before plastering a smile on my face and turning back to Royce who stands beside Butchy, looking confused. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Almost too quickly, I nod, but before I can say anything, Kona’s hand lands on my arm as she says, “We think we just figured something out, but we wanted Butchy’s opinion on it.”

Butchy steps into the hall and gestures toward his room, which Kona quickly pulls me into. I turn back just in time to see Butchy grab Royce by the wrist and pull him into the room before pressing the button to close the door. Kona urges me to sit on the end of the bed as Butchy pushes Royce to sit on my free side and asks, “What did you come up with?”

“The president gave Royce and me each a book when we were at the Victory Banquet,” I explain. Turning my gaze to Royce, I wonder, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve read over that thing almost four times, trying to read between the lines and see what he gave them to us for.”

“I’ve tried,” Royce sighs, “but I figured that it was just a gift, so I gave up and just started reading it for fun.”

“But it wasn’t just a gift?” Butchy questions.

Kona shakes her head, “He gave me the same book last year and told me to solve the puzzle in it.”

“Did you?” Royce asks, leaning forward so that he can see past me.

She nods, “The main character, Sherlock, dies in a fight against his enemy where they both fall off a cliff, into a waterfall, but they never find the bodies. After a year or so, the still living Sherlock goes to his friend’s house and explains that he faked his death.”

“So you think President Harmon gave that to you to show that he knew Mick and Miles were alive?” Butchy asks.

“He asked me about it at the party for my Victory Tour,” Kona explains. “When I talked to him, he said I got it right.”

Clearing my throat, I say, “Kona and I think he gave me and Royce the book for the same reason.”

“You think Riven is still alive?” Royce asks softly.

“I can’t be sure,” I reply, “but the way the president worded things makes me think that he’s got Riven in the Capitol and is just waiting for us to ask for him back.”

Butchy presses a hand to his forehead, takes a deep breath, and sighs, settling a firm gaze on us, “If what you’re saying is true and President Harmon potentially has Riven somewhere in the Capitol, you all need to be on your best fucking behaviors.”

Kona scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “I’m always on my best behavior.”

“That’s exactly what I mean, Kona,” Butchy scolds. “You need to act as though his life is on the line with every move you make. One wrong word, one toe out of line could result in his death if he isn’t already dead because of the stunt these two pulled earlier.”

As Kona argues back, Butchy’s words sink in and her voice fades into the nonsensical, high-pitched buzzing that fills my ears. The money we gave Erica’s family must have been a big deal. Was it a bad move? Could that have killed Riven? What if that was enough to force the president’s hand? We have no idea if that was legal or not or if we’ll get in some sort of trouble for what we’ve done. If what we did is against the rules, maybe they won’t just punish us, but they’ll also have it out for Erica’s family as they have no choice but to accept. Did I just sentence us all to a life of constant fear? My gaze falls to the floor and I feel the heat of Royce’s hand on mine, but nothing registers until I see a hand in front of my face that causes me to jerk back. Butchy quickly bats Kona’s hand away with one hand and takes my shoulder in another, gaining my attention as he says something, but it doesn’t register in my head.

“What?” I ask.

“Relax,” he instructs. “If you start worrying about things now, it will only eat at you while you’re on stage.”

Royce’s hand tightens on mine as I suck in a sharp breath, “We could kill Riven just by saying something wrong. How am I supposed to act with that knowledge in my head?”

Butchy shakes his head, “Right now, you need to act the way the Capitol wants you to.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” Royce questions.

“All they want is a show,” Butchy claims. “From now on, you two are distractions from reality. All of their stress, the people starving in the districts, and how, in just a few months, twenty-three more children will die.”

“So what do we do?” I ask.

“Give money to the families you’ve chosen, read the cards we give you, and remember that your ‘happily ever after’ is what everyone in the Capitol wants to see,” Butchy sighs. “The people in the districts don’t give a fuck about your love story - all they care about are their dead children - but the people in the Capitol think you’re the best thing in the world. Just like before the Games, your job now is to make them love you. Lay it on thick when we’re at those stupid parties, show off your love for everyone to see, but make sure to show the people in the districts that you are sincere about their losses.”

“You two have good odds in most of the districts,” Kona says thoughtfully. “You have almost half of the districts covered with your two and the friends you made in One, Eleven, and Seven, if you want to count the girl’s temporary alliance. The people in Five might have good opinions of you since you let their people go and, if you take out the Career districts since they’re freaks of nature who actually like the Games, all you really have to worry about are the next three districts - Ten, Nine, and Eight.”

For once, I see the serious side of the playful teenager I’d gotten to know fairly well over the last few months. As odd as it is to see, I see a gleam of pride in Butchy’s eyes as he smiles and teases, “Someone’s beginning to think like a mentor.”

Kona meets his gaze with a look of disgust and a fake shiver, “Ugh, I know! I hate it!”

Buthcy chuckles and I have to laugh along as Royce joins him. With a shake of his head, Butchy turns back to us and says, “She’s actually right. Most of the other districts have something to like about you. As long as you can get through the next few districts, you’ll be fine. Just keep up appearances and you’ll be at the Capitol before you know it.”

I give a nod and we go our separate ways. Before long, I’m staring up at the ceiling, wondering how far we are from District 10. After a while of contemplating everything aloud so that Mick can hear me, she tells me to take my glasses off and go to sleep. I take the glasses off and set them aside before rolling onto my side and waiting for sleep to claim me. The next three days are an indistinguishable round of dinners, ceremonies, and train rides that all feel the same. District 10 has more cows than people and we have to act as though the overpowering stench of manure doesn’t bother us in the slightest as we give our speech and are given a short tour of the area before being taken to the mayor’s house for dinner, dancing, and long-winded conversations with the district’s previous victors. District 9 is much the same as District 11 was although they have far fewer Peacekeepers watching over them and the fields are filled with wheat and other grains in place of the crops grown in 11. They give us a ride through their district, allowing us to explore one of their mills before bringing us back to the mayor’s house for a repeat of the day before. District 8 is where things start to feel different. The district is covered in factories where they make fabrics and clothing for the entirety of Panem, but even the citizens are clothed in bright patterns. There isn’t much in terms of greenery and the place reeks of industrial fumes, but the people treat us well and we’re greeted by a cheering crowd who seem genuinely happy to see us. It’s a jolting comparison from the welcomes we had been getting.

When we board the train that night, I find myself in the viewing car, watching the mountainous buildings disappear into the distance as the others talk in the living area a few cars away. Once I can no longer see them, I let out a sigh and rest my head against the window. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. The idea of seeing Lexi’s picture and potential family members has been eating at me. I’m still pissed that she tried to kill Riven, but because she was our ally, do I still give her money? I doubt Jade’s family needs financial aid from us, but Lexi’s just might. The back-and-forth of it all has been bothering me and I’m sure almost anyone who looks at me on the train can tell. Juliet’s time with me has been spent in near-silence these last few days, but I’ve seen the way she watches me, almost hesitant to say anything. Royce is one of the few who continually cracks at the walls I’ve thrown up, giving me shitty jokes every day just to make sure I keep smiling. While I love his jokes, I think we both know they’d land better if they came from Riven.

A faint throb spreads across my forehead like a band and I don’t even bother looking when the door to the room opens. With a sigh, I grumble, “I’ll go to bed soon, I promise.”

“I was just going to ask if you’d mind some company, but I guess that works too.”  

I tilt my head just enough to see Juliet as she perches herself next to me. “I thought you were Mick’s parents telling me off for staying up late again.”

Juliet shakes her head with a small giggle, “I think that would be a bit hypocritical of me to say since I’m also awake at this hour.”

We sit and watch as stars captivate the sky above us. In a few hours, the sun will rise and we’ll be shown off to District 7. From the corner of my eye, I spare a glance at Juliet and wonder if she might have some insight to the issue at hand. I wanted to talk with her, ask her about Riven, but we haven’t talked much at all for a few days. Now could be a good time. Clearing my throat, I mutter, “I’m sort of glad you came.”

Juliet’s smile broadens as she turns sideways in her seat, “Oh, yeah? How come?”

I take in a breath, meet her gaze, and firmly say, “I think we need to talk.”

Her smile falters and panic glosses her eyes before she recovers and regains her perky composure. “We do, do we?”

“We do,” I say with a nod. “I have questions that I need answered before we get to District 7 and you’re the only person who might be able to help.” 

Juliet’s gaze flickers away from mine, almost as though she’s scanning the room for something before her eyes return to me. Her voice is soft and her gaze is hardened as she says, “I might have some answers, but there are some things that I’ve been sworn to secrecy on.”

“You’ll answer what you can?” I reiterate.

“I will.”

“Alright.” I know I have to word my questions differently to not worry Juliet, but I can’t help the first question that comes, “Do you know if Riven is still alive?”

Juliet’s wide, hazel eyes flit down to her lap and I see her swallow thickly before she turns her gaze to the trees that fly past us and mutters, “Next question, please.”

It would be obvious to anyone who knows Juliet that she knows something. The confident president’s daughter is quite a bit like me in the manner that we both hold nothing back and can’t lie to save our lives. Whatever it is that she knows, she must not be able to say. That’s fine. It’s still an answer for me. “Okay. Moving on,” I start, “do you think we should give Lexi’s family money?”

Thankful for the change in topic, Juliet turns back to me with a raised eyebrow. “Huh?”

A sigh falls from my lips as I shrug, “I mean, she was one of our allies before she tried to kill us and-”

“She wasn’t trying to kill you three,” Juliet interrupts.

Three. I have to wonder if her wording was a blunder or an indirect answer. Until I find out otherwise, there are only two of us alive, not three. However, I allow the conversation to gloss over her wording as I ask, “What do you mean?”

Juliet looks hesitant for a moment before restating, “She wasn’t trying to kill any of you.”

“How do you know?”

Juliet taps her ear and whispers, “The watch Riven wore in the arena was from your district. It was a communication device we shared. I was the person you heard talking with him when he went off on his own and ran into the pair from Five.”

As I recall the conversation Royce and I listened in on, my eyes widen. “That was you?!”

Sheepishly, Juliet nods. “We had tried to find a way to get you out of the arena, but there wasn’t a path out that we could find, so we had to go to plan B.”

“Which was?”

“Relying on someone who wasn’t afraid of getting their hands dirty,” Juliet claims. 

It takes me a moment to process the idea, but then it clicks. Lexi wasn’t bothered by the Hunger Games at all. If anything, she seemed calm. I think she was one of the very few people in the arena who didn’t give a shit if anything happened to them. “Lexi?” I wonder aloud.

She nods. “Lexi had mentioned to Jade on the first day of training that she wasn’t going to live long, even if she made it out of the arena. Riven overheard the conversation and befriended her, asking her if she would be willing to help if he needed her to. She agreed, of course, and the plan was set.”

“What was the plan?” I ask.

This time, Juliet says nothing. Instead, she takes right arm in her hand and draws a line horizontally across the middle of my forearm before pretending to pinch the skin she just marked and pulling something from it. My arm is still sensitive from where the tracker was extracted and a shiver spreads goosebumps across my skin as the truth dawns on me. Our trackers. Riven must have convinced Lexi to take our trackers out so that we would be brought out of the arena and back to the Capitol. She was trying to help us and I killed her. I killed an innocent tribute.

Juliet seems to understand where my thoughts are heading as she takes my hands in hers and says, “It’s alright. You didn’t know.”

“I still killed her, Juliet!” I squawk. “I still killed someone who was trying to help us.”

“As the other girls told you, Lexi was ready to die,” Juliet offers. “If you hadn’t done what you did, chances are, she would’ve been killed off by either of the girls she was close to. You are not at fault for a misunderstanding. You were defending Riven, Royce, and yourself from what you thought was an attack. I doubt she would’ve been upset with you for something like that.”

“I doubt her family will see it that way,” I breathe.

Juliet sighs, “Perhaps not, but that doesn’t change anything.”

In a way, she’s right. I can’t go back in time and rescue Lexi from the machete I threw. I can’t apologize to her family and explain that I had no clue it was part of a ploy to get us out of the arena. Things won’t change, but I know the truth. It won’t make up for their loss, but I can at least give them some money to help with things. I suppose, in a roundabout sort of way, Juliet answered my question of whether or not I should give Lexi’s family money. With a nod, I add that to my plans for District 7 and allow Juliet to bring me into a tight squeeze. As I lean out of her embrace, Juliet opens her mouth to speak, but the door slides open and cuts her off.

We find Royce standing in the open doorway, and confusion fills me as he lets out a long breath, a sigh of relief. Once his gaze settles on me, he softly asks, “Are you alright, Viv?”

I slowly nod before asking, “Are you?”

Royce’s eyes fill with recognition as he finally spots Juliet next to me and I watch as his face burns a faint shade of crimson. Juliet grins and rises from her seat before saying, “Well, I’ll let you two talk.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Royce offers awkwardly.

“I know,” Juliet claims, “but I should probably get to work organizing your outfits for tomorrow unless you feel like taking to the stage in nothing but your underwear.”

I let out a snort and say, “Goodnight, Juliet.”

She beams at us as she curtsies and declares, “Pleasant dreams, my dear victors!”

As soon as the door closes behind Juliet, Royce turns to me with a nervous chuckle, “Is she always like that?”

“Pretty much,” I shrug, rising from my seat. “So, what did you need me for?”

“What?” Royce wonders.

“You came in here, asking If I was alright,” I reiterate. “Were you looking for me or something?”

With a chuckle, he slowly nods, “It’s nothing, really.”

“It didn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me.”

Royce’s eyes find mine and all of the confidence in them dissolves as he sighs, “Just a bad dream, that’s all.”

The topic of nightmares is nothing new to us. We’ve discussed them before and we both have no shortage of nights spent staring up at the ceiling or crying into pillowcases. While Royce’s nightmares are vivid and full of terrifying versions of what could have happened in the arena - me dying in his arms, him having to kill either me or Riven, or the fire in the wheelhouse burning us all to a crisp - my dreams are flooded with memories. Some nights, I experience the Games all over again as though I’m in the arena once more. The only thing that changes is that the dead bodies speak to me. Riven, Lexi, Jade, Erica, the pair from District 5… I hear them all chiding me for not helping them, saving them, letting them win. Royce’s claim of a nightmare plaguing him may be simple, but I understand the meaning behind it. He probably tried to find me in my room and, when I wasn’t there, went looking for me.

Instead of pressing him for details, I offer Royce my hand and smile as I ask, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

“You don’t mind?” he mumbles.

“Would I have asked you if I minded?” I ask with a chuckle.

Royce’s hand slides into mine and I lead him back through the train cars to my suite. We curl under the covers and my arms never once leave Royce until the morning comes. Breakfast goes by quickly as I talk with the others about my plan to give Lexi’s family some money like we did with Erica’s. Once we’re dressed and prepared to perfection, Royce and I are brought to the town square where District 7 hosts all of their reapings. The once-Canadian area still has some signage in French that tells people where things are and the people are all dressed for the cold, northern weather, but it’s what I don’t see that takes me aback. On the makeshift stage is a set of parents standing beside the image of their now deceased son, Rigg Lockthorn, yet on the other side of the stage where Lexi’s family should be, is a Peacekeeper who holds the leash of a graying dog that, at one point, was probably a ferocious protector and is now nothing more than a lap dog without an owner. I don’t spend much time wondering what happened to the rest of Lexi’s family as the mayor explains in his speech that her parents had passed away in a logging accident a few years prior, leaving her with the family boxer as her only relative.

My hopes to make amends with Lexi’s family are dashed as the old dog slowly lowers itself to the cold metal riser and peers over at us with tired eyes. I wonder how long it will be before the loyal pet will return to its owner, but as Royce and I are handed flowers from a set of twins in matching outfits, I push my thoughts aside and begin our customary speech. Royce wraps it up with a flourish and I begin the short message I had prepared for Lexi. The speech feels hollow as I’m giving it to nobody other than an elderly dog and whatever people she knew in the crowd. Once our message is done, we’re met with applause from the crowd and the mayor gives us each a plaque before ushering us toward a car that gives us a tour of the area. Once we’re at the mayor’s house, things calm and I feel myself relax ever so slightly. By the time we’re back on the train, the pressure I had built up has practically evaporated. The rest of the tour should be over quickly.

As we have to skip over Royce’s district, our next stop is District 5 which, to my surprise, goes by far quicker than I thought it would. It's there that I find out, from the mayor's speech, that Volt and Elektra were cousins. No wonder they were so close. After our speeches are finished, we’re given a short tour of the hydroelectric dam that feeds power to the entire nation. Then, when we return to the main center of District 5, we change into some glittering formal wear and dance the night away in a room covered by a glittering, golden dome that had once been called a casino before being driven back to the train station. District 4 goes by quite the same, although it is quite surreal to see the image of Serena Sullivan, the girl who was out to get my head on a silver platter. It’s there that we’re brought across the red bridge I spotted on our flight back to the Capitol months ago. The mayor’s son, an eight-year-old named Skipper, prattles off about the history of the rusting bridge that was once called the Golden Gate. The kid talks to Royce and I more than anyone else does during our visit and we both agree later on that it almost feels like we’re back home, listening to our younger siblings blather on and on about their school days and the drama they’re going through. Our tour of District 4 is far longer winded than any of the other districts we had been to yet and it’s there that we receive the loudest cheers on our tour thus far.

We skip District 3 like we’re supposed to and head for District 2 where we’re shown the “masonry” of their district. Everyone in Panem knows that the weapons for the Capitol and the Peacekeepers are made in District 2, but we’re only shown the incredible stonework they use as a farce. Many of the district’s people are excited to see us, welcoming us with surprisingly open arms and bright smiles. We’re even brought to the Victor’s Village and shown all of the houses that had been built for their best tributes. However, it is District 1 that goes all out for us. We give our pre-made speeches and dedicate a section of time for our speech on our alliance with Jade, which her family smiles at in appreciation, and, after all is said and done, we’re given gifts by not only the mayor, but also the families. On top of our typical bouquets and plaques, Jade’s family gifts us each a necklace with our initials dangling from a tiny loop and her teammate, Onyx’s family gives us each a pair of glittering jewels that match the ones Royce and I had claimed were our birthstones while in the arena. At the dinner party, I receive an extra box in memory of Riven from the mayor herself who claims that she called Mayor Cabel and asked for Riven’s birth month so that she would have the gift ready by the time I arrived.

When I find my composure and finally thank her before we leave the dinner party, she rests a hand on my arm and softly says, “I know how difficult it is to lose a sibling, even if you aren’t related by blood. This is the least I could do to keep his memory alive.”

I don’t get the chance to question her as our group is escorted back to the vehicle we arrived in and driven back to the train. That night, Royce and I sit in the viewing car long after the moon rises in the sky, looking over the gifts we were given and lounging together on the couch where we can watch the stars above us. Eventually, we fall asleep together, my fingers still threaded in Royce’s perfectly coiled, chocolatey curls and his arms still wrapped securely around my waist. When morning comes, we rise with the sun and make our way to the living room where we sit together, reading over the books we had been given back at the end of July, invading each other’s spaces and slotting perfectly together like puzzle pieces at the bottom of a box. With my head on Royce’s shoulder, he reads to me and, when I close my eyes, I can almost envision us back in the arena, curled together in the library with Riven sitting nearby, listening to whatever story we’re interested in. When my eyes finally reopen, however, the truth hits me like a punch to the gut and I tuck my head even further into Royce’s shirt.

Our ride to the Capitol is over just before breakfast and we’re told that we’ll be able to eat once we get through the sea of adoring crowds that have filled every street, waiting for us. Our little bags of belongings are placed inside the trunk of a long, stretched car that Royce claims he’s never seen before and we’re encouraged to stand in the small opening in the ceiling, waving to the people who have gathered for us. Once we finally arrive in the Training Center, we’re shown to the top floor where they’ve decided Royce and I - and our respective crews - could stay. We sit in the living room and talk for what feels like forever about the plan for the interview we would have to endure that night. There is an idea they all seem to share that Royce and I have no choice but to agree to: having our first official kiss in front of all of Panem. The only time they had seen us kiss thus far was when we kissed in the arena after it was declared that we won. While we both aren’t too sure of the idea, our mentors tell us that it might be a good way to make the Capitol happy which will, in turn, make the districts happy. After a while of back and forth, Royce and I choose to retire to the room we’ve chosen to share and talk for a while before we have to begin getting ready for our interview. It’s in our room that Royce brings up something I never thought he would ask.

“Do you want to get married?”

I freeze mid page turn and slowly lift my gaze to Royce. He stands at the end of the bed I’m resting on, his skin is still red from the shower he just took, and, despite the available technology, he runs a towel through his curls to dry them himself. His gaze isn’t entirely serious, more curious than anything, but I see the genuine wonder in them. “Like, right now?” I ask in return.

He chuckles and shakes his head, leaving the towel around his shoulders, “No, of course not. I mean, do you ever want to get married or do you think it’s pointless to put all that effort in just to get a piece of paper signed?”

“I think I’d like to get married someday,” I reply with a shrug, slipping a piece of paper between the pages of my book and setting it aside. “We have a tradition in District Three where the bride and groom are taken by their families and brought into a garden maze where they have to find each other in the center. If they find each other quickly, it means they’re meant to be together.”

Royce smiles as he perches himself at the end of the bed, “I like that idea.”

“Do they have any traditions in Six?”

“We have a few, actually,” Royce nods. “My favorite is when the couple has to wear a chain that loops around their shoulders and, once the vows are said, the family and close friends of the couple have to stand in a circle around them and say an old poem about how their love is as unbreakable as the chain around them.”

The idea of me and Royce standing together in the garden as our friends and families recite a poem about our love is too sweet for me to even think of fighting the smile on my face. “That sounds beautiful,” I have to say.

Royce hums and rises from the bed, discarding his towel in the hamper and sliding into place beside me before resting his head on my shoulder. Peering up at me, he mutters, “You will be a beautiful bride someday.”

With a smirk, I wonder, “Is this your way of proposing?”

“No,” he chuckles. Royce lifts his head from my arm and meets my gaze with a hint of seriousness in his eyes; almost as though he’s thought of this before. “When I propose, we’ll be in a better place, surrounded by all of the people we love most, living happily in a world where we aren’t constantly looking over our shoulders.”

“Really?” I breathe.

Nodding, Royce smiles and takes my hand in his before declaring, “When the time comes, you won’t have to wonder if I’m proposing or not. You’ll know.”

“I will, will I?”

His smile melts into a smirk and, as he’s done since we first confessed our feelings for one another on the rooftop of this very building, Royce presses a kiss to the back of my hand. Then, to my surprise, he moves up and takes my cheek in his hand, leaning closer until our lips touch, sealing his promise with a kiss. A moment later, Royce leans back just a hair, his breath brushing my now burning cheeks as he whispers, “You will.”

Through the hazy, lovestruck fog that fills my head, I remember that we were supposed to have our first kiss in front of the cameras. Instead of the gentle admonishment that I wish would come from my mouth, all that I manage is a meek, “You kissed me.”

Royce nods, a smile stretching across his face as he admits, “I wanted to make sure our first real kiss was special and for just the two of us, not something manufactured for the applause of the Capitol’s finest assholes.”

The sentiment sends a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in my stomach as my chest tightens giddily. My smile now matches Royce’s and I wonder if he’s just as in love as I am. He must be if he’s so willing to go against the plans that had been set for us. Our perfect little moment is stalled as a drum-like knock on the door forces Royce to pull away, shifting so that he’s resting beside me once again. I clear my throat and take in a sharp breath before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opens and Kona enters with a hand over her eyes and a smirk on her face as she asks, “Is it safe to come in? ‘Cause I don’t want to see any exchanging of bodily fluids.”

Without missing a beat, Royce quips, “We’re drinking each other’s blood.”

Kona spreads her fingers to take a glimpse at us before scoffing, “Yeah, okay. Look, you two have about two minutes before the prep teams storm this room like they’re preparing for war and I figured you should know.”

“Why?” Royce asks. “In case we needed to get dressed?”

“Pretty much,” Kona snickers.

It’s impossible to not smile at their interaction and, as Kona leaves the room, Royce shakes his head with a laugh and I have to ask, “Is she like that back in District Six?”

He nods as he pushes himself to the edge of the bed, “You should’ve seen when Carrie came to visit Miles a few months ago. Kona came over and we sat on the couch, waiting for them to get back from their date night like a bunch of disapproving parents ready to scold their child for sneaking out.”

“Sounds like she keeps you all on your toes,” I comment as I rise from the bed.

“That’s an understatement,” Royce chuckles, moving to stand by the mirror so that he can adjust his hair one last time.

I approach him from behind and wrap my arms around his middle, resting my chin on his shoulder with a grin. He meets my gaze in the mirror and his hand drops to cover my interlocked fingers. I press a kiss to his cheek and softly ask, “You know I love you, right?”

This time, it’s Royce’s face that turns a shade of rouge, the color only emphasizing the wonderfully spattered freckles that decorate his face. Slowly, he turns to face me, my arms still enclosed around him as he tucks a section of hair behind my ear and leans forward, pressing our foreheads together. Just as I feel a breath ghost across my face, the door opens and we’re forced apart by the high-pitched squeals the prep teams let out. They try to keep us apart for the rest of the time they have us and, when the time comes for us to get dressed, Royce and I are entirely separated as Carrie comes and whisks him off to the room he should have been using for the day. Juliet comes with my outfit for the evening and I’m dressed in a glittering, golden dress that she matches with green accessories - a combination of District 6’s signature yellow and my district’s blue.

Juliet meets my gaze with a far more confident smile than what I had seen last time we talked. “My father says he has some gifts to give you and Royce after the party at our mansion.”

“Any idea what they are?” I have to ask.

To my dismay, she shakes her head, her neatly braided hair whipping behind her like a tail. “All I know is that he wanted me to set a book aside for you.”

“Do you know what book?”

“No, but the author was something Livingston.”

“Livingston?” I repeat. Juliet nods. Livingston… Why does that sound familiar? Maybe the person wrote one of the books in the ship’s library. I suppose that, until I see the book for myself, I won’t know. I make a face and shrug, “Guess I’ll find out later.”

“Guess so,” Juliet says with a small grin. She takes a step back and readjusts my dress one last time before  turning me toward the mirror and beaming, “You look elegant, Vivien. Like a princess.”

I can’t imagine myself as a princess in some fairytale parents tell their children, but maybe, in some distant universe, that’s possible. Maybe, in some other world, I’m a lady of some royal status, sitting on a throne that doesn’t quite belong to me, waiting around for a prince to come and save me from the dreadful monotony of royal life. However, in this world, I am a victor of a game of survival, waiting for someone to tell me that I can take a breath and relax for the first time in months. No amount of glitter and gold and glory can make me anything more than a girl from District 3 who somehow made it out of the arena with her beloved by her side. 

Regardless of my inner monologue, I smile back at Juliet and thank her before saying, “You look incredible as well, Juliet.”

It’s true. Juliet’s intricately designed, crimson gown pools at the floor and is slit nearly to her left hip, but the bodice is nearly entirely sheer with delicate lace covering everything that needs to be. She pulls off the sexy, eye-catching gown with a grace I could never hope to possess in my wildest dreams. It suits her. Juliet giggles airily and squeezes me in a hug from behind before thanking me. “I worked on it long before the tour started. My outfit will complement Carrie’s.”

My head tips slightly as I wonder, “Is she wearing red too?”

“Heavens, no!” Juliet practically snorts. “We agreed a long time ago that red was my color. She always looks exquisite in aqua and, as those colors look great together, it works out perfectly for us.”

Our conversation is cut short as my mentors enter the room, telling us that it’s nearly time for us to be leaving. Juliet gives me a last kiss to either cheek before leaving us alone to talk for the first time in a long time. Brady is the first to approach me, taking my hands in his with a smile as he says, “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” I make sure to say. “I can’t believe we’re so close to going back home already.”

Mack smiles as she approaches, taking the time to look over my given outfit before softly saying, “I only hope that, this time, you won’t be so quick to shut everyone out.”

I try not to wince at the thought. It’s true that, after our last trip to the Capitol, I closed nearly everyone out of my life, but I feel as though I’m in a better place now. The potential for Riven to come home has grown exponentially, the president promised months ago that he would be putting an end to the Hunger Games tonight, and Royce and I are happy. I have no intention of closing people off anymore. Then again, I didn’t think that way last time either, so I suppose I can see why they’re worried.

“I’ll try not to,” I offer.

“Good,” Brady says. “You really worried us, Vivien.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. With all of the pressure to keep up appearances and dealing with the loss of Riven and, well everything, I just… I guess it just sort of happened. It was easier to lock myself away than it was to ask for help.”

“I can’t say anything,” Mack sighs. “I was quite the same after my Games.”

Brady lets out a laugh, eyes full of mirth as he tells me, “She was. I remember, when we were on the train to the Capitol for my Games, she was in the midst of her depression. I tried to ask her if she wanted help and she threw a pot at my head.”

Mack lightly whacks him on the arm with a scoff, “I did not!” He sends her a look that urges her to tell the truth and, after a moment, she relents, “It was a vase.”

“Anyway,” Brady snickers, “the moral of the story is that, no matter what happens in here,” he lightly taps my head, “we will always be there for you. We’re right across the street if you want us.”

“Or need us,” Mack tacks on.

A smile, a true, beaming smile, finally appears and I take the small, half-step forward it takes for them to bring me into a hug, squeezing me between them so securely that I wonder how I stayed away for so long. My parents give excellent hugs and, with how often I get hugs from them, I’m sure they know I like them, but Mack and Brady’s hugs are superior in every way. It’s like coming home from a long day at work and collapsing into your mattress or falling asleep in freshly washed sheets and cozy, still-warm pajamas. I’ve missed their hugs. And, as they’ve said, they were only across the street this entire time.

The moment is ruined by a solid knock on the door and Juliet telling us that it’s time to go. I reluctantly peel myself from between Mack and Brady before allowing them to lead the way out of the room. Royce stands by the elevator with Carrie who adjusts his gold and green bowtie with practiced ease. He smiles when he sees me and, in the elevator, we cling to each other like our lives depend on it. On the stage in front of the Training Center, we handle Caesar’s questions with grace, going through them far quicker than we did in our interviews half a year ago. Caesar Flickerman glimmers in a silvery glow, his hair shimmering brightly due to the overhead lights as he gives us endless questions about our love life, the people back home, and our tour. When he presses us about the future and what we hope it holds, Royce and I share a smile and pour our hearts out in front of everyone. It isn’t anything we haven’t already said to one another, but the crowd clings to our every word as though we’ll disappear if they don’t. When he finishes spewing his feelings to all of Panem, Royce takes my cheek in his hand and I lean into it, meeting his eyes with a smile.

“You have no idea how in love with you I am, Royce Murphy,” I mutter to him and, if the crowd’s reaction is anything to go by, they heard me loud and clear.

Royce lets out a breath of a laugh and minutely shakes his head, “Actually, I think I know just how much, as I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, Vivien O’Brian.”

I don’t have to wonder if his words are true or not; the love in his eyes is as clear as the sky above us. The raucous crowd that has gathered now sounds like nothing more than background noise as I reach up and run a hand through Royce’s curls, smiling at him before using my leverage to pull him to me, locking him in a kiss. Royce’s hands fall to my waist as I bring my hands further into his hair and it takes us a moment to separate. When I finally meet Royce’s eyes again, I see the genuine happiness that makes his freckled cheeks rise and his eyes squint as his smile fills me with warmth. I must look just as ridiculously lovestruck, but as a hand lands on my arm and I finally hear Caesar’s voice breaking through the endless white noise that filled my ears, I don’t seem to care. The audience has become hysterical, dissolving into squeals of happiness and chants of our names as the cameras show groups people around Panem watching us - a perfect display of a country besotted with our love story

Before long, President Harmon arrives for a surprise visit and I briefly wonder if he came just for us. My question is quickly answered, however as, once he has shaken hands with Royce and wraps me in an embrace that smells faintly of bleach and citrus, he asks too quietly for the microphones to pick up, “Have you found anything that needs to be changed, my dear?”

“We have,” I breathe as he pulls away.

He taps his finger under my chin and smiles as he says, “Atta girl.”

A breath of relief leaves me as Royce’s hand finds mine and we’re guided by Caesar to stand just to the left of the president. With a simple raise of a hand, President Harmon silences the crowd with a smile and speaks with easy eloquence, “Thank you. Today we are here to celebrate the victory of the first ever pair of victors. Vivien, Royce, we appreciate your efforts and you congratulate your survival from the Hunger Games.”

Royce and I nod his way and I breathe a soft, “Thank you, sir.”

He nods in return and turns back to address the audience that has gathered, “Not only are we here for a magnificent celebration, but today, with all of Panem as our witness, the victors and I have an announcement to make.”

As the president takes a pause to let the information sink in, Caesar steps forward, taking the opportunity to add more drama to the situation. “An announcement?” he wonders.

President Harmon addresses Caesar individually as he nods, “Yes, indeed.” Turning back to the crowd, a grin takes over the president’s face as he announces, “This past year, watching these two, young people grow from simple civilians in their respective districts, to tributes, to fighters, and, now, to victors in their own right, has inspired me as I’m sure they have inspired all of you.”

The throngs of adoring spectators roar in confirmation and, in the distance, I hear a faint call of, “Damn straight!”

I turn to Royce and we share a small giggle at the crowd’s antics before turning our attention back to the president. With a chuckle, he continues, “They have inspired me to take a good look at all that has happened since the Hunger Games were first created sixty-three years ago. In that time, we have seen many tributes come and go, many families torn apart by the Hunger Games and all that they’ve stood for. This year, I have decided that all of this death and destruction has no place in Panem.”

As President Harmon once again pauses, the onlookers in the crowd begin murmuring amongst themselves. I don’t doubt that most of them are wondering where this is going, but it seems as though a few have already figured this out. Maybe not all of the Capitol’s citizens are total imbeciles. Again, Caesar Flickerman takes the opportunity to ask, “Does this mean what I think it means, President Harmon?”

The president turns to Caesar and I’d like to imagine he gives the silver-haired man a look of pure exasperation before he turns back to the audience before us and proclaims, “As of today, the eleventh day of January, the Hunger Games are now, officially, abolished.”

Royce’s grasp on my hand tightens a fraction and I turn toward him, finding him looking surprised despite the fact that both of us knew this was going to happen, almost word for word. It takes me a moment, but once I realize that he’s encouraging me to act, I allow my eyes to widen and my mouth to gape like a goldfish - a brainless creature much like some of the people now watching us from the crowd. Although the announcement has caught everyone in the vicinity by surprise, I hear the cheers and applause over everything else. After a while, President Harmon gestures for us to join him at the center of the stage and stands between us before taking our hands in his and raising them for all of Panem to see. The camera flashes and almost overwhelming reactions from the onlookers send me into a sort of daze that I only come out of once we’re off of the stage and in the safety of our apartment.

Royce and I don’t have much time to think, let alone talk with anyone before we’re ushered to different rooms to change for the evening. While we will still have to look presentable, Juliet claims that the dinner party allows us to wear something more comfortable than the ball gown and suit Royce and I had been shoved into. The party, like before, is held in the banquet room of the president’s mansion, though it’s obvious to me that they’ve pulled out all the stops for us this time around. The forty-foot high ceiling resembles the night sky that I wonder if they can ever see with all of the city’s lights. An orchestra plays high above the room, the wondrous sound of violins and occasional drums sending a smile across my face the moment I hear them. The rest of the room has been transformed into an area of relaxation; the dinner tables have been exchanged for plush couches and sofas, a large fountain that feeds into a pool of orange, black, and white fish Juliet claims are called koi, and the center of the room has been transformed into a dance floor where people file in for songs they’re familiar with, dance for a while, and leave to mingle once more. As though she doesn’t see the number of people flocking toward us like a swarm of birds, Juliet tips up her chin with a smile and guides us to a special area just for our group to relax before taking Carrie by the hand and pulling her toward the dance floor so easily that I wonder if they do this sort of thing often. I couldn’t imagine living in a world where parties and dancing and crowds are commonplace, but I suppose this sort of thing is just how my life will continue to be from now on.

Even with Royce’s grip on my hand to keep me steady, I feel ready to keel over as flamboyantly dressed Capitol residents approach us and either congratulate us, press us for answers about the president’s decision or, in the odd case, offer to take us both back to their residence for a ‘good time’, whatever that means. I doubt their idea of a good time is the same as mine right about now. Any time they see us looking particularly uneasy with a conversation, one of our friends swoops in to rescue us, pulling us toward the food tables or the dance floor where they then press us for any information we have. By the end of the night, my legs are sore from dancing and walking around the expansive room, my stomach feels as though I’ve eaten enough to feed a family of six, and my head is spinning with the overwhelming, well, everything. The music I loved at the beginning of the night now sets my teeth on edge with how loud it is, the repetitive cycle of people coming and going from our table makes me wish I could turn invisible, and the myriad of perfumes I’m surrounded by everytime some random stranger comes up to me and wraps me in a tight hug, has given me a migraine that makes everything so much more aggravating. To top it all off, exhaustion is beginning to set in and I can tell from the yawns he tries so desperately to hide that Royce isn’t far from crawling under the table and passing out.

The time comes for us to circle the banquet hall, thanking people for attending before we leave, but before Halo and her counterpart, Neptune, can even think of tugging Royce and I around the room, Juliet and Carrie take us as their hostages and sneak us away from the party. When we try to question them on where we’re going, the girls simply tell us to be patient. We pass fewer guards in the hallways than I anticipated, but I suppose most of them will be tasked with helping drunken party-goers out to the street. A pair of heavy, ornate doors meet us at the end of a long hallway and I realize where Carrie and Juliet have brought us. The president’s meeting room hasn’t changed in the last six months - not that I expected it to in the first place - and, to my surprise, President Harmon is sitting at the table in a pair of black pants and a simple blue button down, chuckling to himself as he reads something inside of a folder. He looks so casual that I almost don’t recognize him, but as Juliet steps forward and introduces us to him, calling him her dad, I have no choice but to accept that he is, in fact, President Harmon. 

He sets his folder down on the table and I briefly spot a book between its folds before the manilla flaps close on the table and the president rises from his seat. With a smile, he approaches us and, after instructing us to relax the way he did after the Victory Banquet last year, he looks to Royce and asks, “Vivien tells me you two have found some things in the paperwork I gave you that you would like to change, is that right?”

“I believe so, sir,” is Royce’s response.

President Harmon gives us a wave of his hand and chuckles, “No need to address me so formally, you two. My name is Mark.”

“With all due respect,” I begin, “I can’t even call my mentors by their first name. I doubt I’ll be able to do that with you either.”

Instead of appearing upset with my statement, he smiles and nods, “I can understand that. It took me forever to be able to call my teachers by their first names after I graduated from the Academy. With time, it will come to you.”

Before the conversation goes much further, Juliet asks, “Dad, could Carrie and I go fetch our gifts for them while you talk?”

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Just remember what I told you earlier, darling.”

Juliet nods and repeats what I assume he had said earlier in the day, “No fireworks until you give me the all-clear.”

As Juliet takes Carrie by the hand and guides her out of the room with a slam of the door, I turn to Royce and wonder, “Fireworks?”

He shrugs, but it’s the president who answers us, “A colorful display of sorts that Juliet put together for tonight after much convincing. They are quite loud, so I prefer not to use them, but I can never say no to my Juliet.” With a sigh, he takes a seat on the edge of the table and asks, “Now, I believe you two had some things you would like to discuss with me?”

I feel my posture become rigid once again, my back crying at the stiff movement once again as I clear my throat and say, “We do.”

“Fire away,” he orders with a simple hand gesture.

I turn to Royce and see him watching me with an encouraging smile, so I take a deep breath and begin the statement we had been preparing for the last few days, “When you gave us the boxes of paperwork and a book last year, I didn’t know what to do with it. At first, I read over everything, searching and scanning for answers in every line of every page, but I found nothing.”

“We both read over the book until we had practically memorized it,” Royce adds. “We talked about it over the phone more than anything, hoping one of us had found some hidden meaning between the pages.”

He isn’t wrong. Once we both had returned home, the first thing we did was get on our new phones and read to each other, hoping one of us would hear something in the mystery book that would guide us on the right path, but we never found anything. Nodding at Royce, the president lets out a soft laugh, “I figured it might take you a while to figure out my puzzles if I gave you no hints. Where did you find your answers?”

“The Final Problem,” Royce states.

“And in The Adventure of the Empty House,” I add. 

Royce nods and begins summarizing the story, “In The Final Problem, Sherlock and Watson travel to Switzerland and visit a town near a waterfall. On their walk through town, Doctor Watson receives a letter about a sick woman wanting an English doctor and returns to the hotel, only to find there is no sick woman needing his help. He goes back to the waterfall only to find that Sherlock is missing. He follows two sets of footprints up a muddy pathway where he finds evidence of a fight, but no returning tracks in the mud. After all of his time investigating with Sherlock, Watson quickly realizes that Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty, his enemy, must have fallen from the top of the Reichenbach Falls, a height that would have easily killed them.”

“However,” I begin, “in The Adventure of the Empty House, we see that Sherlock Holmes actually survived the incident by flinging Moriarty off the side of the path and climbing up the cliffside. He shows up to Watson’s house in disguise and Watson, probably thinking he was seeing a ghost, faints after Sherlock reveals himself.”

Although I see a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, the president questions, “How does this coincide with the changes you would like to make?”

Before I can spew out the rambling pleas I have for him to let Riven come home if he’s still alive, Royce’s voice comes in with a polite, but firm tone, “If Riven is still alive, here in the Capitol, we would like to bring him home.”

“Please,” I continue. “I just want to bring him home. It’s not the same without him. Without him there, I have nobody back home who will tease me relentlessly or sing dumb songs on the walk home from work or will go out on the lake with me in the winter and goof off or-” I have to stop myself as my breath hitches. My throat tightens as tears sting at my eyes and my heart twists painfully in my chest. Royce is quick to bring an arm around my shoulders and I’m grateful for his steady hands keeping me upright. Taking in a sharp breath, I mutter, “Nobody to make me listen to his absolutely terrible jokes.”

In truth, that’s what I’ve missed most; his shitty jokes that I’m subjected to every day. At work, he would constantly peer around his monitor at me and wait until I met his gaze before spewing out some bullshit joke that he pulls out of seemingly nowhere. When we’d sit together at his house after work, staring up at the horribly painted ceiling, he would give me some awful animal joke that had me kicking him from the other side of the couch, ripping into him about how bad it was despite my laughter. His smile, his laughter, his terrible jokes at the best and worst of times, I miss them all.

The president watches us silently before he rises from his perch on the table and saunters back to where he left the manilla folder, pulling a book from it, “I understand how difficult it is to lose someone, Vivien. My wife died just a few years ago. Memories like you have are hard to let go of, but there will always be more memories to make with the people you love.” 

Making his way back toward us, President Harmon flips through the pages of the book before closing it and holding it out. I examine the cover and let out a soft chuckle, reaching for the copy of the joke book Riven loved so much in the arena, but the president pulls it back from my hand, holding it away from my grasp. “What?” I quickly ask. “But-”

“Sorry, Pip,” a voice starts from behind me as a hand takes the book from the president’s outstretched hand. “I know you love books and all, but I believe that’s actually mine.”

Royce slides away from me and I’m left wide-eyed as Royce turns around and breathes, “No fucking way.”

“I have a joke for you two,” the voice continues as I slowly turn, keeping my gaze locked on the floor. First, I find a pair of shiny black shoes, too fancy. Then, black pants with gold and green lines that remind me of a circuit board and I have to say that it suits him. After that, a simple green shirt with matching, golden lines threaded throughout comes into view… I always told Riven that green was a good color for him. I scan his skin and frown; he’s too pale. He’s supposed to be this sunkissed mountain that stands tall and firm, but he looks as though he hasn’t so much as looked at the sun in a long time. His auburn hair still shines like a halo of fire in the golden lights above us, but it’s nowhere near as messy as he always keeps it. Finally, I find his eyes - a pair of glimmering hazel irises that, while shining with excitement, have a sheen of tears in them as he smiles at the two of us.

“Riven?” I breathe.

Instead of stepping forward and pulling me into a hug as I so desperately wish he would, Riven asks, “Why are ghosts terrible liars?”

Royce ignores the question, launching himself toward Riven with a laugh and, faintly, I hear him lightly reprimanding the much taller man for greeting us with a joke. Riven laughs and a wave of nausea washes over me as I stare at the man I had mourned for the last six months. Once Royce finally steps away from him, I meet Riven’s eyes again and, suddenly, it’s like the room around us is spinning, the floor swaying beneath us. A hand on my arm makes me jump and, when I turn, I see a flash of blonde hair before darkness floods my vision and I feel the floor rising to meet me.

Images flash through my head; visions of cramped rooms, my chest tight as I try not to breathe in a blend of overbearing perfumes and colognes, my head swimming as I’m spun around the ballroom by people I’ve never met before, the overwhelming urge to run and hide as another person approaches me with a smile so white that it burns my retinas, the sight of a familiar, gentler smile and a shimmering golden dome looming high overhead. I wake up with a sharp breath and force myself upright, the darkness of my surroundings sending a surge of panic through my veins. Then, a hand on my wrist stops me from attempting to stand and I turn to find Royce staring blearily at me from his place in the tangled blankets beside me.

His mouth moves, but I don’t hear him and he sits up, using his free hand to brush loose strands of hair from my face before resting his palm on my cheek. “Breathe for me, Viv,” he pleads softly.

“Where-?” I question in a pant of breath.

“Relax,” he gently orders. “We’re on the train. You’re alright.”

I nod against his hand and try to force myself to relax. Once my breathing settles, I ask, “Can we put a light on? It’s too dark.”

“Of course,” Royce agrees and I can almost hear the smile in his voice as he reaches behind me to the table beside the bed. A soft, golden glow fills the room and, despite my blurry, tired eyes, I can make out the familiar wallpaper and cushy furniture in the room. Royce draws my attention back to him as he brings my hand to his lips and asks, “Was it a bad dream?”

Meeting his caramel eyes, I shrug, “I’m not entirely sure.”

He nods and asks, “Do you want to get some more sleep? It’s only three.”

Glancing past his shoulder to the clock on his side of the bed, I nod and slowly ease back to the pillows with a sigh, “When did we even go to bed?”

“We didn’t get on the train until a little after one,” Royce replies with a yawn he tries to fight as he lays beside me, leaving an arm outstretched for me.

“Holy shit,” I mumble, allowing myself to relax into his side, my ear placed firmly above his heartbeat. Silence fills the dimly lit room and it takes a while for me to breathe, “No wonder I’m so exhausted.”

Royce chuckles, “Between the suffocating party and you fainting on us, I’m not surprised.”

His words settle into my skin and I push myself onto an elbow, meeting his eyes curiously, “I passed out?”

“It was only for a few minutes,” he confirms, threading a hand into my hair with a small grin. “You woke up very briefly, and fell asleep on the floor after we asked you if you were alright. The president had a doctor come in and check on you before we left, but you really scared us for a moment.”

Were the things I saw in my dreams real? The party, all the wildly dressed people coming up to me to talk or ask me to dance, the overpowering smells, the heat rising as the night went on, and the desire to run as far as my legs would carry me. “That was real?” I wonder aloud, pushing myself to sit up once again as Royce’s hand falls back to the mattress. “The party and all of those people and…” I have to stop myself as I finally place the rest of the face that was attached to the smile in my dream. Glancing toward the door across from my bed, I ask, “Riven was there?”

Royce’s hand latches onto me and I whirl back toward him with wide eyes, but he quickly takes hold of my arms with a small smile, rubbing tiny circles into my skin with his thumbs. “He was there, yeah.”

“I need to see him,” I spew. “He needs to know that I-”

“Viv,” Royce interrupts, lightly tugging my arms to gain my attention once again. “Everything is alright. Riven is still with us. He’s sleeping in the next car.”

A strong urge to pull myself from Royce’s grasp and make a break for the room I know Riven is snoring obnoxiously loud in, creeps up on me, but Royce continues his gentle reassurances until he convinces me to go back to sleep, my head on his chest once again. My fingers lace with his empty hand as he keeps one hand on my back, tracing imaginary designs on my back as I listen to him breathe, his heartbeat pulsing soothingly beneath my ear. Not wanting to disrupt the peace we’ve created, I whisper into the dark room, “I love you.”

A soft pressure lands on the top of my head as Royce kisses my hair, whispering in return, “Not nearly as much as I love you.”

A soft giggle leaves me as I tighten my hold on his hand, “That’s debatable.”

“Save it for morning, then,” Royce suggests, a smirk evident in his voice. 

Fleetingly, I feel like arguing, but drowsiness tugs at my eyelids and I allow myself to rest comfortably in his arms. A soft knock on the door rouses me from a dreamless sleep, but not enough for me to move from the blankets. The door slides open and I feel the mattress sink behind me before a gentle voice speaks, “Good morning.”

I know the voice and, as welcoming as it is, my blankets are warm in the spot I’ve curled into and I have no intention of moving. “Mornin’,” I mumble.

The voice chuckles - a familiar baritone that I remember hearing anytime I begged someone to tell me stories a long time ago - and says, “And here I thought you were a morning person.”

Rolling over, I finally lay eyes on the hazel-eyed man I had wanted to see for the last six months. Riven’s eyes are no longer watery or glassy, instead filled with mirth, and I see his smile has returned to its familiar glow. “Riven?” I mutter in surprise.

“Hey, Pipsqueak,” he returns.

Almost too quickly, I push myself up and bring my arms around his shoulders, not caring that the room spins slightly as Riven’s arms close around me. We sit for a while, slotted together like a pair of puzzle pieces, unbothered by our surroundings. Eventually, I slide back just enough to get a good look at Riven’s face. Despite looking paler than I would like, he still looks like himself. His smile could still illuminate a room and he looks ready to tell me everything that’s happened to him in the last six months, but he allows me to poke and prod at him until I decide that I’ve proven to myself that he is, in fact, sitting before me - alive and well.

“You’re really here,” I say softly.

“I am,” Riven confirms. “Are you?”

“I think so,” I offer.

Riven reaches up and flicks my forehead with a grin, “I think you are.”

“Good,” I chuckle, attempting to ignore the spot on my skin that now stings. “That means you’re stuck with me.”

He lets out a short laugh and shakes his head, “You say that like I wasn’t already stuck with you.”

“Oh, you were,” I say with a smile, “but it’s been a while, so I’m reminding you.”

We share a smile and Riven takes the chance to examine me as I did him, looking me over almost as though he’s searching for something. Finally, his gaze stops on my wrist where the bracelet I made him years ago still lies. As though I was made of porcelain, Riven lifts my wrist in his grasp and smiles, “Royce gave it to you, that’s good. I didn’t think you’d still be wearing it after all this time.”

“Of course, I would,” I tell him. I have no reason to take it off other than to shower or work so, for the majority of the last six months, I’d been wearing it or keeping it with me. I’m never far from it. Briefly, my mind travels back to the arena; the blood-stained deck, the fear coursing through me at the idea of losing him, hearing him call out to me despite the cannon signaling his death. Taking a deep breath, I find it impossible for me to not ask, “What happened to you?”

Riven’s eyes find mine and find myself wishing I hadn’t asked as his hazel irises harden and he forces himself to look away. I grip his hand a fragment tighter and assure him that he doesn’t have to tell me if he doesn’t want to, but Riven slowly shakes his head, meeting my gaze with a grin so small that I can barely make it out. “I will tell you eventually,” he says, his tone promising, “but I’d rather do it at home, where we can sit and talk for hours.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Riv,” I say once more, hoping he knows just how serious I am.

“I know, Pip,” Riven says with a smile. He seems genuine as he says, “There’s just a lot I have to say and, if I start talking now, you and I both know I won’t shut up until I get everything out. You wouldn’t be able to enjoy exploring your boyfriend’s district.”

That’s right, we have to visit Royce’s district before we can go home. I sort of remember Mick’s parents telling us something like that. Since we’re from two separate districts, we have to stop in District 6 and go through the motions of their celebrations before we bring Royce to District 3 and make him participate in all of our traditions. Now that we’re free to come and go between each other’s districts, we’ll be spending more time together, but first come the formalities we have to go through.

“Right,” I sigh. I’m sure Royce would be understanding if I wanted to stay on the train until it was time to go, but since I had already promised him that I’d be visiting his brothers and letting him be my tour guide, I’m not sure how well that would go over.

Riven gives me a nudge with his elbow and a chuckle, “Don’t look so upset, Viv. I’ll still be with you every step of the way.”

Meeting Riven’s eyes, I feel my eyebrow lift curiously, wondering what on earth he could mean. “But you’re supposed to be-”

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes off with a wave of his hand, rising from the bed with a grin. “But I just came back from the dead and I want to stay with my Pipsqueak and her precious boy toy. How would they refuse me such a request?”

Brushing off his comment, I ask, “How are you planning to get around the districts with all of the cameras on us?” 

Riven shrugs, taking me by the hand and pulling me to my feet, “When you’re on stage, it will be easy. I can just stand backstage with the others and watch on the screens. Anyway, I already convinced your stylists to help me look like one of them while we’re out exploring the district, so you don’t have to worry about the cameras finding me at all.”

I don’t fight the snicker that rises out of my throat, “You’re going to look like an absolute clown.”

“Maybe,” Riven agrees with his signature, lopsided grin, “but it will be worth it to spend more time with you two.”

With a smile, I slip my arms under Riven’s and wrap them around his middle, letting him bring his arms around my shoulders as he squeezes me close. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Riven breathes. We stay like that for a minute or so before he pulls back, keeping an arm around my shoulders as he guides me toward the door. “Now, how about we get some food into us before the others annihilate everything in sight?”

“Sounds good.” I allow Riven to pull me into the hallway and through the different train cars as my thoughts wander over everything that has happened in the last few days. As I recall the party last night and the events that I just barely recall happening, I stop in the middle of the hallway, urging Riven to stop and turn toward me. The first question on his tongue is if I’m alright and, instead of answering, I simply ask in return, “Why are ghosts terrible liars?”

For a moment, Riven appears confused, probably wondering where that question came from, but then it occurs to him that I’m repeating his question from last night. A smile spreads across his face and I can see the mischief rising in his gaze as he answers, “Because you can see right through them.”

My eyes slide closed as I struggle to fight the laugh that wants to burst forth. Eventually, a snort escapes me and I have to resort to a smirk as I meet Riven’s mirthful eyes, “That was so fucking dumb.”

“It still made you laugh,” Riven points out with a chuckle.

“It did not, you ass!”

“It absolutely did!” he retorts as I breeze past him.

My middle finger rises in retaliation as I press the button to open the door to the next car and scoff, “You suck.”

“You love me,” Riven beams, draping an arm over my shoulders once more.

“Sometimes, I wonder why I do,” I sigh, rolling my eyes at Riven’s confident smirk as I lean my head against him, “but yes, yes I do.”

#Scattered Screams

[hauntsect]

❛ please don’t make me do this. ❜ — @dollhidden Lucy!! HERO x VILLAIN sentence starters

It's one of those few moments in which Hyles's grin almost seems to reach his eyes – the sheer, unadultered joy pouring down as if it had been contained for centuries. He's helping her point the gun up, up, and center... right towards the abomination he himself had created. As it writhes and begs to be spared, soft laughter comes out of Hyles, as if he were laughing at the most innocent joke. Though he erases such an action before he fakes worry. Keep in character, he reminds himself as his grip against the girl's hands tighten.

"You have to do this, Lucy. You're the only one that can... Don't you see it is suffering? There's nothing more we can do..." And though the tender tone assures her of this, the humanoid monster continues to beg.

"Please, please... I need the antidote. I can be... good, I can be cured. Please, miss." It calls for her with a distorted, shrieking sound, monstruous hand outstretched towards the lady from afar. It's clear that the creature is shaking, avoiding the cold gaze of the scientist by her side.

"Kill him, Lucy, be merciful... Pull the trigger, my dear, pull it until it's dead."

#dollhidden #❥ ❝ scream all you like ❞ (ask) #❥ ❝ tireless the petals scatter ❞ (threads) #Hyles being a bit of a bad apple

[presleypictures]

Elvis and Scatter in the 1960s.

Scatter was the star attraction on a television show, hosted by "Cap'n Bill" Killebrew. He even had his own Club Scatter, well known by children. In 1961, the guys from the Memphis Mafia found out that Bill no longer wanted the chimpanzee on the show, and they told Elvis, who bought it from Bill. That's how Elvis adopted his new pet. 

He was trained and knew how to do all kinds of tricks and stunts. He lived several years in Graceland. But being constantly surrounded by Elvis's entourage was not the best environment for a little monkey, and Scatter quickly developed bad habits. 

He was like one of the Memphis Mafia. A very intelligent animal, but very conflictive. When a girl got up to go to the bathroom, for example, he would run and hide behind the bathroom door. And in a minute, Elvis and his boys knew they'd hear a bloodcurdling scream and see the girl shoot out of there screaming, and Scatter running after her.

He was dedicated to looking under the skirts of the girls. He also had a habit of biting people, including members of the Mafia.

Marty Lacker recalls: “We came home one night on Bellagio Road and found that Scatter had bitten Jimmy, the butler, real bad. Elvis was furious. Jimmy and Lillian were all upset and yelling and threatening to quit if Elvis didn't get rid of him.

Scatter was upset too. We kept him in the basement, underneath the steps, and Alan tried to get him to go downstairs to his cage, and he wouldn't.

Elvis finally calmed down, and he walked up to Scatter and he stood over him. Scatter was on top of his cabinet, and he looked up at Elvis with those innocent eyes, and all Elvis did was stare at him, trying to keep a straight face.

Finally, Elvis said, “You coconut-headed little mother fucker, you'd better get downstairs in your cage. And you'd better not bite anyone anymore, either.”

Scatter hopped off the cabinet, and he slowly walked downstairs like a man going to the electric chair, with his hands folded in front of him. We all followed him. Alan put his hand out for Scatter to hold it, but he wouldn't do it. He had too much pride. He just marched down to the basement and right into the cage. We came upstairs, and Elvis fell on the floor laughing.”

#COCONUT HEADED LITTLE MOTHERFUCKER #im screaming 💀 #elvis #elvis presley #elvis history #elvis presley history #elvis photos #elvis presley photos #elvis in the 60s #60s!elvis #60s elvis #scatter #music history #movie history #the king #king of rock n roll #rock n roll #elvis aaron presley #1960s

[personinthepalace]

Kate and Reynie being an iconic duo - The Mysterious Benedict Society

#kaynie #mysterious benedict society #the mysterious benedict society #kate wetherall #reynie muldoon #mbs disney spoilers #mbs disney season 2 #mbs disney video #kate and reynie #me amd my poor attempt at editing humor haha #I spent all day making this instead of working oops haha #FIRST KAYNIE SCENE OF THE SHOW #I WAS SILENTLY SCREAMING #watch til the end #I think that joke is my best hahaha #cunning kaynie is EVERYTHING #kate do you have pen? do I have a pen PLEASE hahaha #john mulaney #SCATTER #edits in the palace #videos in the palace #kaynie video #Youtube

[hussyknee]

I missed my kittens' Tricat booster shot in November! Will they have to restart everything??

I also didn't take our family tomcat Kaha for his follow up appointment and now his rash has spread all over again. I can't take the kittens today because I'm taking him for treatment. His rash only got so out of control because I was caught up taking care of the kittens the last few months.

I washed him (he disappears half the day and roams all over the neighbourhood, won't groom himself) and shut him up in the study so he wouldn't escape before I can take him to the vet in the afternoon. He's been yowling in outrage every time he hears someone outside the door. Poor baby. All I do is neglect him and then subject him to torment and imprisonment.

All my ADHD protocols went up in smoke the whole of last year because my mental health went up in flames and it was life crisis after crisis. I haven't even visited my dogs in months because I'm so tired and borderline agoraphobic after being sick so long.

I can't even take care of cats. What kind of a Mum am I? 😭

#exhausted all the time but idk what im exhausted of #im so fucking scattered #it's like trying to scoop marbles off the floor one-handed #my babies are all suffering and neglected 😭😭😭 #well the kittens arent suffering but i'm still letting them down #Goddamn it I wish I had help. #i want to neuter Kaha and keep him inside but that woman screams at me for ''torturing the poor animal'' every time i bring it up #wish i was a cat so someone would take care of me too #life update #cat mom problems #Éka Méka Moo #kitties #knee of huss #Méka Mau Moo