— 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 —

━━━━━━ ☽【❖】☾ ━━━━━━

Rex's fist collided with my jaw the second Juneaux was out of earshot. Pain rippled down the side of my face while it collided with the stone floor beneath us. My vision blurred, jumping back and forth between clarity as if it were a camera lens trying to focus. I choked on the saliva gathering at the back of my throat, but as I spat onto the ground the color red greeted me.

I cut you. The thought echoed as if a distant whisper. The sight of my own blood only served as a reminder of my fault. She'd been holding back and her mercy angered me. Her compassion made my blood boil, but not for the reason one might think. Because with every warm smile, every extended hand, and every second chance only narrowed the certainty that I could complete the mission. From the start of these games, I was meant to do whatever was necessary to bring honor to my family name and return home. Every day that passed in the presence of such a blinding light forced me to see through that illusion and face reality.

At first, I called it a curiosity. One that grew into infatuation as a challenge had been posed. I found the cracks and knew how to attack her flaws. I was the stronger soldier. But what is a soldier if not molded to follow the orders of his queen?

I shouldn't have hesitated at the cornucopia. I knew who she was. How could I mistake her when she were a crown of flames above her head? I had the advantage. I'd taken her by surprise, but I insisted that I should play with my food and draw out the moment to gain favor with the Capitol. I should have known then that I wouldn't be able to taint the snow with even a drop of her blood.

I was sure that I could handle the emotional weight of the games. I'd been trained to maintain a stone-cold exterior. But ice melts in the presence of fire, and melt I did. Because that's what she was, warmth that I believe might never be extinguished.

My hands trembled as I pushed up from the ground. The truth weighed heavily. I could have killed her during that sparring session. I should have killed her. In any other situation, that final blow would have been fatal. I merely left a scratch. It was her smile afterward that made my knees weak because despite my outburst she still had faith that I wasn't a danger.

Perhaps she was just getting inside my head. Mocking my incompetence. But one thing was now certain: I could not kill Juneaux Kirchoff. No matter how much I claimed that I wanted to, she would not die by my hand and not for want of trying. I had fallen victim to her glowing charm, and like a good soldier, my sword had sworn itself as her protector.

Blood continued to pool in my mouth and I spat once more to clear the metallic taste. As I looked at the tribute before me, his brow was furrowed and his eyes were narrowed. His fists remained raised and his stance was meant to intimidate me.

"If you even think about touching her again," Rex growled in a low tone, "You won't walk away."

Like an involuntary reaction, I scoffed while wiping my bottom lip. "Because you'll kill me?"

"Without hesitation," he agreed, ignoring my derisive tone. "You should've died on that mountainside."

"The first sign of good judgement you've had." I dusted off my hands, then gently massaged my jaw to ensure nothing was broken. It was tender to the touch, but otherwise alright. "Too bad you were still desperately seeking validation from her."

Rex lowered his eyes, bristling as he muttered. "She keeps me human."

His reaction stunned me to silence. It almost sounded as if he had reached a similar conclusion that I had, only he didn't need to endanger her life to see the truth.

Rex slowly lifted his eyes. They were darker than before. "And just maybe she's made you human too."

I took a step back, eyeing him suspiciously. "What are you implying?"

"No one would have been able to touch you during the first week of the games," Rex explained. He wandered over to the pile of weapons, perusing until he found the bo staff that Harlan was so fond of training with.

"I got tired," I tried to defend myself against an accusation that hadn't even been spoken yet. "We all did."

"Not your partner," Rex contradicted, shaking his head with a chuckle. "She played you like a fiddle. Which makes me question what your angle is. Are you really just a pretty boy with nothing between his ears or are you playing the long con?"

I huffed. "What are you going on about?"

"Did you let her stab you knowing that it would lead you here?" He continued his pattern of questions without waiting for an answer. "Or have you just gotten soft?"

My jaw clenched at the word 'soft'. I ignored the pain that radiated down the side of my face.

"You know what I think?" He activated the bo staff and an electric whine hummed in the air as he twirled it once. "I think Juneaux found a heart somewhere buried beneath all that armor and metal."

I scoffed, but my lips twisted into a coy smirk as I noticed a twinge of something else reflected in his eyes. "And that makes you jealous."

Rex didn't deny the accusation. "You're twisting her. Destroying the divine creature that I vowed to protect."

"Juneaux's not a butterfly that you capture and pin to a wall. She's a raging fire. You'll extinguish her flame if you don't let her grow." I stood my ground, reminding him of something that he had apparently forgotten. "Only one is going to make it out alive. So if you've vowed to protect Juneaux, what becomes of your sister?"

He genuinely looked conflicted and pained. It was clear he had not thought through the meaning of his statement. "Honey is my priority. She always has been, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let a beast like you destroy Juneaux along the way."

"You can't keep her alive." I chuckled as if I knew something he didn't. "Because in the end, she doesn't want to win. She won't choose anyone over that little boy. Her heart belongs to that kid. And as long as he's alive, she'll choose to sacrifice herself every single time."

Rex pursed his lips, considering what I'd said. Without a warning, he tossed the bo staff to me. I caught it without a problem; however, my brow furrowed as I watched him rustle through the weapons until he found the hammer he had constructed using some wood we didn't need for the fire and some large stones. He was ingenious with his resources, that much I couldn't deny.

"You made it abundantly clear that you wouldn't spar with the likes of me," I said, but my feet entered a ready stance.

"And I still won't," he agreed. "It's time for the games to end. I'm done being civil because this cave isn't big enough for the both of us."

"I was just beginning to think the same thing." I twirled the bo. I wasn't as familiar with the weapon, but I'd had enough practice to remain confident that I had the upper hand.

I might've questioned the choice of weapons for our battle if I didn't understand how much he hated me—and I him. This bo and his makeshift hammer would not encourage a quick battle, but instead a slow and painful death. We would make one another suffer while once and for all proving the better warrior between the two.

"You're from district ten," I said, pacing the room in a circle while he did the same. "What was your trade?"

"I'd heard the livestock," he replied with the answer I expected, then added onto his statement with one that I had suspected, "But in my free time, I would craft tools to ease my family's work load."

"The soldier and the smith fighting for the favor of venus's taken heart," I noted, twirling the staff once last time before halting altogether. "How poetic."

Rex frowned. "You're so pretentious."

Then he charged.

I could have taken a step back, blocked his blow and maneuvered my way around to swiftly steal the offensive. However, I engaged his brute force with the same aggression. I didn't want to win this battle with wit or logic. I wanted to win on the principle alone of proving myself better than this farm boy.

I grunted with exertion, slamming the bo against the staff of his hammer. And from there we were locked in an unending battle of strength alone. My arms fatigued after a minute of the pressure. The hammer grew nearer while I lost my footing and slipped, losing more ground with the misstep. Perhaps I'd been too rash to discard my mind, knowing it was the greatest tool in my arsenal. Or perhaps it was a kindness to myself so that I would avoid the fate of facing her in the final two. Yes... death was mercy.

"Romulus!" Juneaux's voice echoed death the cavern hall. "Rex!"

At the mention of our names, the battle ceased. We each took a step back, poorly concealing the look of a child caught in the act with their fingers trapped in the cookie jar. Juneaux and Harlan rounded the corner a moment later, entering the chamber with mixed looks.

"Oh!" Juneaux looked surprised. "Did we interrupt your sparring session?"

"The two of you were sparring?" Harlan questioned, tilting his head as if the thought of Rex and I sparring like old friends was bizarre.

Before either one could guess at the true intention behind the fight, Rex approached the chamber entrance and tossed his hammer into the pile of weapons. "What's wrong? More mutts?"

Harlan quickly shook his head. "The world is melting!"

My brow furrowed. Rex and I glanced at one another as if trying to understand what the kid meant.

"I know neither of you were fond of the cold, but how do you feel about sand?" Juneaux asked without really providing an answer.

"It's annoying," I replied. "It sticks when wet and it has a way of finding itself where it doesn't belong."

Rex nodded his head. Agreeing with either my statement or Juneaux's, to which I can't be sure. "Why?"

"The gamemakers decided to change the arena at the last minute," Junueax explained. "And you missed your chance to kiss the snow good bye because now we're stuck in the blistering desert."

I almost asked her to repeat herself because from my own knowledge and memory of the games, never in Panem's history had they so drastically changed the arena where is slimmed the odds of survival for even one tribute. We'd adapted and grown accustomed to the winter wasteland, but we'd made the mistake of underestimating the gamemakers and the legacy Seneca Crane sought to establish. We'd forgotten that we were merely pawns in a game that could not be won. Only one would survive, but perhaps they were to be the biggest loser of all.

I couldn't help but laugh with derision. I'm sure I acquired the array of odd looks, but I wasn't wrong earlier. Death was mercy.