CHAPTER THIRTY;
the real game

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     The Capitol's bullet train slices through District Five's countryside like an arrow through air. Inside one of the plush carriages, Vesper sits contemplatively, and alone. One elbow propped on the armrest of her chair, her legs crossed. It's easier to relax in this outfit than some of her previous ones. To send her off, Benedict has dressed her in a knee-length black dress (like District Six's attire) with gold accents (for victory), complete with some modest rustic brown heels. Her lightly curled hair retains its volume on her shoulders and down her back, two gold clips in the front, all of it framing her lightly made-up face. The wishbone necklace sits at her collarbone tucked beneath the fabric. Her own little secret.

Vesper is staring at the armchair opposite her — sunlight illuminates specks of dust on the empty seat.

     Icarus was sat in that exact spot when they first boarded the train. Vesper remembers how he had pondered their fate aloud, sharing his anxieties, but equally how his face had been animated with wonder at the luxurious living space. She sees the way the light reflected in his glassy eyes as his heavy stare reached out the windows. If she looks at the armrests, Vesper can re-envision the way Icarus had rubbed his hands up and down like he was sanding them. So young. So vivid. So alive.

But now... silence.

Vesper is trying to make peace with it. That could take years, if she ever gets there. But she knows Icarus would want her to at least try. So for him, she sits here and blocks out her guilt for the time being.

For the first time in a long time, she is looking towards her future.

It is the only vast thing ahead of her now. Before Vesper knows it, she will be home. She will see Blythe and her friends again... and Axel. In mid-August, she will turn seventeen. She will move into the Victor's Village, Irma and Dale now her new neighbours instead of the folks she knows from Vagary. A victory tour in the winter, of course. And then there is the annual debt every victor has to pay — Vesper will have to mentor two tributes from her district and try to bring at least one home. But more than that, she will have to accept the losses.

Only time will tell how she'll handle that.

Still, there are the positives. No more poverty thanks to the Capitol's annual income for her. A big house for her and Blythe to live in together, in the wealthiest part of District Six. She never asked for this. Vesper would almost rather rough it out in the apartments of Vagary, but equally she figures she has no choice in the matter.

And she shouldn't complain. Many people would die for this chance of prosperity.

So, she has decided, she should keep living her life. For her father. For her mother. For Icarus, and those she met along the way. Surely she can bend the Capitol rules a little bit...

A sign blurs past the window in a flurry, but Vesper knows exactly what it means already. Welcome to District Six. Leaving the infinite power lines of District Five, she increasingly starts to recognise the landscape the train zooms past — the tarmac of airfields, large warehouses billowing smoke out from chimneys into the clouds, workers carrying heavy loads on their backs and almost being blown over by the bullet train's trail...

And then, to the side, a sight that makes Vesper suck in a breath. She jumps up to the window and leans toward the glass. A group of young workers running after the train — skinny, grimy, but smiling and laughing — and waving their arms about at the train as if she might wave back. Instantly she remembers being one of them too. How she had run with her friends years ago, trying to outrun the trains in a futile attempt but laughing as they did. Vesper sees their faces in these kids — Axel, Kirk, Cheyenne, Bolt. They're so young. God, they're all so young. She realises that now. Before the Hunger Games, she took her life working young for granted. But now, she can only look at them and think how undeserving they are of this fate. Even if they develop the thick skin for it... they shouldn't have to.

She manages a small wave back. It's unlikely they saw her.

     The whoosh of the carriage door behind Vesper is the only indicator of a visitor. With the silence that follows, it doesn't surprise her when Irma emerges into her periphery. The pair acknowledge other, then stand in silence gazing out the window for a moment.

     "We're almost home," says Irma finally.

     "Yeah..."

     "Your family will be waiting?"

     "Hopefully. And my friends, too..." Vesper swallows thickly, a beat passing. "You know I told you about Axel? Icarus's brother, the one I made that promise to?"

     Irma nods in reminiscence, intently looking at her. I'm listening, she seems to say.

     "He said this thing, before the Peacekeepers separated us. That I shouldn't make promises I can't keep. I think... I finally understand why he said it. The Hunger Games pit all the odds against you. Nothing is safe when you're in them, and Axel knew that better than anyone. It isn't fair, but it's true..." Vesper's jaw tightens as she thinks of what Icarus told her — about his brother losing Fender, and how it might have instilled the grim acceptance that the Hunger Games would simply have the upper hand, no matter how hard Vesper tried.

     It was not her burden to bear.

Sucking in a breath, Vesper finally turns to face Irma, forcing some much-needed optimism. "Still, at least I made out to the other side, right? The Games are over."

But Irma doesn't reassure her like she usually does. Her gentle brown eyes search the victor's face for the best way to say what she's about to.

"... Irma?"

"I have to be honest with you..." says Irma gravely. "The Sixty-Eighth Games are over, yes. But you're still in this for the long haul. It's not just mentoring tributes every year. For the rest of your life, the Capitol can do whatever they want with you, whenever they want. And once you turn eighteen, that's it, that big house in the Victor's Village is yours alone, without your family. It doesn't matter how much of a backbone you have. This is the real game, and it starts right now."

Vesper shakes her head at her in denial, slumping under the weight of the news. No, no, no...

"What if I just don't do what they ask? What if I say no?" she says, raising her chin defiantly.

The colour drains so quickly from Irma's face, she could have sworn she'd been stabbed. "No... you don't want to do that," Irma says firmly, voice sick with worry. "Vesper, you have to just trust me on this. It's not worth it. Promise me you won't do anything stupid?"

Vesper's lips part in surprise at her strong reaction. It's clearly linked to a memory, the way it brings out creases in Irma's forehead she didn't know existed. She knows something. But she seems so desperate that Vesper finds herself nodding to agree. Whatever the punishment is for stepping out of line, she's almost too scared to find out now. Irma herself seems terrified of the prospect — so firmly under the Capitol's thumb, when as a mentor Vesper had seen her as a free spirit different from the rest. Perhaps there is more to know underneath the surface in these years ahead...

The killed conversation leaves a sour taste in the air, so the pair go back to staring out of the window again. Today's weather has arrived at the right time — radiant sunshine with a light breeze, gracing the ground gloriously. Vesper sometimes has to squint every time it bounces off glass windows or a polished vehicle. Their surroundings have started materialising from outskirts to urban, until the train rushed into the dark folds of a tunnel. She can almost hear the hiss against the rails as they pass through at a slower speed.

     And then suddenly, there it is.

     The Epicentre — Permetior. The place where Vesper's name was drawn with Icarus, and the place where she will arrive home once more. She has never been happier to be in the bustling capital of District Six, she realises. Lake Mercury glimmers in the distance as a welcome back. More than anything, Vesper is thankful to see architecture that's rougher around the edges, each brick and windowpane telling a story. It's nice to see it before she'll have to live in the Victor's Village, the gilded cage sealed off from the rest of her home.

     It's been so long...

     "I know," says Irma, and Vesper realises she said that out loud.

     "Any last advice?" she asks, for old time's sake.

     Her mentor-turned-equal contemplates this. Finally, she smiles.

     "Enjoy it," Irma replies. When the victor snorts, she adds, "No, really. Just enjoy it. I know the whole pageantry of it all is strange, but... you don't forget moments like the one you're about to have. Treasure it."

     Raising an eyebrow, Vesper silently absorbs the advice. She tries to reach back into her mind for the moment Irma came back home — it was a cloudier day. They were stood at the back of the endless crowd, so her father lifted her onto his aching shoulders to get a better view. Irma looked so tiny in the distance then; a timid and sensitive teenager, hiding behind her curtain of champagne blonde hair. It was hard to believe this was their victor. At the time, Vesper remembers being selfishly happy that at least District Six could enjoy more wealth than usual for the following year.

     The train starts hissing to a slow halt, the platform materialising outside the window. It's District Six, alright. The sound of high heels trotting along the floorboards draws Vesper's attention to Hermia, who walks through the door just then while fixing her beehive hairdo.

     "Everyone ready?" she asks.

     Irma looks to Vesper, who takes a deep breath and nods.

     Hermia smiles. "Well then... it's showtime."

The three of them walk to the door, but the escort lingers a little further behind. So used to feeling her a few steps behind by now, Vesper whirls around and stares at Hermia in surprise. "You're not coming?" she asks.

The woman shakes her head, lips pursed into a smile. "I've escorted you to, and now I've escorted you fro. My work here is done. But not to worry... we'll be meeting again soon. Perhaps sooner than you'd like."

Vesper manages a laugh. She walks forward, and Hermia holds her arms while planting a kiss on both cheeks. When she pulls away, her face twists in horror. "Oh no!" she squawks. In a motherly way, she licks her thumb and starts attacking the lipstick marks she has just left on Vesper's skin, even with the teenager squirming away. It'll be nice to have a break from this.

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     After the sweetly chaotic departure, Vesper and Irma step out onto the platform. To her confusion it's... completely barren. The train station feels like an empty void, their clicking footsteps echoing around the platform and the rails. Where are all the photographers that hounded her when she left? Wouldn't they want a snapshot of the shiny new victor now?

When she asks this question, Irma just chuckles. "Trust me. They're here."

Vesper and Irma walk through into the tickets room, in which Mayor Davenport is standing waiting. He is accompanied by his wife and a few other men in suits, officials who she does not recognise. The mayor enthusiastically shakes Vesper's hand to welcome her home, seeming equally more unhinged and sober than he's ever been in her living memory. Of course he's happy. Thanks to her, he and his district can enjoy a marginally less miserable life for a year. Another thing Vesper did not ask for.

After she's shaken a few more hands, Mayor Davenport breathily expresses his congratulations. "I just wanted to say that the whole of District Six has been behind you," he says. "Both of you."

She realises he means Icarus, and swallows thickly. "... Thank you, sir."

"Everyone's been eagerly waiting for your return."

"I doubt everyone," Vesper scoffs.

"Not far off," Mrs. Davenport interjects, hand pressed to her heart. "Your story has resonated with a lot of people. I think everyone knows an Icarus, or has been a Vesper themselves. The turnout simply proves it."

The turnout? Vesper's heart begins to hammer, suddenly aware of the muffled collective noise of a crowd outside. Gathered just like they did for Irma, and like they do for every winning tribute that comes home in every district. She remembers how she almost didn't go to see Irma's homecoming when it happened, in spite of the masses fighting to turn up. Hasn't anyone had to make that sacrifice too?

Eight hundred thousand people, roughly, must surely have better things to do.

The process is explained to her as quickly as it commences. Mayor Davenport will go out onto the front steps, greeting the crowd and giving a brief speech about the honour of bringing a victor home. Then he will introduce Vesper, the crowd seeing their own kind in the flesh at last. From there, it's smile and wave.

Behind double doors sealed by large curtains, Vesper stands and waits with Irma. Mayor Davenport walks out, a brief handful of the atmosphere escaping in through the doors before they shut behind him. The taste almost knocks Vesper off her feet. Adrenaline pumps through her, her fingers tingling. She thought the stage fright was over. Suddenly she's sick with the thought of meeting her loved ones again. Are they there to see her? Right behind those doors, somewhere in the crowd? Is Blythe okay? Oh God, Blythe... Vesper recalls the panic she'd felt hugging her in the Justice Building, and the way it lingered with the fear of her sister keeling over while she was in the arena. Please let her be okay, please let her be okay. Is Axel there? What will he think of her? Will he hate her for letting Icarus slip through her fingers? She'd almost wish to never see his face again—

"Hey..."

Irma's voice brings her back round. Vesper turns to her, sweating.

"Yeah?"

"Remember what I said. Enjoy it."

She nods, swallowing the heartbeat lodged in her throat. A reassuring hand pats her back.

Vesper slips her hand underneath her collar, feeling the wishbone quickly. Just for luck.

From outside, the mayor's muffled voice announces: "Please join me in the great honour of welcoming home our victor — Vesper Alfaro!"

Holding her breath, she steps out into the sunlight. She feels it all, hears it all before it fully sinks in. The sensation is seismic. Vesper's eyes adjust to the bright sunlight... and her breath is stolen at the sight.

Eight hundred thousand people are crammed into one square and further back. Spilling out at the seams, rubbing shoulders and limbs knocking into each other. Almost eight hundred thousand faces are staring up at her — clapping, cheering, whistling, stomping, crying, punching the air, waving their caps. The cacophony shudders through the stage and vibrates under her feet. It completely drowns out the distant sound of traffic that always permeates District Six's background. Mothers wear their children on their hips and teach them to wave. The eyes of fathers are glassy with shameless tears. Fellow workers wave and point at her, as if to say that's our girl right there. Almost eight hundred thousand people have bothered to flock to the Epicentre, all just to welcome home a girl they never knew until now.

Vesper has never felt so tiny, but her heart has never felt so big.

She starts doing the only thing she can do — waving back. Completely stunned, Vesper grins and waves her arm in a huge arch, and her heart does thrilled somersaults when she actually sees strangers noticing and returning the gesture. All at once, she feels connected to an estimated population of eight hundred thousand. Maybe Mrs. Davenport was right. They're all the same in some way, their stories not so different from each other's. This is their home.

Too distracted by it all, it takes Vesper a moment to realise Mayor Davenport approaching her. She barely registers him before he drops a large bouquet of flowers in her arms — slightly wilted from having little fertility in District Six — and she cradles them sheepishly, freeing one arm to keep waving to the immense crowd. Vesper's gaze scans the faces, trying to memorise each one so she will never forget this moment.

Suddenly, there are familiar faces.

First she sees Cheyenne's eyes pierce through the space. Then around her she soon spots Kirk, then Bolt, connecting the image of them all like a dot-to-dot. And then there's Blythe — standing right there, some healthier weight put on, trying not to cry as she screams and claps above the crowd. Oh, Blythe.

Their eyes meet.

The bouquet smacks onto the stage from her slacking arms.

Vesper doesn't even think about what she does next. She starts walking forward, her eyes already set on her sister on the crowd. I need to find my sister. A wall of Peacekeepers guarding the stage block her way. Two of them link arms to put a dam between Vesper and the crowd, which she struggles to push past.

     "I have to go! I have to go!" she insists desperately. Even the crowd is with her, some nearby strangers shouting demands to let her through.

     The Peacekeepers stay silent and enforcing, as always. Screw this. Vesper kicks off her heels onstage, ducks under the Peacekeeper's arms and breaks free. Her nylon tights feel the warmth of the stone steps beneath her feet as she runs down them — the crowd catches her when she reaches them. Thousands of unknown hands and arms touch and embrace her, mingling words of thank and sympathy, while also parting to pass her through the crowd. It seems to be happening from the other end, too, a stream cutting its way through the crowd that even the Peacekeepers can't stop.

     The path clears and suddenly Blythe is running at her full-force — but not if Vesper runs faster. The sisters slam into each other's embrace so hard they wind each other, clinging on for dear life as they sob and rock in each other's arms. Her scent, her touch, everything that Vesper took for granted she has missed. When her arm wraps around her sister's ribcage, she feels a relieving bit of healthy skin covering bone. When they pull away, Blythe's eyes seem brighter than ever, tears dribbling down her rosy cheeks.

     "I missed you so much," Vesper blurts out. "I didn't know if you were okay..."

     Blythe actually laughs then, half-crying. "You were worried if I was okay?"

     They hug again, then pull away once more.

     "You've grown," says Blythe in awe.

     "So have you..." Vesper smiles through her tears.

     Behind them, a flood of more familiar faces push past people, whooping and crying and waving to meet them. Vesper's hand falls down to Blythe's and squeezes it — her sister is actually the first to let go. She lets her go with the current to first meet Cheyenne, who is a blubbering mess as expected. Vesper wraps her arms around the girl and holds her tight. She tries to place her chin atop her head, but finds she can't. The girl has grown while she was gone; indeed, her facial features have even matured too. Vesper is glad she came home before she missed any more of it. Cheyenne struggles to say anything else, so they leave their embrace with equally elated stares. Her twin brother Bolt is next, trying to be stoic, but his bottom lip quivers with the threat of breaking.

     "Get in here, you big crybaby," Vesper half-laughs, half-cries.

     That's all it takes for Bolt to break. He begins to howl, running in to bury his face into Vesper's chest. She chuckles as Cheyenne re-joins the hug, comforting her brother too. Kirk hovers at the side, struggling to find a way to get into the group hug himself, a sheen of tears also shimmering on his own jade green eyes. "Bolt... man, scoot over a little, you're taking up the whole room," Kirk jokes with a wobbly voice.

     Bolt shakes his head fiercely and blubbers more. Vesper sighs, ruffling his hair. With the same arm, she reaches out to Kirk, searching for him through the limitless space. Her hand finds his shoulder first; then his face, cupping his jaw and smoothing her thumb over his cheek. Even he struggles to keep his light-hearted facade up now.

     "Hi," she whispers.

     "Hi," his just manages to get out.

     Vesper brings him forward, their foreheads touching on the way. As she holds them all and feels their warmth, she thinks she has never felt more at home before. Still, there is that gaping space in the middle of the group hug — the shape of a thirteen year-old boy gone too soon.

Through a gap in the hug, that's when she finally sees him.

Axel is stood among the strangers, slowly walking forward with his fists at his sides. His jaw is clenched, eyes shining sadly, drowning in his black button-down shirt.

Everything seems to slow down then. Vesper lets the others slip away from her embrace, falling away like melting ice. Her heartbeat locks itself in her throat and drumrolls wildly. This is what she has been dreading all along. The face of a bereaved brother, the one she never wanted to see. Axel stays completely solitary, as does she. They stare at each other across the space in the crowd of nearly eight thousand.

What do you say to the person you failed your promise to?

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Axel," Vesper chokes out, vision going fuzzy with tears. "I tried. I– I really did. I don't know how you—"

The breath escapes her in a gasp. She realises Axel has rushed forward in a flash, wrapping her up in an embrace so tight, she feels her toes lift up from the ground.

"I thought we'd lost both of you..." Axel's voice trembles.

Vesper relaxes, realising that's all she can ask for. Forgiveness. It's unspoken, but it's there. He understands that she tried, and that is enough for them both. She hugs him back, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to hold onto this for as long as she can. These people, this moment. The last piece of her old life before she has to surrender to the new one. She looks up to the sky and squints past the sun for a sign.

Across the pale blue above, a bird soars past. Vesper imagines it is Icarus.

THE END

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A/N;

guys. we finally did it. i'm honestly in awe, and not really sure what to say right now. so it's a good thing i'm doing an "ending note" chapter after this! but what i do want to do right now is THANK YOU ❤️ for reading, voting, commenting along the way and sticking with this story if you've come this far. it means the whole world to me. i hope you enjoyed iron through its ups and downs, whether you are a new or old reader. hip hip hooray!

feel free to leave any thoughts here if you have them. i hope the ending did the characters and story justice. although... it may not be the end of vesper's story yet...

[ published: 8th december, 2022 ]

— Imogen