Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You took Remus out of school?"  

Remus Bellamay was supposed to be asleep. 

It was after 10 PM, and, while he did not have school anymore, he would be expected to help around the house, and to earn coin doing work for their wealthier neighbors, who were really just quarry workers who made more money than Da could since he had hurt his leg in an accident. He would need to be rested for that.  

But in the little two-room shack he shared with his parents and grandma, every whisper echoed.

 "Yes. I did. Books don't earn coin or fill our stomachs. Work will," his pa said.  

"Son, listen to me. That school that finally started allowing students from our town --it's his ticket to a better life. With an education, he can make something of himself. Without it, he'll always be a slave, chained to the quarries," his grandma replied.  

"And to the Capitol. Is that what you mean, Ma?" his pa asked.  The Capitol was the shining city that ran Panem. That much, Remus knew from his Pa. They controlled everything, and most of the stone from the quarries was used to build the fine buildings that the people there lived in.  Pa said that working for the Capitol was an honor.  His grandma said that the people in the Capitol believed that they were gods, ruling from on high and demanding tribute. 

 When they argued about it, his ma, who was quieter than a mouse, said nothing. 

 "And if I do, what of it? You know as well as I do that the Capitol is the reason that there was no school for you to go to, and the reason that Remus had no school until he was ten."  

"Ma, the Capitol was trying to organize a whole country out of isolated bands of savages and survivors. They needed stone and workers more than they needed schools and books."  

"Colorado was doing just fine until those Capitol folk poked their noses in and claimed we couldn't run our own land." 

 "We aren't Colorado anymore, Ma. We're District 2. And we're better for it."

 "Better for it? They call us uncivilized and take our wealth!"  

"They provided us with transportation. Electricity. Food."  

"And they closed our schools and put us all to work in their quarries!" 

"Judah, Betty, please don't squabble. It doesn't do no one any good," Remus' ma said. 

"Clementine, I don't want to cause trouble, but I can't let my son destroy Remus' future. He deserves a chance to learn!" 

"It won't matter if he learns if he starves!" Remus' pa exclaimed. 

"He won't starve. We pull in money enough," grandma said.

"Ma, what's my son going to do with books in a town where everyone works in the quarries?" 

"Be a quarry worker who can read and figure and think for himself, if nothing else," grandma replied.

Remus' pa snorted. 

"I never had no book learning, and I did just fine until that accident hurt my leg." 

"If you'd had learning, you could have filed a suit against the quarry for unsafe working conditions. But because you can't write your own name, you're still breaking your back in the same pit where you were left with that limp." 

Remus didn't know what a suit was, but he did know that quarry work was dangerous, and that it was mostly older people, people like his grandma, who could successfully argue against having their wages changed or get money after they couldn't work anymore. 

And grandma could read and write and do sums.

"Ma, you're talking treason!" 

"I'm talking truth!" 

"Judah, Betty, hush! You'll wake up Remus!" Remus' ma whispered. 

Remus rolled over on his straw mattress and tried to look like he really was asleep. 

"Aww, that boy could sleep through a thunderstorm. He'll be fine," pa said. 

"Judah, I tried to teach you how to read and write, but your Pa overruled me with his fists. You wanna be like your Pa, denying your boy the chance to read?" grandma asked. 

"You leave Pa out of this!"

For a second, the house was quiet. 

In the distance, a mountain lion shrieked. 

Then Remus' grandma sighed wearily. 

"Judah, I know life is hard. I know you want to provide for your boy. But this isn't the way." 

"Ma, there is no other way. Not with all the unrest. Not with all the uncertainty. Not with all the riots in the outer districts. If they have their way, we'll lose everything," Remus' pa said. 

"If they have their way, our work might benefit us, instead of the Capitol!"

"Ma, you can't go around saying things like that. Remus might start to repeat them, and then where would we be?" 

Grandma snorted.

"Maybe if more people had said things like that when the Capitol gave us technology in exchange for our freedom, we wouldn't be in this mess," she said. 

"What freedom? We had no electricity, no radios, no television, and no transportation besides horses and wagons! The Capitol gave us all those things, and more!" 

"And in exchange, they shut down our schools, took our sovereignty, and dubbed us all savages who needed proper work to be civilized!"

Remus' family didn't have electricity. They walked everywhere they went. And their radio only worked if you held onto the antennae. Even then, it was hard to understand what it said. 

Most of their neighbors had electricity. A couple of them even had TVs. 

But technology was expensive, and Pa didn't make enough money to afford it. 

Not since his injury.

Grandma frowned. 

"What will it gain a man, if he gains the whole world and loses his soul?" she asked. 

His pa frowned. 

"I don't need you to preach at me, Ma. I'm supporting my family. That's what a father's supposed to do. And when is the last time your God helped us?" 

"Judah, don't say things like that. It's not right, to question the Lord like that," Remus' ma said quietly.

"Clementine, you and ma can pray and go to church all you like. But don't bring me into it!" 

"Judah, you know I don't like to cross you. But I think your ma is right about Remus going to school. The boy is learning so much! He can even write his name!" Remus' ma said. 

Remus could. He could also add and subtract, and count up to a hundred. 

And he had only been attending the school for three months. He was proud of  that.

But he hated how stupid he felt, having to take lessons with little kids. 

All the other kids his age at the school had been going there for years, and they were way ahead of him.

"Clementine, we need the coin the boy can bring in. Maybe when the unrest dies down, when the outer districts fall back in line and the economy straightens out--maybe then we can send him back to school. But for now, we need him working, not reading books."

Remus' ma sighed. 

"All right, Judah. But you gotta promise me you'll send him back to school as soon as things get better," she said. 

"I promise, Clemmie," his pa replied. 

"And what if things don't get better, son? What then?" Grandma asked. 

"Then the boy works. Like I did. It's honest." 

"It's slavery. You're sacrificing your boy's mind so you can have electricity."

Remus frowned. As much as he hated being sneered at by the kids his age for not being able to read, he really did want to keep going to school. He wanted to be able to read, like his grandma could, and write more than his name. 

Even if everyone thought he was stupid, he knew better. 

And he wanted to prove the whisper he had overheard from his teacher wrong. 

"Ten's too old. He'll never learn more than the basics," she had said. 

Remus was sure she was wrong. 

But his father would prove her right.

Chapter Text

Remus spent all of the next morning running errands for anyone with coin who had work that needed doing. 

He was supposed to be in school. 

Instead, he was washing windows, scrubbing floors, and fetching goods from the market. 

"So much for Clementine sending her boy to school." 

"If you ask me, it's about time Judah came to his senses and stopped letting his Ma run his house. Old woman's crazy." 

"I don't know. My husband says that he was thinking of sending my Cleo to school, now that the next village over is allowing students who don't live there." 

"Cleo's only five. That boy is ten. Too old to learn. Better for him to learn to work than waste time with books he'll never learn to read."

Remus knew they were wrong. He knew that he noticed things that others didn't, and that he learned fast.

But that didn't matter to anyone but his ma and grandma, and pa had overruled them both.

When Remus came home after work, his grandma pulled him aside, sat him down, and opened up her battered old Bible. It was the thickest book that Remus had ever seen, and the most-read.

"Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD: and thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes. And thou shalt write them upon the posts of thy house, and on thy gates."

Even though the words were hard to understand, Remus understood what she had read. Words were important. They were how you served God. 

And his pa wanted to make sure he never had them. 

"Listen, Remus. Your Pa thinks words are a luxury. But they provide truth. The Capitol wants you to be ignorant, so that you'll serve them instead of the Lord. Even if you never do go back to school, I want you to remember that. Remember what was taken from you, and why."

His ma looked up nervously. 

"Betty, you can't say things like that. I know you're right, but if we talk that way, Judah could lose his job. Or worse."

Grandma shook her head.

"Wisdom is more precious than the finest jewels, Clementine. Would you have me lie to your son?"

"No, Betty, of course not. To lie is a terrible sin, but—but if we don't obey, we'll starve."

"We won't starve. My ma and pa, God rest their souls, taught me how to survive in the mountains. If all else fails, we can flee to the wilderness."

His pa came in just as grandma spoke of survival in the mountains. 

"Ma, if I ever catch you saying nonsense like that again, I'll—"

"You'll what? Beat me like your Pa did, Judah?"

Pa froze. 

"Ma, I swore I'd never use my fists like Pa, and I meant it. But I won't see my son live as a savage when he could live as a useful member of society."

"Pa, if you want me to be useful, can't you send me back to school? I learn fast–and I want to be able to read and write and cipher, like grandma can."

Pa shook his head. 

"Not now, Remus. But one day. As soon as the unrest dies down. As soon as I know the unrest in the outer districts won't cause us all to starve without your help."

Remus wanted to believe his pa. He did. 

But when his ma kissed him good night, he wondered—when would one day be? He was already so far behind. 

Chapter Text

One day never came. 

When Remus turned twelve, his Pa started him in the quarries. And when he pleaded to be allowed to return to school instead, Pa hit him and said he was a fool, for thinking about books when the whole town was having financial troubles. 

His ma wailed and cried, and his grandma had said that Pa was sacrificing Remus to an idol of gold, but Pa was afraid of starvation and disgrace, and he ignored them. 

He asked grandma to teach him after work, and she tried, but he was usually so tired after twelve hours of work that he could barely focus on anything but supper and sleep.  

And then, when he was thirteen, his grandma died of influenza when it swept through the mountains. 

When she was buried, Remus sobbed. Pa scolded him for it, telling him that he was too old to cry in public, and told him that he dishonored grandma by sobbing like a little girl. 

Remus had told his Pa that grandma had loved him, and that she had been his last chance to learn, and that he would cry for her if he wanted to. 

And his Pa had beaten him until he bled. 

Remus never cried again. 

Now, the unrest in the Districts had boiled over into open rebellion. With the exception of District 2, all 13 Districts were at war with the Capitol, and in 2, loyalists and rebels were battling in the streets. 

The violence had not yet reached Remus's town, but he knew it was only a matter of time. 

And Pa, who had been drinking heavily ever since grandma died, had taken out his fears about poverty and unrest on Ma and Remus with his fists. 

Remus was fifteen now. He was almost as tall as his Pa. But his Pa still ran the home. 

"Judah, Judah—please! You can't! Remus is only a boy! If you send him into the army, he'll die!" Ma pleaded. 

Pa scowled. 

"Don't you talk back to me, woman! We need to protect our home from these rebels, and since the army won't have me because of my bum knee, that means I'm honor-bound to send my son."

Remus swallowed hard. 

"Pa, I—"

"You'll do what I say!"

Remus looked at his ma, who still wept, and nodded. For her sake, he would do as his Pa said. Better that he join the army than have his Pa take out his fury on Ma. 

"All right, Pa. I'll go."

His Pa marched him to the recruitment office for the Capitol army, and Remus scrawled his name on the recruitment form. 

They gave him a uniform and a gun, and two days later, he was on the front lines. 

Most of the other men from his town died in the battle. 

Remus, who had not followed the rest of his unit when they chased down what seemed to be a fleeing band of rebels, survived.

*******************************************************************

Remus was terrified, at first. 

He was terrified of the screams of the dying, of the explosions of artillery, and of the fact that every time he held his rifle steady and fired, another person died. 

And when he was captured by a rebel army and sent to a POW camp, he was petrified, at first. 

But as he was beaten and chained and starved, his mind worked. And he started to notice patterns. He noticed when the guards paid attention to the prisoners, and when they slacked. He memorized the schedule of the warden. 

He learned where the weapons were kept. 

And he used his status as a boy of only sixteen to his advantage. His captors did not think him a threat. 

He had slack on his chains. And he used it to slip into the room where the weapons were kept, arm the other prisoners, and take over the camp. 

He was promoted to sergeant major after his victory, and sent back to the front lines. 

He was in command of men as old as his father. 

It was sobering. But he knew he was capable.

And he was. His company was instrumental in the full defeat of the rebel forces in District 2 six months later. 

Remus was wounded in the shoulder during the battle, but survived. 

The Capitol provided him with a shiny medal, and sent him back to the front lines. 

Nine months later, the war ended. The rebels in the Districts had been defeated. District 13 had been bombed off the map. And the Capitol was victorious. 

Remus, at eighteen, was a sergeant major, a decorated war hero, and now—what?

Chapter Text

Sent home. 

They had taken his rifle, and sent him home.

The war was over. They called him a hero, praised his loyalty—and took the only life he had. 

He could barely read. He could write nothing but his name. And he had spent three years on the battlefield, fighting for his life and the lives of his men. 

Now they expected him to become a civilian, to live in his old town like nothing had changed. 

They hadn't even provided him with a pension. The Capitol soldiers he had led received pensions. But he had been born in District 2. So he had received nothing.

Did they expect him to return to the quarries? 

As he looked around his shack in frustration, he almost laughed.  

His folks were dead. 

His ma had died of cholera three weeks after he was first sent to the front lines.

His pa had been killed when a bomb flattened the bar he had been drinking in two months before the war ended. 

His grandma had been buried long ago, and her bones rested under the mountains she had once tried to convince them to flee to. 

But the old shack still looked the same. He half-expected his Pa to stumble in yelling about lost coin, or for his ma to come in with the mending. 

Even empty, the place was filled with their ghosts.  

And he was as much of a spirit as they were. He had no life in this town. Not now. He was just another spook, haunting the place he had once called home.

Remus' eye fell on his grandma's old Bible, and her voice echoed in his head. 

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD: and thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children.

Once, he had wanted to read it; to know it by heart as she did. 

Now he never would. 

***************************************************************************

Three days after Remus was sent home, the news came over his broken-down old radio, the one that only worked when you held its antennae. 

In fiery terms, President Ravinstill condemned the rebellion, bemoaned the cost of the war, and the benevolence of the Capitol in not simply destroying all the Districts as punishment for rising against their leaders. 

Never again, he said, could such a calamity take place. 

Then Dr. Volumnia Gaul, the head of the War Department, spoke. 

"You rebelled. And you failed. Now you pay the price. In penance for your uprising, each District will offer up a male and a female between the ages of twelve and eighteen at a public reading. These…tributes, shall we call them?....shall be delivered to the custody of the  Capitol, and then transferred to a public arena, where they will fight to the death, until a lone victor remains."

She snickered. 

"You all fought like savages in the war. Now your children will fight like savages in peace. And the winner will be the one who knows what I already do: that humans will commit any depravity to live."

Then President Ravinstill spoke once more. 

"Henceforth and forever more, this pageant will be known as the Hunger Games. The reaping will commence in three months."

Remus' eyes widened, and he dropped the radio in shock. 

Fight to the death. 

District 2 was to send its children to fight to the death. 

Then he smiled grimly. 

Three months from now was July 4th. He did not turn nineteen until October 22nd. 

He was eligible to be sent to kill and to die. 

And what was that, to him? It was all he had even been taught to do. 

These Games would only be another battlefield. 

********************************************************

Remus borrowed the telephone from the wealthiest person in his town, and called the Mayor of District 2. 

"Hello? Who is this?" the mayor asked. 

"Remus Bellamay. Sergeant Major, first class. I want to talk about the Hunger Games," he said. 

The mayor sighed. 

"If this is about sparing your child from the death lottery, I am sorry. My hands are tied. The Capitol says all eligible children must be included, and I cannot risk their wrath," he said. 

"You don't understand. I'm eighteen. I don't turn nineteen until October 22nd. That makes me eligible for the lottery myself." 

"Then your name will be in the lottery, I fear. Even service does not excuse you."

"Good. Have my name be the only male name in the lottery. I know how to fight. I have done nothing but kill, since I was fifteen. Better send me than some untrained boy."

"But the Capitol—"

"The Capitol wants a body, and they want blood. I will give them both. As long as someone is sent, they will not care who. In fact, I'm what they want. A killer. Send me."

The mayor was silent for several seconds. 

"Very well. If you want to die, I won't refuse you."

Remus actually laughed. 

"Mr. Mayor, I'm already dead. My life was buried under the mountains when my ma and pa died."

Chapter Text

Three months later, Remus stood in the capital of District 2, surrounded by hundreds of boys between twelve and eighteen. Across the square, girls of the same ages were gathered. 

The rest of the District, mas and pas and aunts and uncles and grandparents, stood behind them. 

It was like a festival, except no one was happy. 

Some people were stone-faced and grim. Some were shaking with rage. The younger boys and most of the girls were sobbing. 

And Remus looked around and wondered what he was doing, surrounded by these children.  

He was a warrior and a killer. He had commanded soldiers. And he was in the same lottery as the boy next to him, who could be no more than 12, and was sobbing into a handkerchief. 

The mayor walked to the front of the stage that had been erected in front of the Justice Center, and apologized desperately to the crowd, and then pulled a folded slip of paper out of an old hat. 

"The…the female tribute is Clementine Marelli." 

The crowd whispered and muttered, and then someone let out a shriek. 

"No! No! NO! Not my daughter! Not my child! Please!" a woman screamed. In response, two soldiers grabbed her and forced her to her knees. 

Remus wondered how anyone would be able to identify one girl amongst a crowd of hundreds. Finding her could take hours, or more.

"Clementine Marelli! If you do not mount the stage, we are authorized to shoot into the crowd until you do," a soldier barked. 

Well, that was one way to speed the process up. 

There was a long pause, and then a slender, dark-haired girl, who looked no more than 15, emerged from the crowd. 

The soldiers lowered their rifles. 

As Clementine made her way to the stage, she was sobbing openly, and she fell to her knees the second she made it to the platform. 

"How…how old are you?" the mayor asked. He sounded stricken. 

"Fourteen. Please…please, can't you let me go? I never fought nobody," she pleaded. 

"I…I can't. I can't. Forgive me."

Fourteen. And she had the same name as his Ma. Clementine. 

Then the mayor swallowed hard and reached into the second hat with shaking hands. 

Remus stiffened. 

Had the mayor fulfilled his request? 

Or would he stand here, uselessly, as some helpless boy was sent to fight and die in the place of men? 

As the mayor drew a slip from the hat, his hands shook so badly that he nearly dropped the slip, and, as he unfolded it, the paper tore. 

But he still read out a name. 

"The male tribute is Remus Bellamay." 

Remus smiled. The mayor had kept their bargain. 

He walked to the stage calmly, his back perfectly straight, and mounted the steps quickly. 

"I…I'm sorry, son," the mayor said. 

"Don't be. I wanted this."

The mayor looked like he wanted to cry as he stepped forward. 

"Panem, I…I present the tributes of District 2. Clementine Marelli and Remus Bellamay!" 

He was a wolf. She was a lamb to the slaughter. And the Capitol presented them as equals. 

Was this the order he had fought for? 

"Forgive me, both of you. Please," the mayor said. 

For a moment---just a moment---Remus wanted to tell the mayor, to tell all the adults in the crowd, to stop apologizing and staring. 

To fight, rather than send their children to do it. 

But then he remembered who he was, and where he was. 

He was not a child, to plead for protection. 

He was a soldier. 

He would fight. 

The soldiers came up to the stage, four of them, and dragged Remus and Clementine towards the nearby train station. 

"Please, sir--my ma and pa! My brothers! Ain't you gonna let me say good-bye?" Clementine asked. 

"Shut up! We don't have time for that!" one of the soldiers replied. He hit Clementine with the butt of his rifle, and she whimpered in pain.

In the army, they had beaten him when he had asked leave to go home and mourn his ma. But he had been a soldier, and that was war. 

This was just a girl. 

But he had seen worse in the war. So he said nothing.

When they reached the train station, Remus felt like he had been kicked in the gut. 

This wasn't a train for passengers, or even transport for soldiers. 

It was a cattle car.

Clementine's hand flew to her mouth, and her sobs got louder. 

She reached out for Remus and grabbed his arm. Remus let her cling. It made no difference, either way, and if he comforted her, so much the better. 

One of the soldiers threw open the door to the cattle car, which echoed with a loud clang.

Remus and Clementine were shoved in so violently that Clementine lost her balance, and both of them fell to the floor. 

Clementine shrieked hysterically. 

The floor of the car was covered in dried blood.

Before Remus could get back to his feet, the soldiers came in behind them, and chained Clementine to the wall of the car. 

Remus didn't know where they had found cuffs that fit wrists as thin as hers, and he desperately didn't want to think about what that implied. 

So he didn't. 

He was bracing himself to be chained as well when one of the soldiers held up his hand. 

"No need to chain him. He's one of ours. A sergeant major."

The other soldier looked at the first in disbelief. 

"He's District." 

The older soldier shrugged. 

"He's District 2. A lot of the quarrymen fought on our side." 

"And he's got the Medal of Valor. He's a war hero!" a third soldier chimed in. He was the youngest of the three, maybe a year older than Remus at most. 

"How could they give a District person that sort of medal?" the first soldier asked. 

The oldest man shrugged. 

"Even a service dog can risk his life. Better to reward the loyal ones than risk them turning against us."

Remus felt a flicker of fury. He had risked his life for the Capitol, and they called him a dog. 

Then he pushed his rage down. 

Dog. Fine. 

He was a soldier. 

If they called him a dog, they would see how well he bit when they commanded it. 

And they would remember that a dog who followed commands was more useful than a man who didn't.

"Thank you, sir. For your service," the youngest soldier said. 

"No need to thank me. I obey. That's all you need to know," Remus replied. 

With that, the soldiers stepped out of the cattle car, and slammed the door shut.

When the door closed them inside, Clementine's sobs got louder. To her, no doubt, it was like being buried alive. 

But to Remus, it was just another cage. 

He looked around the cattle car, and saw that another boy and girl were chained across from them. 

Both looked to be about sixteen, with blonde hair and green eyes.

And both were dressed more finely than any children he had ever seen. 

Even the wealthiest in Two didn't waste their money on finery like that. 

District 1, though, had always wasted money on frivolous things. 

Both boy and girl looked afraid, but also resentful, like they thought themselves too good for mud and muck and dried blood. 

The girl spoke first. 

"Of all the Districts we could have picked up first, it would have to have been the dogs of District 2." 

She gestured at Remus as best she could with her wrists cuffed. 

"You must be really disappointed, huh, Rover? Even after you rolled over for them and bit who they told, they still sent you to die in the pound."

"I chose to be here, instead of a child. That's more than you can say."

Clementine whimpered and clung to Remus. 

The girl from One snickered. 

"On the other hand, that one's just a puppy. Better one attack dog than two." 

"I...I ain't no dog!" Clementine cried. Then she burst back into tears.

"You're right. At least a dog doesn't know better than to obey. District 2 sold out the rest of us. You sided with the Capitol over your own---and for what? You're being sent to die just like the rest of us," the District One girl spat.

The boy from One shook his head. 

"Topaz, why yell at them? It's not their fault we're here, and she's just a kid," he said. 

"Why waste manners on the Capitol's war dogs, Tourmaline? You think it'll make that one show you mercy in the arena?" 

"It might. And even if not, how does calling him a dog help you?"

"What are your names? I'm Tourmaline, and this is Topaz. Normally she has better manners than this, but, well---she's scared. So am I, for that matter," the District 1 boy said. 

"I am not scared. I am furious!" 

Her voice told Remus she was both. 

Clementine sniffed. 

"I...I'm Clementine," she said. 

"How old are you?" Tourmaline asked. 

"Fourteen." 

Tourmaline frowned. 

"That's so young. Topaz and I are sixteen." 

"My older brother Mason is 16," Clementine replied. 

"My little sister Fluff is about your age. And they want me to kill you. I won't. We're better than that," Tourmaline said. 

Remus snorted. 

This boy would learn better in the arena. 

"What's your name?" Tourmaline asked. 

"Remus Bellamay. Sergeant Major, first class," he said. 

"They let District 2 send a man? That's unfair!" Topaz exclaimed. 

"I'm 18," Remus said. 

"An 18-year-old sergeant? But they don't even let you enlist until you're 18!" Tourmaline replied. 

"In District 2, they do. I was sent to the frontlines at 15," Remus replied.

"You've been fighting for three years? They might as well declare you the Victor right now! This is so unfair!" Topaz shrieked. 

"They're sending children to die. Fair doesn't matter. Only survival. You want to live? Stay out of my way," Remus replied. 

Then he turned to Clementine. 

"I won't kill you. As soon as the fighting starts, run. Hide. And don't try to take anyone on. Maybe then you survive."

Chapter Text

When the train next jolted to a stop, Remus immediately noticed the sound of crashing waves and the smell of salt water. 

District 4. 

"Where are we now, Remus?" Clementine asked. 

"4. The fishing district," Remus said flatly. 

"I always wanted a seaside vacation. Too bad we won't get to enjoy the sea," Tourmaline said. 

About ten minutes later, the door to the cattle car was thrown open with a clang, and another boy and girl were quickly and efficiently chained down inside. 

The boy, who looked to be about 17, was tall and bronzed and handsome. The girl, who couldn't be more than 13, was small and wiry and tanned. 

As the door slammed shut, the girl spoke first. 

"So, the lapdogs, the attack dogs, and the sea dogs. Which of us do you figure has the best shot?" she asked. 

Topaz rolled her eyes. 

"Don't they teach you fishermen manners?" 

"Topaz!" Tourmaline exclaimed. 

The girl snorted. 

"Manners don't catch fish," she said. 

"What's your name?" Tourmaline asked. 

"Siren O'Malley. I'm 12. And the pretty boy with me is Herman Sail, 17. His old man owns his own boat and everything."

Siren smiled, and kept talking. 

"Me? I grew up by the wharves. Made what money I could from diving for pearls, and stole the rest. Bet ol' Herman never thought he'd end up being sent to fight in a cattle car with the likes of me," she said. 

She paused just long enough to take a breath. 

"So, who are you lot?" 

"Clementine. I'm 14. I...I just wanna go home. Ma and Pa need me," Clementine said. 

"I'm Tourmaline,  and this is Topaz. We're second cousins. Both of us are 16," Tourmaline said. 

"How about you? You're looking at us like a shark in a pond full of minnows," Siren asked. 

"Remus Bellamay. Sergeant Major, first class. 18."

Siren snickered. 

"Easy, soldier boy. I'm your fellow prisoner, not your interrogator." 

Herman frowned. 

"He is the enemy. He fought for the Capitol. Men like him are the reason we were sent to die," he said.

"Aww, get off your high horse, Herman. Your old man made a fortune off selling boats to the Capitol during the war, and everyone knows it. At least soldier boy over there risked his life. Your old man just got rich," Siren said.

Herman flushed. 

"Don't talk about my father!" 

"Why not, Herman? Everyone knows he tried to buy your way out of the lottery," Siren shot back.

"Ladies, gentlemen, please. We're all stuck here. We're all being sent to die. Let's not argue amongst ourselves. It doesn't help anything," Tourmaline pleaded. 

Topaz rolled her eyes. 

"My cousin the pacifist. We aren't friends here. The second we get in the arena, we'll all be trying to kill each other." 

"Probably. But bickering now accomplishes nothing. Save your strength for the arena," Remus said.

Siren laughed. 

"Aye-aye, soldier boy! After all, I'll be sure to be able to kill you if I shut up. Never mind that you have a foot and half and a hundred fifty pounds on me." 

"So you can read a battlefield. Good. Flee, don't fight. And maybe you live. You're clever. Quick. And if the stronger fighters take themselves out, you'd slit someone's throat to get home." 

Siren smirked. 

"I would, at that. Don't want to, but I got a kid sister to feed. Thanks for the advice, soldier boy."

Siren was only twelve. But except for Remus himself, she had the best chance of anyone in the cattle car so far. 

Because she had already accepted what it meant to live on the battlefield.

When the train next pulled to a stop, the cattle car was flooded with the scent of pine trees. 

District 7. 

"Where are we now, Remus?" Clementine asked. 

"Seven. Paper and lumber," Remus replied. 

"And completely uncivilized. They all just live in the woods, like beasts," Topaz sniffed. 

"That cannot be true. Some of them work the paper mills," Herman replied. 

"Well, none of them have manners, at any rate," Topaz replied. 

"Yes. They're all either sickly mill workers, or lumberjacks. No polish, either way," Herman agreed.

Ten minutes later, the door to the cattle was opened with a shriek of rusted metal. 

The boy was small, thin, and coughing, and his glasses were too big for his face. 

The girl could easily have been twenty, and had the shoulders of someone who had swung an axe for years. 

And as she and the boy were chained down, she spat at the soldiers. 

The soldier hit her across the face hard enough to make Tourmaline wince, and Clementine burst into tears. 

But the girl barely reacted. 

And as soon as the door slammed shut, she fixed Remus with a glare. 

"The second we're in the arena, I'm cutting you down. You fought to enslave our people," she said.

"Oh, we got a clever one here! Now soldier boy knows who to kill first!" Siren exclaimed. 

"He killed with guns, not blades. Don't think there's gonna be a rifle in the arena," the girl replied. 

"Probably not. So maybe you will kill me. Maybe not. But save the talk about it until then," Remus said. 

"I'm Tourmaline, and this is my cousin Topaz. We're from District 1. Both of us are 16." 

The girl nodded grimly. 

"Misty Woodwork. 18. I know I look older, but that's what comes of working the woods." 

She gestured at the boy. 

"He's Leaf Logan. 13. I don't know much about him beyond that. I never saw him before today."

"I'm Clementine. I'm 14. And I just wanna go home," Clementine said weakly. 

"Me, too," Leaf said. Then he burst into tears. 

"Aww, don't cry. I'm smaller than both of you, and I'm not boo-hooing," Siren said. 

Then she turned to Misty with a smirk. 

"Siren O'Malley. I'm 12. The pretty boy is Herman. He's 17, and his old man tried to bribe his way out of the lottery. And soldier boy from 2 is Remus something. He's a Sergeant Major, first class. And that's about all he'll tell you."

 Remus frowned and fixed Leaf with a stare. 

"You. Run. Hide. Stay out of my way. Don't fight, or you die. Got it?" 

Leaf just sobbed harder. 

Remus decided he was a lost cause, and looked at Misty. 

"You already know what to do. Kill me if you can," he said. 

Misty spat on the ground. 

"I will."

Chapter Text

As the hours rolled past, more and more children were loaded into the cattle car. 

District 5 sent a 15-year-old boy named Fisser Heimer, who seemed to talk only in long words, and a 17-year-old girl named Haseya, whose long black hair fell past her waist. 

From District 9, there was 14-year-old Sickle Drew and 16-year-old Rosie Palmer, who were both small and thin and malnourished. Both of them seemed terrified of everyone, especially Remus and Misty. 

 From District 10, there was a 15-year-old beauty named Maria Lorenzo and a burly 17-year-old farmhand named Tomas Esposito. Maria spoke only what her partner called Spanish, and he had to translate for her. 

District 3 provided a dark-haired, ashen-skinned 15-year-old girl named Diode Lee, whose whole family had been executed as rebels, and a 15-year-old boy named Pierre Jameson, who had dark skin and dark hair and talked like he had swallowed a schoolhouse worth of books. 

District 6 sent Poppy Vale, a 16-year-old homeless girl, and Joshua Mendel, a quiet 15-year-old boy who wore a strange sort of cap on his head.  

District 8 offered a 16-year-old boy named Thread Brown, who was blind and deaf, and a 14-year-old girl named Cotton Mather, who was so sick she could hardly stand. 

District 11 provided another 12-year-old, a boy named Frederick Douglass Merril, whose name was longer than he was, and who was immediately adopted as a new best friend by Siren, and a 16-year-old girl named Freedom Lowell, who wore a uniform of her own. She was a rebel soldier...or had been. 

She and Remus did not threaten each other or throw insults. Unlike Misty, Freedom knew what war really was.   

"I don't hunt your partner if you don't hunt mine," Remus said flatly. 

"Fair," Freedom replied.

And that was that.

Now the train pulled into its last stop before the Capitol. 

District 12. 

The cattle car echoed with birdsong, which seemed perverse under the circumstances.

Frederick Douglass smiled. 

"The mockingjays are singing," he said. 

Siren laughed. 

"And they sound a fair sight prettier than I would. For all my old lady called me Siren, I can't carry a tune in a bucket."

"Maybe she should have named you Tone Deaf," Frederick Douglass replied. 

Siren laughed again. 

"See, kids? Freddie knows what's up! No tears from either of us, and we're the smallest of all!"

Clementine smiled weakly. 

"The birds sound nice. Like Ma when she sings in church." 

Remus' Ma had sung in church once, too. 

Pa had used to say her voice could make rocks weep. 

But that had been long, long ago.

"My momma sings in church, too. But I didn't know District 2 had churches. I thought you worshipped the Capitol," Rosie from 9 said quietly. 

Remus' grandma had accused his Pa of doing exactly that. 

And maybe he had. He sure sacrificed enough to them.

And then Freedom started to sing.

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen

Nobody knows but Jesus

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen

Glory hallelujah!

Frederick Douglass joined in on the first verse. 

Sometimes I’m up, sometimes I’m down

Oh yes, Lord

Sometimes I’m almost to the ground

Oh yes, Lord

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen

 Nobody knows but Jesus 

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen

 Glory hallelujah!

Clementine, Rosie, Sickle, and Pierre from 3 joined in on the second verse. 

Now you may think that I don’t know

Oh yes, Lord

But I’ve had my troubles here below

Oh yes, Lord

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen

Nobody knows but Jesus

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen

Glory hallelujah!

Misty shook her head.

"Waste of time. Music won't keep us alive," she muttered.

Remus knew she was wrong. There was a reason soldiers and prisoners sang. 

But he held his tongue. 

"Oh, those outer districts and their primitive superstitions," Topaz sniffed. 

"I don't know, Topaz. I think it's beautiful," Tourmaline replied.

One day when I was walkin’ along

Oh yes, Lord

The sky opened up and love come down

Oh yes, Lord

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen

 Nobody knows but Jesus

 Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen 

Glory hallelujah!

By this point, Diode from 3,  Leaf from 7, and Poppy from 6 had also joined in the song. 

And the mockingjays outside had started to echo it.

I never shall forget that day

Oh yes, Lord

When Jesus washed my sins away

Oh yes, Lord. 

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen

Nobody knows but Jesus

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen-- 

The singing was cut off when the door to the cattle car slammed open, and the soldiers shoved the two last children inside. 

Both had gray eyes, olive skin, and dark hair, both were covered in coal dust, and both were scrawny. 

The girl's wrists were so thin she could slide them out of the cuffs.

As the door slammed shut, the boy sighed. 

"Well, at least a sword to the gut is faster than starving to death," he muttered. 

The girl shook. 

"Your song was beautiful. The mockingjays only copy good singers," she said.

"Who are you?" Tourmaline asked. 

"I'm Lulabelle Elroy. I'm sixteen. And this is Owen McCoy. He's seventeen," the girl replied.

"Welcome to the choir. I'm Frederick Douglas. That's Freedom, Diode, Pierre, Poppy, Rosie, Sickle, and Clementine." 

Clementine gave a shy wave. 

"Clementine? That reminds me of a song I heard from the Covey," Lulalbelle said. 

Owen frowned. 

"My papaw said to stay away from the Covey. Nobody knows anything about them, and like as not, they're a bunch of thieves. They dress too pretty for poor folk." 

Lulabelle shook her head. 

"I don't think they're thieves. Just different, that's all."

"Do you remember how the song with my name in it went?" Clementine asked. 

"I think so. Let's see." 

Lulabelle hummed a few bars, and then started to sing. 

In a cavern, in a canyon,

Excavating for a mine,

Dwelt a miner, forty-niner,

And his daughter, Clementine.

Oh my darling, Oh my darling,

Oh my darling Clementine,

You are lost and gone forever,

Dreadful sorry Clementine.

After Lulabelle finished Clementine's song, Joshua, the quiet boy from District 6, sang a song in a language no one knew. 

Hineh ma tov u’ma’naim 

Shevet achim gam yachad.

Then he switched to English. 

It’s like precious oil flowing

Down the beard of Aharon

From the top of his head

To the edge of his robe

Hineh, hineh ma tov.

The boy and girl from 10 sang next. 

De colores, de colores se visten los campos en la primavera

De colores, de colores son los pajaritos que vienen de afuera

De colores, de colores es el arco iris que vemos lucir

Y por eso los grandes amores de muchos colores me gustan a mí

Y por eso los grandes amores de muchos colores me gustan a mí.

Sickle and Rosie from District 9 took over next. 

Give me that old time religion,

Give me that old time religion,

Give me that old time religion,

It's good enough for me.

Freedom and Frederick Douglass caught on immediately and joined in, and by the time they reached the last verse, even Misty, Topaz, and Remus had joined in the clapping.

 Fission Heimer, from 5, exchanged a glance with his partner, Haseya.

"You first," he said. 

She smiled and sang. 

The first man holds it in his hands

He holds the sun in his hands

In the center of the sky, he holds it in his hands

As he holds it in his hands, it starts upward.

The first woman holds it in her hands

She holds the moon in her hands

In the center of the sky, she holds it in her hands

As she holds it in her hands, it starts upward.

The first man holds it in his hands

He holds the sun in his hands

In the center of the sky, he holds it in his hands

As he holds it in his hands, it starts downward.

The first woman holds it in her hands

She holds the moon in her hands

In the center of the sky, she holds it in her hands

As she holds it in her hands, it starts downward.

Fission didn't sing, exactly. But somehow he and Pierre from 3 made reciting what they called the Periodic Table sound musical anyway.

Cotton Mather, the sickly girl from 8, sang next, in a failing voice strengthened by the pair from 11, Lulabelle from 12, Leaf from 7, and Clementine. 

This little light of mine,

I’m gonna let it shine;

This little light of mine,

I’m gonna let it shine;

This little light of mine,

I’m gonna let it shine,

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

"How about you, Siren?" Frederick Douglass asked. 

"Oh, no. I already told you. I can't carry a tune in a bucket," she said. 

But her partner, Herman, could. 

As I was a walking down Paradise Street

A pretty young damsel I chanced for to meet.

She was round in the counter and bluff in the bow,

So I took in all sail and cried, "Way enough now."

I hailed her in English, she answered me clear,

"I'm from the Black Arrow bound to the Shakespeare."

So I tailed her my flipper and took her in tow

And yardarm to yardarm away we did go.

But as we were going she said unto me

There's a spanking full-rigger just ready for sea.

That spanking full-rigger to New York was bound;

She was very well manned and very well found.

And as soon as that packet was out on the sea,

'Twas devilish hard treatment of every degree.

But as soon as that packet was clear of the bar

The mate knocked me down with the end of a spar.

It's starboard and larboard on deck you will sprawl

For Kicking Jack Williams commands the Black Ball.

So I give you fair warning before we belay,

Don't ever take heed of what pretty girls say.

A bonnie good mate and a captain too,

A bonnie good ship and a bonnie good crew,

Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down;

Blow the man down, bullies, pull him around.

"So, the rich boy has a song in him after all. Maybe I was too hard on you, after all," Siren said. 

"And maybe I was a bit of a snob," Herman replied. 

"Try a lot," Siren said cheekily. 

Frederick Douglass laughed. 

"Okay, a lot," Herman admitted.

Diode from 3 sang next. 

Hēi hēi dē tiān kōng dī chuí,

Liàng liàng dē fán xīng xiāng suí,

Chóng ér fēi, chóng ér fēi, nǐ zài sì niàn shuí.

Tiān shàng dē xīng xīng liú leì,

Dì sháng de méi guì kū wěi,

Lěng fēng chuī, lěng fēng chuī,

Zhǐ yào yǒu nǐ péi.

Chóng ér fēi, huā ér shuì,

Yī shuāng yòu yī duì cái měi,

Bú pà tiān hēi, zhǐ pà xīn suì,

Bù guǎn leì bú leì,

Yě bù guǎn dōng nán xī běi.

Misty looked at Leaf. Leaf looked at Misty. 

And Misty sighed, and both sang. 

"I forbid you maidens all that wear gold in your hair

To travel to Carterhaugh for young Tam Lin is there

None that go by Carterhaugh but they leave him a pledge

Either their mantles of green or else their maidenhead"

Janet tied her kirtle green a bit above her knee

And she's gone to Carterhaugh as fast as go can she

She'd not pulled a double rose, a rose but only two

When up there came young Tam Lin says "Lady, pull no more"

"And why come you to Carterhaugh without command from me?"

"I'll come and go", young Janet said, "and ask no leave of thee"

Janet tied her kirtle green a bit above her knee

And she's gone to her father as fast as go can she

Well, up then spoke her father dear and he spoke meek and mild

"Oh, and alas, Janet, " he said, "I think you go with child"

"Well, if that be so, " Janet said, "myself shall bear the blame

There's not a knight in all your hall shall get the baby's name

For if my love were an earthly knight as he is an elfin grey

I'd not change my own true love for any knight you have"

Janet tied her kirtle green a bit above her knee

And she's gone to Carterhaugh as fast as go can she

"Oh, tell to me, Tam Lin, " she said, "why came you here to dwell?"

"The Queen of Faeries caught me when from my horse I fell

And at the end of seven years she pays a tithe to hell

I so fair and full of flesh and feared it be myself

But tonight is Hallowe'en and the faerie folk ride

Those that would their true love win at Miles Cross they must buy

So first let past the horses black and then let past the brown

Quickly run to the white steed and pull the rider down

For I'll ride on the white steed, the nearest to the town

For I was an earthly knight, they give me that renown

Oh, they will turn me in your arms to a newt or a snake

But hold me tight and fear not, I am your baby's father

And they will turn me in your arms into a lion bold

But hold me tight and fear not and you will love your child

And they will turn me in your arms into a naked knight

But cloak me in your mantle and keep me out of sight"

In the middle of the night she heard the bridle ring

She heeded what he did say and young Tam Lin did win

Then up spoke the Faerie Queen, an angry queen was she

Woe betide her ill-farred face, an ill death may she die

"Oh, had I known, Tam Lin, " she said, "what this knight I did see

I have looked him in the eyes and turned him to a tree."

Then Clementine smiled, and sang.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:

He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:

His truth is marching on.

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

His truth is marching on.

Remus knew this song. His grandma had loved it.

Like the song from District 9, this one swept up everyone. 

Several kids were off-beat. 

Siren was off-beat, off-key, and in the wrong octave. 

Remus hadn't sung in years. 

Thread Brown from 8, who was deaf, couldn't hear the words, but he could apparently feel the rhythm, because he clapped along. 

Topaz seemed to be in disbelief that she was singing. 

But all 24 children in the car were united in song. 

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps,

They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;

I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:

His day is marching on.

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

His truth is---

The door to the cattle car slammed open, and a soldier fired his gun.

Chapter Text

Clementine slumped over, and Remus knew without having to look that she was dead.

The younger children screamed. Freedom threw herself over Frederick Douglass. 

Siren swore, using words it seemed very wrong for a twelve-year-old to know. 

And Remus shook his head. 

This was what came of disobedience. 

Maybe, if he had told the group to stop singing, Clementine would still be alive.

The soldier fired two more times, and Thread from 8 and Fission from 5 were both shot. Thread was killed instantly, but Fission was only grazed. 

But that injury meant a slow death for him in the arena.

"Quiet! Quiet! NOW!" Remus roared. 

The other tributes froze and fell silent. 

Most of them also looked terrified of him, and Topaz and Misty glared at him like they had suddenly remembered he was the attack dog of District 2. 

But at least it put an end to the bullets.

Remus and the other 21 surviving tributes were herded into the back of an armored van at gunpoint. 

When the door slammed behind them, Leaf started to cry again, and Misty grabbed Remus by the collar and slammed him against the wall of the van. 

The impact knocked the wind out of him. 

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't snap your neck right now!" she roared. 

Remus simply pointed at her district partner. 

And Misty let him go. 

"Fine. But the second we go into the arena, you're dead."

When the van came to a stop, the doors were opened with a bang, and Remus saw the Capitol he had fought to protect for the first time. 

It was not the glorious city his Pa had once talked about. 

Instead, it looked to be little more than a bombed-out ruin. 

There was a large crowd of Capitol citizens. Some of them looked morbidly curious to see the tributes. Some of them looked ashamed, like even they knew this was wrong.

But most of them were furious at the tributes, who, in their eyes, represented the horrors of war the Rebellion had visited upon them, rather than the children they actually were.

The crowd threw garbage, rotten food, and insults, and Remus thought it was a mercy that Maria from 10 only spoke Spanish and could not understand them. 

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Joshua from 6 muttered under his breath.

Then, someone threw a brick. It hit Freedom, the 16-year-old tribute from 11, right in the head, and she collapsed. Frederick Douglass screamed, and Remus, despite his chains, knelt to see if she was still alive. 

She was, but not for long. 

As Remus watched, the Rebel soldier who had lived through three years of war, died on the sidewalk of the Capitol she had fought against. 

This was not how a soldier should die.

"Get up and get moving, dog!" one of the soldiers barked at Remus. 

Remus wanted to tell the soldier that he had been wounded in action for the sake of the Capitol, and that this was not the civil order he had fought to defend. 

Instead, he saluted to a man he technically outranked and obeyed.

"You okay, soldier boy?" Siren whispered as the soldiers forced the tributes towards an enormous amphitheater. 

Remus shook his head. 

"Worry about yourself. We will be enemies, soon enough." 

Topaz sniffed haughtily. 

"I knew it. Once a Capitol attack dog, always a Capitol attack dog."

The tributes were forced into the amphitheater through the turnstiles one at a time. Every time a tribute went through, a prerecorded voice said, 

"Enjoy the show!" 

Remus almost laughed. He was sure the Capitol would.

Since he had stopped to see if Freedom was dead, Remus was the last of the tributes to pass through the turnstiles. 

What he saw as he passed through made his blood run cold. 

He, and the other 20 tributes who had made it into the arena alive, were standing in the middle of a giant, empty arena. 

A huge pile of weapons, including swords, knives, spears, axes, and maces, had been placed in the middle of the arena. 

As Misty had predicted, there were no guns. 

The stadiums that surrounded the arena were mostly empty. 

Built for hundreds, they now contained about ten armed soldiers, one camera crew, a finely-dressed older man, and a woman who absolutely radiated menace.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome, children! I do so hope you enjoy the playground we designed for you. 

After all, there are no rules!" the woman exclaimed. 

She paused. 

"Oh, silly me. Except one: only one of you comes out alive."

The well-dressed man nodded sternly. 

"Thank you, Dr. Gaul. Tributes, Panem honors your sacrifice," he said. 

Dr. Gaul cackled. 

"And President Ravinstill and I would like to wish you a very happy Hunger Games!"

Remus and the other tributes were forced to the center of the arena, and then arranged so they were standing in a circle around the pile of weapons. 

Diode from 3 was standing to his right. She was no threat, and could be dismissed. To his left was Joshua from 6, who was still muttering a psalm under his breath. 

He was more intimidating than Diode, but still no match for Remus. 

Misty from 7 was directly across the circle, and was staring at a gleaming axe. If she got her hands on it, she would be deadly. 

She was the highest priority target.

President Ravinstill pulled out an elaborately engraved pistol and held it high in the air. 

"The Hunger Games begin....now." 

He fired the pistol.

Chapter Text

For three seconds, no one moved. 

Then Remus and Misty both ran to the weapons pile. 

They arrived at about the same time. Remus grabbed the first weapon he saw, a sword, and had just adjusted it to sit properly in his hand when the blade of an axe fell towards his head. He raised the sword and managed to parry the blow just in time. 

Remus was untrained in the use of swords. 

Misty had been using an axe for years. 

As she moved forward, he backed away, dancing around her and trying to keep out of range of her weapon.

As Remus tried to avoid Misty's swings, he observed her moves. 

She was aggressive. She attacked, and did not bother to defend. 

When she swung, she had a tendency to overextend slightly, and leave her left side open for a few seconds.

But because she was always moving, and barely paused between attacks, it would be difficult for an untrained swordsman to exploit that weakness.

Misty pushed him back, and back. She swung right, and he blocked. She swung left, and he blocked once more. 

Left, right. Right, left, right. 

Block. Block. Block. Block. Block, and parry. 

She was pushing him to the wall. He had to go on the offensive before she could box him in. 

He waited for her to swing, parried, and then made a strike of his own. 

She blocked his strike easily, but he had stopped her forward momentum. 

Then she hit him in the stomach with the handle of the axe. 

Remus doubled over and dropped his sword, and only barely managed to move in time to avoid the axe blade splitting open his skull. 

Misty moved so that she was standing between him and his sword. She was cleverer than he had anticipated. 

How had an untrained lumberjack learned how to fight so tactically? 

The blade of the axe bit into his shoulder, and he cried out in pain. 

"Not so tough without a gun in your hands, are you, District 2?" Misty asked. She swung again, and he only narrowly avoided taking another hit. 

Then he bolted to his left and back to the weapon pile. She followed him, but he had a few seconds head start this time, and he made it there before she did. He found a second sword, and used it to block a second strike to his head. The axe slammed into the sword, and sparks flew. 

Remus knew he had to finish this quickly, before the blood loss from his shoulder wound began to slow him down. 

He dropped to his knees, as if his shoulder had given out.  Misty lunged forward, driving her axe forward, and the head wedged deep into the pile of weapons. As she struggled to free the blade, Remus jumped to his feet and buried the blade of his sword deep in her stomach. 

As he pulled his sword loose, Misty released her axe and clutched the wound in her stomach, and Remus quietly slashed her across the throat. 

She was done. 

With his most dangerous opponent removed, Remus scanned the field, and was surprised to see that all of the other tributes, except for Siren from 4 and Topaz from 1, were still standing in place. 

Siren had a small knife, and had clamored up into the stands. Topaz was clutching a sword and seemed to be daring anyone to come close to her.

But all of the rest were just staring at him and his fallen opponent.  

They had had plenty of time to run, or hide, or find weapons. Why had none of them moved? 

On the battlefield, to fail to move was death. 

Calmly, he made his way to the nearest tribute, Pierre from 3. The boy did not run. He did not try to fight. He just looked up in bewilderment. 

And Remus walked away. He was a soldier, not an executioner. He would not kill a child who did not fight back. 

He had barely made it thirty feet away before Pierre was riddled with bullets from the soldiers in the stands, and fell over dead. 

The message was clear. Kill, or we will kill for you—and make it much worse than you could. 

Topaz screamed, and immediately attacked Rosie, the girl from 9. While Topaz had no idea how to use a sword, she was armed, and Rosie was not.

Forty seconds later, Rosie was dead. 

In response, Sickle, the boy from 9, ran to the weapon pile and picked up the weapon for which he was named. 

As Topaz stared at the girl she had just killed, she dropped her sword—and Sickle buried his sickle into her chest. 

Then Sickle vomited. 

While he was busy getting sick, Remus made his way towards Cotton, the sickly girl from 8, and cut her down without a word.

Then he moved on to Fission from 5, who was still bleeding from the gunshot he had received to the arm. Fission tried to run, but he tripped, and Remus stabbed him in the neck. 

Tomas from 10 threw himself at Remus when Remus walked towards Maria. Remus nodded and stabbed him through the chest, and when Maria screamed and hit him, he cut her arm. 

The smell of blood filled his nose and mouth, and for a second he almost dropped his sword. 

But the sound of a click and a rifle being aimed put him back in motion. As Maria cradled her arm, he slit her across the throat. 

Quick. Clean. They would all be killed, no matter what he did. So he would make it fast. 

Don't think. Just kill. 

Leaf from 7 and Frederick Douglass from 11 had the sense to run and climb into the stands when they saw him coming, and he did not chase them.  

Instead, he made his way over to Joshua from 6, who was still reciting psalms. 

Joshua looked up at him. 

"Though he slay me, yet I will trust in him," he said quietly. 

For a second, Remus paused. His grandmother had recited that verse once. If she could see him now….

Then one of the soldiers cocked their gun. 

"Sorry, kid. Better me than them."

Remus buried his sword in Joshua's chest. 

"The LORD gives, and the LORD takes away. Blessed be his name."

Blood bubbled over the boy's lips, and forty seconds later, he was gone. 

Remus pulled his sword free, and moved on to the next closest tribute, Lulabelle from 12. She ran—right into the spear of Herman from District 4. 

As she collapsed, Herman dropped his spear in shock, and Remus closed the distance and sliced his sword across the boy's abdomen. Herman clutched his wound, and Remus put him out of his pain with a quick slice to the neck. 

Across the field, Owen from 12 accidentally ran too close to Sickle from 9. Sickle buried his namesake weapon into Owen's chest, and he died. 

Remus, who had been heading for Diode, changed directions and headed for Sickle, who was vomiting again. He had just straightened when Remus plunged his sword into his back. 

After a few seconds, he pulled out the blade, and followed up his initial attack with a slice across the throat. Quick. Clean. Move on.   

Diode took advantage of her reprieve to scamper up into the stands. 

Poppy from 6 screamed when he approached, then drew a small knife on him and stabbed him in the arm. It drew blood, but it also caused her to lose the knife. He stabbed her in the chest with his sword, slashed her throat, and moved on. 

Haseya, from 5, ran and clamored into the stands. He let her flee. 

The only opponent still left on the arena floor was Tourmaline from District 1. Remus waited for him to flee. He did not. Nor did he attack. 

"I said I wouldn't kill anyone. And I meant it," he said.

Remus wanted to spare him. He wanted to let him live.

But when he heard the sound of a gun being cocked, he buried his sword in the heart of the boy from 1. 

Remus looked up at the tributes in the stands.  Haseya had climbed as high as she could go. 

Diode was about five rows up. 

Siren was perched on a seat at the halfway point of the stands, knife ready. 

Frederick Douglass was…was…..

There. Next to President Ravinstill. 

Suddenly, there was a loud screech, and the boy was convulsing on the ground. 

Dr. Gaul brandished a syringe. 

"Oh. Did I forget to mention the rule against approaching the president? How unfortunate. Well, now the rest of you know!"

Leaf suddenly popped up from beneath a seat not too far away and started to flee away from Gaul. In his panic, he tripped, and tumbled down several flights of stairs. When he finally stopped, Remus heard a sickening crack. 

The boy from 7 was dead.  

Frederick Douglass from 11 screamed in pain for another few minutes, then went still. Remus felt sick. This was not a battle. It was just sadistic torture. 

Remus sat down and buried his head in his hands, trying and failing to come to terms with what he had just witnessed. 

Five minutes later, he heard the cock of a gun. 

Apparently, his reprieve was over. 

But what, exactly, did they expect him to do? 

Remus knew that he could not follow the last three tributes into the stands. He was simply too tall and too heavy to clamber up into them the way that the smaller tributes had—especially with a wounded shoulder and wounded arm. 

The answer came in the form of a soldier shooting Diode dead. As she collapsed, Siren and Haseya fled back down towards the arena floor.

Siren, who was closer, made it to the floor first—and when Haseya arrived, out of breath from her long flight down the stairs, Siren buried her knife in the neck of the older girl. 

Haseya struggled for a few seconds, and then went still. Siren yanked out her knife, looked ill for a moment, and then bolted back up into the stands. 

Siren called out to Remus. 

"What's the matter, soldier boy? Too scared to chase a little girl up here?"

Clever. 

Siren had forced his hand. Now he would have to risk the climb–or be shot for looking passive. 

Remus sighed, shifted his sword to his left hand, walked over to the nearest wall, and started to make the climb into the stands. 

His injured shoulder and arm protested the movement, but he had done more with more serious injuries before. He could handle this. 

And suddenly, there was a knife in his hand, and he fell back to the arena floor below. His ankle snapped on impact, and his legs buckled beneath him. 

As Remus tried to force himself back to his feet, a second knife buried itself between his ribs, and he cried out in pain. While Siren had missed his lungs and his heart, she had still done damage. He swung his sword at her, but in his weakened condition, she was easily able to dance out of the way.  

The next knife buried itself in his knee, and he collapsed. He still had his sword in his hand, but now any hope of standing was out of the question. 

Siren darted in once more, and a fourth knife sliced through his sword wrist cleanly. 

She had made one run to the pile. How had she picked up that many knives? 

Siren looked down at him, and he had to stop himself from begging her to make it quick. 

This child was not a soldier. She was a survivor. And survivors followed no rules. 

Siren smiled. 

"I didn't know what the arena would be like, so just in case I was reaped, I slipped a few knives under my clothes. Turned out, those came in handy," she said. 

Remus had won battlefields. And he—and the Capitol!---had been outsmarted by a 12-year-old urchin. 

Why had he never considered the possibility of someone bringing extra weapons?  

"Well played," he said simply. He closed his eyes, and waited for her to take the knife to his throat. 

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, and Siren fell on top of Remus. Remus opened his eyes, and saw that the child, who had outsmarted the field, was dead. 

Chapter Text

"Panem, I give you the Victor of the Hunger Games—--Remus Bellamy!" President Ravinstill exclaimed. 

Victor, indeed. He couldn't even stand! 

If he had won fairly, that would be one thing. But he hadn't. He had been seconds away from death, and had only survived because the Capitol wanted a loyal Victor, not a 12-year-old who broke all the rules. 

The soldiers came down from the stands, dragged Siren's body off of Remus, and then forced him to his feet and took him back to the center of the arena. 

President Ravinstill smiled. 

"Congratualtions on your victory, Sergeant Major," the President said. 

Remus wanted to say something. Anything. But he had never learned the words. 

Instead, he just saluted weakly. 

"Thank you, sir."

*******************************************************************

Two hours after his victory, Remus was dumped back in the cattle car, and sent back to District 2.

His injuries had been patched enough that he would not bleed out, and the veterinarian they had sent to him had disinfected the wounds, but beyond that, he had received no treatment at all. 

His left ankle was still twisted. That would heal, but it would take time. 

His right knee was shattered. Siren had cut through tendons and ligaments, and without treatment, he would never walk normally again.

And his right wrist had been sliced cleanly through—which meant that his right hand, the hand that he used to fire a gun, was fairly useless.

When the train finally arrived back in District 2, he was greeted by a cheering crowd. People hailed him as a hero, and told him that he had brought honor to the District all over again.   

Even Clementine's family, who would never see their daughter again, embraced him. 

"If our…our Clemmie couldn't make it home, I'm glad you did," her ma said through tears. 

Remus wanted to tell her that she was wrong. He didn't deserve to be here. He had lost, and the only reason he was still alive was because the Capitol thought he made a better story. 

But he didn't have the words. He could speak of battle and death like a scholar, but on all other subjects, he was voiceless.  

"I'm a soldier, ma'am. I fight."

And she kissed him like he was her son. 

Oh my darling, Oh my darling,

Oh my darling Clementine,

You are lost and gone forever,

Dreadful sorry Clementine.

*******************************************************

Two weeks after his victory, which should have been Siren's, he borrowed the telephone of his wealthy neighbor and called the Mayor. 

 "Hello? Who is this?"

 "Remus Bellamay."

 "The Victor? What can I do for you, son?" 

"I want to join the new police force. The Peacekeepers. I…I'm a soldier. I can't do anything but fight."

The mayor sighed. 

"Remus, you…you're…well, you're…."

Crippled. 

He walked with a bad limp, and could not use a gun. They would have no use for him. 

But neither did the quarries. 

"I suppose I could recommend you for a desk job," the Mayor said. 

"Sir…I can't read, or write more than my name."

"In that case, son, I'm afraid there's not much I can do." 

Remus felt a burst of panic. 

"Please…please, sir. I'll do anything, as long as I can serve."

There was a pause. 

"Well, you are a war hero. And a Victor. I'll talk to the new head peacekeeper, and see what he says."

A week later, Remus Bellamay was accepted into the Peacekeepers—and immediately shipped out to District 5. 

The head peacekeeper of 5 took one look at him, and handed him a bucket and a mop. 

"You're lucky you have those medals. They bought you that uniform. We don't have a lot of use for a crippled, illiterate officer. But at least you can clean up after the rest of us."

Remus swallowed his pride, and saluted. 

"Yes, sir."

********************************************************************

Two months later, Remus was, in effect, running the whole garrison. While he could not read or write, and now he could barely walk, he still saw what others did not. 

He knew how to deploy troops, and when, and where. 

Even if they were officers and not soldiers, the effect was much the same.

And the head peacekeeper of his garrison, who apparently had no use for actual work, was more than happy to let Remus do all the labor of organizing the troops.  

Remus knew that he was being taken advantage of. But he had no life outside service. And he needed to believe that his sacrifices had been worth something. So he completed his duties as a glorified janitor, ran the garrison on top of that, and did not think about the fact that he was paid a pittance for his labor. 

With an education, Remus can make something of himself. Without it, he'll always be a slave. 

His grandma had been right. 

But he was a soldier. What else could he be?