Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One

It's half past nine on a cool early autumn evening in Lumiose City, and Augustine Sycamore rolls out of his boyfriend's bed, reaches for his clothes, and smiles in triumph to himself.

"Well?" Meyer grins, sprawled on his front in the messy bed, hair tousled and eyes bright, still catching his breath, "What did you think?"

Augustine grins back, sitting down to pull his clothes back on. "It was good," he confirms, muffling a squeak as Meyer tugs him back down for another kiss, "We should have done that earlier, you know."

Meyer shrugs a little, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah, but the timing was right." He stands himself, hunting around the small room as he tries to locate his underwear. "Besides, we can do that again, right?"

"So long as neither of us die tomorrow, sure." Augustine is still smiling, taking refuge in gallows humour, even as he buttons up his shirt. "Or, well, in a week or so. You know what I mean."

For just a moment, Meyer's smile falters. "Yeah..." Shaking his head, he drags his shirt back on, rolling the sleeves back up and scratching idly at his wrist. "Look - Augustine, tomorrow, if that's my name that gets called..."

"It won't be." His words are sharp, the mood in the little room suddenly darkening. "It's not going to be you, okay? You're going to get through this and then you'll be fine."

Meyer doesn't answer immediately, doing his jeans back up. "But then I have to watch my brothers and sisters deal with it too," he points out quietly. "You're an only child - if you get through tomorrow and next year, then your family is fine. It's more... serious for us, I guess. There's six of us."

Augustine winces, because it's true. He has never had to take out tessarae, knows that his name will be in there at the absolute bare minimum for a seventeen-year-old. Meyer not only has all the tickets that an eighteen-year-old is meant to receieve, but tesserae for him, for five brothers and sisters, and for his parents.

The odds are not in his favour.

"You'll be fine," Augustine finally manages to say, pasting the smile back on his face. "Seriously. Even if you have a lot of tickets in there, Central Kalos is a big district."

Meyer makes a discomforted sound, but nods. Now dressed, he crosses back to Augustine's side of the bed and tilts his chin up for a quick kiss, pressing their foreheads together. "Want me to walk you back home?" he murmurs, "I should have enough time to get back before curfew."

Augustine makes an affirmative sound, finding Meyer's hand as he shoves his feet in his shoes and allows himself to be led down the rickety stairs. Meyer's siblings are gathered around the small television (with the exception of the youngest, already asleep in the other bedroom and, at six years old, well and truly free from Reaping Day), and his mother is in the kitchen, preparing food for tomorrow.

If their children survive the next day, they will have food to celebrate. If not... well, they most likely won't be in much of a mood to cook.

And it is hard for Meyer's family. Four kids between twelve and eighteen, and he knows that Meyer will volunteer for any of his brothers in an instant. Even with all his own tickets, there's still all of the others to add on as well, and Augustine can entirely understand why Meyer might be worried.

Meyer sneaks a slice of pecha berry from the bowl of fruit salad, and his mother calls out, "Get your filthy mitts out of there or you won't get any tomorrow," a smile in her voice. Meyer shoves the piece of fruit in his mouth and tries to look innocent, surripticiously wiping his fingers on a cloth.

"Maman, what if I got called tomorrow," he says, voice full of mock injury, "And the last thing you said to me was that I had filthy mitts?"

She laughs, but it's a little on the strained side. "Are you going to walk Gus home?"

"Uh huh." Meyer reaches for their jackets, hung on the peg board near the kitchen door. "I'll be back by ten, promise."

Nodding, she returns to the food. "Okay. If it gets too late, just stay over, alright?"

The boys both give affirmative sounds - Augustine half wants them to run out of time just so Meyer will have a good excuse to stay over - and head out into the chilly air. Augustine shivers involuntarily, and Meyer, warm and reassuringly solid, wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"Are you worried?" Augustine bursts out without really thinking about it. "About tomorrow. What will you do if you do get reaped?"

Meyer frowns to himself, half gazing at the shadowed path so they don't stumble, removing his arm from Augustine's shoulders and reaching for his hand instead. "I don't know," he says slowly. "Try my hardest to win, I guess."

"You have a chance," Augustine points out, "To win. I mean it. You're strong, you're fast, you're a really good climber - I bet you could pick up using weapons really easily, and if there's any electronics in the Arena, you'd be really good at that - and the older ones win a lot more, you'd have really good odds."

Meyer shrugs uncomfortably. "I don't know. I don't think I could kill anyone... Surviving only goes so far, but you've gotta fight at the end, at least." He sighs. "What would you do?"

What would he do? Augustine is quiet as they walk, frowning at the path. He's tall, but he's thin, and he's unco-ordinated to boot. He can't fight. He knows a bit about Pokemon, but probably not enough to save his life. "Die, I guess," he jokes morbidly. "I don't know. Maybe I'll pick something up - or Auntie Drasna can give me advice."

"It'd be shit if you did get called," Meyer observes grimly, "She'd have to mentor her own nephew, that'd be really hard..."

"Especially if I die," Augustine finishes evenly. "Yeah, I know."

There's a nasty silence.

"If your name gets called," Meyer starts to say slowly, and Augustine squeezes his hand hard.

"You're not volunteering for me," he says, his voice sharp. "Absolutely not. You're going to take care of your siblings, and then you're going to meet someone nice and be really happy with them, and you'll be okay."

His voice catches on the last part.

Meyer is silent for a moment. "Yeah," he says softly, voice strained. "Okay. Also, you need to promise the same thing. Don't volunteer for me, and if I get reaped, then try and find someone else and live a really good life. And..." He hesitates for a moment. "And if you could help look after my family, I'd really appreciate that."

"I will." Augustine clings to his hand tightly, then sighs - the gates of the Victor's Village, where he has lived with his parents and his Victor aunt for his entire life, has emerged into view. "Do you have enough time to get home before curfew?"

Meyer checks his watch, then nods. "Yeah, I have enough." They stop outside the gate, and Meyer tugs him close, pulling him into a hug that's more desperate than romantic. "See you tomorrow," he says, voice far more subdued than his usual cheerful tone. "Get a good night's sleep, okay?"

"You too," Augustine murmurs against his shoulder, unwilling to let go straight away. "Um... night. See you tomorrow."

They part with a kiss, and Augustine waits at the gate, and watches until Meyer is swallowed up by the darkness.

Reaping Day is solemn. There are no classes for the students (although Augustine has an unfairly early exam in two days, assuming he survives this day - should his name not be the one called, he will be spending the afternoon studying, most likely. And if it is called... well, "Thrown into a battle to the death" is probably a good excuse for missing a test), and the places of work are closed until midday, by which point the Reaping will be over.

Augustine is quiet, pensive as he makes his way down to breakfast, barely managing a weak smile at his father. Despite his relatively few tickets, he knows that even the twelve-year-olds get called sometimes. The odds may be more in his favour, but on Reaping Day, anyone can become the Capitol's latest victim.

And he's worried about Meyer. They've only been dating for a few months, but he's already really quite infatuated, and he knows that if Meyer's name is called out, something in him will break.

Why is the morning so long? His breakfast seems like it barely fills up any time at all, no matter how long he takes to eat it, trying hard to appreciate the slightly better quality of food that being family of a Victor affords and finding it tasteless nonetheless. He leaves the breakfast table and washes, dressing himself in the neat black slacks and blue button-up shirt he's set aside for the reaping, and finds with dismay that it's still only eight in the morning.

Exchanging small talk with his parents fills in ten minutes, reading the paper takes up another twenty. The exam he has to study for manages to distract him for an entire forty minutes, gazing at his notes with an unfocused eye (it's for mathematics, not his strongest point - he far prefers biology). When his aunt returns from her morning task of tending to the dragons, he slumps on the sofa next to her, neither speaking, and the silence takes up another five minutes.

Today is Reaping Day for the thirty-first Hunger Games. Drasna won the eighth at the age of sixteen, and she's not even forty but the stress of every Game she's ever mentored shows in every line on her face.

She is the only victor that Central Kalos has ever had. Wulfric, from the second Games, and Olympia, the winner from two years earlier, both hail from Mountain Kalos, and Coastal Kalos has never seen a victor, ever.

It's not a great track record. His aunt has seen a lot of their tributes die.

A few streets away, he knows Meyer is getting ready; preparing himself for the trial of the Reaping, helping get two brothers (twelve and fifteen) and his sister (fourteen) ready. Four children in one family, all going to the Reaping... and he knows that even if Meyer survives, even if this is the last time his name will ever be in there, he will not breathe easily until every one of his siblings safely makes it through.

Today, and next year. That's all Augustine has to get through himself, and then his family will be safe (unless he has children of his own, and frankly, that's something he just can't imagine himself doing).

The morning continues. Augustine naps on the sofa next to Drasna, her Noivern watching over the both of them, restless even in the scraps of sleep he manages to get.

And finally it's time, time to make their way to Lumiose Square (rather poorly named, given that it's a circle), to line up for registration and to be shuffled into the section for seventeen-year-old boys. He strains to see Meyer over the tops of the heads of the eighteen-year-old girls, but the distance between them is just a little too far - instead, he stands there, surrounded by other boys from Lumiose and Central Kalos beyond that, and waits for their fate to be told.

The announcer extols the virtues of the Capitol in far-off Unova and everything that they have done for Kalos, and Augustine tries not to grit his teeth. A product of her environment, the announcer is polished up like a piece of glass, making Augustine wince if he looks at her directly - the difference between glitz and glamour and the shabbiness of the non-Capitol-owned buildings and the teenagers filling the square is quite remarkable.

She calls out the girls first, and Sophie, a terrified girl from the fifteen-year-old section, slowly makes her way through the crowd, flanked by Peacekeepers. She's shaking visibly on the large screens that surround them, stretched far over the stage, and Augustine feels a pang of sympathy for her.

"And now, the boys," the announcer says, and withdraws the slip of paper. "The male tribute for Central Kalos is..."

Augustine turns automatically to where he knows Meyer will be, crossing his fingers, hoping amongst hope that it won't be his name, or the name of one of his brothers, that is called out today.

And it's not.

"...Augustine Sycamore."

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

Leading out from Lumiose City is Versant Road. It's a pleasant, green spot, full of skaters (which Augustine admires but could not emulate to save his life), patches of long grass (strictly discouraged to go near; everyone knows that it's full of wild, dangerous Pokemon), and the road to Camphrier Town, the next town over.

Camphrier is a lovely little historical town, full of relics not just from the pre-Capitol years, but from Kalos' long history. Augustine has been there a good few times, and he has spent time on Versant Road itself even more often.

There are wild Skiddo in the grass. Far from dangerous, Augustine has managed to befriend a handful of them, quietly watching their movements and learning from them, a bold few sufficiently used to him that they're happy enough to nap at his side.

He had been considering, that morning, to visit Versant Road. But on Reaping Days, all the gates are closed to exiting Lumiose City - there are far too many people coming in for someone to go out, especially for a reaping candidate. He could not have visited it.

If he had, perhaps he would not be where he is now, rooted to the ground, a roar like thunder in his ears.

It's only the sight of Drasna half-rising from her seat, face white and shocked, that spurs him to move, his feet automatically carrying him to her. Never mind that he's walking to what will very likely be his death - his aunt has locked her eyes on him and her gaze is like a tether drawing him to the stage, keeping him upright, keeping him from collapsing where he is. He ascends the stairs and Drasna stands, crossing the stage to squeeze his shoulder hard, resting her other hand on Sophie's shoulder.

There's a buzzing in his ears like static. The twelve-year-olds are right in front of the stage, which means that the eighteen-year-old boys are directly to their side, and he has searched out and found Meyer's face in the crowd. He is already crying.

But you're safe, he thinks. You're safe, you will never face Reaping Day again. Not for yourself.

The announcer speaks again - he's vaguely cognizant of her announcing his and the girl's - Sophie's - names, announcing them as the newest tributes for Central Kalos. And as if flicking a switch, the word 'tribute' turns off the strange hazy fog and suddenly he is aware again, of the stage, of the crowd, of his position.

He's a tribute now.

And he's going to die.

"I'm sorry," Drasna says softly as he and Sophie are guided into the Capitol building in the square. "Both of you, you're going to have to fight, but I'll be with you until you get to the Arena. Until then, please trust me, alright?"

"Alright," Sophie says, her voice small, and she turns to give Augustine a weak smile and her hand. "Um - hi. I'm Sophie."

He shakes her hand numbly. "Augustine," he murmurs, "So, um - I guess we're team mates? How does this work, anyway?"

Drasna makes an affirmative sound. "It may come down to just the two of you," she says, her voice mostly even. "But if that's not the case, your district partner will be your strongest ally in the arena. Whatever happens, I want you two to be kind to each other."

She's a rival, she's trying to say. He knows that if it comes down to the two of them as the final two, one of them must die for the other to survive.

And he knows right then and there that, tribute or not, he will not kill Sophie. If it comes down to it, he would rather sacrifice himself so she could survive.

Assuming, of course, that they're the final two.

The odds are not in their favour.

He's escorted into one of the visiting rooms and has barely registered his surroundings (nice thick carpet, the walls freshly painted) before the door opens again and his parents are shown in. Immediately, he's enveloped in a hug from both sides, and he doesn't speak, just settles into their arms, head bowed, fighting off tears.

What can he say? What can any of them say that will make this right? In the districts, eighteen families will be saying goodbye to their children, and only one will ever see them again. He knows that in the room next to his, Sophie will be saying goodbye to her family, and that thought more than anything else makes his throat tighten. Even in this building, at least one family will see their children die.

His father takes his left hand, and there's a cool touch of metal and woven fabric around his wrist. Augustine glances down to see his father fastening his own father's watch around his wrist, and he glances automatically to where there's a pale band of skin on the corresponding place on his father's own wrist.

"Now, remember," his father jokes weakly, "It's just a loan, it's not actually yours until you turn eighteen. I want you to give me that watch back when you come home, alright?"

He doesn't smile back. "I'll give it to Auntie Drasna," he says softly, "I don't think I'd dare take it into the Arena."

The goodbyes are not long enough. His parents are escorted out again, and he watches them go.

Meyer doesn't say anything, he simply wraps his arms around Augustine, clinging to him like a security blanket. He's crying again, trembling, and there's nothing either of them can say that will make this right again, so all he does is hold on to Meyer tightly.

"Remember what I said," he mumbles into his shoulder. "Take care of your siblings. And find someone else, and live a long life, okay?"

"Yeah," Meyer whispers, and draws back just long enough to kiss him. "I - good luck."

There are no more visitors. He's led back out and takes a seat beside Drasna, and she wraps her arm around his shoulders.

"You got Papa's watch, huh?" she says with a weak smile.

He nods, gazing at the watch face. "I'll give it back to you before... before I go in," he says softly. "I don't want it to get damaged in the Arena."

She says nothing, hugging him briefly.

They're silent all through the car trip to Gare de Lumiose, where they will be meeting with the Mountain Kalos tributes. Pasting a smile on his face for the cameras, he shakes hands with Wulfric and Olympia, the mentors - Olympia stares at him intently, and he glances away, discomforted. The tributes themselves, he can't quite bring himself to look at - how could he, knowing he would be fighting them to the death in a week?

In a week. He might be dead in a week. There's the short train ride to Coumarine, where they will meet with Coastal Kalos, and then the boat trip across to the Capitol, and then a few days of training... and then he will be in the Arena, and he may very well be dead.

He can't quite bring himself to socialise on the train, giving Sophie time to meet Drasna properly. Before he retreats to one of the sitting rooms, his aunt pulls him gently aside, setting both hands on his shoulders.

"Augustine, I'm sorry," she whispers, "This is all my fault."

He stares at her, not quite comprehending. "They pulled my name out. It was just - I mean, it's not like they plan it, it's just a coincidence, right?"

She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes, her expression sad.

"Once we're on the ship, we'll talk tactics as a group - all of us from Kalos, including Coastal and Mountain. Until then, take as much time as you need, alright?"

She's being kind to him because he'll be dead soon, he can only assume, and twists his grandfather's watch around his wrist. "Okay."

The view from the sitting room is uninspiring - much of the path from Lumiose to Coumarine is an underground tunnel, zipping beneath what used to be known as desert badlands and which is now a vast technological park, full of power plants and refineries. He stares out at the darkness, accompanied only by his reflection, and writes letters in his head.

Dear Maman and Papa, today I was chosen to die...

Coastal Kalos has no victors to serve as mentors. Instead, they are accompanied by Ramos, an older man who was actually a Pokemon Trainer in his earlier years, the years before the Capitol's stranglehold on training. Augustine is fascinated, but there is no time for questions at the port city - with much fanfare, they are escorted to the enormous boat, and he pastes a smile on his face and waves for the cameras even as his legs tremble on the gangplank leading up to the ship.

He can't quite bring himself to enjoy the luxury, the marble tiles and thick carpets, the chandeliers and rich furnishings. The ship is going to take him away from Kalos, away from everything he knows and loves, to take him to to Unova, to the Capitol, to the Hunger Games.

The ship is big, but the tributes and mentors are largely confined to what has been euphamistically named the Hero Deck. Their cabins are there, and briefing and training rooms, and, at the very least, a promenade that loops around the outside so that he might catch some sea air. It's nice, he has to admit grudgingly, sitting on one of the deck chairs and watching as the orange sun dips into the sea as they travel west, he has to admit that it's nice being out in the ocean air, and he tries to get a glimpse of oceanic Pokemon in the waters below.

They have been given half an hour of their own; then it will be time to watch the recap of the reapings in the other districts, to learn who their competition is - other tributes, other kids, all fighting for their lives. They will be fed a sumptuous dinner in the enormous dining hall with all the other passangers, the tributes lined up at the head table like they are on display.

They will then be lead to one of the briefing rooms and will properly go over tactics and briefings - what to expect, how to behave, what is necessary to be a good tribute. To be the perfect sacrifice, so that the Capitol never really has to face what their government does to the tributes and to the regions; to put on a brave face so he will not shame the entirety of Central Kalos and perhaps the entire nation of Kalos as a whole.

He and Sophie and the tributes from Mountain and Coastal Kalos are being sent to their deaths, and he has to smile and act grateful for the opportunity, and he's barely made it in to one of the bathrooms near the briefing room before his dinner rises in his throat again.

Seasickness, he explains with a smile and a self-depricating laugh as he returns, he hasn't quite got his sea legs yet, and goodness, the food was marvelous but very rich, wasn't it?

Only Drasna smiles sympathetically, knowingly, and he wonders again how many kids she has seen go to their deaths.

And he hopes that, at least, he will be remembered.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

The next morning, things are a little easier to bear. They're well away from Kalos, and although his comment about seasickness isn't totally a lie and he can only really pick at his breakfast, he knows there are a few days of sanctuary before being thrown headfirst into the Capitol, with its opening ceremonies and training and interview shows.

This is his last opportunity to rest and (try to) relax. Once they arrive at the Capitol, they will be constantly on the move, and in the Arena...

Well, he thinks morbidly, he can rest when he's dead.

Sophie's cabin is right next to his, and they sit outside them in the sea air, watching wild Wingulls overhead. That means they must still be close to land, he explains as he points them out, since it's only really the Pelippers who have the strength to go out into the open ocean. Beneath them, most likely, is an entire world - Sharpedo, Wailmer, entire schools of Finneon and Lumineon, Mantine, perhaps even Lapras (although they tend to prefer the cold polar waters further north).

Sophie is fascinated by his talk of Pokemon. "You've seen them?" she says, her eyes wide. "Like, actual wild ones?"

"Yeah!" He grins at her. "Do you ever - I mean, did you ever go on Versant Road? I know they say not to go into the grass, but there are wild Skiddo there, and they're so cute..."

"Just on to the road, but I never went in the grass. You're really brave. Aren't you worried you might get attacked?"

He shrugs, smiling. "Not really! I mean, that close to the city? They probably wouldn't have been that bad, the dangerous ones are in the areas that are harder to reach." He opens his mouth, then closes it again, forcing back the words that he was about to say - that when they get back, he'll take Sophie to Versant Road and show her the Skiddo there.

Because that is now impossible. One of them might come back, but certainly not both.

"Anyway," he forces out, "They're really gentle. If you get back, you should go and see them, I bet they'd like a new friend. There's also a bunch of Bunnelby there, too. You just need to avoid Doduo, sometimes they can be bad-tempered - if they're around, I don't go in the grass."

"If I get back," Sophie echoes, and smiles sadly. They're back to the topic at hand, and she sighs, closing her eyes. "What if you're the one who gets back? What will you do then?"

He shrugs, gazing out at the dazzling sea, letting the rush of the waves accompany his thoughts. "I wanted to study Pokemon properly," he finally says softly. "Their biology, how they evolve. When I finished school, I was going to try to get in to École Polytechnique Lumiose, and get my degree, and be a researcher. Um... what about you?"

"I'm not sure," she sighs, eyes still closed, but Augustine can see a glimpse of tears behind her glasses. "Probably something to do with Pokemon, too. I never really thought about it - I thought that - if I got to nineteen, I could think about it then. But it doesn't matter now, does it?" In a rush, she adds, "I'm looking forward to getting a Pokemon. That's going to be good, right? Do you know what you want?"

"A dragon," he says immediately, and smiles involuntarily, despite knowing that it would most likely only be for a few days. "Um, Drasna is actually my aunt - I actually grew up in the Victor's Village, since she invited my father to live with her, and then he married my mother. And she has a Noivern. There's a picture of me when I was about three, and I'm sitting on her Noivern's back, pretending to fly." His smile falters a little. "It's a nice picture. They might display it at my funeral."

"If you die," Sophie points out, possibly a little overly optimistically, in his opinion. "You know, we should work out tactics - do you want to form an alliance?"

He smiles at that, more genuinely. "Okay. Although I have to admit, I'm not very formidable!"

"Well, neither am I!" she sasses back, "But you're smart, right? And I'm smart, too! Between the two of us, we might not be able to out-fight the other tributes - but we might be able to out-think them. And then..." She closes her eyes, and lets the sea breeze whip her hair back. "And then, maybe one of us will get home."

Lumiose City is big, and bright, and (when there are no blackouts) dazzling.

Castelia Port, the first port of call in the Capitol, puts Lumiose to shame.

It's glitzy and glamourous, and Augustine barely has time to stare at it with wide eyes before he's escorted from the boat, past cheering crowds, to where a train waits to take them to the Remake Centre. He's shown into a room and instructed to shower, and simply luxuriates in the hot water for a good ten minutes before actually washing, padding out barefoot and dripping wet and wrapped in a bathrobe that probably costs more than his entire wardrobe back in Lumiose.

Instructed to lie back on a bed, eyes closed, he doesn't notice a pink-haired attendant approaching until she drags a chair over. "Alright," she says perkily, "Time to get you prettied up!"

'Getting prettied up', apparently, means getting waxed.

"Is this really necessary?" he winces as she tries to trim his eyebrows into something approaching 'sleek and sexy', yelping as she yanks off another cloth strip. "Seriously, who's going to care about my eyebrows when I'm fighting for my life?"

Rubbing moisturiser over his face (it feels raw), she giggles as if he's just made a joke. "Well, the cameras, silly! Oh dear, you're awfully hairy, aren't you?"

He manages a pained grin. "I'm Kalosian and Jewish, what did you expect?"

She simply laughs again, and starts stirring the hot wax again. "Don't worry, dear. We'll take care of it. Time for your bikini line!"

"Augh!"

(He manages to survive the Remake Centre. Somehow. He's fairly sure his bikini line will never be the same again, and the less said about the injection they gave him to make sure he stays as smooth as a baby during the Games, the better.)

The Opening Ceremony is elaborate and dramatic, and he fidgets anxiously in the waiting area. Ahead of his and Sophie's chariot, the others are rolling out - Kanto and Johto, Hoenn and Sinnoh, Eastern and Western Unova. Just in front of them, Coastal Kalos starts to move, and Augustine hastily straightens up the clingy dark blue top he's wearing.

"Ready?" he mutters to Sophie.

"Not really," she sighs, and pushes her glasses back up her nose.

"Me either," he laughs, and the chariot begins to move.

It's near overwhelming as they're slowly led up the boulevard - the stalls are lined with screaming, cheering Capitolites, waving flags and banners, and the roar of the crowd and the crash of the drums as they pound out the Capitol's anthem almost deafens him. "Smile!" he tells Sophie quickly, and waves enthusiastically to the crowd, grinning, playing them up. Next to him, Sophie has taken his cue and is waving as well, smiling in a rather terrified way - still, only he can really tell how nervous she is. The rest of the Capitol, the rest of the relevant world, they'll see them how they want to be seen - determined, smiling, treating their impending deaths as an honour, treating the Games as a privilege and not a travesty.

Augustine smiles, and waves, and smiles, and smiles, and smiles.

It's almost a relief to get to the Training Centre, the place they will call home for the next handful of days. The mentors brief them as a group, explaining that they'll have a dinner for themselves tonight with training starting the next day, and they are let loose - eighteen teenagers between twelve and eighteen, silent attendants in white leading them to their new quarters so they may freshen up.

"I'm Augustine," he says with a smile to one of them, "What's your name?"

The attendant, a young woman around his own age, only smiles briefly and gestures to the door, and he frowns once but steps inside with an appreciative thank you.

The room is fancier than any he has ever seen, and he spends at least five minutes playing with the window settings, finally settling on a spectacular view of Lumiose City at sunset. The food machine on the wall has coffee, and he brightens up significantly as he programs in a cup of something hot, strong, and sweet, taking a sip with an appreciative sigh and ignoring the conventional wisdom that evening is probably not the best time for caffeine (at least, not if he wants to sleep tonight). The showers are even better than the one in the Remake Centre, and he scrubs make-up and glitter off his skin, rubs conditioner through his hair, then simply stands there and lets good, hot, unscented water purify him from the Opening Ceremony. Even the wardrobe is enormous, and he dresses in soft black pants and a rather less clingy long-sleeved blue shirt, briefly considering going barefoot before reconsidering and grabbing a pair of bright red socks, tying damp curls up with a hair tie.

He looks and feels like himself again, the glitz of the Opening Ceremony washed away, and with the return of his wan reflection, so too comes the realisation that all this luxury is barely compensation for the fact that he'll likely be dead within a week.

Suddenly, he doesn't seem to have that much of an appetite any more.

At least he can meet the other tributes - the others he'll be fighting to the death against. But he had watched the recap, and he knows that not one of the tributes for this year is a volunteer - none of them want to be here, none of them had any choice. They are all in this together, they are all victims of the Capitol, and that camaraderie born of the Capitol's injustice is what prompts him to finally leave his room.

At least he can greet them with a smile on his face and a promise to see them as companions in this, and not the potential cause of his death. He will not look at them and wonder if he will kill them, or if they will kill him - he refuses.

But not everyone shares the same attitude. There seems to be a marked difference in attitude between two groups of tributes - those like him, who seek to make friends, and those like Sophie, who are off on their own, withdrawn. Perhaps she sees them as enemies, or perhaps she cannot bring herself to make friends when she knows that a lot of them will be dead by the end of the week, and if he truly thought about it, if he looked at the person he spoke to and thought, "You will almost certainly die soon", perhaps he would be reluctant too.

He refuses.

He sits with the two boys from Sinnoh, Volkner and Aaron (and not Arianne, as he explains with some exasperation, and never mind that his name was in with the girls). Eighteen-year-old Volkner is quiet, scowling half-heartedly at his meal, but fifteen-year-old Aaron is cheerful and welcoming, happy to talk about Pokemon (like Augustine, he has had some contact with them, managing to befriend a Wurmple in the forests near his home) and happy to form an alliance.

They promise to meet up for training the next day, and it's late by the time Augustine retreats to bed for his first night in the Capitol, chatting idly with Sophie on the way back to their floor, feeling at least a little relieved.

Himself, Sophie, Aaron. They have the beginning of an alliance, some burgeoning friendships, the knowledge that whatever happens in the Arena, they will not be alone.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

The uniform he is to wear during training is waiting in his room when he wakes up the next morning. Briefly disconcerted at the idea of silent intruders in the night, he examines it - it fits relatively close to the skin, dark grey and red with panels of mesh for ventilation. Augustine's fits perfectly, a number eight (Central Kalos' official district number) emblazoned on the back and the sleeves, and he pulls on the flexible boots that come with it before surveying his appearance with a frown.

He looks like a tribute.

He looks exhausted and pale and drawn, and it's only the first day of training. Three very long days stretch on ahead before the Gamemaker assessment at the end of the third day, and then there's the interview show the evening after that, and then…

And then he'll be in the Arena, fighting for his life.

He may very well only have four days left to live, and suddenly he misses his parents and Meyer so fiercely that his eyes prick with tears.

Sophie has not yet risen, but Drasna is already at the table, reading something on her tablet with a frown on her face. She sets it down when she spots him and immediately rises to her feet, pulling him into a hug - he's taller than her now and has been since he was fourteen, but she still lets him cling to her like he's a much younger child.

"I -" he starts, and his voice chokes off.

I'm scared.

I want to go home.

I don't want to die.

"I'll get you through this," she murmurs in his ear. "As a mentor, I'm not supposed to play favourites, but - I'll get you home."

"Don't favour me over Sophie," he whispers back, a lump growing in his throat. "She doesn't deserve it. If it comes down to the two of us... I mean, don't make her die just to save me."

Drasna winces a little, but nods. "It rarely comes down to that," she explains gently. "I'll be fighting for both of you, I promise."

"Thanks." His voice is badly shaken. Bad enough that he and Sophie will most likely die - worse still if Sophie dies because their shared mentor chooses to support family instead.

Sophie emerges from her room a few minutes later, and by then Augustine is a little more calm, settled at the table as he eats his breakfast. She gives him a nervous smile, fidgeting with the end of her ponytail, as she sits and reaches for the toast, spreading it with pecha berry jam with meticulous care.

"Hey, I was wondering," she pipes up when she finishes her bite, "Those servants - how come they don't talk?"

Drasna winces again. "They're Avoxes," she says, her voice a little stiff. "Servants of the Capitol. They're - rebels, dissidents. They don't talk because they've had their tongues cut out for disobeying the Capitol."

Augustine clasps his own hands to his mouth in horror, appetite suddenly gone. Sophie sits down her drink heavily.

"So, uh. Okay. Augustine, are you nervous?" she asks to break the awkward silence, pushing her glasses back up her nose with two fingers. Her hands are shaking. "Drasna, what's the training like?"

Augustine just shrugs in answer to her question, turning his attention to his aunt as well.

"Well, the training hall is at the bottom of the building," Drasna explains, sitting back in her chair. "It's mostly a large room, but there'll be smaller areas off to the sides - there's an obstacle course, a standard gym, some holographic weapons rooms... a few areas have survival habitats, things like that. There'll be trainers there to help you learn the stations, if you need it, and others are self-guided."

She pauses to let them absorb this. Augustine is already thinking hard - he knows that the weapons rooms might not be the best for him, but maybe he can try the survival habitats, or perhaps tackle the obstacle course.

"I want to stress this to you," she continues grimly, "You absolutely should pay attention to the survival stations. Knowing how to survive in a wilderness situation can be the difference between life and death - most of the time, the Arena will look like some sort of natural environment, so knowing how to survive there is vital."

Augustine nods once - the Arena from the Games three years earlier (the one won by Steven Stone of Hoenn, the Games' youngest victor thus far) had been a steel and concrete labyrinth, an industrial wasteland. But nearly every other Games he had watched had been a forest, a jungle, a swamp, a mountain, and he knows that the odds are likely that he will be facing wilderness as well as his fellow tributes.

And so he intends to learn to survive.

"What about Pokemon?" he finally asks, just the reminder that soon he'll be getting one of those marvelous creatures of his own brightening his mood, "Do they have stations dedicated to those?"

She grins. "Once you get your Pokemon, there'll be trainers on-hand to teach you the fundamentals of battling. Ramos will be one of them, actually - he used to specialise in Grass types."

"I want a dragon," Augustine says, and Drasna laughs out loud.

"That's the spirit!"

The training facility is like nothing Augustine has ever seen. He attends the orientation, wincing faintly as the head instructor tells them the myriad ways that they'll die, and taking note of the compulsory exercises they'll be attending. An obstacle course, two one-on-one fights with trainers (one unarmed, one with 'a weapon of your own choosing'), and, once they receive their Pokemon, a mock battle. And then they're set loose, nothing to do until the obstacle course after lunch.

Well, he decides grimly, if he's going to embarrass himself in front of everyone later on, he might as well find something he can do now that he'll be decently competent at, and settles in for a morning of identifying berries and learning how to start a fire.

Augustine falls off the climbing wall in the obstacle course, a full forty seconds in to the time trial. In his second attempt, he manages a whole minute and a quarter before managing to get tangled in the netting he was meant to be crawling under, and in his third and final attempt, he trips as he runs towards a short wall he has been able to scale the first two times and falls flat on his face.

There are a few snickers from the watching tributes, and he slinks off, bruised in body and dignity alike.

The unarmed fight lasts an embarrassingly short amount of time before he's thrown and pinned to the floor, the trainer deigning to pat him on the shoulder reassuringly as he brushes himself off, face burning. The armed fight is even less of a success, the practice sword (he had thought it unwise to try a projectile) clattering against the floor as he yanks his bruised wrist to his chest.

It's probably fair to say that he's going to die.

Curled up on top of his bed after training finishes for the second day, quite unable to bring himself to emerge for dinner, Augustine stares at the false image of Lumiose City and scowls at the image. He has always known that he's uncoordinated, that he probably has no hope in fighting his way out, but all of his and Sophie's reassurances that they would be able to think their way out now seem hopelessly inadequate.

How is he meant to survive in the Arena? His survival skills are... adequate enough, he supposes; he knows that he would do better if not desperately trying to survive at the same time. He knows he'll be able to team up with other members of his little alliance - Sophie isn't the best fighter herself, but her survival skills are significantly better than his. Aaron has wilderness skills and combat skills to boot - he's small but quick, and has a good eye for throwing rocks and perhaps knives.

And if they die? Well, he'll mostly be dead long before either of them, and in that case, it's well and truly a moot point.

Because there's really no way around it. He just does not have the skills they want to survive in the Arena. Oh, he can rattle off type interactions and growth pattens for a few hundred kinds of Pokemon, certainly - but in the Arena, Pokemon are a very small part of it.

At least, he thinks with some resignation, he should do alright in the mock battle. If it's just a matter of choosing the right moves, of picking type advantages, then he should be alright.

They meet their Pokemon first thing in the morning on the third day, the mood in the training facilities buzzing with excitement. Augustine has been pouring over the catalogue of available Pokemon for the past hour; while he knows that a starter from each region will be available, he wants, more than anything else, a dragon. There are a few candidates - Swablu, while not a dragon itself, will evolve into one as Altaria, and Trapinch is in much the same situation. But...

He pauses at the entry he keeps coming back to, nods, and then stands and makes his way over to the table for Pokemon from Sinnoh.

Augustine calls his new Gible 'Artemis' and settles down with her in one of the habitats, holding an oran berry in his outstretched hand. The little Gible stares at him warily, and he smiles at her gently, then yelps sharply as she chomps down on the berry - and his hand with it.

Still, he doesn't move, other than to reach forward and stroke the top of her head gently with his uninjured hand. "It's okay," he murmurs, "I'm your friend, I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay."

Slowly, Artemis releases his hand and allows herself to be picked up. He pets her (there's nothing broken, he thinks, but he's fairly sure he'll have some almighty bruises) and she closes her eyes and almost purrs, and he smiles.

They win the mock battle together convincingly, and with a good hour to go before the trial by fire of impressing the Gamemakers, he and Artemis lie down together under a tree in one of the habitats, and they rest.

On the way to the testing room, Drasna manages to meet with him and Sophie, offering Augustine a smile. "I was in the observation room when you were doing the mock battle," she murmurs, "You did well. Is that what you'll show the Gamemakers?"

He nods wordlessly, hand white-knuckled around Artemis' Poke Ball.

"Good. You'll do fine." She smiles warmly at him, then turns to Sophie. "And Sophie, what about you? I've been watching you over the past few days, may I recommend the berry-recognition game?"

Sophie nods tightly. "That's what I was planning, yeah," she says, voice wobbling.

Drasna rests her hands on their shoulders, and squeezes. "Good luck, both of you. I'll meet you back in the apartment after your sessions."

The worst part about being Kalos is the fact that they're last. The tributes from Kanto enter, and then Johto, then Hoenn, then Sinnoh. The Unovans are next, Eastern and Western, and finally the Coastal Kalosians go in, the girl giving him, Sophie, and the Mountain Kalosians a quick, tight smile.

And finally, it's Augustine's turn. "Good luck," Sophie murmurs, and he nods back to her, returning the words.

The Gamemakers are ready and waiting for him, with a fighting area marked out in white and set with natural hazards, rocks, pools of water, and a few trees, one of the trainers waiting at the other end. "Augustine Sycamore, district eight, Central Kalos," one reads from a tablet, "You have registered your intention to take part in a Pokemon battle, correct?"

Augustine nods, taking his position at the end of the fighting area. "I have," he says evenly, and holds up Artemis' Poke Ball.

The Gamemaker with the tablet nods once. "You may begin."

He lets out his breath, and releases Artemis. The trainer notes his choice, reaches for one of the six Poke Balls set on their belt (six! He can't even imagine having that many Pokemon!), and releases - a Skrelp? No, a Seadra, they look close enough to the Kingdra that are amongst the dragons that Drasna raises.

He grins.

"Artemis, Dragon Claw, please," he instructs, and the Gible launches herself on surprisingly strong legs to swipe hard at the Seadra, barely avoiding toppling into the pool it's lurking in.

She barely manages to avoid toppling in because she's staggering, suddenly looking alarmingly unwell. Augustine takes a step forward in alarm, and the trainer calmly instructs, "Twister."

Artemis falls unconscious an instant before he remembers two very critical things: that Seadra are not yet dragon types, and that they can be poisonous to the touch.

Numbly, he recalls her, and turns on his heel, and leaves before the Gamemakers can see the tears in his eyes from such a basic, stupid mistake.

It's easy enough to heal Artemis. Harder to mend his mistake, and he curls himself into a miserable ball on the sofa to await his fate. Artemis is groggy but at least she's conscious again, curled against him as if her small presence can help make everything better. He's already apologised to her a dozen times, will likely apologise a dozen more, and the next time he does, she nips him very gently, as if to tell him to stop being so self-pitying.

But if he gets a terrible score, if he doesn't get sponsors because of it, if they both die because he made a stupid mistake, wouldn't that self-pitying be justified?

Drasna gives him a sympathetic glance. She has reassured him perhaps a dozen times as well, and Sophie as well, once she returns from her own session and learns how badly Augustine's went.

They announce the scores. The lowest so far is a six; the highest, a ten (from Volkner, one of the Sinnoh boys). Augustine's mouth is dry as they cover Eastern and Western Unova, and then Coastal Kalos, and his breath catches in his throat when they reach him.

"From Central Kalos, Augustine Sycamore, with a score of..."

He bites his lip.

"...Five."

It's a terrible score. A terrible, pathetic score, the lowest of eighteen tributes, and he withdraws into himself, barely hearing Sophie's own rather respectable score of seven, barely hearing Mountain Kalos, digging his nails hard into his palms to keep from crying.

The lowest score anyone has ever survived with in the Arena is seven. Sophie might survive, but he knows then, knows even more than he had known on Reaping Day, that he will not be leaving the Arena alive.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

The terrible thing about the Hunger Games, in Augustine's mind, is that it just goes by so quickly.

He has no time to fear his impending death - the next day rushes by in a blur of coaching from Drasna for the interview show that night, visits to the stylists, bonding with Artemis, and as much last-minute training as he can fit in - the stations in the training facilities downstairs have been shut down, but the gym and obstacle course are still open, and he pours every available hour into attempting them before he's rushed off to shower and get ready for the show.

At least he looks good, he decides grudgingly as the stylists usher him in front of the mirror. His hair is tied back neatly at the nape of his neck, the black suit has just enough informality to look attractive instead of stuffy, and the blue shirt (combined with the make-up) brings out the blue in his nominally grey eyes.

Sophie gives him a nervous smile when they meet backstage - she's in blue as well, in a dress the same shade as his shirt, a floaty wrap a few tints lighter wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair is pinned up and her glasses gone - she'll be using contact lenses in the Arena, glasses being too much of a liability, and her official tribute portrait has been retaken to remove them.

"You look nice," she offers, and he smiles back, feeling slightly queasy.

"Merci. So do you."

Aaron approaches; officially reaped as the female tribute, his stylist has gone for a compromise, the cut of his suit vaguely feminine but probably still better than a dress. "Hi," he says with an anxious smile, "Are you ready for your interview?"

Augustine honestly has no idea what to do other than just answer questions, so he simply shrugs. "As much as I'll ever be. What about you?"

Aaron grimaces, tugging at his jacket. "I'm just preparing myself for being called a girl a lot. If I can, I'll just talk about Bug types and my Skorupi. He's a cool little bug."

Sophie offers, "I got a Froakie, and Augustine got a Gible. It's pretty neat having a Pokemon."

Actually smiling, Augustine offers, "She's great. I think she was scared of me at first, but now I think we'll get on well." Because unlike the old days of Pokemon training, the bond between a tribute and their Pokemon can literally make the difference between life and death in the Arena.

He does not want to fail her. Not again.

Eventually, they're instructed to get in line; Augustine takes his spot after Sophie and before the Mountain girl, rocking back on his heels a little. He'll still have a while to wait - Gabby, the interviewer, will give an overview of the various tributes and (he winces) their scores, and then each tribute will get five minutes to speak. With fifteen tributes ahead of him, Augustine resigns himself to a boring hour or so of waiting.

Or - maybe not. A girl around his own age, holding a tablet and wearing a crew uniform, is giving brief instructions to the waiting tributes, and from what he can hear, her accent is distinctly Kalosian. His suspicions are confirmed when she gets close enough to talk to the Kalosian tributes, and he gives her a smile when she reaches them.

"Okay, everyone from Kalos?" she says, returning his smile. "Hi, welcome to the show! So, you'll have five minutes each to speak - do you see that spot there, where the Kanto girl is waiting? When the person in front of you is on stage, we'll take you there and set you up with a lapel mic, so you'll just have to speak normally. Just try and be as relaxed as you can, and try to ignore the audience if you're nervous - Gabby will give you questions if you can't think of anything to say, just try and have a nice, relaxed conversation! Of course," she adds with a cheeky grin, "If you want to try dazzling the crowd, that should go over great, too! Everyone got that?"

Augustine nods, along with his fellow Kalosians, and asks a question of his own. "Are you from Kalos?" he queries, "I heard your accent."

"I am!" She drops a curtsey, beaming. "Diantha Carnet. After I aged out after last year -" Oh, so she's not his own age, she must be nineteen - "I applied to start media studies here in the Capitol. I'm Gabby's apprentice."

"So you'll be doing the show yourself, one day?" he asks curiously.

She nods. "Mm-hmm. That's the plan! I've done a lot of acting back home." She drops her voice, stepping a little closer. "The Capitol sees the Games as a media event, right? So it's extremely important that you work the media parts as best as possible. I want to be able to bring out everyone's best and give them the best possible odds, and -" She hesitates a little. "And some dignity and respect during the recap shows."

Right. The recap shows where they show the events of the day, and go over each tribute's deaths. Augustine swallows thickly, hoping that Gabby's words are kind to him when he dies. "Right," he says softly.

Diantha peers at him thoughtfully. "It's making the best of a... hard situation," she explains gently. "The Games will always happen, but I want to at least help everyone."

He smiles, despite himself. Diantha seems gentle, warm - she's a Kalosian, she has faced the horrors of Reaping Day, and although she made it through unscathed, she can perhaps understand the fear they must be feeling. "I think you'll be good at that," he murmurs, and she smiles back.

"Good luck. Be relaxed, be calm, and you'll be okay," she tells them quietly, sincerely, and he knows that she believes every word.

The interviews go pretty well, all things considered.

Augustine finds his nerves replaced with an almost flirtatious, charming exterior; he's asked about his score and blithely explains that, really now, he has to save something for later (with a wink at the audience), he's asked about his life back in Kalos and he manages to inject genuine love into his voice when talking about his city, promising his parents to come home.

It doesn't feel much like himself, but the audience seems to lap it up, and Drasna informs him once they return that the betting board, which had him at 60:1 odds, now has the significantly better 30:1 odds. He may well get sponsors at this rate, sponsors that could mean the difference between life and death.

They have dinner (a last dinner, Augustine thinks morbidly) and then are sent off to bed, and Augustine showers, rids himself of make-up and glitter and the Capitol veneer he has pulled over himself, curls up in the enormous bed, and completely and utterly fails to fall asleep.

It's perhaps one in the morning when he ventures out in his pyjamas, silently taking the elevator down to the training facilities. He's not too surprised to find that there are others there - some training on their own, others gathered in groups and talking quietly, some of the rare time together that they'll actually be afforded before attempting to kill each other.

He spots Aaron, talking to a delicate-looking girl fiddling with her long lavender hair, and is waved over. Barefoot, he pads to where they are sitting in one of the habitats, this one set up like a miniature woodlands scene.

"Can't sleep either?" Aaron says sympathetically, patting the spot near him. "Come and sit with us. Augustine, this is Winona of Hoenn; Winona, this is Augustine, from Central Kalos. He's one of my allies."

Offering Winona a smile, Augustine takes the seat. "Hi. Was Aaron inviting you to join us?"

Winona brushes her hair back and nods. "If it's okay with you and - sorry, what was the girl's name? From your district?"

"Sophie." It's actually Sophie herself who answers, hovering awkwardly nearby, her glasses back on. "Sorry, Augustine, I saw you leave - I was on the sofa, I don't know if you saw me. And it's fine with me!"

Winona smiles. "That's good. It will be nice having allies. Do you have bird Pokemon?"

Aaron mouths, "She loves birds!" and Augustine chuckles.

"Kind of the opposite, really." He hasn't let go of Artemis' Poke Ball since they got back to the training centre. "This is Artemis!" The Gible in question looks around in confusion at her sudden entrance, and then shrugs and settles on Augustine's lap. Beside him, Sophie releases her Froakie, immediately peering with interest at the Skorupi that Augustine has just noticed curled up next to Aaron.

Making a fascinated sound, Winona peers at Artemis. "Another dragon!" she beams, and releases her own Pokemon, a Swablu that immediately curls up on her head, purring. "This is Bluebird. She's not quite a dragon yet, but Norman has said that she'll evolve into one. Isn't she pretty?"

"She is!" Augustine beams, offering Bluebird his hand to sniff. "My aunt has an Altaria, they're great."

"Your aunt has one?" Winona's eyes are wide.

Quietly, Augustine curses his slip. "Drasna is my aunt," he admits, "She's our mentor, she won the eighth Games. She raises dragons now."

Winona and Aaron give him thoughtful looks, and he shifts his gaze down to Artemis, now snoozing gently. He hadn't quite meant to advertise that fact, being the nephew of a victor - he knows that there will be people looking at him, wondering how a klutz like him could be related to someone who had fought for her life and won, and knows that there will be whispers of nepotism no matter what happens.

"You're lucky," Winona chuckles, "That you know your mentor already, I mean. We have Wattson -" Another of the Game veterans, Wattson is the victor from the third Games, now in his forties - "And Norman. Norman's kind of cute, but way too serious... I wish we had Steven as our mentor."

She pouts, and Augustine hides a smile. Norman is the winner from seven years earlier, a driven man in his twenties, and Steven is much closer to their age. "Maybe they only use the younger victors as mentors if there's no older ones?" he suggests, "You guys have a ton of victors from Hoenn, right? You're one of the powerhouses."

Laughing again, Winona shrugs. "I suppose so. I don't think this is our year, though. Neither myself nor Bran - he's my district partner - are very strong." Her expression darkens. "He's only twelve."

Augustine's expression falls; the reality is that most of them will be dead by the time the week is through, including the children. He nods soberly, then recalls Artemis and stands. "We should go back to bed," he says softly, "It's already the first day. And once we get in the Arena..." He smiles, sad and frustrated. "Well, I don't think anyone will be sleeping well at all..."

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

How did I get here?

The Arena is hot and sticky with humidity, an unearthly blue sky stretching over his head, so bright it seems unnatural. A breeze, heavy with salt, stirs his hair and the sea of golden grasses that surround them; he can hear birds calling. Surrounding them is jungle, vivid green against the blue sky and gold grass; to his left, a grassy slope leads upwards to some other destination.

Before him is the bright gold of the Cornucopia; surrounding it are eighteen tributes, balanced on their platforms, all of them probably mindful of the mines planted around them should they take a step too early.

Why did they have to call my name?

Augustine takes all this in in an instant, sucking in a breath. He now understands the almost porous uniform he has been given; the grey material that makes up the uniform from neck to knee is thicker and grey, the short sleeves and lower legs white mesh, the shoes thin and flexible. There's a belt, dark grey and almost rubbery, containing a single clip to hold Artemis' Poke Ball. On his back in glossy white is the number eight for Central Kalos; his hair is tied back.

It isn't fair!

One hand strays to his left wrist. After wearing it for over a week, the absence of his grandfather's watch feels alien and bare. He had given it to Drasna after breakfast, along with letters to give to his parents and to Meyer if he dies.

I don't want to die.

They'll be watching him, his loved ones. Augustine wipes the terror from his face, stands up straight. His parents will be watching in the Victor's Village, Meyer and his siblings will be crowded around the small television.

For them, he'll be courageous.

...I'm scared.

The announcer's voice rings out - that this is the start of the thirty-first Hunger Games. From the Cornucopia, projected so everyone can see it, the countdown from ten begins. He manages to spot Sophie and catches her eye, nodding once; Aaron is not far away. There is a bag not ten paces away from where he stands, bulging with what he's hoping is essential equipment.

The countdown reaches zero.

May the odds be ever in your favour.

He runs.

One hand wraps around the strap of the bag at the same time as something hits him hard in the side, sending him sprawling in the grass. Another tribute, he thinks wildly, struggling to push himself upwards, to run fast and get out of there, but the tribute has straddled his hips and punched him hard in the stomach; he wants to double over, wheezing, but can't with the weight of the other tribute on him, and he kicks out frantically, trying to dislodge them, trying to swing the bag he's still holding at them.

The next blow strikes him in the face and he yelps as stars burst in front of his eyes, already stinging with panicked tears because he can't fight them off, he can't, and he didn't even make it out of the Cornucopia bloodbath -

But it's not his blood that he sees, red in the sunlight - there's a knife protruding through the other tribute's chest, and Aaron's voice screaming, "Run! Augustine, go!", and he shoves the dead weight of the other tribute off him and hauls the bag he hasn't let go of all this time up on one shoulder, and he runs, and runs, and runs.

He doesn't stop until the Cornucopia is far in the distance and he's surrounded by jungle as far as the eye can see, and the cannons are booming out their insidious death toll. He pauses by a tree and counts them - there's seven, seven out of eighteen gone so far, and that means that he and ten others are still alive.

He hopes three of them are Sophie, Aaron, and Winona. He hopes they're safe, that they have supplies and got away from the Cornucopia.

Settling down against the tree, Augustine lets out a sigh, listening hard. He can't hear anything other than wind in the trees, the sound of birds (hopefully actual birds, and not muttations), and something he can't quite identify - a soft, rhythmic pattern, almost a white noise. Certainly no tributes (unless they're being so quiet he can't find any trace of them).

Keeping an ear out, he finally opens the pack, checking out his supplies.

It's not too bad. There's a good, strong length of rope, a sheet of plastic-looking material that looks thin but may serve as a blanket for this tropical heat, a lightweight metal tin and cup, and a small knife - probably no good as a weapon, but it should serve in other ways, at least. There's also a hat, bright blue and wide-rimmed, with a cord to hold it in place, and it's deeply unfashionable but will still serve if he has to go out in the sun. He grins to himself - it looks ridiculous.

He has equipment, so that's a start. He doesn't have a weapon (but then, he never intended to use fighting to survive), and he doesn't have food or (more critically) water. They will have to be his next priority.

The path from the Cornucopia leads downhill. Packing everything back in the bag, resting two fingertips briefly on Artemis' Poke Ball to reassure himself that she's still there, he shoulders the pack again and sets off.

It's not too long before he manages to find the source of the mysterious rhythmic sound. The Arena, it seems, is a tropical coast (or, perhaps, an island), and the sound is waves breaking on the beach. He gazes at it in fascination - the sound is not quite like the waves he had heard from the ship, and he has never actually visited a beach before, and it's so charming that he briefly forgets that he's actually in the Arena, a participant in the Hunger Games.

Augustine shakes his head. He needs food and water, and while there is rather a lot of water in front of him, it's salty. He's sure one of the stations in the training centre covered this, and he goes through his pack again, frowning.

The tin and the cup. That's it.

Setting his bag down, he releases Artemis, who looks around with some perplexity at their surroundings. "Artemis," he says, and his voice cracks a little - this is the first thing he's said in the Arena. "I need to get us some fresh water. Keep watch for anyone else, okay?"

She makes an affirmative sound, her expression grimly serious, and he'd laugh at such a thing on such a round little dragon if it wasn't quite so dire. And he gets to work.

"Water evaporates, right?" he says clearly to her as he sets up the solar still. "So what you do is you fill the pan with salt water, and you put the cup inside it. And this material is really plastic-y, see? So what I'm going to do is cut a bit off, and prop it up above the pan with sticks. And you weigh down the middle with..." He looks around, scanning the sand, and scoops up a small chunk of broken-off coral. "With a rock or something. Then, when the water starts to evaporate, it'll collect in the cup without the salt."

This is one of Drasna's pieces of advice - to "be clever where they can see it", to narrate what he's doing. He's smart, and that will get sponsors - if he can avoid the other tributes, he just may well survive.

He's more calm now, focused, away from the Cornucopia and the other tributes, with a task at hand. This is what will help him survive.

Artemis lets out a sudden noise - soft but alarmed - and Augustine stiffens, dumping out the contents of the solar still and snatching the tin, cup, and cloth. There's an overhanging near the beach, and he takes off for it, Artemis hot on his heels, secluding himself and pulling the little Gible close. There's someone coming - all of his cleverness won't be for anything if he gets stabbed in the back.

"Look - footprints," someone says, and he almost swears before he realises it's Sophie's voice.

Visibly relieved, he scrambles (noisily) free, finding all three of his allies alive and well. "I should have covered those up," he says sheepishly, "Are you okay?"

Aaron nods, giving him a tired smile. "Sophie has a bad cut on her arm," he explains, "But we've bandaged it up. And I jarred my ankle a bit. Are you okay? You got punched pretty hard, you're going to have a massive bruise."

Augustine grimaces, raising a hand to his tender cheekbone. "I'm okay. I have a pretty hard head," he jokes weakly, shoving the rest of his still back in the pack. "What supplies did you get? I have a blanket and some rope and stuff, but no food or water."

"I got food!" Winona grins. "Just a little bit, though. There's some dried fruit and nuts. And Sophie got a water flask, although it's empty."

"Okay," Augustine nods, "We have to make water our first priority. It's really humid, so we'll dehydrate fast through sweating -" Pointedly, he pauses to sweep his damp hair out of his face - "And we can last a lot longer without food than without water. I have things to make a solar still, but that only makes a really small amount."

"There should be an easier source!" Sophie pipes up, "Like a stream or something - or maybe it'll rain. I don't think they'd intend for us to just sit around with stills for the entire Games, that'd be boring."

Winona grimaces. "Like the one in the desert. That was frustrating to watch."

Nodding again, Augustine brushes sand off his uniform. "Okay, I think we should go back into the jungle and -"

He cuts off, voice catching in his throat. They have been careless, speaking too loudly - others must have followed their voices, for there are figures in the trees, flashes of light as Pokemon are released.

"Flame Wheel!"

"Thunderbolt!"

"Bite!"

"Block Thunderbolt!" Augustine nearly shrieks, and Artemis' stubby legs propel her upwards, hurling herself between the Thunderbolt that would have struck Sophie, the attack safely deflected away. Augustine throws himself to the side, the flames from what he can now see is a Cyndaquil extinguishing as the Fire-type rightens itself, and Sophie throws him a brief grateful look as she sets her Froakie on the Cyndaquil.

One of the figures in the trees holds up a hand, barking, "Pikachu, fall back!" It's Volkner, Augustine realises, and he holds a hand out to Aaron. "Aaron, man, come with us," he says, almost hesitantly. "Team Sinjoh. You don't need these guys, okay?"

Aaron's hand tightens on the Poke Ball holding his Skorupi, now growling with menace at the Totodile one of the other Johto tributes has. "Sorry," he says simply, "Scorp, Bug Bite!"

The Skorupi launches itself at the Totodile, and Augustine whips around to find Artemis. "Sand Tomb!" he barks, flinging a hand at the Cyndaquil, and it lets out a shriek he actually feels guilty about as sand starts whipping around it, forcing him to half-close his eyes so he's not blinded by his own Pokemon's attack.

"Bite!" the girl with the Totodile snaps again, now free of the Skorupi's grasp.

It happens very quickly.

Winona's Swablu sweeps out of her hair to defend her trainer, and the Totodile's jaws close around it. She screams at the spray of red, launching herself in tearful rage at the girl from Johto, but the girl is armed with a knife as well and Winona stops short, her expression stunned, hands flying to her throat.

She falls to the sand almost gracefully.

Aaron recalls his Skorupi and grabs Sophie's arm. "Go!" he shouts, "Run!" and Augustine recalls Artemis and sprints off after them, furious tears making him stumble, leaving Winona at the mercy of the other tributes but safe, safe for now, still alive.

The cannon fires.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

"No deaths today."

Sophie crawls back under the makeshift tent, having volunteered to be the one to peer out through the rain to see who the casualties of the second day had been. No one, it seems, and she wrings out her hair, shuffling into a more comfortable position in the tiny space.

The tent - really, the fabric from Augustine's pack tied in place with rope - is really not big enough for three teenagers, but they're making do. They had set it up late in the afternoon, when the first rumble of thunder had shook the air; after getting caught in the downpour the first night, they have now learned their lesson.

"So we're still at nine?" Aaron clarifies, then nods. "Okay. I guess that's... okay."

Half gone, Augustine silently adds, half of them are already dead. Seven from the Cornucopia, one just after the rain had started the day before... and Winona, their ally and friend. They had watched the faces in the sky solemnly - both tributes for Hoenn and Eastern and Western Unova were now dead. The girl from Kanto was dead. The boy from Coastal Kalos was dead. The girl from Mountain Kalos was dead.

Augustine can't even remember the names of the last two.

But he's still alive. Against all odds, he's made it through the second day, and so have Sophie and Aaron.

It's a start.

They had run from the confrontation that had killed Winona, run and put as much distance between them and the other tributes as possible. Once it was clear that they were not being followed, they had relaxed somewhat, setting grief aside and exploring the Arena - it had turned out to be an island after all, fringed mostly by beaches but with cliffs rising steeply in some parts, and other parts a jumble of rocks that they have had to navigate carefully (and here, Artemis has proven her worth, able to secure a smooth path through them).

They had fished for food, found berries (prompting a moment of alarm when Augustine had sliced one open and had found the flesh sickly white - it seemed that some of the oran bushes, the ones with the smooth leaves instead of serrated, were poisonous lookalikes), and then turned inland to find more reliable shelter, knowing that they were exposed on the beach. The rain had started as the sky had darkened, and they had drank their fill, storing as much as they could for the next day.

And the next day had now come and gone and they are facing the second night, and they are still alive.

Augustine sighs and stretches as best as he can (it's not exactly easy, and he feels significantly cramped compared to his teammates - Sophie and Aaron are both only fifteen and also apparently not made of arms and legs), settling back against the tree that the tent is strung up to. "So - should we start dinner?" he half-jokes.

Aaron nods, pulling out the tin from his own pack. When the rain had dried that morning, they had cooked the fish (an undersized Finneon, and his guilt about eating a Pokemon is pushed aside by his hunger), and now he shares it around, along with leftover berries (already sliced in half) and a rare and valuable gift - a sponsor gift of bread and soft cheese, which they spread on the crusty loaf and top with the fish.

It's actually a rather nice meal.

They take turns holding tins and cups outside in the rain to get their fill of water, then settle in for the night - if any of the tributes want to sneak up on them under the cover of rain, there's not a great deal they can do about it, really, other than having at least one person awake at all times. It's now Augustine's turn - but it's still only early in the evening, and there is plenty of time yet before Sophie and Aaron will need to sleep.

So they talk.

"You have a boyfriend?" Sophie asks sleepily, fighting back another yawn. "Are you gay or bi?"

"Mm-hmm - I'm gay. And you might have seen him at - when we said goodbye to everyone," Augustine confirms, "He was one of the people that visited me."

She shakes her head. "No, you were already finished when I came out," she says softly. "Do you miss him?"

Augustine nods, throat tight. "Yeah. He's - we weren't dating long. But I liked him a lot."

It actually takes him a moment to realise that he had used past tense to refer to Meyer, and he winces, hoping that he hadn't actually heard that part.

"It must have been nice, having a boyfriend or girlfriend - oh, I'm bi," she smiles sadly. "I never had one. I never got the chance."

"I had a girlfriend for a bit," Aaron volunteers, "But we broke up. We stayed friends, though."

They're all using past tense.

Augustine musters a smile. "Maybe all three of us will tie and you can go out with each other?" he half-jokes, and Aaron levels a light punch at his shoulder. Sophie, in the dark, flushes a little. He grins.

The time for the first watch comes, and he takes his position at the front of the tent, Artemis' Poke Ball in one hand, the tiny knife in the other. He'll keep them safe until the time comes to sleep, and in the mean time, he looks up at the sky, looks up to where he hopes Meyer will be watching, and quietly says goodnight.

The girl from Johto, the one who killed Winona, dies some time the next day. Augustine's first feeling when he sees her face in the sky is that of relief, and quietly, he hates himself for what the Arena has turned him in to in just three days.

The next one to die is Sophie.

It's an Arena trap, one of the many myriad ways the Capitol has to murder the tributes. Their only warning is a soft hiss of gas and then a sharp click, and then Sophie gasps, arm flying to her shoulder. There's a trio of darts embedded in the mesh of her uniform, and she takes a few uncertain steps backwards before her legs crumple beneath her.

The darts are stained with purple.

Augustine cries out her name, dropping to his knees beside her and gingerly tugging out the darts. They must have only been shallow, only a few drops of blood escape, but there's an empty capsule on each one, the residue of purple goop still sizzling in them, and a telltale smell that immediately makes horror curdle in his stomach. "They're poisonous," Sophie says, her voice weak, "Aren't they?"

Reaching for her other hand, he squeezes it gently, throat too tight to talk, and nods once.

Aaron has been standing, rooted to the spot, all this time; now he sinks to the ground behind Sophie and pulls her on to his lap. "We'll get an antidote," he says, and his voice is thick with tears. "Come on - Byron, Crasher - Drasna - please."

There's silence, only the sound of the wind, the distant waves, Sophie's laboured breathing.

"It hurts," Sophie whispers, and wipes her eyes. Like pulling down the blinds, determination crosses her face, and she grits her teeth. "I think - I used the poisons station - I think it's Weezing poison. And it's slow, and I don't want to die like this. And..." She swallows roughly. "I - I want one of you to help kill me. So... so it's quick."

"I can't," Aaron says, and his voice cracks hard. "Sophie -"

If Aaron can't do it, then he'll have to. Augustine finds his voice and squeezes her hand. "I'll try," he whispers.

She smiles, her eyes damp. "Merci."

Because she's from home, and he won't let her suffer, he won't condemn her to a long, lingering, painful death. Aaron kisses her once on the cheek, just gently, and carefully helps her settle in Augustine's arms, and then stumbles into the jungle, crumpling at the bottom of a tree and burying his face in his arms.

"Think about home," Augustine murmurs to her, his voice trembling as he reaches up to stroke her hair, settling his hands on either side of her head. "Think about Lumiose City in winter - just at the start, when it's cold enough to start turning the rain into snow and it comes down in little flakes that get caught in the wind and make patterns. Think about green grassy areas in spring, when there's flowers everywhere, and you can hide in the grass and meet Pokemon and they're completely unafraid of you, they'll come right up and lick your fingers. Think about - about getting galettes from that stand on Northern Boulevard, when they're so fresh the pastry almost melts in your mouth, and you swear you've never tasted anything so good..."

She smiles, even through her tears, and mouths, "Merci," and he twists sharply. The cannon fires.

He folds her hands over her chest, tucking her Froakie's Poke Ball under them, silently picks up her pack, and turns his back and leaves, dropping down next to Aaron and resting his head against the other boy's. His eyes are wet but he's refusing to cry, knowing it won't help Aaron, and there's a choked sound as Aaron curls up against him.

"Thanks," he whispers, reaching up to scrub his face, "I couldn't - I -"

"It's okay," he says numbly, and there's a wash of wind as the hovercraft emerges, clawed arm dropping through the trees and bearing her away. "It's okay."

Sophie is dead, and it may have been the Arena's trap that caused it, but he is still the one to end her life, and he knows, knows that it'll never be the same, that if he survives, he will always carry that with him. He has ended a life, and that stain is a part of his soul for now and for eternity.

"We should part ways," Aaron says hollowly. "We'll probably both do better on our own. We were talking, so we didn't see the trap..." He shakes his head, straightening up. "It's better this way."

"I won't kill you," Augustine swears. "I promise. Even if it's just the two of us at the end."

Aaron gives him a look that clearly indicates that being the final two wouldn't be good for either of them, and nods. "I promise too. You're safe from me, anyway."

They split their belongings evenly then shake hands, Augustine managing a weak smile. "May the odds be ever in your favour," he quips gently, and Aaron shakily laughs.

"Yeah. You too."

The Arena is lonely without a friend at his side. Unsure what to do next, Augustine starts back down towards the beach, intending to catch another fish for his dinner that night. If the rain sticks to its schedule, he'll have perhaps an hour to cook it and build a shelter.

There's a scream. Augustine turns on his heel and runs, because that's Aaron's voice, and it's not fair, it's not, he can't lose two allies, two friends in the same hour, it's not fair, it's not fair.

But it's true. It's not fair, but it's true, because Aaron is curled up on the ground, face growing white, and when the boy from Johto looks up sharply at his approach, Augustine doesn't even hesitate before dropping to the ground and grabbing a rock, hurling it as hard as he can at the boy's head.

Perhaps it's surprise at such a display of aggression that makes the boy from Johto simply stand there, not dodging. Perhaps it's grief and anger that sharpens Augustine's accuracy. But whatever it is, the boy drops to the ground, groaning, half-dazed, and Augustine's foot buries itself in his gut.

The cannon fires. Augustine kicks, punches, and the boy from Johto lapses into unconsciousness, and another blow would possibly kill him, but he's out cold and some creeping horror makes Augustine's muscles seize, because this boy might have killed Aaron but he can't kill someone who can't defend himself.

He drops to his knees.

He wrestles the Johto boy's pack off his back, shrugging it on to his own, and then turns to Aaron's side. "Sorry," he whispers brokenly, taking his pack as well, and then he turns and runs, runs away, runs as far as he can and does not stop.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

At the end of the fourth day, Sophie and Aaron's faces light up the sky and Augustine stands in the rain, facing them, apologising, saying goodbye.

At the end of the fifth day, all is quiet again.

It's nearing evening on the sixth day when Augustine has to run for his life again - there are mutts, mutts he thinks may be based on Sawsbuck, but these are definitely not herbivores, not with those teeth, and he scoops Artemis up under one arm and crashes through the undergrowth, not really caring if the remaining five victors see or hear him because, frankly, anything is better than being eaten by a deer.

If nothing else, that's just embarrassing.

One rakes at his ankle with razor-sharp teeth and he shouts as the flimsy mesh fabric gives way, a sharp pain shooting up his leg. Ankle burning with every step, he launches himself in another direction, crashes through a bush, hurls himself over a log, and then screams as he feels the sickening lurch of a distinct lack of solid ground beneath him, twisting as he falls. He hits the ground hand-first and feels a sharp crack, but there's no time to acknowledge the pain as he rolls into the hollow at the base of the undercut cliff and calls out, "Wall!" to Artemis.

A solid wall of rock shoots up between himself and the pursuing carnivorous deer, leaving just enough of a gap for him to breathe, and he manages a feeble, "Good girl" to the Gible before promptly passing out.

It's quieter when he comes to, groaning softly. His wrist feels like it's on fire and his ankle feels as cold as ice, and the frantic Gible who's just jumped on his stomach isn't really helping him feel any better, although, really, he can't blame her for being worried.

"Are they gone?" he whispers, and she makes an affirmative sound. "Okay. Get rid of the wall."

The rock crumbles, and Augustine carefully rolls out, inspecting his injuries. The bite marks on his ankle are mostly clotted, although he's certain they'll start bleeding again as soon as he starts walking, and his wrist is... definitely broken, if the angle is any indication. One small grace is that it's his left wrist, not his dominant right one, but he's going to have to set it and it is going to hurt.

Carefully shouldering off his pack, cautious not to jostle his broken wrist, he digs through it one-handed. Now containing the contents of four different packs, he has a small roll of bandages, and he braces one end under his good heel, grips the other end with his teeth, and slashes it in half with the little knife. Now he can use the longer length to wrap his ankle - it's not perfect, but it'll do in a pinch - and for his wrist...

He almost passes out again when he snaps the bones together, needing to spend a good few minutes whimpering in a ball on the ground. If any other tributes had shown up then, he probably would have let them kill him and put him out of his misery. But he remains stubbornly not-dead, and so carefully reaches for a thick, sturdy stick, presses it against his arm (suppressing another whimper), and wraps the bandage around it as tightly as he can with one shaking hand.

It's… good enough, he supposes.

Carefully pushing himself up, Augustine shoulders the pack again, biting his lip against the pain. He needs to find shelter, and fast - while he doesn't think he's been out for too long, it's getting near time for the rain, and he doesn't think the undercut cliff will be any good for shelter. There would be too much chance for water to pool there, and having survived the carnivorous deer, he's rather not keen on drowning in the night.

Limping, he presses on.

Following the line of the cliff, which seems to be getting steadily higher as he progresses, he keeps his eyes peeled for caves, anything off the ground and sheltered (or, at the very least, trees he can tie cloth to to make a makeshift tent). It's bad enough to be hurting - worse still to be hurting and soaking wet, even if there seems to be little chance of freezing in the humid jungle. And if all else fails, there's always going back to the beach, setting up a camp there, his tent strung between the palm trees.

It's almost dark when he finds it - dark gaps in the rock, some just big enough for, say, an injured teenager to slip in to, low enough to climb up to reach and high enough to be out of the way of the rain.

It looks perfect. He reaches up with his good hand, feeling for a handhold, and then stops short.

There's something wrong, and Drasna had urged him to think out loud, to narrate what he's doing. Glancing down at Artemis at his feet, he murmurs, "I don't like this. This is too easy, and - and it looks familiar, somehow."

Augustine takes a few stumbling steps back, and looks at the big picture.

"The caves are clustered, see? There's a lot of little ones right in the middle, and the bigger ones are around the edges. And..." He peers at them, then nods. "And they all slope upwards. They're sort of... grooved on the insides. This looks like..."

He gets a stick, reaches inside with one, and withdraws with a light scrap of silk, still sparking with electricity.

"Galvantula nests," he says grimly, "And there's Joltik in the middle, the Galvantula always cluster like that to protect the juveniles from all angles. Let's go. There's no shelter for us here."

It's already raining by the time he does manage to find shelter, this time closer to the water. They're near the cliffs, and already there's a short drop between the jungle and the sand; backtracking, he's able to find a safe place to climb down, finding a hollow (one that he can see all the way in to) at the base of the ledge, and crawling inside with a sigh of relief.

If nothing else, at least the uniforms dry quickly, and he's already got his dinner for the day - more fish and more berries, and he eats in silence, trying to find a comfortable position with an injured ankle and broken wrist, watching quietly as the anthem plays and shows the face of the boy from Mountain Kalos.

He's almost done with dinner when a gift arrives - the telltale beep of a sponsor gift borne by silver parachute, and he snatches it out of the air before it even hits the ground. Inside are two objects - a silver wrist brace, lightweight but sturdy, and a small pot of something that smells like antibacterial gel. With a genuine sigh of relief and a smile out towards where he hopes the cameras are, Augustine settles back in his shelter, replacing the makeshift splint with a proper brace, smearing the gel over the cuts on his ankle, and dressing it again. There's enough gel in there to last him a little while, so long as he's cautious with it - enough that he may be able to stave off infection long enough to get out of the Arena.

He's started thinking like a survivor now. There are a handful of tributes left - he intends to be one of them.

A voice calls out over the rain, "Hey."

Augustine freezes, practically holding his breath. He's been so focused on finding shelter, eating, and tending to his wounds that he didn't even look out for other tributes.

"It's okay," they continue, and the voice is weak, pained. "I'm in no... no shape to fight you. Actually, I think I'll be dead in the mo-morning."

"Are you hurt?" he calls back.

The other - a boy, he thinks - makes an affirmative sound. "It's infected," he says wearily, "If I had antibiotics, I might make it, but I haven't got any sponsor gifts the entire time I've been here. What did you get, anything good?"

Quietly, guiltily, Augustine hides the antibacterial gel in his pack. "A wrist brace," he says instead, "I broke my wrist trying to escape these carnivorous deer."

The boy laughs. "Carnivorous deer, huh? I got evil thorns. Where are you from, anyway? Kalos, right?"

"Yeah. Central - the guy they showed earlier was Mountain." There's not much hiding it with his accent, anyway. "What about you?"

"Kanto. My district partner's been dead since the Cornucopia, I've been hiding almost the entire time."

Augustine winces a little. "My district partner died two days ago," he says softly, "Her name was Sophie."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I."

A soft silence falls, broken only by the surf and the rain. It's companionable, almost, and he's starting to relax, Artemis looking a little less wary.

"I'm Johan," the boy volunteers, then pauses, making a sound of audible frustration. "Actually, you know what, fuck this whole using Unovan names only thing. I'm Kazuya. I'm from Saffron City, which was called Yamabuki City before the Unovans took over. If I'm going to die, I'm going to die with my real name."

Augustine blinks once. "Your real name?" he ventures cautiously, then adds, "I'm Augustine. I think that's the only name I have."

"Yeah, but Kalosian names are kind of close enough to Unovan names that they don't get changed. But our names are too 'foreign' for the Capitol -" There's audible sarcasm in his voice - "So we have two names. Our real names, and these stupid Unovan names. But I'm sick of being Johan. I want to be Kazuya from Yamabuki City when I die."

"Kazuya," Augustine murmurs, and nods to himself. It's a promise, he tells himself, a promise that he won't let people be forgotten if he gets out of this.

He wonders what Winona and Aaron's real names were, if Aaron had anything other than Arianne, a name to fit his culture as well as his gender.

They tell each other stories, Kazuya speaking of his home, of Yamabuki City and sneaking into Shion Town, who everyone said was haunted, of exploring the Underground Path even after it was shut down. Augustine, in turn, tells him of glittering Lumiose City and of Versant Road, where one could lie back and watch the clouds, and, perhaps, see wild Skiddo, watching the skaters perform their tricks.

He misses home. He wants to see it again. And when the cannon fires and the hovercraft bears Kazuya away, and he counts the numbers down and realises that it's come down to himself, Volkner, the boy from Johto, and one other he can't quite recall, he decides he is going to survive.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

She says, "I grew up on the Muraille Coast. I know how to swim. I'm getting out of here."

Augustine is standing on the beach with Farris, the tribute from Coastal Kalos. They are down to three - the day before, the face of the boy from Johto appeared in the sky, and he can't say he's too disappointed. And now there's three - himself, Farris, and Volkner, the boy from Sinnoh.

He smiles weakly at Farris. "Good luck," he says, and it's sincere. "And be careful. We don't know what's past the reef."

She rests a hand on his shoulder briefly, smiles, sets down her pack, and wades into the water. The sparkling water almost dazzles him as she starts swimming, moving confidently over the reef and in to the deeper waters, her strokes measured and precise.

The glare on the water is starting to hurt. He shields his eyes, rubbing at them briefly, and when he opens them again he has just enough time to see her hand disappear beneath the waves.

He stands there, because there's nothing he can do - he doesn't know how to swim - and waits for the cannon to fire. And then he picks up Farris' pack, turns, and leaves, because he knows now what Volkner knows - that they are now down to two.

Volkner scored a ten. He scored a five. The odds are not in his favour - but he's survived this far.

He's going to have to be smart about this, and to out-think him. Volkner is likely a formidable opponent, and Augustine is almost positive that he will not be able to defeat him in a straight fight - so he's going to have to be clever, to show the Capitol that he's planning something big and to ensure that the conditions favour him.

He's seen what happens when it gets down to the final two. They can't stay hiding forever, or the Gamemakers will drive them together. He needs to take action.

The first thing he does is pick his location.

Near the cliffs are the networks of caves. No Galvantula traps here, these are genuine sea caves, and in one of them - a beautiful, sparkling, perfectly blue pool fringed with white sands and with the sun slanting in through gaps in the ceiling - he has spotted something important.

Jellicent.

"There's Jellicent in those caves, Artemis," he says out loud as they make their way over the sand to where the caves start. "But, see, you can't see them really well - I only did because the angle of the sun was right. I bet Volkner won't know that they're there."

Not until it's too late.

He keeps himself busy, finding shelter in one of the smaller caves nearby when night falls, nodding once at Farris' face in the sky. Now Volkner will know who he's up against, and he keeps himself relatively warm and comfortable, eating the fish he had caught in the morning (and oh, holy Arceus, he's sick of fish, guilt about eating Pokemon notwithstanding) and going through his supplies.

He most likely won't need these for much longer. Either he'll be safe back in the Capitol, or he'll be dead.

"This will be big," he keeps saying to Artemis over the course of the evening, "This will either work amazingly or blow up in my face." He needs to keep their interest, keep them ready and waiting with the promise of a show ahead. It's not enough just for one of them to die - he needs to make it a media spectacle.

He needs to be clever where they can see it.

As the rain slows to a drizzle as the morning arrives, he sets out. Back in the cave, he's left most of his belongings - the pack, the cloth, the now-empty container of antibacterial gel, what little remains of his food after he's had breakfast. He does take the rope and the small knife, and he busies himself by cutting large, thick leaves, tying them in place around his limbs to give them at least a little protection. He makes no attempt at stealth, even standing on the edge of the cliff, letting the sun rise behind him, before he makes his way into the cave.

"This will be good shelter," he tells Artemis out loud as he leaves obvious footprints in the damp sand, "We can wait him out here." His voice is loud, carrying, echoing as he removes her Poke Ball and sets it as far back from the water as he can, pausing in front of the Gible.

"Whatever happens," he whispers, "Don't go into the water."

He gives the warning just in time. Volkner has arrived.

"I have to admit, Five, I kind of forgot you were still alive," Volkner says as he strides forward, his Raichu at his side and a scimitar in his hand. "I think I assumed that you would have died early on."

"Central Kalos is region eight," Augustine says with a slight frown, hand tight around the handle of his knife.

Volkner smirks a little. "I know. You only scored a five, though. I was kind of hoping for a tougher final opponent, it's a bit boring otherwise. You killed anyone yet, Five?"

Augustine stands his ground, circling a little, edging closer to the water. "No."

"I have. Bruno. The guy from Johto." Augustine blinks; Volkner notices. "Yeah, I know we were allies. But he thought I had outlived my usefulness. But he only scored a nine..."

"And I scored five, so I'm easy pickings?" Augustine almost smiles. The water is lapping at his toes now. "Where did you get the Thunderstone, anyway?"

Volkner shrugs. "Sponsor gift. I guess they thought I deserved it." He makes a sudden move towards Augustine, and he wades further into the water. "You know, retreating to the water won't help."

Augustine shrugs. "My feet were hot. I got sunburned, see?" He gestures to his leaf coverings.

"Well," Volkner says, "You won't have to worry about sunburn much longer."

He lunges, and Augustine turns and plunges into the water, knowing that this may well be the last thing he ever does. He can't swim, he knows he can't, and there's the Jellicent - the Jellicent that are waiting just below the surface, translucent blue and almost hidden, their tentacles rippling with poison.

But he has leaf protection. Volkner does not.

The water is now deeper than where he can stand comfortably, and he gulps in his breath, trying to remember everything about how to tread water. Volkner is already level with him, just a few metres off, and behind him is a sliver of movement that does not appear to be the current of the water…

He feels the tentacle wrap around the leaf coverings on his lower leg at the same time that Volkner screams.

Augustine shakes his leg fiercely, and the tentacle retreats, finding nothing edible about the leaf coverings; he turns back to shore and starts paddling, almost flailing in the water, but knowing that the Jellicent have Volkner now and there's nothing more he can do, that he just has to ensure that he gets himself out of this. Another tentacle reaches for his arm and he fights back a shriek of pain as it slaps against his unprotected hand, slashing at it with his blade, struggling against the one newly wrapped around his calf and stinging against his knee and ankle, and he has to get to shore, he has to -

But he still doesn't know how to swim, and the shore seems a million miles away, and Artemis is running towards the waterline -

"Non!" he chokes out, swallowing a mouthful of seawater, but she's stamping one little dragon foot and suddenly the land beneath him is rising, sand and water streaming, and he's gently dropped on the shore as he gasps and struggles to get air back into his lungs, the poison from the Jellicent's tentacles making him tremble and shiver.

"Get - Volkner out," he chokes, then lies down on the sand, rolling on to his back and staring up at the sky. He can't do this - let them face each other properly, and may the best survive, he can't condemn Volkner to a watery grave.

Volkner is dumped unceremoniously on the sand next to him, and he turns his head to find him shaking, almost convulsing, moaning in agony. The scimitar is long gone. A few tentacles are still wrapped around his limbs, the mesh affording no protection at all, and Augustine manages to crawl over and slash them with his knife, falling back as he does.

Volkner is laughing.

"I didn't see that coming," he whispers, his voice ragged now. "So that was what the leaves were for. Well played, Five. You're tough."

"I got lucky." Augustine's chest hurts; he suspects the Jellicent poison is paralysing his respiratory system.

Shaking his head, Volkner rolls over on his side. "No. You were smarter than me." He musters a smile. "They might have said I was the top tribute, but you earned this."

Augustine's eyes are damp. "I just want to go home."

"Would have been nice to go to Lumiose. It's supposed to be really pretty." Volkner manages a smile. "Say hi to it for me."

"I will."

There's silence for a long few minutes. Volkner's eyes are closed, and Augustine waits, focusing on keeping breathing, focusing on not losing consciousness. Slowly, painfully, he pushes himself to his feet and turns to retrieves Artemis' Poke Ball; the Gible trots over and picks it up herself.

"Thanks," he whispers, and stumbles out of the cave, Artemis hot on his heels.

He turns to the water, watching the light sparkle on the waves.

The cannon fires.

"The winner of the thirty-first annual Hunger Games," comes the announcement from all around him, "From district eight, Central Kalos... is Augustine Sycamore!"

"Oh good," Augustine says, and crumples to a heap on the sand.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

The first thing Augustine thinks when he comes to is, "Did I really just say 'oh good' to winning the Hunger Games?"

The second thought is, "...I won the Hunger Games."

He's stretched out on his back in a rather comfortable bed, with the uncomfortable sensation of something clamped to his face. Blinking sluggishly, he raises a hand - his right, unbroken one - and touches it, finding it plastic and attached to a tube. He turns his head to follow it and starts; dozing in a chair nearby is Drasna.

"Auntie?" he calls softly through a throat that feels scrubbed raw, and although it's muffled by the mask, she still awakens as if by gunshot.

There's a smile spreading across her face; she stands, crosses the floor in two steps, and carefully and gently hugs him tightly. "Oh goodness, I'm so happy to see you again," she whispers, and he clings back to her, overwhelmed. "Don't worry about the mask for now - your lungs were a little damaged from the poison, but there was medicine in it that's helping them recover, it'll be off soon. And your wrist and ankle will be fine. You've been out for a couple of days, you're nearly healed up."

He glances down at his wrist as best he can, finding it immobilised in some sort of brace, and nods.

Drasna sits back and smiles at him, her eyes damp. "You should rest, Augustine. You've had a trying time. A nurse will be around in a little while to switch the mask to a different sort, and bring you some food."

His stomach grows alarmingly, and they both manage a short laugh. "Good," he sighs, settling back against the pillows, "Just so long as it's not fish."

She laughs, squeezing his good hand. "No fish. Got it." Leaning over, she presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, and smiles, and it's almost convincing. "Sleep well, honey. You deserve it."

Augustine smiles sleepily, suddenly acutely aware of how tired he is. "'kay," he murmurs, and snuggles into the pillows, and sleeps.

The next time he wakes up is when the nurse arrives, switching out the bulky oxygen mask for one attached to his nose. It's a little uncomfortable, but at least he can eat - a very small bread roll, some pureed fruit, and a rather disgusting drink that is, apparently, laden with all the vitamins and minerals he's now mildly deficient in after his stay in the Arena.

And then he settles back against the pillows and thinks.

He's a victor now. He's won the Hunger Games, he's alive, he's (mostly) well. There's a tube in his nose, a brace on his wrist, a bandage on his ankle, and an IV in his arm, there's gel to rub into his sunburn (he wasn't entirely lying to Volkner about it), and there's a really disgusting vitamin drink, but he's on the mend.

He's survived the Games.

Seventeen others have not.

Sophie's life ended in a twist of his hands.

Kazuya's life ended when he made the choice to keep the medicine for himself.

Volkner's life ended the moment he tricked him into the water.

With a suddenness that actually surprises him, Augustine bursts into tears.

He knows logically that, no matter what actions he took personally, seventeen would have died anyway. He knows that even if he had hid himself away for the entire Games and survived solely by accident, others still would have died if he lived. And even if he had died... even if he had died, the end result still would have been seventeen dead teenagers.

But he was the one that made the choice to trick Volkner to his death. If he had let Volkner kill him, then...

Then Drasna and his parents and Meyer would be mourning him, just like Volkner's family will be mourning him now.

He didn't even ask Volkner what his real name was.

The Games are not fair. He knew that before, but he knows it even more acutely now, even having beaten it, having survived. He's a victor now, and that lets him see things anew - he knows what his survival has meant, knows intimately what the cost has been. It's one thing to say that the concept of the Games is unjust, is wrong - it's quite another to be able to look at the fact that he killed another boy who had just as much right to live as he did himself, and to be able to think, "This is wrong."

In the Capitol, there'll likely be parties now. His name will be listed as the victor, the triumphant hero of the Games; Volkner will be remembered as a worthy opponent. And he doesn't even know his real name.

Furiously, Augustine wipes the tears from his face. His tears won't solve anything. He can cry all he wants and the Games will continue, and he, a victor, will just have to live with it. He'll go to the recap show, he'll be interviewed, and he'll go home to the Victor's Village. In six months, he'll go on the victory tour, have to stare Volkner's parents in the face, and try not to think about how much they'll loathe him for being the reason their child is dead. In one year, he'll return to the Capitol as a mentor, and send two tributes into the Arena, and...

And...

And it'll happen again, and again, and again, and there is nothing he will ever be able to do about it.

Pushing his tray aside, Augustine lies down and closes his eyes. His appetite is gone (the other tributes will never be eating again). He has the recap show to sit through, to smile and watch his moment of triumph, to not speak of the injustice he has participated in. The least he can do is make sure he's well-rested when he does.

Drasna is a regular visitor as he recovers. The vice president of the Capitol and the Unovan Union is a slightly more surprising one.

Ghetsis Harmonia is a tall, intimidating figure, even with what Augustine personally thinks is a really ridiculous hair style. He wears a red lens over one eye (a prosthetic, apparently), not deigning to sit but rather standing over his bed. Smaller and on his back, Augustine feels ridiculously vulnerable staring up at him, fighting to keep his expression calm as the vice president congratulates him and explains the process of the recap show.

Three hours of sitting in an uncomfortable-looking throne, a ridiculous crown on his head, watching as people die... he just can't wait.

"I'm sure there will be many people waiting for you to get home," the vice president says smoothly. "Your parents, of course. Do you have any brothers or sisters? Your boyfriend, perhaps - you mentioned him in the Arena, did you not?"

Augustine glances up at him, frowning a little. "No, I'm an only child," he says slowly, "And yes, I have a boyfriend... why do you ask?"

Ew, is he hitting on me?

The vice president waves his hand. "Oh, just trying to get a picture of our newest victor. I'm sure you and he care greatly for each other. I expect you're not a virgin, then."

Ew, he is hitting on me!

"What?" he says instead, somewhere between disturbed and disgusted. "No, but that's not really your business - uh, Mister Vice President, sir."

Hands held out, the vice president shrugs. "I was merely making conversation," he says flippantly. "I'm sure you'll be able to see your boyfriend soon enough. No doubt he's very important to you."

He's hitting on me, why is he doing this, he's probably in his thirties...

"I guess I'll see him when I go home," he finally says softly. "Um - sorry, sir, I'm very tired..."

"Of course. I'll let you rest." Vice President Harmonia smiles, and Augustine is reminded of lizards with too many teeth. "You're going to need your strength."

He leaves, and Augustine shudders as the door swings shut, and his only thought is, I really need a bath...

The days pass quickly enough. His wrist bones stitch together, his lungs mend, the cuts on his ankle seal themselves up. A full day is dedicated to what the Capitol stylists call the full polish, which removes what feels like several layers of skin, the majority of his body hair, and, much to his consternation, scars that existed even before the Games.

His prep team seem excited enough, though - apparently the full polish is much in demand - and he gives in to their attentions, letting them dress him up like their new favourite doll. He's yielding as they dress him in blues again, in form-fitting golden white closest to his skin and with a sheer layer of glistening blues and soft turquoise over it, adorned with golden make up and jewellery.

It's only when he glances at his reflection in the mirror that he realises that the sheer overlying fabric and glint of metal has given him the distinct appearance of sunlight on water, of clear water in a sun-dappled cave.

The crowd screams as he walks out on to the stage, and he forces the flirtatious, charming persona he had found during the interview show (had it really only been a couple of weeks earlier? It feels like a lifetime ago) to the front, flirting with the crowd, the picture of relaxation.

All the better so they don't see how his face falls when the recaps begin to show and he sees every event, every death, in full technicolour and with full surround sound.

He watches the fight in the Cornucopia, watches as he flees the battle thanks to Aaron's help, and watches as they show close-up images of the seven dead tributes. He watches as Winona bleeds out, as the girl from Eastern Unova stumbles into a trap, and watches himself and Sophie and Aaron as discuss the deaths of the day.

The girl from Johto is killed by the boy (Bruno, Volkner said his name was Bruno, but that's not his real name, is it?).

Sophie staggers as she's struck by the poisonous darts, and Augustine looks away from the screen for the first time as his recorded image gently breaks her neck. Aaron dies; he beats Bruno unconscious.

Bruno kills the boy from Mountain Kalos. Kazuya (Kazuya, his name is Kazuya, it's not Johan, it's Kazuya) dies from his infection. Bruno turns on Volkner and Volkner fights back, electricity from his Raichu crackling across the Johto tribute's body before Volkner stabs him in the chest. Farris swims away, and the underwater camera shows what, exactly, dragged her under, and he knows that it'll haunt his nightmares for a good while yet.

And they show every minute of him planning Volkner's death, of their fight against the Jellicent. They show last words, they show last breaths. And they show Augustine standing on the cliff of the morning of the final day, silhouetted against the rising sun, painted in red light like blood, a triumphant fanfare ringing in his ears.

"What an adventure!" Gabby smiles.

He manages to smile back. He feels sick.

"Now," she's saying, "We'll be having a nice long one-hour interview with our newest victor, Augustine, tomorrow night. But before we wrap up the show for now, are there any last words you would like to say to your fans?"

Said fans scream, and he almost flinches, managing to grin instead, forcing the words he thinks sound right to his lips. "Thank you to everyone who believed in me!" he calls out, "I couldn't have done it without you - not without all your love and support. I am so glad to be able to be in your wonderful company once again!"

The crowd screams and roars their approval, and he stands, blowing kisses out to the crowd, grinning wildly, like a champion, like a victor.

The next day - his first out in the real world - passes practically in a blur. He's able to eat good food again, he's able to sleep in a bed - a proper bed - that isn't in a hospital, and he's able to wear clothes that are comfortable and clean - not a bloodstained, torn tribute uniform, not a hospital gown, not a parody of the place where he took a boy's life. His grandfather's watch is on his wrist again, cool and secure against his skin.

Drasna hovers around him protectively, as if she's afraid she'll still lose him. Multiple times, she appears to be preparing herself to say something, then stopping herself, and eventually, he asks her what the problem is.

She smiles faintly. "Tonight," she says softly, "Be careful."

His brow furrows. "I will," he says, but it's more like a question, unsure what is so dangerous about the interview show and the planned party that will follow. She spends the rest of their time coaching him, walking him through the questions that Gabby will be asking; by the time evening approaches, he's well-prepared.

It's almost over. Just one interview, and tomorrow, he can go home.

Waiting outside the interview room is Vice President Harmonia, and he gives Augustine and Drasna nods of acknowledgements. "Augustine," he says with a smile, "Best of luck with the interview. There'll be an afterparty tonight after the main one - in your honour, of course - and I do hope you'll be able to attend." He gives Drasna a glance, raising an eyebrow. "He will be attending, won't he?"

Drasna's lips tighten. She nods. "He'll be there."

Vice President Harmonia smiles. "Good," he says simply, and walks away, and Augustine is left with the interview ahead and the feeling like he just might have got himself into something dangerous...

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

There is nothing remotely dangerous about the interview show, save for, perhaps, a moment when Gabby asks about his experience the night he was injured. He slips up, here, mentioning Kazuya; when Gabby looks puzzled, he adds, "The boy from Kanto?"

"Oh! You mean Johan," she prompts.

His face falls a little. "Right - yeah, Johan."

The message is clear. Real names are not tolerated here.

It's the only slip-up, at least. He manages to keep the facade up for the interview, departs with a charming grin, and greets Drasna, who accompanies him to the farewell party they have planned. "I think that went okay," he says with a more genuine smile over drinks, smaller and tinged with exhaustion. "So - we just have some meeting and greeting to do, and then there's that afterparty, right?"

She doesn't smile back, only squeezing his shoulder almost desperately. "Before you go to the afterparty," she murmurs, hands on his upper arms, "I want you to tell you - I'm sorry. I didn't want this for you, I had hoped that they would leave you alone, but..." Her eyes are damp, he realises in stunned disbelief, although he gets the impression she's trying to hide it from the other guests. "Please try to be strong, Augustine. I'll be waiting for you when you get back. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" he asks, bewildered.

"Some people apparently are not fans of our hospitality," comes a new voice, and Augustine starts, spinning around to find the vice president close behind him. "Drasna. How nice to see you. I'd like to speak to our young victor in private, if you don't mind."

"I'm coming with him." She stares him down and follows them into the room at the side that he has gestured to, placing her hands on Augustine's shoulders protectively.

"As it is only the three of us, I feel no need to mince words. Augustine, as our newest victor, you will be, ah, 'entertaining' some of my good friends. I strongly recommend you comply. After all," he adds with a hint of distinct menace, "After all, your parents back in Kalos... your beloved aunt... your boyfriend... his many younger siblings... it would be such a shame if your parents were involved in an accident, or if Central Kalos suddenly found itself down to one mentor, or if your boyfriend's siblings were reaped next year. Wouldn't it?"

Augustine stares at him, throat tight, feeling something hard settle at the bottom of his stomach. "Are you - are you threatening them?"

The vice president rolls his eyes. "Of course I am, boy. I thought they said you were smart."

"What are you and your friends going to do to me?" Augustine manages through a voice that isn't shaking too much, still too much in shock, frankly, to really process it.

The vice president raises a green eyebrow. "Do you really need me to spell it out?" he says dryly.

His mouth goes dry. 'Entertaining'. "No," he whispers, and he turns back to his aunt, unable to find the words to say anything, unable to articulate the slow horror that's slowly overtaking him, only giving her a desperate, terrified look.

She mouths an apology, and Vice President Harmonia sets a heavy hand on his shoulder and leads him back into the fray.

It's surprisingly anticlimatic, once the time comes to depart one party for the other. The vice president leads him to a train station beneath the media centre and swipes a pass, and the train carries them smoothly away.

Neither speak.

They arrive at a luxurious-looking station beneath, he's told by the vice president, the Presidential Palace. There is an elevator waiting for them, and Augustine is led inside.

He does not speak.

His heels click on the marble floor. Augustine is tall, but the vice president is taller, and twice he nearly stumbles as he's almost dragged along, being led to a room towards the back of the complex. Already there is the sound of loud music and merriment, and the vice president's hand tightens on his shoulder.

"Don't forget," he almost hisses, "Be good."

Augustine does not speak, and Vice President Harmonia opens the door and almost pushes Augustine out in front of him. "My dear friends!" he calls out, arms spread wide, the door closing behind them and the sound of a lock clicking into place, "May I welcome our newest victor - Augustine Sycamore!"

There's immediate chatter, calls, interested guests crowding in close, and he only just manages to catch a glimpse of two of the victors from earlier years, Steven of Hoenn and Cynthia of Sinnoh, glancing up sharply before the approaching crowd hides them away again. Augustine takes a step back and collides solidly with the vice president, whose iron grip tightens around his shoulders.

"Oh, he's lovely!" exclaims one.

"What a pretty little mouth!"

"Look at those legs!"

"Such touchable skin!"

They reach for him, grasping and touching and stroking, and he tries to smile, tries not to shake too badly, tries to remember that the lives of his family and loved ones depend on this. One strokes his hand down his face then slides two fingers between his lips, and he chokes a little at the sheer brazenness of it, feels the blood drain from his face when the owner of the hand leans close and murmurs precisely what he wants to do to his mouth.

Panicked tears prickling in his eyes, there's a push between his shoulderblades from the vice president, and the crowd swallows him whole.

"Augustine?"

There's a voice. Augustine curls up tighter amidst the cushions and blankets (he will say one thing, the Capitol likes abusing their victors in comfort), one hand gripping his hair. Someone mumbles, "No more," in Kalosian; it's only after the words leave his lips that he realises that he was the one to say it.

"Hey - hey, it's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?" the voice continues, and slowly, he begins to realise that the voice is young - young and vaguely recognisable, actually. Cracking open one bleary eye, he finds that it's a fellow victor crouching in front of him - Steven Stone, the winner from three years earlier, and the youngest victor ever at fourteen years old.

Oh, Arceus, have they been doing this to Steven since the age of fourteen?

"Are you okay?" Steven murmurs, and holds out a bundle of cloth. "I have your clothes, they said we can leave now. How are you holding up?"

He finds his tongue, managing a feeble smile. "I feel like shit."

Steven smiles back sympathetically, holding a hand adorned with a pair of silver rings out to him. "I know. I'm really sorry. If it's any consolation, you kind of get used to it."

Augustine gives him an incredulous look, but still takes the hand, letting Steven tug him upright, taking his clothes and dressing with shaking hands. "Used to - to that?" he whispers disbelievingly, hands trembling too much to continue buttoning up his shirt. (Silently, Steven moves in close, fastening the buttons with hands that are precise and quick.) "How do you - how long...?"

"Since my Games." The words are short as Augustine is tugged to his feet, the Hoennite short but strong. Augustine's legs feel like jelly, and he leans on the other victor gratefully. "And it sounds awful, huh? But you really do get used to it, it's always hardest at first."

There's movement from his other side, and Cynthia, the victor from the last year, emerges into view. "Hi," she says with a sad smile, "I'm sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances, Augustine. Should we go?"

Steven nods, and the three make their way out, remaining thankfully unmolested as they head to the elevator that will take them back to the station and the tribute apartments.

Well, they're probably more mentor apartments now. All of the tributes except for himself are dead.

They stop off at the fourth floor, where Cynthia leaves them, giving them both a smile and Augustine a reassuring side hug. "See you on the train, Steven," she murmurs, and the elevator continues to rise to the eighth floor, Steven his silent support, reaching up to rub Augustine's back gently.

Drasna, with her expression stricken and her arms held out, is waiting for him. She hugs him tightly, stroking his hair, kissing his forehead, her eyes damp and apologies spilling from her lips, Steven waiting silently nearby, expression sad and drawn. Augustine clings to her instinctively, then draws back a little, feeling tainted and unclean. "Sorry," he whispers, "I can't - I don't -"

She nods once, kissing his forehead again. "Steven, why don't you help him get cleaned up?" she prompts gently, "I'll make some coffee for us for when you're out."

Steven nods once, turns to Augustine for his consent (he nods, hating the feeling of being filthy, still feeling their hands on him), and leads him by hand to his room and ensuite.

"Do you want me to help you?" Steven murmurs as they reach the bathroom. "If you want some time to yourself, I can just wait outside the door or something."

Augustine clings to Steven's hand desperately, not wanting to be alone, wanting someone that will understand.

They strip off unself-consciously (how could they be self-conscious now, after what they've both endured, though?) and Steven turns the water on - hot, clean, free of perfumes and soaps and dyes, leading Augustine into the shower. His hands feel like they're not a part of him; he stares at them numbly when Steven offers him the soap. The other victor smiles sadly, as if understanding precisely why Augustine can't seem to work his body, and helps wash the filth from his skin.

He's yielding when Steven leads him out again, stands him on the vent to dry him off, and fetches him clean clothes, helping him dress again. Again, he's led out by hand to the lounge area where Drasna, true to her word, has coffees for all of them; he finds himself sandwiched between his aunt and Steven, sipping his coffee mechanically.

There's a dreamy, unreal feeling about the whole thing. He feels like his body is someone else's, like the grasping hands has pulled his soul from his body, like the person sitting between Drasna and Steven is someone else. He can barely feel Drasna stroking his back, he can only just acknowledge Steven's leg pressed against his own, warm through the fabric; the coffee tastes like dust.

He raises one hand, looks at it blankly, and drops it back to his lap, the coffee cup nearly falling to the floor. Quickly, Steven wraps a hand around Augustine's own, supporting the cup until his limp fingers grip it again. The heat leeches through the porcelain of the cup; he stares down at it.

His hands feel cold and numb; he clings to the warmth gratefully, feeling coming back into his fingers.

"Steven," Drasna says gently, "Why don't you head back? I'll look after Augustine from here."

Steven nods, setting the empty cup down, twisting the rings around. "Okay. Augustine, take care, okay?" Reaching out, the Hoennite squeezes Augustine's shoulder, smiling sadly again. "I'll see you next year."

Next year, when he'll have to do this all over again.

Drasna waves Steven off, then pulls Augustine into her arms, holding him like he's a little boy and not a seventeen-year-old who's already taller than her. She rocks him and hums, stroking his hair, and there's something in his chest that feels like it's about to burst, like his limbs are icy cold and burning hot all at once, and his eyes are stinging and smarting, and then something cracks and he starts to cry.

This is his life now, and there's nothing he will ever be able to do about it. It hasn't finished with the end of the Games - next year, he'll be coming back to the Capitol as a mentor, and they'll hurt him again, and again, and again, and if he refuses, they'll hurt the ones he loves. In a very real sense, his life ended the moment they called out his name on Reaping Day (a few weeks ago, a lifetime ago). This is his life now, and he weeps for the life he's lost.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

Morning arrives with agonising slowness. Drawn and pale, Augustine manages to force a smile to his lips and waves to the crowd seeing him board the ship with Drasna close behind him; he cannot forget that even as he boards, there are five bodies being loaded into the cargo to be returned to their families.

Sophie is down there. So is Farris. So are three others whose names he never asked, who are now anonymous corpses in their wooden boxes.

He waves enthusiastically, warmly, as the harbour retreats into the distance, then goes into the Victor's Suite he has been appointed, lies down on the enormous bed, and immediately drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

He's awaken again within the hour, crying out, tangled in the sheets, fighting against hands that reach and grasp. Sleep, it seems, will be no comfort, and he eventually rises from the rumpled bed, showers, and dresses in clothes that still aren't his own, that still reek of the Capitol.

He wants to be at home, in his own bed, in his own house, in his own clothes (but he's not going back to his own house, is he? He and his parents have lived with Drasna since she won her own Games, but now he has a house in the Victor's Village of his own). He wants to feel safe. He wants something he knows died the moment his name was called out.

Augustine bites his lip, then pads out of the room barefoot, heading down the hall to the room Drasna has been appointed. She invites him in without further preamble, inviting him out to the balcony, rubbing his back quietly while he stares out at the ocean waves.

"Did they do it to you too?" he asks, voice soft and ragged.

Drasna nods once. "It happens to most of us," she explains, her smile sad. "Unless they're particularly favoured by the Capitol, for whatever reason - or unless they honestly don't have anyone that can be threatened. And Olympia - she escaped solely because the Capitol seems to be rather terrified of her psychic abilities." She lets out a chuckle at that, and Augustine smiles back faintly.

"Lucky her," he murmurs.

She offers him a sympathetic smile, squeezing his shoulders. "As horrible as it sounds, it'll get easier. You get used to it... and they like you best when you're young, as abhorent as that knowledge is. I'm rarely sent out to them now."

"Steven was only fourteen when - they started it when - fourteen years old! Steven was a child!" he whispers, then bites his lip sharply. "I - if I have to be a mentor now, I don't - want that to happen to anyone. If I had died in the Arena, then - it'd be someone else, Volkner or Bruno or Farris or..." Already, he's beginning to understand what the Capitol does. Becoming a victor does not ensure safety - all of the tributes are to be punished, either by death in the Arena or by abuse in the Capitol. "...Auntie Drasna?"

"Yes, Augustine?"

"Do you wish that I had died?"

She doesn't answer immediately. "You're my nephew and I love you," she says simply. "If you had died in the Arena, then perhaps you would have been spared a lot of suffering. But you're alive and well now, and I think you have a great capability to help your tributes. So no, I don't wish you had died, I just wish there was a way out of this so that they can't hurt you."

He exhales, nodding once. "What happens now?"

"Well, you're safe until the Victory Tour," she reassures him. "They'll probably, ah, require you once you reach the Capitol, but the districts will be fine. And as for the Games every year..." She frowns out at the sea. "There'll be parties, and there'll also be individuals - those who are being rewarded by the Capitol for whatever reason, or those who have paid the Capitol for, well, the privilege of spending time with you."

He starts. "Wait, it's not just like - the parties and things?" His voice is almost demanding, pitching slightly higher in fear. "You make it sound like... like they're going to whore me out or something!"

Sighing heavily, Drasna nods once. "The worst part is, you'll have to pretend to be willing and enthusiastic. That you just love visiting parties and clients -" Augustine flinches violently at the word 'client', the simple word driving home the fact that he really is to be, essentially, a prostitute for the Capitol - "And that you love whatever they want to do to you. And if they get the impression that you're not putting forward the best possible face, then it's your loved ones that pay for it."

She bites her lip, and adds, softly, "Augustine, I'm going to ask you to do something you most likely will be very unhappy about."

"What could be worse than being the Capitol's whore?" he mutters bitterly, slumping back in his chair.

Drasna doesn't respond to that. "I think you should break up with your boyfriend," she says softly, gently.

The worst part is, it makes complete sense. If he stays with Meyer, if he tells the Capitol that he cares about him, about his family, then they could hurt him if he doesn't do what he's told. Breaking up with him will hurt, but it will be the kinder action in the long run, will ensure Meyer's safety and the safety of his siblings.

Augustine stares out at the sea, and he pretends it's just the light on the ocean waves that makes his eyes sting and smart and water as he nods.

He feels no better about the whole affair by the time they sail back in to Coumarine Harbour a few days later, although the false smile on his face is a little easier to produce on demand, and he has stopped flinching at unexpected noises. At least he has a bit of privacy at Coumarine itself - no big crowds to greet him, that will be waiting for him at Lumiose - and he manages to board the train and find a cozy spot to sit before he breaks down again.

At Lumiose, he'll see Meyer again, and his parents, and while there is nothing that can separate him from his parents, he will have to break up with Meyer, and it will be for his own good.

The crowds he's expecting greet him at Gare de Lumiose, and he barely manages to keep himself from cringing and withdrawing within himself again. Meyer is near the front of the crowd, but he only has time to flash him a quick smile before his attention is dragged back to the reporters and photographers sent over from the Capitol with him, waving to the cameras, grinning, flirting, charming them over.

He won't give the Capitol the satisfaction of seeing how they broke him.

They arrive back at the Victor's Village, and he's led to his new house - just across from Drasna's, where he grew up, the layout identical, the house itself a soulless building.

Augustine waits until the reporters and photographers have left, then immediately crosses the path, returns to his home, takes the familiar stairs up to his familiar room, and collapses on his familiar bed.

He wakes up some time in the early evening, dresses in his own clothes, clips Artemis' Poke Ball to his belt, pulls up the hood of his coat, and sets off through the familiar streets. He's completely alone now, just another anonymous resident of Lumiose City, the weight off his shoulders somewhat.

But his heart is still heavy as he knocks on Meyer's door.

They sit on his bed, Meyer leaning against the pillows, Augustine leaning against him. Neither say anything, and Augustine simply enjoys the feeling of affection, of being hugged because someone wants to see him, wants to be near him, and not because they've had to pick him up off the floor.

He almost loses his nerve.

"I was cheering for you," Meyer says with a weak laugh. "All that time, I just - kept watching and hoping. You know, they interviewed me?"

He sits up slowly, half-turning to face him. "No," he says slowly, "I didn't realise - because I was in the final six, right?"

Volkner's family would have been interviewed. Farris's family. Bruno's family. Kazuya's family, the family of the boy from Mountain Kalos, whose name he does not know.

Meyer nods. "It was weird." There's a crooked smile on his lips. "I mean, having to talk about stuff while you were fighting for your life... I think Maman recorded it if you want to watch."

"Did they come here?" he asks immediately, dropping his voice to a whisper, "Do they know where you live, was there any chance they could place listening devices?"

There's a look of consternation on Meyer's face. "I don't think so," he says slowly, "No, I doubt it, they'd mess with my electronics. Your parents called me up to invite me, and we recorded at the square."

Augustine sags back against him in relief, eyes shut. Then he's still relatively safe. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and his voice cracks.

Meyer frowns. "For what?"

"I can't - we - we shouldn't see each other any more."

There's no immediate reply, save for the tension growing in Meyer's body. "Why?" he finally asks plaintively, the single syllable thick with tears. "I - did you meet someone else at the Capitol?"

"No!" he exclaims, his own eyes growing damp. "No, nothing like that, it's - this is for your own safety, I -" He chokes a little, a sob or a scream growing in his throat. "They - even if you win, it's - they hurt you, they could hurt you, I want you to be safe -"

Meyer exhales, his breath ruffling Augustine's hair. "Tell me," he suggests gently, hugging him close.

Something in Augustine breaks at the soft touch, and the words pour out, intermingled with sobbing, desperate and terrified. "They - the Capitol, just - winning doesn't mean you're safe, they still need to punish us, and - if they - they want you, they made me go to th-this party and I had to - they made me - and they do it to all of us, all the victors, unless th-they don't have anyone they care about and then they're safe, but - if they do, they - if I don't do it, they'll kill my parents or my aunt or you or reap your siblings and - don't you see? I ha-have to stay away for you o-or they'll know that I r-really like you and you'll be in danger and... I'm sorry..."

Meyer is staring at him with confusion and dawning horror in his eyes; he hugs Augustine close and kisses his temple. "What did they do?" he murmurs, his own eyes already filled with tears, almost as if he's dreading the answer.

"Hurt me," Augustine whispers. "They - hurt me and - th-they raped me. And it'll happen e-every time I'm there now, I have to be the Capitol's whore and if I don't, they'll kill you and my family."

"Merde," Meyer whispers back, the single word said with feeling. "They - I - fuck."

"Yeah," he says, and chokes out a laugh.

Meyer holds him for a long time, and Augustine remains there, comforted and warm and loved, knowing that it has to end soon but not wanting to be the one to finish it. Meyer finally speaks, his voice strained and soft. "Augustine?"

"Mm?"

"If one of my brothers or sisters is reaped..." His body tenses beneath Augustine's. "You'll be mentoring them... what happened to you... I don't want that to happen to them." He swallows audibly. "If it happens, then - then make sure... make sure that they're not put in that position."

Augustine nods, his mouth dry, trying not to think too much about the fact that Meyer has just asked him to make sure that his siblings do not survive. "Okay."

"Thanks." He presses a kiss into Augustine's hair, tilts his face upwards and presses another to his lips. "Can we stay friends?"

Augustine smiles sadly. "Yeah. I'd like that, just - just, we shouldn't be seen too much in public together. But I'd like to stay friends."

"Okay," Meyer whispers, and hugs him close again. Augustine closes his eyes and lets himself be calmed, because if this is the last time they will be together, then he intends to make the most of it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

It gets easier with time.

Augustine returns to his usual life - he stays in school and graduates with top marks, choosing to take a break before university, to allow himself time to heal from the Games.

The nightmares still come frequently, especially after Sophie's funeral (her parents thank him, and that's the worst part - they tell him thank you for easing their little girl's passing, and his dreams that night are haunted with memories of the life leaving her eyes as he snaps her neck), but Drasna is just across the road and understands when he stumbles into the house, barefoot and teary-eyed, has started stocking teas to help him sleep.

He leaves for the Victory Tour, visiting new places and doing new things, and it would be enjoyable if not for the speech he has to read in each new district, if not for having to look at Aaron's parents or Winona's parents or Volkner's parents in the eye.

The night after the speech in Sinnoh, he wakes up screaming without sound, suffocating, underwater and his lungs slowly becoming paralysed.

He reaches the Capitol and that's almost a relief, because there's no one here that he killed - just a party, and then Vice President Harmonia approaching him with a smile and saying that he'll be spending time with one of his sponsors that night. After all, this is the sponsor that paid for the antibacterial gel that possibly saved his life in the Arena; he owes this sponsor.

And he wouldn't want to seem ungrateful, would he?

He returns home. He tries not to think about what will happen in six months time, when the Games start again. He turns eighteen. Normally he would be relieved, for it would only mean one more year of Reaping Days, but they've already got their claws in him and he feels nothing.

He asks Drasna what will happen if he kills himself. She grimly tells him that the Capitol will take it out on Central Kalos - and that he will be leaving behind a family that loves him and will never leave him. He doesn't ask again.

This is his first year as a mentor, and Drasna has reassured him that he'll largely be observing only. And so he barely acknowledges the tributes, keeping himself withdrawn - Drasna can look after the two Central Kalosian tributes, and he doesn't even look at the Mountain or Coastal tributes, knowing that it will only hurt more when they die.

In his cabin on the ship, he stares out at the sea, Artemis (now a Gabite) his only company, and dwells on the Games ahead.

The parties and clients start the day he arrives.

The tributes have their dinner, and the victors have their parties, and he fights off revulsion at the hands that claw at him, and that night he sleeps in Steven's bed to fight off the nightmares.

The tributes train, they get their Pokemon, they're interviewed.

The Games start, and both of the tributes from Central Kalos die in the Cornucopia Bloodbath.

Augustine spends half an hour curled up against a toilet, throwing up until his throat feels raw and his stomach feels hollow, the image of Cosette's wide brown eyes filled with tears and her face splattered with blood printed indelibly in his mind.

Cynthia and Steven find him there, helping him to his feet, and dizzily he wonders if Cynthia hates him for killing Volkner. But they're both gentle, leading him back to the Central Kalosian apartments - Drasna is making arrangements for the bodies to be transported back home, and his fellow victors - his friends - make him hot strong coffee and rub his back until he can stand up straight again.

He gets a delivery - now that he'll be available for the duration of the Games, he has himself a rather full schedule indeed, and now more than ever, Augustine is immensely grateful to have Steven and Cynthia with him.

"This lady's okay," Steven murmurs, pointing to a name. "You don't have to sleep with her, she's kind of an eccentric older woman - she'll make you wear skimpy underwear and an apron and clean her apartment." There's a grin. "It's weird but harmless, she just likes looking at pretty boys, and she'll give you afternoon tea afterwards."

Augustine actually manages a surprised laugh at that. "At least I don't have to sleep with her. I mean, do they realise I'm gay? It's going to be hard to be with women in the first place!"

Steven shrugs, smiling wryly. "I'm pretty sure I'm asexual, but they don't really care. You'll have men, women, non-binary people, all sorts." There's a brief pause, the sensation of something unpleasant hanging in the air. "You can take aphrodisiacs, if you need to. It can help. Most of them take them too, and stuff to avoid diseases and pregnancy and stuff. Cyn takes the contraceptives as well."

"Yeah, I guess," he mutters, subdued. "What if I do get someone pregnant?"

Another shrug. "Well... they might let you know. They might not. We might have a few kids running around after a few years, who knows? But they'll probably take the contraceptives."

"All three of us have this guy," Cynthia notes as she guides the conversation back on topic, gesturing to another. "He's a voyeur - I bet you anything he'll want me and Steven to 'break in the new guy'." She smiles crookedly at Augustine's expression, patting him in the shoulder. "It's okay. We'll make sure it's nicer than some of the other creeps."

"It's just... weird." Augustine reaches up to rub at his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "I mean, they gave me a schedule for being fucking molested." He doesn't usually swear, but somehow, it seems appropriate now, and Steven wraps an arm around his shoulders and squeezes gently, Cynthia hugging him from the other side.

"You'll make it. You'll be okay, and we'll be with you," Cynthia says, and her voice is so sincere and gentle that Augustine almost manages to believe her.

The clients he sees - and during the Games, it is mostly private clients, with the parties being for before and after - tend to have the television on and playing while he's over. He supposes there's something perversely logical about it - for the Capitol, sex and death mean entertainment, and he's positive that some of them are actively watching to scope out new prey.

Despite himself, he finds himself watching it as well, usually after the act, when he's too worn down to leave but too restless to sleep, and that's when he notices him.

It's one of the Kalosians, actually - a redheaded boy from Mountain Kalos, from one of the little hamlets near Couriway. From some of the more talkative clients, he learns more about the tribute - he's sixteen, he's serious and driven, he scored a ten. He started with a Litleo but was separated from him early on in the Games, he caught a Magikarp and now has a terrifying-looking Gyarados, he has already killed two other tributes in self-defense and has shown appropriate remorse for them - he is lethal, but he still retains his humanity.

He is descended from royalty, from when Kalos still had a royal family. His name is Lysandre de Lyon, he is likely to be the newest victor of the Games, and he makes something in Augustine's chest tighten painfully.

Augustine is shuffled from client to client - the eccentric older woman who likes seeing attractive boys cleaning her apartment, the hedonistic couple whose scented oils and perfumes make him sneeze, the breathless Capitolite woman who proclaims that now she'll always have something of the thirty-first Games with her, the voyeur who sits back and watches while Steven and Cynthia do their best to distract him from what's happening to them.

And all through it, he watches Lysandre de Lyon as the tributes are thinned out ever more.

Lysandre wins. No one has really expected otherwise. Augustine watches the announcement from the bed of some old, wealthy politician and when he finally leaves, Lysandre's blue eyes still rise in his mind.

"I'm going to warn him," Augustine says to Steven and Cynthia at the party, the legitimate one that follows the interview show, and he strides out to where Lysandre is waving to a few of the shrieking socialites like a king. He swallows hard; Lysandre's profile is regal. "Lysandre de Lyon?"

Lysandre starts, spinning around, and his eyes fix on Augustine's. "Augustine Sycamore, right?" he says, and Augustine can't help but feel there's a hidden accusation in there - where were you when your tributes needed you? "May I help you?"

Augustine glances around, ensuring that they won't be overheard, and reaches out to touch Lysandre's smooth, pale skin. "I have to talk to you," he murmurs, then takes Lysandre's hand and tugs him to the side.

Yanking his hand free, Lysandre glares down at him. "What's the big idea?" he says shortly, a scowl on his face before visibly straightening up, his bearing dignified once more. "I mean - what - what is the meaning of this?"

Lysandre is like him too, pulling on his mask, and he wonders vaguely if his mentors even know what's coming. Wulfric, from what he's seen, was not much of a looker even in his earlier years - and the Capitol was scared of Olympia, weren't they?

Has he any idea?

"There'll be an afterparty after this one," Augustine explains hastily, still on his guard. "They'll make you go, they'll say it'll be a big honour but they'll hurt you if you refuse. And they -" He swallows roughly. "They'll break you. You think you've won now, but it's better to have died in the Arena, then they wouldn't have been able to - to use you, you'll just be a plaything to them -"

A hand drops down on his shoulder. "Ah. Explaining to our new friend how things work here, are you?" a horrifically familiar voice says, and he feels the blood drain from his face.

Lysandre frowns, meeting the vice president's gaze evenly. "What's going on?"

Vice President Harmonia chuckles. "Our young friend has the basic gist of it - there will be a wonderful party later on." There's something predatory about his voice, something between contempt and amusement. "I do hope you can attend."

Augustine yanks himself away from the man's poisonous hand, tries to shield Lysandre bodily. "He's only sixteen, please don't do this!" he begs. Let them hurt him, let them do what they want, but he can't stand by, he can't let them hurt someone else, not if he can do something about it.

The Vice President raises his eyebrow. "And you were only seventeen, and Cynthia fifteen, and Steven fourteen. I fail to see your point, Augustine - you know our friends will not see his age as an obstacle." He smirks. "It may even be quite... enticing." The smile he turns on Lysandre is cold, and Augustine has to ball his hands into fists to stop himself from striking him. "I will see you both at the party. Goodbye for now, my young Victors."

"We're not yours," Augustine whispers as he retreats, then turns to Lysandre with his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Lysandre demands, and Augustine can only shake his head and hope they don't break him too irreparably.

Lysandre is a virgin, and that means that the privilege of spending the first hour of the party with him goes to auction.

There's furious defiance on Lysandre's face as the bidding rages around them, and Augustine sits slumped in his chair, forced to pleasure the man beside him even as he bids on having another victor to ruin. And then something cracks in him and he raises his other hand, joining the bidding frenzy, and he won't even think about the money because he needs to help Lysandre, needs to give him breathing room, space to come to terms with what is to happen to him, and one hour just might do it.

It just might do it.

He wins.

He leads Lysandre into a room at the side, intending to let him rest, grateful for the reprieve he's given himself, too. And he watches and listens as Lysandre learns what is to become of him, as he rages and glares and scowls, and all he can manage to think is, I'm sorry, I tried, I tried everything I could.

He ends up sleeping with Lysandre after all, at Lysandre's request and Lysandre's prompting. Augustine knows that any touch afterwards will forever be tainted. He had one good night with Meyer; he knows that if he can give Lysandre the same chance for sweet, uncomplicated sex, he will, and he touches him as if he's fragile and beautiful and rare.

Augustine kisses him when the deed is done, a simple, soft touch of the lips, almost chaste, a promise that he'll be there and that he will care.

And he picks Lysandre up off the floor at the end of the night, holds him as he weeps in the shower for the life he's lost, every illusion, every barrier shattered, and he swears that if he can make this world right for him, he will do it.

Whatever it takes.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

They go home.

It's a bright day at the end of autumn, a handful of months after the thirty-second Games, that Lysandre comes to visit for the first time. Victors have special privilege to visit the other district centres, Kiloude in Mountain Kalos, Lumiose in Central Kalos, and Coumarine in Coastal Kalos, and Lysandre has seen fit to take advantage to that.

He shows up at Augustine's door with a duffel bag over his shoulder and a small, cautious smile. Drasna visits from across the road and makes them coffee. They catch up. Lysandre has just begun his final year of high school and Augustine has become snowed under with his first year of college, but this is something they can make the time for, a friendship he's willing to develop.

Lysandre has a wicked sense of humour. He enjoys cooking; he makes crepes and galettes and small fluffy pastries, he has a nose for coffee. He loves art, and happily visits the galleries and museums of Lumiose, things he doesn't have access to in Kiloude. He's skilled with Pokemon battles - admittedly, his Gyarados, Espoir, has a distinct advantage over Artemis, but she throws herself into battle as well and soon is an imposing Garchomp herself. When the small pond towards the back of the Victor's Village freezes over, he tries to teach Augustine to ice skate.

(It... doesn't go well.)

There's a melancholy about him, but around Augustine, he begins to smile.

They have started to say goodbye to each other at the end of Lysandre's visits with tentative kisses, and Augustine cannot say he minds at all.

In the spring, he's sent on his Victory Tour. He returns straight to Lumiose without taking the connecting train to Kiloude, and that night, Augustine holds him as his sleep is marred by nightmares.

He knows. He has them too. He sleeps better when Lysandre is by his side.

The summer is warm and content with Lysandre around. But it has to get cooler eventually, and so it does - and with the autumn comes Reaping Day. Alexa is seventeen and has a younger sister she adores, Macon is twelve and has three older brothers, and this time, he has to be a mentor, he can't ignore them like he did last time.

He can't forget Cosette's face, the splatter of blood on her skin.

There are more clients, each one with a different perversion. There are more parties, and he becomes something new and inhuman every time. He is painted gold and embellished with real gemstones, he is painted in iridescent fire colours like a vengeful fire spirit, he is painted up like a doll and given muscle relaxants and posed artfully on chaise lounges while his tormenters manipulate him like a marionette, not one seemingly recognising that their beloved victors are human. The victors share each other's beds and huddle close for comfort, they catch each other's eye at the parties and give silent reassurances that they are there for each other.

The tributes see none of this. The tributes train. The tributes get their Pokemon. Alexa has a Gogoat that seems to think it's still a Skiddo, if its attempts at sitting on her lap is any indication, Macon a truly alarming Spiritomb. The tributes get their scores. Macon scores a six, he is small but quick and intelligent. Alexa scores an eight, she is observant and physically fit. The tributes are interviewed. The crowds love them, they love their heroic children going off to battle to the death.

Macon makes it to the third day, a truly impressive feat for a twelve-year-old.

Alexa's Gogoat carries her to safety as the mountain they're on crumbles, and she is crowned the newest victor.

The media talks about Kalos and its recent success - four victors in the span of five years is truly impressive, apparently, and Augustine, Lysandre, and Olympia, who is becoming a friend as well through Lysandre, are all interviewed as Alexa recovers, and he finds himself impressed and touched by Diantha's gentle approach. They go out for dinner that night; he suspects when he's sent to another party that she knows and sympathises.

As Alexa's mentor, he watches with anxious eyes as she sits through the recap show, as she is interviewed, and when she, Cynthia, and Lysandre are pulled away to the annual afterparty, he can only watch in dismay.

(He and Steven are no longer invited; they are to mingle with others at a different event, sent on to those who apparently have no problem with the lack of consent but draw the line at their victims being underaged.)

Lysandre and Cynthia bring her back. Diantha comes by to say goodbye to them all before they return. Olympia joins them from the Mountain Kalos level above them, and all seven find themselves sleeping huddled up to each other; five survivors of abuse, six victors, seven friends, watched over protectively by Drasna and Wulfric.

Diantha jokingly refers to them as the Great Kalosian Cuddlepile (With Bonus Hoenn And Sinnoh). Augustine mostly thinks of them as his family - although that doesn't stop him from calling them the Cuddlepile in his head.

They go home, and Alexa moves in to the Victor's Village with her parents and her little sister Viola. Augustine shows her the ropes, acclimatises her with the community he's lived in all his life, already begins to mentally prepare himself for the Victory Tour that he'll be accompanying her on in six months time.

And he and Lysandre receive letters from the Capitol.

They're to take Talents - it's a tradition for victors that has gone unused thus far, but now it's time to address them. They're admittedly not too bad - Augustine has been permitted to study Pokemon biology at a prestigious school, one of the best in the world, and Lysandre will be studying cooking at a world class culinary school.

The schools are in the Capitol.

They will be living in the Capitol, within arm's reach of their abusers, unable to escape back to Kalos, unable to find any reprieve, for three years.

Augustine manages to keep a brave face until he and Lysandre board the ship that will carry them to the Capitol, and then they retreat to their cabin and he breaks down again, he and Lysandre, clinging to each other, keeping each other afloat.

It's an interesting dichotomy, his life in the Capitol.

By day, he's a university student, studying biology, chemistry, even a bit of geology and physics. (Steven, who has been brought within the Capitol's grasp as well, joins him in some of the geology classes, and the presense of a friend is a welcome one.) He works with the Pokemon in the school's enclosure, able to see more than he's ever dreamed of seeing in one place before, and thrives in the environment.

Yes, his classmates (mostly Capitolites, and a scattered few wealthy citizens of other regions, including those with better diplomatic ties to the Capitol - better to do as they say, better not to send their children to the death) do tend to recognise him, he and Steven are the only victors actually in the school and they certainly stand out, but the prestigious school is packed with others of various celebrity, and he soon becomes unremarkable - just another student, studying for exams in the library, going out on dates with his boyfriend whenever their schedules align, visiting nice cafes with Diantha, working on assignments with Steven, making mock-disgusted noises about cafeteria food and drinking far, far too much coffee.

He's roomed with Hiroshi Uratane of Kanto, recently freed of the horror of Reaping Day and on a scholarship for his first year of college. Augustine likes him immediately - not least because he insists on being called Hiroshi instead of his official Unovanised name of Harry (which, he confides later, is at least better than the name he had been given as a baby, Hannah). Hiroshi is loud, boistrous, hyperactive, and funny; he becomes superb at making Augustine laugh after a long day or a tiring night.

Because in the grasp of the Capitol, there is his double life of a plaything, a victor, a warm body to use and abuse. They send him to parties, painted like a doll or a mineral or a pure element, something certainly not human. They send him to clients, where he has to make polite small talk after being violated. He sees Lysandre and Steven here, too - their tormenters know that they're all within reach in the Capitol, and it's not unusual for them to decide to have two or three victors for the night.

Hiroshi asks where he goes in the evenings, and asks again, and again, questions becoming increasingly worried, always there when Augustine wakes up screaming from another nightmare. Eventually, he caves - with Lysandre visiting the dorms and half asleep on Augustine's bed, he slowly, falteringly explains what happens to them.

They hurt them, they use and abuse them, and if they do not comply, then it's the lives of their loved ones who are at risk. His parents. His aunt.

Lysandre.

"You love me?" Lysandre asks, and the words are heavy in the air.

"Yeah," he answers, and it's true, it's so true it makes his heart ache, because he needs him, he needs Lysandre to be his rock, to hold him together when he wants to break down, to help protect him and to protect Lysandre in turn, because he's something precious in the world, the one thing he wants to hold on to above all else. "I do."

He needs Lysandre. He needs his company, his warmth. He needs the support of having someone who understands, who can't get rid of his nightmares but who can understand when he wakes up feeling like he's being torn apart, like he will never get the crawling sensation of hands over his skin.

Steven understands. Cynthia understands. Alexa understands. But Lysandre is the one he has lost his heart to.

"You love me?"

"Yeah, I do."

And he knows that he needs to protect Lysandre as much as Lysandre protects him. He knows that he needs to take action, to ensure that they both have a future, to make sure that the anger he sees in Lysandre's clear blue eyes does not turn inwards, because he knows that it stabs like knives.

One day, perhaps they will be free. But that is a long way off, and the next Games are less than a year away - another year of death masquarading as entertainment, another year of wholesale slaughter to make children answer for the sins of their grandparents and great-grandparents.

For now, they will hold each other tight, and they will endure.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen

The summer before the thirty-fourth Games is a golden time. With his time in the Capitol, for now, at an end, he is free to relax.

(He has spent the entire year in the Capitol now, with not even had Alexa's Victory Tour to distract him, Drasna going instead - apparently, the Capitol had thought that the expense of shipping him back to Kalos, sending him on the tour, returning to the Capitol on the tour, going home to Kalos again, then coming back to the Capitol again was a little unreasonable, and grudgingly, he has to agree that they had had a point.)

Lysandre is over nearly all the time, or Augustine is in Kiloude, enjoying the warmth of sunny southern Kalos. He's never really been to the mountain district, and although he and Lysandre largely stay within the confines of Kiloude, they do pay a visit up to Couriway, the nearest large town near the hamlet where Lysandre grew up.

His family has an old manor up there, now in the care of cousins. It looks impressive, but apparently the Victor's Village in Kiloude has a few things the Couriway manor doesn't have... like reliable electricity.

Living all his life in the Central Kalosian centre, Augustine has not quite realised how bad things are for those away from them.

Still, it's a good summer, a bright, warm one. He and Drasna start tutoring Alexa in what will be expected of her as a mentor, although for this year, she will only be observing. It's struck him that now Central Kalos has a full three victors - they will be able to pick and choose who mentors that year, and, perhaps, whoever does not could stay at home.

(But they would still have at least one of them, and he does not want to leave Alexa on her own, or Lysandre, and this is the only way he can see Steven and Cynthia and Diantha, now a permanent citizen of the Capitol... must he really be abused in order to see his friends?)

Summer ends, autumn begins, and Reaping Day comes around once more, and now there are three victors up on stage with their two new tributes, a pair of fifteen-year-olds named Winnie and Florin. They know each other, apparently, both keen skaters frequenting the ramps set up on Versant Road, and Augustine watches them quietly, knowing that they'll soon be facing each other in a battle to the death.

How can this ever be okay?

Augustine has already packed his bags for the year. After the Games, he will be returning straight to university, and he tries not to let his eyes prickle with tears as he watches Coumarine Port retreat into the distance.

He helps mentor his newest tributes. He gives them tips and tricks, advice so that they might survive. He's been good, hasn't he? He's let the Capitol do whatever they want to him, so won't they let his tributes survive?

They reach the Capitol. By now, the remake centre, the opening ceremony, and the training centre are old acquaintances, and he goes through the motions with a smile fixed on his face. The parties and the clients keep coming, and he does not complain, because not once does he sleep alone - curled up to Lysandre, sometimes joined by Steven or Cynthia or Alexa, Olympia joining them after Lysandre has a particularly rough time, Diantha joining them as often as she can.

He has them. At the very least, he has them.

His tributes pick their Pokemon - a Doduo, sure-footed and fast, for Florin, and a Chespin for Winnie. They're good Pokemon, and the kids are decent at fighting - perhaps they'll be able to survive, perhaps they'll make it. They score decently and go on to their interviews, and he watches, nods as Diantha leads them through questions.

But they both look exhausted by the end of it, slumped back against one of the sofas in the district apartments. Winnie lifts her head wearily. "So what happens tomorrow?" she asks.

"You'll be summoned in the morning," he explains, folding his legs. "With your uniform waiting for you. You'll only be able to take that, an approved token, and your Pokemon with you. Drasna and I will accompany you to the hovercrafts, and they'll inject a tracker in your arm and carry you to the Arena. You'll be led to a ready room, and if there's any other parts of your uniform, like boots or jackets, you'll get those there."

He pauses to catch his breath, and Drasna continues on from there. "There'll be an announcement for you to step into the tubes there." Her voice is gentle, reassuring, and he wonders how many times she's done this. "I suggest you do - if you refuse, the Peacekeepers outside will push you in. The platform will rise, and that will take you to the Arena."

"And from there," Florin ventures, "We just have to wait for the countdown to finish and then we try and get stuff and get away?"

Augustine nods. "I would recommend only grabbing equipment if it's safe to do so," he says grimly. "In my year, I almost didn't make it - one of my allies ended up throwing a knife at the tribute who attacked me, and if he hadn't, I would have died there. This is why you need survival skills - there'll be things you need to survive in the Arena in the wild a lot of the time, even if you don't get anything at the Cornucopia."

"What if you just decide to start running as soon as you get there, grab everything you can, and get out before anyone realises what's happening? I mean," Winnie shrugs, "It's not like they can punish us any more, right?"

He grimaces. "If you step off the plates before the countdown finishes, then the mines planted around them will turn you into a fine red paste. So, no, I would not recommend it."

Florin's eyes are very wide. "Mines?"

"So I've heard. I've never actually seen anyone make that mistake, though."

Winnie hesitates, then laughs. "At least it would be quick, though, right?"

He chuckles tiredly. "I guess. It would be quite messy, though."

Alexa shudders.

The kids go off to bed, and eventually, he does too, taking the elevator up to Lysandre's floor, padding silently into his room, and slipping under his arm. There are no parties tonight, no clients - he supposes everyone is too busy waiting for the Games to begin - and he manages to sleep relatively peacefully, Lysandre's steady breath warm against his skin and his arms reassuringly solid around him.

Lysandre is already awake when he finally re-emerges into the land of the living, giving him a bleary smile and a kiss. "How did you sleep?" he whispers as he lays back down.

"About as well as can be expected." Augustine's voice is scratchy; he coughs once to clear his throat (turning his head so as to not cough all over his boyfriend). "What about you?"

Lysandre shrugs once.

They don't have to venture out immediately - there's still time to laze in bed, warm and comfortable and unwilling to leave to wash, dress, and eat. And he almost feels guilty about it - one floor below, his tributes must be terrified, preparing to fight for their lives, while he gets to stay in comfort and luxury, safe and secure.

The Capitol's abuse and being forced to sit there watching children kill each other notwithstanding.

Eventually, wearily, he slips from Lysandre's bed, kisses him goodbye, and heads downstairs to his own floor. After a quick shower and some clean clothes, he's ready to face the day, and he gives his queasy-looking tributes a reassuring smile as he gets them breakfast, allowing them to have anything they want.

After all, he thinks morbidly as Winnie opts to have a breakfast made entirely of chocolate, it's not like they'll be able to enjoy things like food for much longer.

He downs two cups of coffee and a small pastry, and then it's time to leave. Alexa solemnly wishes them luck, calling advice even as they step into the elevator, and the small group leave for the launchpads, the tributes silent.

"Drasna, Augustine?" Winnie finally says, holding out an envelope. "I wrote this, can you - make sure that my parents get it?"

Silently, Augustine accepts it, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. He had done the same in his year, letters to his parents and to Meyer entrusted to Drasna, and while she hadn't had to deliver them... well, not everyone will have the same opportunity. "I'll give it to them," he promises, and she quietly thanks him.

They reach the port. Augustine and Winnie are guided to one gate, Drasna and Florin to another, and he waves Florin goodbye. Winnie's back is very straight as she walks to the hovercraft that will take her to the Arena, and Augustine watches, then turns and heads back.

The Games will be starting soon.

The mentor station in the gaming centre is becoming familiar to him, now. While he barely saw it during his first year, he was glued to his console for the entirety of Alexa's Games, and now he slips in to place, giving Lysandre as a smile as he takes his own spot at the console designated for Mountain Kalos.

"Trackers are online," Drasna murmurs as she slips her headset on. "And the catalogue is up."

It's a fancy-looking console, full of screens to watch their tributes, health monitors tied to the tributes' trackers, and with a large electronic catalogue full of sponsor gifts to send out - so long as someone is willing to pay the right price. Behind the row of consoles is a comfortable lounge and bar, and at the lounge and bar are the sponsors, just waiting for an approach by a mentor.

And then there will be debts to be paid.

There's a chime, and Augustine turns back to the large screens that line the room, glancing at Winnie and Florin's chances on the odds board (now restyled as a leader board), watching the spinning Capitol logo give way to an image of eighteen tributes standing, waiting, at the Cornucopia. The announcer has just proclaimed the start of the thirty-fourth Hunger Games; the countdown has started.

Thirty seconds, and the tributes are looking around, gauging distance between each other, to bags and weapons, to shelter.

Twenty seconds, and some are crouching, ready to sprint into action as soon as they're able to.

Ten seconds, and they seem to hold their breath.

Five seconds, and one of the tributes raises their hand.

Two seconds, and the tribute drops their hand and eight of the eighteen step off the plates.

The Games begin with ten tributes, ten terrified, traumatised teenagers, some covered in the blood of their teammates, some faltering, some falling to others who take advantage of their shock and disorientation, and by the time they are one minute into the thirty-fourth Games, only six remain.

Six!

Feeling like his limbs are made of lead, Augustine rises to his feet, stumbling into Lysandre's arms. All four of their tributes together are amongst the fallen, along with one of the Coastal Kalosians, the other terrified and running, running covered in the blood of what may have been friends in a better world. There are two Unovans still alive (one Eastern, one Western), one of the tributes from Hoenn, both of the Kantonese tributes.

But Johto, Sinnoh. Central and Mountain Kalos. All of them are out of the running within the span of a minute.

"A suicide pact," Lysandre whispers into his hair, a tremor in his voice. "I had no idea..."

Augustine can only shake his head. "Last night," he falteringly recalls, "Winnie said - I warned them about the mines, and she said... 'At least it would be quick'. I can understand why..."

Why they chose to blow themselves up in a show of defiance, why they chose to choose the manner of their own deaths instead of being forced to fight. He can understand why, and he can't find it within himself to condemn them.

(He will later find out that they all left their Pokemon in the ready rooms. They had been dedicated.)

They are the shortest Games on record. With just six tributes, the field is narrowed quickly and brutally, and by the time Marlon, a fifteen-year-old from Eastern Unova, manages to drown the girl from Kanto and claim victory, just ten hours have passed.

(From the Eastern Unova station, Lenora utters a heartfelt, "Oh, thank Arceus"; Koga rests his head in his hands and murmurs something to himself, perhaps an apology, perhaps gratitude that the bloodbath is over.)

The Hunger Games are over for another year, and now Marlon will be feted, and interviewed, and sent back to his home town as a victor, and now Augustine and Lysandre will go back to their respective schools and return to the cycle of everyday lives marred by the taint of Capitol decadance, because no one is ever really free of the Hunger Games, not really.

Augustine clings to Lysandre, listens to the reactions of his fellow mentors, watches the sponsors react with rage and disgust and pleasure, and decides that this must never happen again.

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen

Marlon has no family, lives on his own in Eastern Unova's Humilau City, and is not harmed by the Capitol. He will go home untainted (save for the memory of the lives he took to win the Games), and Augustine is both envious of him and pleased for him. There will not be another victim of the Capitol - he is untouched.

Augustine is shuffled off to another party, the last night of the Games proper and with the interview done and dusted. Tomorrow, the mentors and other victors will return home, and he, Lysandre, and Steven will return to school - he and Steven have university, Lysandre has culinary school, and the year will repeat itself with dreary predictability.

"Want to go up to the roof after a shower?" Steven suggests as they return to the apartments, "It's a nice night."

"Yeah," Augustine agrees wholeheartedly. He feels claustrophobic, still feeling hands and bodies pressing him down, taking what they want. The night air will do him good, and he showers quickly, dresses in his own clothes, and takes the elevator up, stopping only at the Mountain Kalos floor, where Olympia joins him with a vague-looking smile.

Many of the other victors are already there - Steven has already arrived and is leaning back against the wall, Lysandre close by with just enough space between the two for Augustine to squish himself in between them. Alexa is stretched out on her back, hands pillowed on her hands; Cynthia is also lying down, albeit with her head in Diantha's lap (he gives the two a surprised but pleased smile from his position practically in Lysandre's), Drasna is leaning against the railing, gazing out at the brightly-lit night, and there are others, too, others he is not as familiar with - Wulfric, one of Lysandre's own mentors, Byron, from Sinnoh, Norman and Glacia, from Hoenn, Karen, from Johto, Koga, from Kanto, Clay, from one of the Unovas (he can't remember which).

It's not unusual for he and his friends to gather together, including on the roof. But the others have never really come to one of these little get-togethers, and when Drasna turns away from the view, he gives her a puzzled look.

She only smiles in return.

"I thought it would be a good idea for us to spend some time together," says Wulfric clearly, the most senior of all the victors (the winner of the first Games having died of what the Capitol euphamistically called 'illness' and what the other victors called 'deliberate substance abuse'). "Since those Games were a shocker - how is everyone holding up?"

"Has that ever happened before?" Alexa asks tentatively. "With the - the tributes stepping off the plates early."

Drasna shakes her head, settling crosslegged on the ground next to her, near Augustine, Lysandre, and Steven. "There has been - generally just one tribute at a time. One was in my Games. But this... mass, co-ordinated show of rebellion is unprecedented."

Steven smiles sadly. "I guess it's one way of rebellion, huh?" A well-groomed eyebrow rises, very slightly. "It's just a sort of... fatal one."

"Is there any other kind?" says Karen, the victor from Johto, sardonically.

And Steven leans in close, and whispers in Augustine's ear, "Yes. There is."

They've started a rebellion.

It's a relatively new and ineffectual one, Drasna and Steven explain through hints and doublespeak. There's not that much they can do - they lack resources, they lack people, they lack information.

But there are a good number of victors who have vowed to stop the Capitol - they, who the Capitol has wronged more than any other that's still alive; they, who have the influence to perhaps change people's hearts.

Diantha, their young media star, is a member of the rebellion. Rowan, an older Sinnohan man who cares for the Pokemon used by the tributes, is a member of the rebellion. Rood, a Capitolite who works for the Gamemakers, is a member of the rebellion.

Slowly, things are coming together.

The other victors depart for their homes, scattered over the globe again. Drasna hugs him tightly in a farewell, Alexa wishes him a sincere good luck (and Augustine honestly can't help but think that she's privately grateful that to not be one of the ones having to live within the Capitol itself). The victors from Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh speed away by train, where they will be taken to the continent's west coast before sailing on to Nihon; the Kalosians depart from Castelia Port by ship.

He, Lysandre, and Steven are left alone in the Capitol. They have Hiroshi, they have Diantha, but there is only so much they can do. Their knowledge of the world has expanded, but they are still directionless.

Directionless, and potentially with the knowledge of their activities already held by the Capitol. Drasna had been somber when she had explained and apologised, that Augustine had most likely been deliberately reaped to punish her indiscretions.

But he's alive. He's alive and furious, burning with determination. Augustine will not let the chance go to waste; he will do what he can to ensure that no more are hurt, that no more are abused, that no more are killed.

But what can he do? Their numbers are few, their resources minimal. In the stories, the rebellion is a rag-tag bunch of optimists who nonetheless have the firepower to go toe to toe with the empire, dictatorship, or evil regime, seemingly winning with sheer pluck and nerve.

The days where Kalos, Nihon, and the sympathisers within Unova itself could go to war with Unova are long gone. The war has been over for over thirty years - those who remember a time before Unova's declaration of itself as the Capitol are older now, and the younger citizens have been raised on a diet of strictly rationed food and Capitol propaganda.

In Kalos, people are starving. In the Capitol, they gorge themselves on food and entertainment, on their bread and circuses, and give no thought to the outlying regions, where Peacekeepers patrol the streets.

Augustine uses what advantage he has, and the advantage he has lies in the beds of the Capitol's favoured upper class, the friends of the government.

He's been with this man before - a politician, one whose tongue loosens after sex, especially after a few drinks. So when Augustine slips from the sheets and bends over to fix the man a drink, well aware of the gaze running down the length of his body, he plays it up - he flirts, he smiles, he acts the part, taking a (rather fortifying) sip of his own drink and reclining back against the cushions.

The politician's job must be tiring, he murmurs, sidling closer, skin against skin. Why not unburden himself on someone who will listen?

He leaves with a head full of information and the twin feelings that he's done something good, he's gained some power back from the interaction and shaped it into his own, gained something more valuable than the money or gifts that his other sponsors give him, and the thought that, really, this honestly is prostitution. He has offered sex and been offered payment in return, payment in the information he now has.

Returning to his dorm, Hiroshi offers him a sympathetic smile, a pun so bad it distracts him successfully into laughter, and a shoulder to lean on, if he needs it. Instead, they go for a walk in the night air, and he asks Hiroshi if he would fight back, if he could.

Hiroshi says yes, and he is drawn in as well.

The next big news is one he doesn't need to have whispered to him while he lies in someone else's bed. Everyone in the relevant world notices when the President dies in office.

Illness, they say. Illness. The man was old; he was sick. It was from natural causes, perfectly understandable, and his vice president is a perfectly capable replacement who will no doubt lead the Capitol to further heights.

Augustine realises that Ghetsis Harmonia is now the President of the Unovan Union, and his mouth grows dry. Lysandre stays over that night, and his nightmares are full of the man leering and grasping and hurling Augustine into the fire. He knows that Vice President Harmonia is one of those personally responsible for the torment the victors undergo - perhaps there is some truth to the rumour that the former President was slowly growing senile, and perhaps he didn't even know of the atrocities committed against teenagers in his name, for Vice President Harmonia has always been one of his personal nightmares and now his power is even greater.

There are still murmurs in his ear while he lies amidst the sheets. Apparently, he is not the only one to be skeptical of the suggestion of 'natural causes'.

President Ghetsis Harmonia may well be a murderer as well as someone who forces children into prostitution and sexual slavery. Certainly, he does not shy from exploiting the Hunger Games, and Augustine resists the urge to glare at his image on the television, the man's six-year-old son watching silently from behind him.

Perhaps he poisoned the old President, one of his clients suggests. In the aftermath of a drug-fueled party, another of his sponsors suggests that maybe he simply stabbed the old man in a fit of anger, then arranged to have his own private physician hide the evidence. One particularly drunk client, an old society darling, hints that maybe the Vice President was in some sort of sexual thrall to his superior, and Harmonia simply tired of his position.

(Augustine cannot help but wonder if that client meant to imply that, given the chance, he would go on a killing spree of his own sponsors, tiring of his position as the Capitol's plaything. He also can't say that the thought has never crossed his mind, particularly with some of the more... sadistic people he sees, those who delight in leaving his limbs and back crisscrossed with red. Never his face, never his throat, never his hands and forearms. A victor must be marketable, always.)

He gathers these pieces of information, stores them away, ensures that they reach the other members of the rebellion. Perhaps it's just gossip, harmless and idle, but perhaps there is some truth in it - and even if there isn't, he can't deny that it's sometimes entertaining seeing just what strange ideas lie behind polished facades.

And the year progresses.

In early spring, his father dies from illness - genuine illness, Drasna informs him, one that she, Augustine's mother, Alexa, and her family contracted as well, managing to fight it off. His father was not so lucky - he had had too many hard winters, and Augustine is given leave to sail back to Kalos for the funeral, promising Lysandre that he'll return soon, needing to be with his mother and aunt.

Quietly, though, he is grateful that his father is now out of the Capitol's grasp.

The funeral is simple and elegant.

(In another world, where he did not kill Volkner, he would be the one being buried, it would be his grave that they leave a stone on.)

He stumbles through the kaddish, stands with his mother and aunt during the burial (taking the time to visit Sophie, to set a stone on her grave too), and he prepares to return to Unova, to the Capitol, to his torment.

There is work to do.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen

The years become punctuated with the Games.

For the thirty-fifth Games, Johto claims its first victory since the twenty-second, when sixteen-year-old Eusine tricks his way into victory. Lysandre and Alexa look after him during the party; he is invited to join the fledgeling rebellion.

(Augustine, Lysandre, and Steven set out for their final year of school in the Capitol. Just one year away lies freedom, freedom to go back to Kalos and Hoenn. They just need to endure it.)

The thirty-sixth and thirty-seventh years are won by cousins. Clair being reaped for Johto for the thirty-seventh Games was meant to punish her cousin Lance, the most recent Kantonese victor, who tended to show little patience for the Capitol. He becomes subdued when she is reaped, she is just fifteen and he can only watch in fear; his bravado returns when she survives.

(Augustine graduates after the thirty-sixth Games, and is immediately 'invited' to complete a graduate program. Lysandre fails a critical exam, and must repeat his last year. Steven manages to escape, parting with apologies and hugs. Augustine and Lysandre flee back to Kalos at the end of the thirty-seventh Games and do not look back. They still will be called to the Capitol whenever they are wanted, but for now, they're relatively free. They return home, they find friends again. Augustine runs into Meyer by chance, and learns that he has recently married and now has a newborn daughter. He is genuinely happy for Meyer, and Meyer is equally happy for him finding Lysandre. Augustine beams at little Clemantine and hopes that she will never, ever be reaped.)

For the second year in a row, Johto wins again. Perhaps a haunted forest is a little too easy a target for a medium; Morty has eighteen years of experience of working with ghosts and soars to an easy victory. No one is particularly surprised when he starts sleeping with his mentor, Eusine; a medium and a magician seem to be a natural choice.

(In Kalos, Lysandre's parents die. The official report says that an electrical fault has caused the fire, but Augustine knows that Lysandre losing his temper at a client most likely has something to do with it. He quietly supports him as much as he can, invites him to stay in Lumiose City with him when they return from their current summons.)

In the thirty-ninth year, the rebellion is punished. Roark, Byron's son, is only twelve years old when he is reaped. He does not survive. The eventual winner, Skyla, promises to help fight for Roark's life and the lives of all the children lost in the Arena. She returns to her home in Western Unova, starts studying for a pilot's license as her talent, and vows to help the rebellion in any way possible.

(Diantha and Cynthia break up. It's relatively amicable, at least, but Augustine suddenly has two friends with a past history together and finds he must spend time with them in the Capitol carefully. It's actually surprisingly, refreshingly normal. Eventually, he manages to get them talking to each other; when Cynthia gives Diantha her blessing to start a new relationship with a fellow media star, Malva, he is sure things are back to normal.)

The first victor from Coastal Kalos emerges from the fortieth Games. Grant is strong, fit, and confident, scoring a healthy ten points, and is by far the most popular tribute of the year. In lieu of Coastal Kalos having their own mentor (up to this point, the Coastal kids have been attended to by former Pokemon trainers and the occasional athlete), Augustine, Lysandre, Alexa, and Olympia help teach him all he needs to know about mentoring for the future.

(They also teach him to survive. In Grant's first year back in Kalos after his Games, he is a frequent visitor to Lumiose; the Victor's Village in Coumarine is very empty and very lonely.)

It looks like the thirty-ninth Games will repeat themselves when Koga's daughter, Janine, is reaped for Kalos. But Janine is seventeen, not twelve; she has been trained since toddlerhood for this. She was two years old when her eighteen-year-old father became a victor; she has known no life since. She survives. She survives, and Koga celebrates, and the other victors quietly support Byron as he watches what he did not have.

(Illness sweeps through Central and Mountain Kalos again that winter. Augustine's mother, weak from her illness several years earlier, does not make it. After the funeral, he abandons his own house in the Victor's Village and moves back in to Drasna's, to the house where he grew up; the house he had been given is too big and too empty for him now.

...He still makes use of it when Lysandre visits, though.)

In the forty-second Games, Coastal Kalos is again victorious. Valerie may be an adult at eighteen, but she's fragile and doll-like, and Augustine recognises that Grant has fallen hard and prepares himself for the other mentor's heart to break. No one really expects that fragility to hide surprising physical and mental strength, though, and an instinct for Fairy-type Pokemon that goes beyond simple knowledge. She survives, and she becomes a part of the Kalos family.

(Everyone is pairing up, it seems. Skyla is going out with Elesa, a model from the Capitol with some major rebellion sympathies. Morty and Eusine get engaged. Diantha has broken up with Malva and got back with Cynthia. And Grant is involved with Siebold, a Kalosian who works in the Capitol as a chef of some reknown, and Augustine suspects that there will be some tension there given Valerie's survival. But when she flings herself into Grant's arms when she wakes up in the hospital, Siebold simply shrugs - he knows that his and Grant's relationship is strong, and, well, he's happy to share. Grant and Valerie are more than happy with the arrangement; Augustine sees all three of them more than once cuddled up in a happy pile of affection and support.)

Steven's title as the youngest victor in Game history is lost during the forty-third Games; Liza is a tiny thirteen-year-old Hoennite who publicly vows to see her twin brother again, and apparently has the psychic abilities to back up that claim, winning the Games and also a fair amount of hearts. Olympia takes a keen interest in the little girl, and this is what saves her - the Capitol is not willing to tangle with two psychics, and she returns home to Hoenn with her innocence preserved.

(Valerie confesses to Augustine, Alexa, and Drasna, during a visit to Lumiose, that she would love to have a daughter like Liza one day. But she won't, she won't and Grant and Siebold are in complete agreement - they will not bring a child into this world while the Games continue. Silently, Augustine adds 'preventing people from starting families' to the Capitol's list of crimes. Meyer now has a daughter - as far as they know - named Bonnie; Clemont is now a healthy and happy six-year-old boy. The families they do have must be protected, too.)

In the forty-fourth Games, it's another Unovan, seventeen-year-old Roxie, who takes the crown. Apparently, she has a sizeable following in her home town due to the punk band she fronts, and Roxie's many fans create a new craze for punk rock. She goes home to a roaring crowd, and only the other victors take note of her shadowed eyes.

(Augustine has recently turned thirty, and he is almost glad for it. There is somewhat of a drop-off in the number of clients he has to take and parties he has to attend; there are still plenty, yes, but the advice his friends gave him is true, they really do prefer youth.)

In the forty-fifth Games, the President's sixteen-year-old son is reaped.

This is astonishing for two reasons - the first is that no one was even aware that he was eligable (and yet, and yet, he's a registered citizen of Eastern Unova, and not of the Capitol), and the second is that the boy only goes by the single letter N as a name. N stands on the stage in the district centre of Black City, rocking back and forth on his heels, Lenora and Marlon watching in silent consternation.

The President is asked for a statement; he merely says that even residents of the Capitol must play by the rules.

N repeats his words - he will play by the rules, he will take his chances. There will not be any special privileges for him; he will be just the same as any other tribute.

He chooses a Zorua, he scores a seven, he repeats speeches during the interviews, and he goes into the Arena to fight for his life. He certainly doesn't get any special privileges - he faces the same dangers as the others, if not more.

He can speak to Pokemon, and with their help, he survives.

Somehow, President Harmonia does not look that pleased.

N recovers from the Arena; he watches the recap show, flinching every time a mutt looms into view or each time a Pokemon is killed. He's interviewed, and as they watch N's awkward image on the screen, Augustine nudges Lysandre and murmurs that he's fairly sure being the president's son has done him no favours at all.

He's leaning heavily on Roxie when he joins the other victors and their friends and lovers on the roof, pale and shaking. Something turns in Augustine's stomach; Lysandre squeezes his hand tightly enough to bruise.

Being the president's son has not done him any favours, not at all.

The wind is blowing, and when N plainly says, "I want to join the rebellion," his words are almost whisked away. "I've supported it since I was nine. That's why Father had me reaped. But I survived, which he didn't plan for, so now I want to do something."

Wulfric sets a big hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's not safe to talk about it that openly," he says softly, "But if that's what you want, then we can help you."

His expression blazing with righteous fury, he says, "It is."

They are badly in need of relaxation. N, happily, knows all of the best places, and he's able to lead them to the places undersground, little stations connected to the main lines that need passes to access. One train station is unmarked, a single empty platform containing a single door. And that door leads to a pool.

"I come here to swim a lot," N says, his voice echoing in the tiled chamber. "It's a nice temperature." Stripping off (Augustine winces at the fresh bruises on his pale skin), he steps into the water, pale fluff of mint-green hair floating around him, and then he turns and gives the other victors a rare smile.

There's a soft ripple of laughter, and Grant is the next to shed his clothing, doing a dive bomb into the deep end. "Come on in!" he laughs, waving at his lovers, and Siebold strips down to his underwear and joins him without hesitation, Valerie giggling as she undresses and joins them too.

In various degrees of undress, a good percentage of the victors of the Hunger Games and their assorted friends and companions and lovers join them in the pool.

Settled in the shallows with Lysandre, Diantha, and Steven (not being the most confident swimmer, although he has since learned to at least tread water and paddle), dressed in just his underwear, Augustine finds himself actually smiling. Lysandre's eyes are closed, his head back and mane of red hair soaked, and Diantha is playing with the water, dipping her fingers in and making ripples.

Steven looks thoughtful, gaze on one of their friends (Wallace, a stylist for the Hoenn tributes, who is happily doing strokes across the length of the pool), and Augustine makes eye contact and smiles. "You quite like Wallace, don't you?" he says, mischief in his voice.

"Mm," Steven murmurs, then shrugs a little. "It's sort of complicated, I think? I don't want to have sex with them. I don't think I'm in love with them. But they're important to me in a way that I think is something other than friendship." With a sigh, the Hoennite sits back. "When I look at you, I see a good friend, one I care for greatly. When I look at Wallace, I see someone I want to spend my life with, someone who knows me better than myself - just not in a kissing way or a sex way."

Steven's grin is faint, and Augustine smiles back reassuringly. "I feel like that about Lysandre - only definitely with the kissing and sex way," he adds teasingly, and Lysandre chuckles from beside him, giving his shoulders a quick squeeze. "So basically, you see them as your platonic soul mate or something like that?"

"Platonic soul mate," Steven muses, then nods. "Mm, I think so."

"I think you should tell them that, then," Augustine concludes.

Steven gazes at Wallace for a moment, then nods, and swims out confidently to meet Wallace.

Diantha covers a laugh with her hand. "I'll give you two some space," she teases, "So you can talk." And off she swims as well, leaving Augustine fairly mystified.

Mystified and slightly off-balanced, and he lets out a squeak as Lysandre lifts him bodily, settling him on his lap and pressing a kiss against his lips. "Does that mean I'm your non-platonic soul mate?" he asks softly, barely breaking the distance.

Augustine pauses as he realises what he's said, then a smile drifts across his face. "Yes, I do," he says quietly, and makes himself comfortable in Lysandre's lap, eyes closed, feeling, for once, safe and secure.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen

Manon is only twelve years old, and Augustine gives her a sort of despairing smile when they meet in Gare de Lumiose.

She looks tiny, dwarfed by Lysandre on one side and her district partner on the other, and he casts a glance back at his own tributes. Emma is petite, looking much younger than her fifteen years, but spending the last few years on the streets has given her survival skills beyond most of his other tributes. Alain is eighteen, and while also not the tallest of boys, he has a look in his eye that promises blazing determination.

His own tributes should be alright. Manon, however...

She's very much bubbly, and while Emma gazes blankly out the window as they race beneath the Badlands to Coumarine, Manon chatters happily with Lysandre and Olympia, with Augustine and Alexa, with Drasna and Wulfric (not working as mentors this year, but still coming along for the trip), and even manages to get a smile out of serious-looking Alain. She's enthusiastic and bright and sweet, and Augustine suspects there's either some serious denial or else genuine naivete of what the Games will bring going on.

She's a child. They all are.

By the time they reach Unova and the Capitol, Manon has firmly befriended everyone on the ship, especially the usually stoic Alain. Even Lysandre manages to crack a smile around her as she cheerfully chatters about the Pokemon she wants to befriend, about seeing the sights in the Capitol. Augustine honestly can't tell if she realises that she's going to be fighting to the death or is just maintaining her optimism by sheer force of will.

Alain takes her under his wing (despite the minor technicality of her being a rival from a different district) and begins to tutor her in hand-to-hand fighting, grimly telling her that she needs to get stronger before they reach the Capitol. Augustine is grateful for him - he realises the gravity of the situation and has taken action to try and get her to realise it too - and in another world, he suspects that he and Alain could have been friends.

As it is, he is his mentor, and Emma's too (and, honestly, the Mountain Kalos' tributes as well, the jokes in the Capitol that Central and Mountain might as well be one big district is closer to the truth than they suspect), and he gives them all the information he can between their required training sessions and the rather more unpleasant sessions that he and Lysandre are still shuffled off to. He is endlessly grateful for Lysandre's love and support, for the support of his friends, and he keeps the smile plastered to his face and only lets it drop when they're safe in bed.

The night after the scores are given out (a nine for Alain, an eight for Emma; Manon has his old score of five), after the tributes have had their dinner and Augustine has returned from another party, Alain and Emma corner him on the roof of the training centre. Emma has her new Espurr at her feet (Olympia was particularly pleased with her choice, and had introduced her to her own Meowstic), Alain's Charmander is having a bit of an explore, and both his tributes are grim-faced. It's nearing midnight, and while the city is alive, he's feeling drained, sore, utterly weary.

"Augustine, we gotta talk," Emma says, her arms folded, Alain silently backing her up.

"Of course," he answers, forcing an easy, pleasant smile to his lips. "Did you want any advice on anything particular?"

Alain glances at Emma, who nods minutely, and he sighs. "What happens to victors?" he finally asks. "Emma noticed - I'm not good at noticing things, but she's really observant, and she noticed something. You, and the other mentors... something happens to you, doesn't it?"

His face falls. "What makes you think that?" he asks cautiously, glancing between the two. "I'm fine."

There's a brief scowl on Emma's face. "You know, I'm not dumb! I've seen all sorts of people get in trouble in Lumiose, yeah? And the way you act around people - they mess you up in some way, don't they? Like, a bunch of the victors are like that. I think they do something really bad to you, and we wanna know what we're up against."

"I'm sorry. I didn't think you were dumb." Augustine's voice is quiet, his gaze downcast; in fifteen years, he's had so few people notice that it's now a bit of a shock to have this confrontation with one of his teenage tributes. "I'm just not used to talking about it."

Emma and Alain swap another glance. "What do they do to you?"

"I'd rather not say," he says with a wince. "Not because I don't think you can handle it, but because it's dangerous. They..." They're on the roof and the wind is blowing, and finally, he sighs. "They abuse us, they turn us into their - bedwarmers and playthings. They threaten your family and your loved ones if you refuse them. The only way victors tend to avoid it is if they don't have any loved ones at all - or," he adds thoughtfully, "If you're psychic. They don't tend to be fond of psychics. Olympia knows what's happening, but they've never come for her, and Liza has been safe so far."

"Well, neither of us are psychic," Alain says dubiously. If he's horrified, if he's disgusted, he's hiding it well.

Emma shrugs, and Augustine suspects she's seen enough on the streets that she is genuinely unphased. "I don't have any loved ones or family or nothin'. If I win, I'd be okay, right?"

He frowns thoughtfully. "I think you would be, yes," he says slowly. "There's no one that they could threaten to force you to comply."

"Then Emma's a safe victor," Alain says immediately. "I don't have much family, but..." He shakes his head, eyes glimmering with fury and determination. "I don't want to be a victor. Not if it's like this."

Emma remains silent, staring down at her Espurr, biting her lip.

They finally head off to bed, and Augustine remains on the roof, gazing out at the night sky. Alain has plans, he can tell, and although he lacked the initial perceptiveness to see that something bad was happening, he's certainly made his mind up now.

And what the consequences of that will be, he does not know.

The tributes are interviewed. Diantha is gentle, encouraging, and warm, and although some of the kids seem a little starstruck, they get through them perfectly well. Emma talks about how, if she wins, she intends to raise awareness about the homelessness problem in Lumiose City; Alain vows to become the strongest to protect his loved ones.

Manon talks about her hobbies, how great it is to have a Chespin (she has named him Hari-san, apparently a fan of Nihonic names), and about her rambling home in the hills near Dendemille, filled with brothers and sisters of all ages, and Augustine wonders how far Alain will go to ensure that his loved ones are protected.

They team up immediately, the three of them - two tributes from Central Kalos and a twelve-year-old hanger-on from Dendemille. (Her district partner, more independently-minded, has opted not to ally himself with anyone.) Together, they escape the Cornucopia, Emma securing herself nearby until the fighting has ended and them stealing as many packs as she can while the victorious group is distracted.

They support each other, they are well-equipped, and they have resources and skills. Manon's optimism helps them get through some bad nights, and Augustine and Lysandre watch them with grim faces.

What will Alain do? How will he protect them?

The Arena, this year, is a vast urban setting, a mock-city filled with traps and treats alike. For Emma, familiar with being on the streets, it's a natural environment that she knows just as well as others may know a forest, and she is able to find them food and shelter.

It's fortunate - sometimes, a natural winner will emerge just through the varied Arenas that they use. Someone who grows up near the woods may find themselves in one, a keen swimmer may find themselves near the ocean. Steven, familiar with rocks and metals, had fought through a scavanger's paradise, N seemed to be able to navigate the warped playroom with ease, and he never has been entirely sure why, exactly, Clair was able to handle dragons with such ease, but perhaps her family is familiar with them.

Whatever the reason, he is glad that Emma has the history and background she has, able to lead her allies to safety. He is not sure they would survive otherwise.

On the ninth day, Alain is alone, scavanging for food, when he finds the barrel. The contents are clear, almost odourless, and Augustine knows the Gamemakers have intended for it to be a trap - for someone to believe it's water and to gulp it down.

Alain sniffs at it, frowns, and then fills a flask with it, wiping any droplets off the side carefully and tucking it away. He turns and leaves, hurrying back to their makeshift camp, and Augustine bites down on his lip.

He has poison, now.

On the tenth day, the numbers drop to five. The remainder are still in allied groups - along with the Kalosians, the tributes from Hoenn have teamed up with each other and have survived admirably, aided by sponsor gifts sent flying in from Norman and Liza, this year's mentors.

Alain, Emma, and Manon have received a fair few sponsor gifts themselves, and Augustine has silently started accumulating debts again, doing what is necessary to keep his tributes alive.

Emma leaves the camp to find food. Manon is napping, guarded by Alain and his now-Charizard (a rather quick set of evolutions, although he certainly is a capable fighter). Turning to the Charizard, Alain rests one hand on his snout, then silently rises to his feet and creeps away.

He manages to slit the throat of one of the Hoennites before they even realise he's there. For the other, she gets a good stab in; he wraps his dark jacket around the stomach wound and ends her life, and Hoenn's run in the forty-sixth Games end with the sound of twin cannons.

The other mentors cluster around the consoles for Central and Mountain Kalos, watching silently, waiting to see what they will do. Augustine can hear sponsors betting on whether Alain will kill Manon or Emma first.

Manon stirs, glancing around sleepily. Charizard is here, seemingly calm, and she is reassured when Alain re-emerges back into sight, giving her a gentle smile.

"Hey. Sorry, I heard the cannons - I went to see what happened."

"It wasn't Emma, was it?" Manon frowns anxiously.

He shakes his head and shrugs at the same time. "I don't know - I couldn't find what happened." Kneeling down, he hides a wince, fingers stained red as he presses them against his wound but the dark fabric hiding the worst of it. "Here - the soup should be ready now."

It's piping hot, and Manon winces, poking out her tongue and fanning it. "Ow! What are you trying to do, scorch me to death?" she teases, and Alain actually laughs.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll put some water in it, it should make it cooler and less, uh, gluggy."

(No one ever said that sponsor rations were good-quality ones.)

Augustine's heart sinks as he pours the poison into both of their bowls. Manon eats with gusto; Alain more slowly, and the health monitor at the Central and Mountain Kalos consoles start blinking in alarm, noting a rise in temperature, a drop in respiratory and cardiac activity, Alain's injury not helping at all.

"Alain?" Manon says, and her voice trembles. "I don't feel good."

"Mn... hot food always makes me tired," Alain says softly. "I'm going to nap. Charizard, will you stand watch?"

Charizard dips his head.

Perhaps she knows. When Alain lies down, Manon huddles up to him, stubbornly tucking her head under his chin, her small face sad. Alain's arm comes up automatically to shield her, to protect her from the Capitol, if not himself.

The only thing he's grateful for is that they are both unconscious when the cannons fire. The announcer proclaims that Emma is the winner of the forty-sixth Hunger Games. She looks up at the sky then bows her head, and in the game room, Augustine does too.

And, silently, he says goodbye, and good luck, and sorry.

Emma will be fine. She will return to Lumiose City and live in a fine house in the Victor's Village. She will not be touched by the Capitol. She will use her money and influence to help others who had once been in her shoes.

And Alain and Manon will not become playthings of the Capitol, thanks to the choice Alain made, a choice that stripped all agency from those he inflicted it upon, but a choice made out of compassion and a desire not to see further harm.

But to live in such a world, where a choice like that has to be made in the first place...!

When the Games wrap up for the year, Augustine approaches the other rebels and tells them that nothing must ever happen like that, not ever again. The Quarter Quell, when all bets are off, are only a few years away - they have people, they have resources, and now they have a goal in mind for when they will strike.

They are going to take down the Capitol.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen

Augustine smiles warmly out at the crowd at Lumiose Square, his hands resting on the shoulders of his newest tributes, and allows himself to be quietly, selfishly relieved that Clemont's name is not the one called for the girls.

His tributes for the Quarter Quell, for the fiftieth Games, are both seventeen. Serena, dark-haired and dark-eyed, looks fiercely intelligent and determined, a certain je nais se quois about her. Calem, pale and lanky and sharing his dark hair and grey eyes, keeps his back straight and his face expressionless, and Augustine finds himself sharply reminded of himself on his own Reaping Day, the stoic expression on his face hiding terror beneath it. They both look tall and strong and capable, and, more importantly, neither are the child of anyone he knows.

They both may well survive this year. Perhaps... perhaps they all will.

They say goodbye to their parents, and Augustine silently wills it to not be a final goodbye. Serena only has her mother to say a farewell to, Calem has, curiously, parents he doesn't actually resemble (adopted, perhaps). They have a few friends to part from, Serena has one of her teachers.

They'll make it home. He's determined that they'll make it home.

In the privacy of the car that will take them to Gare de Lumiose, the masks crumble a bit. Calem slumps against the seat, paling even further, and Serena lets out a sigh that's almost a sob, rubbing one of her eyes. "So... Augustine and Drasna, huh?" she says with a forced smile, "It's nice to meet you. You too, Alexa."

He smiles back automatically, wanting to reassure them, wanting to make promises. "It's good to meet you too. I just want to promise you, Drasna and I will be doing everything we can to make sure you survive, okay? Whatever it takes."

Calem nods shortly. "Thanks. But only one of us can come home, right?" he says softly.

Not this year.

"That's what the rules say," are his only words, and he falls silent again, letting Drasna handle the explanation of what the next few days will come - the trip to Coumarine, the voyage across the ocean, the training that lies ahead. A typical Games, no announcement made for the Quarter Quell, seemingly as average as the last year.

Not this year.

They reach the station, and Augustine straightens up, the smile on his face not entirely forced. It's been a good month since he's seen Lysandre, their schedules not exactly kind to either of them, and as Drasna helps usher the kids out and guides them past the photographers into the station, he follows eagerly.

"Lysandre!" he calls, the name bursting out joyfully, and he pulls him into a hug (and a kiss) that makes a few of the watching photographers giggle.

They finally part, Augustine still holding Lysandre's hand as he's introduced to the Mountain Kalos tributes. Shauna and Trevor are both younger and smaller than his own, and he wonders how they'll fare in the Arena, if they'll be claimed by its traps or by other tributes.

Not this year.

The train ride is comfortable, lights flickering on as they plunge into the tunnel, Augustine warm against Lysandre's body with his arm over his shoulders. The Mountain girl, Shauna, gets up to leave; the other three tributes sit around in various degrees of awkwardness.

"What do you think?" Lysandre murmurs. Augustine doesn't answer back verbally straight away, just rests against him and watches the trio talking, shrugging once.

"They have a chance," he says quietly. "Not much of one. But a chance."

But even a little chance is better than none.

The kids talk about their backgrounds, their families - Serena lives with her mother in tiny Vaniville Town, Trevor has his parents and older sister. Trevor, apparently, almost would have been one of Augustine's tributes instead, born in Lumiose City and only moving to Mountain Kalos when he was young; Calem can actually do one better and says that he wouldn't have been in the Games at all if his mother was still alive.

(A Capitol woman - she had died when Calem was five, and as his father was apparently Central Kalosian, it was to Central Kalos that he was sent to. The Capitol woman had not disclosed who her former lover had been; he was instead adopted and lovingly raised by the couple Augustine had seen earlier. He had not wanted for much, although Calem did admit it would have been nice to have met his biological father before he was sent to his death. Still, what could one do?)

If Calem survives, perhaps he will be able to find his father after all.

He's almost calm by the time they reach the ship, giving the kids time to settle in before they watch the recap. Now, more than ever, it's important to tell them that they're all in the same boat (metaphorically, not just literally) - he tells them, "They are not your enemies" and hopes they realise the double-meaning there - to work together, to escape the Capitol together.

They watch the reaping recap. Augustine cringes when Norman's daughter is selected; he blinks in surprise when a girl from Eastern Unova volunteers to go into the Arena with her twin brother. The eldest are Red, the boy from Kanto, and Korrina, the girl from Coastal Kalos; the youngest are Lyra and Dawn, two little girls from Johto and Sinnoh. There are some strong-looking competitors - the Eastern Unovan twins, the Kantonese boy, the Hoennites. His own two.

Perhaps they'll all survive. He hopes they do.

The tributes go to their dinner, and the mentors retreat for their own meal (and a good amount of drinking). Augustine leans back against Lysandre and asks his fellow mentors what they think.

They are optimistic. Worried, but hopeful. They have good kids; they want them all to survive. They're a tough-looking group, collectively - much moreso than the last year, when the average age was thirteen, when the fourteen-year-old boy from Western Unova won and the highest score was attained by a twelve-year-old. (And honestly, Augustine will forever be surprised that Ash - Satoshi, his name was Satoshi - didn't win. He was a surprisingly tough kid.)

Perhaps this year will be the one where they all get out alive, where they turn the rulebook on its head.

The Hunger Games mean the deaths of seventeen good kids every year, and Augustine sets his jaw and thinks, Not this year.

Augustine sends off his tributes to the Opening Ceremony, painted in gold with a crown of chains set upon Calem's hair, Serena's bound up in the same. It's an alarmingly appropriate analogy, he thinks as he takes his seat amidst the other mentors; they are chained up in this, caught with no way to escape.

Well. No way to escape that the Capitol knows of, at least.

Not this year.

The tributes go to their dinner and he and the other victors are sent off to a party of their own, decadent and luxurious (for the guests, mostly). Reclining back on plush lounges, the Capitol elite enjoy alcohol and rich foods, music and entertainment, seeking out warm bodies to touch and grasp. Augustine bears it because he must, escaping whenever he can to seek better company - to hide away with Lysandre in a dark corner, or to meet with Steven over drinks, or to check up on N.

And to all of them, he exchanges looks and raised eyebrows and contextless questions, inoccuous to anyone observing them, but asking, to those who know, if they are ready.

They have plans. They have resources. They will not let the Capitol destroy the lives of children again.

It won't be easy, but he's determined. For once, he's going to fight like hell - he'll do it for them, he will do everything he can to preserve the lives of the innocent. He won't let the Capitol claim Serena and Calem, he won't let Shauna and Trevor die. He's going to ensure that they live long and happy lives, free of fighting for their lives, free of the Capitol, free of the Hunger Games.

Or he will die trying.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty

He is right. Calem and Serena are both formidable opponents, both scoring extremely respectable scores of ten.

They're both jubilant, knowing that they're amongst the toughest of the competitors, tying with Hilda of Eastern Unova and all three second only to Red, the Kantonese boy, with a near-unprecedented score of eleven. Augustine is grinning, holding a hand up to them to hear the Mountain Kalos scores (and then wincing when he does - Trevor has a decent-enough score of seven, but Shauna only has a four, equal to twelve-year-old Lyra from Johto), then turning back to them.

"Right!" he calls, "You've both done fantastically, so that means a few things for you - first, the odds will be highest for you, Hilda, and Red, although that's not really relevant for you. You can't bet for yourself, after all," he adds with a grin. "Now, these will matter to you - one isn't very good, one is pretty great."

They've both fallen silent now, watching attentively. "Can we have the bad first?" Calem asks cautiously.

Augustine nods. "The bad news is that scores of ten means that you're officially a threat," he explains, holding both hands up. "You have two main sources of danger in the Arena - the other tributes are one, and they'll know that you're tough." He drops one hand, looking pointedly at the other. "And the other is the Arena itself - the Gamemakers will try to even out the odds by targeting you more than, say, someone who got a low score."

"Four," Serena murmurs quietly. "What if we ally ourselves with someone who got a four?"

"With Shauna, you mean?" he clarifies, and she nods. "It's hard to say, honestly. They may wait to see what you do, so allying yourselves with Mountain Kalos would be a good idea."

They nod. "And the good news?" says Calem.

"The good news is, a high score means you're more likely to get sponsors and lifesaving materials - although that will also depend on your performance in the Arena," he adds hastily. "I only scored a five, but I got some good gifts - food, a brace for when I broke my wrist, and antibacterial gel. The latter may have saved my life."

(A client at the Capitol, at the Victory Tour, that he owes his life to; his hands held down, his limbs manipulated, feeling it on his skin for weeks afterwards.)

"Betting odds, we're threats, and we might get sponsor gifts," Serena mutters, half to herself. "Got it. What happens now?"

"Now, you can relax a bit!" Drasna says cheerily, and Calem gives her a look so incredulous she actually laughs a little. "No, honestly, don't give me that look, you look just like Augustine when he was your age. I mean it - there's nothing until the interview show tomorrow night."

Augustine sits back on the sofa, feeling a modicum of relaxation. There's a full day before the interview show - and while he and Lysandre and his friends have their nightly torment to look forward to, the last day is both relaxing and nerve-wracking. "If you want," he tells them, going through a mental checklist that he's done nearly twenty times now, "The training centre will be open tonight and tomorrow - they won't have all the stations and trainers, but you'll be able to practice on the obstacle course, use the gym, those sorts of things. Tonight and tomorrow will also be a good opportunity to meet with anyone you want to be allies with. Trust me, allies can save your life in the Arena."

They both nod, glancing at each other and nodding once. They'll be teaming up, then, and hopefully they can join with Mountain Kalos as well - Shauna and Trevor might not be formidable fighters, but they're both intelligent, they're capable survivors.

And the four of them, together, just might make it out alive.

Serena and Calem decide to venture down to the training centre after all, and Augustine lets out a sincere sigh, collapsing back against the sofa. Drasna chuckles, moving to sit next to him. "They did extremely well," she says with a smile, "Although you should know better than anyone that the scores don't necessarily translate to victories."

He shrugs a little, letting out a wordless hum. "True... but they do help. I think they really will do best if they team up. Lysandre and I have been watching how they go - Serena and Calem are superb fighters, and Shauna and Trevor are both clever and resourceful. They have the skills needed to get through the Arena."

"Until the end," she murmurs. "Mm - you know, some of the kids remind me of you, in a way?"

Cracking open an eye, he gives her a quizzical look.

"Shauna and Trevor both lack self-confidence," she clarifies. "When you were that age, you did too - you assumed you were going to die because of your score. I'm fairly willing to bet that upstairs, Lysandre is telling Shauna that she may well survive, because look at your achievements - lacking confidence doesn't mean lacking skill."

Augustine makes a thoughtful noise. "Maybe," he murmurs. "Lysandre seems to have practically adopted them, too. Trevor even has his hair colour," he adds with a grin, "Maybe we somehow accidentally had kids together."

She laughs at that. "I can just see a handful of little kids running around!" she teases, "Calem looks a fair bit like you, you know. When he gave me that look earlier, I honestly thought I was seeing you at seventeen again."

"I wouldn't want to be seventeen again for anything." Augustine manages a sardonic chuckle, then straightens up, the weight suddenly on his shoulders again. "I should get ready. I've got the usual horror show tonight."

Drasna stands as well, reaaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "Be brave, nephew," she murmurs, straightening her shoulders. "Be strong. I'll be right here if you need me."

"I know," he says with a sad smile, and leaves to get ready, to step back into his hell.

The last full day in the Capitol dawns bright and sunny.

Augustine can feel the warmth of sunlight through glass against his skin, joined with the delicious sensation of a hand running through his hair. He murmurs a little, nuzzling Lysandre's hand and breathing in deeply, eyes flickering open and finding Lysandre's expression pensive and faraway.

"Morning," he whispers, and yawns widely, reaching for his hand. "How did you sleep?"

Lysandre shrugs, lying back down and tracing patterns against Augustine's skin, leaving tingling trails in the wake of his fingers. "What about you?"

Augustine gives him a look and a sound of deep displeasure, although at least part of it is put on. The nightmares are horrendous, but it's hard to think about them here - sleepy and content, Lysandre's body warm against his own.

Lysandre settles against him, and Augustine reaches up to run his own fingers through fiery locks. "How long do you think we can get away with staying in here? I'm happy to have breakfast in here... later. Although, I will admit, a coffee would be nice."

He laughs softly, the caffeine cravings returning in full. "Were you more interested in dessert first?" he says with a grin. "We can wait. Just a little longer... come here."

Tomorrow morning, the tributes' fight for survival begins. This morning, he intends to feel alive.

Lysandre kisses him until he's breathless, pink around the edges, hands plunged into Augustine's hair, and Augustine wraps himself around him, pulling him close. The hard lines of Lysandre's body are deliciously hot against him, hipbones and ribs and limbs, Lysandre's skilled fingers tracing his skin like he's a work of art, something truly appreciated, something adored.

The rooms are soundproof, and for that, he's very grateful, given the sounds that Lysandre is causing him to make.

He pulls Lysandre more properly on top of him and surrenders to his touch, knowing that this time, he's safe, adored. There's something marvelously purifying about the way Lysandre touches him (even if what they're doing isn't exactly, strictly speaking, 'pure') - he has a way of knowing how to trail the fingertips of one hand down Augustine's side and to grasp at his hip, or to nuzzle and nip at the hollow of his throat, leaving blazing lines of kisses across his collarbones and jawline, chasing away bad memories and worse nightmares.

The Capitol tries to break them and he and Lysandre put each other back together. It's not perfect - there are scars where they have left injuries too deep to heal, invisible to anyone else but completely apparent to anyone who knows. Lysandre can read him like a book; he can see the history that the Capitol has left on Augustine's soul and soothe the hurts, kiss it better.

He is so lucky to have him. He is so lucky to have someone at his side, a companion, a lover, a soul mate, that understands, that can see what happens to him and understand because they are his experiences too, and perhaps they are not perfect, perhaps they both have wounds that go too deep for even the most healing of touch, but here, in their bed, with the warmth of a new day streaming through the window, with no need to rise early, nowhere they need to be but with each other, it's as close to perfect as they're ever going to get.

The interviews that evening go well.

The reading of the card for the Quarter Quell, less so.

He knows, Augustine thinks as the President walks out.

He knows, Augustine thinks as the President holds up the envelope.

He knows, Augustine thinks as the President announces that one of the two mentors for each region will be returning to the Arena.

He knows, Augustine thinks as the President calls out name after name.

Janine for Kanto.

He knows. He knows that she is a rebel, he can punish both her and Koga this way.

Morty for Johto.

He knows. Eusine also gets hurt this way.

Steven for Hoenn.

He knows. He's making Steven go fight the daughter of another rebel, he knows that Steven and Wallace are both involved.

Byron for Sinnoh.

He knows. Byron never stopped fighting, not even killing Roark did it, now he's going to try to kill Byron himself.

N for Eastern Unova.

"...Dad?"

He knows. He tried to kill his son once and failed, now he's going to try again.

Roxie for Western Unova.

He knows. He knows her fans are loud and angry and can do things.

Valerie for Coastal Kalos.

He knows. He knows that Valerie is probably the less capable fighter compared to Grant, but stronger emotionally. He can try to kill her and emotionally destroy him.

He knows.

He knows.

He knows.

I know.

I know.

I'm sorry, Lysandre.

Augustine's name is called for Central Kalos, and he ascends the stairs on trembling legs, feeling as unreal and as detached as he had after that first night, as hurt, as broken. The Capitol is going to pick them off, one by one, and he fixes his gaze on Lysandre, focuses on bright, blazing blue, focuses on him to keep himself in this world where he will have to fight for his life again.

He knows.

Lysandre for Mountain Kalos.

He knows!

Lysandre reaches for his hand and Augustine takes it. He can't see his eyes now, but he can feel his warmth and solidity, can feel that he's here with him, and he gazes out unseeingly at the audience and wonders how it all went so catastrophically wrong.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-One

It hasn't been a good night.

It's not a good morning.

It definitely won't be a good day.

Augustine does not want to leave the bed. He has Lysandre with him, warm and solid and gloriously alive, and he doesn't know what will happen if they leave the room for the outside world. He doesn't know what will happen in the Arena, he doesn't know if they'll all make it out.

They had planned to guide the tributes until the time came for others to break them out of the Arena, and to join with them later. Now they were to be sent inside, to fight for their lives as well - and, worse, with the knowledge that these were not the usual Games.

He had survived the Arena already. But that was before the Capitol was trying to actively kill him.

Lysandre stirs eventually, and still they linger, talking quietly, clinging to each other, the rings that Diantha had secured for them clinking together gently. But eventually Lysandre has to get up and leave, and Augustine kisses him fiercely and desperately, knowing that the next time they see each other will be in the circle of the Cornucopia.

"Tell your kids," he whispers, dry-mouthed. "And I'll tell mine - we'll get as many supplies as we can, then meet and get away. I'll see you in there. We'll survive this."

He wishes he could believe himself.

Lysandre leaves, and Augustine reluctantly gets himself ready, washing, dressing in the Arena uniform - shorts, a sleeveless shirt, and socks - they have left for him. It's cold, and he wraps his dressing gown around himself, finally venturing out and knowing that he looks exhausted.

Artemis' Poke Ball is in his pocket. He clings to it, keeping her as a lifeline.

Drasna and Alexa are already up, but neither of the tributes are yet, and he gives in to their fussing. Quietly, he repeats the instructions he told Lysandre to Alexa, and she hurries off, ready to spread the word to the other mentors - well, tributes now - and telling them to tell their own tributes.

They intend to survive this.

Calem is the first out, silently collecting breakfast. Augustine smiles weakly at him, starting with the instructions before even saying good morning: "Calem, you'll be speaking Unovan in the Arena, it's the official language. Make sure you don't step off the platforms before the countdown finishes. Get as many items as you can from the Cornucopia, then meet up with your allies, if you have them. Once you do, get away from the Cornucopia and start looking for shelter and water. Got it?"

Calem nods once, his expression grim, his face pale. "Can I ally with you?"

Augustine nods. "That's what I was hoping for," he says with a tight smile. "When Serena is up, we'll ask her if she wants to join up with us too, and I think she was intending to join up with Mountain as well. I am."

A sharp grey gaze meets his own. "You and Lysandre?" Calem asks, "Okay."

Smiling back anxiously, he gets to his feet, moving over to Calem's side of the table and reaching for the pitcher of coffee. Once he's close, he ducks closer in pretense of collecting the sugar that's also nearby, murmuring in his tribute's ear: "We're not fighting anyone. We'll meet up with Mountain - the others will do the same - and then we need to get out before they realise we're not fighting. Got it?"

Calem nods minutely, and Augustine returns to his side of the table, returning to his breakfast in silence.

Serena emerges soon after, also in her dressing gown, hair braided, steel in her eyes. He repeats his advice to her, and Calem leans over to give her the extra information.

After breakfast is time to wait, time to get thoroughly anxious, and Augustine sits, drinks coffee, and tries to take deep, steadying breaths, knowing that he'll be in the Arena again with some of his closest and most trusted friends, knowing that the only danger will be from the Capitol, knowing that they'll be alright if they can manage to work together to evade the Gamemakers.

They may well survive this, especially if luck is on their side, and right now, luck is exactly what they need.

He only hopes it will be enough.

It's cold in the Arena.

It's a frozen white landscape, and Augustine keeps his gaze fixed on Lysandre, bound to him by cool blue eyes and fiery red hair. They're ready, and they're going to make it, and he nods, both turning to find their tributes. Shauna is almost directly opposite him, just past the Cornucopia; Serena is somewhere to his right, Calem to his left. He's not sure where Trevor is - hidden from sight by the Cornucopia, he assumes.

He finds Steven, nods to Morty. N is pale, Valerie is trembling.

But they're ready. They're going to fight.

The end of the countdown is almost muted. His boots hit the snow and he runs, gathering all he can, almost tripping as he bends to grab at a pack, at a water flask.

Calem calls his name, racing towards him. He flings an arm out to show him where to go, already on his way to meet with Lysandre. Trevor has spotted them and is running from the other side of the field, Serena has caught up to them. "Find Shauna!" Lysandre calls, and they turn outwards, scanning the field for her.

"Augustine, Lysandre, I found her, let's go!" Serena shouts, both girls racing for them, and they turn to the shelter of the trees, and they run.

Twenty-five of them make it out.

Roxie and Rosa are not so lucky.

Eventually, they need to rest, Augustine's lungs heaving, arms still full of the items he's managed to gather. They dump them on the snowy ground and he slumps down next to Lysandre, head pillowed on his shoulder.

He's so tired already.

They count out the supplies they've managed to get - a good amount, and the part of Augustine's mind that has been a mentor for far too long notes that this would be more typical of what the Cornucopia victors would have available to them. But these aren't normal Games, are they? They will all need to be able to survive - just until the middle of the third day, they just need to make it that far...

It seems so far away, here in the Arena, where death can come at any second.

They go to find water (indeed, Augustine nearly steps in it), filling their flasks, talking quietly. Naturally, Abomasnow-mutts take that time to attack - he manages to leap across the stream, helps the kids across, is watching Lysandre and Shauna prepare to jump when he spots the second one, but it's already hit Shauna, and he's about to shout in alarm when flame comes out of nowhere.

They run. They take shelter, drink their fill of water, and warm themselves up. The source of the fire is revealed as Incendie, Lysandre's starter from his own Games, the one he had lost before finding Espoir. Once a small and fluffy Litleo, Incendie is now fully grown, a rather intimidating Pyroar.

(Okay, it's not that intimidating with Incendie attempting to groom Lysandre's hair, and for a moment, Augustine misses Artemis, safe in her Poke Ball and staying well away from ice and snow.)

They walk. Augustine is tired, head aching, heart aching. He does not want to be here.

Calem and Trevor fall. One dies. One is lost. It's not until evening and the anthem and the parade of the dead projected in the sky that he learns it was Calem's life that was lost, his own tribute falling to his death in a place he doesn't want to be.

He has broken his promise. Not everyone will be getting out.

He turns to Lysandre for comfort and company, falling asleep with his head pillowed on Lysandre's lap, his soothing hands keeping the nightmares from consuming him. Longing to be near him, wanting affection, wanting warmth, it turns out to be a little too literal when the Capitol attempts to set them on fire and they have to run for their lives again.

It's alarmingly typical of the Capitol, really.

They plunge into a half-frozen river, the water so cold that Augustine's limbs almost instantly go numb, grateful for Steven and Lysandre's swimming lessons over the years. He's treading water, teeth chattering, when the Basculin strike, and it's honestly not fair, it's not fair that they have to face fire and water, the Capitol striking at them with explosives and crevices and flames and very sharp teeth.

He wants to go home. He just wants to go home and be at peace, without the shadow of the Games and the Capitol hanging over his head.

Why can't he have that? Why is that too much to ask?

They escape (just), and Augustine, Lysandre, and the girls trudge away from fire and water. Steven is a welcome sight, and he's able to get to sleep almost immediately, curled up beneath a blanket with Lysandre, knowing that he's about as safe as he can be in the Arena.

He only stirs when they switch watches, Steven curling up against him as May, Norman's daughter, prepares to watch over them. They're in good hands, and Augustine gives Steven a sleepy smile, adjusting the blanket so all three of them are covered.

Steven gives him a tired smile, using Augustine's shoulder as a pillow. "Are you alright?" comes the soft whisper, "I'm sorry about Calem - what happened to Trevor?"

Augustine winces a little. "They both fell into a crevice," he says, voice dull. "We had a rope, but it wasn't long enough... I assume Calem died instantly." He hopes he did. He hopes it was fast. "We couldn't get Trevor out, but - he's still alive, I'm sure of it."

Nodding slowly, Steven lets out a soft sigh. "We were ambushed by mutts. Brendan was near the back, he - they caught him by surprise, otherwise he would have fought back - I think it was fast, at least. Lucas... he was too small to fight them off. He was only thirteen years old. Dawn wouldn't have made it either, but..."

Augustine thinks he's become very good at reading smiles, and he sees both sadness and a weird sort of relief in Steven's.

"Byron saved her. I think - I think it was for the best. He never really got over Roark's death, and now he could sort of redeem himself by saving the life of another twelve-year-old. Another child, really. They're all children, though. God, they're all just kids."

Nodding slowly, Augustine wraps an arm around Steven's shoulders and hugs briefly. They are all linked in this together, all doing whatever it takes; they all mourn the losses, he can understand why Steven would feel relief that Byron's suffering has come to an end.

"We should sleep," he whispers, and Steven nods, wrapping the blankets more firmly around them, curling close.

Within minutes, they are all asleep.

The artificial sun rises, and they part ways with Steven, May, and Dawn, Augustine's hand lingering on Steven's just for a moment before he turns and reaches for Lysandre's.

They hunt for berries, find them, eat their fill. They have full stomaches and, thanks to the stream they find, are safely hydrated.

They search for firewood.

They find splintered wood and purple slime, and he stares at it thoughtfully, knowing that he's seen it before.

It drops, it sizzles, and memory floods back as the smell hits them, and Sophie is dying in his arms all over again, and he won't let this happen, he can't, he won't, so when the Weezing turn on them, he doesn't hesitate before he scoops Shauna up and covers her mouth and nose, knowing that he'll breathe the poison in himself, knowing that he's sealed his fate but may have saved her from it, and when he bursts out into the fresh air and pulls oxygen into his heaving lungs, feeling each breath burn, Lysandre is screaming his name, demanding to know how much he breathed in, he knows that he will not be leaving the Arena alive.

"Too much to survive it," he whispers. But I saved her. "I'm sorry."

And blackness takes him.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Two

He is being haunted.

From his position on Lysandre's back, burning with fever and unable to hold on to consciousness for longer than a few minutes, struggling to breathe, he is not alone. The girls walk beside them, Shauna limping but alive, and next to her and Serena is another girl, Sophie watching him die with sad eyes and a sad smile.

He's glad he ended her life quickly, then. He would not wish this pain on anyone.

Sometimes, it's Volkner there, struggling to breathe along with him as Jellicent poison paralyses his lungs. Sometimes, it's Manon, smiling tearfully as Alain murmurs that she should rest now.

They're all dead, now. Sophie, Volkner, Manon and Alain - all of them died to poison, all of them burned from the inside out. The Capitol has poisoned them all, the Games have poisoned them all.

And now he's going to join them.

He can't ask Lysandre to take his life - while he no longer regrets giving Sophie a peaceful ending, he knows that Lysandre will be haunted by the deed for as long as he manages to live. He certainly can't ask the girls - he has been tasked to mentor Serena, has taken Shauna under his wing as well - and asking them to kill him is a violation of that role. Shauna feels guilty enough, despite Serena's reassurances, despite his own; he can't ask her to do this.

But he knows he's going to die. And if he wants to bring an end to things, then he wants it to have meaning.

They stop to rest. Augustine has no strength in his limbs, Lysandre his support physically as well as emotionally, and he almost loses grasp on consciousness again as he feels a hand run through his sweat-dampened hair.

"What do we do now?" Serena asks softly.

"We wait for the sponsors to send us an antidote." Lysandre's voice is deceptively calm, but it cracks tellingly on the last word. "It will come. It has to."

But Augustine knows that if there is any way in the world for Drasna to ensure that he makes it through, she will have done it by now. And he knows that there's no antidote. The Capitol intends for him to die - they will not allow him to escape their grasp again.

"There's no antidote coming. Lys..." His voice holds no strength; he has to force it out. "There's no antidote coming, they'll never allow it, they sent us in here to die. You can survive, but..." Tomorrow. He just needs to wait until tomorrow, but the poison is advancing too fast, he's a burden, he'll slow Lysandre and the girls down, possibly cause their own deaths... "I won't last long enough."

"No. No."

Letting out his breath as steadily as he could, Augustine forces a smile on to his lips, turning to the girls. "Serena, Shauna, I need to talk to Lysandre privately." He needs to understand. He needs to, so you all survive. "Could you give us a moment?"

Serena bites her lip, then helps Shauna to her feet and complies.

They retreat. Lysandre turns back to him, and the first tears spill from his eyes. "Augustine..."

He smiles. "It's okay," he says softly, lapsing back into Kalosian. (What does it matter, now? What will they do, kill him again?) "Lysandre, you need to listen to me, d'accord?"

Slowly, Lysandre nods, reaching up to cradle Augustine's face between his hands, brushing away the tears gathering in his own eyes with a gentle thumb. "It's not okay," he whispers shakily, a sob in his voice. "Augustine, I can't do this."

"You have to," he says quietly. "For the girls' sake, and for Trevor. You have to be strong and help them. You have to survive. Promise me you'll live!"

Lysandre pulls Augustine into his lap, clinging to him as if holding on to him can purge the poison from his body, and chokes out an, "I promise."

"Je t'aime," he whispers, letting Lysandre return the words, kiss him fiercely, say all the goodbyes he'll never get to say now. He needs Lysandre to be strong, to hold himself together - at least long enough for them to get out, at least long enough for him to survive. Let him die - but if he takes Lysandre and the girls down with him, if there is any way he'll be able to know of it, he will never forgive himself.

From the pack, he withdraws the knife.

"No," Lysandre says hoarsely. "You can't."

"Find a way to be happy. Find a way to live. Do this for me, as my last request," he answers, and has him wave the girls back over.

They both look shaken, Serena helping support Shauna. She looks wary and haunted; Shauna looks close to tears. They both kneel, the four of them clustered together, sharing warmth.

"Serena, Shauna, I - I'm sorry. This is where we part ways." Serena's eyes prickle; he reaches out to squeeze her shoulder gently, trying to send wordless strength to her. "I know what Weezing poison does, and it's going to be..." Augustine's voice cracks a little. "Very slow and very painful. I'd still have a few hours left, but they won't be good ones. So I'm going to..."

To do what I did for Sophie.

"To take matters into my own hands."

Shauna lets out a little groan of horror when she sees the knife; Serena clasps her hands over her mouth. He doesn't blame them - if he thinks too much about what he's going to do, he'll lose his nerve.

He has survived for nineteen years since standing on the stage at Reaping Day. Now he is going to end it.

He pulls off his coat, hands it to Shauna. "For extra warmth." He unclips Artemis' Poke Ball, gives it to Serena. "Artemis. Take care of her, please."

He never even got to say goodbye to her.

Augustine's hands shake as he pulls off his glove, slides off the ring and presses it into Lysandre's palm.

Let my death mean something.

He doesn't have a gift for words. But now he pulls them from his heart, fights with every ounce of strength to keep his voice steady, to ensure that everyone hears what he has to say.

"This is what the Capitol does. This is what the Hunger Games mean. From now on, you have to fight them with everything you have. You need to survive and escape the Arena. You need to join the Rebellion, if you can, like I have. You have to make sure that the future is safe, and you have to make sure..." He looks up at them steadily, puts force in his words.

He needs to make them understand.

"Make sure that the Hunger Games never happens again."

"We will," Serena whispers, and she's trembling as she and Shauna cling to each other.

He nods once, and he can see the revolution in their eyes already. And that means he only has one thing left to do.

"Lysandre, je t'aime," he tells him. "Thank you for making me happy."

"Je t'aime aussi. Augustine, I will love you until the end of time."

Lysandre is weeping.

He smiles at him, smiles to show that it will be okay. "You should go," he tells them all softly, "I don't want you to see this."

Lysandre's lips on his own may be the last good thing he ever feels, and he watches them go, heart heavy, knowing that they've escaped. And he turns to the camera.

"I have a message for the Capitol, addressing everything that you took from me."

Let my death mean something.

"You stole my childhood when you called out my name on Reaping Day."

"The male tribute for Central Kalos is... Augustine Sycamore."

"You stole my innocence when you forced me to kill to survive."

"I didn't see that coming. So that was what the leaves were for. Well played, Five. You're tough."

"You stole my dignity when you whored me out to the highest bidder and turned me into a plaything and puppet for the Capitol's elite, and you stole my security when you promised to kill my family if I didn't."

"Augustine, as our newest victor, you will be, ah, 'entertaining' some of my good friends. I strongly recommend you comply."

"You stole my hope when you made me watch dozens of children I was supposed to protect die."

"A suicide pact. I had no idea..."

"You stole my future when you sent me back into the Arena."

"The third tribute for Central Kalos will be... Augustine Sycamore."

"And now you've stolen my life. The Capitol has controlled my entire life. I will not give you the satisfaction of controlling my death as well."

Au revoir, Lysandre. I love you.

"I win."

He raises the knife and slashes it across his throat before he can lose his nerve, and it hurts, it hurts so much, it hurts more than anything he's ever felt before, but there's nothing that can be done now, the deed is done, so inevitable he almost wants to choke out a laugh, and all that is left is to close his eyes and go to sleep.

Augustine closes his eyes, and goes to sleep.

He wakes up.

That part was not in the game plan.

He's awake and in a hovercraft and the pain across his throat is searing but he's awake and conscious and alert and fighting back, because they know he's a rebel and he knows what the Capitol do to rebels, and and one of the medics pulls away a strip of cloth stained dark red to replace it with another, giving him an inscrutable look as he jabs a needle into his arm and everything goes cold and blank and white again, and all he can think is, "I'm alive, I'm still alive."

He wakes up.

This is a little more concerning, because now the pain is mostly gone - but he's flat on his back on a med bed, wrists and ankles shackled, gagged, stripped down to his filthy Arena underclothes. He's now lucid enough to realise that he's in a rather significant amount of trouble.

He's a rebel being held by the Capitol, a rebel who has just told every single person watching the Hunger Games to fight back against them, and he can even guess why they saved his life. If they can have a living rebel, one to interrogate and - his mind blanks in horror - to torture, then that's probably better than death.

If he had died in the Arena, then it would be a convenient way to dispose of him. If he had stayed alive and free, then he would have escaped, joined with his companions, fought back.

But they have him.

The gag is ripped from his mouth and Augustine gasps for air, his eyes smarting as he struggles to pull air into his lungs. He's still affected by the poison - every gasp of air burns, and he chokes, coughing, struggling to breathe steadily, because he is definitely going to need to have his wits about him if he's to survive this.

A figure in grey moves into his field of view, smiling. "Well, Augustine," he says calmly, "You have caused us a bit of trouble, haven't you?"

"Have I really?" he says without really thinking about it, "I'm so glad to hear that."

Did his message get out? He doesn't know, but he still manages to smile pleasantly at the man he assumes will be his torturer.

The man does not smile back. "It's not just you, you know," he says calmly, "You've put many people in danger with your actions - including your lover, your tributes, and your friends. I hope you have a good long think about that while you stay with us."

His arm is grasped firmly, and Augustine twists to see a medic inject something into his arm, starting to shout a protest before the sedative starts to work on him, and he's fighting, pulling against the shackles, trying to strike back, trying to stay conscious...

He wakes up.

He's in a cell, on the floor, still in his underclothes, and the walls and floor and ceiling are featureless blank white, save for a metal shelf that he assumes is meant to serve as a bed, a toilet, and a faucet directly over a drainage hole.

Augustine pushes himself to his feet, pausing to get his balance and to work out the aches and pains from being left unconscious on the floor, and moves to the door - it's constructed of thick white metal, a removable transparent panel near the bottom that's just large enough to slide a tray through, with gaps for air. Crouching, he stares through it, finding himself in a circular prison with countless other unmarked doors in a circle facing an observatory tower.

And then he sits back down, finally coming to the conclusion that he had when he first woke up on the med bed.

He is in very, very big trouble.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Three

He's asleep when they bring them in.

Scrambling off the shelf (he's not going to dignify calling it a bed), Augustine kneels by the slot at the door, peering through intently. They're sedated, some being dragged in, some on med beds - and his stomach drops as he catches a glimpse of turquoise hair, of a pale blue ponytail.

Wallace. And Clair.

They're not the only ones. He counts five, altogether, all members of the rebellion - Grant and Eusine, along with Clair, for the victors, and along with Wallace is Siebold, Grant and Valerie's lover. They're all placed in separate cells, and he tries to memorise the locations, take note on who they've managed to capture and who is still free.

Grant is the first to wake up - or, at least, the first to call out. "Siebold!" he shouts, "Are you here?"

There's no answer yet, and Augustine presses his mouth against the grill. "Grant?" he calls, unable to shout very loudly with the pain still across his throat, "It's Augustine - I saw him brought here earlier, he might still be unconscious."

There's a few seconds of stunned silence. "I thought you were dead!" Grant explodes almost joyfully, "You - how did you survive?"

"The Capitol," he answers grimly. "What's been happening? Is Lys still alive?"

Grant makes an affirmative sound. "He was the last I saw before they grabbed us," he says grimly. There's a nasty pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is thick and pained. "When - when they grabbed us. Some people didn't make it. Olympia is dead. And Wulfric."

"And Lance," comes Clair's pained voice. "He was trying to defend me."

"I'm sorry," Augustine says softly, sitting back on his heels in stunned disbelief. Olympia... he has never been as close to her as he is to Lysandre or Steven, but she's a friend. She's family. And now she's dead.

But Lysandre may still be alive.

"What's been happening in the Arena?" he asks.

It's Grant that answers, his voice heavy with familiar grief and guilt. "Korrina - she died just after - well - just after we thought you did. And Nate, the boy from Western Unova, and Leaf, the girl from Kanto."

"I'm sorry," he says again, and sits back.

Siebold is the next to wake up, Grant calling to him reassuringly, and then Wallace. Eusine has apparently been awake for a little while, but has been sitting silently, buried in grief - while Kris has been serving as the other mentor for Johto, Eusine has still seen his fiance die, has seen Lyra and Ethan lose their lives.

Lysandre won't know that he's alive. He will be feeling the same grief Eusine is lost in now. For a moment, he feels quiet, insidious guilt that he has done this, that he has caused this pain on Lysandre.

But if he survives the Arena, he may see him again. He needs to hold on to that.

It may be the only thing to get him through.

They take him away, and he's interrogated. They ask him about the rebellion, about its members, about its base, about its activities, about its plans. He refuses to speak, staring straight ahead, letting his mind go blank and relaxed, picturing himself back at home, lying in the grass, surrounded by Pokemon.

It's a technique he's used many times while the Capitol has abused him. What's one more form of abuse on top of that?

They hit him.

He pretends to cave, to give in to their demands, and starts giving them answers, lying through his teeth - the members, the base, the activities, the plans. He almost laughs when he says that their base is on the sea floor off Unova - just let them send down submarines to try and find them! - and invents colourful and outlandish plans (his personal favourite is the one where they send hot air balloons over the Capitol, raining down flyers with unflattering caricatures of the President on them).

They hit him again, and this time it's hard enough that he sees stars. "Perhaps you need to be reminded what exactly is at stake here," one of the interrogators says softly, almost gently, and they throw him back in his cell.

This time, he's awake when the new arrivals come, and his heart leaps when he sees that they're from the Arena. Does this mean they've made it out now? Are his friends and companions free? Is Lysandre still alive?

Impatiently, he waits for them to wake, staring at the cells he knows contains Kalosians, praying that Trevor will be able to inform him how Lysandre is, knowing that Grant and Siebold will be eagerly awaiting Valerie's awakening.

Aside from Valerie, the other captives are all tributes. Red from Kanto, Hilda from Eastern Unova, tiny Dawn from Sinnoh. Lysandre is still unaccounted for, and Steven, and Janine, and N, the President's son. He knows nothing about Serena, or Shauna, or Tierno.

He waits anxiously.

Trevor is the one who informs him that Lysandre is still alive, albeit injured. The Peacekeepers had been in the process of restraining him when he had seen Lysandre pulled into the hovercraft; he had seen Tierno and Serena make it on board, he was fairly certain he had seen Steven and was definitely sure he had seen Drasna.

Janine is dead. So is Koga.

Lysandre has been shot, but still active and fighting. Injured, but alive. Augustine sits back and lets himself feel relief, despite his growing worry for Shauna, for Diantha, for Hiroshi, for Cynthia and Alexa, for all the friends he has not yet heard from.

They interrogate the other tributes. When Valerie is unceremoniously dropped off after one of her sessions, he hears Grant begin to sing softly to her and Siebold joining in, and the rest raise their voices in song, lending her calm and comfort.

He's almost calm, himself, when they come to take him away.

They lock him in a room with white walls and a white floor and a white ceiling, strap him to a chair, and turn on the projectors. There's no need for physical torture, not with this - not with footage of himself luring Volkner to his death, of himself snapping Sophie's neck, of himself kneeling over Aaron's body. Not with footage of his first tributes dying in a bloodbath, not with footage of his tributes taking part in a suicide pact, not with footage of Manon dying in Alain's arms.

They show him death after death after death.

There's a lot of them.

They drag him out again, still sobbing and whimpering apologies, and tells him that those deaths will be nothing compared to what the districts will face if the rebellion is not stopped. Rebellion, his interrogators say, means uprisings. Uprisings, they say, will mean war. And war will mean deaths, countless deaths, not just of adolescents but of children, the elderly, everyone in between.

And their blood will be on his hands.

This is what the Games are for, they tell him. Better a few deaths than many. Better to sacrifice a few youths to remind the districts what the penalty of war is. Better to restrict grief to just a handful of families once a year than to spread devastation throughout Kalos, throughout Kanto and Johto, Hoenn and Sinnoh, throughout Unova.

All he has to do is tell them what they want.

For a moment, he almost considers, his head hung low, his eyes filled with tears. He can save lives, they tell him; he can be the one who will stop the inevitable slaughter that will take place if the rebellion is allowed to start a war.

He remembers the relief in Sophie's eyes as he ends her pain, and the blankness in Aaron's, and the resignation in Volkner's, and the tears in Cosette's, and the anger in Alain's, and the sadness in Manon's, and the barely-restrained terror in Calem's, and the determination in Serena's.

And, quietly, he says no.

They're angry.

They're angry, and they take him away to one of the medical examination rooms, medics in white injecting a muscle relaxant into his arm that makes him fall limp against the restraints, rendering his struggles futile. And they say that if he refuses to talk, they can arrange to make it permanent.

A hand grabs a fistful of hair and yanks his head back, and panic forces its way to the forefront and he struggles, he tries to scream, and the medics have a clamp and a scalpel and there are gloved fingers forcing their way into his mouth, and he bites down hard and is slapped viciously, and he's crying, completely terrified, completely aware of what they're going to do.

And if it's the last word he'll ever be able to say, he opens his mouth and screams, "Lysandre!"

They leave him on the floor of his cell, blood and saliva and tears sticky against his face. He can't swallow, can barely breathe, can't make himself crawl over to the door when they deliver bread and water. He can't pick himself off the floor. He can't respond to the worried calls from his friends.

He can only lie there, tears running down his face, blood pooling in his mouth, wanting and waiting to die.

He wishes he had died.

There's a scar across his throat and they've cut out his tongue. He has been interrogated, tortured, and mutilated.

But he hasn't betrayed the rebellion, he hasn't betrayed Lysandre, and even if he dies now, he will be able to rest free from guilt.

Eventually, he's able to crawl to the door, and when someone next calls out to see if he's alright, he manages to knock feebly against the door. Wallace asks if he can speak; he only knocks back.

Valerie asks him, voice trembling, to knock three times if they've turned him into an Avox. He knocks three times, then curls in on himself.

An Avox. A victim of torture by the Capitol, marked permanently as a traitor. An Avox.

He has barely even spoken to them before.

He can't eat, can't drink. Can't speak. But he can listens, and he closes his eyes and lets his friends and companions sing him to sleep.

When the rescue comes, Wallace is the one that tells the others that he's still alive. Hiroshi carries him out. Drasna holds his hand as they give him painkillers and sedatives and a hydrating IV in his arm and a feeding tube through his nose, because he's malnourished and badly dehydrated and will not be eating for the foreseeable future, and then the sedatives get the better of him and he slips into a dreamless sleep.

He's safe. They have him out; they have all of them out.

Wallace is safe in Steven's arms. Dawn is being comforted by Cynthia. Hilda lets her brother support her, for once, instead of the other way around.

And they make it back to Orre, where they show him to a hospital room and Diantha settles behind him and starts brushing the tangles from his hair, and he's given a notepad and pen and is able to tell his story for the first time, and Hiroshi squeezes his shoulder once the medics proclaim him fit to have visitors and promises to bring Lysandre and the girls, and he smiles for the first time in several days.

Lysandre has to grab on to the pole holding up the curtains of his cubicle when he sees him, and he barely registers the amazed smile growing on his face before he's practically tackled, clinging back, breathing him in, not letting go, the air nearly knocked from his lungs when Shauna and Serena fling themselves at him too, clinging to all of them, finally safe, finally free.

He's home.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Four

Observant Shauna is the first to realise what they've done to him; Serena is the one to suggest that they all learn sign language. The significance of her statement - we'll all learn it - doesn't sink in until they leave him to rest, and that manages to bring a smile to his lips.

The Games are over and he's no longer bound to Serena and Shauna. But they have chosen to stay with him; they have become a part, even unintentionally, of his family of choice.

They leave him to sleep off the pain and the weariness of the past weeks, and he awakens sobbing from nightmares, Lysandre soothing him back to sleep with gentle touches and promises that he'll protect him.

He recovers slowly but steadily, Lysandre a near-constant by his side, the girls frequent visitors, a constant flow of friends coming in to spend time with him. And there are other lessons, too - there are other Avoxes amongst the rebellion, and it's private lessons with them that take up the vast majority of his mental energy - learning to re-adjust his view of himself, learning to eat and drink again, learning sign language and the limits of what sounds he can still make.

He can say 'hi' but not 'salut'. He can laugh, he can make exasperated noises, make sounds of agreement or disagreement, confusion or skepticism.

He can't say Lysandre's name, can't say either 'I love you' or 'je t'aime'.

He won't open his mouth in front of others if he can help it, learning to eat and drink again on his own or with other Avoxes only. His smiles are close-lipped, so are his kisses with Lysandre.

The Capitol mutilated him. If he keeps his head down and his mouth shut, he can almost forget that.

Eventually, he's cleared to start attending meetings, and he takes on the role of scribe, able to write clearly and quickly, filling pages with neat cursive. They start, each meeting, with a recap on events in their regions - Eastern and Western Unova are always the most vulnerable, this close to the Capitol, and his chest twinges at the news of martial law, isolation, food shortages.

Still, it's Kalos he always listens out for - Kalos, fighting hard, the Capitol only holding the region centres tightly, its grip on Couriway and its life-giving train tenuous, the situation in Shalour ever-fluctuating, the Muraille Coast held securely by the rebellion so that food may be delivered to Cyllage or Ambrette even if the port in Coumarine is closed.

The Capitol still holds Lumiose. Augustine is grateful that Drasna and Alexa are with them, hopes that Emma is safe, worries for Meyer and his children.

They begin a plan to find legendaries.

There is no point in fighting to free single towns, local areas, even entire districts, if the Capitol still reigns supreme. They must find a way to declare their independence from it, if not by law then by sheer strength.

And President Ghetsis Harmonia is enough of a potential threat that a legendary is not a bad idea at all.

But the choices they have...!

The question of legendaries goes unanswered for now, with so much else to focus on. There's his recovery, slow and painful (although coffee is definitely a good motivator on working on swallowing liquids). There's a new job for him to take to fill his days as his mobility increases, caring for Pokemon under the watchful eye of Hiroshi and Professor Rowan. There's the day-by-day routine of the place - meals (he does not eat in front of others, though, not yet), exercise, spending time with their own Pokemon, regular updates on news from Kalos.

There are constant nightmares, pain and fatigue, Lysandre's ever-growing grimness.

Lysandre's words reflect the words of his interrogators - better to avoid a war, better to avoid so many deaths. But it's a warped reflection, one with the solution twisted around.

No, he cannot see the merits in ending all life so that they will no longer suffer. It's a hypothetical he doesn't much fancy.

They fight back with propaganda to counter the Capitol's own, propos to share their own stories. And he dreads them, even knowing that it was his own words in the Arena that inspires them.

It's one thing to say that the Capitol stole his innocence and dignity. Quite another to tell them specifically how they take victors and mould them into the Capitol's playthings, manipulated like marionettes.

They plan their stories. The tributes, the youngest amongst them, have less material to work with, but their experiences in the Arena will be eye-opening for those who have never found themselves in that position. Even twelve-year-old Dawn has her stories to tell, and he watches as they plan them out, as their hair and make-up and clothing is carefully styled to show youth and vulnerability or else strength and determination, depending on the narrative they have to tell, as they record.

And there are the stories of those he knows, and even they still have the power to hurt.

Eusine speaks of the future he will now never have with Morty, the ring on his finger a deceptively simple symbol of power, displayed on his folded hands.

May, the only tribute not to have spoken so far, joins her father and Clair to speak of families - their own safe, but Clair's cousin dead, Byron becoming a broken man over Roark's death, giving his life to protect children like Dawn, Koga letting the Capitol kill him because nothing would ever bring back the daughter who died in his arms.

Steven and Wallace speak of the abuse Steven has undergone, the threats to Joseph Stone in Hoenn if his only child does not comply. Perhaps it's Steven's tender age of fourteen at the time it starts that makes it so shocking, but the tale brings gasps and horrified murmurs from those watching.

The child of the President, N has a most interesting story, and Augustine knows that people will not be able to look away. The President and his abuse of his only son - it's a compelling story, and he reaches out to squeeze the young man's shoulder when he finally steps away, face ashen.

Valerie, Grant, and Siebold present their propo together, and Augustine watches them quietly. They talk of time in captivity, their torture and interrogations, the abuse that Valerie and Grant had undergone; they're like younger siblings to him and they stumble to his, Lysandre's, and Drasna's side when they're done for comfort and reassurance, because they're the only Kalosian victors left.

Drasna comforts them the best she can; Lysandre's eyes are fixed on Augustine as he slowly makes his way to the stage, lifting his head to show the scar across his throat, nodding once to Hiroshi, positioned behind the camera. Silently, he lifts up the first card, and Hiroshi clears his throat and starts to read.

It's his own words. But hearing someone else speak them - he finds himself slipping back into the detached frame of mind he takes (took) when they abuse him (when they had abused him), working mechanically, moving like an automaton. Lysandre and Hiroshi both hold him and support him as Drasna speaks; by the time she is done and it's time for Lysandre to go on stage, he mostly just feels like he wants to go to bed.

He does.

The propos go out. They have the intended effect - people begin to fight back.

People begin to die.

Southern Kalos is almost bombed out of existence. There are only a few survivors in Aquacorde and Santalune; there are no survivors from Vaniville. Drasna stays with Serena until she cries herself to sleep; Shauna will not leave her side.

(They learn later that Serena's house was deliberately targeted, that Grace was deliberately killed due to her daughter's actions with the rebellion. Unanimously, they decide not to inform Serena of that. Bad enough losing her mother; worse knowing that it's her own actions that caused it.)

He agrees to help them find the legendaries.

They will be broken apart, splitting into groups. Steven will be in Hoenn, Cynthia in Sinnoh. Many will be going to Kalos, some to help with the search, some to rest and recover, and he cannot begrudge Valerie, Grant, and Siebold the opportunity.

They go home.

They sail away, slowly beginning to relax, knowing that for once they're completely free of the Capitol's influence. The ship's captain, Mister Briney, is an old friend of Steven's father, and they can be at ease, can say what they want without fear of violent retribution, enjoying the ocean air and the freedom of the open seas.

Augustine spends his time with Lysandre and with his friends and family of choice, breathing in the sea air and watching whatever wildlife they can find. Once, he sees a Wailord, and it's not until an extremely bemused Hiroshi asks him what a word means that he realises that he's been happily and instinctively signing his excited recap.

It feels like a victory, reclaiming the voice the Capitol had stolen from him. They had sought to steal his voice and ensure that he would never again speak against them, taking from him the very weapon that he had used in the Arena to start the process of bringing them down. They had sought to punish him and disarm him, and he knows that his automatic use of sign language is a firm indication that he has refused them, rejected his intended punishment entirely.

He still has his voice. He will not let them take it from him again.

The voyage is healing, but soon it must end, and in Pastoria, they say goodbye to those bound for Sinnoh, Kanto, and Johto. It's another handful of days before they arrive in Slateport, and Augustine hugs Steven fiercely and makes promises that they will all see each other again. Steven makes him promise that he will look after himself; Augustine nods solemnly, they clasp each other's hands and then let go.

Augustine feels like he's holding his breath as they cross to the mainland, boarding the train that will take them home. He distracts himself with plans and plots - a thought to explore the abandoned mines just a short walk from their destination of Couriway, an idea to make their way to Geosenge, on the western edge of Kalos, if that idea does not pan out.

Zygarde is his preference, striking a thematically appropriate balance, having enough power to threaten the Capitol without being a threat to themselves. Yveltal, he would like to avoid at all costs, if he can. Xerneas remains an unknown quantity, their location a mystery.

Lysandre speaks of Yveltal, and Augustine watches him with fear in his eyes.

They're going to Kalos, but it won't be home yet for them, not yet. And the train races on.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Five

The train derails half a kilometre out of Couriway.

Augustine is thrown against Lysandre, trying to grab on to him, but the train is rolling down an embankment and he's battered and bruised, a bird caught in a hurricane, arms protecting his head as best he can, and the lights sputter and die as the train slides to a halt - the right way up, by some act of fate - with a groan and screech of metal and a blast of cold air.

The window is broken, and this is what aids them as best they can as they hurriedly grab their belongings, Augustine still dragging on his coat as Lysandre helps him out the window. The five of them are the first out, and they turn to the next cabin, helping out Alexa and Shauna and Serena, Diantha and Valerie, the frenetic staccato of Augustine's heart slowing a little at seeing them alive and unscathed.

The window of his aunt's cabin is still intact. Augustine takes a step towards it cautiously, but Lysandre does not hesitate at all as he hauls himself back inside to help them out, Alexa pausing only for an instant before following him inside.

The cabins near the far end of the train are already burning, passengers streaming out, Peacekeepers hurrying towards them.

They get Trevor out through the cabin the girls had been in, and Lysandre turns back to help start guiding them out, and there's a spray of red across the glass as one of the Peacekeepers smashes his baton into Tierno's face.

Augustine lets out a wordless cry, but it's Lysandre who fights his way back to the window.

"Go!" he screams. "The place we talked about - Augustine, go!"

He starts for the train, then finds himself caught, dragged back, struggling violently. "He said go, so we go!" Hiroshi shouts, almost in his face, "Come on, there's nothing more we can do!"

But Augustine is still fighting him, hand dropping to Artemis' Poke Ball, and it's ridiculous, he would never strike Hiroshi, but he has to get to Lysandre, he has to, he -

"Move it, Augustine!" Hiroshi cries, desperation in his voice, and the Peacekeepers start dropping from the windows, closing in on them, and he only just hears Lysandre's voice screaming for him to run, and he does.

There's smoke in the air. He focuses on that as they run, Hiroshi still holding on to his arm; Couriway is burning, and he can guess what's happened to Lysandre's home town - he can suspect a fire-bombing, one that has destroyed the train tracks and permanently cut off their access to the mines. The coal mines will be no place to search through with fire in the air; their choice has been made for them.

The place Lysandre had talked about is Geosenge, where there would be power enough to take on the Capitol. They need to find Yveltal.

They need to save Lysandre, and Drasna, and Alexa, and Tierno and Professor Rowan. They have taken his lover, his soul mate; they have taken his aunt, mentor, and only living family; they have taken his first successful tribute and his friend...

They need to get them back, and Augustine fights back terror. If they need Yveltal to find them, then so be it.

Shauna is the first to crumple, and Serena is instantly beside her, Trevor dropping down on her other side. Augustine sinks against a rock, feeling no strength left in his limbs; he wipes ineffectively at the tears on his face with his sleeve, grateful for the support Hiroshi and Diantha offer as they flank him on either side.

They need to save Lysandre and Drasna and the others. They need to find Yveltal. They need to take down the Capitol.

Augustine just wants to lie down and sleep. He wonders, not for the first time, if it would have been better to just die in the Arena.

Failing that, he gets to his feet and presses on.

It starts snowing as they approach Snowbelle. Wulfric was born and raised there, he thinks, he should be there with them and not dead. He doesn't look at the town as they skirt by it, making for the dense forest to its south. The evergreen canopy is so thick that it blocks out light and snow alike, what little snow does make it down starting to melt and make the paths muddy and treacherous.

They press on. He doesn't think of Lysandre. He doesn't think of Drasna. He puts one foot in front of the other, focusing on staying upright and not slipping in the mud. They press on.

They reach the meadow, and suddenly, there's no more need to press on.

There are Pokemon here - wild Pokemon, many and varied, and his exhaustion and grief slips away for the moment as he gazes around with wide eyes. Espurrs, Fletchlings, Furfrou; he hears Noctowls and sees something dart through the long grass, disturbing the soft coating of snow. He sees movement out of the corner of his eye, something large and dark that turns out to be a Noctowl - but aren't there rumours of shape changers in this part of Kalos?

Augustine manages to smile gently as they wade through the long grass, the Pokemon watching them cautiously, wriggling his fingers at one of the curious little Espurr and watching it duck back behind the stand of grass it had been hiding behind. It's only when they reach the cave does his exhaustion returns; he is endlessly grateful when Siebold offers to take the first watch, tapping his shoulder and signing that he'll take the next one.

He could use the time to think, honestly.

Releasing Artemis, some of the others letting out their own Pokemon (Renard included; he's very grateful Serena has a Delphox), he settles down beside her, snagging Diantha's sleeve gently. Signing, 'Can you tell A R T E M I S what happened?' to her, he leans back wearily as Diantha fills in the Garchomp.

It's hard, listening to her explain about Drasna (who she has known her entire life), about Lysandre (almost as long). His eyes are itching with tears again by the time she finishes her recap, and he's grateful for the concealing dark.

Between Diantha, Hiroshi, and Artemis, though, perhaps he'll get through the night. Perhaps he'll be able to dream up some way to save Lysandre. Perhaps...

He's asleep before he even finishes the thought.

Siebold gently shakes him awake some time in the night, and Augustine gives him a sleepy smile as he rises, careful not to wake any of his companions. He gestures vaguely to where Valerie and Grant are sleeping, and Siebold nods once and hands him the blanket, picking his way over to curl up with his lovers, Valerie's Sylveon unconsciously wrapping one ribbon-like feeler around the chef's wrist to bring him into the fold.

Artemis is still asleep. He leaves her there as he steps outside, buttoning up his coat and wrapping the blanket around himself. At least Siebold has started a fire; it's only a little above freezing and while it may no longer be snowing, a fire is still a necessity, and he leans close to let it warm him up as he settles down.

It does not take long for his limbs to feel like they're capable of movement again, and he stands, shrugging off the blanket and doing some stretches. They have no food at all, and this is one of their most pressing concerns; they will not be able to go far without it. The stream has abundant fresh water, and he pauses by there to drink his fill - it's icy, but clear and refreshing, and he eyes the Basculin there with only a little fear.

Somehow, he doesn't think these are mutts.

The meadow hosts abundant Pokemon, and where there are Pokemon, there is food. He sits and watches quietly, silently noting their patterns and movements before gathering up the blanket again. There's a small, sheltered area near the stream, and it's there that he finds their breakfast - a good-sized collection of berry bushes, oran and pecha, rawst and leppa, and a few tamato ones that he eyes thoughtfully before disregarding as a little too spicy for them all and chesto berries that their pitiful human teeth won't be able to bite through.

Augustine spends a good half hour gathering their breakfast - abundant oran berries, armfuls of leppa berries, the rawst berries with the shorter leaves, delicate pecha berries. He leaves the best of them for the resident Pokemon and carries the rest back, setting them in a neat pile near the cave mouth.

There. That should be enough for six adults, three teenagers, and their Pokemon.

There are still hours to go before the rest will wake. With a sigh, Augustine settles back against the fire-warmed cliff wall, alone with his thoughts.

The task had been good for him. He had been able to avoid thinking about what they were doing to Lysandre.

Would they torture him? Would they interrogate him? Was there really any point in them doing so, given that they had some fair idea that the rebellion was in full attack mode? Would they cut out his tongue, would they just kill him?

Would he ever see him again? Would he ever see Drasna, or Alexa? Would he ever see Professor Rowan or Tierno, who is only a teenager, who should not have even been brought into this save for unhappy chance on Reaping Day?

None of them should have been there. This was a world that shouldn't have existed. When the war had ended fifty years ago, Kalos and Nihon surrendering to Unova, they had not expected these sadistic and pointless Games, the poverty, the hunger.

Lysandre would not want him to give up. Lysandre would want him to fight, to do all that he could to ensure that it would never happen again.

Whatever it took.

Augustine scrubs at his face, runs his hands through his hair. He'll do whatever it takes to get Lysandre back, and then...

He has decided. He will go to Geosenge and find Yveltal. And he will get back Lysandre and Drasna and everyone else. And then...

And then they'll have decisions to make.

He rests, he watches. Near dawn, Augustine reaches for an oran berry, nibbling at it, elbows resting on his knees. The pre-dawn is not silent, but alive with the sound of the wind and the Pokemon that live there, the nocturnal ones preparing for sleep, the diurnal ones waking up. It's calm enough that he manages to catch sight of the dark shape he saw before, and this time can identify it - it's a Zoroark, and the little one with it must be a Zorua. He finds himself smiling as the little Zorua approaches, snagging at a berry with little paws and nibbling at it.

The girls come out and join him; he silently explains what the Pokemon are.

The mist catches the sun, glows gold. Augustine raises his head and comes eye to eye with Xerneas.

His breath catches, his eyes grow wide, because there's no way he can mistake it, lips parted to call out a greeting he knows he won't be able to vocalise, every cell in his body, every atom, resonating at the sight of the Pokemon - the being - the Bringer of Life, cool grey eyes watching him with fascination and understanding.

And then it is gone, and he the rest of the world returns.

"Augustine?" Serena asks tentatively, "Augustine, what was that? It was a Pokemon, right?"

He nods once, and spells out the name X E R N E A S, and Serena's eyes widen, Shauna gasps, and Augustine keeps gazing through the trees as if he's looking for his own future, as if he's looking for the way forward.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Six

They split apart, Diantha and Hiroshi heading for Lumiose City to learn what they can about the captives, Valerie, Grant, Siebold, and Trevor bound for the rebellion base near Kiloude.

And that leaves Augustine and the girls, who will not leave his side, to head to Geosenge and find Yveltal.

I'll get Lysandre back, he thinks dazedly as they pack up their belongings, and, hot on the heels of that thought, is the additional one of, I'll find Xerneas again.

For Xerneas is a far better option, in his mind, than Yveltal.

If they hurt Lysandre the way they hurt him, he knows Yveltal will be far too tempting. Better to not even approach that possibility.

The girls are quiet as they walk, perhaps sensing his mood. They are silent support when he needs it most, and he finds himself watching them thoughtfully.

They're only kids - only sixteen and seventeen, still practically children. And he knows they have nowhere else to go but to accompany a broken mentor to find a Bringer of Death. But there is strength in them both, determination and fierceness that has not killed their kindness, and he can only feel grateful that the Capitol has not destroyed that part of them.

They've become a part of the family. Drasna (once they get her back, they will get her back) is his only living family. Steven and Diantha, Alexa and Cynthia, Wallace, through Steven, and, once, Olympia - they're like the siblings he never had. Valerie and Grant are younger, but still a part of his family, still younger siblings, and through them, so is Siebold. He looks at Emma as a niece, almost. Lysandre is indescribable.

With Serena and Shauna, knowing that they've survived the Arena, survived the Capitol, he's almost starting to wonder if this is what it's like to have children.

They cross Kalos on foot. Geosenge is a grim place, seeped in death, and he's almost grateful when the girls give him a reprieve from his thoughts and allow him to sleep through the night, silently keeping watch.

Xerneas appears before them again, and he follows the gentle creature to what he can only see as the underworld. Something in him is broken, terribly and deeply afraid, and he turns back to the Bringer of Life and finds reassurance and strength there.

Beneath the Earth is a chamber. A weapon. A cocoon. A man. Xerosic tells them of Lysandre's Ultimate Weapon and the search for Yveltal, of the task before them - to free Lysandre, so that he might activate a weapon that could end all life on Earth.

It must be for leverage only. Lysandre cannot possibly believe that this is the only way forward. He refuses to believe it.

But he needs Xerosic's help to free Lysandre.

Xerosic's help involves a couple of stolen Capitol hovercrafts, a militaristic black uniform, and a gun on a holster on his hip that he tries to twist away from as if it actually burns him. Serena looks visibly uncomfortable, Shauna moderately terrified; he tries to reassure them with silent smiles as they descend upon Lumiose City.

They make for the catacombs that criss-cross Lumiose, skulls and bones and ghosts buried beneath busy feet. Augustine feels like every nerve is lit up, every sense screaming for him to pay attention, to not miss a single thing in case it means their deaths.

Hiroshi is a welcome sight as they reach the first checkpoint. He greets the girls then turns to Augustine, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and murmuring, "We've got people in position in the prison. Lysandre and Drasna are definitely still alive. Hang in there, man."

Augustine nods gratefully, turning to Diantha to greet her as well, listening with resignation as she outlines their plans.

Two groups. One to free the prisoners. One to blow up the Capitol buildings.

People will die today.

There are skulls and bones now, skulls and bones lining the walls as they walk, and he feels himself growing cold, cold and tired, and it takes him a moment before he realises what he's looking at and releases Artemis from her Poke Ball with a sudden flash of light.

'Do not release R E N A R D or F A R I H A,' he signs urgently to the girls, 'There are fire ghosts around.'

Lampents. Lampents, which could easily take down a Psychic-type or a Grass-type.

He's almost wishing that he had told the girls to wait back at the rendezvous point near the air field. There are ghosts. They have guns. There will be explosives to be set.

People will die today.

Lysandre will not be one of them. When they storm the prisons, the doors unlocked, Augustine runs - scanning each cell hurriedly, searching for a shock of red hair, hoping, praying that it's not too late... He stumbles into Lysandre's cell and reaches for him with gentleness that contrasts with the urgency of the situation, and his heart almost turns over in relief when Lysandre murmurs an exhausted, "Augustine."

They emerge, and Shauna's face lights up to see Lysandre alive, well, and unmutilated.

The girls do not need to fight. Alexa calls weakly for her Pokemon, and Serena and Shauna find them, a full box of them, shovelling them by the handful into a pack. They reach for the prisoners, Serena helping Tierno out, Shauna helping support Professor Rowan. Alexa is leaning heavily against Diantha, Hiroshi has Drasna, and he smiles in visible relief at the sight of his aunt.

People will die today, but so far, they are okay.

There are mutts in the tunnels, guns blazing, mutated Mightyena being turned into mince meat, and Augustine cringes at each one, clinging to Lysandre. He hates mutts, he hates them, he hates that they used to be Pokemon and now they are abominations, and he turns away to bury his face against Lysandre's shoulder as the more gun-savvy members of the rebellion subdue them.

The remote detonator for the explosives has been destroyed.

People will die today, and it's Drasna who volunteers, Drasna and Professor Rowan, and Augustine can't articulate all the words he wants to say, pure distress slipping from his lips.

Drasna is his only living family. She has practically raised him from birth. And now she is going to die.

She leans up to kiss his forehead, and presses something small and round into the palm of his hand. He looks down to see her beloved Noivern's Poke Ball, and the vision of her swims before him as his eyes fill with tears.

"You get out of here," she tells him, gently, compassionately, one last thing to say to help him. "Make sure that the future is your own. Don't answer for the sins of our past generations any more. Please take care of my Noivern for me, alright?"

He nods numbly, reaching for Lysandre's hand with the one that doesn't have a death grip around the Noivern's Poke Ball.

"Hiroshi, Augustine, it was good working with you," says Professor Rowan, as calm as ever, and he links his arm with Drasna's. "Shall we?"

Augustine watches his last living family member go to her death, and they run, and run, away from the Capitol building as explosions rip it apart, away from the mutts, away from the place where Drasna died.

They return to the air field, manage to fight their way back on to the hovercraft, taking to the air and soaring into the sky. Lysandre is checked by the medics and then returns to his side, arms wrapped around his waist, cheek pressed against Augustine's hair, sitting silently with Incendie warm support behind them.

People have died today. Professor Rowan is dead. His aunt is dead.

They are returning to Geosenge, and Augustine will not see a single other soul die.

Not today.

They do not have the key for the weapon, Xerosic says, and Augustine thinks, good. They don't need a key for a bluff, they don't need a key to threaten the Capitol, but Lysandre is distracted and withdrawn and seemingly disappointed, and Augustine draws away from him. He's afraid, he realises distantly, he's afraid for and of Lysandre.

"Lysandre?" It's Shauna who speaks up, Shauna looking small and afraid and determined. "Lysandre, it is just going to be a bluff, right? I mean, you're not going to actually... fire it, right?"

Lysandre stares at the floor of the hovercraft.

"The world is a terrible place," he starts to say slowly.

No.

"There is so much injustice and inequality and suffering."

No. Please, Lysandre.

"We vowed to end suffering, but suffering is a part of life. If we are to carry out our vows... doesn't that mean that we need to end life, too?"

No.

He signs it, begging, pleading Lysandre to find another way, and he speaks of death, of suffering, of all the pain that they have survived through so far, and Augustine begs and pleads and draws away from him, from the monster in beloved skin.

No.

They descend, landing in Geosenge, and they return to the earth. Shauna and Serena take his hands as he follows Lysandre numbly, and he's unspeakably grateful for their presence, for their silent support on what is to come.

If he has to stop Lysandre, could he do it?

No.

The weapon is there, and so is a man, ancient and immense with the key around his neck. Xerneas is there. Yveltal is there.

Lysandre steps forward, and demands the key.

"No," the man says simply.

"Give me the key," Lysandre demands, and Augustine feels the girls' hands tighten on his own, fearful and courageous.

The ancient old man tells a most extraordinary story.

Three thousand years ago, Kalos was ripped apart by war. Three thousand years ago, people and Pokemon fought and died. Three thousand years ago, there was a man and a Pokemon, a Pokemon who died, a Pokemon whose death broke the man so completely that he felt that extinction was the only possible answer.

The man watches Augustine, and Augustine watches Lysandre.

"I don't know what to do," Lysandre says, and his voice cracks. "I don't - I can't - if we want to prevent people from suffering, this is what has to happen. We had a war and people died, and it led to the Games - if this all leads to war, what's to say that what replaces it won't be worse? And if we do have peace, then - it'll eventually end, it'll eventually lead to suffering, being alive is what leads to suffering, how can we stop suffering without also ending life?"

He's hurting. He's desperate. Lysandre is on his knees and he begs and pleads, he's hurting, there is so much hurting in him and Augustine goes to him.

He wraps his arms around Lysandre's trembling body; Lysandre clings back to him as if he's the only thing in the world that will keep him sane and stable, grabbing at him almost painfully. Augustine does not pull away, does not make any indication of pain, because it hurts but it's necessary, it shows that they're alive, that they're still there, that they're still fighting.

"It's okay," he whispers, the words garbled but intelligible, doing all he can to keep Lysandre with him. "It's okay. It's okay." Please. Please, let it be okay.

"What do I do?" Lysandre pleads. "Augustine, please. Please, help me. What do I do?"

'I want to live,' he signs, fighting to keep his hands steady. 'I want to live. With you.'

Lysandre hesitates, and then he reaches for him.

And so they do.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the grand scheme of things, freeing a handful of rebel prisoners and stopping one from using a weapon the Capitol doesn't even know exists does not have a large impact on the war.

To Augustine, resting in the rebel base in Cyllage with Lysandre warm at his side, it's the end of a chapter.

The war will play out. He may or may not be a part of it. But whatever happens next, he has found some sort of freedom, a resolution to the end of a part of his life.

He will never again go back to the Capitol. He will never again stand on the stage on Reaping Day and watch as children are selected to go to their deaths. He will never again let the Capitol use him and hurt him, and he will never again let them use and hurt the ones he loves. They are free from its poison.

Slowly, the messages trickle in. From the rebel base near Kiloude, he learns that Trevor has been reunited with his parents, and Valerie, Grant, and Siebold are safe - they will stay there until the fighting has ended, and then find somewhere for the three of them to live together.

A message arrives from Sinnoh - Cynthia, Dawn, Kris, and Clair are alive and well, with Kris and Clair leaving for the newly liberated Johto (where they will be staying temporarily with Eusine, who has still been unable to find Suicune). Clair intends to raise dragons, with Kris's help; they will do so in Drasna's memory. Of Sinnoh's legendaries, Cynthia speaks little of them, only saying that they are not something to meddle in, something beyond their understanding.

(In Kalos, there are bombing raids on Lumiose City, and the photographs of smoke rising from Lumiose Square is both painful and weirdly satisfying. The stage where so many frightened children were consigned to their deaths is now gone, and Augustine cannot say he misses it.)

From Hoenn, they hear from Steven. Along with Wallace, Norman, May, and Steven's incredibly relieved father, they had been able to track Kyogre's movements to the sea floor near Wallace's home town of Sootopolis, with May seemingly having a knack for winning over the Keeper of the Seas. But Kyogre will not help them, the Capitol is a human problem that is out of their jurisdiction, and Archie and Maxie, their rebellion contacts there, advise against finding Groudon or Rayquaza, knowing that the answer will be the same.

Steven does manage to befriend Latias and Latios. Still, they are gentle legendaries, not necessarily fit for taking down the Capitol, and Augustine has to console himself with the image of Steven soaring through the skies on Latios' back.

It's a nice thought, a peaceful one. The next time Augustine visits his friends in Hoenn, perhaps he and Steven can go flying together.

(In Cyllage, there are air raids. He and the other non-combatants are moved down to the shelter; Lysandre whispers quiet prayers and pleads as the ceiling shakes and dust falls, holding tight to Augustine and the girls, Tierno huddled next to them, Diantha and Hiroshi close and reassuring presences. Shauna is the one who whispers that they'll be okay, Serena is the one who remains unflappable and holds them together; Augustine is terrified but cannot help but be proud of his girls.)

Skyla calls from Unova. Her voice is hushed and solemn, an audible edge of excitement being forcibly stifled. They have the stones, she says, now all they need to do is find the ones to use them.

When the video footage beams around the world, of N and Hilda and Hilbert backed up by two immense dragons confronting the President, Augustine watches with relief and pride and the knowledge that, finally, things will be put right.

The Capitol will be dissolved, becoming, simply, Central Unova again. There will be elections in Eastern and Western Unova, the option of reunification.

Kanto and Johto, Hoenn and Sinnoh, they will become autonomous regions again. They may become unified under a central Nihon government, but whatever ends up ruling them, it won't be the Capitol.

And Kalos is finally one country again, no longer three regions, three districts. He will no longer need a pass to visit Lysandre in Mountain Kalos, there will no longer be checkpoints between Lumiose and Laverre, they will be able to travel freely.

They're free.

Soon, there will be time to rebuild and reclaim their lives. For now, they will recover.

Augustine returns to the meadow where he first encountered Xerneas, accompanied by Lysandre and the girls. It's spring now, and the grass is overwhelmed by a sea of flowers, one that Shauna flops into happily, releasing Fariha so the Grass-type can enjoy the signs of nature too. Serena sits more solemnly on a rock and gazes out calmly at the scenery, and Augustine reaches for Lysandre's hand and smiles.

"This is where you stayed, that night?" he murmurs, and Augustine nods. "It's peaceful. I can understand why you wanted to return here."

There's a smile on his lips, too, and he slips his hand out of Augustine's and wraps it around his shoulders instead.

Perhaps Lysandre can heal here, too.

There is a sheer rock face here, washed smooth by rain. Augustine has come well-prepared with tools, and with Lysandre's help, he begins to carve the names of everyone he wants to remember into its face, from Winona to Volkner, from Cosette to Alain and Manon, from Calem to Drasna.

They will not be forgotten.

They'll stay the night here, camping - properly, this time - in the little cave that was their makeshift shelter, dining on good food bought from nearby Snowbelle. It's a gentle time, and while the girls explore (they've managed to buy a Poke Ball each, and intend to come home with new friends), he and Lysandre can sit and talk.

They have a great deal to discuss, now.

They'll move in together, that much is certain. But the Victor's Village in Lumiose holds too many memories - they will buy a house together, an ordinary house for ordinary people, and open up the village to the homeless residents of Lumiose. Emma intends to stay in her own house, caring for the most troubled kids, and Alexa and her sister and parents will remain there as well.

After all, Lysandre tells him with a faint smile, it will be far too great an inconvenience to live in the Victor's Village in northern Lumiose, when École Polytechnique Lumiose is in the southern part of the city.

Augustine has applied for the doctorate program there, to open in the autumn when things have settled down somewhat, and Lysandre is very confident that he will be getting in.

Lysandre will be opening a cafe. He has run one before, albeit at the prompting of the Capitol to work on his talent, and he now intends to cook and make drinks for the hungry residents of Lumiose City. And there are plans, too - plans for him to start opening classes to disadvantaged people, to those also hurt by the Capitol, both directly and indirectly.

They'll help people, help make things right. And they will get help, too - Diantha has used her contacts to find them therapy, knowing that most of the other victors and tributes will be needing the same.

They are healing, but twenty years of hurt does not go away in an instant, and there is no shame in asking for help.

'And the girls?' he signs, and Lysandre nods firmly, glancing over at where Serena is pointing out a wild Pokemon to Shauna.

"I am happy to do so if you are," he says, and Augustine smiles, because he can't imagine them doing otherwise.

'Okay.'

They share dinner together, and, as the stars come out, settle down to sleep. Shauna sprawls out in her sleeping bag, Serena tucks herself in tight with Renard curled up next to her. Fariha snores gently next to Incendie, Espoir is ignoring Basculin in the stream and enjoying the cool water, and Artemis keeps guard, always protective, always looking out for him.

Augustine tucks his middle and ring fingers in, tight around the gold ring now permanently in place, and brushes the tips against Lysandre's cheek in a silent 'I love you'. Lysandre pulls him close and murmurs the same in his ear, and Augustine sleeps peacefully that night.

It's very early when he wakes up. Lysandre is sleeping soundly, and he does not stir as Augustine slips away, pulling on a coat (because even in spring, pre-dawn is chilly).

Outside, all is calm. Augustine sits himself down at the top of a ridge and gazes out at the meadow, at the early light illuminating the mist, at the flowers beginning to turn their faces to the growing day. Around him are the sights and sounds of life, life that will continue on no matter what petty human affairs take place, and he allows himself to be revived by it, to revel in the calm and peace of something that will continue forever.

He would like to see Xerneas again, if he can. But he knows that that time has passed, and if he does not see the Bringer of Life again, that his life will continue regardless.

Shauna is the first to emerge. He smiles, waving to her, and she joins him on the ridge.

"Augustine?" she murmurs, almost self-consciously, "Can I say something?"

He nods, giving her an encouraging smile.

She gazes out at the meadow, and he has the sudden realisation that it's at least in part so she doesn't have to meet his eye. "I want to say I'm sorry," she bursts out suddenly, "About what... about what happened in the Arena. In the forest."

He isn't surprised by her apology, but he is a little sad she feels she has to say it in the first place. He does not interrupt.

"If you hadn't saved me, you wouldn't have got poisoned!" she exclaims, "And - and you wouldn't have hurt yourself, and you wouldn't have got captured and - and hurt - and maybe Lysandre wouldn't have thought that he had to... you know, do that, and you wouldn't have nightmares like you've been having, and..." She trails off, her voice thick with tears, forcing out the last words. "It's my fault. I don't - I mean, I'm glad I'm still alive, but - I didn't want you to get hurt for me. And I'm sorry."

With a soft sigh, he touches her shoulder lightly, waiting for her to turn to him. 'I would have done it even if I knew what would happen,' he signs simply, 'I wanted to save you. I have no regrets.'

Shauna lets out a muffled, choking little sob, practically throws herself into his arms, and begins to cry. He wraps her up in a hug and rubs her back, making soft shushing noises, rocking and calming her.

He never wanted her to feel this guilt, either.

Eventually, she cries herself out, drawing back with a sniffle and a weak little smile. "Sorry," she hiccups, "I didn't want to cry all over you... I mean, I'm not even your tribute, right?" There's a sad little smile on her face. "What happens now?" she says suddenly, the words bursting out. "I mean - to me and Serena. I don't have any family, they died when I was seven and I've lived in the home since then, and... Serena's mother died. We don't have anywhere to go."

She looks small and sad and pensive, and Augustine gives her shoulders a little squeeze, drawing out his notepad and pen with his other hand and setting it on his lap. 'L Y S and I talked,' he explains, 'And we decided together.'

Shauna gives him a curious look as he flips the notepad to a clean page and begins to write, so she understands, so there are no ambiguities at all, and her eyes widen when she reads the neat script.

If you and Serena agree, then Lysandre and I would like to formally adopt you both.

Her eyes move as she reads it once, twice, three times, widening almost comically.

"Yes!" she cries, and practically hugs the stuffing out of him, crying again, drawing back to bounce excitedly, to dance around the meadow. And Serena emerges, and Lysandre, and now there are two delighted girls, and he and Lysandre exchange a look of affection and trust and love.

It doesn't matter what happens next. Whatever the world brings them, he will face it with his family, all together.

Chapter Text

Epilogue

"We really should get out of bed eventually, you know."

"Hrmph."

Still half asleep, Augustine buries his head in the pillow again, blindly reaching out to try and tug Lysandre closer. The day is sunny and golden, late afternoon light streaking in through the window, and the nap has been glorious - he's warm and cosy and peaceful, and the thought of having to get up and go out into the chill of early spring is enough to make him want to burrow under the blankets again.

Still, it is going to be a happy occasion. Like a little dormouse peering out of its nest, he emerges a little from his blanket burrito, blinking sleepily at Lysandre (who, rather unfairly, looks wide awake and alert, even his hair well-groomed).

"Are you done hibernating?" Lysandre grins, and Augustine responds with a grin of his own and a sign that even people who don't use sign language can recognise. "Cheeky. Go get dressed, the girls will be home any minute now."

Only grumbling a little, Augustine slides out from under the warm blanket, glancing back mournfully at his nest, then plucks up some clean clothes and pads barefoot into the bathroom to make himself at least look slightly human again.

It has been a nice afternoon. They have both had a day off, and have spent it well - going out for lunch at a new cafe, plenty of coffee, curling up warm and content while they read and listen to music, languid afternoon sex, and a nap - it's a good way to spend time.

It will be a nice evening. Five years since everything changed for the better - and with a brand new skyline, to boot.

Lysandre joins him in front of the mirror as he dresses, pulling a face at his own reflection. "I can't believe I'll be forty next year," he grumbles, "When did I get so old?"

Augustine (at all of forty-one) elbows him pointedly, and Lysandre simply grins back at him through the mirror.

Considering he once thought he would die at seventeen, and almost did at thirty-six, he's honestly pretty happy to have reached forty. Still, that doesn't mean he won't tease back. 'Oh yes, you'll be positively decrepit', he signs, then flees to the bathroom before Lysandre can do something terrible like attempt to tickle him.

What a nice problem to have, compared to the Games and the Capitol.

The girls are already waiting when he emerges, sipping at their coffees, Shauna swinging her leg idly from her perch on the countertop. "Ready to go?" she says brightly, "We should go soon, there were already people heading over!"

'Ready!' Augustine signs, slipping his notebook and pen into his pocket and reaching for his coat.

It will be a nice evening.

In the centre of the city, where terrified children once stood upon the stage in Lumiose Square, there is now something to wash away the darkness of the past. In the centre of the newly renamed Centrico Plaza, there is a tower, a new symbol of the city, of Kalos, of a light in the darkness.

Augustine - and Lysandre, and the kids, and Alexa and Emma - have been given special invitations, as has everyone who has ever had to face the Arena.

It's already crowded by the time they arrive, and he shrinks a little closer to Lysandre, overwhelmed. Still, they don't have to wait long - with a cheerful cry of, "Uncle Augustine!", an energetic eleven-year-old with her hair neatly pinned back in a ponytail emerges from the crowd, reaching for his arm. "Hi! Papa said I should show you where your seats are, okay?"

Augustine chuckles a little, ruffling the girl's hair and signing an okay, and she starts tugging them through.

"How've you been, Bonnie?" Serena asks, and Bonnie flushes pink as she turns to answer her.

Lysandre nudges him and grins. "I think Bonnie has a bit of a crush," he murmurs with a smile, and Augustine nods, laughing a little. (He's fairly sure Serena sees Bonnie, at most, as a much younger cousin or the like, given that she's literally half her age, but the preteen crush is still kind of cute.)

It's a happy reunion in the VIP area, and Augustine finds himself dragged into a hug by Steven, then Hiroshi, freshly arrived from Kanto with his husband. He happily chats (and signs) with Diantha; the girls meet up with Trevor and Tierno and all four catch up with May (here with her father) and Hilda, Hilbert, and N (...not here with his father). Meyer bounds over and grabs him into an Ursaring hug that makes Augustine's ribs protest, a wide grin on his face and a bounce in his step.

"Doesn't this look great?" he enthuses, eyes bright with pride. "My boy Clemont's proudest achievement, he planned all the lightning himself!"

It's a good achievement for a boy that's only seventeen, and Augustine smiles broadly, signing, 'Tell him that he's done a marvelous job!' once Meyer actually lets him go.

It's twilight by the time everyone has arrived, in their seats (for those who arrived earlier - or those with invitations) or standing at the back, surrounding the centrepiece of the city. There are a few speeches about the anniversary of the end of the war, an offer of good food and company to come later in the evening, and, as darkness falls, the display they've been waiting for, a tiny seventeen-year-old approaching to switch the lights on with a flourish.

Prism Tower illuminates the evening, and, as the crowd oohs and ahhs in appropriate appreciation, the fireworks begin.

Lysandre wraps his arm around Augustine's shoulders; Augustine wraps one in turn around his waist, and they gaze skyward together, surrounded by their families, surrounded by the people who they love and who love them in return, surrounded by the ones who make this new world worth fighting for, and watch as the fireworks turn the sky silver and gold.