— 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐱 —

━━━━━━ ☽【❖】☾ ━━━━━━

I narrowly avoided the blow meant for my neck, rolling along the ground to my right. The sword clanged against the rock wall overhead and for a brief second I caught a glimpse of my life flash in the reflected light of the steel blade.

I scrambled backward, trying to find my footing before my opponent could take advantage of my momentary weakness. I snatched my own sword which had clattered to the ground a few inches to the left following my last minute dive. I was more familiar with the weapon than I cared to admit, and why shouldn't I be since I'd spent the last three weeks training with it.

I brushed a few stray hair out of my eyes, loosely tucking them behind my ears since they refused to remain with the rest of my braid. I focused on my breath, and slowing down just enough to act and think at the same time.

Romulus slowly turned to face me. His eyes shining two separate colors in the light as they looked at me with disappointment. Without the need to utter a word, I knew our sparring session was over.

Frustrated, I huffed and a few of those stubborn red strands flopped back into my eyes. I swore the corner of his lip twitched almost like he wanted to smile, but he masked the action well. He leaned his sword against the wall then approached, physically correcting one or two flaws with my form before stepping back to observe further back.

"Let's go over your swing technique again."

"My technique is fine," I corrected. "You said it was practically perfect this morning. I'm just tired."

"Is that why you hesitated?" he asked, finally addressing the unspoken elephant. "I was vulnerable and you didn't take advantage of an opportunity to make a killing strike."

"Which doesn't mean there's anything wrong with my technique," I agreed.

"There's still enough room between perfect and practically perfect to get you killed," he countered.

"Alright, we'll go again," I said, lifting my sword to enter a ready position.

Romulus shook his head. "You're tired. You need rest. You've been at this for the past twenty-four hours. Meaning I've been awake for the past twenty-four hours."

"I need to be ready," I insisted. "I can do this."

"Swing a sword? Hold your own in a fight?" Romulus questioned rhetorically. "That I have no doubt you can do. It's what happens at the end of all this that has me worried."

I slowly lowered my sword. My expression of confidence fell, revealing the cracks of insecurity beneath. "You don't think I have what it takes."

"Honestly. No." He didn't hesitate to agree. "I don't think you have the ability to take someone's life."

"Then you don't know me very well," I contradicted. My tone was bitter as I crossed my arms, keeping my sword pointed at the ground.

"You're right," he agreed again. "I don't know everything about you. But today marks the start of the ninth week we've spent trapped in this frozen wasteland, and three weeks since you rescued me from the brink of death. How many tributes have you taken out yourself?"

I was silent. He spoke only the truth. There were six of us left and I hadn't taken a single life. We'd fought off several different muttations since the beginning of the games, but even those I hadn't killed but merely injured. I'd relied on others to make the killing blow in my stead.

"You said you poisoned your opponent during your private sparring session observed by the gamemakers, but you have yet to even consider that an option," Romulus continued, stepping closer to take my sword and point the tip of the blade toward his own chest while leaving the hilt in my hands. "So no, I don't believe you have what it takes... but you're welcome to prove me wrong."

My brow furrowed and my eyes widened with horror. "I'm not going to kill you, Romulus."

"You'll have to eventually, Juneaux," Romulus contradicted. He pressed his chest further against the point of the blade, just to the point where a small hole was torn through his shirt. "There can only be one survivor, and we both know you've chosen the cherub."

"Harlan deserves to live."

"And the rest of us don't?" Romulus questioned my logic. "Who's going to help him survive, Juneaux? Rena certainly won't. And you think Rex will stop at anything to keep his sister alive? You've seen how he sits at her side while she sleeps, watching over her to protect her from whatever dangers the gamemakers might throw."

"Rex is my ally," I contradicted, sputtering while grasping at straws. My hands loosened from around the hilt. But Romulus only pressed closer, keeping the force between us constant. "He's protected us and kept us alive, even when he had the chance to leave us behind."

"But for how long?" Romulus asked. He laughed, half-bitter and half-incredulous. "How long until you realize that you have no friends in this arena? You don't believe it, but Rex has the instincts of a survivor. I know he'll do what's necessary to survive. We're similar. He and I."

I fervently shook my head. "You come from different worlds. You were coddled by wealth then forged into a machine. How many lives have you taken since you stepped foot in this arena? How many tributes have you slaughtered without reason? No. Rex is not like you. He's a protector, not a murderer."

"And what about the boy from district seven?" Romulus countered. "If your protector is so gallant why is his bloodshed any different?"

I could feel my face heating with every second that passed. With every moment he defamed the tribute I'd come to consider more than just an ally but a friend. None of this was fair. Not at all. My grasp around the hilt had tightened. I was beginning to consider shoving the blade through his sternum. It'd be easy. He'd make it feel easy as every word uttered from his lips made my blood boil. And then I realized his intention.

With wide eyes, I stepped back and dropped the hilt. The sword clattered to the ground and he stumbled to regain his balance as there was nothing to hold him back anymore.

"I'm not going to kill you," I reiterated. "You can say whatever hurtful things you'd like, and you can try to make me mad, but you won't change my mind."

He was shocked, standing in a stupor as he searched for words which would not come. "You—you—you—"

"I'm going to get Harlan out of here," I reaffirmed, watching as he dropped to his knees, "but when I die, I'd like to go out with a cleansed soul and a heart that's only mine... not some twisted machination of the capitol."

His eyes remained on the ground. However, I noticed his posture stiffened as his hand wrapped around the sword's hilt and lifted it an inch from the ground. The metal echoed as it slid across the stone ground.

"You foolish girl," his lips uttered. Then he lunged.

My eyes widened and I once more rolled to the side, swiping up a pair of daggers from the pile of weapons kept near the entrance of the chamber.

And then I realized during all of our training and sparring sessions that the boy in front of me had been going easy. He did not show the same courtesy now. Our blades clanged against one another as he swung with wild strength, but enough composure to control the strike of each blow.

"You're no goddess, and you're no queen of the heavens!" Romulus shouted, increasing his volume with each swing. "You're a scared child playing pretend with delusions of survival. You don't control your fate! To the gamemakers we're all pawns, equal on the playing field. There are no kings and there are no queens, just one sole victor who will be crowned in gold and blood."

"Romulus, stop," I pleaded, my breath growing heavier with each blow I blocked. One of my daggers went flying from my hand. Where it had gone, I couldn't tell you, I was too preoccupied defending my own life. He hadn't been wrong earlier. I was exhausted and sleep-deprived. An awful combination for stamina and endurance.

"Fight!" Romulus snarled. "Fight back!"

"I won't kill you!" I gasped between breaths.

"Then you'll die," his voice was a cold whisper, caught in a moment of time where we were still in combat. I'd blocked his blow, but instead of recharging another, he remained strong and pressed his blade against mine with the intention of slitting my throat with my own weapon. "And then when you're gone maybe I'll kill the kid. Maybe I'll just kill the rest of your little alliance to prove a point!"

My teeth were clenched as I seethed, not with rage but concentration as I fought against his strength. Now I wasn't sure what to think. Had he played me all along? Was I just a tool he used to live and fight another day? Yet if he wanted me dead, wouldn't I already be bleeding out on the floor? He'd shown no hesitance with any other tribute.

"Alright, you win." With a cry of exerted effort, I drove my knee up into his groin and shoved him back. I located my second dagger on the ground and scooped it into the palm of my hand without delay, then turned to face him.

He'd recovered quicker than I expected—that or he was just masking the pain. I flipped the daggers in my hands simultaneously, just as he'd taught me in our first lesson. It was to prove a point that I was no longer the inexperienced girl that I'd been three weeks ago, nor was I as naive as nine weeks ago. I'd had to adapt in the arena, but in a way where I still remained me. Juneaux Kirchoff was no longer just a farm girl from district nine, but a protector of all those under her care... even those who fought against it.

"Fight me," Romulus spat.

"I'll fight," I agreed, "but I'm fighting for you."

He released a frustrated cry of indignation then charged again. And despite how enraged Romulus either was—or was pretending to be—this fight was more enjoyable than those that had come before it. I felt challenged to be better than I'd ever considered and prove myself capable of the one thing I needed to protect the most.

However, the longer we fought, the more tired I grew. My strokes were less refined and each block was more and more delayed. And then he did something I hadn't seen coming.

I gasped and seethed with pain as he dropped below my last swing just long enough to avoid it before jumping back to his feet and slicing me with his blade. His momentum carried him forward and he stopped a few inches behind me, dropping to a knee.

Slowly, he turned his head back toward me. I winced, glancing down at the deep cut on my arm as a few drops of blood fell to the ground. I'd need a few stitches probably, but it certainly wasn't life threatening. My adrenaline was rushing though and pride coursed through my veins with the recognition that I'd lasted longer than ever before. I beamed, but my expression faltered as I met Romulus's multi-colored gaze.

His eyes trembled, his lip quivered, and his hands shook. The blade fell from his hand and clattered against the ground while he remained frozen in place.

"Romulus?" I asked, drawing nearer while reaching out a hand with concern.

He recoiled before I could touch him, scrambling to his feet with abject horror plastered to his face. His voice escaped in a faint whisper. "I cut you."

"It's alright," I insisted. "That was amazing! Do you think you could teach—"

"I cut you," he repeated, only slightly louder. He was speaking to me, but his eyes remained trained on the gash in my arm. They still trembled, vibrating back and forth imperceptibly. And suddenly it was like he wasn't just talking to me.

"Romulus?" I asked again, gently grabbing him by the arm. It was enough to break whatever trance was holding him captive as his eyes met mine. My concern remained while a soft smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "I'm alright. It will heal."

"What the hell happened?!" Rex exclaimed, storming into the room to meet us in the center. Clearly the commotion of our spar attracted his attention. "Juneaux, you're bleeding!"

"I'm fine," I insisted, disregarding Rex's concern. "We were sparring and the blade slipped."

"That's not what it looks like," Rex contradicted as he gestured to the blood streaming down my arm to pool around my feet.

He didn't hesitate to tear around the hem of his shirt and wrap the fabric around my arm. I winced as the cloth rubbed against the wound, immediately soaking through the cloth and staining it a dark red.

"Have Harlan help you clean the wound before you stitch it up," Rex instructed.

"We're not done here," I tried to protest, despite how much I appreciated the gesture. "Romulus was going to teach me a new technique—"

"You should get that tended to," Romulus interrupted, agreeing with Rex. "I can show you later. You need rest."

Slowly, I nodded my head, glancing between the two tributes who had changed so much from the first day I'd met them. Rex stood taller, and his posture was more tense—especially now when he'd discovered my minor injury. Although he'd loosened up a little around Romulus, it was evident the two were still very much at odds.

Romulus looked exhausted. True, he had more color in his face than when we started nursing him back to health, but he was nowhere near as strong as when he proudly rode his chariot during the tribute parade nor was he as arrogant as his persona during Caesar's interviews.

It almost made me wonder how each of them perceived me in comparison to my first impression. Had I lived up to the expectations of the crown the Capitol placed on my head or had I fallen flat?

Begrudgingly, I agreed with their advice, leaving my daggers with the other weapons as I left the room to find Harlan. I wandered down the stone corridors into the furthest open chamber at the back of the cavern that we'd designated the infirmary.

Harlan was watching over Honey who had yet to show signs of improvement. Despite the medicine we applied and offered to treat the poison of Rena's daggers, Honey only seemed to get worse. Little beads of sweat currently dotted her forehead as she rustled in her sleep.

"She should be better by now," Harlan said, speaking to me without ever turning around. We spent enough time together to know when the other was near. "Why isn't she getting better?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Romulus and I recovered after about a week and a half. It doesn't make sense to me either."

"You think Romulus is making her sick?" Harlan asked, almost as if making an accusation.

I couldn't help but laugh, thinking he was joking. "What? No. We've been keeping a close eye on him, remember?"

"She should be better by now," Harlan insisted.

I softened, wrapping my arms around him in a comforting hug. "I know, but maybe she just needs a little more time."

Harlan was silent. As his back was to me, I couldn't tell what he was thinking without seeing his face. The boy wore his emotions on his sleeve despite how hard he tried to be brave. I felt his tears fall onto my hands a moment later.

"Oh, Harlan," I quietly whispered, turning the boy around to face me.

"I want to go home," Harlan admitted, gentle tears streaming down his stained face. "I'm tired of the cold, and I'm tired of being afraid to sleep. I've tried to be brave for you, Juneaux, I really have."

"I know," I replied, keeping him close. "I'm going to get you home."

"But I don't want to be left alone," Harlan quietly added, much to my surprise. "I don't want to lose you too."

My heart broke. I'd forgotten how I'd be leaving the boy once I ensured he won. Romulus wasn't wrong when he said there could only be one. I gently put a bit of space between us then placed my hand over his heart. "I'll always be with you. But you have a family to get home to, and your sister."

Harlan shook his head, eyes pointed toward the ground. "My sister died in the fields two years ago during the harvest. She couldn't hear the plow coming and I didn't reach her in time..."

"You didn't mention this before," I concealed most of my surprise, but I understood his grief more than maybe anyone else. Because to lose a sibling is to lose a piece of yourself. "You said I reminded you of her..."

He slowly nodded his head. "She was kind, like you. And she understood me better than anyone else. She gave the best hugs and she had the warmest smile... We were twins, which is why I thought we were so close. But then I met you, and it was like I had her back."

I smiled, my own eyes watering as I nodded along. "What was her name?"

"Linette."

"That's a beautiful name."

"Juneaux?"

"Hmm..."

"What was your brother like?"

"Why don't we let Honey rest here?" I suggested. "I'll tell you all about him on a walk to the cavern mouth."

Harlan nodded his head, the soft smile I'd grown so fond now slowly appearing on his face. He took my hand, which I moved around his shoulder as we walked. There was the soft echo of water dripping somewhere along the moist cavern, but everything else was silent in respect of our voices.

"Where do I start?" I rhetorically asked. "Marcus was alot like you. He was my light. My family didn't have much growing up—I suppose no one in the district really does—but I knew we'd be alright as long as we had each other."

"Marcus was reaped too, wasn't he?"

I nodded my head, holding back my own tears at the memories. "Yes. He was also twelve and he didn't have anyone else looking out for him... But he was brave like you and he tried his best to come home to me."

"I'm not brave," Harlan contradicted, his eyes drifting to the ground as we grew nearer to the mouth of the cavern.

I quickly shook my head, bending down to his level before tilting his chin so that he could look me in the eye. "You're the bravest kid I know, Harlan. Bravery isn't about never being scared, it's about how you confront that fear. You haven't backed down from a challenge thrown our way. You inspire me."

"Really?" There was a small light of hope shining in his eyes.

"Yeah, you inspire me," I repeated with a smile as I turned to look out at the view.

Throughout our time in the arena, our group had found three different caverns to use as shelter. The first had been underground. The second was up in the mountains. And the third was hidden behind a frozen waterfall. Only now it was no longer frozen.

You'd think we would've heard the roar of the waterfall since even a conversation shouldn't have blocked out that noise. You'd be right because the true fact of the matter was that there wasn't a waterfall at all anymore.

My eyes widened with surprise and so did Harlan's as we looked out at the view before us. We'd been expecting a frozen wasteland, but there wasn't a spec of snow or ice to be seen for miles. In fact, even the river had dried up and much of the vegetation had died. My eyes drifted upward, only to be immediately blinded by the brilliant sun overhead. Apparently, while we'd taken shelter to recover and train, the gamemakers had something else in store.

The forest that we'd come to know over the last two months had all but vanished as a desert wasteland had eagerly replaced one extreme temperature with another. Already the two of us were beginning to sweat from the heat bearing down on us at the entrance of the cavern—and we were only wearing our lightest layer of clothing.

"What's going on?" Harlan asked in confusion.

"I think the gamemakers have decided it's time for the games to end," I replied. The gut-wrenching feeling forming in the pit of my stomach only confirmed my theory as we could feel the finale drawing closer.

━━━━━━ ☽【❖】☾ ━━━━━━

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | Here we go! Chapter one of the final act has started with a bang. As always don't forget to vote and I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments! Thanks for reading!