Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sleepless nights were nothing new for Ceres, spending them outside on the cold winter ground, or in this case, at a friend’s.

Because her mother wouldn’t open the door for her past midnight, and she didn’t have a key, such situations were inevitable at times. Most of the time she hated it, the freezing air through her clothing, nothing but a leftover uniform to use as a pillow, but today she was glad she was away from home once more.

Being home meant putting her life in danger, as her mom was against everything she did, and if she made a mistake, there would be consequences.

Ceres didn’t know the girl she kissed that well, but she was a mutual friend once introduced to her at work. Still, the heat of their bodies against each other, the girl’s soft lips pressing against her’s, made Ceres feel ecstatic.

It had felt so special last night when they were spending time together, doing something most of district 9 deemed as forbidden, taboo, but just like always, Ceres had trouble showing her full identity. Yes, she liked girls, but boys as well.

But when you told such a thing to the girl you liked, she would be like:
‘That’s gross, you really have feelings for a man?’, and leave you immediately.

And the same went for her dates with boys, who would deem half she was as unnatural.

Sometimes she wondered why so many people around were so stuck in the past, instead of looking at the present. Labour conditions were horrible in district 9, but no one would reach out and do anything to help.

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Acting.
It had become a thing for Ceres to hide her real feelings at times, and pretend to be someone else instead. It was safer, and easier. She kept a straight face at work, pretended to focus at school, and at home, she was the best at telling lies to her mother, because the truth would be more dangerous.

‘Ceres, why were you out so late?’
She'd ask, and Ceres would answer that the peacekeepers made her work longer hours, in order to ship all the grain to nearby districts, as that would be more efficient.

Though this was far from the truth, her mother had been naive enough to believe, and Ceres was usually able to go to bed unpunished.

A rich boy named Saturn had taught her, having to use these techniques when he was chosen in Panem’s beauty pageant.

Tonight was different however, something Ceres noticed as she approached her house.
The lights were on, and the silhouette of her mother was visible from a distance. There was no point in sneaking in through the back, as her mother would question every sound she heard.

Sadly Ceres had nothing to protect herself with, her sickles safely stored at work.
But there was no point in hiding anymore, so she straightened her shoulders and knocked on the door…

‘Yes, who the fuck bothers to come around so late?’
Azalea Grist opened the door, her expression immediately changing as she saw her daughter.

‘Ah, it’s you again. And where were you that late at night? For Snow’s sake, it’s almost morning!’

Ceres opened her mouth to answer, but before she had the chance to properly explain the situation, her mother silenced her and started shouting at her;

‘No excuses can be made for such disgrace! Leaving your own mother to suffer in her silence one day before the reaping! You should be ashamed of yourself, I shouldn’t be allowed to call someone like you my daughter!’

Ceres bit her lip and mumbled: ‘As if you get to preach about healthy family bonds… You can’t really bring me down when you’re worse…’

Her mother grabbed her by the wrist, a face fueled with rage.
‘Don’t you dare disrespect me like that!’

A hand directed to her temple came closer and closer, until everything disappeared in a spiral of darkness.

----------------
When Ceres woke up, it was on the kitchen floor. Her mother must’ve dragged her all the way there, and complained about it, but Ceres could only care about getting away from there, anywhere but at home.

Because was it really a home when there was no one worth coming back to, a place where hatred was more common than love? The reaping was today, and with a bit of luck…

No, she couldn’t think like that, she was just 17, a whole life in front of her.

She could fight, use a weapon, survive, she’d done it long enough.

But was it worth it to throw away her life like that? She wanted to be free, but were the games really her only option for it?

With that, she decided to not volunteer, at least not this year.
If she got reaped, it would be another story, but she wouldn’t get mad. She would try at least, though the draw was not in her favour. 100 sheets with her name written on them, and each year she added more.

If she got reaped, would it really be a surprise, or more of a self-fulfilling prophecy?

The girl that stared back at her in the mirror, had a large bruise on her face. It contrasted her already pale skin, making Ceres appear more ghost-like than ever.

There was no such thing as make-up to cover it with, so she tried her best with the resources she had; if she cut the front pieces of her hair a bit shorter, they would fall in front of her face, hiding the bruise.

Wearing her earrings and black blouse would help too, covering the past scars and bruises with her long sleeves.

Wearing black during reapings was considered a bad omen in district 9, the colours indicating death and sorrow, but Ceres couldn’t care less.
If anything, it would show her mother that she felt dead inside because of her.

Ceres didn’t want to start a war, but small acts of rebellion to show that her mother didn’t own her, that she had her own life, made her miserable life slightly more bearable.

The train departed early, but before Ceres arrived at the station, she took 20 minutes to get there.

A stream of people from her village joined in, some of those kids also being reaping age.

But the house next to hers remained empty, their inhabitants nowhere to be seen. It had been like this for a year now, after the 65th hunger games took the life of the couple’s only daughter. Seia.

Ceres’ best friend in the entire world, someone who she trusted everything to, even the truth about her life at home, was long gone now.

Ceres remembered the reaping, the two-syllable name called out by the escort, and the aftermath, Seia’s neck bitten through by Capitol mutts. A grave in the city centre, and no one to hold her hand anymore.

Yes, she had other friends, other relationships to hide her feelings with, but nobody could ever compare to Seia.

On reaping days, the train was free, packed with everyone who was eligible, or bothered to come.

There was no point in trying to find a seat in the overly full train, so instead Ceres just leaned against a wall, looking outside the window.

The landscape flashed by, quickly, though not as quick as some of the high-speed trains for transport between the districts.

In all honesty, she wished she could’ve taken her guitar, the half-rotten instrument being the only thing her dad left behind. She’d play a tune, and probably sing one of the district’s folk songs, whispering so that the peacekeepers couldn’t hear. Now the words of the songs, stuck in her mind, was all she had.

Softly humming a song, the train ride passed by, and Ceres tried to prepare herself for what was to come.

Would this be the train taking her away from home forever, and more importantly, was there even a home to return to?

Nearing district 9’s city centre meant that buildings appeared more frequently, and fields started to disappear.

On the horizon, the sun sat high, indicating that it was almost noon.

1 o’clock, that was when the reaping would commence, in the dull reaping square surrounded by concrete warehouses. As the vehicle neared the train station, the coloured banners announcing the 67th annual reaping became visible, and Ceres rolled her eyes at the hypocrisy of it all, sending children to their death while celebrating it like a wedding.

Anyways, if she got reaped, at least she would go in willingly, with no one to mourn her. Sure, her friends wouldn’t like it, would visit her funeral, but their lives would go on. They’d get married, work, get kids, and die. Because that was how it always went, the way of life in the districts.

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The one kiss she shared with Saturn was bitter, filled with the taste of morning coffee and uncertainty.

It happened a year ago, when they were at his house, preparing a class project together.

Seia’s ghost lingered in between the two, and her loss was still fresh. She had been a friend of Saturn as well, and the three of them always had classes together.

Still, it wasn’t emptiness that filled the kiss, instead the feeling that there was something wrong.
Maybe it was the timing, maybe in a few years time she’d be able to enjoy the experience. That reaction they shared, and neither Saturn nor Ceres spoke about the ‘incident’ ever again.

They were just friends, nothing more, nothing less.

The blood coming from her fingertip contrasted Ceres’ pale skin, but she stayed with both feet on the ground as the peacekeeper took the sample of her blood.
She was used to it, and had endured much worse.

When the woman asked how she was feeling, she rolled her eyes and walked to the square. In all honesty, she didn’t know what to feel. About life, about the reaping, about anything.

For some reason, she felt that today was the ending of something, that something macabre was coming her way, but she couldn’t exactly spin her head around what it was.

When Ceres looked up to the stage, she noticed a new escort, a young lady, her cotton-candy-blue hair put up in a high bun.

As a seventeen-year-old, she stood almost in the front, only the heads of the eighteen-year-olds blocking her way to the stage.

The escort looked confused as to what to do, and thus spent most time conversing with the mayor, who didn’t seem particularly pleased with that.

On the other side of the stage, the two living victors sat, Sylva and Veles, engaged in a serious conversation. Ceres could see a glimpse of an alcohol bottle in Sylva’s pocket, but she was too far away to confirm it.

She directed her attention to the rest of the crowd, which slowly but surely filled up completely.

After about 15 minutes had passed, the escort started talking, a long monologue representing the history of the hunger games, which was the same each year, and so boring that Ceres had trouble keeping her eyes open. That, and the summer heat on the dreadful July 4th, made the day almost unbearable.

When the escort wrapped up her speech, the mayor began to present a list of the past victors: ‘Farina Segal - 19th, Lupin Garner - 25th, Sylva Mayleaf - 39th and Veles Barton - 44th’

With the mentioning of the name ‘Sylva’ Ceres could hear some of the older people on the edge of the mumble, still bitter about what she had done to return in ‘39.

‘Idiots with their heads in the past, nothing better to do.’ She whispered to herself, concentrating on the stage again.

The usual Capitol-made introduction movie was shown on the screens, ‘the rise and glory of Panem’, ‘the honour of representing your district in the hunger games’, and all that stuff.

When the reaping finally began, Ceres straightened her back, standing up tall as the escort was picking out a name.

She held her grip firmly on the paper, opening it, and preparing to read it out loud to the microphone;
‘And district 9’s female tribute for the 67th hunger games is… Ceres Grist!’

By the sound of her name, the nearby crowd looked at her, and the escort lured her to the stage.

Ceres tried not to show any emotion on her face, which was easy as there were no tears to cry. She would’ve gone into these games sooner or later, no need to be sad about it.

Fast paced, she walked to the stage, all broad shoulders and fake confidence.

When she stood on the stage, she recognised her mother in the crowd, and even started to smile a little. After all, she would likely never have to face her again.

In the distance, the crowd echoed, the exact words she didn’t understand, but she had the feeling they were nowhere close to pleasant.
Well, her prediction was right then, nobody gave a fuck.

'Don’t cry, don’t cry,' she thought to herself.
Inside, she didn’t know what to feel.

She raised her chin up, waiting for the reaping to be over.

A seventeen year old boy with dirty blonde hair was picked, someone that Ceres didn’t recognise. It would’ve been weird if she did, with the insane amount of miles district 9 stretched for.

Still, she shook his hand when the escort asked them to, but judging at his half-starved body, she knew he wouldn’t make it far.

He looked her in the eyes, his warm brown eyes into hers, and it almost seemed like he was begging her to do something. She didn’t understand, and looked away from him, waiting for the reaping to be over.

Inside the building, Ceres was mentally preparing herself for no one to come. They’d come at her almost guaranteed funeral (because 1/24 is not an optimistic chance) anyways, so why bother seeing her alive?, so when the door opened, she was taken by surprise.

It was Saturn, whose charcoal curls she could recognise everywhere.
‘I know you don’t have all day, but you need to know that I’ll try my ultimate best to get you out,’ he spoke firmly.

‘Why bother?’ she asked.
‘There are others more deserving to win, others, who have entire families depending on them. And then there’s me. My mother doesn’t even love me, hell, I think she’d rather have me dead,’

Saturn held her hand, shaking his head. ‘I think you deserve to win, and among me many others. Seia would’ve wanted you to win. Don’t forget that.’

A tear ran down Ceres’ cheeks, and Saturn handed her a handkerchief as he spoke: ‘Listen, you’re going to come out as the victor, but we need to give you a story to root for,’
‘So you think my story isn’t interesting enough?’

He shook his head again.
‘To me it is, but to play into the minds of the Capitol, you need to give them something relatable. They don’t care about malnourishment, about the conditions in the districts. Because they simply don’t relate to it, you need to give them something they can understand instead,’

‘Like what?’ she asked, uncertain what was to come.

‘Like love. It doesn’t have to be true love, but everyone can relate to having a crush, to being a carefree teenager daydreaming about their true love every so often,’

Ceres shook her head.
‘Not everyone can, and what’s a carefree teen life if you have to spend all day at work?’

‘Trust me, in my time in the Capitol I’ve gotten to know them quite well. They’re quite hollow people, those Capitolites, but that’s besides the point,’
He paused for a second, stroking a strand of hair behind Ceres’ ear.
‘Listen, when you get into the final 8, they’ll interview your relatives, and then I’ll exclaim the ‘massive crush’ I’ve had on you since childhood. They’ll love it, the winner of Panem’s beauty-pageant together with a tribute in the games, they’ll sponsor you for it,’

Ceres considered the proposal, and finally agreed.
‘I’m fine with it, but please tell me it doesn’t have to be genuine, that it can just be an act,’

Saturn nodded.
‘Of course, and I won't ever say things you’re uncomfortable with, even if it’s just an act. I just really hope we can still be friends if you win, I don’t want to ruin what we have,’

When the peacekeepers came to tell that it was time to say goodbye, the two embraced in a tight hug, with Ceres still unsure if she would have it in her to win.

Next came her mother, and all warmth Ceres had felt before, was long gone. She was ice cold inside, preparing for what was to come next.

It was her mother who spoke first, her words as cold as ice.
‘Well, I guess the day finally came. At least I don’t have another mouth to feed now. If you come back here, don’t ever bother asking me for help to handle stuff. In fact, I won’t shed a tear at your funeral, with all the misery you’ve caused me, you dreadful child,’

Ceres tried her best not to react, not to cry, not to let anger get the worst of her. She bit on her lips, and the bitter taste of her own blood filled her mouth.

‘Farewell then!,’
She screamed, shutting the door in front of her mother’s face.

‘All I hope now is that I can outlive you,’ she continued.

Falling down to the floor, she let herself cry for once, mourning her future and her past.

Knowing the peacekeepers could come any minute, Ceres tried her best to get herself together as quickly as possible.

In the mirror she fixed her face, making sure no traces of weakness were found. That was crucial, as she knew there would be camera’s everywhere she went in the Capitol. How else would they get so much ‘backstage footage’ in their broadcasts?

The train station was only a short five minutes away from the town hall, but the peacekeepers still made Ceres and her district partner Harvest use the car.

Ceres had never been in a genuine car before, only a crappy school van her class once used during an excursion. This car was far more luxurious, velvet seatings and all that. Still there was an uncomfortable silence between the two tributes, as no one dared to speak a word.

Harvest was still sobbing in silence, attempting to dry his face with his sleeves.

Ceres pitied him, knowing that he wouldn’t be spared by the games, and more specifically, the tributes that were in it.

When they finally arrived at the train station, the crowd surrounding the reaping had gone away, and in their place only stood a small camera crew and an army of peacekeepers.

‘Standard safety procedure,’
They said, but their communal frown gave Ceres the conclusion that they wouldn’t elaborate.

So she followed them, like a model citizen, to the train. For a moment the thought of running away, seeking refuge in a nearby building, crossed her mind, but she knew it was foolish.

They’d beat her up and throw her into that damn arena anyways, so what’s the point of rebellion? She’d rather hold on to the promise she made, to at least try to win. A flicker of hope, but not her own.

When looking at her reflection in the train’s window, she saw a dead girl walking.

Whilst leaning against the window, the scenic grainfields district 9 was famous for flashing by, minutes passed, yet there was no sight of the two mentors.

Harvest was having some small talk with the escort, whose name was apparently Aria.

'Quite a normal name for someone Capitol,' Ceres thought to herself, but she stayed in her own corner for a bit.

She wasn’t the biggest fan of useless words, though she filled her conversations with her mother with a web of lies;

Where was she?
‘At work, someone had an accident and she had to fill in.’
With whom? ‘Oh, just a few colleagues,’

What she said couldn’t have been farther from the truth, but anything to stay out of trouble.

Moments later the two victors walked into the carriage, neither looking particularly pleased about having to teach two practically already dead children to not die.

‘And there we have our mentors I’d assume,’ Aria exclaimed. ‘May I introduce you to Sylva and Veles, who will indeed be your mentors this year-’

‘Don’t worry about introductions, that’s not why we’re here,’ Veles interrupted. ‘We are your mentors after all, and if you seriously want to stand a chance this year, we better get started now,’

Ceres wondered why they were taking this whole mentoring experience so seriously, considering their last victory was 23 years ago. Surely she’d have given up any hope for another one already if she stood in their shoes.

But no, the man was stone cold sober, had even put in some effort in the way he dressed, which Ceres deemed rare for such a veteran victor.

She could see that Sylva had tried her best too, but her distressed and tired face suggested that it hadn’t been easy. Still she stood next to the other victor, her eyes fixated on the tributes.

‘First question, do either of you have a preference as for who your mentor should be? Or should we do the regular female mentor- female tribute and vice versa arrangement?’ Sylva asked.

To that, Harvest nodded. ‘Fine by me, what do you think Ceres?’

Ceres thought about it for a moment, but realised she didn’t necessarily have a preference. Both had survived the hunger games after all, and seemed capable of the job. ‘I'm fine with it too,’ she concluded, and by that the topic was closed off.

The escort then suggested that it would make sense for both of the tributes to go to their own rooms to converse with the mentors, and so they did.

Sylva sat next to her on the soft bed, and spoke first: ‘This might be the most important question of all, but do you really want to win?’

Ceres didn’t react.

‘Look, I know it might sound strange, but life after victory will most likely be worse than before. I don’t think anyone came out of that arena the same, and neither did I. I guess you could say the games really fucked me up somehow,’ The victor continued, going through her short hair with her hand.

‘But what if my life is already fucked up, what if it will get better after victory?’ Ceres interrupted.

‘What do you mean?,’ Sylva wondered, ‘Is there anything you need to talk about regarding that topic?’

The girl nodded. ‘Well, there actually is one thing,’ she sat up straight, ‘I’ve always wanted to be in the games, but not for entertainment sake. It’s just... I don’t really think life can get worse than it is now…’

Silently, a tear ran down her cheek, and she decided to reveal the whole truth, instinctively knowing Sylva was someone she could trust.

‘My mother… Well, she doesn’t really love me. She’s hit me multiple times, as punishment, even for unimportant stuff. But the words are the worst. She told me no one would ever love me, that I won’t be missed. That she regretted not getting rid of me when it was an option. And after hearing it so many times I guess I started believing it myself…’

‘But to answer your question, if I'm being honest death doesn't scare me, I mean, everyone will die, it doesn't matter much. It's the process of dying that does. What if I'm attacked from behind, what if I don't achieve what I want. That is why I want to survive, just for now…’
she managed to get it out, before completely breaking down.

Sylva put her arm around her, assuring her that she was safe now.
‘Hey, we’re going to do our best to help you, me and Veles. And if you ever feel the need to talk, it doesn't matter about what, you can just come to me. I’m your mentor after all, my job is to help you,’ The woman said.

‘Thank you,’ Ceres responded. ‘But I don’t want to bother you too much with my worries, I’ll be dead in a few weeks anyways.’

Sylva shook her head, and argued: ‘Oh, trust me, I can handle it. I've been through much myself, you’re not bothering me. But you’re not going to die, I’ll make sure of that.’

Aria came into her room, telling the two that it was time for dinner.

They decided to drop the subject for a while, and come back to it later.

Dinner was better than Ceres had anticipated, and she could really see that Sylva and Veles were trying their best to make the tributes more comfortable. So she just joined in, trying to remain as friendly as possible. The food itself was no doubt delicious, consisting of 7 different courses filled with exotic ingredients, and Ceres had never eaten that well before obviously, as the only food she’d eaten back home was the poorly made tesserae bread and the fruit she’d traded.

She knew her mother had tons of food back home that she kept away from her daughter, because Ceres saw her eating it, behind a presumably closed door. Was it really a famine if only a select few suffered?

After dinner Ceres joined Sylva in her room again, and this time she was the first to ask questions.
‘How do I win the hunger games then?’

‘It depends, but if you have the skills and the will to do so, you’ll come far. That is, if you don’t act like an absolute fool there. Don’t let hubris get the best of you.’ Sylva responded.

‘What is hubris?’ Ceres asked, confused.

‘Excessive pride. You need to trust in your abilities, which, if you don’t mind me asking, what are they?, but not show off too much. The ones who go high are more likely to fall down,’

Ceres just sat back and nodded at that.
‘I’m good with a sickle. I’ve used them for more than half my life, and I’m quite confident in my abilities with them. I can handle a scythe, though the heaviness is not ideal. I’m fucked if the arena has a hot climate, but I can handle the cold quite well, I slept outside in the winter sometimes when my mother was-’

‘Hold on,’ Sylva interrupted,
‘Your mother forced you to sleep outside while it was freezing out there. She shouldn’t be allowed to call herself a mother, abandoning her own child like that!’

Ceres simply nodded at that. 'All kids deserve parents, but not all parents deserve kids,' it rang through her head.

Just in time for the reaping recap, Ceres and Sylva had made up a plan;

She’d try to make some allies, but nothing too outrageous. Trust was key, they decided. But it all came down to the initial selection of the tributes, the results of which she could now see on the screen in front of her;

District 1 delivered strong, older volunteers, while two on the other hand started off strong with a muscular girl, but when the boy got reaped no one took his place. He looked trained though, and Ceres knew she shouldn’t rule him out as a threat.

District 3’s tributes were on the younger side, and looked equally as miserable.

In district 4, a boy who must’ve been at least 6’5 volunteered, and though the girl seemed his polar opposite, being on the smaller side, and having light skin and hair, she didn’t seem weak either.

‘Yeah, you should definitely stay away from district 4, you’d be foolish to underestimate them,’ Sylva mumbled.

District 5 and 6 delivered their average tributes; not that strong, not the weakest, though Ceres was surprised to see no morphling addicts among them. They appeared regularly among the tributes of the more urban districts, such as 6 and 8, where the addiction seemed to be more of a problem. Scared to death they were either way, and Ceres didn’t blame it on them.

When district 7’s girl was picked, Ceres saw Veles’ face saddening.
‘Poor Arbores,’ the man said, and she figured the victor’s daughter was probably picked.

‘His oldest daughter, I just hope she doesn’t have to suffer too much,’ Sylva nodded, holding Veles’ hand.

Impulsively, Ceres wanted to make a sarcastic remark about the two being quite intimate, but the sadness in both their faces showed that that would not be appreciated.

District 8 flashed by without any standout tributes, and then her own face appeared on the screen. She was relieved to see that the bruise on her temple wasn’t visible, and that her face revealed little emotion.

She was not going to show her weaknesses to the others, no matter what. She would stay strong.

District 10’s canyon filled the screen, and among the dusty air, the girl was reaped.

She appeared to be quite strong, but nothing compared to the tributes they had the year before.

And when the boy walked on stage, she heard a lamenting scream calling out his name. The camera was redirected to the crowd, where a tall 18-year-old fell down to his knees.

Was he his cousin? Friend? Lover? Ceres didn’t know.

All she could tell was that he cared for him deeply, and that if there was someone deserving the victory, it might just be him.

Finally, district 11 and 12 flashed by without anything significant, and Ceres figured it would be easier that way.

The less she knew about anyone she was supposed to kill, the better.

After the recap, both tributes were sent to their rooms by their mentors, to rest for tomorrow.

Ceres couldn’t sleep, turning around and around in her bed. There was too much on her mind, the reaping, the other tributes, her mother’s screams at her.

And her own feelings, still uncertain if she deserved the victory. If she deserved to go home again.

'And what was her home anyway?,' she wondered.

A home would be a place where one could return to after work, or school, and relax. Home was supposed to be a loving and caring environment, with people that she could rely on and trust.

But her home meant hatred, fear, disgust, sorrow. Would ‘coming home’ really change anything? Did she have a home to begin with?

hiraeth; a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

Chapter Text

Eventually Ceres managed to fall asleep, leaving the world behind her temporarily. Her dreams had turned into nightmares when she was younger, so she forced herself not to feel anything.
Numb, the night passed her by, the sleep being only a process to keep her alive.

When she woke up again, the sunlight fell through the train window, the summer rays warming her body, enlightening her pale skin.

If she had woken up like this at home, it would mean another day of school again, the summer heat clinging her body to her seat, making it unbearable to focus.

Instead, the train she was on now would take her to the Capitol, where she was forced to participate in the hunger games.

She didn’t know in which environment she would end up, longing for something bearable, like rows of trees, instead of the extreme. Last year was a desert, the heat and the lack of water making people crazy, so she hoped it would be something different now.

From what Saturn had told her about his visits to the Capitol, she’d known that it was more than you could ever dream of, more luxury than she’d ever seen in her life.

But it was hypocritical, too. The Capitol had arisen again after defeating the districts in the rebellion, and they had been punishing them ever since. In their eyes, beauty must’ve been something built on bloodshed, violence and the cost of countless lives.

Still, the sight of the towering buildings, the glass shimmering in the sun, fascinated her; It was nothing Ceres had ever seen before, being used to lower, torn apart warehouses.

The people in the city were more colourful than she’d ever seen, nothing compared to the dull fabrics of district 9’s labour force. Even the suits she saw Saturn wear on television, during those beauty pageants, seemed boring in comparison to the clothing and looks she saw here.

And when the train arrived at the station, a crowd full of people were waiting there, shouting the names of their favourite tributes.

Ceres decided to keep up the appearance that most had seen her in during the reaping, and politely waved towards the crowd, making sure that there was no emotion visible on her face.

For some reason they liked it, and they were cheering even more when she put a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, revealing the numerous piercings.

It was strange, that most of them were apparently so obsessed with a couple of children that were practically sent to their deaths, but she knew she could only make them root for her if she went along with it.

Aria had taken a large, lightweight umbrella from the train, which she held over the heads of the two tributes, giving them some privacy while they were taken to the tribute center. It also protected them against the burning sun, which was shining through the glass roof of the station.

The heat in district 9 had already been unusually hot, and that was in the north of the district, where she lived, but here, the Capitol located more towards the south, it was almost unbearable. Ceres longed for the cold, snowy winter, but she knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to experience it ever again.

—----------------------------

The remake center was colder luckily, though dressed in a thin robe only, the cold sent chills down her spine.

There was a group of stylists, their hair and make-up extravagant, circling around her, looking for any imperfection, and getting rid of it. Ceres didn’t bother learning their names, and it didn’t matter much.

They were walking around the table she lay on, plucking off leftover hairs, and sometimes making comments with their weird, unfamiliar accents.

‘Where are all of those bruises and scars from? We need to cover them up!’

‘Chest should’ve been bigger’ and so it went on.

It gave Ceres an unpleasant feeling, but she didn’t let it show. It wouldn’t make a difference.

When they were finally done with her, they left her on the table to wait for her stylist to arrive.

Ceres sat up, touching her body. Any body hair that had existed before, had been stripped away, and from all the lotions and creams that they’d used, her skin had started to itch a bit.

Luckily, the hair on her head was softer than ever with the shampoo they’d used, so there was at least one thing about what the prep team did that she liked.

Now all she did was hoping that her stylist wouldn’t dress her up in something ridiculous, like they had done with last year’s tributes; The pair had been spray-painted gold, with only matching chains covering their body. Ceres wasn’t even quite sure what it was supposed to resemble, but she knew she wouldn’t want to end up the same way as them.

A good parade outfit meant sponsors, attention, fame, and that was all Ceres needed if she wanted Saturn’s plan to work.

If she, due to the lack of sponsors, wouldn’t make it to the final 8, then who would want to hear her story? She had to entertain them, the Capitol, appeal to them, play right into their cards.

She wouldn’t bother being dead, but the process of dying scared her. So in order to die quickly, if she even truly wanted to be dead, a dragged-out death caused by the gamemakers because everyone rooted against her, was something she had to avoid.

When Ceres’ stylist came into the room, it had not been the bald, aging man she recognised as district 9’s stylist on television, but a young woman, with countless of flowers in her long braids, her skin as rich as the soil of the fields in spring, her eyes the color of autumn grain.

She had a more gentle, warmer expression on her face, as compared to the other people Ceres had met in the Capitol.

‘My name is Iris,’ She spoke. ‘And I’m your stylist this year,’

Ceres nodded.
‘My name is Ceres,’ she answered. ‘I guess you’re supposed to make me desirable, to get me sponsors,’

‘Not entirely, I mean, I also want you to feel comfortable in what you’re wearing, that’s the least I can do for someone in your situation. I imagine it must’ve been terrifying, your future becoming so uncertain with only so few words, unlike my colleague I actually try to treat tributes as more than a piece of food,’
Iris rolled her eyes as she mentioned the other guy, while still remaining a soft voice.

‘Thank you, but I would argue that my future has always been uncertain, ever since putting my first slip of tesserae in that reaping bowl,’ Ceres responded, with a harsher tone than she had planned to put on,
‘This was almost guaranteed to happen anyways, but thank you for your effort,’ She continued, making sure she didn’t sound as annoyed as before.
‘I’m glad you’re not one of those who pretends that everything’s alright, that I will win no matter what,’

‘Well, whatever makes you the most at ease,’ Iris said.
‘Either way, it’s important that you’ve eaten before the parade actually starts, all the lights, the people, you don’t want to face them with an empty stomach, trust me,’

Just as the stylist was talking, a plate filled with food arrived on the table, the person dropping it off, not saying any word.

‘Thank you,’ Iris said to the silent man.
Redirecting her attention to Ceres, she spoke: ‘That’s an avox, they can’t talk because their tongue is cut out, and because of that many people here don’t treat them as humans too. It's sad, really.’

Ceres immediately felt guilty about not thanking him, and promised herself to do it in the future.

While Ceres finished her meal, Iris had already started braiding Ceres’ hair, the dark strands entwined like a crown around her head.

Ceres never braided her hair back home, it was too much of an effort. If she needed it out of the way, she’d tie it back, and if there was an opportunity to cut it, she would.

Having long, braided hair reminded her too much of her friend, she thought.
Seia had always worn her hair in red braids that reached her back, and even when she died, the crimson blood blending in with her braided hair was the last thing Ceres saw of her on television.

Still, she appreciated the effort her stylist put in, and just bit on her lip, trying to not reveal any emotion.

Instead she just waited for Iris to get her outfit from the closet, the buttery yellow of the long dress being the first thing she noticed. It appeared to be a quite decent costume, with golden embroidery of grain sheaves on it, and gave more coverage than last year’s outfit at least.

Iris turned around, giving Ceres some privacy to put the dress on.

After she was done with getting dressed, she told it was okay for Iris to turn back again, and the stylist did, facing the younger girl.

‘Thank you,’ Ceres said. ‘I really appreciate all this,’

They both sat down at the table again, as Iris was finishing off Ceres’ outfit.

‘Would you want to wear your regular earrings, or should I change them with some from the Capitol?’ she asked, showing a pair of golden pendants in her hands.

‘Both, I think, maybe you could use the gold ones for my earlobe,’ Ceres suggested

Iris did some final touch-ups with jewellery and make-up, and when she added a golden crown on Ceres’ head, the girl finally felt pretty.

With a sudden burst of confidence, Ceres walked towards the hall where the chariots awaited her, guarded by her stylist and a peacekeeper.

The room was spacious, the ceiling higher than that of district 9’s highest granaries. It was swarmed with people, too; mentors, tributes, escorts, and of course the stylists, and Ceres initially had trouble finding her place, until she noticed an outfit similar to hers.

She spotted district 9’s chariot, Harvest already sitting on it, making himself appear smaller while sitting with his arms around his legs. He appeared to be crying, and while both Sylva and Veles were attempting to comfort him, it didn’t seem to work.

—---------------------------

‘Wow, looks like your stylists don’t actually hate you, congrats to that,’ A boy in a cowboy costume approached her, and Ceres recognised him as Bovis.

She waved at him, mumbling a simple response. From the corner of her eye she could see Sylva nodding approvingly, and Ceres took it as a sign to further open up the conversation. Perhaps he could be a good ally, or maybe she just pitied the fact that he had so much to lose, and she had everything to win.

Ceres wanted to sugarcoat what she was about to say, but for some reason she knew that wouldn’t work. ‘Yeah, yours is quite cliche to be honest, is anyone in your district actually a ‘cowboy’ or is that just the Capitol’s interpretation?’

Bovis laughed at her, ‘Is anyone in your district actually a flour sack, or a bread, as that’s what they’ve been dressing your tributes in for the past decades?!’

For the first time since arriving in the Capitol, Ceres' mouth showed hints of a genuine smile.

‘Well, if anything, both of our costumes could’ve been much worse; look at district 3 for example!’

They both turned their heads to the tributes, shivering in robotic-like costumes that barely covered anything. The two were embarrassed, the already pale boy’s face appearing almost sickly now.

Even their mentors couldn’t help them much, and Ceres already resented district 3’s stylists. They were just children, even younger than both Ceres and Bovis.

She felt a bit embarrassed staring at them for so long, and quickly redirected her attention to Bovis again, though somewhere in the back of the room she caught someone else throwing daggers at her with his eyes.

It was Orinoco, the boy from district 4.

She was about to walk towards the much taller boy, but Sylva held her back.

‘Don’t.’ she said. ‘He’s not worth your time, especially not now. Do you want sponsors? Make yourself likeable for the audience then. Smile, wave, laugh. You can show your skills during training,’

Both Ceres and Bovis nodded to that.

‘Thank you for the advice Miss Mayleaf,’ Bovis said.
‘My mentor has barely been giving me any since getting on the train. He didn’t even show up for the chariots to help us,’

‘You can just call me Sylva, you know, and besides, if you’re down for an alliance already, I can help with that,’ Sylva said.
‘I just have to speak to your mentor, and then we can write a formal agreement down, for sponsors and stuff. But for now just ‘enjoy’ the parade,’

Sylva walked away, leaving the two tributes alone again.

‘Your mentor surprised me, on television she usually looks like she’d rather be anywhere else, but now she actually wants to help,’ Bovis exclaimed, twisting one of his curls with a finger.

‘I guess she just feels bad for us, either that, or she thinks one of us genuinely stands a chance,’ Ceres responded,
‘My district hasn’t got a victor in over two decades now, I guess we should just appreciate how both of the victors are still holding on then, especially after their daughter died some time ago,’ She continued, ‘I know for a damn fact I wouldn’t have been there anymore if I stood in their place,’

‘And you already can’t handle life yourself now, you miserable child, don’t lie to yourself, you know that everyone hates you, and so do you. You’d be better off dead!’ Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, though Ceres was unsure whether this was her imagination or a fragment from a memory.

In her head she saw crimson blood, though she couldn’t tell if it was her own. A broken mirror, scars on her arms, a mother who hated her own child.

Yes, she would’ve been better off dead, her mother was right.

‘Are you alright?,’ Someone asked, Ceres’ eyes slowly adapting to reality again.

‘You were shaking for a second,’ Bovis continued.

Ceres nodded, blinking with her eyes and regaining her confidence, or at least the facade of it.

‘Yeah, I’m fine, just a bit nervous for the parade,’ How could she tell someone she’d just met, someone not even from her own district, someone she might have to kill in the hunger games, that she wasn’t fine at all, that her own mother hated her, that she was a dead girl walking.

She knew he didn’t fully believe what she had said, but he didn’t argue against it either. He just wished her ‘Good luck,’ and went to his own districts’ carriage again.

‘See you in training!’ she voiced, as she approached her own chariot.

The silence now allowed her to take a closer look at some of the tributes, most of which had already positioned themselves on the chariots, anxiously waiting for the parade to start.

The 3’s were still looking miserable, though it appeared that the stylists took enough pity on them to give them a sort of cape, which solved some but not all of their problems.

The district 8 tributes were talking to each other, while the tributes from 6 silently sat on the ground, the boy’s face frozen in shock, and the district 7 girl was still talking to her mentor, who appeared to be her father, judging by the similar green eyes and auburn hair.

Redirecting her attention to her own mentors, Ceres saw that both of them had engaged in some kind of serious conversation.

As Sylva saw Ceres look at them, she stopped, and both mentors now turned their attention to their tributes.

‘The gamemakers will soon say that you should get onto your chariot, so I just need to say that you shouldn’t fall off. You won’t be the first nor the last person to do so, and if you even make it into the arena then, it’ll only give you more trouble,’ Veles cautioned.

‘We will be cheering for you in the audience somewhere, and it’s over before you know it,’ Sylva continued with a dead voice, like she’d been repeating the same thing ever since she had won.

And indeed, a loud, mechanic voice arose from the ceiling, telling all the tributes to stand on their assigned spot on the chariots, and as Ceres stood on hers, fixating her attention to the doorway from which the in gemstone dressed district 1 pair would commence the parade, she whispered to Harvest;
‘It’ll be alright, I think, just don’t cry,’

‘Okay,’ He spoke softly, ‘I will try, for my siblings,’

The doors opened, rays of sunlight enlightening Ceres’ face. The golden light made her hair appear lighter, and the dark circles under her eyes appeared to be almost invisible.

Ceres looked younger, for once not dressed in the dark colors matching her sorrow, and she knew the Capitol would love her that way.

She blinked her eyes, practising her fake smile, and before knew it, the chariot had started moving.

Before their chariot even rode past the doors, Ceres waved, looking over the heads of the colorful district 8 tributes in front of her.

She urged Harvest to do the same thing, and was relieved to see that he had actually started to smile a bit.

Her face was all fake confidence and laughs, which she’d seen Saturn sporting, and Ceres knew that he was loved by the Capitol, so she just had to play into that.

She laughed everything away, and apparently it worked; as soon as the audience, their outfits even more outrageous than she’d seen them in Heavensbee town, (the place some Capitol merchants visited for both a drink and business) had appeared in her view, they started cheering, shouting her name.

Kisses were blown towards her, and amongst the various roses flying around, Ceres caught one and held it up with her hand.

Another one fell on her cheek, the sharp thorns piercing into her skin. A small crimson tear flowed down, and, used to the pain, it didn’t bother Ceres at all. She had endured worse.

The girl just nonchalantly wiped the blood away, blowing a kiss to the audience. They were cheering louder now, shouting her name in enthusiasm.

She was supposed to feel euphoric, with all the attention directed to her, but it felt double too, people cheering for a girl who, in her own eyes, was already dead…

—------------

As the chariots finally stopped in front of Snow’s mansion, Ceres had time to catch her breath, and recompose herself more properly.

She pulled loose dark strands of hair behind her ears, and forced her mouth into a neutral smile. For the person she, and all the other tributes sat in front of, was no one other than Coriolanus Snow, the president of Panem, Ceres had to leave a good impression, knowing her fate rested partially on his shoulders.

Ceres imagined Seia standing in the exact same spot, two years ago now, dressed in an amaranth colored dress that suited her hair.

On television she had appeared to be scared, but Ceres just wished she would have known what exactly crossed her friend’s mind at the time.

If only she could talk to her again, or visit her grave to just be close to Seia again, though they would still be 6 feet apart.

But no, Seia was gone, and Ceres forced herself to think about the near future now, as she would be able to dwell in the past while asleep. Nostalgia was something for her weaker moments, the times when she was allowed to have flaws.

Now her face was showcased all over Panem, and she had to make an example, so anyone out there might consider sponsoring her.

Snow’s speech had been similar to the one given every year, yet Ceres still paid close attention.

Foolishly, she believed that he would drop a hint about the games there, but his words were filled with nothing but emptiness. All the same shit about honoring the fallen, and the districts offering up their children for a war that happened before most people in the audience were even alive.

Still, she looked straight into president Snow’s snake-like face, the visible veins and serpent eyes making her feel uncomfortable.

‘I wish you happy hunger games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!’ He concluded, and with that, the ceremony ended.

Ceres understood however that the games wouldn’t commence in the arena, but that they had already started the moment the first name was drawn, or even before that. There were oddsmakers already betting on their victor, gamemakers deciding the narrative, sponsors, everything.

If she wanted to win, she would have to play right into their cards, even if that meant that she had to hide her true self...

selcouth; unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous.

Chapter Text

As the carriages headed back to the tribute center, Ceres closed her eyes to the sounds of the applauding crowd. Actually, she did enjoy all the attention drawn to her and the other tributes.

If she were a victor, she would have to get used to it all, the parties, the interviews, mentoring, there was so much she’d have to do.

Maybe that was why both Sylva and Veles had looked so burnt out, the dark circles under their eyes indicating all the sleepless nights they must’ve been through. But on the other hand, victory did wonders for the physique of Brutus, one of district 2’s victors.

So maybe she would be fine, maybe she’d never have to face her mother again, even if she did make it.

As Ceres walked to the elevator, her mentors and Harvest behind her, she noticed a hushed conversation from some of the other tributes.

Slowly coming closer, she heard the tributes from 1 and 4 talking to each other.

‘Are you sure you don’t want her in the alliance?’ The girl from one spoke.

‘I said no outliers this year!’ The four boy replied.
‘I’m sure she’s good with a scythe and stuff, but we have to set an example this year. One of us has to win, and not just because ‘their father is sick’ and they have to save him,’

‘Agreed,’ The girl replied. ‘Ceres would be just as much an embarrassing victor as Bella was last year,’

Ceres inaudibly gasped, and tightened her fists, and was about to attack them when she noticed her own stupidity. She had been so caught up in playing into the Capitol’s cards that she almost forgot that the other tributes might hold her back from victory too. And their kills would be dragged out just as much as one of starvation would be.

If she would make a move, she could as well spray-paint a target on her back with the words ‘Hit me’ on it.

So instead, she walked away, trying to restore her dignity until she was in the apartment appointed to the district 9 tributes.

The place was a lot bigger than she had expected, not being used to such a space at home. The walls were painted in a soft yellow tone, contrasting the colour that the district often wore in the hunger games, but the furniture painted in other pastel colours did make it work, and it didn’t remind Ceres of the house she lived in with her mother, which she liked.

If anything, her stay here could make her forget, maybe she would be able to build up a life again, if she could win.

But firstly, she had to survive, which would be a lot harder if she didn’t know how to control herself. Surely, she had already won over a part of the audience, but the other tributes were the ones who were actually out to kill her.

So she decided to join dinner with the rest of her district’s team, after taking a long shower and getting changed.

Her own bedroom had been bigger than she could ever imagine, with a gigantic walk-in-closet filled with rows of clothes and a bed even softer than the one on the train.

But she shouldn’t be fully driven by her own greed, she shouldn’t take everything the Capitol handed her for granted.

In a little more than one week, Ceres would be sent into an unknown arena, where she would need to kill. And people in the Capitol would thrive off that. She knew that all the luxury given to her, had been built on nothing but bloodshed and sacrifice.

Standing under the shower reminded Ceres a bit of the rain that sporadically fell down from the skies in autumn or winter.

She had been more used to constant snowfall, for days on end even, covering the grain fields in a thick, white coat. But this shower was pleasant, and for a short moment Ceres even forgot why she was here at all.

Splashing some cold water in her face, she knocked some sense in that head of hers. She had to prepare herself for the worst to come, even if that meant that she had to lose a part of herself.

Keeping a straight face during the training sessions tomorrow would be important, as well as paying attention to every possible detail that could be handed to her.

-------------------------------------------------------

At the dinner table, Veles immediately jumped into the conversation, telling his tributes exactly what they should and shouldn’t be doing tomorrow.

‘Don’t start fights, don’t show off too much, check the edible plants section, those plants could say something about the arena,’

‘Why is he trying so hard this year?’ Harvest whispered to her.
‘It’s pointless, we haven’t got a victor in decades. Even 12 has got a more recent winner,’

‘I don’t know, it seems odd to me, both of them acting that way. Maybe they’re desperate,’ she mumbled back, redirecting her attention to her plate, noticing that the one besides her was still completely full.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’ she asked, pointing to the untouched food.

‘It won’t make a difference,’ he concluded, more loudly than he’d probably anticipated, drawing Sylva’s attention.

‘It will, trust me. No matter how doomed you think you are, never neglect the importance of nutrition. I’ve had it happen, nearly starving myself back then in order to get the illusion of control over myself, but it’s not worth it,’ she said, and Ceres felt bad for her, but unsure how to respond, or if it would even be normal to respond at all, she focused on the food again.

Thankfully, she noticed that Harvest had started to eat as well, and the conversation switched back to the upcoming training sessions.

Eventually, she dared to speak her own mind.

‘I overheard some of the other tributes talking about me,’

‘Ceres, I need you to tell me exactly what happened and what they said,’ Sylva replied with a slightly trembling voice.

‘Well, one of them wanted me in the alliance, and the other was completely against it. They said I would be an embarrassing victor if I managed to win,’ Ceres said, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

‘Okay, for both of you,’ Veles spoke,
‘It is very important that you control your emotions. Yes, they might be after you, since last year’s performance. But you should just keep your head down, and don’t engage in fights with others. You’ll sign up for a guaranteed death that way,’

‘So we should just mind our own business then?’ Harvest asked.

‘Exactly, just get yourselves a good night's sleep now, and worry about the rest tomorrow. If you have any more questions; ask them now,’ Sylva said.

That was Ceres’ que to go to her own room again, where she turned on the television, vaguely registering a rerun of the 21st hunger games, which had been won by a guy from district 6. His ego, or at least the public display he’d put on, seemed as enormous as his length, and the moment he ripped out the heart of one of the tributes, Ceres sat straight up, her whole body shivering.

‘I think I broke your heart,’ He concluded, grinning straight into the camera, though his eyes had been filled with regret.

Maybe he could fool the audience into believing that he was fine whatsoever, but the expression on his face, his widened eyes that had seen too much, spoke more than a thousand words.

Ceres had heard rumours about this man, Carter Jones; he had won at 15, claiming a record number of kills not surpassed by anyone yet, and after his victory he became wildly popular in the Capitol, until a fire evoked by one of the gangs killed him and his entire family.

Even though this had all happened decades ago, Saturn’s parents still spoke passionately about the man.

She looked at the boy on the screen, now covered in his own blood that dripped from his wounded eye, and noticed how lost he looked.

Carter, who in his victory interview seemed like an older, more composed person, now appeared so young and vulnerable, and Ceres noticed that, no matter what would happen, she had to keep a straight face.

No one, not a tribute, not a sponsor, would see her cry, ever again. Those moments of emotion, of weakness, were preserved for evenings like this one, where she would be all alone, where the flashing lights of camera’s couldn’t find her, so that not a single person would notice.

—----------------------

With her pillow still wet from her tears, Ceres woke up again, scolding herself for falling back into her emotions.

A new day came to rise, and suddenly, she was reminded that today would be reserved for training.

In her closet, a buttery yellow jacket with matching pants was put on display, and though Ceres disliked the colour, much preferring a darker tone, she put on the clothing, and tied up her hair. There, she was done.

Silently, she walked into the living room, where Sylva was already sipping from her coffee. If she believed every rumour that people told her, Ceres would think that it had been an alcohol beverage instead, but her mentor seemed sober, as if she was really going for a victor this year.

‘Morning,’ Sylva spoke, fidgeting with the ring around her finger.

Ceres sat next to her, filling her own cup with some of the coffee. She studied the ring that Sylva wore more closely, finding the shape interesting; two clasped hands with a heart in the middle.

‘Your ring is beautiful,’ Ceres said.

‘Thank you, it was my granny’s, and then I wore it for my own wedding and stuff,’ Her mentor's eyes saddened a bit.

‘But do you have any more questions about training?’ Sylva asked, wanting to change the subject,
‘I’ve made a list of training stations that might be good to visit, if you want that,’

Ceres nodded as Sylva handed her the list. Someone, probably Veles, had highlighted the edible plants station, and learning how to make a fire seemed of some importance as well.

‘Ignore stuff like crossbow shooting or blow darts. Chances of those weapons being available are small to begin with, and even then, how likely would it be that you can master those weapons in just a few days?’

‘Yeah, that’ll be smart. Do you think there are sickles to train with?’ Ceres asked.

‘Probably, it’s a popular weapon. They even had pitchforks back in my day, so you’ll be grand. Just don’t show off too much, okay?’

After she finished breakfast, Ceres went to the elevator where Harvest was already waiting for her. He had apparently been in his room all morning, conversing with Veles about possible tactics, and Ceres wondered what he might have to hide.

Deep down, she knew he was probably of no danger, but there had been underdogs before.

‘Are you excited for the training?’, she asked, expecting no answer.

‘I’m scared, Ceres, some of these kids have trained for this for years, and I at 17 can’t even stand up for myself,’ he admitted.

‘I’m scared too, sometimes, but you just need to control your fear, you’ll be fine,’

Damn it, Ceres, there goes your ‘not showing emotion’ resolution, she thought.

As they went further down, the tributes from district 6 stepped into the elevator.

Ceres remembered the boy, who had appeared to be in some state of shock during the parade, but the close proximity they were now in allowed her to study him and his district partner more in depth. They both had a similar shade of brown hair, and were just as quiet as they were before. Neither seemed to be of much danger or significance.

Hell, Ceres couldn’t even come up with their names, no matter how hard she tried. She tried to remember them, briefly considering asking them to join her alliance, but before much came of it, the elevator had already dropped down to the floor the training would be held on.

Silently, the four tributes walked to the centre, where half the tributes already sat in a neat circle, all of them wearing uniforms with their district’s colour.

Ceres sat besides Harvest and the boy from 8, and as all the tributes slowly walked in, with the in-electric-blue-dressed 3’s arriving last, she was relieved to see that the odds would be somewhat in her favour. She was not the tallest girl, but still her considerably tall length and slightly muscled build could make her somewhat of a contender, though nothing compared to the girl from 2, who towered with a height of over 6 feet.

Maybe it would help her, all the hard, physical labour she did back in 9, if she really wanted to win. Ceres didn’t know. She couldn’t make out whether she actually wanted to end up as the victor, after all.

But maybe even then, if she wanted the plan she could as well call a suicide mission to succeed, it would do. People saw her as a threat, and if she showed off more, she’d definitely be targeted by at least some careers in the bloodbath. But did she actually want that?

Did she want to win or lose?

Lost in her thoughts, Ceres barely noticed a woman walking in as the clock struck 10. Ceres recognised her from television; the head of training, Atala. In an almost militaristic pace, she approached the middle of the circle, where she told everyone to ‘be silent and listen’.

Atala reminded Ceres almost of a teacher she had a few years back, and she immediately knew consequences would follow if she didn’t listen to what she had to say.

‘In a couple weeks, 23 of you will be dead,’

Yeah, no shit, Ceres thought, rolling her eyes.

‘One of you will be crowned victor. Who that is, depends on how well you use your time here,’
Atala continued with a monotonous voice, as if she had been saying the same words every year for decades. And Ceres realised she might as well have.

Her speech was boring, and seemed to not be of much importance whatsoever. Of course you shouldn’t fight during training, of course everyone knew how the scoring system worked, it got explained every year on television. And yes, Ceres would pay attention to the survival skills. Her mentor would hate her if she didn’t.

Firstly, Ceres went to the edible plants station, where she met up with Bovis again.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hi, are you still up for the alliance?’
Bovis went straight to the point, but his way of talking didn’t seem rude at all.

‘Of course, I’d rather not be facing the arena alone,’ Ceres responded.

‘Yeah, it’s nice to have a friend here,’

A friend? Ceres was flattered, but she attempted to not let it show.

So, despite him only knowing her for a few days, he already considered her as someone he could trust? Well, people thought better of her than she was, she supposed.

Doing the plant identification test the trainer prepared was easier than expected, and though Ceres was no expert on plants, like Veles, she did recognise most from back home.

Bovis struggled more, being unfamiliar with all the different mosses and grasses, and Ceres guessed that district 10’s climate must’ve been much different from the cold one she was used to.

Still, it seemed strange to her that the vegetation seemed so focused on plants that Bovis never heard about. She decided to make a mental note of certain species, and later pass it on to Veles, who would probably be able to tell more about them.

‘How are you so good at this?’
Bovis asked as both of them walked to the next station, where they would learn how to skin an animal.

Ceres shrugged; ‘I don’t know, guess I just got lucky that the type of plants I saw were similar to the ones back home,’

‘Then you might get lucky with the arena, too. I’ve heard that the training is meant to be foreshadowing sometimes,’

Ceres nodded- she had heard the same thing as well.
‘Yes, but it may be a red herring. We should still take in as much information as we can during these days,’

Skinning was something Bovis was skilled at, so much so that Ceres would be afraid of her if he hadn’t been her ally.

‘This may not be the most pleasant thing to hear, but I kill the animals back home,’

‘Declares a lot,’ Ceres replied,
‘Well, I’m just glad that I have you on my team then. With cutting a sheaf of grain you can only come this far,’
She continued, focusing on the basic anatomy exercises on the screen.

‘So beheading them would be the quickest?’
Ceres asked the trainer, not really knowing whether or not she would use these tactics only on animals.

The thought of taking a human life freaked her out, but it was the hunger games after all, she had to do this.

‘Or the heart, of course, if you cut through the main blood vessels, you’ll cut off the necessary supply of blood that is needed for survival,’ the trainer spoke, saying the words in almost a robotic manner.
‘I know you're wondered whether or not you can use those techniques on your other victims too,’ He continued, his eyes pointing to the careers, who were busy at the wrestling station.
‘The answer is yes, you absolutely can,’ He paused for a second,

‘Just don’t, you know, eat them,’

—-----------------

Ceres and Bovis visited a couple other stations after that, teaching themselves new skills or brushing up already existing ones, but to Ceres, it didn’t feel all that exciting. She wanted to fight, to get started on weaponry already, but she had to wait, as Atala now called the tributes out for lunch.

As expected, all the careers sat at the same table, and most of the other tributes sat alone or in duo’s. As for Ceres, both Bovis and surprisingly also Harvest came to join her, making them the second largest group that was bound to attract some attention from the others.

And so it happened; As the three of them were grabbing lunch from a buffet similar to the one on the train, the boy from 4 suddenly approached them, pushing Harvest in an attempt to grab a piece of bread from the counter. The impact of his muscled arm made Harvest fall to the ground, having not enough strength to keep himself up.

‘You could’ve just asked us to make space for you,’ Ceres mumbled.

‘What did you say? Speak up, please!' 4 boy spoke.

‘Nice one, Orinoco!’ one of his allies replied.

A sudden wave of recklessness filled Ceres, as she answered: ‘I just think it’s polite to wait for your turn, like every normal human being. But of course you and your massive ego think you’re so entitled to get whatever you want,’

Orinoco raised his hand, attempting to slap her.

He was trained, but his bulky figure made it possible for the much smaller and faster Ceres to avoid his fist, and instead award him with a blue eye.

Both wanted to continue the fight, but just as Orinoco attempted an attack again, he was broken off by Atala, suddenly appearing behind the two.

‘Keep it civil here okay? You have enough time to fight in the arena,'

She spoke up: ‘For anyone who seems to deal with 'memory loss' ; fighting with other tributes before the games is strictly prohibited!’

Atala walked away again, leaving all the tributes on their own.

Fuming, Orinoco wanted to confront Ceres once more, though his allies made sure he kept his distance.

‘Just wait till the arena, 9, you and your pathetic little allies will be the first to die. At my hands.’

Ceres rolled her eyes, unimpressed by what he had said, knowing that Orinoco had also hurt his own reputation.
‘If were you, I'd be more worried about your position in your own alliance, seeing as you just embarrassed the fuck out of them by letting you get defeated by someone half your size. You and your alliance are all ego and muscles, but you won't achieve anything with only that.’

‘Do you want to die or something, 9, dictating us like that? Should I put an end to your life now, if that's what you want?’
Orinoco spat out, almost slurring the words as if he had been impacted by hers.

‘23 of us will die anyway, and there’s a chance of 23/24 that one of them will be you. See you in the arena,’
Ceres said, walking away with a smirk on her face.

—-----------------------------------------------------

The afternoon was spent doing compulsory exercises, and Ceres caught Atala keeping an eye on both her and Orinoco.

Though neither suffered serious injuries following their ‘fight’, some of Orinoco’s self confidence seemed to stagger, resulting in a poor performance from him during the climbing exercise.

Hell, even his allies didn’t seem satisfied with him, Aemelia from 2 even erupting in laughter after he had almost tripped.

Ceres’ own performance luckily didn’t go as bad as she expected, considering that in the flat landscape of district 9, she barely found herself having to climb, but the tributes from 7 were the absolute stars here, and the boy from 6, (Ti-berius? Ceres couldn’t come up with his name), also managed to do a good job. She didn’t know where he got that skill from, but if the arena was going to have a lot of tall surfaces, she knew he was one to watch.

The next three exercises dealt with simple knife techniques, basic first aid, and running. Ceres was quite good at the majority, though she knew she would probably have to rely on Bovis’ first aid skills rather than hers, as apart from knowing how to use a band-aid, she really lacked knowledge in that department.

After she was done with them all, Ceres took the opportunity to look at the people around her again; 11 and 12 were now chatting with each other. None of them would stand a chance, to be fair, with their malnourished small frames and hollow cheeks, but it would be disheartening to say that to them, and Ceres felt bad looking at them for any longer, so her eyes found someone else.

The girl from 10 had been refusing to sit near her district partner at all, and she wondered why she seemed to hate Bovis so much, throwing daggers at him with her eyes every time she looked at him. But asking about it seemed quite invasive to Ceres, so she just let it slide.

-------------------------------------------------

For the remainder of the day, Ceres decided to stick with Bovis and Harvest, and the three of them finally went to one of the weapon stations.

The familiar feeling of the sickle in her hand was soothing, and it finally felt as if she was coming home again. Even slicing through the dummies, knowing that those were meant to replicate the real tributes she had to kill to win, felt comforting, finally letting her anger get out in a more positive way.

And even the trainer awarded Ceres with compliments, saying that if she wouldn’t have been involved in the games, she would bet on her, and urged her to train with two sickles as well.

The suggestion seemed weird at first, but as Ceres thought about it more thoroughly, she realised that it would definitely give her an advantage. Even back home, she’d sometimes used both her arms in the fields, resulting in the strength in her body being evenly split between both of them.

And after what only felt like a couple minutes of practice, but according to the clock had been 2 hours, both sickles almost felt like an extension of her arms.

Ceres felt as if she was on top of the world, as if she was invincible, as if nothing stood in the way of her victory. But after she stared at Orinoco’s determined face, she brought herself back to the harsh reality that a lot would need to happen if she really wanted to win…

akrasia; lack of self-control

Chapter Text

After Ceres was done at the station, she could see some of the tributes from 1 and 4 casting envious glances at her, but she quickly looked away, pretending to be unfazed. She wanted to laugh at them again, the bruise around Orinoco’s eye still so clearly visible, wearing his defeat on his face, but then she remembered that that was utterly stupid.

The girl had already made herself a target by attacking him directly, and if she wanted to fulfil the promise she made to Saturn, if she wanted to pretend to care about her own life, she had two options; Making herself forgettable -which would be almost impossible now-  or making sure she was prepared for war. 

It might’ve been foolish to show off her weapon in such a way, but Ceres knew the training was televised.

By now, she cared more about her image than her performance, and though that would undoubtedly doom her in the end, she knew how big of a role the Capitol audience, and especially the gamemakers, played in these games. If she made sure that she appeared to be on their side, her death wouldn’t end up being extremely gruesome. 

On the balcony, a few feet above, the ‘judges’ sat. Most were bored out of their mind, focusing on the food rather than the tributes. Ceres didn’t blame them, she would’ve done the same.

But there was one man, his bright purple clothes indicating that he must be the head gamemaker, who was curiously scanning through the people beneath him. His eyes, the irises a greenish-brown, crossed hers, and Ceres couldn’t help but notice the genuine softness in them, as if he cared about her. His eyes almost seemed like they reflected hers, being almost the same colour, and it made her extremely uncomfortable, his gaze still lingering on her.

Ceres quickly turned away, facing Bovis again, and the two of them decided to walk to the next station, machetes. Bovis had told her that he did kill some animals back home, so it didn’t surprise Ceres that he was good at it, the blade slicing through the dummies so naturally, just like Ceres’ sickles did, just a few minutes ago.

The girl from 5 stood behind them, her eyes filled with terror. She didn’t even attempt to finish widening the small hole she had made in the dummy, but hastily darted away, back to her district partner. 

‘Well, it seems like you’re quite intimidating now,’ Ceres half-jokingly said.

‘I didn’t… I didn’t actually mean to scare her off. It’s just that I want to come back, and this is the one skill I have, and I actually hate it. I’ve never liked to kill, but I just want to see him again…’ Bovis responded, attempting to hold in his tears.

‘Hey, it’s okay. I can do the dirty work, if you want. You deserve to go home to whoever this person is,’ Ceres replied, placing a comforting arm on Bovis’ shoulder.

She thought back on the reaping. There had been a boy, from around the same age as he was, who had been crying over him.

‘Was it that boy in the crowd?’ She carefully asked.

‘Yes, his name is Alec, and… well… promise me you won’t judge me for it, but I love him,’ 

Ceres thought back about the moment she had first kissed a girl, Gwen from school when she was 15, and how passionately it felt, even though Gwen would move to a different settlement just a few weeks after, never saying a word about the kiss ever again.

It was forbidden to love someone of your own sex. You would risk paying a fee, going to prison, or worse, getting lynched by your mother and her friends. Because that was what would happen if Ceres ever told about the way she loved.

She wasn’t ready to talk about her own experiences yet, but Ceres tried to comfort Bovis as best as she could, one of the careers even dropping by and calling them ‘lovebirds’. Both of them laughed at that, genuinely, and it made the atmosphere a whole lot better.

Ceres knew she could trust Bovis, especially after he had told something so personal to her. He would never betray, she knew that too, and she wouldn’t do that either.

—---------------------------------

As the training ended, Ceres walked to the elevator, closely followed by Bovis and Harvest. They didn’t say much, considering the tributes from district 2 had also joined them, which made Ceres stare at her own hands, noticing the bruises on the knuckles she had previously not seen. She was no stranger to bruises and wounds, of course, but tried to hide them either way.

No one could see how she was hurt, even though she did this to herself by fighting him.

Eventually, the elevator stopped at the ninth floor, and the doors slowly opened.

Even from here, Ceres could already smell the delicious dinner that had been prepared for all of them, a sheer contrast to the tesserae bread she had been eating just a few days ago.

Harvest was awfully quiet, shooting some sad glances her way. There were some bruises from earlier today still showing in his face, but he, on the contrary, made no effort to hide them. 

Walking inside, Ceres noticed the two victors, who were involved in a deep discussion, their hands entwined with each other, barely noticing that their tributes had just walked in.

Ceres snuck to her own room, taking a shower and changing into something more comfortable. She settled for a simple black dress, wanting to get rid of the obnoxious amount of colour she had to wear during training.

When she stepped into the living room again, most of district 9’s team was already sitting at the dinner table, tempted to start eating. One face was missing, Harvest’s, and despite Veles’ best attempts to get him to join as well, he stayed in his room. 

‘So, how was the training?’ Iris asked, the two mentors still staying silent.

‘It was fine, really. Taught myself some new skills,’ She replied.

‘What are those bruises on your hands?’ Sylva asked, ‘Did you fight with someone?’

Ceres turned red, and she couldn’t regain any sense of control over the situation despite normally being able to hide her emotions.

‘The boy from 4 pushed Harvest, I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing!’

‘Yes, you could have!’ Sylva said with a harsh tone, angrier than she had ever sounded.

Ceres shivered, knowing what was about to come. Sylva would walk up to her slowly, grabbing a belt or just use her hands, and hit her.

But she sat still, Veles holding her hand.

‘Sylvie, please…’ Veles begged. ‘I’ll handle it. We should all just calm down,’

Sylva walked away to her own room, the door shutting with a loud ‘bang’.

‘Don’t worry about her, she’ll be fine. She just… doesn’t want you to die, that’s all,’

That surprised Ceres, who had significantly calmed down now.

Veles continued talking; ‘Going back to the topic, that wasn’t your brightest idea, Ceres. I know you want to help Harvest, but do you really want to gamble with your own life like that?’

‘I was angry. I couldn’t stand how that boy was just threatening him, as if he didn’t have anything better to do. I know it was stupid, I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry, okay?!’

Veles nodded, accepting her apology. ‘The past is the past, we can’t change it anymore. Keep a low profile tomorrow, learn some skills you think are needed. Sylva will be fine soon, I think. She can help you with the details tomorrow, but for now I need to know what you actually did today,’ 

‘I went to a few different stations, the plant one first, and it was quite strange-,’

‘Please elaborate, what was strange?’ Veles asked.

‘Well, there were mainly some mosses and grass and not that many edible plants, just a few berries. One of them was called a cloudberry, if I remember correctly...,’ she paused for a second. ‘Oh, and another plant was a bearberry or something,’

‘Good that you paid attention. This is definitely hinting towards a colder arena,’

Ceres was happy with that, not having to end up in last year’s desert or an unfamiliar jungle. 

‘How do you know?’ she found herself asking.

‘I was studying to be a botanist, before I got reaped. The amount of lessons that were filled with just discussing different vegetation and the corresponding climates was uncountable. But I’m glad I got something useful out of it,’ 

After some time, a much more calmed-down Sylva joined them again, who immediately started to apologise to Ceres. ‘I shouldn’t have been so angry at you, really. God, but I’m turning into a mom again,’

‘It’s okay, I’d rather have you as a mom than who I have right now. You had all the right to be angry, I’d be angrier,’ Ceres laughed, attempting to hide how desperately she longed for a parent who actually cared by turning the statement into a partial joke.

But Sylva could see right through it, and gently stroke Ceres’ hair behind her ear. 

‘No, I overreacted. It won’t happen again, I promise,’

Ceres was hesitant to believe her, seeing as all the ‘promises’ her mother had made ended absolutely nowhere, but eventually she did.

‘You should go to bed now,’ Sylva spoke again, ‘Get some rest, think about what you want to do tomorrow,’ 

—-------------------------

In her bed, Ceres started to recap everything that had happened today in her mind.

Especially Veles’ words about the plants stuck with her. ‘ This is definitely hinting towards a colder arena…’

Would the arena really be so easy to discover? Was this really a hint from the gamemakers? But then again, ‘a colder arena’ could mean an awful lot of things; from a frozen wasteland to mountains, to a woodland, or even an entirely new concept, something she had never seen before. 

She eventually fell to sleep, quicker than the nights before, which surprised her.

Her dreams however, were rougher. She was being chased by some bears, their fur as white as the snow around her, and the ground was collapsing beneath her. Eventually, she gave up, pushing through the ice, falling into a deep ocean.

Ceres had never gone swimming, but the arena a few years ago did give her an idea as to what it actually felt like.

She was falling down. Drowning. After what seemed like an eternity, she spotted her mother’s eyes piercing into her, and she awoke in shock.

She was in the Capitol, for just another day of training. Ceres was safe from her mother, but not from the other tributes…

—----------

Breakfast passed by quickly, with Veles saying that they should definitely go to the fire-making station, winking at Ceres, but not in a creepy way like the gamemaker had done. 

With it being the second day, all the tributes could start training right after they walked in, and Ceres noticed some tributes, like the ones from 12 and 6, had taken that opportunity to get some more sleep, or just having some free time for themselves.

Despite this, Sylva and Veles had been very keen on their tributes still joining training as soon as the gymnasium opened, and so both tributes from district 9 stood there as the clock struck 10, with Ceres immediately walking towards Bovis, who was running some laps on the treadmill. 

She joined him, and noticed that her stamina wasn’t actually the worst, but could definitely use some improvement. Just as she was focused on just the running, Bovis whispered; ‘The pair from 2 are here, we should leave,’

Ceres nodded, though the two tributes weren’t actually that caught up with them, instead focused on improving their endurance as well.

But she also knew better; though they might seem nicer, not constantly putting people down and gossiping, they would be just as deadly as the others in the arena. 

—----------------------

‘If you win, what are you going to do first?’ Bovis asked her.

It was already lunchtime, and the two tributes were engaged in a conversation.

‘I don’t know, I’d like to buy a better guitar or something,’ She said, but really, Ceres hadn’t planned farther than her own vague, presumed death.

‘How about you?’ She managed to bring out,

‘I want to marry my boyfriend,’ He said, ‘I’d be rich enough for the peacekeepers to turn a blind eye, and then He’ll move in with me, and I never have to slaughter animals anymore, that would be nice,’

Bovis zoned out, probably imagining this future.

‘But you play guitar?’ He asked, ‘I didn’t know that,’ 

‘Well, we only know each other for like 3 days now, so it would be kind of strange if you did, but yes, I do play sometimes. Wouldn’t say I’m very good at it though, but it’s the last thing I got from my father and well, I just figured I could make great use of it,’ Ceres replied.

‘If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your father?’

She looked down, carefully preparing her answer. She hadn’t even told Saturn the whole truth about her life at home, and she’d known him for over a decade. Hell, even Seia never knew how strict Ceres’ mother could really be. So why would Bovis get to know the truth, if Ceres didn’t even know if she could consider him a friend. 

‘Listen, I don’t really want to talk about it, sorry,’ She eventually spoke.

‘Should we go to the fire-making station next?’ Ceres continued, focusing on the training again.

Bovis nodded. ‘We should ask Harvest if he wants to be in the alliance with us too, numbers you know?’

‘Yeah, why don’t we walk up to him right now? I’m done eating,’ Ceres agreed. 

The two approached Harvest, who was sitting alone at his table, yet again neglecting the food in front of him.

‘What… what do you want?’ He spoke with an unsteady voice.

‘We want you in our alliance,’ Bovis kindly replied.

‘No. I’ll only slow you down,’ Ceres’ district partner replied, ‘Can you please leave me alone now,’ He sobbed, and they went away.

—---------------------

‘How do you make a fire?’ District 8’s girl asked the instructor.

As the woman started to explain, Ceres and Bovis listened as well, making sure that by the time they were in the arena, this information wouldn’t be unknown to them.

Of course Ceres had made a fire before, but that was with some colleagues, and they actually had a proper bonfire. In the arena, she wasn’t even certain if there would actually be firewood, or if the gamemakers would decide to make this year into more of a challenge. 

After that, they went on to do some archery, as well as sword fighting and camouflage. None of them were things Ceres was particularly skilled in, but it was nice to also get to train things she wasn’t that good at.

Though she did realise she was practically screwed if there were only bows and arrows in the arena, Ceres didn’t worry much about doing it badly. If anything, the careers would think of her as less of a threat, and redirect their attention to someone else.

—-----------------------------

Dinner had been delicious again, and passed by relatively quickly.

To Ceres’ surprise, the only thing Sylva and Veles had drank was a glass of champagne for dessert, a luxury she was also allowed. This wasn’t the first time Ceres had drunk alcohol, having it at parties back home sometimes, so the taste was nothing unfamiliar, but she still missed the raw goods they had back in 9.

It was strange how she longed for some things back there, but absolutely wanted nothing to do with others anymore.

Ceres lingered at the table for a bit, and was surprised to see her mentors do the same. Sylva had apparently heard about her playing guitar, because she was immediately asking her if she needed one for the interviews.

‘Definitely not,’ She answered. ‘I’m not good at it, and I don’t want to show that part of myself to the audience. But if there’s one available, just for practise, I would like that, yeah,’

Sylva nodded, ‘There might actually be an old one lying around in one of the rooms here, Farina used to play as well sometimes, before she passed,’ 

Ceres was content with doing small talk with her mentors, considering she was not in the mood for watching another rerun of one of the games.

‘How do you actually spend your time as a victor?’ She asked.

‘There are two different answers you could give to that, and one of them is just wasting your time getting drunk or high. Victory is actually quite boring, and hard,’ Veles said. 

‘And the other answer?’ Ceres asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

‘I paint, Veles cooks, we garden sometimes,’ Sylva answered. ‘There were times where… Well, when my daughter was still alive… we spent a lot of time with her, and…’

She trailed off, getting stuck in her own memories. ‘I’m just some wee, miserable lady nowadays…’

‘No you’re not,’ Veles replied, wiping Sylva’s tears away with his fingers, ‘And even if you were, I wouldn’t love you any less,’

He kissed her on the cheek, and, perhaps because she was a bit tipsy, Ceres asked; ‘So, you guys are a thing?’ 

Of course she had heard the gossip around town. The daughter Sylva briefly mentioned was reportedly from the both of them, as the father of the child was still unknown, even after she got reaped for the hunger games. There had been rumours of some secret wedding as well, some years ago. How true it all was, Ceres didn’t know, but looking at the two victors, the passion in their eyes as they looked at each other, there was definitely some truth to it.

‘Well, yes, we are,’ Sylva replied, ‘And don’t worry, you can questions about this all, I’ve never had a tribute who is genuinely interested in anything beyond the hunger games, and understandingly so, but sometimes it’s good to talk about something else,’

‘Yeah, I can agree with that,’ Veles added.

Ceres could only partially understand how the two felt every year, having to give the same advice to someone who would almost always die. District 9 had been going on for 24 years without a victor, their most recent winner being Veles, who was already in his forties, and there was a small chance they would break that pattern any time soon.

Suddenly, as Sylva was playing with one of Veles’ earrings, it struck Ceres that she still had to ask if she could take her piercings into the arena.

‘Sadly no, I think, only studs, and even then, I’d personally take out the top ones for safety reasons,’ Sylva said. ‘They’re very strict with sharp things, one of last year’s tokens wasn’t allowed because it was a brooch,’

‘What were your tokens then?’ Ceres asked, hopefully coming up with inspiration for her own.

‘I had a shamrock necklace, it was my granda’s or something’

‘What’s a shamrock?’ Ceres wondered, being totally unfamiliar with the word.

‘A clover, but my grandparents always used to call it that, for some reason,’

Ceres nodded, directing her attention to Veles; ‘What was yours?’

‘The generic sunflower necklace, nothing fancy like Sylva’s. You don’t have one?’ 

Ceres shook her head, ‘I’m pretty sure you actually need a loving family for that,’ She remarked, deadpanned.

There was some sadness in her voice though, and Sylva yet again didn’t let that go unnoticed. She comforted the girl, saying that they could make one together now, if they’d like.

Veles went to his room, coming back a few minutes later with some glue, paint and baking supplies.

‘I unfortunately don’t have dried grass, so it won’t be authentic at all, but a simple rope will have to do,’ He spoke, ‘There is an oven in the kitchen here, so it’s relatively easy,’ 

The three started making the dough immediately, and Ceres realised, once again, how badly she actually wanted to be part of a functioning family. How much she longed for it all, just to never be possible. She would die soon, she was sure of it.

A nd even if the unimaginable happened, if she managed to win, would there still be people out there who cared about her? Who she could call a ‘family’?

When they were done making the necklace, when the sunflower had finished baking, the paint had dried, Ceres hung the thing around her neck, being very pleased with the outcome.

Of course Sylva, being an artist, had done the most, creating the shape, mixing the paint in the colour yellow Ceres liked the most, a golden tone reminiscent of a victory crown, but in the end it didn’t matter who did what, it mattered most that she felt happier.

No matter who took the crown, no matter who would take her life, her final days here would be the best of her life.

—-------------------------------

The next morning, Ceres woke up, reminding herself that today would be the last time she could practise her skills, the last time she could give everything to prevent going into the arena unprepared. It was helpless, trying to learn something new in the 3 hours she still had, so she kept in mind that it would be best to only focus on improving the skills she already had. 

During breakfast, Sylva mentioned that she had filed an official alliance contract for Ceres and Bovis, which she had forgotten to mention earlier.

This contract would mean that their sponsor funds would be combined, her mentor had said. But really it was all just another way of the gamemakers keeping track.

It really shouldn’t be so important. But it was, imagine all the commotion that would arise if she betrayed him, if their paths diverged for unforeseen reasons.

It was important to score high, Ceres thought to herself. Otherwise, no one would want to sponsor her, and the plan she and Saturn had so carefully put together would collapse.

And then, if she would be targeted by the careers, at least she could go out with a ‘bang’, not die of something utterly dull. After all, she had to pretend like she cared so much about staying alive, she had to fight, so that no one would dare to steal the victory crown from her ice-cold fingers. If she would even still have all her fingers in the end, that was. 

The elevator took Ceres down to the training grounds, one last time.

Despite it only being the third time, she had gotten used to the environment so quickly that it almost scared her.

The tribute went straight to the sickle station, knowing that was the skill she probably wanted to show to the gamemakers. Some were looking at the tributes already, and Ceres wondered whether their performance in this part of training would impact their scores already. Or maybe they were just intrigued by what all the tributes had managed to do in so little time. 

This time, Bovis didn’t join her at the sickles, instead focusing on his weapon of choice, a machete.

They had both agreed on that, earlier today. Still, Ceres kept an eye on the boy, hoping that he was doing alright.

She ran around a few other places, but could barely focus.

Despite all, she was actually quite nervous about the whole thing. Would she actually be able to impress the gamemakers? Or would she end up dead last in the odds, and suffer a terrible fate engineered by them?

—---------------------------

Lunch was more anxious than usual, reminding Ceres of test days during her school days, which seemed so long ago, even though she had only stopped going the moment she turned 17 last summer, because her mother wanted her to ‘actually do something useful’, which practically meant taking on more work than she could actually manage.

Yet, the cafeteria filled with the tributes, their sweaty foreheads gleaming in the vibrant LED-lights, took her back to happier days, times where she could easily escape from her mother.

Just like on exam days, most people here sat alone, and seemed to be caught up in their mental preparation for the individual sessions. Ceres, on the contrary, sat together with Bovis, and the two cautiously whispered some words to each other, in order to not break the communal silence that had filled the room. 

-----------------------------

‘By the way, Sylva has done the alliance-contract thing,’ Ceres mentioned,

‘That’s good, right?’ Bovis replied.

‘Yes it is, if one of us dies, at least the other one gets the sponsor money,’ She added, immediately scolding herself for being so dreary about it. 

Suddenly, the same mechanical voice Ceres had heard during the parade, echoed through the building; ‘Will all the tributes please sit on their assigned spot to wait for individual evaluations,’

A previously enclosed part of the cafeteria lit up, with 24 seats becoming visible, each one having a district number and a gender painted on it.

Ceres quickly walked down to her place, a chair somewhat in the back of the room, ‘9F’ it said. Great, now she didn’t even have a name. She was nothing but a number to these people, and she wanted to be so much more than that.

The wall ‘rolled down’, making Ceres not able to see the rest of the training room anymore, which was fair, as everything that would happen in here was supposed to be a secret. Still, there were two doors in the room, one of them leading to the training hall, and the other one marked with an exit sign.

She knew that she could still walk out, but she’d probably be awarded with a ‘1’, so she stayed put. 

----------------------------

‘Suede Kingston,’ The voice called out, and the self-assured brown haired boy from district 1 walked out the room, raising his chin high.

He didn’t come back, probably left through the main entrance, and as the minutes passed, the room began to empty even more.

District 8’s ‘Cotty Agar-Elis’ almost burst into tears when her name got called, and, dreading her walk there, she complained about not knowing what to do there. This made Ceres think even more about what she actually had to present to impress the gamemakers, especially so late into the sessions. There was a possibility her years of experience in the field wasn’t enough, and no one would sponsor her with a low score.

She had to be unique, but not so much that it freaked the gamemakers out.

Upon hearing ‘Harvest Lund’ from the speakers, Ceres’ district partner walked out, his head hanging low.

The minutes passed by even slower now, and Ceres just exchanged a few words with Bovis, wishing him luck as well.

She did not know what to do, except pick up a few sickles and perhaps swing them around. 

‘Ceres Grist,’ it finally sounded, and the girl slowly walked towards the door, taking a last glance at the room she left behind. Ceres redid her ponytail, gathering the tangled, sweaty strands with a hair tie, and smiled.

Bovis mouthed; ‘You got this,’ to her, and she slowly opened the door. 

Unsurprisingly, very few of the gamemakers were actually completely focused on the tribute in front of them, with most being in awe of the steak that laid in front of them. It wouldn’t surprise Ceres if most had been drunk already, but the head gamemaker kept his eyes focused on her.

‘Ceres Grist, district 9,’ He spoke, which made more of the people around him sit up straight and study her in detail. ‘Please present us your chosen skill,’ 

And she did. Ceres walked to the rack of sickles, somewhere in a corner of the room, picke d two up, the weight of which she could definitely carry, though they were on the heavier side, and then she stalled some dummies in a neat circle, standing right in the middle of it all. The girl looked up quickly, and began. 

Almost twirling around, she chopped off the heads of the dummies in a quick, orchestrated movement.

She had never done this at home, and though Ceres had done some practise the past few days, it also surprised her how well she got this done. 

Having a considerable amount of time left, Ceres slashed off parts of the bodies, no, dummies it was, showing off everything she had in her.

Suddenly however, she noticed the gamemakers, and that they seemed to be begging for more.

But she couldn’t, she couldn’t give them more when she was so exhausted, when the heat was getting to her. 

Unless… Unless she made this into a show, throwing in an unexpected twist. She had to entertain them, appeal to them, or she would long be forgotten.

For a moment, she considered stripping, but she didn’t want that type of attention at all. Ceres was not as desperate to completely sell her body, even if that meant more recognition. 

Her hair then, the long-ish strands that had been bothering ever since the summer began. It only got in the way all the time, and reminded her too much of everything she had already lost.

If she wanted to create a new image for herself, for sponsors, she would have to lose it too.

Without further hesitation, Ceres grabbed her sickle again, and untied her hair. She didn’t even think further about how much she wanted to cut, but just rested the blade close to her chin, slicing through the strands as though they were sheaves of grain.

The locks fell down in a neat, dark brown circle on the ground, and some of the gamemakers applauded as she waved to them, leaving the room without saying another word.

—---------------------

As Ceres arrived back into the apartment, Aria, her escort, immediately ran up to her.

‘What in Snow’s sake did you do to your hair?’, she asked.

Ceres just rolled her eyes at that. Was it really such a big deal?  Surely the scores must be more important.

Harvest stylist, even though Ceres didn’t know why the fuck he was actually so involved with this, was even more in shock, directing several insults to her, and so was her prep team.

‘Leave Ceres alone, please,’ Sylva interrupted, ‘She just finished her training session, and you are all bothered by a haircut?’

Harvest stylist still argued; ‘I’m responsible for her interview outfit, and now she’s ruined all my plans for that?’ 

‘God, but I can’t with you Capitol people and your superficiality!’ Sylva yelled, finally taking Ceres to her own room again.

‘Did your training session go well?’ She kindly asked.

Ceres sat down, relieved that her mentor actually did think she was more than just an image.

‘I think it did. I guess some of the gamemakers were quite impressed,’ 

‘Good,’ Sylva responded, ‘You must be exhausted now, why don’t you take some rest before they will announce the scores? I’ll handle your stupid prep team,’

She sighted, ‘Why do they go absolutely mental over your new look like that?, It doesn't look bad at all!’

‘It's not a big deal, yeah,’ Ceres replied, ‘I’ll handle them myself, tomorrow,’ 

-----------------------------

Sylva left the room, and that was Ceres’ que to walk towards the bathroom, and collapse on the floor.

Despite what she had shown, she was actually so tired, tired of all the expectations everyone seemed to have of her.

She cried, hiding her face from any possible cameras. Took a shower, massaged her short hair with the shampoo. The water dropping down hid all sights of emotion, and after a while, she even started to hum. What song exactly, she didn’t know, but it was enough for her to come to herself again. 

Her hair was still long enough to be tied back, so she grabbed a hair tie and, looking at herself in the mirror, pulled the dried strands away from her face.

In the mirror, she saw her mother’s piercing eyes again, and surprisingly, Ceres started to laugh. She had destroyed everything that made her her mother’s daughter, and was finally satisfied.

Her mother had no control over her now, couldn’t hit her ever again, couldn’t yell at her for hours. She was safe from her, had been for almost a week, but now it finally felt like she was out of her mother’s controlling grasp.

She got dressed in a neat, yellow dress, the colours reminding her of the life she could’ve had, the endless sunflower fields she could’ve danced in with her children. It would be a safe haven, but would it ever come true? Ceres didn’t know.

—---------------------

Eventually, Veles called Ceres to the living room to wait for the scores with the rest. Ceres pretended to be happy to join them, knowing that there was a sheer possibility that her reaction would be televised as well.

He tried to tell her and Harvest that scores held little reference in the end, that they would only attract a few more sponsors, and Sylva added that Haymitch Abernathy, district 12’s only living victor, had only scored a ‘1’ when he won. 

‘How?’ Ceres asked, but her mentor shrugged.

‘ I wouldn’t have a clue to be honest. He was a clever dude, a rascal. Must’ve gotten a few tricks up his sleeves,’ 

‘And what did you score then?’ Ceres wondered, hoping that the average score district 9 got wasn’t that low.

‘We both scored an 8, didn’t we?’ Veles replied. Sylva nodded, and turned away to switch on the television.

Caesar Flickerman was already on, talking with the head gamemaker. Ceres listened closely to what he had to say, hoping that there would be some hidden messages about the arena in his words. 

‘I’m very pleased with this year’s cast of tributes, they’ll make for an interesting game,’ He concluded.

‘Thank you Mr. Christus, now onto the scores!’ Flickerman replied.

‘He's called ‘Christus’, that's what my granny always used to say when she got angry,’ Sylva giggled, but Ceres could only think about the way his eyes were so eerily familiar.

Flickerman was joined by Claudius Templesmith, a man who was just as enthusiastic as him.

They started off with district 1, who had both gotten high scores; a 9 for the boy and a 10 for the girl, and continued with good scores for district 2 and 4. 3 was rather disappointing, and so were most of the other scores that followed after 4 girl's 8. 

As Cotty’s 4 flashed by, Ceres redirected her focus to the screen even more, ignoring Harvest’s sobs as he got awarded a 3.

She heard Sylva silently comfort him, before she got aware of her own name getting called.

‘From district 9, Ceres Grist, with a score of 9!’ 

xanthic; yellowish

Chapter Text

‘A 9?’ Ceres repeated, barely being able to believe it.

So all the effort she had put in, had actually paid off after all? She almost lost herself, cheering in excitement, until she realised that she felt sorry for Harvest, who, on the other hand, had just scored a 3.

S o instead, she kept the happiness to herself, though Sylva nodded at her.

‘Good job,’ She spoke, and a slight smile formed on her face. 

Ceres was proud of what she had achieved, but the conscious part of her brain realised that because her score was definitely one of the higher ones, the target on her back could do nothing but grow. She had never been much into keeping a low profile, rather wanted to die with her nose pointed up, but all the plans she had made to at least survive it until the final 8, had all shattered before her. 

‘Can I have a word with you after dinner?’ The girl asked her mentor, who must’ve felt something felt off for her.

‘Of course, but you should focus on the scores now,’ Sylva replied, a warm tone in her voice.

Thus, Ceres pointed her head towards the screen again, where she almost missed Bovis getting awarded with an 8 next to his name. Silently, she cheered for him, knowing that receiving sponsors would be much easier now.

But it felt double, too. The careers must’ve sensed the two were allying from the beginning, and, aside from the them, Ceres and Bovis were the strongest alliance according to their scores.

But, as Veles had said, scores could only say so much. Maybe the victor would be Hazel from district 11, the girl who had gotten even lower than Ceres’ district partner. Maybe she, or Harvest himself for that sake, could lay low and attack the others when it was least expected.

Sooner or later that strategy would lead to success, Ceres thought. But not for her. She had to perform, to be the one most desired by the Capitol, to go out with a ‘bang’.

Seia had been into astronomy, before she had dissolved into stardust herself. Before the games took her life, and for that sake, a part of Ceres’ too.

Well, she had told her friends about supernovae; when a star was on the verge of dying, it would create an enormous explosion of light and energy, one last goodbye.

Ceres had never intended to just simply die, just take her own life like it was nothing, that was not worth it. Not for her. She wanted people who cared, who were actually invested in her. Ceres didn’t want to be a nobody, to be forgotten as soon as the seeds were sown into the land.

A supernova, that was what she needed to be.

—--------------------------

As the girl went into her own room, Sylva joined her, sitting next to her on the small couch in the room.

Ceres shuffled a bit, not knowing how to best bring up the previous conversation.

That was where Sylva came in, directly asking if her mentee was actually feeling ‘okay’. Ceres wasn’t, and she had to admit that. 

‘I’m just… worried. I’ve planned this thing all around, and now I fear I might be targeted more, during the bloodbath. And Bovis… I don’t know how well I can protect him, he deserves to win!’ She cried.

‘You’ll be grand, Ceres,’ Sylva reassured her, patting her hair,

‘Rumour has it that the career alliance isn’t particularly stable this year. They’ll be more focused on themselves than anything else,’

Ceres nodded. After all, her mentor had been able to win these games before, and she had gotten someone else out as well. Her advice must've been of some value at least 

Still, the girl was unsure about the way Orinoco, or any of the others, would behave, so she just muttered;

‘I hope you’re right,’ and regained herself.

‘Ceres, you’re stronger than you think, you’re going to make it out,’

Sylva reassured her, which made Ceres tear up a bit. She knew she was strong, physically at least, but she also recognised she didn’t have it in her to really win the games.

‘I will try my best,’ Ceres said.

‘I just want to be remembered,’ she continued, wording her deepest desire.

‘We won’t forget you, no matter what happens in the arena,’ Sylva responded.

‘Me and Veles, we are so incredibly proud of you, please remember that,’

Ceres wept, but she let herself be comforted by her mentor this time. She could trust her. She could let her weakness show.

Sylva would not look down on her the way her own mother did, Ceres knew that.

Veles walked in after a while, holding a large package in his hands. Ceres sat up straight, noticing that the object was wrapped in some kind of coloured paper, decorated with ribbons, and a tag with her name on it. A present.

And it wasn’t even her birthday, that would be on the 30th of August, a date which seemed unreachable. Hell, if she would make it to that day, she would have to win, but that wasn’t on the cards.

‘I don’t understand,’ Ceres spoke, ‘Why would you give me this? You did the same thing for Harvest, right?’

Veles nodded, opening his mouth to speak, ‘Of course I did, I just want to make both of you feel at ease for tomorrow, and the day after that. You’ve both already experienced so much pressure, and I just…’

The man trailed off, looking in Sylva’s direction to find the words he needed.

Almost immediately, the woman joined in, ‘We wanted to give you a safe place for now, even if everything goes south soon, and we thought this would help,’

She said, as Ceres started unwrapping the gift, revealing a beautiful guitar. 

The initials ‘F.S.’ were carved into it, indicating that it had previously belonged to someone else, but the girl didn’t care.

Instead, Ceres looked at the instrument in awe, imagining her fingers playing the notes of the song that had always haunted her back in district 9, the place she called home.

It reminded her of the times the three of them; she, Seia and Saturn, were still together, joking around in the endless fields of barley. Before Seia’s death, before the bloodshed of the hunger games left a mark on them so permanent.

Because now, the girl still lingered around, mixing Ceres’ dreams and nightmares into an endless stream of painful memories. 

…You used to captivate me by your resonating light

Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind

Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams

Your voice it chased away all the sanity in me…

The song had probably been around for centuries, but seemed so timeless at this particular moment.

Ceres found herself softly singing the words, her hands immediately picking up the chords she remembered. She wished the song was heavier, that she could bring out all her anger from within, but that didn’t suit the song at all. It was meant to evoke emotions, and for her, it was a death’s lament too. The song was beautiful.

Still, the girl knew she couldn’t play it during her interview, it was too personal. Vulnerability was the last thing she wanted to show on live television. 

—----------------------

When it became morning again, Ceres had barely gotten the opportunity to sleep.

Instead, she had spent her night attempting to master her songs on the guitar. Of course, she had been no stranger to playing the instrument, but the one she had at home had been rotting away for decades.

It was soothing, getting to play without a mother yelling that she was too loud, or that her life was just a waste of resources.

After a while, Harvest had walked in, in awe by the music coming from the room.

‘Are you going to play this on stage?’ He had asked, but the girl had shook her head.

‘It’s too scary. If I want to, it has to be perfect. But it’s not. I’ll stick with my words, that’s safer,’

She had said, knowing that then, she could at least predict the reaction of the audience to what she would say. 

‘Veles has given me a violin, do you think it’s a good idea to show that?’ Ceres had nodded immediately.

Realistically, he would be better off with that than with another sob story.

‘Can you play?’

Harvest’s mouth had curled into a smile, for the first time since Ceres had met him.

‘My dad taught me,’ He had spoken, smiling as the memories probably brought him back there.

Ceres had been jealous of him, the fact that he had a family that cared about him, but she couldn’t let that show. Instead, she had prompted him to play, to make him happier, at last. And maybe the music would her comfort too.

Ceres thought back to that moment, and she dreaded having to say goodbye to her district partner even more.

Sure, they hadn’t been best friends, but she felt bad for him. Something from within had driven her to try and protect him, and even though he had refused an alliance, that sudden instinct still remained.

Was it bad to care this much? Or was it human?

—--------------------------

Later that day, after Ceres had her breakfast, Sylva and Veles sat their tributes down for the interview preparations. Their escort, Aria, was there too, but she was of little help. It was her first year after all. 

Veles explained different angles for their interviews, and his partner assisted.

‘...Usually, people talk about their families, or their life at home,’ Sylva said. 

‘I’m not doing that!’ The words escaped Ceres mouth,

‘I don’t want to be seen as some poster child of abuse,’

Her mentor nodded, ‘I understand, you could talk about other things, empathise your qualities…’

‘I want to be more appealing to the Capitol-,’

Ceres interrupted, knowing that that is what Saturn had been doing for years. He was famous, rich, everything she needed to be to win the hunger games. She would be recognized. Remembered. It was all she wanted.

‘No you don't!’ Sylva immediately yelled.

‘But what about the sponsors? In order to survive I rely on them!,’ Ceres protested.

All the plans she had made with Saturn, all the promises, it would have no use now. If she wasn’t well-liked, if she wasn’t appealing , nobody would bet on her to survive. Hell, she would be forgotten, just like every other district 9 girl before her. An empty silhouette in an endless parade.

‘Listen, the word 'appealing' has a whole different meaning here in the Capitol. Some people here… they think you have to pay them back for their good deeds, the fact that they sponsored you, if you win,’ Sylva explained.

‘But how can I pay them back? I’m a property of the Capitol now, all of the income I had, has been taken. And what exactly does this have to do with anything?’ Ceres questioned.

‘These people, they want you. Your body to be precise. If you're deemed 'attractive enough' they will think you belong to them…’

Ceres' lips formed an 'o' as the realisation kicked in.

With a slightly more hopeful tone, Sylva continued; ‘But there are different sponsors as well, good ones, who do everything out of just charity. We will look out for the both of you, trust me,’ 

‘Did it happen to you too?’ Ceres asked.

Her mentor’s eyes saddened even more, as if a bad memory had just returned to her.

‘ Once or twice, but some people had it worse,’ she said, and with her tone she clarified that she wouldn't elaborate.

Instead, she held Veles’ hand tightly, and with a nod from Sylva, the man moved on; 

‘So, just to be clear, what are your plans for the interviews?’ Veles asked the tributes.

‘I’m playing my violin,’ Harvest shyly answered.

‘So no talking,’ His mentor wanted to confirm.

The boy nodded. It was easier for him. Harvest didn’t have a reputation to uphold, a score so high it was a burden.

Ceres on the other hand, had everything to lose. 

Eventually, she remembered Saturn, and the way he had taught her to make her story relatable.

‘Teenage love,’ Ceres remarked.

Veles looked at her, confused.

‘There’s this boy, his name is Saturn, and well, he’s attractive, smart, kind, everything a girl could ever want, right?’

Sylva stared at her, still not fully convinced.

‘Do you love him?’

‘Enough to make it believable,’ Ceres replied, ‘It’ll fit right into the image I want them to view of me; I’m a hard worker, loyal to the Capitol, and I love a boy who fits their standards,’

She desperately continued; ‘I’ve always wanted to be here, it’s the glory that I need to achieve, the recognition!’ 

‘You bring it well, I have to admit,’ Sylva remarked, ‘But it’s a risky angle if you’re not a career. It has to be convincing, otherwise even a sob-story will draw in more sponsors,’

Ceres nodded. She had expected that already. 

‘Saturn,’ Aria suddenly interrupted, ‘I swear I recognise that name from something… Wasn’t he on some ‘Mister Panem’ pageant?’

Ceres confirmed that, saying that that was indeed him, and she smiled. If her escort knew about Saturn, others would know too, likely. Thus, she could get more sponsors by just bringing him up. If everything worked out, Ceres would be adored, and that was all she wanted.

—-----------------------------

After lunch, Aria handed Ceres a pair of high heels, as well as a long dress. As the mentors and Harvest watched, the escort began to fire a set of questions to the girl. She answered them just as rapidly, making Aria glow of excitement.

‘What are your motivations?’

‘Bringing back the glory to my district, and avenging all of them fallen before me,’ The girl concluded after the 20th question.

Applause followed, as Ceres’ intonation was just alright, and she seemed to be convincing. 

‘Now Ceres,’ Aria began, impersonating Caesar Flickerman himself, ‘I’ve heard that Seia Haberkorn, who participated in the 65th hunger games, was a friend of yours. How did you react to her death?’

Ceres sat in silence, not knowing what to say. The memories that came dwelling above the surface were painful, and she didn’t want to bring it all up again. 

‘Are they… are they really going to ask that question? How do they know?’ Ceres stuttered.

‘The Capitol knows everything,’ Sylva mumbled, ‘They’ve got detailed records for every single one of their tributes, and God knows what else they track. If they can spin a story out of something, they will. Prepare yourself for the worst,’

Ceres nodded, fighting her tears.

‘Always the pessimist, right Sylvie?’

Veles commented, and the two victors stared at each other for a while, almost erupting in laughter, which seemed inappropriate for the moment. There seemed to be some inside ‘joke’ that Ceres couldn’t understand. Or maybe they were drunk. Yeah, they were definitely drunk.

‘Realist, actually,’ Sylva stated, looking Veles deep into the eyes.

She redirected her attention to her mentee; ‘But don’t worry, it will be alright. You just need to practise with the hard questions,’ 

‘Okay, let’s just move on,’ Aria spoke, ending the awkward situation.

‘Ceres, you can walk on heels perfectly fine, but keep track of your posture. You need to stand tall and proud, as if the world is beneath you,’

That was easier, as the girl wanted to be seen. 

—--------------------

In the evening, Ceres sat besides the television in her room, her hand holding a tight grip on the remote control.

She had asked to borrow the tape of the 65th hunger games, to be faced with her best friend’s death for one more time. If the memory was still fresh, she figured that the questions would be easier to answer as well.

E ventually, she forced herself to click on the play button and sit back, though the fear sent shivers down her spine. 

The tape started with some cinematic views of the district 4 sea, and, after sheer seconds, a close up of Finnick Odair’s golden body. Nonchalantly, he moved his hands through his bronze curls, and raised his hand up to volunteer.

More similar angles of the boy followed, and Ceres felt bad for him. He was just 14 years old at the time, and the Capitol was already treating him like some priced doll. 

Contrary to Carter, also quite a young victor, his story seemed to be focused on his, in the words of the Capitol citizens,

‘Captivating looks’.

The cut of his games paid little attention to all the other tributes, but when it did, they were shown in their most unappealing angles, so that Finnick stood out even more. 

But then Seia appeared on the screen, wearing a long, amaranth coloured dress. Her hair was put into the long, double braids that the girl had always worn.

It was as if she could just step out of the screen, telling her that she was still here, that everything was fine.

But it wasn’t, she was long dead. Tears fell down Ceres’ face. She hadn’t been able to rewatch the games, had stuffed every last memory of them far away, but now she forced herself to look.

‘Oh Seia…’ She whispered, ‘I miss you so much,’ 

Footage of the games flashed by, mainly focusing on Finnick, once again.

It was as if only the victor mattered. The rest just disappeared into an endless grey void. Long forgotten. Maybe Ceres should win then, if she really wanted to be seen. 

The arena that year had been filled with water, a sea full of small islands, all having their own danger on them. The scarce vegetation reminded Ceres of a jungle, and Finnick seemed to find his place into it perfectly well.

Together with the other careers, he used the cornucopia as their base, and though the others wouldn’t allow him out hunting, ‘Too young and inexperienced,’ someone had stated, he still brought in the most sponsors.

They took all of it for granted, but little did they know that he was making up a plan on his own. 

Suddenly, the camera angle shifted to an island far from the center.

Seia had managed to swim there, using the little experience she had from growing up near the river. The girl on the screen was scavenging for food, or literally anything. She didn’t have a weapon, or anything else to defend herself with.

When she shook one of the trees around with her thin arms, Ceres wanted to scream at the girl on the screen to stop.

She knew what was bound to happen now, but there was nothing she could do. 

A monkey jumped down from the tree, attacking the fragile 15-year-old. She was defenceless, attempting to push the animal away with bare hands.

‘Ceres!’ Seia had screamed,

‘Help me!’

And Ceres remembered how, at school, she almost ran out of the classroom, desperately wanting to do something. But she was still in district 9 at the time, and her friend was in the arena, all alone.

There was nothing she could do.

More monkeys came, tearing Seia’s face apart with their sharp nails, and then focused on her pale neck, which they bit through with their pointy teeth.

Ceres didn’t know why her entire death was shown, but figured it was probably due to the intensity of it all.

And so Seia’s cannon sounded, as the unrecognisable, torn apart girl bled out on the sand. 

Ceres turned the screen off, covering her face with her hands.

She had seen enough, enough to know that the question Caesar would probably ask would cause nothing but discomfort. 

After watching, the girl immediately went to her mentor, begging for help with the probable answer to the question.

‘I think Veles might assist you better, he was her mentor after all,’

Luckily, Veles sat close by, absent-mindedly twirling a dried flower between his fingers.

He sat up straight as he heard Ceres approaching, regaining his focus.

‘What do you want to know?’ He gently asked.

‘You mentored my best friend,’ Ceres spoke, ‘How can I approach the subject the best in my interview?’ 

‘I’ve been wanting to say this before, but I didn’t know how to bring it up,’ Veles answered,

‘I'm sorry for your loss, I really am. It was a hard year to watch, and Seia… Well, she was full of life, and then her death was absolutely gruesome. She didn’t deserve that, that’s all I can say,’

Now, Veles seemed to be crying too, but he still attempted to stay strong.

‘How can I… How can I approach it best?’ Ceres repeated, her voice unsteady, ‘Her last words were my name, should I be wanting to avenge her?’

Carefully, Veles nodded.

‘That could work, I guess, but is that what you want?’

The girl thought for a moment, and realised that revenge might be the option. But who should she want to avenge? The Capitol? Because they were the ones that were responsible for her death. But that would mean signing the warrant to an awful death caused by the gamemakers. 

‘I just want to make her proud, and maybe fulfil her wishes in her place,’

Ceres eventually stated.

‘She wanted to live, at last. Tell the Capitol that you want that too, no matter how close it is to the truth,’

Veles replied, and though Ceres was still unsure whether she wanted to survive at all, she ultimately agreed.

—----------------

The next day, Ceres was brought to the remake center as soon as she had woken up, and though Sylva had handed her a quick cup of coffee, the sleepless nights had caught up to the girl already, and she was almost too tired to move.

Luckily, some medication did wonders for her condition, and she felt as if she was reborn by the time she sat on the chair. 

Of course, the prep team was making remarks about her looks once again, complaining about the way her hair had been cut unevenly, though Ceres argued it didn’t look that bad at all.

But most of the bruises on her body had faded, and there weren’t any comments about it, so she was grateful for that. 

The process was also quicker than last time, with the team only having to do minor adjustments, like painting Ceres’ nails or styling her hair, and before she knew it, Iris walked in again.

Her stylist was holding a garment bag in her hands, and her face was regretful.

‘I’m sorry,’ She whispered.

‘What for?’ Ceres replied.

Then, Iris revealed the outfit...

Ceres was disappointed by the fact that it seemed to cover barely anything, and she recalled Sylva with her story about ‘people wanting to buy you for your looks’.

‘You designed this?’ The girl angrily pointed at the dress.

‘I did not. Kronion, Harvest’s stylist, did. I had no say in this whatsoever, I’m so sorry,’

Iris defended, and the tone in her voice suggested that she was telling the truth.

‘But can’t you change it? We still have some time left,’ Ceres desperately begged.

Iris shook her head; ‘Unfortunately, some people from above prevent me from doing that. I can make minor adjustments to help you feel more comfortable though,’

The girl nodded.

‘Can you just, you know, find something to cover my legs a bit? I’m fine with the top, but the bottom is just way too inappropriate,’ 

For a few minutes, Iris searched a cabinet of clothes that stood in the corner of the room, until she found a long, black skirt.

‘Perfect!’ Ceres remarked.

Once again, Iris turned around as the girl put her dress on, and after Ceres had finished, she revealed the mirror behind the curtain. 

It was a long, black dress, which covered Ceres’ chest and arms in black, embroidered roses, while leaving most of her skin exposed. Her neck was covered in chains of thorns, and a crown was put on her head, as if she was the victor already.

She was given the same earrings she had worn during the reaping, though Iris told her that she could only keep the bottom ones tomorrow.

Ceres’ hair was curled, the waves brushing her chin.

She liked it, and with her dark eyeshadow and blood-red lips, she felt like Death themself.

A self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps.

—---------------

The first interview was that of Stella, who had surprisingly not gone for the regular angle of a flirtatious district 1 female.

Instead, she spent the time bragging about her skills with a sword, saying that she was ‘simply the best’. She twirled around on the stage, entertaining the audience with her serious viciousness.

Ceres rolled her eyes. How high and mighty would she still be after 2 weeks of malnourishment?

‘Last year’s victor was an embarrassment to our district,’

Stella pleaded, with the camera now focusing on Bella Zircon, who just sat there in silence, embarrassed by her mentee’s comment. ‘

I mean, she was a poor, ugly miner’s daughter. Barely better than a 12,’

At that comment, the 12’s were seen frantically looking around. Caesar had tried to calm Stella down a bit, telling her that there was no need to drag a victor’s name like that, but she didn’t listen. 

Next, Stella’s district partner Suede approached the stage, and though he joked around a bit, his interview was boring.

Ceres almost fell asleep when he told a story about his youth and how he had always wanted to volunteer. The same old narrative as many before him, and anyone could see it wasn’t enough to secure a victory, or even a place in someone's heart.

‘I don’t trust big alliances, in the end. I’m faithful to my district only, and I’ll do anything to make them proud, thank you,’

Aemelia said, an unusual statement for someone from district 2, who would at least mention their entire alliance in most of their interviews, bragging about how strong every single one of them was.

Ceres noticed that others saw it too; Orinoco tightened his jaw, and his district partner pointed an imaginary knife towards Aemelia’s back.

Ceres just laughed, knowing that now, the careers would be more focused on themselves than anyone else. So she could focus on her own narrative now, feeling more self-assured than ever.

Aemelia’s district partner followed with a story about how he was planning on volunteering, but his name got drawn instead.

‘’I’m already going in,’ I thought to myself, so why would raising my hand to volunteer change anything!’

He remarked, but his words were unconvincing to Ceres, and possibly to a large part of the audience.

She knew he didn’t want to be here, but the loyalty of his district to the Capitol had cursed him. Lucius was from district 2, he was supposed to be strong, proud, not the almost snivelling boy on the stage.

If Lucius were from district 3, or 8 or anything other than a career district, his weakness would be seen as ‘normal’, justifiable, but now, he would be dead in the eyes of his district. He represented none of their values, and Ceres could do nothing but feel bad for him. 

When Rusalka followed after a set of boring interviews from the 3’s, she tried everything in her power to prevent the alliance from breaking.

When Caesar asked what she thought about Aemelia’s devotion to her district, she pointed out that numbers were a key factor in victory, and that whatever would happen, trusting only your district would put you in a minority. With her mermaid-like, sexy dress, she managed to further captivate the audience. Everything she lacked in strength and height, she hoped her smarts and looks would make up for.

Next, Orinoco stormed on stage, his chin raised higher than Ceres thought was biologically possible. His replies lacked depth, and Ceres repeated to herself that she should not make the same fatal mistake.

‘I’m the strongest tribute this year!’ He shouted, ‘No one will stand in my way, I’m sure of it,’

Once again, Ceres rolled her eyes. He was not the smartest, that was evident. Even she knew about her weaknesses, but he just pretended that he didn’t have any of his own.

Ceres saw Sylva in the crowd, dressed in a yellow suit that reminded the girl of the sunflower fields back home. District 9’s colour.

‘What can I do?’ Ceres wondered.

‘Just try to be yourself, Ceres, that’s your safest bet,’ Sylva mouthed.

The girl nodded, directing her attention to the tribute in front of her.

On the stage now was the girl from district 5, Solaire, who kept whining about getting reaped, despite her mother being the mayor.

She wasn’t well-liked, and the boy from 6, Titus, wasn’t either. He kept silent for almost the entire interview, only speaking in 1-word answers.

He would probably die in the bloodbath, judging by the panicked state he was in.

Ivy from 7 on the other hand, stayed as confident as she could, saying that she just wanted to make her father proud.

Several close-up shots of the victor were shown, while the man tried to fend himself away from all the attention. His reddish hair was messy, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.

‘Arbores Ponderosa, the lone wolf,’ Caesar remarked.

‘Ivy, you must be proud to continue your father’s legacy!’

‘Of course I am,’ The girl lied, ‘What else could I be?’ 

—------------------

After a couple other interviews, all of which seemed forgettable to her, Ceres was called onto the stage.

She immediately set her eyes on the audience, because her main intention was to entertain them. As she sat on the chair, the girl forced herself to smile, hoping that it came off as believable. 

‘Now Ceres,’ Caesar began, ‘How are you finding the Capitol so far?’

An icebreaker, easy to answer.

‘I’m amazed. You know, I’ve always wanted to visit this place,’

That wasn’t a lie. She wanted to be in the games, but for different reasons than she revealed.

‘Actually, I planned on volunteering next year,’

The crowd cheered, this was unexpected for someone from the outer districts. Now, she had to use her words right, otherwise people would write her off as a suicidal nobody.

‘But then you got reaped,’ Caesar added, ‘What do you plan on achieving?’

Ceres had to improvise now, she had to give the audience something they could work with. Confidence. She was the best.

‘My friend Seia, she was in the games two years ago,’ She spoke, hoping to play into the cards of devoted hunger games fans,

‘I’ve been wanting to bring glory to my district for some time, because she wasn’t able to. We haven’t had a victor for 24 years, and I’m going to break the curse,’

The audience applauded her even more, and this was all she wanted to achieve.

‘Confidence,’ Caesar exaggerated, ‘We love that here!’

He pointed to her face now, changing the topic;

‘Ceres, on another note, do you have someone back home waiting for you?’

She let the effect of that question on the audience linger for a bit longer, before the girl eventually answered;

‘There’s this boy I like, actually. His name is Saturn, but I don’t think I can even compete with him. He’s a model, and I’m just an ordinary girl,’ 

‘Now people, I think we might know what boy has stolen Ceres’ heart, the one and only Saturn Levesque, Panem’s newest top model!’

Ceres confidently nodded as the audience erupted in excitement.

‘After I win, he can’t refuse me anymore, right?’

She questioned as she pushed her hair behind her ears, revealing her earrings. Ceres was the best, she really believed it at that moment, no matter how bad her dreams would be crushed tomorrow.

—--------------------

Ceres walked off the stage, and she could’ve sworn that she was the audience’s favourite. It was as if she had almost forgotten that the games were still on tomorrow, that because she might’ve convinced the crowd to root for her, it didn’t mean that the other tributes would actually spare her. 

The girl was confronted with reality once again, as Bovis made his way towards the middle of the podium.

‘Lover,’

He whispered, not directing his attention to Caesar, or even the audience, but to a person far away in district 10.

Alec, his boyfriend.

But even saying his name was too dangerous here.

‘Tomorrow I will probably do things I’ll regret, but please, please try not to resent me,' He begged

 ‘I just want to go home, to you. If I survive, I have one wish…’

He pulled out a ring from his pocket,

‘Will you marry me?’

Ceres wanted nothing but to die, to let him survive instead. He deserved it more…

indelible; not able to be forgotten

Chapter Text

After all the interviews had concluded, Ceres knew that now that all the excitement of the interviews was over, the real games would begin.

Tonight, the betting would reach a new high; every Capitol citizen, and even some people from the district, would want to throw in some money to have a last shot at winning something themselves.

Soon, she would find out if her efforts had paid off, if she was likeable enough according to the Capitol. If she was the one most deserving a victory.

Well, Ceres could answer that question herself easily; not in a million years.

People like Bovis, with his marriage proposal and hopes for the future, should be the real winners. But sadly that was not how the hunger games actually worked.

Tomorrow, Ceres would be thrown into an unknown arena, with 23 others who were all out for that particular crown.

There would be fighting, she was sure of it, and there was a big chance that she could lose her life before the real games had even begun. 

Ceres didn’t know Orinoco well, but surely he would keep his word. She had been stupid enough to fight him, and though she defeated him the last time, that likely wouldn’t happen again. Especially not if he was armed.

And then there was Harvest, who would be nothing but a victim of the situation, knowing that he didn’t have it in him to even attempt to fight. 

She was a dead girl walking herself as well, and though so many people had faith in her, Ceres knew that she had a snowball’s chance in hell of actually fulfilling their hopes. ‘

Goodbye district 9!’ She recalled someone saying in a hunger games long ago, as some tribute forced her axe onto someone's body. 

Supernova, think about the supernova,

Ceres thought to herself as she walked off the stage after Caesar had given his final speech.

You want to be remembered, so make sure of it.

Somewhere far away, in a place where the stars were not polluted by the constant rays of artificial light, a sun held their last breath, shining brighter than ever before, just to explode into nothing but emptiness.

A black hole.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

Backstage, Ceres got rid of her high heels, fearing damage to her body if she would fall. She was tired, but the excitement for the games tomorrow made her unable to sleep.

Like a zombie, the girl dragged herself to the elevator, and pushed the button to the ninth floor, for one last time.

She was not alone, Bovis joined her as well, which opened the possibility of talking their tactic through once more.

‘I’ll grab the supplies, you’ll wait somewhere close to the cornucopia,’ Ceres said, and Bovis nodded at her answer.

‘But if you get yourself killed, then what?,’ He still asked,

‘I won’t be able to make it far without protection,’

Ceres rolled her eyes; ‘I’m not stupid, I will make it,’

‘You better do,’ Bovis answered, teary eyed,

‘I don’t know if I can handle it without you,’ 

‘Look,’ The girl tried to comfort him,

‘I know what I’m doing, you really don’t have to worry about me. If… if the unthinkable happens tomorrow, then please have faith in yourself. You’re strong enough to make it, you should know that,’ She said, finding herself spreading Sylva’s message for her to him instead.

Bovis had to win, that was the only respectable outcome of the games to Ceres.

But for her plan to work, she had to convince everyone that she was full of life, that victory was the only desired destination for her.

She wasn’t able to say more, as the elevator reached the ninth floor and she was forced to walk out.

‘Congratulations!,’ Aria screamed, her face glowing of excitement,

‘You’ve moved up in the odds!’

Ceres was surprised, not knowing that her interview apparently did make an impact.

‘How do you know?,’ She asked, presuming that the odds were not meant to be available for anyone directly involved with the games. 

‘Well,’ Aria answered,

‘My friend Gladiola just called me, and well, she’s rooting for you, she saw your interview on the screen and-,’

‘Get to your point,’ Ceres cut in, coming off as ruder than she had expected,

‘Anyhow, Gladiola went to place a bet on you, and she noticed your position has shifted from the 7th to the 6th place!’

The girl was satisfied with that, though she wondered how her odds had become that high in the first place. District 9 hadn’t had a victor for an awful lot of time, and usually that meant lower chances of winning.

‘You’ve got yourself some sponsors too; all my friends want to meet you after you win!’ 

Ceres was surprised by the way her escort was so disconnected from the true nature of these games, treating them as an exciting event solely meant for building up her reputation.

For the districts, the hunger games were so much more than that; they tormented the lives of their citizens every day, and escaping them was impossible.

The girl envied Aria, for the way she could live her life in such a light-hearted way, hopping from party to party, as if tomorrow didn’t exist. She wanted to be that carefree too, enjoy every little moment in her colourful life, but that wasn’t possible.

Ceres saw Sylva and Veles sitting on the couch together, nursing their champagne, and she approached them.

She was reluctant to talk at first, knowing that the two victors were engaged in a deep conversation, looking into each other's eyes. 

Eventually, Sylva noticed that the girl was staring at them, and she turned around to face her;

‘You did such a good job with the interview!’ She told Ceres,

‘Once again, I want to tell you that you’re going to be fine tomorrow, just try to get some sleep okay?’

The mentor continued, putting her hand on Ceres’ shoulder,

‘I will, don’t worry,’

The girl answered, though getting some sleep was hardly on the cards for her, knowing that she would probably waste her last hours drowning in her worries.

She just had to make it to the final eight, and Saturn just had to talk to the interviewers, and then everything would be fine, then she could finally rest.

—----------------------------

Later that evening, Ceres attempted to catch some sleep, but she remained restless.

The girl kept pacing around in her room, attempting to turn the television on to recap everything once more. But the power was cut off, a measure to prevent tributes from having an unwanted advantage.

Eventually, she gave up and turned on the shower, the boiling hot water streaming over her body. It was pleasant to have that luxury, she decided, though she knew that tomorrow she would have to work with whatever the arena provided, which could be next to nothing, if she thought back on last year’s desert. 

When Ceres had finished showering, and put on her nightwear, she opened her door to walk into the hallway, as she faintly noticed some voices. She had nothing else to do, so she came closer to listen to what they were saying. Maybe it would be off some help, some secret advice about the arena for example.

‘I can't do this anymore…,’ Ceres heard a feminine voice say.

The person had a vague accent, not one from the Capitol - it was more nasal, and the words were pronounced differently- but Ceres was too sleep-deprived to tell who it was. She silently approached the open door leading to the living room, hiding against a wall to properly hear what she was saying. 

‘I know Sylvie…,’ Someone else sighted,

‘But we have to try,’

Suddenly, Ceres recognised his voice as Veles’, who was responding to his fellow victor.

‘We've tried for 23 years, and it never fucking works. Even my own daughter couldn't make it out, so why bother? We could just join Chaff and Haymitch at the bar tomorrow, that'll be much easier for the both of us,’ Sylva lamented.

‘I’m doing this for hope. I just want one family in district 9 to finally be able to celebrate something. To have one kid less brought back in a pine coffin,’Veles paused, ‘Did you see all those poor, starving kids everywhere in the district? It’s horrible, inhuman. Everyone is dying, Sylvie, I can’t stand it anymore!,’ 

With a more hopeful tone the man continued; ‘If we get her back, the district will get food parcels, and-,’

‘Her?!,’ Ceres heard Sylva cry,

‘So you've given up on your tribute?’

A silence followed, and Ceres didn’t know what to feel. She felt bad for Harvest, obviously,  but if she were only to follow her brain, she knew he wouldn't stand a chance at all.

Harvest was doomed, and he seemed to know that all too well. And through the eyes of the Capitol, one death more would increase Ceres’ odds severely.

No, Ceres shouldn’t think like that, she shouldn’t lower herself to their shallow logic, she was better than that.

‘I’m so sorry, but I don’t think Harvest is making it. He's been skipping all his meals and denying any advice from me, even though I've tried to tell him that'll lower his chances. The poor child,’

Veles voice became louder, and he almost screamed as he continued; ‘This is why we need a victor Sylva, this year! Everyone has lost hope now, and the district is withered from within!,’ 

‘But you remember what happens after victory, right? Do we really want anyone to go through all that again? The Capitol is out for fresh blood all the time, and this year won’t be an exception. I can’t condemn anyone to such a life. Especially not Ceres. Honestly, I don’t want her to end up as fucked up as I am,’ Ceres heard Sylva cry. 

The girl wanted to enter the room, to make her presence known, to say that she disagreed, that she wasn’t worth saving, but that wouldn't do any good.

‘ I’m already fucked up,’ Ceres whispered, and then decided that it would still be for the best to catch some sleep.

And it worked luckily; her mind shut itself off for just a few hours, and she was swallowed up in a dreamless sleep.

—---------------------------

The rays of sunlight falling through the thin curtains woke Ceres up, and the girl immediately let herself drop out of the bed.

Today, the hunger games would start, and she wondered if this sunrise would be her last.

The odds were quite in her favour, sure, but how much would numbers mean when she was faced with a brutal arena? 

Ceres put on the simple, white dress that hung on her closet, and quickly brushed through her hair. Her appearance wouldn’t matter much, knowing that Iris would wait for her in the launch room to hand her the arena wear.

Now she just had to wait to be taken away by the hovercraft, which wouldn’t take long anymore.

And so it happened; Sylva came to her room, telling her to get ready to depart to the roof.

One last goodbye was allowed, and her mentor took that opportunity as they stepped into the elevator.

‘Be careful Ceres, please. I don’t want to sound discouraging or anything, but don’t let confidence get the best of you, once again…’

Sylva said, and Ceres didn’t even have the urge to roll her eyes anymore. Something had changed, somewhere in her mind, that valued her own safety now. Maybe a small part of her even wanted to win. 

Her mentor was serious, thus Ceres paid close attention to what she was about to say; ‘Don’t take risks if you can’t afford them, please. If not for yourself, do it to protect others. You deserve a better life,’

Sylva sobbed, finally saying goodbye to her tribute, hugging her one last time, like a mourning mother.

‘Thanks mom,’ Ceres blurted out.

Sylva gasped and put her hands over her mouth, emotionalised by Ceres' words, and this was the tribute’s cue to make it to the hovercraft, waving goodbye for forever.

In the hovercraft, Iris awaited her, sadness in her eyes. Ceres was just another child in a long line of tributes that the stylist had to see dying at the hands of another, and powerless as she was, she didn’t say another word.

Instead Iris just put her hand on Ceres’ shoulder, attempting to comfort her as a Capitol assistent put a tracker in the girl’s bloodstream. 

‘What’s this?,’ Ceres asked out of curiosity,

‘Your tracker. This way the Capitol can see where you are, and what your vital statistics say,’

The girl nodded, closing her eyes while waiting for the time to pass.

For some reason, the flight to the arena seemed to take hours, and when the vehicle finally arrived at its destination, an underground platform which would lead to the launch room, the air seemed colder.

The temperature sent a chill down Ceres’ spine as she walked through a long hallway to the room she would depart from.

On the doors she occasionally passed, the numbers of the different districts were spray-painted. The paint looked fresh, as if the gamemakers had been in a hurry finishing them off, but it didn’t matter.

Arena’s weren’t intended for reuse anyways; Ceres would be the only tribute to ever use the launch room that was created for her, and after the games would be wrapped up, the area would be used as just another vacation site for Capitolites, who already bathed in luxury.

As Ceres sat down in a plastic camping chair that stood in the corner of the room in front of a mirror, attempting to eat something, Iris got started on her hair.

Yet again, the stylist remained silent, only saying that she was ‘sorry for what she would be going through’, 

When Iris was finished, she handed Ceres a smaller mirror, which allowed the girl to look at her reflection.

She was p aler than expected, which could be a sign of the fear she was going through, though maybe the dark circles under her eyes only exaggerated the contrast.

And her hair, that had been put up in twin tails, made her look younger than she actually was, something Ceres didn't like, though she preferred it over wearing her hair down for the sake of practicality. 

Only the few earrings the Capitol allowed her reminded Ceres of herself, and she was still glad to take that part of her with her to the end.

And when Iris handed the girl her sunflower necklace, the one she had baked with Sylva and Veles, on one of the training days, she almost teared up, knowing that despite how much she longed for a family like that, it would never happen. 

The arena uniform brought different surprises however, and judging from the thick coat and warm thermo clothes, Veles was right.

‘ This is definitely hinting towards a colder arena,’ Ceres recalled him saying, and while putting on a pair of gloves with a stuffing of fur, she noticed that it would probably be even colder than the already frigid winters back home. 

‘Good luck out there,’

Iris whispered as Ceres took place in the tube that would take her to the arena, and the girl turned her head to the stylist one more time, waving at her as the mechanic voice on the intercom told her that there would be 20 seconds left until she was definitely lifted up to her platform. 

‘10 seconds to launch,’

The girl recomposed herself, taking a deep breath. She couldn’t bear it to look back again now, and instead focused on standing still.

Ceres couldn’t afford it to trip over, especially not now. 

When the timer ran out, the platform slowly raised Ceres up, and it almost felt like the time was slowed down at that moment, and as she was consumed in a vacuum, the girl could hear nothing but her own rapid heartbeat. 

—----------------

Ceres was blinded by the sun the second her platform stopped going up, and this made her unable to see anything.

When she recomposed herself, there was still nothing but fields of white on the horizon, like a tundra of sorts.

The cold was unbearable at this point, though Ceres was supposed to be used to it.

The entire arena seemed unnatural, from the vibrant sun rays reflecting on the silver cornucopia, to the snowflakes that seemed too big and the red river that streamed from the top of the mountains. 

The girl looked around, and discovered her pedestal was next to Bovis’, and as they crossed each other’s eyes, Ceres pointed to the cornucopia, which carried countless supplies and weapons, and the boy nodded accordingly.

They were both relieved that the nearest career was still 3 pedestals away, and as the seconds passed by, Ceres wasn’t as stressed as she had expected, because she fully believed that everything would be alright.

40 seconds… - Ceres focused on the sickles that she saw laying against a crate, the blades gleaming in the sun, and she prepared herself to run towards them.

30 seconds…- The girl spotted Harvest, completely on the other side of the cornucopia. He seemed to be focused on getting a backpack for himself, though the girl from 4, who stood next him, was warning him with her eyes.

20 seconds… - The cold was still unpleasant, but Ceres forced herself to get used to it quickly.

She mentally prepared herself to not slip on the different texture of the snowy ground, seeing as if she fell down, getting up would be unrealistic.

10 seconds…- For a moment, Ceres considered blowing herself up, knowing that that would be the easiest way out of the bloodshed, but she couldn’t do that to the others.

If she wanted Bovis to win, traumatising him for life so early on was not the way.

The gong sounded, and Ceres ran towards the cornucopia, with big, self-assured steps, reminding herself not to fall.

—------------------------

As Ceres made her way to the weapon she longed for the most, her familiar sickle, she saw that the fighting around her had already started.

With approximately 30 seconds in, Cotty from 8 was already on the ground, Orinoco’s spear in her stomach. She wasn’t going to make it.

The other tributes were engaged in serious fights that Ceres attempted to avoid. 

Bovis was slower than she was, but he still managed to grab two backpacks and a machete, and hid behind a few rocks close to his pedestal.

Now, Ceres had to focus on getting the remaining supplies they needed, like something to keep them warm.

There; in the opening of the cornucopia, a sleeping bag.

After thinking for a few seconds, the girl decided she was going to risk it. Hypothermia would be worse than a knife buried in her heart. 

As she ran, narrowly avoiding the bodies of the dying tributes, it seemed like Lucius from 2 was going after her with his bow and arrow, but his movements were sluggish, as if his mind was in another place.

His district partner on the other hand, had just raised her axe to kill the girl from 3, which she eventually succeeded in, the blade opening the other tribute's skull.

But then, just as Ceres thought she wasn’t going to make it, with Lucius' arrow pointed to her head, the tributes from district 2 ran off to the mountains on the horizon, far away from the cornucopia, with the supplies they had gathered in their hands.

The remaining careers looked at each other in confusion as Ceres hid behind a crate.

‘What the hell?’ Someone shouted, and as chaos emerged, with all of them knowing that their alliance had just lost two of its members, the pair from 1 and Rusalka from 4 ran after the ‘traitors’, who were already nowhere to be seen.

Orinoco stayed behind however, though the careers prompted him to come along, and something about his gaze freaked Ceres out. He was clearly hunting for something, or rather, someone.

Just as the girl made eye-contact with Harvest, his tear-stained brown eyes appearing from somewhere within the cornucopia, she saw that that Orinoco seemed to notice him as well, launching his spear to aim for Harvest’s heart.

‘Ceres, run!’

He shouted to her as the spear reached his chest. The boy immediately dropped to the ground, the impact of the big wound not making him able to say anything else. 

Blood, there was blood everywhere, scattered around in the snow, and Ceres could see nothing but red.

She had to face Orinoco, as he now knew that she couldn’t be far.

Behind the rocks, Bovis was probably cursing her out for her stupidity, if he hadn't betrayed her already, saying that she should run, that taking the risk was worth nothing, but Ceres had to avenge her district partner.

‘District 9?!,’ Orinoco taunted,

‘Where are you? It’s time to finish you off!’

Ceres couldn’t hide anymore, that would be the move of a coward, and she didn’t want to be remembered for that.

Instead, the girl readied her weapon, silently walking towards her much larger opponent.

A sudden fear grew in her stomach, and she realised that she didn’t want this to be the end for her. She wanted to live, for the first time in years. 

—---------------------

As Ceres approached Orinoco, she wasn’t prepared for him to push her away, making her fall on the cold, snowy ground.

Now, the girl realised that he was preparing for this kill to be more dragged out, as this would likely be the last one of the bloodbath.

The two of them, they were maybe more alike than Ceres thought; with the both of them constantly performing for the sake of being seen, longing for fame, recognition, victory.

But only one could make it out, and now Orinoco seemed to have the upper hand.

‘I don’t want to die, please,’

Ceres begged with nothing but pure honesty, but Orinoco didn’t listen.

He raised his blooded spear high above her body, and while the girl held a tight grasp on her sickle, holding the weapon over her eyes to protect her face, it likely wouldn’t do anything.

‘You’re dead already,’ The boy mocked,

‘Goodbye district 9!’

Ceres gasped as he pulled the weapon closer. All her plans had failed, everything she had done to make it further, it was all gone.

Was this really how she would die, with so many dreams unfulfilled? Or was death all she ever wanted?

cornucopia; horn of plenty, a mythical horn able to provide whatever is desired.

Chapter Text

Suddenly, Orinoco dropped to the floor, and Ceres gasped, knowing that this was her chance to get away.

She didn’t know how the fall was caused, but she immediately stood up again, readying her weapon.

She pointed the sickle to the boy’s neck, and attempted to cut right through it. Luckily for her, the blade was sharp enough, and with the experience of cutting grain for years, the girl was no stranger to the weapon. 

Orinoco seemed as if he had been frozen by something, with a strange, red spot visible on the back of his head, and Ceres wanted to laugh at his stupidity; that he, as a career, now seemed foolish and weak, but she had to regain her focus.

This was her chance to survive, and she didn’t want to miss it. 

So, the girl pushed the sickle farther into his throat, trying to ignore the gurgling sounds that faintly escaped Orinoco’s mouth.

He wasn’t dead yet, but she had to hurry. If someone else came to finish her off, it would be the definite end for her. 

It was horrifying, and without a doubt the worst thing the girl had done in her life, and though the impact of her actions hadn’t crossed Ceres’ mind immediately, with her brain huddled in a protective blanket of numbness, it became more than clear what she had done when she removed her weapon from his body.

Holding onto Orinoco’s ponytail, the girl lifted up his head, which had now been separated from the rest of the body.

Yet again, Ceres gasped, dropping the boy’s head to the floor.

A cannon sounded, followed by many more that she couldn’t bring herself to count. 

There was blood everywhere. On her clothes, the crimson red liquid that was still warm. In her hair, that now clumped together in strands of blood and sweat. Her hands, that had been so carefully protected by Capitol-designed gloves, now showed only what Ceres had done.

Ceres' guilt, she displayed it so openly, and even a tear left the girl’s eye, though she had promised not to show affection. 

‘Ceres, we have to go now!’

B ovis forcefully pulled her out of her trance, grabbing her blood-stained hand to help her run away with him.

He was wearing two backpacks on his back, the thick fabrics dyed in vivid colours, and a clean machete hung on his belt.

‘Snap out of it!’

There was no time to wait around, they both knew that.

Sure, the cornucopia was empty now, only the bloodied bodies of the several casualties still lingering around on the floor, but it wouldn’t be for long until people would come back, and it was safer to disappear somewhere in the snowy mountains. 

The cold was unbearable, Ceres noticed as the adrenaline rush that had filled her just a few moments ago, giving her an undeniable desire to live, had began to die out.

There was nothing but the cold, bitter taste of regret left now, and as Bovis held her hand, preventing the two from slipping on the steep hills surrounding them, all she wished was for it to be over. For her to find a place to rest. Forever.

Eventually, somewhere behind the tall mountains, hidden away by spiky rocks and the scarce vegetation of pine trees, the two allies found shelter.

Immediately, Ceres started digging through their supplies, finding two sleeping bags, one of which she quickly gifted to Bovis.

‘Thank you,’

He responded, and seeing as he had almost been freezing already, he gladly took it from her hands. 

With the snow all around them, Ceres quickly rubbed her fingers on the cold ground, attempting to remove the blood from her gloves. It worked, but after a few minutes, her fingers felt numb.

She had to look for a heat source.

The backpacks gave them next to nothing to work with; filled only with two empty water bottles, a rope, some food, a small first aid kit, and an unfamiliar knife. 

‘Back home we use it for skinning an animal,’

Bovis broke the silence, still shivering from the cold, ‘But I don’t know what kind of creatures we’ve got here,’

He cried; ‘This is all just so unfamiliar for me, I just want to go home,’

Ceres put her hand on Bovis' shoulder, comforting the boy,

‘It’s okay, I can help, if we can just find a damn heat source…,’

She shrugged, unsure of what would happen soon,

‘There’s probably a few polar bears around here, so that’ll count as food and protection, if we manage to kill them,’

S he paused, noticing that Bovis was about to open up his jacket.

‘Don’t,’ Ceres insisted,

‘You may feel like you’re overheating soon, but that’s just your body generating heat from its last strength. And don’t even think about getting your clothes wet, in an attempt to cool down, that’s practically suicide,’ 

Suddenly, while the two tributes were still pacing around in an attempt to warm up, unsure what else to do, a parachute descended from the sky.

The loud beeping noise made it clear that it was not just another snowflake, just like all the others that had been falling down from the sky, but rather a gift from their mentors.

A symbol of hope, perhaps.

The metal box in which the sponsor gift was put in, a label with ‘courtesy of the Capitol’ attached to it, was heavier than Ceres had expected, and she presumed it must’ve cost enormous amounts of money, even on the first day of the games, when the gifts were still the cheapest.

The girl alerted Bovis before she decided to open the box, because she didn’t want him missing out on whatever was in there. 

Together, Ceres and Bovis opened the gift, revealing a box of matches and a small gas tank, as well as a cooking pan that was already filled with a thick soup.

It smelled of tomato and some kind of meat, and Ceres figured out it was best to eat it immediately.

Without any energy in their body, the two wouldn’t be able to protect themselves against the worst.

Because right now, nothing much was happening, but they were still in the arena; here, every boring minute was a good one.

While eating, Ceres attempted to figure out the time, but as she had never been taught how to do it properly, she figured it could be anywhere between 11 and 2 o’clock.

In the Capitol, the betting hotlines would be on fire now, with everyone eager to take part before the sun would set.

‘What would your family be doing now, you think?’

Bovis suddenly asked, and Ceres decided she could trust him with her story, as he had saved her life earlier.

‘My mother is probably counting down the minutes until I die, and I guess my father’s rolling around in his grave,’

Her ally appeared shocked at her answer, but Ceres rolled her eyes, ‘Yeah, there’s no need to pretend my mother actually cares, you know?’

She paused for a moment, holding her gloves over the small fire Bovis had built while using the gas tank,

‘If she had cared, I wouldn’t be in here, as my last opportunity for a better life,’

‘You can’t know that!,’ Bovis argued, ‘Maybe they wouldn’t even have drawn your name, maybe you would’ve been safe,’

Ceres shook her head.

‘Right,’ She sarcastically remarked,

‘Because there’s nothing more safe than living with a risk of getting hit every time you made the tiniest mistake,’

She continued; ‘And besides, I took over a hundred slips of tesserae, me getting reaped was always on the cards to be honest,’ 

Bovis sat next to her, looking around, not knowing how to respond.

Awkwardly, Ceres placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder.

‘Hey,’ She spoke, her words making little clouds in the sky.

‘I didn’t mean to say it like that, I’m just sick of hiding everything away now. I don’t want to die knowing that there’s so much that I haven’t said,’ The girl mentioned, referring to the near-death experience she had just a few hours prior. 

‘It’s okay. I should’ve never thought that I’d understood your entire situation so quickly, that was stupid of me,’

Bovis replied, shutting off the fire again, leaving the two allies in the cold.

‘Why’d you turn off the gas?’ Ceres questioned.

‘We need to kill a polar bear now,’ The boy responded,

‘Then its fur could give us some warmth. I don’t want to waste more propane if we can find other ways to cancel out the cold,’

Ceres laughed at the thought of killing a polar bear so easily, knowing what had happened when someone she knew had tried that four years ago.

Thinking the story was compelling enough, even for Capitol citizens, judging by the amount of blood that would appear, the girl sat down and started talking:

‘Well, about the whole ‘killing a polar bear stuff’, someone actually attempted to do that once. Just some stupid young man who wasn’t even able to hold up a sickle properly. Said he wanted to ‘prove himself’ or something. The dude stood like 5 feet away from the polar bear, but the beast had already seen him. An hour later there was nothing but scraps of that man’s body to be found, and the bear was nowhere to be seen,’

Ceres concluded; ‘There’s more chance of Stella hooking up with me in the cornucopia than us being able to kill that beast so easily, if we’re being realistic here,’ 

Ceres caught Bovis laughing at her joke, but she also still saw a hint of determination in his dark eyes, and she hoped he wouldn’t do something stupid.

‘I’ve got a plan,’ The boy said.

‘Like what? Killing a polar bear?’

Bovis shrugged, ‘Kind of,’

He sat up straight; ‘I believe that it’s too dangerous to just do it on our own, like you said, that’s stupid. But, and please don’t tell me I’m crazy, I think we could set a trap, and it would work,’ 

Ceres just sat there wondering how exactly that would work, but she decided to trust him, seeing as he didn’t seem eager enough to just throw his life away like that.

‘Tell me more, please’ She replied, a curious undertone in her voice.

‘I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I think we should use one of the other tributes as bait. Have them attempt to kill the beast, and then when it’s hopefully weakened already, we can kill it,’

Ceres nodded; ‘That’s actually quite smart. If you pick out the tribute we will use, I’m in,’ 

Suddenly, something else came to the girl’s mind.

‘But we don’t even know who’s alive right now, do we really want to take a guess now?,’

Bovis shook his head; ‘I’m not planning on doing it tonight, that’s indeed foolish. Tomorrow it is,’

Whispering close to Ceres’ ear, he continued; ‘We’ve entertained the gamemakers more than enough today. I think we’re safe from them. Just the others to worry about,’

The girl made a small nod, one that was almost unnoticeable, in her ally’s direction, and continued to fill up the silence between them with useless murmurs of superficial dreams and illusions.

—------------------

Cold, the cold was terrible.

Even in Heavensbee town such temperatures had only occurred once or twice in Ceres’ life, and at times like that, work had often been cancelled. Nobody wanted to be out during such days, and not even her mother was as cruel as to fend her out of the house, and that said a lot.

Of course there were stories that once, even before Panem had even existed, it had been much colder where Ceres lived, but that didn’t help. Even being from the northernmost part of district 9 couldn’t provide her with everything the girl had hoped for. 

And Bovis had it even worse, being from the southernmost district.

Hell, he most likely hadn’t experienced snow before getting dropped into the arena, for him it was probably as unrealistic as the surrealistic dreamland arena from the 28th games, which the Capitol had been replaying a few weeks prior to the reaping.

‘Are you doing well, with the cold I mean?,’ Ceres managed to spurt out.

‘I manage,’ Her ally replied, his head resting on his knees.

The girl couldn’t see Bovis’ face, but the soft sniffles he made seemed to suggest that he was crying. 

No one, not a tribute, not a sponsor, would see her cry, ever again.

That had been Ceres’ resolution, and it cost her every cell in her body to actually stay true to that.

She had to be consistent with her image, above all, but as Orinoco’s mutilated body flashed before her, again and again, the girl almost collapsed, and she dreaded having to sleep ever again, knowing that Orinoco would only haunt her even more then. 

Thankfully, quicker than the girl had anticipated, the hours passed by.

As Ceres readied the sleeping bags, without saying a word to her ally, she heard that Bovis had the brilliant idea of zipping them together, to hopefully provide more warmth.

With all the free time that she had, Ceres finally attempted to fix up her hair, getting the blood out quickly, just like she was hoping on.

She left her clothes for what they were, though. There were only a few blood stains that had remained untouched by the snow, and as the coat was white, they wouldn’t come out either way.

Instead, the girl had to ignore the scent of blood lingering in her nose. 

‘Look!’ Bovis suddenly remarked, pointing at the sky above.

The sun was finally setting, and it coloured the sky in vivid pinks and purples.

When it had turned completely dark however, other lights appeared in the sky.

‘Aurora!’

Ceres shouted, immediately placing her hands before her mouth, praying that nobody had heard her.

Having experienced the phenomenon almost every night where she lived, the lights reminded her of the little bits of home she carried with her, and of Seia.

Often, Seia had been staying up late to watch them, and she had dragged Ceres along sometimes, looking at the lights properly with a lens she had shaped herself. A telescope, she had called it, and she had also used it to study the stars above them.

At those moments Ceres hadn’t been so afraid of her mother, as her worries had been disappearing like snow before the sun every time she was with her friends. 

‘It’s fascinating, isn’t it?’

She exclaimed, looking at Bovis, who was staring at the lights in awe.

‘Yes, they’re magical,’ He replied, before laying down in the sleeping bag again.

Ceres joined him, and as the colours flashed across the skies, she reminded herself of the reason why she was here in the first place. To help him get home again. That's why she needed to win his trust.

‘Do you think your district partner is still alive?,’ Ceres asked her ally.

‘I doubt it. I saw her fall on the ground, face first, immediately after the countdown ended. I don’t think she managed to get up,’

‘That sucks,’ The girl  responded, her eyes filled with genuine compassion.

‘I’m sorry I never thought of letting her join us. I mean, she scored a 7, if we had helped her, she could’ve been a valuable asset to the alliance. It could’ve been so preventable-,’

‘No!,’ Bovis cut her off,

‘Don’t dwell about it too much. She’d have had to get out of the bloodbath either way, and seeing as she died so early on, I wouldn’t know if we could’ve been capable enough to protect her. We had our own threats to face,’

Bovis continued, more rational than usual, while attempting to warm his hands by rubbing them against each other.

‘And another thing, I wasn't so sure if I could actually trust her… She gave me nothing but a dirty look when I told her about Alec, my boyfriend, saying that I’d be better off in prison or something,’ He wept,

‘Look, I know it's strange, unnatural even, but I love him, that's who I am. And I’ve tried… Trust me… I’ve tried to change everything, to get with a girl, be normal again,- but it didn’t work,’

Bovis turned his face to Ceres; ‘I know you probably think I’m weird too, it's okay, that's normal. Boys should like girls, and the other way around, right?’

A silent tear rolled down Ceres’ cheek, and she quickly swept it away, before any camera could notice.

She knew what he meant, had been going through something similar herself.

Before, the girl didn’t know if she could trust her ally, but if she couldn’t have, why would he tell her all that?

‘There’s nothing weird about liking someone of the same sex. Listen, I’ve been meaning to tell this earlier, but I like both girls and boys, and it’s just who we are. We can’t change it, it doesn't matter how hard we try. But more importantly, we shouldn’t let hatred take the love away,’

Ceres whispered, so that only Bovis could hear.

She was afraid of what people back home would think, and judging as the Capitol condemned any kind of same-sex love, stating her thoughts out publicly meant digging her own grave.

‘I’m going to make sure that you get home,’ Ceres continued, meaning every word,

‘And you’re going to have a beautiful wedding with your boyfriend, and when you win, don't you dare-,’ Her voice broke, 

'Don’t you dare listen to what they say about you. That’s not worth it. Those people just live in the past. It’s their fault that they can’t accept someone’s love,’

Bovis seemed to calm down a bit more, hearing those words, and a slight smile even formed on his face. 

‘I’m just glad that I have someone by my side. I feel like people often underestimate the privilege of having a friend here, someone to always have your back,’

Bovis spoke, his words loud enough for the Capitol audience to hear.

Their previous conversation, no matter how heartfelt, would be deemed as controversial, and the two allies had to keep pulling strings to fall into the Capitol’s good graces.

Ceres nodded, and twisted around in the sleeping bag, attempting to catch some sleep. 

‘I agree, will you wake me up when the anthem starts? I’m tired,’

The conversation was strictly back to business now,

‘Sure,’ B ovis said, sitting up to prepare to keep his watch.

Ceres slowly closed her eyes, and for the first time since coming into the arena, she felt safe, the presence of a friend surrounding her.

—--------------------------------

A nod on the shoulder, two, maybe three times, woke Ceres up, and for a moment she thought she had an attacker, so she grabbed the sickle she’d been holding in her hand for the entire time, readying it before her face.

But it was just Bovis, waking her up for the anthem, just like he had promised.

‘Sorry,’

She awkwardly whispered as the first notes of ‘Horn of Plenty’ filled the arena.

The flag of Panem was projected in the night sky, and after a few seconds, both the tributes from district 3 appeared, now gone forever.

Ceres knew about the 3 girl, her skull fractured by Aemelia’s axe, but hadn’t spotted the boy. He must’ve fallen during the chaos, then. 

Next, Orinoco’s face came to haunt Ceres once more, and the scent of blood around the girl became even stronger for her.

He could’ve won- his length, talent, and training making him the first place in the odds, almost guaranteeing another district 4 victory- But Ceres had prevented that.

Somewhere in 4, a family had been fuelled by their hatred for the district 9 girl, and that feeling would never disappear. Just like she would never be completely healed again, even if she won.

8 girl passed by, immediately being followed by Harvest, Ceres’ district partner.

‘I should’ve protected you,’ The girl murmured, knowing that now, the entire district would probably be against her.

She failed in her mission, and never got to bring him back to his siblings. Poor Harvest.

The n, to no ones surprise, Bovis’ district partner appeared, and to pay her respect, she didn’t look in her ally’s direction, letting him grieve in peace if he wanted to.

The pair from 11 concluded The Fallen.

Eight. That was how many children had left this world forever. How many of them must’ve been more deserving of a victory than Ceres would ever be? How many never stood a chance against all the bloodshed, the cruelty? 

It was cruel, but this was the hunger games, and you should kill, or you will be killed...

casualty; a person killed or injured in a war or accident

Chapter Text

After the last notes of the anthem had echoed through the otherwise silent arena, Ceres whispered that she would want to take the watch now, so that Bovis could rest properly. Judging from his half-opened eyes only, it looked like he needed the extra sleep more than she did. And Ceres was afraid of all the nightmares and drama that her dreams would bring, especially considering what she'd done...

The security of their camp also weighted into her decision; even though the careers were probably down to just three members, they wouldn’t want to waste a good opportunity to hunt.

Maybe they were driven by frustration in their search for the district 2 duo, or maybe they felt threatened by the fact someone else had killed Orinoco, the person with the highest odds in the alliance.

But did they know who killed him? Did they know the person whose clothes were still stained with his blood?

From within, Ceres already started to feel regret over the things that she had done.

Every time she even attempted to close her eyes, Orinoco’s decapitated body stood in front of her, and though she’d tried to let the snow wash away her sins, the guilt lingered on.

But she had to keep up a facade for everyone but herself.

I f her mask dropped, if everyone would find out how pathetic she actually was, the world would end. No one would want to sponsor a scared mouse, and no sponsors in this harsh arena would mean her end.

The thought of taking a life had struck Ceres’ mind more often than she would ever proudly admit. She was no psycho, or at least didn’t think she was, but there had been one person in particular that she had so desperately wanted to get away from. Her mother.

Oh how, on those days when the ugly words carved into her skin like a blade, she’d wished she could just easily fight her way out, just like in one of those Capitol orchestrated action movies from which the protagonist was always lawful and heroic.

Not that Ceres hadn’t tried, though. Sometimes she had tried to resist her mother’s ever-controlling grasp, and it had worked, maybe one time, maybe two, but for the majority of her life, Ceres had stood powerless against her mother. 

But what if she had found the possibility to kill her mother? Not as if Ceres had never wanted to do just that, imagining a target drawn on her mother’s forehead, a gun fired at it.

Would Ceres feel guilt, remorse? And if not, wouldn’t she be just as bad as her mother?

Ceres hoped that Saturn, her only living friend in the district, would look away from all the bad things she’d done.

She didn’t want him to see her as a monster, or as her own mother. No, she was different, the girl was sure of that at least.

Ceres was not her mother, and she would never be.

—----------------------------

“Mind if I take over now?,” Bovis suddenly spoke,

“You look like you’re about to faint,”

Ceres snorted, wanting to drag the cameras into their conversation again, to win over even more sponsors.

“Would you like a mirror, you look pretty miserable yourself,” She joked, and she was relieved when Bovis actually started laughing. 

But it was true, Ceres was actually tired. She felt the weight of the day crushing onto her shoulders, and she was pretty sure that if she did have a mirror, her eyes would appear bloodshot.

And maybe sleep would do her well, maybe all that pondering about her mother wasn’t that healthy after all. 

“Wake me up if something happens,”

Ceres said, burying her head into the sleeping bags.

She had slept here before, in this ice-cold arena, albeit for a short time, and it had been just fine, so she hoped that this would also be the case for tonight.

There was no chance of mutts suddenly appearing, not when barely anyone but the die-hard fans tuned in for the late hours of the games, and especially not since the bloodbath had been just hours ago.

Ceres was safe. Bovis was safe. They’d be just fine together, and one of them would win, hopefully Bovis.

With those affirmations, Ceres finally fell asleep.

—---------------------------------------

Ceres woke up with frozen hands, though the sleeping bag had protected most of the rest of her body. Quickly, she attempted to warm up her hands again, rubbing them together.

Ceres had been used to the cold, of course, but it still caused discomfort to her. Ceres didn’t dare to take off her gloves, knowing that the frostbite would act fast if she did. 

Frostbite, the number two cause of death in Heavensbee Town in the winter, just behind the polar bears.

Everyone knew someone who had frozen to death in the field, during one of the harsher days of work.

Of course, the peacekeepers were formally obligated to protect their workers, to not let them freeze to death, but in reality they thought it was someone’s own responsibility.

“Just wear an extra scarf,” One of the Peacekeepers had told Ceres when her index finger had nearly frozen off. 

But Bovis would probably feel even worse, Ceres realised as she quickly turned her head to face him.

The boy had fallen asleep mid-watch, and though she wanted to scold him for it, saying that the both of them could’ve easily been killed this way, Ceres also felt really bad for him.

His face had a rather blueish tone to it now, and the girl knew that he didn’t have long to live if she didn’t act up. 

So, Ceres grabbed her own sleeping bag, knowing that she wouldn’t need it anyways if she were to keep watch, and carefully placed it on Bovis’ shivering body.

Hypothermia could get to her as well, but she knew that she at least had a few more hours to get something else to warm herself up.

There.

Close to their camp, Ceres spotted a small bunny, its coat camouflaged by the thick snow.

Ceres had never hunted before, and she didn’t have any long-range weapons, but if she would be fast enough it could be possible to kill the animal. 

Slowly, Ceres approached the bunny, hoping to not leave any evidence that she was coming up close. But she wasn’t silent enough.

The bunny had somehow noticed that he had a predator, and began to run off, his footprints leaving marks in the snow. Ceres was desperate however, quickly jumping onto the animal in a last attempt to kill him.

She landed face-first in the snow, and just as she attempted to get up again, knowing that laying on the ground like this could also cost her her life, she noticed the red circle of blood that had formed in the snow.

Ceres furrowed her brow, thinking it might’ve been her own blood, and she angrily spit out snow from her mouth.

Getting killed by a fucking bunny, how pathetic, she thought.

But it was not her own blood, seeing as the wounded animal was laying on the ground in front of her.

There was a large hole in the bunny’s stomach, and Ceres didn’t hesitate to put an end to the animal’s life.

She pushed her sickle farther into the tiny body, the guts falling out at the touch of the blade.

No cannon sounded, which Ceres found weird, but then she realised that the dead creature was not another tribute, but just an innocent bunny that she had planned to use for food and protection against the cold.

Holding the dead bunny in her arms, with her sickles hanging onto her belt, Ceres made her way back to the camp, looking at the the morning sky around her.

Bovis was fast asleep, but some more colour had appeared on his face, which Ceres saw as a good thing. She didn’t want to turn on the propane gas yet, not thinking it was needed to spill it, but the girl did want to get this bunny ready for their breakfast. 

Out of one of the backpacks, Ceres grabbed the strange knife, which Bovis had said was used for skinning an animal, and she got started.

Much to her displeasure, the bunny’s white fur had quickly turned red, and the texture had been stickier than usual, but if the fur would provide warmth, it would all be just fine regardless. 

God, Bovis’ district literally has it the worst, Ceres thought.

Compared to the daily slaughter of animals, harvesting grain sheaves was actually not that bad. At least her skill with a sickle could come in handy here as well…

“What are you doing?,” Bovis suddenly asked, standing behind her.

Ceres almost jumped of fear until she realised it was just her ally.

“Skinning a bunny, you were almost freezing to death, you need the extra warmth!,” The girl exclaimed, showing the animal’s mutilated body. 

“That’s not how you do it!” Bovis protested, jokingly, and if Ceres closed her eyes, she could just pretend the two of them were lab partners in a biology class.

“Then finish it off for me, know-it-all,” Ceres laughed.

She handed Bovis the bunny, and he quickly got started on skinning the animal, much more curated than Ceres could ever manage. 

—--------------------------------------

“So,”

Ceres spoke, “Should we get started with the polar bear plan today?”

Bovis nodded, and he stared at her in silence.

The plan itself wasn’t badly formulated, but the correct execution would involve trapping someone, getting their body mutilated by the bear(s), and then getting killed by Ceres.

Taking a life just for some extra warmth, that they didn’t even need for survival necessarily,  wouldn’t be easy to be justified, but Ceres trusted in herself to get the job done. She had finished off Orinoco, and another kill would only grant her with more sponsors and a bigger chance of survival.

“Let’s go hunting!”

Ceres parroted what the career pack had often said when embarking on a similar journey.

Bovis nodded again, and started to put all their scarce belongings in the two backpacks.

He handed one of them to Ceres, and placed the other on his own back. In return for his efforts with the bunny, Ceres had been sharpening and cleaning their weapons, though Bovis’ machetes were still spotless and seemed to just be taken from the cornucopia, and she held onto her own sickles as well, ready to kill.

Ceres saw Bovis taking one more look at their campsite, probably to say goodbye, as they would likely not return, and then the two allies started their long walk through the arena, hoping to find any tributes. 

After what seemed like hours, Bovis finally spotted a flash of black hair far away, or so he said, and he and Ceres started running after the figure.

Quickly, it became evident that this figure was indeed another tribute, like they’d hoped for, and that he was the guy from district 12.

No matter how hard Ceres tried, she couldn’t come up with his name, but it wouldn’t matter if she were to just get rid of him this quickly.

Just as Bovis wanted to approach 12 boy, to convince him to fight a polar bear alone, someone, or rather something, started growling up close.

Ceres recognised it as a polar bear, even before the animal crashed onto 12’s already weakened body.

She covered Bovis’ mouth with her own hand, to prevent him from screaming, and the two quickly ran off to find shelter behind a rock. 

“Help me!”

The district 12 boy shouted as the polar bear started to tear him apart. He seemed to have noticed that there were other tributes close by, considering his that eyes were frantically scanning the rocks where Ceres and Bovis hid. 

He was unarmed, didn’t even have a backpack with him, and to Ceres it was clear that he would be gone in minutes if nobody interfered.

She wasn’t planning to do anything; this was just mother earth doing her job, and if 12 boy managed to somewhat injure the bear, that would just be for the better.

Though the boy from 12 was desperate, even wounding the bear with a rock he found on the ground right next to him, it wasn’t enough for him to defeat the creature.

He went down after a long, dragged out fight, with his cannon sounding not long after. Though there was not much of the boy left to pick up with a hovercraft, let alone recognise it as a human being, the polar bear still attempted to eat the tribute’s flesh.

Surprisingly, the animal didn’t actually run away after that, lingering behind to eat his ‘well-earned’ meal. Ceres found it strange that he stayed, and that the hovercraft had not yet started to remove 12 boy from the arena. But maybe that was impossible, maybe there was nothing left to be taken home.

Ceres hoped she wouldn't end up the same way.

“Hey,” Someone shouted from behind.

C eres turned around, holding her sickle in front of her face as a form of defense. Bovis, though more hesitant, did the same.

Oh, this whole plan had been so fucking stupid, why didn’t they consider that anyone might want to back stab them?

But it was just the unarmed boy from district 8, whose chin was marked with an ugly scar.

“I’m Taylor Mckinnon, from 8, and I want to join your alliance,”

Ceres had the urge to roll her eyes at that, but she knew she had to play along for her plan to work out. This was the perfect opportunity to do it, now that the polar bear was still around. 

“You want to join us?” Ceres asked, her voice sweet as sugar.

She had pr actised this persona of hers quite frequently lately, to appeal to Capitol audiences, making sure that both her expression and words seemed extremely believable.

“Why don’t you kill that bear first?” She suggested with a smile on her face,

“Come on, you can keep the coat we will make from it if you want. My other ally is very proficient in the skinning business. And if it works, you will never have to feel cold again,” 

Taylor nodded, and it appeared to Ceres that he seemed to fully trust her.

How stupid.

“By the way,” Ceres continued,

“I’ve noticed you don’t have a weapon. You can borrow one of Bovis’ if you want,” She suggested, pointing in Bovis’ direction with her index finger. 

Taylor seemed to agree with the proposal, and he almost immediately grabbed the machete Bovis handed him, storming onto the polar bear all by himself. 

Contrary to the 12 boy, Taylor was armed, but he still lacked the skills and the strength to really stand a chance against the animal.

Ceres let out a soft, almost maniacal laughter, watching the story unfold. He wouldn’t stand a chance, being just another victim of hybris himself.

Bovis poked her in the side, getting rid of Ceres’ delusions;

“We should help him, otherwise we’re never going to kill that bear,”

Ceres thought for a moment, but even she thought that having the boy suffer endlessly was unbearably cruel. 

Ceres grabbed her two sharp blades, and Bovis did the same with his remaining machete, and the two stormed onto the polar bear as well.

With three attackers, the animal didn’t seem as if he could take it much longer, and his movements became more sluggish as the seconds passed by. 

The polar bear had left his neck unprotected, and just there and then, Ceres knew what to do; strike him in the neck like she’d done Orinoco, surely a bear wouldn’t be much harder than a human.

But she was much and much smaller than the animal, and even with Bovis’ help, she could barely strike through his neck properly. 

With some last instinct, Ceres decided to climb onto the polar bear, who was still shaking heavily.

It went surprisingly easily, and though he must’ve felt the heavy weight pressing onto him, he was focused on killing Taylor more than anything.

With a swift movement, Ceres impaled the animal, burying her sickle into his thick neck. 

Ceres had to use all of her strength for this, and she knew she placed herself in mortal danger as she still sat on the polar bear’s back, but it didn’t matter.

This was her only chance.

The girl continued slashing through his neck, again and again, hoping that her sickles wouldn’t break or even bend. 

Eventually, when it seemed as if she hadn’t put in much effort, Ceres gave up, sliding down the polar bear’s body. But for some reason, the impact her blades had made, had been enough to definitely strike the animal down, and as his body dropped to the snowy ground, it seemed as if all his bones had shattered. 

Ceres Grist had killed a polar bear for once, an achievement she’d never thought she would fulfill. 

But as the euphoria and the adrenaline from that brief moment faded away, Ceres noticed a flaming pain in her right arm.

There was blood seeping from a presumably deep wound, and it would have to be treated soon, but there was something more important to do.

Taylor, who had collapsed onto the ground himself, right next to the polar bear, was clapping in his hands with his last remaining powers.

I s he just that stupid? Cheering my achievements like he did the job himself? He’s going to die, Ceres thought, but she didn’t dare to say that out loud.

Instead, the girl approached Taylor swiftly, drawing the sickle from her uninjured hand.

She pressed it against the scared boy’s throat, with her mind not even slightly knowing what she was doing. 

“It’s sad that our alliance has to come to an end so soon,”

She spoke, loud enough for all the cameras to hear. Because they would want to register this moment, without a doubt.

“Really, really sad, but it’s not all about unicorns and rainbows here in the Hunger Games,” 

“Why…,” Taylor stuttered out,

“I thought I could trust you,”

Ceres laughed again, an empty glance in her eyes. She was just like her mother now, and that thought made her hesitate for just a second.

A tear, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, dropped down on Taylor’s shoulder.

“I have to do this,” Ceres assured the boy, though she wasn't sure why she had to kill him, as she slashed his throat. 

—----------------------

When Taylor’s cannon finally sounded, Ceres couldn’t walk away from his lifeless body. It seemed as if her feet had locked themselves onto the ground, and her mouth had stood frozen in an ‘oh’.

Ceres couldn’t justify herself anymore, or her decision to kill the boy.

Because unlike with Orinoco, her own life or that of Bovis hadn’t been in mortal danger, and she hadn’t even shown her remorse.

Ceres was vile, heartless, her mother’s reflection.

And Bovis would leave her now, that message was clear to her. Oh how the boy must despise her now, for all that she had done…

But Bovis just nudged her shoulder, sitting next to her on the floor.

Ceres looked him in the eyes, afraid that he could tell she’d lost her humanity and compassion.

The boy’s expression still seemed gentle, though. It made Ceres want to tear up a bit; she didn’t deserve him as a friend, not when she’d been such a horrible person to everyone else here.

Much to Ceres’ surprise, Bovis held her hand, and started to whisper;

“Are you alright?,”

The girl shrugged. How could she when she’d taken yet another life?

“No, of course you're not alright, that was stupid of me to ask,”

Bovis spoke, pointing to her right arm, from which blood was still seeping,

“I meant your arm, you seem to be bleeding out,”

Ceres wanted to laugh, say that it was ‘nothing’, that she’d be just fine, but she couldn’t force those words out of her mouth this time. 

“Fuck, Bovis, I’m dying, aren’t I?”

She questioned, hesitantly.

The pain in her arm was burning even worse now, and without any treatment, Ceres would meet her end very soon.

A little voice in the back of her head would say it was karma, but she knew she deserved better than this. 

Soon enough however, a parachute ascended from the sky, marked with a large yellow ‘9’ on the side.

“Wow,” Bovis exclaimed,

“You’re lucky to be getting all those sponsors, yeah?”

Ceres just nodded, ignoring the stinging pain in her arm. 

When the girl opened the box, she found a whole first-aid kit in there, and she wondered how much it must’ve cost Sylva, and likely Veles too, to get it.

Her mentors… She hadn’t thought about them much since she’d landed in the arena, being so busy focusing on her own survival and that of Bovis’ all the time. 

“Thanks a lot Sylva and Veles!”

She shouted towards the sky, not afraid that she could be heard by other tributes.

Bovis quickly silenced her by saying that there was a note included with the gift as well. 

Ceres grabbed the note, fending it away from Bovis, in case it contained something that would put their friendship at risk.

C eres, It read, don’t take too many risks here. If you want to win, please don’t lose yourself in the process. - Sylva

Lose herself in the process? As if she hadn’t already done that years before her name was even in the reaping bowl for the first time.

Sure, Ceres admired Sylva as her mentor, but there were just so many things that even she couldn’t understand. 

There was blood on Ceres’ hands, both figuratively and literally, that she wouldn’t ever be able to wash off.

And worse; she enjoyed using Taylor’s stupidity against him, enjoyed the way she’d trapped and then killed him.

That was not justifiable by a single, heartfelt letter from her mentors, or from anyone really.

“I’m a monster,”

Ceres whispered, her words forming clouds in the sky,

“Psychopath, oh Snow, I-,”

Bovis sat closer to her now, attempting to digest what she’d said. Maybe it was just her bleeding out, maybe she hadn’t actually lost herself. 

“You’re not a monster, Ceres,”

Bovis spoke gently, rolling up her sleeve to properly get started on taking care of her wound.

Ceres rolled her eyes; how could he still think that? After killing two innocent children, all more deserving of victory than she was or would ever be. 

“Taylor had to die for one of us to win,” Bovis spoke.

Ceres was surprised to see her ally be so pragmatic, but knew that he probably regretted saying those words himself.

One of us, he’d said, not his name only, not hers. Oh, Bovis truly believed that they were both equally deserving to win. 

“We need to fix your wound up and get started on the fur,”

He continued, and that somehow put Ceres out of her trance. 

Quickly, Ceres wrapped some last bandages around her own wound, and ingested some of the painkillers that Bovis had also found in the first aid kit. She swallowed them dry, not wanting to drink more of the frigid snow that was everywhere.

The girl rested for a few minutes, until the numbness kicked in, and she told Bovis that she was ready to move on.

—------------

Luckily for Ceres, she had never had a preference hand when using farming tools, which was especially convenient during the heavy harvest days, but definitely came in more handy now than ever.

Sure, her sickle felt heavy in her right hand, making conditions almost unbearable, but the lightness in her left hand made her carry on, at least for a while.

Bovis had gotten started on removing the polar bear’s skin as soon as the two allies had approached the dead animal, saying that this would prevent flies or anything to come in and ruin the fur.

Ceres had giggled a bit; as if flies would exist in this ice cold world; even with her jacket and everything on, it still didn’t seem to be anything over 20 degrees Fahrenheit. 

But Bovis was partially right, though. If the two hadn’t come in to skin the polar bear now, who knows who else could’ve come in to do some ‘funny business’ with it?

And besides, the sooner they’d have extra protection against the cold, the better.

—----------------------

Sure enough, after hours had passed, the perfectionist in Ceres finally decided that the fur was ready to be worn, and with a needle and threat that she’d found in the first aid kit, she began to attach the fur to both her and her ally’s coat.

“We’re lucky a polar bear is this big, aye?”

She shouted to Bovis, who was already in the process of preparing a meal with the animal’s meat. He just nodded, directing his attention to the fire again. 

Ceres hoped that no one would attack their camp today, not when they’d been so well prepared against the cold and she was still partially wounded.

Thankfully for her, luck worked in her favour, and she was left with worries only about her own mental well-being rather than that of her or Bovis’ lives.

It really couldn’t get much better than that, not in the hunger games.

As minutes passed, and Ceres had created some kind of extra blanket with the rest of the fur, the girl made the effort to look around her.

The climate of the arena felt weirdly comforting in a way now, considering she’d been used to it somehow, and for a short moment she could just pretend that it was a regular, though extremely cold, winter day in Heavensbee Town, and that she was going for a walk with her friend Saturn. 

But quicker than Ceres would’ve liked it, she got thrown back into reality. She was stuck fighting for her life, or that of Bovis’, in the Hunger Games, regardless of whether she would actually want to continue with living or not, and that thought was even harder to swallow than the pills earlier today.

—------------

{**********************************} 

Sometimes, Ceres just wished she would’ve hung herself earlier, even before the reaping had commenced, if she was really as miserable as she thought she was.

In 9, it was a common way to go, and nobody would pay much attention, but now that thought was off limits.

The Capitol would punish her for it somehow, though she’d probably not be there to experience the consequences, and besides, did she really, in all honesty, want to die?

{**********************************} 

Ceres had been faced with a near-death experience not even a day ago, and that had felt so incredibly horrible, and she knew she’d never want to go through that again.

In all honesty, the girl felt that she’d been afraid of dying.

So in order not to die, she had to kill others, that was how the story went.

Kill or be killed, it was up to her to decide.

Whether she enjoyed it, the act of taking someone’s life, however, was the question, but in the end, even that wouldn’t have to matter.

She was going to let Bovis kill her in the end, maybe a mercy kill of sorts, so that she wouldn’t have to die in fear, and the boy could live the life of his dreams with his fiance.

He deserved it more than she did, either way.

schadenfreude; pleasure derived by someone from another person's misfortune.

Chapter Text

As minutes passed, the temperature seemed to drop severely, faster than what nature would ever be able to do.

I t must’ve been the gamemakers acting up then, Ceres realised, as she told Bovis to keep moving, because laying still for too long would make the hypothermia grow worse quickly. 

Well, those Capitolites must’ve had a more fucked up attention span than a toddler, if they wanted to presumably have the competition down to half the tributes only on day two.

Or maybe nothing -apart from the polar bear fight and Ceres killing Taylor- had really happened lately.

Maybe everyone was just quietly waiting to freeze to death. No, that was not going to be Ceres’- or Bovis’ for that matter- fate. They were not dying of hypothermia. Never.

Ceres had been looking at Bovis in order to get some grip on their plans for the day, as neither had really been looking forward to a light-hearted conversation.

She had plans of maybe hunting some more, though they’d barely ran out of polar bear meat yet, just to stay on her feet.

But maybe it was better to look for a more protective shelter, for her own, still wounded arm to actually heal quicker. 

“We should explore the arena more,”

Ceres eventually broke the silence, “We’ve been in this area for such a long time, and I fear we’re going to freeze to death if we don’t constantly move,"

Bovis nodded, directing his attention not to her, but to one of the cameras he had apparently spotted. 

“There has to be something more than just snow and hills out here, right?”

He said, “In the canyons, close to where I live, we’ve got caves for shelter. For us, it really helps against the extreme summer heat, but I think it might also work for protection against the cold,”

Ceres didn’t know why he was so openly revealing his plans to the audience instead of just to her, but then it struck her; he’d been playing them to appeal to them just like she had. Bovis knew about the game that they both had to play, and he was making it easier for the Capitolites to sympathise with him.

Bovis was definitely much smarter than he’d let on, and so humble as well.

Ceres could do nothing but admire the boy and feel insanely happy for his boyfriend back home, who’d gotten with the most perfect person. 

“Of course,”

Ceres added, joining his game quickly,

“Enclosed spaces can keep in the heat better. I do wonder, though, where do we find them?”

She left the question lingering in the air for a minute, hoping that sponsors would understand her call and give her a form of navigation. The girl knew she couldn’t just expect everything she asked for, but there was nothing wrong with just trying it.

Ceres waited a minute.

Nothing.

Another one.

Still nothing.

And then she realised that her mentors must’ve known that something useful was close.

That, or they were already broke. But Ceres didn’t believe that- she killed two tributes already, which she thought was about the highest kill count of this year’s games so far. 

Of course the Capitol would grow bored, as last year’s dragged out disaster wasn’t widely celebrated.

Of course they’d be anticipating a shorter edition, with the victor being someone who was actually deserving of the title. 

—-----------------------------

“Come on,” Ceres told her ally,

“We’ve got to move. Your so-called ‘cave’ is probably close enough that they think we can find it ourselves,”

But Bovis wasn’t as used to the cold as Ceres was, and even with almost his entire body covered, he couldn’t stop shivering.

In one selfless move, Ceres gave him an extra part of the polar bear’s fur that she’d been wearing on her shoulder earlier, just to get him on the move again.

“You’re going to be alright, Bovis,”

The girl whispered as she practically dragged him with her.

Sure, she was shivering as well, but she couldn’t let that show too much.

No, she had to be strong; for Bovis, for Saturn, and for her all sponsors that would abandon her if she took off her mask.

The two allies walked for what seemed like ages, with their frozen fingers holding a tight grip on their weapons, and the two rucksacks that seemed to carry the weight of the world on their back.

The arena they were trapped in was scenic, almost like one could vacation there if they wanted to, something that would likely happen once the games would come to an end, but the cold also gave an unpleasant subtext to the whole experience. 

Whoever would come out of here alive would be marketed as ice- and ice cold, no matter what they’d done in the arena to stay alive.

Such a narrative being splashed onto you without you having any say in it, absolutely freaked Ceres out, because she'd tried so incredibly hard to stay true to herself. With the help of Saturn outside the arena, she'd planned to create her own story, to make sure her sacrifice was worth it.

But maybe she’d already fallen into the trap. Maybe she already was the unforgivable ice queen in the stories Seia had once shown her.

Oh, Seia...

H ow she would probably have hated it to see her friend do all these dubious things now.

And it was even worse that Ceres had taken advantage of her best friend’s death in the interviews as well. Would Seia ever forgive her for that? Ceres seriously doubted it. 

Seia had been pure goodness and grace throughout the entirety of her short life.

She’d never hurt a fly, and had certainly not killed anyone in her games. Ceres was quite the opposite now; with her innocence so far gone that she believed that even if she were reborn as an entire new person, it wouldn’t wash away all of the sins she’d committed. 

But if Bovis would win- like Ceres had been plotting on against him knowing- the tables would turn.

Her last dying breath would be that of selflessness, not pride or hatred. Bovis would probably be well-liked by all the districts, being the hero they’d wanted to have for so long.

And Ceres would die a hero’s death.

But first, before she could even think about Bovis’ probable victory, a lot would have to happen; Bovis couldn’t die of hypothermia or anything else before the finale, the remaining tributes would have to die first, and they would have to remain on the gamemakers' good graces.

Now, the first part of that list was their main obstacle, Ceres noticed as she kept dragging her ally along to a supposed cave.

Of course, the last time Ceres had seen a cave had been in the 61st hunger games, where the entire arena consisted of a series of underground tunnels.

Those games had been terrifying to watch, even more so than everything she’d witnessed with her own eyes this year.

It featured bats that would drive you absolute nuts with the awful, torturing sounds they’d make, darkness, nothing natural, and a shit ton of other obstacles.

Ceres had been 11 years old at the time, and nine girl’s screams that year, desperately calling for her mother and father, had been haunting her just like Seia’s had.

Now that Ceres actually thought about it, that girl must’ve been Sylva’s, and perhaps also Veles’ daughter, judging by the similarities they carried in their face. 

But vague memories couldn’t haunt Ceres now, not when her ally was almost dying… She had to get both of them on track, and fast. There was really no time to waste here. 

—---------

“That’s a cave I think,”

Bovis murmured with a weakened voice, as they approached something that looked similar to the train tunnel Ceres had been riding through to get to the reaping each year.

She nodded. There was no time to even think about all the traps that the cave could possibly carry.

Ceres went in first, knowing that even with her injured hand, she could withstand more challenges than Bovis would, as he’d be caught with severe hypothermia. If no treatment would follow, he’d die, that was the harsh truth they’d both have to face. 

In school, being from the northernmost part of 9, Ceres had gotten some lessons on how to prevent dying from the cold.

They especially came in handy in the field, where despite the low temperatures, she’d been forced to work all day, but would also probably come in good use now.

The first tip she’d always gotten was to find some kind of dry and warm shelter. A cave would be the best they could get in here, even though it could be a polar bear’s den as well.

Secondly, you’d have to remove the wet clothing and make it dry, because the exposure to wet clothes would make the cold even worse.

And then, it was all about coverage, and carefully reapplying heat to the person affected.

Bovis could’ve been in much and much worse conditions, Ceres quickly realised.

He hadn’t been as stupid as to take a swim, or get himself exposed to so much humidity. He was just not used to it all, and the arena was really beginning to take a toll on him. 

Thankfully for Ceres, the cave seemed to be about empty, with no signs of potential animals or other tributes having lived in the place earlier. And as she began to drag Bovis to the fire she’d quickly made with one of her matches, she realised that this place would make for an excellent shelter. 

As minutes passed, and Bovis sat around the fire, gradually warming his fingers, Ceres did in fact realise that they didn’t have a lot of food left to ration, and that on day 2.

But when they’d gotten out of the bloodbath, they’d had plenty. That was strange, especially in the hunger games. Food couldn't just disappear like that, right?

“Fuck!”

She cursed under her breath, which made her ally give her a confused look.

“What’s going on?” He immediately asked. 

“I think,”

Ceres started, redirecting her attention to a small red light in the corner of her eye. A camera.

“I think someone has been stealing from us,”

Her expression grew cold as she was actively trying to suppress her anger.

“But how?” Bovis questioned,

“We haven’t left our supplies unguarded at all,”

Ceres thought, how could it have happened, really? 

“It doesn’t matter,” She replied quickly, though vengeance was all that was on her mind,

“We just need to get some new supplies to last us for a while, and then we’ll be fine. We still have all the polar bear meat,”

That was true at the very least, as Ceres had killed the animal only a few hours ago and they hadn’t slept since.

—----------------------------

“So tell me, Bovis,”

Ceres whispered, still loud enough for the cameras to catch,

“Who was your favourite hunger games victor?”

Her ally stared at her in confusion; “Are you Flickerman, or what?” He joked.

Ceres shook her head while faking a smile; “Nah, I’m just trying to win the sponsors over,”

She formed with her lips,  not letting out a single sound, hoping that Bovis could still understand the hidden message. 

“Okay, well, I’ve grown quite fond of Cecelia Sastre, from 8,”

That was a safe answer, almost everyone in the Capitol loved Cecelia’s story; how she’d fought so bravely while pregnant, to save her own child. The ‘Mother of Panem’, as people would call her, was one of the more popular victors, without using much violence to earn the crown.

“I just think that she was so incredibly brave,” Bovis finished off. 

“Mine’s Carter Jones from 6, you know, highest kill count ever?!” Ceres told her ally.

This was another very safe option, as she’d mainly play into the older, and richer sponsors’ cards this way.

“I admire his confidence, I guess,”

But there was more to that story, more than Ceres could ever safely tell the Capitol. Carter had been playing the audience since the beginning, too, she could tell.

He’d always make funny comments, and seemed to know exactly where the cameras were, though that was probably easier to tell back then, as his arena hadn’t been custom built yet. They only started doing that during the 25th, and Carter had won the 21st edition.

“Carter,” Bovis replied,

“That’s one of the older ones, right? The one who died in that house fire that they keep replaying on the news even though it happened decades ago?”

Ceres nodded, they’d been talking about that event a lot back in 9, too. 

Suddenly, a cannon blasted through the arena, and Ceres was left wondering who it actually was.

She hoped it was one of the tributes from 1 and 4, or perhaps someone else who posed as quite a threat.

But alas, they’d find out who it was during the anthem, so that thought slid to the back of her mind. They’d have to worry about food first.

But even that had been taken care of, considering that two parachutes had just landed in the cave’s entrance.

The district numbers of both Ceres and Bovis were visible, and Ceres quickly went off to pick the gifts up.

Ceres’ contained an entire meal of pasta with green sauce, even including sides and a bottle of some drink, cranberry juice, which she’d already had in the Capitol. 

And then Bovis’, with a safety blanket and some extra propane gas, would come in handy, too. He’d been reading the note that he’d gotten with it, which prompted Ceres to check out her own parachute too.

It included a note written in an unfamiliar handwriting, and Ceres started to read it out loud;

“Dear Ceres Grist, we are beyond delighted that, even though he has sadly passed 34 years ago, the support for our king Carter Jones is still evident among the youth. In return for your love, we’ve got your back here!” She finished in a dramatic tone,

“Kind regards, the Carter Jones foundation!” 

“I don’t even know what the ‘Carter Jones foundation’ is, but thank you so much!”

The girl shouted towards the camera, blowing kisses at it before dividing up the food she’d gotten.

They’d have to ration it, if they wanted to make it through the upcoming days, or maybe even weeks, that the games would continue to last. 

—-----------------------------

Upon hearing the first sounds of the anthem, Ceres prompted Bovis to walk outside the cave for a minute, in order to see who had actually passed that day. And though her ally’s hypothermia had almost vanished inside the cave, the moment he stepped outside, his condition deteriorated again.

Even Ceres, being more used to the cold than Bovis, almost couldn’t stand it, and felt that she’d collapse if she wouldn’t continue to stay in movement. 

“Just a few minutes, and then we’ll go inside again,”

Ceres muttered through the cold air, and Bovis just nodded, slowly.

“How many do you think are-,”

Bovis attempted to speak, but the sight of the first face in the sky, that of the 7 girl, cut him off. 

“Poor girl,” Ceres whispered,

“Wasn’t she a victor’s daughter or something?”

She continued, recalling a conversation Sylva and Veles had had on the train, which seemed  to have happened an eternity ago. Bovis shrugged his shoulders, seemingly disappointed that the person killed was not another career.

Then, Taylor appeared in the sky, and Ceres had to force her face in a neutral grim, though she felt like she wanted to die at that moment.

Finally, after all the anger and the adrenaline had run out, she felt as if she were completely bottled up with guilt.

But of course, the sponsors who probably only adored Ceres because of the bloodshed she’d committed, wouldn’t like such a reaction. She had to pretend that all was alright, if she or Bovis wanted to win.

The last face in the sky, the one that brought the remaining competition down to only 13 tributes in total, was the boy from 12, and despite Ceres’ best efforts, she couldn’t come up with his name.

And just as his face faded away, she got scared that if, in some impossible sequence of events, she’d come out victorious, she’d forget all their names, faces, everything.

She couldn’t do that, that would be more horrible than poking a knife into all the other tributes’ backs.

“What was the boy from 12 called?”

Ceres ended up asking Bovis, who seemed to be stuck in his own mind.

“Greyson I think, in his interview he said that he used to do theatre classes in 12, if I recall correctly,”

Ceres nodded, surprised by how similar she and the boy were in terms of interests.

Maybe they could’ve even been friends in another life…

“I want to remember every single one of us here, dead or alive,” Ceres stated.

And immediately, almost as if Sylva could read Ceres’ mind, another sponsor gift was dropped off. An empty notebook, with a blue pen attached to it.

Ceres wanted to write down everything immediately, but her frozen fingers couldn’t cooperate properly. 

“We’ve got to go inside,” Bovis insisted,

“I don’t want to die here,”

The sadness in his eyes made him seem much younger than he actually was, and as the thought of her having to kill him crossed Ceres’ mind, she felt utterly disgusted with herself.

“It’s so damn cold, indeed,”

Ceres eventually replied as she and Bovis set foot into the cave.

The girl was determined to finish off writing the names before the last light in the arena would fade. 

On top of the first page, Ceres wrote Stella and Suede down. District 1 , both still alive.

She continued with the second district, and then the third, and so on, until she reached Greyson from 12. Bovis knew more names than Ceres did, but in the end the two of them had written down all of the tributes’ names, even the ones that were already dead. 

Ceres began to whisper her victims’ names over and over again, like a mantra of sorts,

“ Orinoco. Taylor. Orinoco. Taylor…,” 

Silently, the girl wondered whose names she’d have to add to that list in order to protect Bovis and let him win.

—-----------------------------

On day 3 of the games, Ceres woke up to the sound of faint footsteps. For a second, she thought that Bovis had gone out hunting, without even warning her, but quickly, she felt his warmth near her in the sleeping bag.

It must’ve been someone else, then,

Ceres thought as she grabbed her sickle, knowing that whoever the intruder would be, they’d be better off dead.

Suddenly, a loud ‘bang’, nothing like a cannon, but rather something heavy dropping to the ground, sounded, and Ceres went outside to investigate. 

It was a girl with brown hair, her skin almost completely blue.

Judging by the orange accents in her jacket, it must be the girl from 5, Solaire, if Ceres remembered correctly. Solaire was sitting on her knees, as her face suddenly dropped to the snowy ground. 

No cannon sounded yet, but Ceres did feel bad for the girl, and she approached her with her sickle in her hand, hoping to finish her off.

“Hey,” Ceres spoke, which made Solaire shiver.

Eventually, the girl turned to Ceres, her face covered in snow. Parts of Solaire’s body had turned completely black due to frostbite, and her mouth was frozen in fear. 

“Want me to finish you off, huh?”

Ceres continued, trying her best to save the taunting for someone not as vulnerable as Solaire. 5 girl, with the remainder of her strength, tried to nod.

“Soon it’ll be spring again,” Ceres whispered as she slit Solaire’s throat. 

Soon it’ll be spring again…

An empty promise, but what else was she supposed to do?

There was absolutely nothing after death, but admitting that in Solaire’s last moments, would make Ceres into even more of a heartless murder machine than she already was.

Scanning the ground for supplies, Ceres found nothing.

Of course not; Solaire had died because she was so emaciated, so frostbite-ridden; Ceres had just sealed her fate, in a more gentle way than winter could ever achieve.

What she’d done was justifiable; Solaire had already been a dead girl walking to begin with.

“What have you done?!,” Bovis screamed close to Ceres’ ear.

The girl couldn’t speak, her mouth remaining frozen in the same way Solaire’s had.

“She was just a young girl, Ceres,”

Bovis’ brow furrowed in anger, and his hair was wild, as if he’d just woken up. 

“I…I…,”

Ceres stuttered,

“-She asked me to finish her off, I swear on my life,”

Bovis raised his machete, as if he didn't trust her completely, and for a moment Ceres thought that she was a goner.

But then, he lowered his weapon, and stared into the distance.

“I don’t know what has gotten into me, Ceres,” Her ally spoke,

“I’m scared, I don’t want to lose,” 

“I’m afraid too,” Ceres whispered in his ear, gradually standing coming closer to where he was standing.

“I’m just trying to stay busy to not go insane, but now I’m thinking that it does the fucking opposite of what I want,”

She paused, carefully looking around her,

“I’m a psychopath, I fear. I just thought it’d be so easy to get these games over with, that I was prepared to win without losing myself, but it doesn’t work, it doesn’t fucking work!”

She screamed out before collapsing onto the floor. 

“It’s the cold, Ceres, not you, just the cold,” Bovis argued,

“This is not who you are, but just who they make you out to be!”

But who were they ? And how could her ally still believe that she was not completely crazy?

"You're going to breathe in and out, slowly," Bovis whispered, getting her back up from the ground,

"You're going to be fine, just breathe,"

He continued, and though Ceres was sceptical about her ally's methods at first, it seemed to work after a while.

—---------------------------

As the days passed, Ceres found herself to be able to trust Bovis completely.

The days in the arena became more and more of a routine, as if Ceres was back at her every day job again.

In the mornings, she’d hunt, and Bovis would prepare a meal for the two of them.

And then, at night, they’d huddle together in their sleeping bags, in an attempt to not freeze to death.

There were no romantic feelings between the two of them, though the Capitol would likely want to pretend that there were. But they got sponsors from it, and they didn't freeze to death, which made the entire situation a bit more bearable. 

The days might’ve been boring, but they brought a strange comfort to Ceres she’d never experienced before.

For once in her life, she didn’t have to fear her mother’s presence anymore.

And Bovis, who in another time would’ve made for such a great friend, told her stories about his fiance, about life in 10, and about his pet kitten, Felix, who had been named after his district’s first victor. 

In return, Ceres would speak about Saturn and his affairs in the Capitol, and the dates she’d had with both boys and girls.

Bovis always leaned in to listen, as if he was genuinely interested in what she had to say.

The boy still seemed amazed by the fact that Ceres could see the northern lights almost all winter, and that the snow in Heavensbee Town was not artificial like the one that remained on the ground in the arena. 

Slowly but surely, although the cold still lingered, Ceres felt at peace.

There had only been one other face in the sky since she’d killed Solaire -12 girl-, and she knew that she was even closer to getting Bovis home.

There were only 10 others left besides her and Bovis, and those numbers were reasonable. 

It would work out; Bovis would be crowned as the victor, and both of them would be happy, though Ceres would still be rotting in her grave. Death brought solace, at least.

—---------------------------

On the morning of day 7, as Ceres had counted with her fingers, she had awoken feeling determined to do something outrageous.

Quickly, she woke her ally up as well, and as they sat around a small fire to eat the last remains of meat they’d gotten, she told Bovis her plan.

“We’re raiding the cornucopia today,”

Ceres declared, and Bovis just stared at her in shock.

“You’re crazy!,” He argued,

“It’s us 2 against 3 careers, we’re never going to make it!”

The girl rolled her eyes, concentrating on the sickle that stood against the wall of the cave.

“Knowing them, they’ve probably gone out hunting, and besides, it’s that or dying of starvation. A knife to our heads is much and much quicker,”

Bovis, after what seemed like hours of Ceres trying to convince him, finally agreed and grabbed his own weapons and their supplies as the two of them headed towards the cornucopia.

With the two allies standing on the top of one of the hills and the arena being so barren, the golden horn was easy to spot, and they waded through the thick snow to get to their destination. 

The arena was smaller than in most other years, Ceres realised, as they reached the bottom of the hill after just half an hour of walking.

Or was it half an hour? The arena had really been messing with Ceres’ perception of time. 

Ceres tried to fill the journey by whispering another one of her stories to Bovis, but as the two of them had almost reached the cornucopia circle, she suddenly fell silent.

Only one person was sitting in the structure, huddled in a thick coat and fast asleep.

It was the girl from district 4; Rusalka. 

Having faced Rusalka’s district partner in the bloodbath, and with him not being so prepared for the cold, Ceres figured that killing the girl would also be easy.

District 4 had always been described as warm by Ceres’ geography teacher, there was really no way they’d ever even heard of snow before the games had started.

Still, Ceres was cautious, not wanting to make a single mistake.

She told Bovis to stay back and only help if she called out for it.

She couldn’t risk having him involved in a potential fight as well, because that could mean his death.

As silently as she could, Ceres made her way up to the cornucopia’s entrance, where Rusalka was sleeping. She nearly wanted to laugh at the girl's stupidity, but didn’t want to reveal her position, as that would give the already more capable Rusalka another advantage. 

Quickly, Ceres scanned her surroundings again, finding some trays of food she would take with her if she survived past the fight.

If there would even be a fight, anyways, because judging by the way it looked now, she could just sneak up to Rusalka and slit her throat. 

Unfortunately for Ceres, Rusalka didn’t quite give her the satisfaction.

She woke up to the sound of her enemy stepping on a rotten apple, and quickly held the small knife she carried before her face.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Ceres cursed, holding onto her own blades tightly.

“Seems like we’ve got ourselves an intruder, how stupid,”

Rusalka taunted, but Ceres was not impressed, rolling her eyes at the statement.

“You probably don’t even know how to use your own weapon,” The siren-like girl from 4 continued;

“None of you outliers really do, after all, we’re the ones who are actually trained in this. All your undeserved victories are just sheer luck, you know?” 

Ceres felt as if she was about to explode; How dare Rusalka insult her skills like that? How dare she say that any victory that was not from 1, 2 or 4 was pure luck?

Ceres was better than the girl from 4, she just had to show it.

Rusalka continued to taunt Ceres, throwing around random insults as if they were snowballs.

Ceres tried her best not to go crazy, to contain herself. Instead, she focused on possible ways to kill her enemy. 

She came closer and closer to the other girl, circling around her like a ballerina, narrowly dodging Rusalka’s knife stabs every time.

Eventually, the two girls stopped spinning around each other, and Ceres, who was at least 4 inches taller than the other girl, looked down to cross Rusalka’s sapphire eyes.

“Have you ever wondered who killed your district partner?” She questioned, calmly, as if she was just a police officer trying to solve a crime case.

“It must’ve been one of the two’s, I'm sure of it,” Rusalka stated,

“Those psychos abandoned us before the games even started,”

Ceres rolled her eyes, once again laughing at Rusalka’s stupidity.

“They left the cornucopia, and you went straight after them. There’s no way they could’ve killed him,”

“How can you be so sure?!” Rusalka argued,

“You weren’t even there!” 

Ceres put the sharp part of her sickle against Rusalka’s throat, taking advantage of the distraction she’d just created.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, because I killed him,” She stated.

T he girl from 4 gasped for air, but Ceres pressed her sickle deeper into her skin, drawing blood.

“Would you like to say any last words?” 

Ceres loosened the weapon a bit, plenty blood still dripping from the open cut.

“You…” Rusalka stuttered,

"You really think you’re so much better than us, because you at least didn’t sign up for it. But you’re worse, you’re so much worse… you-,”

“Enough!”

Ceres cut Rusalka off, pressing her crescent blade against the girl’s skin again. 

“-Monster!”

Rusalka barely managed to bring out, and in Ceres’ head, the word echoed over and over again.

The girl grabbed her sickle, and just like she’d done with Orinoco, she started sawing through Rusalka’s throat, using all of her rage and adrenaline. 

After pulling the head from the girl’s body, with cut-off blonde strands falling to the ground, disappearing into the snow, Ceres fell down to her knees.

She wanted to scream, say that she was so incredibly sorry, that she’d make up for it all soon, but her mouth formed not a single syllable. 

A cannon sounded, indicating that just another person had lost the games.

Ceres herself was still alive, but she'd lost herself in the process...

—--------------------------

psychrophilic; thriving at a relatively low temperature

Chapter Text

The sight of yet another one of Ceres’ victims, the head separated from the rest of the body, made her vomit this time around, the meager meal she’d had a few hours ago flowing out of her mouth. Ceres didn’t know what had tipped her over the edge this time, but it was more than enough to absolutely despise herself. 

As her mouth still tasted disgusting minutes later, Ceres went on to grab a bit of the snow on the ground, stuffing it into her mouth. It was a stupid thing to do, really, but she didn’t care much about her health anymore.

If she were to die at the hands of hypothermia, then so be it. Ceres just had to get this horrible taste out of her system.

It was Bovis who came to bring Ceres to her senses, not long after.

He’d already grabbed an extra backpack, filled it with the needed supplies, and was ready to get the hell out of here, but Ceres remained where she was, frozen. 

“Ceres, we’ve got to go, it’s dangerous out here!” The boy spoke, but Ceres just shrugged her shoulders, content with where she was.

“I’m okay,” She spoke, “I just need to find some peppermint, that’s all,”

“What’s peppermint?” Bovis replied.

Ceres thought back on the countless amounts of time she’d spent laying on her friend Saturn’s porch, looking at the stars while sharing a bag of the cleansing candy between the two of them. She’d been so happy back then, in comparison to now, and even the worst kinds of abuse her mother had directed to her were nothing compared to the games themselves.

At least she still had herself somewhat composed in those days.

“It’s some kind of candy,”

Ceres answered, throwing herself back in the present, and at that moment, another parachute ascended from the sky. The girl was surprised, judging by the enormous amount of gifts she’d gotten since the start of the games, but maybe the gamemakers were a little more generous this year. 

“Oh, thank you so much!”

Ceres shouted, not being afraid that anyone could hear her. Quickly, she opened her gift, revealing, like she’d expected, a small bag of peppermint. The girl ceremonially threw one of them in her mouth, and after that, Bovis joined in. She laughed as one of the candies found its way to the floor and he pretended to be sad about it.

The Capitol must’ve loved this; just two friends chattering about and sharing food. It was relatable to all of them, too. Everyone must’ve had a close friendship growing up, and Ceres didn’t have to do the maths to know that relatability often got people to donate more stuff. 

Ceres however also knew, with a new sense of hope and happiness in her mind, that it was probably for the best to move away from the cornucopia. The pair from district 1 could return soon, especially upon hearing another mysterious cannon shot, and she knew she couldn’t risk another one of those fights.

Another cannon blasting through the arena only made that feeling stronger, and Ceres and Bovis quickly grabbed their stuff to hopefully go back to their old hiding spot. The hike from the cornucopia was long, and all the white, similar-looking hills made everything all the more complicated, but Ceres knew that they couldn’t just give up. 

When the two allies finally reached something that seemed familiar to the cave they’d taken refuge in earlier, Ceres spotted something strange from the corner of her eye. She turned around, and saw a couple of peacekeepers, wearing long, white fur coats and transparent shields.

The peacekeepers had worn similar outfits back in Heavensbee Town, during the cold winter in ‘60 that had caused so many deaths.

‘Special forces’, came to the girl’s mind.

Ceres alerted Bovis of the two peculiar visitors, but he seemed just as confused as she was.

An intrusive thought prompted the girl to come up and take a closer look at the peacekeepers, who seemed to be delivering electrical shocks to a boy that was lying on the ground. Next to him, another boy laid down, but this one seemed to be dead, as the peacekeepers were not concerned with him whatsoever.

“What’s this all about?”

Ceres dared to ask as she walked up to the force’s only woman, who was completely focused on anaesthetising the boy. Never before had Ceres encountered peacekeepers, or any kind of outsider’s intervention, in the games, and she was so utterly confused.

“I order you, and your ally to step away from this place, or you will be shot,” The woman answered, her face stoic,

“Did you understand my message, Miss Grist?” 

Ceres nodded, it was too dangerous to argue with someone of such authority, but she didn’t leave until she’d gotten the chance to have a good view of the situation.

The boy from 6, judging by the dove-grey stripes on his coat, was the one getting tortured, with the mutilated corpse on the ground belonging to 5 boy.

There was a large stain of blood on 6 boy’s lips, as if he had been… No, this couldn’t be true, he couldn’t have been…

The girl stumbled away, dragging Bovis with her, attempting to move far from this horrible place.

“This boy from district 6, fuck, I can’t remember his name-,”

“Titus,” Bovis interrupted.

“Well, Titus… Titus was trying to eat the boy from 5,” Ceres stated, and Bovis’ face immediately froze in shock. 

Ceres had had her fair share of experience with cannibalism, as she’d once seen her classmate’s father, also in the bitter winter of ‘60, take a great bite of someone who’d just frozen to death in the fields.

She remembered the peacekeepers closing off the school for two days, until they got someone to finally admit who’d been the one committing such horrors on one of the country’s hardest workers.

Ceres was the first to admit what she’d seen, wanting to stay on the Capitol’s good side, and wanting to just get away from her house, and thus her mother. Though she’d repressed the memory for years, it all came flowing back onto the surface when she’d seen Titus’ blood-stained lips.

Eventually, the man who did it got taken straight to the village’s gallows, and there had been no one mourning his death, of course not.

Who’d mourn a monster? 

—---------------------

After Ceres and Bovis had practically ran away from the cannibalising tribute, the two sat down to discuss what would happen next.

“Are they gonna punish us for what we’ve seen?” Bovis asked, frantically looking around him.

In all honesty, Ceres didn’t know. There must’ve been tributes before, punished for knowing or seeing too much, and all she knew is that she didn’t want her or her ally to be one of them.

“They need a distraction, the audience I mean,”

Ceres eventually brought out, “Let’s make a snowman!”

Ceres, who, in every other situation would’ve rather killed herself than engaging in such ridiculous and childish activities, forced the words out of her mouth, knowing that it would at least bring some much needed entertainment.

And besides, maybe it was good to act like a kid again, maybe she had never properly gotten that chance before.

“What’s a snowman?”

Bovis asked, and for a moment, Ceres wanted to roll her eyes, and laugh at his stupidity, but then she realised that someone from 10 probably never had the chance to experience snowfall before getting dropped in the arena, as the climate was so unbearably warm there.

“A snowman,” Ceres tried to explain,

“It’s just some fat structure made out of the snow,”

The corners of her mouth curled in a smile, as the girl thought back on the memories of the careless winters with her friends she’d experienced when she was younger.

Once, she and Seia had tried to replicate their annoying maths teacher who always explained those weird formulas with x and y in it on the snowed schoolyard, and they’d gotten in trouble for it, but all that seemed so long ago now and the memories seemed to be so detached from her, as if Ceres was an historian trying to understand diaries that had been written centuries ago.

As Ceres blew kisses to the camera, which was pretty much a step out of her grim, perfected persona, she got started on rolling the first big ball of snow. Bovis joined in, sticking his snowball on top of Ceres’, and they continued onwards until the statue was towering over both of them.

Bovis tried to add more snow to the top, but forgot to attach it properly, which made some of the powder fall on his forehead. 

Ceres laughed even more because of that, as she tried to sculpt the snowman’s face into something that resembled a real person.

Bovis’ skinning knife, which he had gifted to her for this particular task, worked surprisingly well, and after about half an hour, Ceres could see a shocking resemblance in the face.

The face was angular, and the eyes she’d created were showing disapproval.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Ceres whispered, for the person she’d carved was her own mother.

“What is it?” Bovis asked as he turned to face her. His eyes were gentile, and she knew she could tell him the truth.

“My mother, it seems like for some reason she’s always here to haunt me. And I thought I’d escaped her, but why is she still here?”

Ceres closed her eyes, trying to get rid of the terrible pictureshow that played in her head, over and over again.

“This is not similar at all,”

Bovis began; “But once, I thought I had a friend, and then I started feeling more for him, and when I told him, he immediately made it everyone’s business. My parents couldn’t bear to look at me for weeks, before they realised that I was still there, that their son was not just any demon that had taken over me,” 

Ceres put her hand on her ally’s shoulder, attempting to comfort him.

“They believe in that shit too, in 10?”

Bovis just nodded, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“In my village, a girl that I liked once had to stay in a cold bath for 10 hours, just for the demon to come out. Just because her parents had caught us kissing,”

Bovis’ eyes became wide, staring at Ceres in disbelief; “They really did that to her?” 

“Aye, my district also voted in a girl who liked people of her own sex, in the first quell, if I remember correctly. Most of them older people are not right in the head,”

Ceres replied,

“Sometimes I wish people in my village would just treat each other as their equals, instead of throwing around hatred like bullets,”

This was dangerous to say, especially in the hunger games. Ceres had to turn the narrative to fit the Capitol’s, instead of speaking her own truth. 

“But then I guess we’re all equal in death anyways. Maybe that’s what the games are for,”

Somehow, Ceres had the idea that she’d just made her previous comments even more radical. She’d wanted to show that the Capitol indeed had all the power, like she’d always learnt in school, but for some reason, it just didn’t all make sense to her anymore. There was a clear flaw in the system, one that caused inequality and division in the country, and she wanted nothing but to get that flaw out.

“I think we should just…”

Bovis spoke, “Move on, you know, I don’t think we’re safe here,”

Ceres nodded, understanding his hidden message.

Suddenly, the girl thought about Sylva, and how she’d talked about how she’d ended up so ‘fucked up’. Was the Capitol to blame for that, too? And what had really happened post-victory that made both her mentors so utterly depressed?

So the two allies marched on, leaving whatever places they’d already been to behind, discovering uncharted territories. Ceres never looked behind her, afraid that it would make her want to stay somewhere, which was something she couldn’t afford to think of now.

In this arena, in this barren landscape, there was no place to call home.

—------------------------

“Nine tributes left now,” Bovis disrupted the silence as the two allies had found their refuge behind some tall rocks.

Ceres nodded, closing her eyes. She, or Bovis, was so close to actually taking the crown home now, and she was still unsure as to how to feel about that.

“I know,”

The girl spoke, “They’re gonna interview our relatives soon,”

Ceres didn’t explicitly say family, because she was sure she didn’t have any. Sure, her mother would get some screen time, and honestly Ceres was curious to see what she would say, but her mother had never cared for her daughter. What kind of a facade would she have to put up to make sure she was loved? And where was her father in all this, surely he must've existed once?

But then, Ceres thought about Saturn, and her mentors. The boy would care about her, surely; he’d promised to confess his love to her, so that she’d have a story worth rooting for. And Saturn knew how to captivate an audience, enchant them, better than Ceres would ever be able to do.

Her meager acting experiences had given her some advantage in the games, but she was convinced that everyone could tell that she was faking it all. Saturn would be the one to set it all right, to make sure that everyone fell in love with her.

And as for Sylva and Veles, Ceres thought they'd have some tricks on their sleeves too, considering the years they’d been involved in the mentoring circle.

If they hadn’t given up on their tribute by now, their commitment could up Ceres’ chances too.

But, the most important question of all, as the games were drawing to an end, was how Ceres would be able to grant Bovis the victory.

Days ago, when more tributes had been alive, Ceres hadn’t been scared by fact that she’d either have to take her own life, or have her ally finish her off, because everything, the whole heroic death she’d die, seemed so far away and unrealistic, like castles floating in the skies. 

Now, however, with nine remaining tributes and the clock still ticking on, especially because of Titus’ deeds, Ceres knew that there were only a couple days left until her demise.

The sickles suddenly weighed heavy in the girl’s hands, and the rope with a sunflower attached to it, that still hung onto her neck, felt incredibly uncomfortable now, as if it was her own noose.

“I can’t do it,” Ceres whispered, pondering her life’s choices.

“What are you on about?” Bovis asked, carefully, “The interviews? You don’t have to do anything for that! We’re trapped in here anyways,”

The girl rolled her eyes at that; “No, the games are ending and-” 

“And you need to kill me? Do it right now, if you really want to, the sooner the better, right?” Her ally interrupted,

“At least people still have faith in you,” Ceres shook her head, and some loose dark strands fell in front of her green eyes,

“How do you know that? You deserve it more, victory I mean. At least you have a real life to come home to,” 

“Haven’t you seen the newspapers a couple days before the games started? They were all astonished by you, and with all the things you’ve actually done in here, you’re basically the victor already. They adore you. My mentor, Tom, actually said that he’d hoped I would die in here, just for you to win. If I come back, the district will kill me anyway. They don’t like people who love different down there, and I’ve already been bullied for years just for being so close with my boy. You, on the other hand, fit right into everything the Capitol expects of a victor. It’s you who needs to win, Ceres, or there will be riots!” 

Ceres kept silent, shocked by Bovis’ sudden outburst.

Never had he expressed himself so profoundly, and the words seemed so strange too. Just about a week ago, during his interview, he’d said that he had been wanting to give everything to come back to his fiance. Was the cold getting to him?

And why didn’t Ceres feel the same way?

“Sure, I’ve got everything a victor needs, except the sheer will to live,” The girl eventually started,

“I went in here to die, remember? I’ve never had a future, and the games won’t grant me one. And even though I can’t do it- I can’t kill you, you’ve meant too much to me- but you have to win. I’ll help you, I’ll make sure that my mentors’ll look out for you after you win, and then you can get married, live a happily ever after, vise versa,” 

“So you’re not going to kill me, not even in my sleep?”

Ceres shook her head firmly, speaking just one word; “Never,” 

—-----------------------------

A passive-aggressive note from Bovis’ mentor, thanking them for fucking the narrative up, made the two allies quickly move on to a different subject, and so the two following days went on in their usual rhythm. Ceres and Bovis would eat together, attempt to survive the cold by going out to hunt, attempting to avoid the other remaining tributes, who were probably scattered across the whole area, and sitting back to just talk.

Light-hearted stuff -fashion, school, the differences in culture in 9 and 10- but it kept Ceres from wanting to rip her own brain apart with her sickle out of boredom.

On the ninth day, when the dusk and the aurorae were breaking into the sea of white that marked the 67th arena, another cannon had sounded. There were no screams, or peacekeepers, or any of that, and Ceres figured that the kid, who was later revealed to be Adair from district 7, had just died at nature’s sometimes cruel hands.

Of course; it had been colder earlier today, and the day before, and who didn’t own a blanket, was probably beyond doomed now. 

Even Ceres’ snowy skin had turned blue once the morning broke in, and she had to hold onto the thick polar bear fur on her head to not freeze to death. Bovis was struggling too, but considering that sponsor prices were probably way too high to provide the two allies with anything of use, Ceres just told him to keep moving, and drink up the warm-ish bunny soup she’d made. 

Ceres had mashed the meat into small pieces, but even now, it was almost impossible to force the broth into her mouth.

Frames of a human leg, heart, arm, flashed before the girl’s eyes as she tasted the meat, and it was just her desperation that kept her from spitting it straight out. 

Maybe she’d looked at the bunny all wrong, maybe she and Bovis were, just like Titus, eating human meat.

Maybe Ceres had tasted it before, it belonging to one of the many secrets mother kept from her.

The girl had stumbled upon an almost empty room in the attic of her house, finding bloody fragments of what could only have been a human body. She’d recognised a heart, noting that it looked so familiar to the organ she had learned about in her biology classes. 

At the moment, Ceres had been horrified, had never seen that much bloody parts before, and she couldn’t sleep for days, the repressed memory only showing up in her worst nightmares.

A week later, when she’d been to the same room in the attic again, everything had been gone, except for some official looking documents that seemed to come from Heavensbee Town’s harbour quarters. 

Ceres had been lucky to not have been served meat in that week, but the thought of her maybe unknowingly consuming human meat, thus engaging in cannibalism, failed to leave her mind. And this bunny, who knows if the gamemakers didn’t mutilate it into something a lot more horrifying?

“Are you okay?” Bovis gently asked, and Ceres couldn’t nod.

“I can’t eat this,” She said, removing the cup of broth from her mouth,

“It’s the meat, I don’t know if it’s safe and I…”

The girl paused. She couldn’t just say that she’d thought she’d eaten human meat before, that she could have been just as bad of a glutton as Titus was. 

—-------------------

If Ceres’ maths were right, there were only eight people left in total, and the Capitol was currently in the process of interviewing everyone’s loved ones. They’d probably start with both the tributes from district 1; Stella and Suede, and then move on to the other two districts that still had both tributes in, 2 and 6.

Ceres found it strange that 6 was so successful this year, after years of a dry spell, but she knew that neither could win. Not anymore.

The Capitol’s displeasure with Titus’ actions was logical; nobody wanted to see a cannibal coming out alive, and his district partner would likely suffer in his shadow too.

If either of them came out, all attention would be shifted to district 6 and the sins they’d committed, and that was not a good look.

No, Ceres thought that according to both the Capitol’s and Bovis’ opinions, her victory would be the most desirable outcome of this fiasco. But she didn’t want to win, she just wanted for it all to be over.

“If you win, what are you going to do?” Bovis asked, attempting to fill in another trivial conversation.

“With us being this close, it’s more of a ‘when you win’ situation, but I suppose I’d want to take a long, hot shower,” Ceres replied, furrowing her brow.

Oh how Ceres wished to wash away all of her sorrow and the guilt that still stained her body. Oh how she longed for the warmth again, for spring to welcome her back home like an old friend, whether that be in district 9’s victor’s village, with Saturn embracing her, or six feet deep in the ground, facing the ending she most deserved.

“No, I meant the farther future,” The boy replied,

“I mean, I’m hoping to see Alec again, and my cat, and start a farm, but how about you?”

Ceres shook her head; “I can’t afford to think of such a future, built like a castle of glass. Only in the present can I determine if tomorrow will ever come, and then I’ll see what happens,” 

“Don’t you have any dreams, wishes, hopes?”

Bovis still prompted, and Ceres noticed that he was not even focused on the ever-present camera that hung between the two of them anymore. Eventually, after thinking for such a long, tense time, the girl opened her mouth;

“I’d love to own a cat, maybe more than just one. I’ve always wanted to, but mother has been saying ‘no’ ever since I was old enough to ask for one,”

Ceres closed her eyes, attempting to envision a big house in the middle of the district, with a dozen cats playing on her cranberry-coloured couch. It was the first happy thought she’d had in a long while.

“Yeah, I suppose I’d like that,” 

“You can have Felix when I don’t come back,” Bovis suggested, and Ceres didn’t have the heart to refuse. He seemed desperate to not let his little kitten down.

“But you’re coming back home, to 10, Bovis,” She tried,

“Yeah, in a coffin,” The boy deadpanned, and that marked the end of their conversation.

—----------------------------------

In the evening of day 10, or maybe even 11, Ceres wasn’t sure anymore, the girl spotted a tall boy running towards their camp, armed with a broken bow. In his quiver, only one arrow still remained, and he seemed so incredibly afraid, which was strange for someone so big. 

When the boy came closer, Ceres could recognise bloodied snot green, and she knew that the boy from 1 had just given up on his life. He, even though trained, was no match to her sickles and Bovis’ machete, if it even came that far. 

Ceres grabbed her blades, studying the district 1 boy closely. His name was Suede, she’d remembered Bovis mentioning that once, and he had scored a 9 during the training sessions, just like she’d done. Surely, he was capable of hurting her and Bovis, and even killing them, but there was something holding him back. 

“Kill me,”

Suede spoke, and it was at that moment that Ceres noticed that he was missing his right hand, which seemed to be bitten off by something, or maybe even someone. The girl furrowed her brow, sceptical of his strange wish. It could be a trap, were it not for the genuine terror in his emerald eyes. 

“Who did this to you?”

Ceres carefully asked, though a part of her already knew. But that thought was too hard to swallow.

Could humans really be that cruel? Sure, her multiple beheadings were nothing but pleasant, but the human bite marks on his remaining wrist made her believe that it all could be so much worse.

Suede spoke just a single word, a name; “Titus,” and that was when Ceres realised the boy from 6 had turned into a total lunatic, and that turning back such insanity was impossible.

She had to be the lesser of two evils now, and actually grant Suede his final wish.

“How do you want to be killed?” Ceres spoke, her eyes teary but focused on the boy in front of her.

“I never give any of my other victims a choice, but you seem like you deserve that, at least,” 

“You say victims in plural, how many did you kill? I mean, from the moment I saw Rusalka at the cornucopia, lying in a puddle of blood, I knew that there was someone more capable out here, but it was you this whole time?”

Despite the blood still dripping from his hand, Suede seemed to be a rational thinker.

Ceres spent some time counting, and eventually landed on a number that made her heart shatter into small pieces; “Four. I killed four people out here, and including you that’ll be five,”

Suede just nodded, unsurprised.

“I just wanted to know that you were capable of killing me, that’s all. Someone who has done it multiple times before must have little hesitation, which is what I need,”

He paused, catching his breath, and continued with his eyes pierced into hers; “Make it stop, the insanity. Please stop this. I don’t care how you do it, but stop it!” 

Ceres wanted to let him rethink his proposal, because surely he had a brighter future ahead of him than she did, but then Bovis, who’d been hunting for another bunny, popped up in her head.

If she wanted to make him win, another kill meant one step closer to him coming out victorious, and that was a noble goal.

“Fine,”

Ceres shrugged, readying her sickle, for what she hoped would be the final time. This time, she didn’t want to just behead Suede like that, and instead went for his heart, focusing on where she thought the aorta artery was located.

For herself, Bovis, and for Suede for that matter, she prompted him to lay down, close his eyes, imagining that it was going to be over soon. 

Then, after he’d done what she’d asked of him, Ceres got started, stabbing the sharp point of the sickle in his heart, over and over again, hoping to minimise his suffering by making the wound so severe in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered to the barely conscious Suede, who was bleeding out in agony.

Then, the girl straightened her back, looking up to the evening sky. Ceres' dark hair was flowing around her cheeks like a flag, and the expression on her face was stern.

“This is what you asked for, a show,” She shouted, as if she was Caesar Flickerman himself.

In some places, a crimson curtain would now roll down, definitely ending the play, as Ceres had seen in the movies she’d watched back home.

But now, the show wasn’t over until there was only one person left, and she wanted to make sure that it was anyone but herself. The others deserved it more than she did, anyways.

apricity; the warmth of the sun in the winter

Chapter Text

Finally, after Suede’s cannon had sounded, Ceres got ready to get to sleep. For no apparent reason, she knew that the games would not last much longer now, judging by the fact that she’d seen peacekeeper in the arena earlier today. As far as she knew, something like that had never happened before, but it was logical, considering Titus’ horrible actions earlier.

If Ceres were in that control room herself, she’d get the victor out as soon as possible now, directing the nation’s attention not to the cannibalistic actions that had taken place, but instead to the glorious winner that would bring unity to all of Panem.

The victor, Ceres was going to be sure that it was not her, but Bovis. He deserved it more. 

“I’ll keep the first watch,” Bovis spoke, and his ally just quietly nodded.

They’d been used to such a routine for what seemed like ages, and Ceres’ biological clock had already been adjusted to her ally’s. It was going to be over soon, and this was probably the last night in this wasteland that was the arena. 

“Soon it’ll be spring again,”

Ceres repeated in her head, over and over again, but she wasn’t sure what spring stood for anymore. In the most literal sense, the girl hoped that the temperatures would rise up high, that the valleys of death would blossom again. But spring could also mean hope, a new beginning.

Ceres wasn’t sure for which option she wished for more.

Ceres was going to sleep now, dreading and awaiting all the possible horrors that tomorrow could bring. Bovis would watch over her, just like he’d done for the past two weeks, and both of them would be safe, really.

Tomorrow, Ceres would harvest her way to Bovis’ victory, even if that meant having to kill herself. It was going to work, it was all going to be fine.

Ceres found herself stroking her jagged hair, attempting to get it all smooth and soft, in order to calm herself down.

Back in 9, the only person who’d ever done that in such a loving way, had been Saturn, but she was sure that he despised what she’d become now. Surely, everyone did.

Maybe Bovis was now only staying with her as a form of protection, because numbers were always of use in the games, even in the final stage. Maybe he’d never liked her, maybe he’d faked his part of their entire friendship, and all that for show. 

But was she really any better? If anything, all the things she’d done made her qualified as the games’ main villain, if Ceres were to think that one-dimensional. But would judging by one’s moral compass really be useful in the games. After all, anyone could be a monster here. 

—------------------------

Ceres woke up with the smell of fresh bread filling her nose.

She hadn’t experienced any of that for years, despite hailing from the district that was responsible for producing all the bread. For a second, the girl thought it was just a trick from the gamemakers, to get everyone desperate enough for a fight.

At the very moment, 7 competitors remained in the arena, but everyone could probably tell that most would fall soon. Maybe they would call out for a feast soon, or use some kind of force to draw everyone to the cornucopia. 

But when Ceres opened her eyes, she could just make out a small parachute in the dark, apparently filled with a loaf of the braided Challah bread, the one that was native to her district.

The girl wanted to save it for later, as some sort of formal breakfast, but considering the bread had been sent to her alone, with no note attached to it, greed took her over.

Within moments, the bread dissolved itself in her mouth, and the faster she chewed on it, the less thought that was put into the texture of it. There was no time to compare the texture to meat, human meat, if she almost choked into it all.

Bovis wouldn’t have to know, if Ceres just threw away all the last crumbs of the bread, and made sure to hide the silver parachute, but still, guilt filled her from within. 

In just a few hours, Ceres would wake Bovis again, and the two allies would try to make sense of the rest of the world around them.

If there was going to be a chase, a final battle, then so be it. Ceres just had to protect her ally against all the horrors of the world, and then all would be fine. 

But now, Ceres had seas of time to get her thoughts back into place for the very last time. To make sense of the confusion she had about her own, possible survival.

If she were to commit suicide, the Capitol wouldn’t like that at all, and probably punish everyone even remotely related to her.

But would dying at someone else’s hands really be the better option? The survivor of that, and Ceres knew it was probably going to be Bovis, would have to live with guilt stained on their hands for a lifetime.

And did Ceres really want to die? After everything she’d been through, didn’t she just deserve to have a second chance in life, for once?

Because her own survival was going to be the third, less likely, option. If that would happen, Ceres would join a long lineage of the Capitol’s favourite lapdogs, and she knew she’d fit right into that image.

After all, she’d never said or done anything rebellious, as she just wanted to appeal to the ones in power. 

Ceres had been acting for weeks now, and the utter exhaustion of it all was getting to her. If she were to win, she’d have to play pretend for as long as she was alive, or the Capitol would dump her straight into the grave that she belonged in.

Because as it stood, no matter how much of her own narrative Ceres wanted to spin on things, the Capitol still had the strings in their ever-mighty hands. 

—------------

The morning came, with the aquatic hues of the aurorae making place for the beautiful, cotton candy shades of the sunrise.

Ceres’ mentor, Sylva, would probably know what the exact colour matches of the sky were, and how you could replicate them on a canvas, and maybe she was even doing that right now, but there was really no way of telling. 

Ceres was locked up in a cage, and the only way to experience real freedom in this world was to be a bird, a raven, flying high and far away.

In a dream that once came to her, she had wings, golden as the sun, and her eyes were full of life again, as if she could handle the entire world. 

But her wishes for freedom, love, anything, would have to wait- there were still 5 other tributes standing in between her and Bovis- and Ceres wasn’t sure what any of them would do if their paths crossed.

In her head, the girl made a list of who was left.

From district 1, ever since Ceres killed their male tribute, Suede, last night, only the girl was left. She had probably been training for the games ever since she was born, and would not hesitate to kill anyone who came even slightly close to her.

From 2, both were still alive, but Ceres hadn’t seen them ever since they betrayed the rest of their group during the cornucopia bloodbath.

They were unpredictable, and so was Titus from 6.

Well, he was a total lunatic, really, though she’d never seen him in action. His district partner on the other hand, seemed shy, but looks could deceive. 

For a moment, Ceres’ thoughts went to Bovis, as she attempted to sort out what his probable reaction would be if they were the only ones left.

Would he betray her, before it even came that far? No, he would never do that, and Ceres felt bad for just thinking that as the boy opened his eyes, as if he’d overheard her thinking about him. 

“Mornin’,” Bovis spoke, “I hope it’ll be our last here,”

Quickly, he put his hand before his mouth, regretting the double meaning behind his words. Ceres brushed it off, dividing her last rations of food that she kept in her backpack between the two of them.

Unfortunately for her, there happened to be some beef jerky and half-rotten polar bear meat left, and the smell made her physically sick. 

“I thought I’d thrown all that crap away,” Ceres reacted, attempting not to throw up again.

“Might be crazy,” Bovis replied, “But what if this is not our last day here? What if we have to stay here for another week-,”

“No,” His ally interrupted,

“One of us is getting out of here alive before the fallen comes on, one way or another,” 

“So we wouldn’t have to worry about our food supply anymore?” Bovis questioned.

Ceres shook her head; “Today, we’ll go out hunting, just like the careers do, narrow down the competition a bit, you know?”

The boy didn’t seem to agree with her, judging by his expressions, but he eventually agreed; “It’s going to be over soon anyways,” 

—---------------------------------

Ceres spent the last minutes at their camp packing up all the supplies, and making sure that she was battle-ready. With a rock, she sharpened both of her sickles, and Bovis did the same with his machetes.

Then, she brushed the last bits of snow off her clothes, and asked her ally to braid her hair back tightly. With it being so short, it took quite long, and Ceres felt bad for Bovis wasting his precious time on her, but he seemed relaxed about it all.

“It’s what friends are for, right?”

He stated, and Ceres hoped that as long as she was still alive, that statement wouldn’t change, that she wouldn’t have to betray or turn against him.

But uncertainty was a disease that spread through Ceres’ brain like a cancer, and as time passed, the sentiment only grew stronger.

By staying busy, the girl hoped that she could stop the stream of worries in her head, and as she wrapped up packing her camp, she marched on, with Bovis following her closely. 

The arena looked beautiful with the golden rays of sun painting some colour in the endless white abyss, and Ceres noticed that the gamemakers were without a doubt behind such an aesthetic show-off.

Of course they were- they’d have to have some good frames for the final recap, no matter how they were going to narrate the games- and this was just another sign that the final day had started now.

“It’ll be over soon,” Ceres repeated over and over again, hoping to not let herself go crazy or lash out to her ally, “We’ll never have to walk for this long again,”

Bovis absently nodded, and the two allies marched on, through the thick snow.

Suddenly, another sound filled the arena, and Bovis turned to face Ceres in shock; “Do you see that?”

He mouthed, and he dragged his ally behind a rock. With a hammer in his hands, frantically attempting to run towards them, Titus’ face appeared in Ceres’ eyeshot. His lips were stained with dried-up blood, and his eyes were wide and filled with insanity. 

For a moment, Ceres thought that both her and Bovis were going to meet their end here, but then the boy, whom she also realised, that behind his mask of lunacy, couldn’t be a day older than 16, turned around, seemingly startled by another sound. 

“He’s just a child,” Ceres’ mind screamed.

Even now, she knew that circumstances had caused him to be like this, that deep within Titus there were probably still fragments of a boy who just really wanted to go home, but she couldn’t afford to think this way, not when he had it out for her, for Bovis, for all of them.

But Titus’ actions contradicted Ceres’ own thoughts, as he seemed to have spotted another figure in the sea of white. Ceres saw the person too, and noticed that the stripes of dove grey on their jacket matched Titus’.

Without a doubt, Titus was now coming for his district partner, and attempting to stop him would probably cost Ceres more than she could afford.

“Titus!,” His emaciated district partner called out, her frizzy brown hair hanging over her thin shoulders.

“What happened to you out there?” She asked in horror as the boy approached her. 

“Velo,” Titus slurred, “It’s still me. It’s still me… And I’m cold, so cold,”

Both the sixes looked terrified now, and a hint of genuine sadness was briefly visible in the boy’s eyes.

But just as quickly as the emotion had appeared, it was gone, and so was Ceres’ last hope of the boy showing mercy to ‘Velo’, as he called his district partner. 

Ceres just had to stand there and watch, and pray that the images that would play in front of her wouldn’t scar her or Bovis’ minds forever.

She froze as Titus readied his hammer, and held on tightly to her own sickle. 

Bovis held in his own scream by putting his hand in his mouth and biting on it, and that urged Ceres to do the same.

After all, it prevented her from reacting severely when Titus dragged the hammer down his district partner’s neck, opening a deep wound in the thin girl’s body. Ceres noticed that the girl wanted to say something, but the hole in her throat prevented her from getting out any word.

“Why,” Her mouth formed before dropping to the floor. 

After another minute had passed, a cannon sounded, and Ceres was not as happy as she probably should have been at that stage.

There was nothing to celebrate in such betrayal. 

But Titus didn’t stop there, instead hammering through Velo’s throat long after she’d been gone, and after a while, he started to eat from his district partner’s body, taking big bites from her now naked legs.

Blood was gushing from her body, colouring the snow a bright red, and this all became too much for Ceres, as she started to run far away from the horrors in front of her, dropping one of her precious sickles in the snow.

—--------------------------------------

When Ceres was far enough from Titus, she spotted Bovis, who had been following her closely.

She slowed down, waiting for him to catch up with her, and noticed that a part of his pants had been stained with blood. His ankle, and that couldn’t mean anything good.

“Are you okay?” Ceres attempted to ask, but a wave of vomit forced itself out of her body simultaneously. 

“I’m fine Ceres, really, they can fix it up in the Capitol if I win. I’m more concerned with you, if I’m being honest,” Bovis replied, though his voice carried pain, "You've changed,"

Ceres wanted to say that she was fine, but her eyes were wide and Titus’ actions kept replaying in her head, but this time it seemed as if she was morphed into the frames, as if she was the one who was eating from another human’s skin. 

Before this, Ceres thought it was her first kill that tore her soul down to pieces, but now, she was really sure that she was never going to heal again, even if she lived.

If she would survive, she’d never allow herself any kind of meat again, scared that it would be infected by a human, scared that she would be the cannibal herself. 

Another wave came up, and now all Ceres tasted was the bitterness in her mouth.

No peppermint would cure this, nor would a toothbrush do the job. The emptiness in her stomach was incurable, and she knew that all too well. 

“I’m not fine,” Ceres finally managed to bring out as she sat in the snow, as far away from her vomit as possible.

Thinking as clear as she could now, Ceres knew that the gamemakers were beyond pissed now.

“But it’s okay,” She continued, “They want it to be over as much as we do now,” 

Bovis nodded, and looked around him, probably hoping for some sign from above.

“We’re going to push ourselves through it, no matter what’s brought on now,” He spoke, but his voice was unsteady. 

“Maybe we could hunt some more,” Ceres suggested, though her voice lacked all of her previous confidence.

“We’re in no state to do so, I mean, look at us now,” Bovis replied, and Ceres ultimately agreed; “Let’s just-,” 

But the cloud of snow on the horizon, which indicated nothing good, interrupted Ceres, and she prompted Bovis to only grab his weapon and move on.

Ceres was still able to run, despite her shattered spirit, but she couldn’t say the same about Bovis, with his broken ankle. He wasn’t able to walk, let alone sprint, properly, and the only way to get him away safely was Ceres dragging him along with her. 

So, Ceres grabbed Bovis’ hand with her unarmed right arm, and noticed that, with her body carrying almost his entire weight, he was quite heavy, and it was so hard to still keep track of the path around them with her being distracted. 

“We’ve got to reach the cornucopia, and soon!”

Bovis screamed, but Ceres knew that from their location, the cornucopia was probably almost a day trip away without any help. The terrain was rocky here, and despite the fact that they were going downhill for the majority of the trek, Ceres still felt that they weren’t moving fast enough.

“We’re not gonna make it in time,” Ceres replied, and her eyes were dead again,

“We’re beyond doomed, the both of us,” She continued, “I can’t carry you much longer, and you can’t walk by yourself,”

It was a statement, but it sounded more like a cry for help than anything. 

“If only we could fly,” Ceres thought, as the snow forced its way to the two allies faster and faster.

If they kept on their feet, it would take approximately an hour for the snow to catch up with them, but there was always a need for more time.

“What even is this?” Bovis asked, “The snow I mean,”

Ceres didn’t know either, but she knew that it wasn’t any good.

If it was anything similar to the frigid sea near Heavensbee Town, with its waves swallowing anyone who couldn’t keep themselves on the move, there was no way of surviving it without knowing how to swim, how to keep your head above the water.

“I’ve heard it’s called an avalanche,”

Ceres eventually recalled, from some broadcast about the mountains in the Capitol long ago.

With district 9 being so flat, with only the occasional hill bringing some diversity in the landscape, Ceres had never expected to encounter one by herself, but now that she’d been dumped into the arena, nothing could surprise her anymore. 

This avalanche must’ve been orchestrated by the Capitol itself, probably to punish Titus for his actions.

And maybe even herself, just for being the witness of such horrors. Maybe they wanted to punish her and Bovis too, for seeing too much. 

Or maybe Ceres had been so sick in the head that she had been projecting her own actions on Titus, that she was the one who’d actually done it all. Maybe she was the real villain, all along.

But villains had to die, right? The hero had to come out on top, because that was how it always went, at least in the stories Ceres had watched.

—-----------------------------

Feet after feet, Ceres dragged Bovis along with her, even though it cost her all that she had.

They had to stay on the move, even though the blinding snowflakes and the terrible cold caused more harm than good.

The cornucopia was now in sight, its gold still being a beacon of hope against the current.

Still, it would cost hours to actually get there, and maybe the two allies would never make it in time after all, but a sliver of faith still struck Ceres’ brain, even in the dark place she was mentally at.

Ceres knew that someone was always watching, and that maybe someone could send anything of use her way, even if it was something small.

“Shit,” She said as an idea struck her mind.

“What happened?” Bovis replied, worried.

“We should’ve hung on to our parachutes, then maybe we could’ve tried to fly away,” Ceres was fully aware that even then, the chances of her and Bovis’ survival would only slightly improve, as she didn’t know if the parachutes could’ve carried their weight, but she also knew that it could’ve been worth trying.

But now of course, it was useless to even hang onto that hope, and it only disrupted Ceres’ somewhat steady pace even more.

The girl knew it was impossible to run forever, especially with Bovis who was dependent on her now, but she didn’t even think of letting him go.

Ceres would never be able to forgive herself for that. Or would she, when the pressure would reach its height? 

—-----------------------------------

Ten minutes later, or so Ceres thought, they were still running, not making any progress, and it was at that moment, that the girl realised that they’d found themselves trapped.

In front of them, an entire formation of rocks stood, making it almost impossible for them to continue on sprinting without tripping. But the avalanche was close to catching up with them as well, and Ceres could only find one way out for herself. 

But that would be unforgiving, wouldn’t it?

To ruin all Bovis’ chances of winning by finally letting go of him.

A rational but cruel voice in the back of her mind said that he was dead weight now anyways. And maybe, by some wonder, he’d get up by himself, despite his strained ankle. Maybe both of them would be fine, if some wonder happened.

But realistically, it was her or no one.

Just as Ceres had gotten stuck in her own thoughts again, barely being able to focus on her surroundings, she heard a loud crack nearby.

The grip Bovis had held on her hand just seconds before, loosened, and as she turned around, she saw that he was dropping to the floor.

Her frozen, gloved fingers reached for his, but they found only white snow flakes falling from the sky.

For a second, Ceres thought that Bovis could get up on his own, that he would be just fine, but then, she looked down, spotting him having fallen to the ground head first.

The snow around him seemed to be coloured red now, and though Ceres knew that his cannon had not sounded yet, that he was still alive, and that the wound was probably not that deep, she couldn’t risk reaching her hands out for him. 

The snow, the avalanche, it would catch up with her, and Ceres’ heart was pounding in her chest.

For her, there were two options now; either die trying to get Bovis off the ground, or make a run for her own safety and maybe even surviving that.

Ceres could get away, maybe, but that meant leaving Bovis to die, and she didn’t want to break the promise she made long ago. He was, and would always be more deserving to win than her. 

—-------------------------------------------

As Bovis was screaming at the world in agony, Ceres made her decision.

She fled like a coward.

If anything, her ally could catch up with her later, as his wounds couldn’t be as severe.

A cannon would’ve sounded already, if that were the case, right? 

right.

Ceres couldn’t save Bovis right now, not being able to reach for his hands, but she knew he would make it out just like she would.

But now, with the walls of snow coming closer and closer to her, she couldn’t look back at him, though she knew he was probably still following her.

There was no time to waste, and Ceres had to continue running, even when a cannon suddenly blasted, with all-too familiar screams filling the arena. 

“It’s not him,” Ceres convinced herself, despite feeling such guilt, “It can’t be, he seemed alright…”

Yet again, the sole rational brain cell in her, said that the blood streaming from what was probably his head did not mean anything good at all, but maybe being delusional was for the best.

The cannon that had gone off, was probably Titus or something, or one of those kids from district 2. 

“I didn’t kill him,” She continued, “Even if it was him, which it’s not, it must’ve been someone else,”

Ceres’ mind was a battlefield now, her thoughts constantly turning on each other. Tears, they fell down from her eyes, and a terrible pain formed inside Ceres’ head. She fell silent now, sitting in the snow, as just another cannon sounded. 

“I hope it’s mine,” Ceres stated,

“Must be nice being dead now,” though her panicked breaths and rushed heartbeat indicated that she was still alive. 

perfidy; the state of being deceitful and untrustworthy

Chapter Text

As walls of snow continued to surround the horizon, dyeing the blue skies white, Ceres remained a frozen statue. The world fell silent, and it felt as if the birds from the highest pines in the arena were dropping dead one by one.

The world she’d known had disappeared before her, and there was nothing left but a barren wasteland. 

There was no mockingjay, bidding her farewell, nor was there anyone else. Ceres was all alone in her palace of snow, the walls rapidly moving towards her.

Just minutes ago, she had hopes that Bovis would catch up with her again after he’d fallen head first in the snow, but of course he never did. She shouldn’t have let go of him, not like that, she shouldn’t have abandoned him.

For a cannon had sounded when she’d started to run away, following her only remaining instinct; survival. 

For some reason, Ceres had not been dead-set on dying yet at that point, but the moment she’d paused, all her worst feelings had kicked in.

“I’m sorry,” She’d finally spoken, soft enough that the cameras could barely hear it,

“I’m sorry for still being alive, it should’ve been you,” 

And now, it seemed as if Ceres were the only one left at the end of the world, and she didn’t have long to live either. The snow was going to smother her soon, just like her mother had always done. She was long gone, and nobody would mourn her, not even Saturn.

Saturn, oh how she was still faced with uncertainty every time she’d thought about him, how she’d longed to come back to him and rebuild their friendship like new…

Ceres called out to the sky, desperately asking for help while attempting to run from the clouds of snow. The silence remained; there was no one going to save her now. 

Suddenly however, a figure emerged from the white, its black eyes being the only colour in the ever-blinding sea of snow.

It didn’t take long for Ceres to recognise it as a polar bear, and she attempted to run away, knowing that her death was definitely set in stone now. 

But instead of blatantly attacking her like Ceres was the polar bear’s next meal, the animal lowered its back, allowing the girl to sit on it as he started running, far away from the destructive snow.

She was surprised, seeing as the polar bear was still a wild animal, and would otherwise rip her apart in seconds. He was not supposed to help her, to save her life.

But now, with no other options left, Ceres let herself get carried by the bear, holding onto him tightly while trying not to strike him with her sickle.

They moved through the landscape quickly, the curtain of snow seeming to be farther and farther away from them, until they reached the golden cornucopia from which all the white hills diverged. 

The polar bear lowered its back again, prompting Ceres to get off him and find shelter in the horn.

Quickly, she ran towards the structure, still holding onto her sickle tightly.

The girl let go of her backpack, knowing that she was probably not going to need it much longer and it only functioned as extra weight now.

Because of the noise that the avalanche was still making, she hadn’t heard how many cannons had sounded exactly, or how many of the others were left, but it was likely that most tributes wouldn’t have been able to get away in time. 

Still, no trumpets sounded, so she was not the only one left, and a hint of fear lingered in the back of Ceres’ mind. She didn’t know why. It was so easy to just give in and die now, as there was nothing left fighting for.

Why was she afraid of her own demise? Why couldn’t she just greet death like an old friend? Was it the Capitol, demanding one more great show from her?

Or was there something, or someone, that kept her from ascending into the skies?

Let it play out then, that final masquerade, I’ll show them what it was worth, I’ll show them how broken I am, Ceres thought, but she didn’t dare speaking her thoughts out loud.

—-------------------------------

Ceres realised that the cornucopia was completely empty, as she approached it with cautious steps. Even the countless supplies that had once been stacked in there, were long gone. It only brought protection against the snow now, which was a gift she gladly took. 

The girl sat down on the cold ground, leaning her back against the golden wall. It was surprisingly hot, probably because of the sun that had reflected on it for hours, and Ceres let herself relax for a moment.

No one was going to attack her here, as they were probably in a much worse state that she was in.

Ceres tied her hair back again, in the same two ponytails that she’d entered the arena with, and realised that, while she probably didn’t look that different from the girl who had stood on her platform, waiting for the games to begin, she’d still changed an awful lot.

How she’d wanted to give her life for her ally Bovis, how she became so selfish yet lost all remaining control over herself.

But a small part of Ceres also blamed herself for actively wanting to be in these games before.

Now, with all that she’d seen, she supposed she’d rather have lived with her mother for another ten years, wanting her life to be normal again. The bruises would be worth it, would even be comforting compared to all this, maybe.

Ceres held her head in her hands, crying into her sweaty, blood-stained gloves. She finally let out her emotions that had stacked for weeks properly, though her promise of not showing weakness had been broken.

But was that the worst? If Ceres would die either way, then why not in agony?

Suddenly, Ceres felt someone else’s warmth pressed against her, and for a second she thought that the polar bear had returned, and she was unsure as to what to do with that.

But instead, the person sitting next to her was a bewildered girl her age, the snot-green accents on her jacket indicating that she was Stella from district 1. 

But Stella looked nothing like the confident girl Ceres had seen on stage during the interviews, which seemed like an eternity ago now.

She’d been so pretty back then, with her snow-coloured curls draped over her shoulder and her sexy, blood-red dress. 

Now, however, her hair seemed to be hastily cut off just above her shoulders, looking quite a lot like Ceres’, and her face was scarred, with pus streaming out of her left, almost blinded eye.

It was safe to say that Ceres was better off, at least physically.

Nobody in the Capitol would want Stella anymore, which just about improved Ceres’ chances, considering that the hunger games were a popularity game more than anything. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that yet. 

Ceres thought about grabbing her sickle, getting it over with and winning, but the almost thundering sound from outside of the cornucopia made her hesitate.

She shivered, and felt that Stella did the same, even hearing some tears from her side.

Ceres had never been good at comforting people, no matter how much she’d tried, because they would all die either way, and she couldn’t save them even if she wanted to, but this time, she tried. 

Stella leaned her head against Ceres’ shoulder, and that prompted her to smoothen the other girl’s hair.

Stella was crying, and couldn’t stop, but Ceres just tried to get her to shut up, to appeal to the cameras, so she started talking, hoping that the words wouldn’t let her meet her end;

“I never wanted to win,”

Ceres spoke bitterly, the sentence leaving her mind. It was the truth; she came here to die, though that thought might’ve changed later on,

“In all honesty, I don’t know why I’m even still alive. Your ally should’ve gotten to me in the bloodbath, and then everything would’ve been fine. Then someone more deserving could’ve won,”

Those were dangerous words to speak, and Ceres knew that Stella probably wouldn’t hesitate to strike if there was an opening.

“Instead,”

Ceres continued, fidgeting with the oven-baked sunflower necklace that she’d long forgotten about;

“I killed them. I killed all of your friends, and more. I couldn’t even save my own ally; I killed him too,”

Regret filled Ceres’ mind, and she closed her eyes to prevent the tears from streaming down her cheeks.

Stella was now looking at her, her sapphire eyes bright as ever.

“They were never my friends, just acquaintances that were needed. It’s tradition, you know?”

Her tone wasn’t as sharp as it used to be, instead sounding lifeless and flat,

“I’ve never had friends. Allies? Sure, but really the only thing that has kept me from killing myself was the thought of earning my district’s acceptance. And now that’s gone too. There’s no way they’d want me back after the disappointing performance I’ve put on. I don’t deserve the crown anymore, and I never will,” 

“My district’ll hate me too,” Ceres replied, “My actions killed 6, no 7 people. They don’t like murderers where I’m from, and they certainly hate the way I killed them,”

Stella lifted her head, opening her mouth; “How did you do it?”

To that, Ceres showed the other girl her bloodied sickle, directing the blade towards her own throat.

“If you push hard enough, the head flies off,” 

A short, bitter laugh left Ceres’ mouth, as she was trying to cope with what she’d done.

It was much harder admitting her sins to someone else than it had been actually committing them. But Stella didn’t seem afraid of her, instead clapping her hands, slowly. 

“You’d have made such a great volunteer for my district, Ceres,” Stella spoke, “Wish we could swap,”

Ceres nodded at that, surprised that the other girl had actually taken the time to learn her name.

“I’m scared,” The volunteer continued as the snow seemed to push against the cornucopia. Stella started to cry again, and this time Ceres put her hands around the girl, leaving her sickles hanging loosely on her belt.

She didn’t have to be the villain this time, not yet.

“Do you think we’re the only ones out here now?”

Ceres questioned, but Stella’s continuous sobs provided her with little information.

“We must be, I mean, whoever hasn’t made it to the cornucopia is probably dead now anyways,” 

It remained silent for a long moment, and Stella didn’t let Ceres leave the embrace they’d found each other in.

“We’re the last ones left in this barren land,” Stella spoke, poetically, “I don’t mind, in fact, I prefer it to stay that way,” 

She never elaborated on that.

—-----------------------------

Suddenly, the noise stopped, and the snow around the two girls started to melt, revealing the most beautiful rainbow of flowers that Ceres had ever seen, covering the cornucopia’s floor.

2 more cannons sounded, bringing the total amount of tributes down to just two; Stella and Ceres. 

“Soon it’ll be spring again,”

Ceres recalled herself saying to one of her victims.

Back then, the thought of the warmth returning to the earth seemed impossible, but now that the air was filled with the scent of flowers and newborn hope, she was glad to have at least seen that promise get fulfilled. It was the least Ceres could’ve hoped for.

“We’ve got to fight,”

Stella spoke as Ceres was still amazed by spring’s glory,

“They want a show,” The district 1 girl mouthed. Ceres just nodded, opening her thick coat to let in some air. 

“I understand,” She replied, “Time for the final show,”

Ceres readied her sickle, and grabbed her other blade from her belt, ready to fight.

She pointed to the top of the cornucopia, prompting her opponent to climb to the top of the structure.

Ceres followed, attempting to reach the top even faster than Stella would, so that she could at least claim that small victory.

She was petty, thinking that those actions were really important, but that didn’t matter. The moment of weakness she had experienced just a few minutes ago, admitting all her biggest secrets to Stella, had long been forgotten.

And her sadness had been replaced by confidence and the feeling that she was meant to do something greater. 

It was strange, seeing as Ceres had wanted to die just hours ago, but now, she needed to survive, or at least prove herself worthy to anyone watching, especially if Stella couldn’t manage that. 

Stella… With both girls now standing on top of the cornucopia, their blades readied and their eyes cold, Ceres was left wondering who would strike first.

She’d love to just be able to slit her opponents throat quickly, like she’d done with so many of her other victims, but the way she’d had such a heartfelt conversation just a few minutes ago, made that almost impossible. 

Ceres looked around her once more, the hills, covered up with half-molten snow, cluttering up her vision, and she decided that she was not going to die here.

But Stella had other plans…

—----------------------------

The girl who had huddled against Ceres inside of the cold cornucopia, as both were searching refuge from the curtain of snow covering the arena, was no more.

Instead, Stella stood on top of the cornucopia, holding a tight grip on her sword.

Her face barely managed to capture her professionalism, instead revealing genuine sadness as she faced her final opponent.

She was done with this, all of it. Stella didn’t want the crown anymore, not when she had already lost everything else, but she had to put on a show, had to make her district proud for once. She was not going to be a disappointment like Bella, she wasn’t going to let them down.

Because her district was all she had left. 

Ceres came into the arena with the intention to die, to escape from her district, her old life, her mother, but as the days passed, she had realised how desperately she sought for a future.

The games were not worth dying in, she knew that at last.

Ceres desperately held onto the sickles in both her hands, trying not to flinch at the amount of blood, that of her innocent victims, that had stained on the blades.

She had to be quicker, better, faster than the trained volunteer in front of her, and a small but reckless part of herself believed she was the best. That no one could defeat her.

Death was inevitable, in the end, but she’d rather kill herself than die at the hands of someone else. That was the pride that had managed to stick with her for all those years of being let down by her own mother.

Stella attacked first, striking her sword against Ceres’ more emaciated chest.

The coat was thick, but still, the blade managed to draw blood. Ceres groaned, an almost animalistic sound leaving her throat, yet she quickly tried to reestablish herself.

She was not an innocent prey like the rabbits she’d killed for food, and she had to show the Capitol that she was better than that.

She raised her sickle, slicing through Stella’s hair while trying to go for her throat. Some blonde, almost white strands fell to the ground, and as the blade had managed to injure the girl’s ear, the hair was drenched in blood.

“Do you really think you can win this?”

Stella dared to ask Ceres, as if trying to come over as intimidating.

Pathetic, as if she hadn’t just spent her time crying in Ceres’ arms. Hell, at least Ceres didn’t underestimate Stella’s skills, admitting that they both had their strengths and weaknesses. 

Ceres laughed in response, rolling her eyes; “And for what are you asking that? A real victor shouldn’t have to doubt their own skills,”

The audience would like that answer, as it would add to her image, but only if she won of course. Otherwise, Ceres would become a one-dimensional antagonist, trying to take the crown from district 1’s ‘golden beauty’. 

Stella attacked again, this time even more brutally, as if she was desperate, slicing open the already-formed wound on Ceres’ chest even further. 

A muffled scream filled with anger and pain followed, and though her senses faded a bit, though Ceres knew she was going to die, she used all the last remaining power in her body to direct the sickle to the other girl’s throat.

Filled with pure desperation, not necessarily only anger, she succeeded in opening a new wound, blood squirting out of Stella’s artery, staining Ceres’ weakened body even more. 

Ceres continued hacking at the other girl’s throat, though her own body was already dropping to the floor with Stella’s beneath her, her legs being unable to hold up. 

Ceres could barely breathe, air coming out of that wide hole in her chest every time she wanted to fill her lungs, but she didn’t stop holding onto her sickles, just wanting to get this over with.

The last sight Ceres registered before her world faded to black, was that of Stella’s head, detached from her body, and she knew it was all over now.

A loud sound followed, but Ceres couldn’t move her legs anymore, frozen as they were, and she lay down on top of the golden cornucopia, as if she was already dead, as if this place would be her grave. 

This was it then; the end.

—-----------------------------------------

Chapter Text

 I. alis volat propriis 

Ceres was a bird, a bird flying higher and higher towards the sun, escaping the cold, endless winter beneath her.

Weakened as she was, she couldn’t use her own golden wings properly, but an omnipotent force pulled her up to the warm gates of heaven.

Her golden, shimmering wings were unable to be spread, though Ceres still flew, far away from her sorrow.

“The ones who go high are more likely to fall down,”

Someone called out, though Ceres couldn’t recall the face attached to the words anymore. Had it been repeated from her own, fractured memory, or did the words appear out of sheer imagination?

“Hubris,” she could vaguely recall,  “Excessive pride.”

Somewhere, these words had to be connected, but Ceres failed to make sense of the jigsaw puzzle that had been placed in front of her, because most of the missing pieces were nowhere to be found. 

Ceres was a bird, flying in the sky, lonely as ever.

Instinctively, she flew towards the warmth; the place where the sun must be, wanting the golden rays of light to cast upon her frozen skin. 

When the girl opened her eyes again, her lashes almost clutched together by blood or tears- she couldn’t tell which of the two options it was- she could only see screams of ink- ink black.

Darkness followed her around, and Ceres’ golden wings withered before her. The pain that had split her body in half, moments ago, didn’t cease. It kept burning inside her chest, and Ceres’ already fragile world collapsed.

Ceres wasn’t a bird anymore, nor was she flying. Instead, she existed, though her remains had transformed into stardust. Soon, the aurorae would take her even higher up, to a place she could rest.

Finally.

 II. memento mori

A violin, playing death’s song in the dark.

A silhouette becoming clearer with every breath Ceres took. The man’s- no, he couldn’t be older than 18, so just a boy- the boy’s hair shining like spun gold in the light.

Ceres walked towards the golden boy, her trail of snow following behind her, and her own figure colliding with the light. The boy didn’t miss a beat, nor did he turn to face her.

When Ceres touched his shoulder, carefully, the music stopped abruptly. The boy, whose golden eyes made Ceres realise that he was Harvest, her district partner, suddenly dropped his face to the ink floor.

The decapitated head made a loud, horrible sound, and Ceres let out an agonising scream.

For some reason, her broken heart was suddenly filled with guilt.

Ceres turned her head away from the scene, her choppy, ebony hair falling before her eyes, and she was faced with a room full of the most dull white she had ever seen.

In front of her, countless unrecognisable figures stood, all neatly ordered in a row.

A light bulb enlightened the foremost person even more, her copper braid flowing over her shoulder. 

The girl was wearing a delicate, golden clock on her neck, and her amaranth-coloured dress was dancing wildly in the sudden breeze. Her blue eyes were warm as ever, and her hand seemed to reach out for Ceres’.

It was Seia. Ceres had missed her best friend ever since she had died in the games, and now it seemed as if she was bound to the same fate, which she gladly accepted.

If only it could cease her pain…

But just as Ceres attempted to wrap her fingers around Seia’s, willing to leave her world behind her, the girl seemed to fall apart in countless different pieces. Stars.

“It’s not your time yet…” Seia’s mouth formed before it dissolved as well.

The other figures, who had all waited behind Seia, marched on, a faint song harmonising with their almost Peacekeeper-like steps.

Their heads, which Ceres recognised as belonging to her fellow tributes, dropped to the floor, like Harvest’s had done moments ago, and Ceres’ bloodied sickle, that had appeared out of thin air into her cold hands, had been been responsible for carving open each of their mutilated bodies. 

A shadow nudged Ceres’ shoulder swiftly, and the girl’s feet were frozen to the ground.

“You did this to them,” It whispered, the words piercing through Ceres’ body like one of her own sickles, “You killed them all,”

It echoed, over and over and over again. 

Ceres turned around towards the direction of the voice, and she locked eyes with the reflection of her former innocence, which was dressed in an almost ethereal white gown.

“You did this to yourself…” 

Everything faded away again.

 III. dum spiro, spero

Breathe in.

breathe out.

in. out.

in. out.

in. out.

A faint song reminded Ceres of the fact that she wasn’t dead yet.

The woman who sang it seemed far away, unreachable.

Although the notes seemed to be rough, and the singer didn’t quite know how to control her breathing, Ceres could catch a motherly love shining through the “Do-do-do’s” and the unrecognisable words. 

Before her inevitable return to the dark, Ceres had had visions of a future flashing before her eyes.

A nice person, whether it was a guy or a girl didn’t matter, would grow old with her, and they would walk through the endless fields of her dearly-beloved district together. Maybe they could adopt a cat, maybe they could get children, and maybe- just maybe- Ceres’ deeply rooted wounds would start to heal again. 

Ceres had dreams, actual plans for the future, though not as many as the others might’ve had.

They could come true, perhaps, if she were to wake up again.

Maybe she could escape the glass cage in the cold forest she was trapped in, maybe her chains that had affirmed her mortality would break open, and she could start to hope for a second chance in life.

 IV. per aspera ad astra

“I’ve had it with you lot!,”

Someone, maybe from an uncharted memory, spoke out, “Perverts, that’s what you are,”

The hatred in the heavily accented voice was vibrant red, but the words didn't seem to be directed to Ceres at all.

Suddenly, the girl was transported to a dark room, reminiscent of the one she grew up in, and an ink-black person announced her presence, her claws crawling under Ceres’ bare skin.

“Pervert,” Ceres dared to whisper, repeating the words of the other person in the distance.

The monster Her mother grabbed Ceres by her ponytail, which appeared to be as long as it was before the games again.

“How exactly did you call me, you ungrateful child?” The monster taunted, “You should enjoy this, since it’s what you asked for,” 

Ceres wished she had a gun, or anything to defend herself with, but her childhood innocence hadn’t disappeared at this point in her mind yet.

She must’ve been young then, possibly not even of reaping age, if this vision had indeed been from a memory. 

A ruler slashed Ceres’ vision, fuming white, and she attempted to run off to her friend’s house, her footsteps appearing in the dirty snow.

There was no one in Seia’s house, not even the ghosts of her grandparents, and Ceres continued to move farther and farther away from mother’s suffocating grasp.

A forest, dense and protecting, led to her salvation; an ancient well, like the one she’d heard of in the one fairy tale Ceres had read, long ago.

“What do you wish for?” A ghost spoke. 

Ceres hesitated, her eyes fixated on the rainbow of thoughts that arose from her mind. In another time, she would’ve begged for money, or food, depending what was tighter in the moment of asking. Later in her short life, she couldn’t cease to think about achieving greatness, recognition. But now that she intuitively knew she had all these things already, she only wanted one thing.

“A life worth living,”

Ceres spoke, loud and clear.

 V. Panem et circenses

24 platforms had stood in a circle around a structure so golden it had blinded Ceres’ eyes. 

From the bloody snow, a lone survivor had emerged. 

Grim and silent, the figure now walked out of the shadows, a trail of the most vibrant crimson red followed behind. She carried her sins with her, her shoulders almost succumbing to the weight of it, but still she stood tall and prideful. 

She was a victor, dead nor alive, but a victor nonetheless.

Ceres had seen many games before, some that were more gruesome than others, but she only had the pleasure of participating in one.

She wondered how long she must’ve been sleeping on the cold tundra ground, and if Bovis had been the one to finally put her to sleep.

Around her, whispers and murmurs filled the air with an anxious atmosphere.

Soon, Ceres would open her eyes, filling her gaze with an explosion of colour. For some reason, Ceres knew that the games were over. That was, until the very next year at least.

But was she a victor already?

Why didn’t her mind go numb completely yet?

Ceres wanted to open her eyes already, but her lashes seemed as if they were sewed together, and the ink-black still surrounded her horizon. In the middle of her view, the only spot of light Ceres could see, a clock ticked someone’s life away.

It seemed to be 20 ticks away from the collapse, and Ceres brought herself to count every last second. 

20… 19… 18…

Just like the way it had all started, all the commotion, it would end.

17… 16… 15…14…

“She’s alive,”

A faint scream spoke.

13…12…11…

A cry, the sound circling around Ceres’ head like a halo, becoming clearer as seconds passed.

10…9…8…

Her heartbeat, aching in her chest as if she’d just reset her life’s system.

7…6…5…

Flashes, the unignorable presence of strangers.

4…

“After two weeks, it has finally happened!,” 

3…

“We’re so proud of her,” Veles spoke.

2…1…

The thread keeping Ceres’ eyes from opening loosened.

∅

Ceres opened her eyes, sudden lights filling her gaze.

—---------------------------------------------------

VI. carpe diem

“And now we can say for certain who the victor of the 67th Hunger Games is,”

A loud voice blasted through Ceres’ eardrums, “District 9’s deadly, but lovely Ice Queen; Ceres Grist!”