— 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 —

━━━━━━ ☽【❖】☾ ━━━━━━

I left the medical chamber immediately after our little group had deemed the area safe; instead, I found myself surrounded by the safety of the training chamber once more, pacing as I tried to clear my mind.

It was ridiculous really—that I considered a training room a safe space, but it represented the world as I was most familiar with it. I understood how to manipulate the cold steel that lined the walls more than the herbal remedies that had rested on the stone shelves of the other chamber.

I'd been forged by blood and sweat to take the necessary steps of winning the war no matter the cost... yet I'd abandoned the virtues instilled in me from birth a little under an hour ago.

My hands continued to tremble as they had since I first cut Juneaux this morning during our sparring session. Even this morning felt like it had been ages ago, but perhaps that's because I was still sleep deprived and consumed by exhaustion. Whatever strength I'd had left had been used to battle the serpent muttation that invaded our sanctuary.

There were only five of us left, but it could've been four or less had I stood back and watched the beast ravage the home of those that had taken me in. And I call it a home since that's what it had become.

The gamemakers believed that by sending us into the arena surrounded by the wild that we'd revert back to the innate habits of our ancestors' savagery, yet this small group had rebelled against those thoughts and instead formed their own little dysfunctional family unit. I'd seen it in the way they spoke and addressed one another, but the thought returning to their homes in the districts wasn't even considered anymore. It forced me to question how poor the lifestyles of the lower districts were that their citizens would prefer this spectated cage of death to the homes they'd been born within.

And perhaps my own mind was betraying me with a secret longing to belong here and escape the fate awaiting me should I survive the games. I understood I was an outsider—an imprisoned enemy slinking through their ranks until my use ran out. And the thought never bothered me until following that fight when they embraced one another and just as I'd always been, I remained alone.

The sound of a voice quietly clearing provided the unfulfilled desire for a distraction and separated my present consciously from my thoughts. I turned toward the entrance of the chamber where Juneaux stood, staring at me with uncertainty.

I was the first to break the moment of eye contact, turning my face toward the ground as I cleared my own throat and walked to the other side of the room.

"No more training today," my statement was more of a request as I began separating the pile of weapons that had remained on the floor; all the while refusing to look at her once more. "I was serious when I said you needed sleep... It's been a long day."

"I'm not here for that."

I'm certain there was some shock evident in my expression as I turned to face her, still hesitating to lift my eyes to meet hers. "Then what are you doing?"

"I wanted to thank you," she replied. The way my brow furrowed must've been taken as an invitation to draw closer because she did. She marched across the room until she stood mere inches away. "You saved Harlan's life. I owe you."

I shook my head. "I was only the fastest to act. Rex was only a second behind me."

"A second would've been too late," she contradicted. "Rex and I were frozen in place, paralyzed by fear and the helplessness of deja vu."

"Deja vu?" I questioned. "Did you deal with many snakes before we found you on the northern mountain?"

She shook her head. "No. But there was a time where Honey and Harlan nearly died—us along with them. We were drowning and there was nothing we could do to escape. That's how we met Webb, Tuck, Otto, and Emory."

I paused in a moment of confused silence, waiting for additional information, but she didn't provide any. "I... I, um, don't know who you're talking about."

She sighed, shaking her head as if I'd disappointed her. "The tributes from district six, eight, and eleven that we allied with. They had names."

"I know that."

"You don't act like it," she softly countered, directing her gaze to the ground as she murmured under her breath. "You treat the tributes like numbers rather than people."

"It's easier that way," I hesitantly explained. There was no reason why I had to explain my decisions and actions, yet I felt compelled to help her understand. "It's easier to kill a number. A name creates a connection and something to remember..."

Her gaze was soft and filled with splintered innocence as she met the darkness contained in my own. "Maybe it shouldn't be easy to take a life."

"Kindness and mercy doesn't win in a game of life and death," I retorted, a bitter edge to my tone. "And no matter how many times I try to warn you, you still don't understand."

"I understand. I just don't accept it." She ran her fingers through her hair, tying it back into a braid that kept the small flyaways out of her hazel eyes that currently looked more green than brown. Those alluring inquisitive eyes questioned me alongside her voice. "Why does winning matter so much to you?"

"For the same reason you're compelled to protect Harlan." My reply came much faster than my walls could deflect. "I've overheard the conversations you've had with both the boy and Rex... about your brother."

Her jaw tensed and her eyes hardened. It made it so much easier to confront her when she wasn't looking at me with kindness. She shook her head as if warning me. "Don't."

"You think by protecting that boy you can make up for the fact that you weren't there when your own brother needed you." I ignored her warning. She turned her back as if she could walk away from the conversation. I followed. "You think there's honor in your sacrifice. You believe that if Harlan survives, some part of Marcus lives too—"

"Don't you mention his name!" She whipped back around on her heels—lifting her hand as if to strike me.

However, her finger remained outstretched as if scolding me. She didn't touch me, but a flash of a memory created an involuntary reaction and I flinched. The reaction did not go unnoticed. Her eyes softened and my hand trembled at my side, quickly to be hidden behind my back.

Her lips quivered as she shook her head and her voice cracked. "You don't get to say his name... Not when it was a career that took him from me. Not when you as a career act as a constant threat of taking him from me again."

"Then why?" I questioned, ignoring the desperate plea in my own voice. "Why would you keep me alive? Why would you let a threat remain? Why won't you kill me?!"

"Because I don't want to become that career, okay!" she snapped. Her chest heaved with pent frustration as she finally admitted the reason behind her hesitance of taking a life. "I don't want to be the reason why a parent never gets to see their child again. I don't want to be the reason a sister never gets to see her brother. And it's not that I just don't want to, I can't!"

There were tears streaming down the sides of her face, gentle but nonstop. There was no hyperventilation, only the quiet sobs of a person completely broken with nothing left to give.

"I'm not afraid to step in front of others and risk my own life." She wiped the corners of her eyes with her fingers, but the tears continued to flow. "But at every opportunity where I had the chance end the games... well that's why I wanted you to teach me. I thought you could show me how to be ruthless, but today you'd proved that I don't have it in me. You were right."

"I wish I was right," I replied. There was a gentleness present in my voice reserved solely for her. "You earned a perfect score because you are capable of committing such horrific acts; but unlike every other tribute thrust into this arena, you decided that not who you were going to be."

"You said that was weakness."

"I was wrong." It wasn't easy to admit, but I didn't hesitate. "Before I entered the arena, my mentor said 'choose mercy'. I disregarded her advice then, but now I see how the choice of mercy is silent strength."

Juneaux remained quiet, enraptured as I spoke to her while drying her tears without feeling the need to look away. I had overlooked Artemisia's advice, slaughtering the tributes that stood in my way without remorse... that is until I was on the other side of said blade and my adversary showed mercy.

"Over the course of nine weeks, you acquired the largest alliance in the history of the games," I continued to explain. "It was unheard of for more than four or five tributes to work alongside one another."

"Your alliance had six members," she countered.

"Yes, but we wanted to kill each other. It was an alliance that would have snapped with a look," I explained, dismissing her point. "That thought never occurred within your alliance. You had seven tributes loyal to whatever cause you were fighting for, knowing that only one was meant to survive."

"So then tell me what good is mercy if only one lives?" she questioned. Her eyes had stopped watering, and instead that inquisive look twisted her features as she continued asking unanswered questions. "And if that were true then why would you save Harlan? Doesn't that make it difficult to win if there are others still alive? Or maybe—against your claims—there is a heart buried somewhere deep in that cavity of your chest and Harlan served as a reminder of a child's innocence... perhaps your own. Maybe another's."

I was stunned into silence. Was it that easy to see through the cracks of the thick walls that concealed my emotions behind strategy and logic? Yet from the look in her eyes, I could see it was simply a guess. She knew nothing of my past and I truly knew little of hers, which was the way I originally liked it. Now, I wasn't so sure.

I took a breath, running my fingers through my hair as I took a seat and used the wall behind me as support for my head. "I had a brother."

"Remus."

And I was stunned into yet another silence as she uttered a name I hadn't said aloud in years. My mind went numb as I looked to her for answers, finding nothing in those eyes that mirrored concern while she took a seat beside me.

"Before your fever broke—when we first took you in," she explained once seeing the mixed look of shock and fear plastered to my face, "you would have these delirious states of being between consciousness and passing out again. You mentioned the name more than once... and an apology."

Although shaken, I nodded my head, struggling to swallow the resurfacing guilt as the memories clawed to the forefront of my mind. It was hard to explain, and I probably shouldn't have when knowing that there were cameras lurking in every nook and cranny of the arena. I was just tired of holding the familial burden that had been thrust into my arms.

"I had a brother," I repeated myself, starting again the only way I knew how. "His name was Remus, and I killed him."

She was quiet, but her hands covered her lips as if to conceal a gasp or the betrayal of any emotion at all.

"When you're raised in District Two, there's an expectation for greatness." I paused. These words had never been shared with anyone outside of family. Atticus Silvanus knew the generics but only because he'd wormed his way through with blackmail and a claim of acquaintanceship. No one believed the lie, yet they couldn't risk a scandal escaping that would bring dishonor to the family name. "And Remus was great. He was my younger by seven minutes and adored the second he entered this world. He was the better warrior, but I was the better soldier.

"Remus received the best marks in school and training, but he'd always been a vocal child. Meanwhile, I was content in the shadows to watch and learn since I was the one who learned the cost of obedience." My hand started trembling again, and it was hidden behind my back with the thought: out of sight, out of mind. "Father had always been harder on me. I was the oldest son, and it would one day be my responsibility to care for the house. He was only preparing me for what was to come.

"My father recognized his mistake too late when my brother's voice had become too loud to silence." I took a breath, knowing that the most difficult memories to endure hadn't even surfaced yet. "Remus never liked injustice. He probably would've called himself a revolutionary... He heard rumors of some insurgents hiding outside the district borders. He wanted me to come with him.

"I begrudgingly agreed, but in actuality told my father of everything my brother had said and planned to do. To say he was displeased would be undermining the situation. My father's voice still haunts me as he told me that bad soldiers need to be made examples of. We were eleven. One year short of rigging a reaping ceremony to take care of the problem.

"My father took us to the border. We thought nothing of it as we usually made an annual trip where he'd lecture us on order and responsibility. This year was different... He set us aside and handed me his gladius. It usually hung over the fireplace mantle. It was a family heirloom from a war so long ago that history books had forgotten it.

"Remus was given a shield. Right away we understood our father wasn't just teaching a lesson in attack and defense, but providing an example of what happens to those who question the reasons of the Capitol. He was announcing that he would not let even his own child destroy the family reputation he'd worked so hard to build with thoughts of rebellion against the structure that provided for us.

"He left us there alone. He said either I killed the traitor or died there with him." Sometime during my explanation, my eyes had drifted to the floor as if I was watching my life play out before my eyes like the people who sat at home watching the games. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet hers. It was difficult to tell whether she was experiencing sympathy or pity as she never once looked away. "I did what was necessary to survive... and I left him there like the first of many numbers to come."

Juneaux was silent. I wanted more than anything for her to say something. Anything. I'd even accept screaming and a horrified look over the compassionate lens from which she viewed me.

"Why would you share this with me?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle as if afraid that by speaking she might scare me away.

I sighed, but that sigh was cut off by a delirious laugh. "Because you were right. I looked at that kid and saw the face of my brother... I saw a chance to save him when I couldn't before. I'm a soldier, and a damn good one, but I'm tired of fighting on the wrong side of the war."

There was a flicker of hope that danced in her eyes. "What are you saying?"

"You won't have to become that career, Juneaux," I replied, hardly understanding the commitment I was extending. "Fate brought a career to your feet who will shed the blood that you cannot... I'll help you get that kid home."

Her eyes watered and she clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle the surprised cry of joy that escaped. Without warning, she then wrapped her arms over my shoulders and  around my neck as she threw herself at me.

Warmth blossomed in my chest as I sat there surprised and tense for just another moment before cautiously embracing her. There was an unfamiliar sensation pounding against my ribcage as if my guarded heart was trying to retreat, yet I did not flee. It was terrifying to finally feel something after living emotionally vacant for so long. I almost preferred staring down the sword of an enemy as opposed to the vulnerable itch that couldn't be scratched.

Or maybe I was just too aware of my surroundings because I could have sworn that I saw a silhouette flicker by the chamber entrance, watching us until noticed then gone without a trace. Maybe I was just paranoid or losing my touch... Although I mentally brushed away the feeling, one realization remained: She would be my undoing. And if I were honest with myself, I didn't mind.