Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Three Months After the 74th Hunger Games

This time, when Stede spots the Capitol from the windows of the train, there’s no feeling of dread accompanying the admiration of the beauty of the shining city. He jumps to his feet and heads to the window, peering out. The last time he’d ridden a train to the Capitol, he’d been sure that he was going to die. Now he can truly appreciate the buildings that seem to sparkle in the sunlight, their reflection glittering in the lake, and the mountains that surround the city topped with pure white snow.

Hands wrap around his waist from behind and he feels lips tickling his ear as Ed whispers, “It’s beautiful.”

Stede nods, covering Ed’s hands with his own. He lets his head fall back against Ed’s. “It’s so different, now. Seeing it without the knowledge that within a week I’ll probably be dead.”

Ed chuckles. “Yeah, that’s for sure. Still full of fucking monsters, though.”

Stede sighs. “Yeah. At least we won’t be seeing any of them though. Hopefully.”

“Who’s all supposed to be there?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. John and Frenchie, obviously. And I assume some of the other stylists. Probably Lucius, since he works with Frenchie. Some other people who work in the media maybe?” Stede groans. “Which probably means there will be some shitty people there. And cameras.”

“Fucking bane of our existence,” Ed grumbles. Stede hums in agreement. 

When Lucius told them that they would be able to use the Capitol trains to visit each other in their districts, no one had ever mentioned that nearly every second of their visits would be recorded. Whenever they visit each other, the only peace they get from the cameras that follow them around like imprinted ducklings is in the private rooms of their homes and on the few times they’ve managed to sneak away, through the fence in 12. The lack of privacy has been tough, and Stede knows there have been times where he certainly hasn’t shown his best side, but having every minute of the time you’re supposed to be spending with your long-distance boyfriend be broadcasted across the country will do that to you. Even their video calls, which should be completely private, are potentially being wire-tapped to ensure they’re not plotting against the Capitol, or whatever the government is concerned they might be getting up to.

“Actually, good news.” Stede glances behind them to see that Jackie has joined them in the dining car. She’s dressed as sharply as usual, in a deep blue suit with a coat that flares out at her hips. “John and Frenchie are restricting camera use to the official wedding photographers only.”

“Really?” Stede asks hopefully. Maybe, for once, they’ll actually get to relax in each other’s company out in public.

“Yeah, kid. You think Frenchie wants to be paparazzied at his own wedding?” She shakes her head. “Fuck that.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Stede turns back to Ed, a grin spreading across his face. “Maybe we’ll actually be able to have fun at this thing.”

“Yeah, think so,” Ed agrees. He gives Stede’s stomach a light squeeze. “But I have fun when I’m with you no matter what, so.”

“Shut it, you know what I mean,” Stede says with a laugh. He spins in Ed’s arms, wrapping them around Ed’s neck. “More fun. Different fun.”

Ed quirks an eyebrow. “Different fun, huh? Well, how the tables have turned.” He dips down, catching Stede in a short kiss. “Now it’s the innocent little District 12 boy who’s seducing the big bad District 1 guy.”

Stede chuckles, pressing in for another kiss. “Maybe. Is it working?” he asks coyly.

“Maybe,” Ed echoes back, finally kissing Stede for real.

A throat clearing behind them makes them break apart and they turn to see Izzy scowling at them in the car’s doorway. “We’ll be at the station in five minutes,” he says, “if you two can pull yourselves away from each other for a few seconds.”

“Aw, Israel, chill out,” Jackie says. She leans back, clasping her hands behind her head. “Come on, you never been in love before? You forget what it’s like?”

Izzy turns his withering glare on her, but Jackie doesn’t even flinch. “There might not be cameras at the wedding, but there sure as fuck will be some at the station. If you don’t want your victor to look presentable then—”

“They’ll be fine,” she says dismissively. She leans forward with a heavy sigh, picking up her cigar and taking a long puff, holding eye contact with Izzy as she does so. “Jesus, we’ve gone over this a thousand times, they know how to look good in front of the cameras. It’s been their fucking lives the past few months.”

She’s not wrong. Smiling for the cameras has become almost second nature now. The short amount of time that they’ll be exposed to the cameras, disembarking the train and heading to the car that will take them to the wedding, should be simple to handle. Thankfully today should be fun. They can just enjoy the wedding, see the friends they’ve made, and have more of the amazing food that both of them have missed since staying there.

As they get closer to the Capitol station, they do a last check on their outfits. Ed’s in a simple silk black slip dress with a leather harness over his chest and small dangly pearl earrings. His hair is down and curled, resting on his shoulders in a soft cascade that Stede would love to spend hours running his fingers through. In fact, he plans to, when they get to their room after the reception.

John had sent over a new suit for Stede only the week before. It’s the same cut and design as the last suit he’d made, which Stede had worn to their post-Games interview with Lucius, but cream-colored with gold feather accents rather than the bright baby pink it was originally. At the time, John had planned for Stede to wear that, both for the interview and for his wedding. But John had apparently called an audible and changed the colors last minute. He’d been struck by his muse, he said, when he saw Stede in a gold-colored jacket the last time Ed visited District 12. He’d claimed that there was no helping it: Stede looked amazing in gold, and he had to redo the outfit immediately. Honestly, Stede couldn’t argue, he did look objectively fantastic, if Ed not being able to keep his hands off Stede was any indicator. 

Finally, the train comes to a stop at the station, and Ed and Stede head to the doors, Jackie and Izzy coming to stand behind them. Jackie leans into their ears as the doors open, reminding them, “Smile, smile, smile, you’re a happy couple.”

Their usual scowls at the cameras disappear, replaced by their trained smiles. They link arms and step down the stairs, Stede making sure that Ed’s skirt doesn’t make him trip. People call to them from all sides, wanting them to look into their camera or answer their question, but they ignore them all. Izzy had stated he just wanted to get to the car as fast as possible, and that suited them just fine. They’re herded into a black SUV, and once the door closes, their smiles drop.

Ed groans as he sinks back into the seat. “Fucking Christ, will they ever leave us alone?”

“Nope,” Izzy says deadpan, “they still lose their goddamn minds for Jimenez and Bellamy, they’ll never stop with you two.”

Stede tugs on Ed’s seatbelt, poking him in the chest with it. Mindlessly, Ed takes it and snaps it into place across his chest as he exclaims, “Sam’s games were nearly 30 years ago!”

“Yeah, and that doesn’t stop them.” Izzy frowns when Jackie rests her arm across the top of the seat, not putting her arm around his shoulders, but close to it. Izzy doesn’t say anything about it, crossing his arms. “It’s gotten worse since he’s gotten older. They call him ‘the Capitol’s Daddy’.”

Stede huffs, “Good lord.” Sure, he’s seen Sam Bellamy, and he’s attractive, but the Capitol’s Daddy? He hopes to god that he’s never saddled with one of the Capitol’s nicknames. All he wants now is to build a life with Ed and fade into obscurity.

Izzy snorts. “Yeah, it’s fucking annoying.”

“He’s a nice guy,” Jackie adds, a wistful smile on her face.

The drive isn’t too long. The wedding itself is happening at a hotel just outside the Capitol city limits, sitting just beneath the mountains. It’s massive and opulent, not modern like any of the buildings in the Capitol itself, but old and beautiful, like something out of a novel from before Panem. The car pulls around to drop them off, and his stomach drops when he sees the crowd gathered outside the entrance. He shouldn’t be so surprised: this is a celebrity wedding, of course. But the people lining the walkway viscerally remind him of the crowd gathered outside before his first interview with Lucius, before the Games. Attendants rush to the vehicle to open the doors, and everyone turns to find out who the new arrivals are.

Before they get out, Jackie leans over to them to say, “Remember, there are no cameras.”

Stede feels his shoulders, which he hadn’t realized had tensed up, relax. That’s actually somewhat reassuring. While they still have to keep up appearances for anyone who might have malicious intent, it’s easier like this than when they have to perform. They can be a couple without having to act like a couple. 

One by one they get out, Jackie first, followed by Izzy. Without hesitation, Jackie takes Izzy’s elbow, throwing a wink over her shoulder back at them. Izzy only sighs in resignation before they start down the path. They make an interesting couple, Jackie a good deal taller than Izzy, even more so than usual in her platform heels. 

Stede slips out next, turning to help Ed out so the silky fabric of his dress doesn’t get caught on anything. They take a moment together to prepare themselves for the onslaught, Ed rolling his eyes at the way the cheers ratchet up for them. Stede squeezes Ed’s hand, leaning in close enough so that Ed can hear his soft voice over the noise, “This’ll be fun, and we’ll get some of that orange cake.”

Ed grins. “Oh hell yeah, cannot fucking wait for that.”

Together, they turn to face the crowd, hands linked together. True to Jackie’s word, Stede doesn’t see a single camera out amongst the crowd. Even the civilians have empty hands, none of them sneaking pictures on their personal devices. It makes it so much easier to simply smile and just be with Ed, not having to worry about how he might look on a picture or clip that surfaces later. 

The walkway to the entrance is, thankfully, fairly short. They wave to the spectators as they go until they finally make it to the large, ornate, real wood doors. Two attendants open both doors for them at the same time, which Stede thinks is a bit unnecessary, but also makes him feel a bit like royalty. 

Once inside, the doors shut behind them, and the noise almost completely quiets. There are several groups of people milling about in the foyer, a few media figures that Stede recognizes, as well as some other victors. Stede spots Jackie’s tall hair to the left at the concierge desk, speaking with a worker as Izzy leans against a column a few feet a way, arms crossed, ever-present scowl right in place. He steers Ed over and just as they reach Izzy, Jackie must finish checking in, because she heads in their direction, twirling an old-fashioned ring of keys in her hand. 

“All set,” she announces. “We’re in adjoining rooms, so if you need anything tonight, you know where to go.” She tosses their key over. “Luggage will be brought up by the staff. But right now, Stede, we’ve gotta get you to John. He can’t very well get married without his best man.”

Stede can’t help but smile at that. He still finds it hard to believe that John would want him as his best man, but here he is, in a suit made especially for him, back in the Capitol at John’s personal invitation. Hand in hand with his handsome and sweet and funny boyfriend. Both of them victors. This can’t all be real.

“Edward and I’ll go find seats,” Izzy says, “if you want to take him to wherever Feeney’s getting ready.”

“Already on it, little man,” Jackie says with a wink. “C’mon, kid.”

“One second,” Stede says. He pulls Ed a little bit away from the other two before slinging his arms around Ed’s neck. “I’ll miss you,” he says.

Ed chuckles. “We’ll see each other in just a few hours,” Ed says, but his hands tighten on Stede’s back.

“Yeah, but I’ll still miss you.” Stede pulls back, keeping his arms wrapped around Ed’s neck. “I always miss you when we’re not together.”

“Fuck, Stede,” Ed says, suddenly bashful. Stede can see a blush forming high up on Ed’s cheekbones. “You’re gonna be the death of me one of these days, you know?”

He smiles, pulling Ed in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you soon, love.”

When he returns to Jackie, she gives him a knowing smile and Stede flushes. She leads him past the crowds to drop him off at the groom suite, where two other people dressed similarly to Stede are waiting and getting ready, along with John. They haven’t seen each other since the last interview, and he’s overcome with happiness at seeing his stylist and friend again. 

As soon as John catches his eyes, he’s smiling and scooping Stede into a nearly bone-crushing hug. “Stede! How’s it going, man? I’ve missed you!”

Stede taps John on the shoulder, all his breath lost to the force of the hug, and John releases him. Stede gasps in a few breaths, smiling, before he’s finally able to answer, “It’s going great. Thanks again for inviting us, it’s seriously the biggest honor.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” He turns Stede to the rest of the group. One is a victor he’s styled, the other a former stylist. “I’d like you all to meet Stede Bonnet, my best man today. Stede, this is Ned, a good close personal stylist friend of mine.” 

Ned is a shock to see at first. Their body is covered head to toe in leopard spot tattoos, and his face has been surgically altered to resemble a jungle cat. With whiskers poking out of their cheeks in an unnatural way, it’s honestly mesmerizing, and much more creative than any other plastic surgery he’s seen from Capitol citizens. Ned reaches out a hand, smooth and calm, and shakes Stede’s. “So nice to finally meet you.” Stede can only nod back, utterly captivated by their entirely look.

John pats him on the shoulder, bringing his attention to the other groomsman. “And this is Oluwande Boodhari, 67th Victor, and my first success story.”

Oluwande waves him off with a bright and bashful smile. “Stop it, I just got lucky. I’d say he’s your success story.”

Stede flushes. He remembers Oluwande from his Games, as well as other years mentoring, and he’d always thought that Oluwande seemed like an affable man, friendly with a good sense of morals and a keen intelligence. “Oh stop, it’s so great to meet you,” he says, shaking Oluwande’s hand. “I remember your Games quite well.”

Oluwande bristles slightly at the comment. Stede can immediately tell from his body language he doesn’t want to talk about it, which he can more than understand now.

He rushes to continue, “Well, besides that obviously, I’ve seen the work you’ve done in tech and all that. It’s all impressive.”

His smile grows less strained at the compliment. “Thanks, man. It’s really good to meet you.”

“We’re just about finished getting ready,” John says. He turns his attention to Stede’s appearance, a familiar discerning look in his eye. “I was right, the gold is fucking perfect for you,” he observes. “And, of course, everything else looks perfect. Fantastic.” He waves to the other two. “We’ve only got a little bit of time left, so finishing touches everyone.”

There’s not much time for Stede to get to know the other two members of John’s party as they all rush to touch up their make-up, their hair, or fix a part of their outfit that isn’t sitting quite right. Before he knows it, they’re being ushered out to the wings of the ceremony hall. Despite this being potentially the biggest day of John’s life, he doesn’t look nervous at all. He can’t stop smiling in fact, even as an attendant instructs them to get in the proper order and they wait for what seems like a long stretch of time before the music changes, and Ned is the first to be ushered out to the hall. 

They’re to walk along the back of the church to meet Frenchie’s party in the middle and walk up to the front of the great hall together. Ned is about halfway up the aisle, partnered with someone Stede recognizes to be a minor television celebrity, when Oluwande is instructed to go.

He starts to walk out, freezing when he catches sight of whoever it is he’s walking with. He turns back to John, hissing out, “You didn’t tell me I was gonna be paired with Jim!”

John’s smile only widens before Oluwande is being shooed out by an increasingly annoyed attendant. Stede glances back at John questioningly, and he simply winks. Stede creeps forward to poke his head out just in time for Oluwande to sheepishly link arms with 67th Hunger Games victor Jim Jimenez. 

Stede’s own turn out is rather uneventful. He meets Lucius, Frenchie’s best man, in the middle of the aisle and they link arms after Lucius gives him a wink. About halfway up the aisle, Stede catches sight of Ed’s face turned back to watch the procession. Stede flushes under Ed’s intense gaze, biting his lip before smiling back at him. 

“Disgusting,” Lucius sighs with a shake of his head. “Really disgustingly adorable, you two.”

“Shut up,” Stede whispers back, without any bite to his words. They pass where Ed is seated with Izzy and Jackie, but the entire rest of the way up the aisle, Stede can feel Ed’s eyes on him. He and Lucius part when they reach the front, both of them turning to go to their respective sides. 

The music shifts again, and then John and Frenchie are emerging from opposite sides of the hall. Stede is too busy searching out Ed’s face to catch their reactions when they see each other, but when he turns back to them, they’re heading up the aisle. They both look amazing, even moreso with the way they’re looking at each other as they walk together. They’re both in white, Frenchie in a simple gown with a train that looks longer than the hall itself, the sleeves of which go past his hands a fair amount, and bunch up at his elbows as he holds his bouquet of pink and white and yellow day lilies. John’s suit seems surprisingly conventional, until he passes and it’s revealed to be backless. In lieu of a bouquet, he has a long shawl of white fabric flowers that he carries in the crooks of his elbows, and trails behind him just as long as Frenchie’s train.

The ceremony isn’t overly long, simply covering the basics of the exchange of vows. Instead of rings, John and Frenchie exchange slips of paper with tattoo designs they created for each other, with the promise of going to get them done later. After a short speech by the officiant, the two of them are kissing, and they’re declared married.

The procession leaves the grand hall to spill directly into the reception area. Rather than a traditional front table for the wedding party, as is the custom in District 12, John and Frenchie seem to have opted for no assigned seating at all. Stede sidles off to the side when they enter the room, taking a moment to admire the space while he waits for Ed to find him. 

The hall is lined with old stained glass windows that filter the incoming light into a rainbow of colors. It’s gaudy, but beautiful, ornate carvings stretching along the high ceilings, natural wood floors, lights sparkling from the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Half of the room is dotted with round tables covered in cream tablecloths, pink and gold accents spotted here and there throughout the room. It’s absolutely gorgeous.

“Two chandeliers?” Ed’s voice says from his side, startling him. “That’s overkill.”

“I love them,” Stede says, instinctively leaning into Ed’s side.

“Didn’t say I didn’t like them, love,” Ed says. He turns his head to drop a kiss on Stede’s cheek. “Hi. You looked so gorgeous up there.”

Stede flushes. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, couldn’t take my eyes off you,” Ed continues.

“Flatterer.”

“Guilty.” Ed scans the slowly-filling room. “Think I managed to slip away from Izzy for a bit. You want to find somewhere to sit before dinner?”

“Absolutely.”

There’s a free table nearby, empty of anyone, but decorated with fine china and silver cutlery. Ed stares at it in confusion as they sit. “Why are there so many fucking forks?”

“I’m not sure.” Stede remembers all the fancy dinners his father had to attend as a Victor, all the lessons he endured about proper etiquette so as not to “embarrass” his father. It’s been a long time since he’s been forced to attend anything with quite this many utensils, though. “They’re for different foods, but this is more than I’ve seen. I always heard just go from the outside in.”

“All of this just to fucking eat?” Ed picks up a tiny fork with three little prongs. 

“The word they use is dining. To them, dining is pageantry.” He enunciates with his hands, twinkling his fingers around the word. He plucks the fork from Ed’s hand and sets it back into place. “That one’s for escargot, if I remember correctly.”

“Forget the pageantry,” Ed grumbles. “I just want the salmon and cake I was promised.” 

Jackie finally joins them at the table, with Izzy in tow. “There you two are, we were looking where you escaped to.” She sits, but moments later spots someone just behind Ed and Stede and jumps to her feet. “Holy shit, there they are!” She practically sprints behind them, and crushes the person in a hug. “Oh my god I’ve missed you! How are things in 11?”

“Oh they’re great, orange harvest just came in so everything here is as fresh as it gets,” the guest says. Their voice is mid-pitch and light and one that Stede vaguely recognizes.

“Fuck, yes. I have to introduce you to our newest victors!” She pulls them into view and Stede is momentarily star struck by the individual in front of them. “Edward, Stede, this is Jim Jimenez. Jim, our 74th victors!”

Jim sweeps a critical eye over each of them in turn, looking intimidatingly cool in their light blue suit. They’ve forgone any kind of jacket, leaving them in just a vest and nothing beneath, arms bare and showing off lightly toned muscle. Their trousers are made of the same fabric, all of it patterned with heavy florals and gold accents. Their tinted grey hair spills from the top of their head in tight curls, the sides of their head shaved. “Nice to meet you. The berries? One hell of a gambit.”

“Thanks, I mean it’s an honor to hear that from - uh, from you.” Ed sputters out, clearly starstruck. Stede smothers a fond smile. “Sorry, I’m just… I loved you in your Games.”

Unlike Stede’s experience with Oluwande earlier, Jim doesn’t seem to mind the mention of their Games. They smile and nudge him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. And you, Stede, fuck, you were amazing. Had all of us at the Victor watch party fucking glued.”

For a moment Stede is too stunned to even react. “Oh, wow, that’s amazing to hear,” he manages. His heart races at the mere thought of other victors watching and critiquing his and Ed’s performance, and, somehow, being impressed.

“Oh, that reminds me. You know if Sam’s gonna be here?” Jackie asks Jim.

“He wanted to but couldn’t. Got caught up in mentor duties or some shit. He sends his love.”

Was every Victor supposed to be here? Stede wonders. Jim sits across from them, next to Jackie, with Izzy sandwiched between her and Ed, leaving one last free spot. 

More of the attendees file through and fill the dining hall as appetizers and drinks are being served. Jackie keeps craning her neck, as if she’s looking for somebody, until she apparently finally spots them, waving them over. 

Jim follows her gaze and immediately looks mortified. “Jackie!” they hiss.

“Olu!” Jackie calls out, ignoring Jim and the way they’re trying to sink down into their seat. 

Oluwande sidles up to the table, hesitantly placing a hand on the free chair between Stede and Jim. “Hey, guys, is this saved?” He glances at Jim, who is resolutely staring at their empty plate like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“Oh, no, go right ahead!” Jackie answers. She grins widely as Oluwande sits. “I assume you met Stede.”

“I did. I didn’t get to meet Blackbeard though!” He chuckles, and Ed ducks his head in embarrassment. 

“Nice to meet you mate,” he says, holding out his hand. “It’s just Ed, though.”

“Yeah, I know.” He gives Ed a quick handshake. “Just a big fan. You gave one hell of a show out there.”

“Thanks.”

“Izzy,” Oluwande says, giving Izzy a nod, which is returned, before he turns his attention to Jim. “Hey, Jim,” he says softly, and Jim finally looks up. “How’s it going? Haven’t seen you in a bit.”

“Hey,” they answer. They rake their hands through their hair, giving it a bit of a fluff. “Yeah, um, you know, District 11. A lot of…food-related stuff going on. How about you?”

There’s a strange energy that Stede can see between Oluwande and Jim as they make small talk. They almost never make direct eye contact, constantly glancing at each other and smiling, then quickly looking away. Stede gives Jackie a look, and she just quirks her eyebrows in a suggestive way. There’s definitely something there between them.

Once dinner comes, everyone goes pretty quiet, just savoring the delicious food that has been catered by former victor Samba Roach. Ed practically melts when he gets the orange cake. He’s been telling Stede for weeks how he’s been craving it ever since they left the training center, and it shows, Ed going back for seconds, and then thirds. 

Eventually, the meal ends and the dancing and drinks portion begins. Stede stands up, offering his hand to Ed to bring him to the dance floor. Ed takes Stede’s hand with a smile and a light flush and joins him. 

They dance together to the light jazzy music played by the band onstage. It gives them the opportunity to observe the celebrations, and it doesn’t take long for both of them to clock the strange eating behavior. People, clearly Capitol citizens, pile food on their plates and eat and eat and, when Stede is certain they must be full to bursting, they sip down a strange, bright pink drink, bustling off to the bathroom. When they come back, they go right back to eating, piling more food up, and Stede feels his mouth drop open in shock. 

Ed makes the same realization at the same time as Stede, making a sound of unhidden disgust. He looks back at Stede, his eyes burning. “People are starving in the Districts, and they’re throwing up to make room for more food.”

It nearly makes Stede sick to think about. His home is filled with people, with children who have never had enough to eat, who are stick thin and sickly and weak because of the lack of food. “It’s horrible. Would love to see any of these people spend a day in 12, they wouldn’t last an hour.”

They laugh together, as much from disbelief as humor. It’s enough to break the tension, though. Ed looks at him through his warm melted chocolate eyes and leans in to kiss him, sweet and soft. The way they’re here together without any cameras pointed at them, it feels like they’re in their own world, where they can just exist in a moment together and not have any thought about the people around them.

At least, it feels that way until they’re brought back to Earth from wherever they were floating in space by Jackie tapping Stede on the shoulder. “Hey sorry to break up the moment,” she says. She’s brought someone over, clearly someone who wants to meet them. He’s plain compared to the Capitol citizens around them, a hoop nose ring and a delicate eyebrow ring, a few small visible tattoos, light makeup, but nothing too crazy. He looks to be around the same age as Izzy, and maybe even a bit younger. “Stede, Edward, I want to introduce you two to the new head gamemaker, David Jenkins.” 

Stede raises his eyebrows. Nigel’s death had been reported a few weeks after the Games had finished, claimed to be due to a sudden and incurable illness, but Stede isn’t so sure about that. “Replacing Nigel Badminton, I presume?”

“That’s quite an act to follow,” Ed adds.

Jackie’s eyes go wide. “Edward!” she snaps.

David doesn’t look offended. He chuckles, in fact, before offering a hand to Stede. “May I?”

Stede glances to Ed, who shrugs back at him, and accepts the hand. In his peripheral vision, he sees Ed offer a dance to Jackie, Jackie accepting eagerly. David leads Stede a few feet away and places his other hand lightly on his waist, keeping a good bit of distance between them.

David leans in, lowering his voice so only Stede can hear, “How are you enjoying the party?”

Stede grimaces. “It’s a little overwhelming if I’m honest.”

David scrunches his face, glancing around the room at the other attendees. “It’s appalling. I was never meant for the Capitol.” He shrugs. “Still, if you abandon your moral judgment, it can be fun.”

Stede quirks his eyebrow in skepticism. “Are you having fun?”

“I’m head gamemaker, fun is my job.”

“Thought that’s what happened to Nigel Badminton. Too much fun.” If fucking up and letting two Victors be crowned can be called fun.

David huffs a small laugh. He steps in a little closer, lowering his voice further. “Nigel decided to stop breathing.”

Stede rolls his eyes. “ Decided, I’m so sure.”

“Well,” he says, pausing. “His brother made it very clear that it was either that or poison berries. He didn’t pick the berries.” 

Stede nearly stumbles at that. “Chauncey?” He waits for a moment, expecting David to…he’s not sure. Maybe burst into laughter and call him an idiot for believing it. When David just continues pointedly staring at him, Stede says, “His own brother?”

“Our benevolent president has a country to keep under control. He’s not going to let a little thing like fraternal affection stop him from doing what needs to be done.” He watches the shock wash over Stede’s face. “Being head gamemaker has never been the most secure job in the world. Nigel was lucky to last as long as he did.”

“But…” Stede’s mind is racing. He stares down at the floor, trying to put all the pieces together. David sought him out for a reason. It wasn’t only to have a casual chat about the death of the former head gamemaker. 

Stede looks up sharply when he realizes it, and David nods. “You’re starting to understand the position you’re in.”

If Chauncey Badminton is willing to have his own brother killed for fucking up so monumentally, there’s no one he wouldn’t touch.

Stede’s stomach twists as he remembers the closing ceremonies, the almost unconcealed hatred that Badminton had looked at them with. His praise of Stede’s father for being a loyal victor, for his desire that the Bonnets will continue to be friends to the Capitol. His mention of Ed’s mother… Suddenly his situation is feeling much more precarious than it had only minutes before.

Stede shakes his head. “Then why are you here?” he asks David. In his own words, being the head gamemaker is dangerous. “You didn’t have to take it.”

“Same reason as Edward,” David answers easily. “I volunteered.”

“Why?”

“Ambition.” He glances around the room again nonchalantly. “The chance to make the Games mean something.”

“The Games don’t mean anything.” Stede catches a glimpse of his table. With Jackie dancing with Ed, it’s all victors now. It strikes him how young they are. They’re all just kids. He imagines Izzy, already so world-weary at age 29, as just a small thing, 17 years old, when he won. Barely even able to grow facial hair at the time. Being towered over by all the other careers. Oluwande, who had been reaped at 15, who had avoided killing anyone until he had no other choice. Until he knew he was the last one left, and the career pack was going to be hunting him down, and he had to strike first and strike hard. And Jim, only 14 when they won, the second youngest victor in history, who had volunteered. Volunteered to avenge their brother, who had also been 14 when he was reaped and essentially torn apart at the hands of the career pack. Stede had been 8 at the time, and he still vividly remembers the screams. He can’t imagine what it must have been like for Jim, at age 10, to watch that happen to their brother. They shouldn’t have had to do that. None of them should have to do this. Not one of them deserved it. “They’re just meant to scare us.”

“Maybe it was you that inspired me to come back,” David says with a wink and a smirk, and Stede just lets himself be led in the dance, confused. 

What could he possibly mean by that? Why would anyone want to be head gamemaker after all of this? After Nigel’s death. And voluntarily doing it? David has to have a death wish, or maybe he’s a psycho that gets off on killing kids. That’s the only explanation Stede can think of that makes sense. Unless he has some other plan in mind.

The music ends and someone at the head table clinks their glass to get everyone’s attention. David parts from him, giving him a nod. “It was nice to meet you, Stede, and congratulations to you and Edward.”

The newlywed speeches distract Stede enough from the interaction he just had, though it sits in the pit of his stomach like a ball of lead. There was something ominous in the way David spoke to him, like he was planning something in plain sight. It makes him feel the need to hold Ed closer, memorize the lines and freckles on his face, the feeling of his skin against his hands. He just needs to know Ed is safe and there. He knows that fear is unwarranted, but something about that conversation has triggered his fight or flight mode. 

He becomes aware of a warm presence slipping in beside him and then Ed takes Stede’s hand in his, rubbing his thumbs against Stede’s knuckles. “You okay, love?”

“Yeah, I’m just…” Stede shakes his head, leaning in closer to Ed. “Just kinda anxious.”

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks quietly. “I think we’ve shown our faces enough.”

“Are you sure? I’d feel bad skipping out.” He would love to sneak out of here, truthfully, decompress, spend some time with Ed alone, truly alone for the first time ever, maybe. But he was invited here, he’s the best man, he can’t just leave.

Ed kisses his temple. “Just tell John you feel overwhelmed, I’m sure he’ll understand. I’d like to get out of this dress and into something more comfy, too. And I heard there’s a big bath in the room.”

Stede stands there unsure of what he should do, what’s appropriate to do. People are giving speeches and laughing and sharing stories about John and Frenchie, and Stede feels like he needs to do that too. He has an important role in the wedding. “I’ll just say a few words and then we can head out. Go get some cake to bring up to the room.”

Ed grins at him, giving him a wink. “Hell yeah, will do.”

Stede watches for a moment as Ed bustles off, slipping through the crowd, before heading to John and Frenchie’s table. Frenchie is practically on John’s lap at this point, his legs tossed over John’s from his own chair as they watch the current speaker. Stede leans in so only John can hear, “Me and Ed are gonna head out a bit early, it’s a bit overwhelming.”

John glances at him with a reassuring smile and a nod. “Oh, that’s fine Stede. I know this is your first big Capitol function and it can be a lot.” He inclines his head to Frenchie. “We get sick of it all too honestly. If you wanna say anything I’ll hand you the mic next.”

The first person, some other media personality, finishes up their speech about Frenchie to polite applause and several laughs. Feeling immensely awkward, Stede sidles up to the front of the room, accepting the mic from them. 

He gives the guests a sheepish wave. “Hey, I’m sure you all recognize me, I’m Stede Bonnet.” He pauses for the applause and whoops that go around the room. “Thank you. I’m also John’s best man,” he says, giving John a quick point, as if there’s a single person here who doesn’t know who John is. “He actually told me if I won the Games, he wanted me to be his best man, and I really didn’t think he was serious at the time, but here I am, so.” There are a few chuckles. “And it’s one of the biggest honors I’ve ever received. Now, I’ll make this quick, but I just want to thank John for everything he’s done for me and Edward.” The guests fall silent as Stede’s tone grows more serious, and Stede focuses directly on John, speaking right to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend before, but you changed that; you made me feel safe and understood at a time when I was fearing for my life and unsure of how to categorize my feelings. You gave me a fighting chance where others would have done just the bare minimum, and you believed in me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for any of that, but what I can do is thank you, so…thank you.” He pauses to let his sentiments sink in, and they certainly seem to have. John is smiling at him, wiping a finger under his eyes carefully so as not to smudge his makeup. “Congratulations on your wedding. And your new fashion line. I wish you and Frenchie a long and happy life together.” 

Before he can even put the mic back down on its stand, he’s engulfed in a hug. He can feel John’s shaking shoulders around him and he hugs him back. “Thank you, Stede, love you, mate.”

Stede shakes his head, letting himself sink into one of the best hugs in his life. “Thank you for everything.” 

John pulls back, sniffing and dabbing at his eyes. “Fuck, man, I’m wearing mascara, you can’t do that to me.” They both laugh, before John gives him a gentle push to the side, toward where Ed is waiting near the entrance. “Now go on, go enjoy your night.”

Stede gives him another squeeze and heads toward Ed, tuning out the next speaker. Ed links their hands together and they lean into each other's shoulders as they head out of the reception area and into the lobby. When they reach the elevator bank, Ed turns suddenly and grasps Stede’s hand in both of his. “I missed you.”

Stede chuckles, though he knows exactly what Ed means. “I was barely away from you for 10 minutes. And you could see me the whole time.”

Ed pouts, pulling Stede in closer. “Yeah, but I always miss you. Mom says I’ve always been clingy.”

Stede hits the floor button on the elevator with his elbow, not wanting to turn away from Ed for a moment. “I like clingy. I miss you all the time too.”

Ding.

The doors slide open and before Stede can react, Ed backs him in against the elevator wall, managing to scan the room card in the process. Automatically, the doors shut and the elevator begins moving. Stede throws his arms around Ed’s neck as Ed licks into his mouth, the tang and sweetness of the orange cake still on his tongue. Stede digs his hands into Ed’s hair, kissing him back and arching into his hold. Much too soon, the elevator dings again, and the doors open on their floor. Ed pulls back, but not without Stede chasing him for one last kiss. 

“Sorry, I had to do that,” he says, a blush high on his cheeks.

Stede smiles and caresses his face. “Don’t ever apologize for that.”

They make their way to their room, holding each other’s hands and swinging their arms as they go, giggling together. Even though they’ve both survived the arena, they’re both adults at this point, they’ve visited each other and met each other’s parents, this feels like such a grown-up thing. Hotels aren’t really a thing in District 12—who would they even go to visit?—but he’s seen movies and read books about them, and he knows some districts are big enough to warrant having accommodation for travelers. But Stede never imagined he would be staying in one, and never in a million years with a boyfriend. It’s a novel experience, and as they arrive at their door, he and Ed exchange a giddy look before opening it. 

Their room is at the corner of the building, providing them with a 180 degree view of the landscape. Their bags were brought here when they arrived earlier that day, neatly stacked together against one wall. As they walk in, Stede realizes to say the room is opulent would be an understatement.

At this point, they’re pretty used to Capitol’s particular brand of extreme decadence, but it never fails to make Stede’s jaw drop whenever he sees something as innocuous as a hotel room look like this. All white sheets on the bed with marble floors and soft sheepskin rugs under their feet, a balcony that looks out over the mountains with the Capitol itself in the distance, and a luxurious bathroom with a deep clawfoot tub and rain shower. 

Ed groans in relief as he takes off his heels. “Can you get the harness please?” Ed asks, spinning so Stede can access the straps. Stede undoes them, and then zips down Ed’s dress, skimming a finger down Ed’s spine as he does so. Ed shivers before turning back around with a smirk and raised brow. Stede raises his own eyebrows right back at him. Ed chuckles, shaking his head, and then shucks the dress off, leaving him only in his boxer briefs. “Thanks, mate” he says with a wink before slipping into one of the white, fluffy robes that had been left on their bed and heads to the balcony.

Stede follows his lead, stripping out of the suit. While he thinks it’s beautiful and he absolutely loves it, it’s also extremely uncomfortable to have been in all day. He sighs as the heavy fabric falls to the ground, his skin exposed to the cooling evening air coming in through the balcony’s French doors. He gets into the robe, enjoying the softness against his skin, and joins Ed outside, bringing the makeup wipes and a hand mirror with him. “Beautiful night isn’t it?”

Ed looks up at him and smiles, taking the makeup wipes. “It is now.”

Stede snorts a laugh and sits next to him on the couch, tucking his feet underneath him and swinging an arm around Ed’s shoulder. “Sappy.”

“So what if I am?” He takes the wipes to his face, the mirror in his other hand, carefully removing the blush and eye shadow and foundation layered onto his skin. Within moments, his face returns to the one that Stede knows better than anything, that Stede loves more than anything, “Would much rather be sappy and annoying than unhappy, hm?” Ed pulls out a fresh wipe and beckons Stede to turn to face him, gently wiping it across his skin.

“You have a point there,” Stede admits.

Ed finishes cleaning Stede’s face with a peck to his cheek, tossing the wipes onto the ground. A silence washes over them for a good few minutes, where they just interlock hands and listen to the crickets, frogs, and muffled music from the reception downstairs. 

Stede leans his head on Ed’s shoulder, and in response, Ed kisses the crown of Stede’s head. “You okay?”

Stede sighs heavily. “Yeah, I just got a bit startled by something David said.”

“What did he say?”

Stede grimaces at the memory of it, at the confusing implications of it all. “Nigel Badminton came up, and David said something about him being threatened with poison berries and killing himself, essentially.”

Ed straightens up, turning to face him. “Holy shit. You serious?”

“Yeah, and it just made me think about what Lucius and Izzy said. I don’t know…” Stede meets Ed’s eyes, twisting on the couch to face him. “It’s all so scary. Like, what if they decide to do something to us? Just decide it’s better having us dead than putting up with us?”

Ed considers him for a moment, holding Stede tighter on the couch. “I don’t know what I’d do if they threatened you.”

“Neither do I.” Stede idly strokes his hand along Ed’s knee. “If they threatened you, I mean.”

Ed pulls him in, pressing a kiss to his temple. Stede can feel Ed’s lips turning up in a smile. “I think we just need to live like we could lose each other any minute.”

“The Games never really ends, does it?” 

The question hangs in the air for a moment, both of them letting it sink in and ruminate on the last few months. How their lives have gotten somehow even more stressful than they were just the year before. How they haven’t gotten a moment of privacy since they got out of that arena, constantly having to perform their lives for the cameras. How the threat of Capitol intervention constantly looms over them if their relationship doesn’t seem convincing enough. 

“Seems like that,” Ed finally says, his eyes downcast. 

“He also seemed like he was planning something,” Stede adds. “David, I mean.”

That makes Ed look back up at him. “Planning what?”

“I’m not sure. I just know he’s head gamemaker, so...” It hits him, in this moment, that there’s an added layer of complexity to this entire situation, especially where it concerns the head gamemaker. This year will be the 75th Hunger Games. And the third Quarter Quell. “Fuck, so that could mean anything with the Quarter Quell coming up.”

Ed hums thoughtfully, sounding not quite as convinced about the implications of that. And why would he be? Stede was the one who heard everything David said, who heard the cryptic way he was saying it. All Ed has to go on is Stede’s account. “Well, we’ll see,” he says.

They fall silent, sitting and swaying together a bit longer, letting the chill of the breeze bear against their robes. Stede lets his head fall back against Ed’s shoulder. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

Ed looks down at Stede, and Stede can see the same desire reflected in Ed’s eyes. I hope to have one like that with you someday.  

“Yeah, it was.”

Chapter Text

6 months after the 74th Hunger Games

The snow that falls on District 12 always seems to develop a distinct black sheen from the coal mines after a few days. It’s the way you can tell that a blizzard has come through or there’s been significant snowfall recently: a perfect, non-perturbed white blanket that covers everything in the area. It’s the kind of snow that covers 12 now, untouched by coal dust, but rife for destruction by the substance. 

Stede crouches next to the frozen lake behind his house, the snow around him new and untouched from last night’s storm. He’s been here for about two hours, watching the sunrise after he couldn’t sleep. The nightmares have been haunting him for months now, creeping in the shadows of his room where there’s nothing to distract him and nowhere to hide. He sees their faces everywhere, he feels their fresh blood on his hands when nothing is there, he hears their voices and screams of anguish in his ears every single night.

The only thing that saves him now are his and Ed’s nightly calls, his velvet soft voice soothing him to sleep and reminding him he’s okay, and Stede does the same for Ed. Reminding him that he did the right thing, that his mother is healthy and living life how she should now, and that they can both live lives of luxury like they deserve. 

The train will be here in a few hours, the train that will take Stede to District 1 for his and Ed’s monthly visit. He’s practically vibrating out of his skin to see him again, and his mother. Over the past few months, he’s gotten to know Liz Teach just as much as Ed. She’s an amazing woman, always excited to see Stede, and more eager to hug him and talk to him than his own parents ever have been. Stede has some gifts for both her and Ed this time around, some romance novels for Liz and a necklace for Ed that he had found in the Hob a week ago and thought it the perfect gift for him. He can feel the cold starting to get to him, his fingers starting to freeze at the tips and goosebumps causing shivers all throughout his body. He finally gets up and makes his way back to the house.

It’s quiet and empty, the way he had left it two hours ago. The maine coon cat he took in from the woods, Buttercup, jumps on the counter to get his chin scratches, and chirps at Stede’s touch. 

“Hey buddy, how’d you sleep?” 

He gets a deceptively high-pitched meow in answer. As if Buttercup is a gentle, innocent soul rather than a demon from the deepest pits of hell. Buttercup sits down and watches Stede as he crosses the kitchen.

His journal is right where he left it this morning, unable to formulate what he’d seen into words with it so fresh on his mind, on the counter next to the teapot where he starts his morning tea. His head is somewhat clearer now, and he finds that the entry is more easy to articulate, now that he’s had some fresh air and distance from the way he’d woken in a cold sweat.

11/6

I saw him again, this time in the corner of my room, bleeding and hanging by his whip. He swung there for a while before dropping to the ground with a thud I swear I could feel. I couldn’t move the whole time. I finally came back to my body and shot awake, sweating. This is the third time this week I’ve seen Jack, I don’t know what it means.

The dream journal has helped Stede understand how his post-Games brain works. Liz had suggested it, stating that she did it after her husband died and she went through a confused depression. The notebook is nearly halfway filled at this point, Stede only writing in it when he can remember his dreams, but it happens most nights at this point. 

The only time they don’t, really is when he’s with Ed. He sometimes wishes they could just say fuck it and move in together, but it’s just not feasible right now. Ed has his mom and people back in District 1, things he doesn’t want to leave behind yet, and while Stede may not have the same connections in District 12, it’s still home to him. Not to mention he and Ed are still getting to know each other. Their initial romance hadn’t left much room for that part of a relationship, and now it feels like they’re sometimes playing catch-up. Still, he misses Ed like a physical ache in his chest. They do talk every night, but seeing each other in person only twice a month is really not often enough.

This will be his fifth visit with Ed. It’s not the longest unfortunately (only a weekend), but he’s still so eager to see him and so unbelievably happy with how it’s been going. After he’d gotten home, after winning the Games, a part of him had wondered if it was somehow all just a dream. Or perhaps that Ed would get home and realize that he could do so much better than Stede. That their contact would fizzle out and eventually he would only see Ed at the Games the years they were both mentoring. But if anything, their feelings have only gotten stronger.

Stede had been worried, that first visit, that things would be awkward, now that they weren’t in the arena or the Capitol. But once they’d both gotten their own videophones and had figured out what times worked best with the time difference, they’d fallen into a pattern of nightly calls as easily as every other part of their relationship seemed to have happened. And a week or two after the Games, Ed let him know when his mother’s surgery would be, and that Stede was welcome to come to spend time with them during her recovery, at her request. Bubbling with nerves and excitement, Stede had immediately gotten in touch with the relevant people he needed to, and got the train to come first thing the next morning. 

It had been a strange sensation, riding the train by himself across the country. The last time he’d taken this trip, he’d been certain he was on his way to his death. He’d had no idea that he would actually find his life, or that he would be hurtling across the landscape to reunite with him not even a month later. 

-

Two Weeks After the 74th Hunger Games

Stede is practically jittery with nerves as the train pulls into the District 1 station. This will be his first time stepping foot in another district, his first time seeing Ed in his home, his first time meeting Ed’s mom. He’d dressed for the occasion, in a white linen button down and light blue slacks. He’d limited himself to two suitcases for the two week-long stay, a feat that he’s honestly proud of himself for. The books alone he’d wanted to bring to share with Ed’s mom had taken up so much space.

Stede avoids peeking his face out the window as the train slows. He doesn’t want his first sight of Ed to be through a fogged up window that he can barely see out of. When the train finally stops, Stede is already at the door, waiting for the light to signal that the door has unlocked and it’s safe to deboard. When it finally does, Stede sucks in several breaths before sliding open the door.

He’s immediately hit with a barrage of sound, shouts and cheers and clapping from the crowd that’s apparently assembled to greet him. He’s shocked by it all initially, at least until he catches sight of the camera crews. He hadn’t been warned of their presence at all, and he nearly shrinks back, immediately wanting to retreat back to the safety and quiet of the train.

But then he spots a familiar head of curls pushing its way through the cameras, and as soon as Stede’s eyes light on Ed’s face, everything else is gone. It’s a cliche he’s read a thousand times before in books, and he’d always rolled his eyes at it, but for a blissful stretch of time, it really does feel as though he and Ed are the only two people in the universe.

Ed’s face lights up when he sees Stede, and he races over, immediately pulling Stede into a tight hug. “Stede, fuck, I missed you so much,” he says, his voice so familiar, so soothing. Stede hadn’t realized until now just how much he had missed Ed’s voice in person, rather than over the slightly tinny sound of the videophone. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

All Stede can manage in return is a choked-up, “Ed,” before Ed pulls back, looking at Stede’s face with such reverence that it makes Stede nearly buckle. And then Ed’s hands are in his hair, and he’s pulling him in, their lips meeting for the first time in what feels like years. Stede’s vaguely aware of the cheers from the crowd ratcheting up several notches, but the majority of his focus is on the softness of Ed’s lips beneath his, that familiar give and take they had been cultivating before their separation. It all just seems to slot into place the way it should, and Stede wraps his arms around Ed’s neck, melting into him.

When they break apart, Stede can’t help clinging to Ed, resting their foreheads together. “Hi,” he says, embarrassingly breathless. “I missed you too.”

They have a brief moment of peace together like that before the cameras descend upon them, barraging them with questions: “Blackbeard, Stede, how does it feel to see each other again after a few weeks apart?” and “Stede, are you nervous to meet Blackbeard’s mother?” and “Blackbeard, how do you feel about Stede seeing the home you grew up in for the first time? Do you think he’ll see you differently when he sees what it was like growing up poor?”

That last one makes Ed’s smile drop and he turns to the cameras, his eyes flashing with anger. “Excuse me? The fu—”

“Ed,” Stede interrupts, tugging his arm, securing it around his own waist. He plasters on a smile, one that’s gotten him through countless boring functions back home. To the cameras, he says, “I think it’s pretty clear that we’ve missed each other, and we’d love to have some privacy while we catch up.”

“Sorry, kid,” one of the reporters says—the one in charge, it seems like. “We’ve got strict orders to document everything.”

Stede’s smile tightens. “Orders from who?”

“All the way from the top,” they say. “President Badminton wants the country to be able to celebrate your happiness with you.”

An icy chill washes over Stede, but he just keeps smiling, nodding. “Oh. How very thoughtful of him,” he says. Turning to Ed, he asks, “Shall we?”

Ed’s outright scowling at the cameras, but he nods to Stede. “Yeah. Mom’s at the hospital.” His expression softens again as he looks at Stede, as he remembers his mom waiting for them. “She’s really excited to meet you.”

“I’m excited to meet her too,” Stede says, and he really is, and nervous as well. But those nerves seem to pale in comparison to the worry that courses through him at the idea of President Badminton wanting their entire relationship to be recorded. Is he still convinced that Ed and Stede had been faking the whole time? Is he just waiting for one of them to slip up?

The journey to the hospital is a short one. Ed has a car now, and a driver. He explains that District 1 is big—much bigger than District 12—and that he used to travel mostly by public transportation or walking, but it’s so much faster now that he has access to his own vehicle. Despite the fact that Stede is in a brand new district for the first time, he can’t even take in the city itself. He just can’t make himself tear his eyes away from Ed. Despite seeing him every night so far, there’s something different about being in person, having Ed right there next to him, being able to reach out and hold his hand, touch his shoulder, his hair. 

Ed seems to be of a similar thought, if the way he’s staring right back at Stede is any indication. They’re sitting snugly together, sides pressed together from shoulder to ankle. Their hands are clasped between them, fingers intertwined in a way that Stede knows he’ll never tire of. 

Eventually, though, Stede’s thoughts drift back to the cameras. Just how much exactly of everything are they supposed to record. “Did you know about the cameras?” he asks, not accusatory, simply curious.

Ed scowls again at the mere mention of them. “No, they just fucking showed up today, a little before I left to meet you.” 

“Lovely,” Stede grumbles. “I finally get to see you outside of the Games, away from the Capitol, and the Capitol comes to us.” He sighs. “I suppose we should be grateful that we get to see each other at all.”

“Nah, fuck that,” Ed says. He untangles their fingers, instead slipping his arm around Stede’s shoulders to pull him somehow closer still. “We played their game, we won, we’re supposed to be fucking left alone now. It’s bullshit.”

Stede sighs again, letting his head fall against Ed’s. “Okay, yeah, I…I completely agree. It’s bullshit.”

Ed snickers. It’s amazing, how easy it still feels to be with Ed like this. It’s so comforting, so familiar. Stede wonders how he could have ever been nervous about seeing Ed again. 

Meeting his mother, on the other hand, is a whole different kind of nervous. 

There are somehow more camera crews when they arrive at the hospital, all gathered outside the front in a small swarm. Stede and Ed exchange grimaces at the sight as Ed’s driver parks the car. They pause before getting out, both of them taking in a preparatory breath. Despite their shouted questions, Ed doesn’t pause to answer any of them. He barrels through, Stede’s hand grasped firmly in his, until they’re inside the hospital, the automatic doors closing softly behind them with a gentle snick.  

“Fucking dicks,” Ed mutters to himself, and Stede gives his hand a squeeze. 

“Hi, Edward,” a voice calls from behind a large wooden counter. There’s a receptionist behind it, close to Stede’s parents’ age, with a round face and friendly smile. 

“Hey, Gloria,” Ed says. “Sorry about all that.” He gestures with his free hand to the assembled reporters outside, all pressing against the glass doors to try and get footage fo them. 

Gloria shrugs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. They’re not allowed in here anyway.” She glances down at the desk, scrolling through her tablet as they approach the counter. “Your mom’s still in surgery. You want help finding the waiting room?”

“Nah, I know where it is. Thanks though.” 

Gloria’s eyes flick over to Stede, and then down to their joined hands, her mouth forming into a smirk. “Welcome to District 1, Mr. Bonnet.”

Stede wrinkles his nose at the formality. “Just Stede is good. Thank you.”

Her smile softens and she waves them through. “Third floor. Give your mom my best, Blackbeard!” she calls as they make their way down the hall to the elevator bank. 

Ed makes a little noise of embarrassment, and Stede’s about to ask what that’s about, when the elevator doors open and Ed pushes him through, blindly hitting one of the buttons and pressing Stede up against the wall. “Ed!” is all Stede manages to get out before Ed’s lips are on his once again, and all thoughts fly from Stede’s head. All there is is Ed: his hands on Stede’s waist, his body pressing up against Stede’s, his hair soft beneath Stede’s fingers, his lips insistent but gentle. All at once Stede’s breath whooshes out of him and he’s certain he would have crumpled to the ground if it weren’t for his back against the wall and Ed holding him up.

When the elevator dings to signal their arrival, they part, both of them breathing heavily. Ed knocks his forehead against Stede’s and they share a breathless laugh. “Hi,” Stede whispers. God, how he’d missed Ed’s eyes, their rich brown a pool that Stede feels himself falling into. 

“Hi,” Ed says back. He brushes back Stede’s bangs to press a kiss to Stede’s forehead. “Can’t wait to get you alone later,” he says, and Stede feels a thrill run up his spine. “But first…” Ed pulls back, his eyes going tight with worry.

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” Stede reassures him. “What did you tell me? There’s only a 6% chance of something going wrong, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s 6% more than I’m comfortable with.” Ed sighs, backing away fully. Somehow, they’ve wound up on the correct floor. Ed presses the button to open the doors, which have long since closed again, the elevator waiting for its occupants to leave, and leads the way out and to the right. “The waiting room up here is pretty nice actually. We can wait to hear back from the surgeon here. Should only be like an hour longer, I think.”

“That’s fine. Gives us a chance to catch up properly.” 

Ed leads him into a large room dotted with comfortable-looking armchairs and couches. There’s a screen up on one wall, a muted reality show playing despite the fact that the room’s empty. “Here.” They cuddle up together on one of the couches, Ed tucking Stede into his side. It’s incredible, to sit like this again, after weeks of separation, no threat of death over their heads. 

They talk for a while as they wait, catching each other up on things they couldn’t cram into their nightly video calls. Ed shows Stede the progress he’s made on his snake tattoo and Stede can see the details much better in person. With Izzy’s help, they’ve gotten all the scale outlines finished, curling down Ed’s back and around his hip, then down his leg. It looks even better than Stede remembered from the arena. He was impressed then, but now it looks finished. They still have to do all of the detailing in the new sections, but it’s looking pretty much perfect.

With all Ed’s newfound free time, he’s also been able to draw more, and he gives Stede a tour of his sketchbook filled with portraits of people around his old apartment complex and the kids at the training center. As a mentor, he now has to make appearances, though Stede knows he doesn’t intend on making mentorship his entire career, like Izzy has. 

Stede carefully pages through the sketchbook, marvelling at the skill on display. “Ed, these are beautiful,” he murmurs. They truly are, somehow perfectly capturing the essence of each person. He traces the lines of a portrait of a young boy, perhaps 10 or 11, one of the trainees. Ed had been that young once, when he’d started his own training. It breaks Stede’s heart, thinking of the youth evident on the boys face and the stark difference between that and what he’s being trained to do: to fight, to kill, to survive. 

“Thanks.” Stede glances up at the strange note in Ed’s voice to see him smiling to himself in a devious sort of way. Stede raises his eyebrows in question. “I could draw you,” Ed suggests, trailing a finger down Stede’s jawline.

Stede practically snorts in laughter. Why would anyone want to draw him? “Me? Really?” he asks skeptically.

But Ed doesn’t laugh. “Yeah,” he says, completely serious. “Not like these though.”

Stede chuckles, certain that this is still some kind of game. “How would you draw me then?” he asks in challenge.

Without warning, Ed snatches the sketchbook back to his lap and whips out a new page, pulling a pen out of nowhere. “Sit still,” he instructs.

Stede immediately panics. “I didn’t think you were serious,” he says, shifting in his seat. “How do you want–”

“Literally any way, you’re perfect,” Ed says, and Stede flushes. He settles into position, his heart slamming in his chest as Ed locks eyes with him. There’s something new in Ed’s expression, a deep concentration and perception that Stede hasn’t seen before and that makes him feel like he’s being pulled apart, but not in a bad way. Stede keeps waiting for Ed to look away, to start drawing, but then realizes that he is already drawing. Ed’s hand frantically moves around the page, capturing what he sees without even looking down. It’s entirely too impressive, too hot, and despite himself, Stede can’t help giggling under the intense scrutiny.

Ed’s lips twitch before he scolds, “This is serious art business, you can’t laugh.”

“Oh, didn’t know it was so serious,” Stede remarks, fighting to keep his eyebrows in place, despite the instinct to raise them teasingly. “I should have more respect for a master like you.”

“Yeah, I’m renowned, gonna be in all kinds of fancy galleries.”

And Stede doesn’t doubt it. “Well, remind me to go to the opening of your next one. I would hate to miss it.”

Finally Ed deems it done, and looks down at the page, giggling to himself. He hands the page over to Stede, and there is his face, all of his features all over the place but captured nonetheless. It’s Stede’s new favorite drawing, and it hangs in pride of place in his kitchen.

The doctor comes in shortly after, and deems the surgery a success. Stede isn’t sure what exactly it was for, but heard him mention something about replacing her kidneys. They’re welcome to head into the recovery room to sit with her while the anesthesia wears off and she comes to. Stede feels his nerves coming back. This is going to be the first time he’s meeting her ever, period. He wants to make a good impression, to show that the people thinking their relationship is fake are wrong.

Ed leans over, taking Stede’s hand in his. “Hey, man, it’ll be fine. My mom’s the best, she’ll love you. I mean, she literally already can’t stop talking about you, and she hasn’t even met you yet.”

Stede squeezes Ed’s hand. “I guess I’m nervous about meeting her here, of all places.”

Ed leans in closer, making sure only Stede can hear, “At least here there’s no cameras, since the tabloids aren’t allowed in hospitals.”

That is true. Lord knows if they were, people all over the country would see how many injured and sick are in here just from the poor working conditions. He sucks in a deep breath and nods, and they make their way over to the recovery room she’s in. She’s still asleep, the doctor informs them, and she won’t be awake for another half hour most likely. 

He wishes he brought a book with him. His bags were taken to Ed’s home in Victor’s Village before he could even say anything. Ed’s mom is on the bed, tubes in her nose and IVs in her arm, but she looks significantly better already than what Stede saw of her on the replays of the Games. It’s clear where Ed gets his gorgeous looks from. His mother’s skin is the same golden tan as his, and her long black hair is parted into two braids on either side of her head. Stede’s certain that if she were awake, her eyes would be the same lovely shade of brown as Ed’s. 

He and Ed settle into the couch adjacent to the bed, next to a window overlooking District 1. 

Stede stares out the window at the world below them. District 1 is far more urban than District 12; being so close to the Capitol, dealing in luxury goods, and having won many more Hunger Games, they have far more money to spare for building it up. It’s starkly void of nature, as well.  District 12 is in the mountains (he learned in school they used to be called the Appalachias) and he loves being there amongst nature and trees and just all of it. But this…this makes him realize just how shitty a place 12 is. The streets here are pristine and clean, free of any kind of coal residue like the stuff that develops on streets of 12 after a particularly busy day in the mines. It all makes Stede feel strangely inadequate in comparison.

“I can hear you thinking.” Ed presses his nose against Stede’s cheek. 

“Oh, can you now?”

Ed shrugs. “I think I’m a good source on what Stede Bonnet looks like when he’s overthinking something.”

“I don’t know,” Stede sighs. “I guess I’m just thinking about how it is here compared to home. I love 12 and my home, but I mean, being here and seeing what I could have…”

“What, like you think it’s better here than 12?” Ed asks, raising his eyebrows skeptically.

“Of course it is!” Stede’s seen the footage of 12 compared to places like 1, and the difference is obvious. “You’ve seen what 12 looks like in just the reapings, depressing and gray.” 

Ed huffs out a laugh. “Stede, I don’t know if you realized this, but 1 is also a depressing and gray shithole.” He gestures out the window, at the buildings surrounding them, gray blocks packed in amongst white streets, not a single spot of green in view. “You go on all the time about the forests and mountains, I can only imagine having that here.”

“But everything just feels shinier and prettier here.”

“That doesn’t mean better, love. Just cause we’ve won more doesn’t mean we get special treatment. Only means the Capitol actually gives a shit if it looks nice here for the cameras.” He indicates the hospital around them, filled with people injured and sick from the working conditions. “People here are still starving, still dying from overwork. All of this is just a fucking fresh coat of paint on a building falling to pieces.”

Stede knows Ed’s right. He knows that despite how clean everything looks here, despite the better facilities–the presence of an actual hospital– that the people here are still suffering. But it’s still difficult to reconcile the shiny surroundings here with poverty. “I guess it’s a thing of seeing something you never have before. It all feels so new to me, you know? And that shit they said about you being ‘poor’...” He shakes his head. He doesn’t have any words for that. 

“I mean, I was.”

“Why would I care though? They act like I’m some elitist snob. I’m from fucking 12,” he laughs, picturing the house he grew up in, decaying and falling apart, about the goods his parents got shipped in from the Capitol, makeup and clothing and jewelry, but the way they still depended on illegal goods in the Hub and meat from people who went out hunting. “Not like I’m living in the lap of luxury.”

“I think they want to keep up the image that victors have this massively wealthy perfect life after they win, and you never had any problems because of it.”

Stede would be the first to admit that he’s been privileged in life. If he needed anything, literally anything, the Capitol could get it for him. He was lucky to get the best hormone therapy and gender affirming care back when he first came out (he has the fading scars under his chest to prove it), and as he sits here in Ed’s mother’s hospital room, he can’t help but feel an immense sense of guilt because of that. That he was able to get care so quickly thanks to his status, and meanwhile countless people just like Ed’s mom are dying of things that can be easily fixed with Capitol medicine. Ed had to volunteer just to afford this for god's sake. It’s not fair, to anyone. He shouldn’t have to feel guilty for fulfilling his needs and becoming the man he is today, but it still lies there in the back of his mind, festering like an old wound. 

He takes a deep breath, “So,” he pauses, remembering what the receptionist, Gloria, had called Ed. He nudges Ed’s shoulder, “Blackbeard, huh?”

Ed chuckles, ducking his head, but Stede can still see the blush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah, apparently that’s what they were calling me in the Districts during everything.” He shrugs, casually saying, “I kinda like it. It’s cool isn’t it?”

Stede grins, reaching up to tug lightly on Ed’s beard, now kept at a neat length. “Oh yeah, super cool.” He stretches his fingers up, through the soft bristles, caressing Ed’s cheek. “But I prefer Ed.”

There’s a sudden shuffle from the bed and they both turn to see Ed’s mom coming to, trying to sit up. Ed rushes to her side to help her raise up the head portion of the bed. “Hey, Mom, how you feeling?”

“In pain, but way better,” she says. She reaches up to caress his face, a smile spreading across her own, “I’m happy to see you again.”

“Well, told you there was nothing to worry about,” Ed says, his voice gravelly as he sniffs, rubbing his eyes. “But there’s someone here that I’d like you to meet.” He waves Stede over, and Stede sheepishly stands up and comes next to his side. He feels awkward, not sure how to act. He doesn’t even know how to act around his own mother, who had never been approachable, never affectionate, and he’s not sure what the protocol is for meeting your boyfriend’s mother.

Ed’s mom presses the button to bring her all the way up to sitting and she studies him, her eyes sweeping across his face. Her smile widens as she takes him in.

Ed slips a free hand around Stede’s waist. “Mom, this is Stede, my boyfriend from 12.”

He plasters his best nice to meet you how do you do smile on his face and holds out his hand to her. “Hi Ms. Teach, it’s so nice to meet you.”

She takes Stede’s hand in hers, shaking her head. “Oh please, call me Liz, you don’t need to do formalities. It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard and seen good things.” And without warning, she pulls him into a hug. Stede stiffens. This is a first, and extremely unexpected. He’s never had a hug from a parent feel so genuine. It feels amazing.

“Oh wow, thank you, Ms. T - Liz,” he says as she releases him, but she doesn’t let him go far. She instructs them to drag over the couch so he and Ed can sit by her bedside. As they settle back onto the cushions, he says, “Ed’s told me great things as well.”

She smirks and looks over at her son. “So he has, hasn’t he?”

“Mom, it was televised.”

“I know, I saw it, thanks for the ego boost by the way.” She focuses back on Stede. “So, tell me everything.”

Everything? About the Games? Their relationship? “About what?”

“Yourself! I wanna know what the boy dating my son is like. The cameras only show so much.”

Stede has never had an adult take such interest in him. She watches him and listens to him with genuine interest as he talks about what he likes to do, the books he likes to read, the plans he’s trying to make to help his community with some of his winnings. She acts like what he imagines a parent should be like, someone that takes interest in their child and what they like. 

When he talks about the meadow and wildflowers that come in the summer, she sighs wistfully as she says, “I’d love to see that. I’ve only ever been in the city, and maybe you’ve noticed, but there isn’t a whole lot of nature here. The forest sounds beautiful, and to see all the animals and the plants out in their element, rather than in the zoo or arboretum… That’s always been a dream of mine.”

Stede smiles at the obvious longing on her face. “I hope you can come visit. I’d love to show you everything.” 

The entire time, Ed watches them with an entirely wholesome, happy smile. He laughs and talks with them, and joins in on the conversation as they get to know each other. Stede honestly doesn’t know why he was worried. Ed was right, of course: Liz is wonderful.

“I have to thank you,” Liz says eventually, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Thank me?” Stede asks, startled. “For what?”

“For saving my son,” she says. She pulls Ed down to kiss his cheek, ignoring Ed’s embarrassed protests, and cards her fingers through his hair. “And I don’t just mean saving him from the infection, or from the other tributes.” She looks back at Ed, a sad look in her eyes. “For giving him something to live for. Something to fight for.”

“Mom, I–”

“I know, sweetie,” she says, patting his shoulder. “You went there for me, and you were willing to sacrifice yourself for me. But all I’ve ever wanted for you is someone to love, and someone who loves you back, and a future, and…” She looks back at Stede. “Here he is. Your future.”

Stede flushes. “Oh, well, that’s…” he stammers. He doesn’t want to presume to be Ed’s entire future, even if he wants Ed to be his. But then Ed looks at him with such affection, such undeniable and open love, that Stede’s brain nearly shuts down.

“Yeah,” Ed says softly. He reaches over and takes Stede’s hand. “He is.” 

-

6 months after the 74th Hunger Games

Stede’s brought out of the thought by the high pitched whistle of the tea kettle on the stove, and Buttercup yelping and jumping off the counter and running back upstairs. As he’s pouring his tea, a flash of yellow catches his eye. A yellow he’s certain wasn’t there on the dining room table before. In the center of the table, in the glass vase where his wildflower cuttings were in the summer, there is a bouquet of bright yellow dandelions. 

He slowly plods towards it, abandoning the teacup on the kitchen island. He picks one out of the vase. He didn’t put them here. How did they even get here? It’s November, there’s no way… His train of thought crashes to a halt as he sees three peacekeepers in the doorway. 

“Mr. Bonnet,” the one in the middle says in a deep, commanding voice, “you’re wanted in the living room.”

Stede can feel his hands shaking. He shoves the dandelion deep in his pocket. There’s an icy chill in the living room, like someone had left the door or a window open. Stede turns the corner, and there, standing before the mantle and examining photos of Ed, Liz, Jackie, and the other friends he’s made in the last 6 months, is President Badminton. 

His imposing yet age-worn frame is familiar and terrifying. Stede knows that what he and Ed did royally pissed off the Capitol, but he never imagined it would lead to this. That the president would be standing in his living room, unannounced.

“Ah, there you are.” In a mockinly friendly tone, he says, “Sorry for not announcing our presence, but you were out and we didn’t want to disturb you.”

Stede stands there, stock still, his mind racing. Is he about to be arrested for something? Taken in for questioning? He has no idea what they could ever say was the reason for that, if so. Is…fuck, is he about to be killed? “President Badminton, what an honor.”

Badminton’s lips curve into something approximating a smile, though a cold one. “Please, come sit.” He gestures to one of the armchairs in the room. “I’d like to discuss the matter of yours and Edward Teach’s relationship.”

“I would rather stand, if you don’t mind,” Stede says, and Badminton nods, as if Stede has any power to make his own decisions in this interaction at all. He keeps his distance from Badminton, like one avoids a venomous snake. “What about mine and Edward’s relationship needs to be discussed?”

“Now I’m sure you don’t know about this,” Badminton begins, “but your little stunt did not go over well in the Districts. People saw it as…” He pauses, turning back to the photos. “As an act against the Capitol itself.” Stede says nothing, his heart racing, taking in the weight of the situation. Badminton picks up one of the frames, frowning at the picture. “There are even rumors of an uprising against the powerful system we’ve created.”

Stede’s throat tightens, his fingers curling at his sides. “I’m not sure how a few berries could take down such a powerful system, sir.”

“Perhaps it will give you some idea to know that my dear twin brother did not, in fact, succumb to illness.” He draws a finger across the glass covering the picture. “Someone had to pay for letting that entire fiasco happen, and that responsibility fell on him. All because of you.”

Stede’s stomach feels lodged in his throat. What he had suspected since the closing ceremony, what David Jenkins had all but confirmed, was true. Chauncey Badminton had killed his own brother. Because of him. Because he dared to step out of the bounds of the Games.

“That’s right,” Badminton hisses, turned towards him, his eyes narrowed in hatred. “Your little stunt caused the death of one of the finest gamemakers Panem has ever seen, and that’s not all. Do you have any idea the ramifications of your own pathetic actions? The things you’ve destroyed?” He fully turns to Stede, advancing slowly. “Countless civilians, long-standing peace in the districts, the sanctity of the Hunger Games, your father’s reputation, my dear brother… You even brought one of our finest career tributes to ruin.” He leans in, his voice lowered, eyes spewing loathing. “You defile beautiful things.”

The words hit him like a dagger to the gut. There’s a part of him that knows that’s not true. That all of those things, revolution, how people feel about the Games, all of that is beyond the scope of his influence. This system has been crumbling for years. But then again, Stede thinks that there is some truth there. Nigel Badminton would still be alive if he hadn’t held out those berries to Ed. And Ed… He remembers the Ed he saw in training, the expert at hand-to-hand combat and swordfighting, the tough, scary career, and now… Now he’s soft and sweet and…and…he’s become like Stede. Ed had been such a promising tribute, and because of Stede, because he was trying to protect Stede, he nearly died from infection. He went against the other careers. He…he didn’t kill a single person in the arena. And while Stede is proud of him for that, is haunted by the lives he took, he knows that to the rest of the country, a career who doesn’t kill is worthless.

He tries to bite back the tears. Badminton may be spot on in his assessment, but Stede can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing Stede agrees. “And so what if I do? Why come here to remind me?”

Badminton returns to his examination of the picture in his hands. He approaches the mantle again, setting it down carefully, turned slightly so that Stede can see it. He knows it well. It’s from his last visit to District 1, a picture of the three of them, him, Ed, and Liz. “His mother is a wonderful woman, isn’t she?” he comments, seemingly out of the blue. “I haven’t gotten to meet her, but I’ve seen all your visits to District 1 and Edward’s visits here.” He reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling something out. “You two were very convincing. But not convincing enough for me.”

Stede’s heart is pounding so loudly he wouldn’t be surprised if Badminton can hear it. “What are you implying?”

“That if you two want to play boyfriends—”

“We’re not playing,” Stede interjects. If Badminton hasn’t been convinced by now, when everyone else finds them so disgustingly together, he’s sure that just saying the words like this won’t convince him, but he won’t just stand around and let Badminton disclaim their love. “We love each other.”

Badminton turns back to him, eyebrow raised mockingly. “Oh you are? Then why do you hesitate in front of the cameras?” He pulls out a hologram screen and plays a clip of the last time he and Ed saw each other, three weeks ago. Stede looks visibly distressed and uncomfortable next to Ed as they walk down the riverfront in 1, each of them appearing stiff as they hold hands. Stede remembers that visit well. He felt particularly paranoid and anxious after a bout of nightmares where Ed was killed in front of him. He knew he wasn’t presenting well in front of the cameras, but he couldn’t shake the images of Ed bleeding out in front of him, or dying from nightlock poisoning, or being ravaged by mutts. 

Chauncey pauses it on Stede looking into the camera, his eyes distant, the corners of his mouth turning down in the beginnings of a frown. “If you can’t act like a happy couple in front of the cameras and tell the Districts that you are grateful to the Capitol for giving you both this opportunity, I can take all of this away from you.” He sets the screen on the mantle, next to the picture of him, Ed, and Liz. “There is no one I can’t touch.” In front of the picture, he sets what he had pulled from his pocket earlier. A black rose. 

Stede tracks the rose up to the picture, up to Liz’s smiling face. She’s been so good to him, from the first moment they met, even though she was still recovering from surgery. And she’s been healthy and energetic and, according to Ed, she’s feeling better than she has in years. Stede can’t be the reason all of that gets taken away. “Fine,” he says. He drops his gaze to the floor. “I’ll do it.”

Badminton take a step toward him. “You’ll do what?”

“I’ll convince them,” Stede says. He can do it. He’s done it before, he’d done it back during the Games, when he hadn’t known what his feelings were. He was convincing enough for a sponsor to send something in to help Ed, something that probably cost more than this house was worth.

“No.” Badminton steps closer again, and Stede looks up sharply. “Don’t convince them. Convince me.” He holds Stede’s gaze for a moment before stepping past him with a dismissive, “I look forward to seeing you two on the Victory Tour. Have a nice visit to 1.” 

He leaves the room, the Peacekeepers immediately flanking him, and a whoosh of cold air wafts through the house. Stede stands in the living room, speechless, his heart thundering in his chest. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears tears falling down his face begin to freeze. He never got the fireplace going. It’s freezing in the house, but he can’t be bothered to go start it now.

The house feels too big now, too empty and cavernous. What he wouldn’t give to have Ed here. To hold him and curl into his chest and smell him and know he’s safe. But now that’s not even guaranteed. The fragile safety that they’ve been clinging to has vanished, if it was ever even there. They’re all in danger now. 

Ed doesn’t deserve someone like Stede. Stede’s always known that in their relationship, he was the one benefiting the most from it. He’s only dragged Ed down since the beginning. Forcing Ed to help him learn some basic combat skills, rather than allowing Ed to train on his own. Diverting Ed’s focus from keeping himself safe, to trying to protect Stede. And now putting him and his mother in danger, after everything they’ve been through together. Ed doesn’t deserve any of this.

Badminton’s words echo around Stede’s head. Destroy. Defile. Ruin. Stede isn’t even…even human anymore. He’s a monster. He’s a beast that destroys everything he comes into contact with. He ruined the Games, his father’s reputation, Edward… 

With a painful sob, he sinks to the ground, curling into a ball on the floor and crying out. This can’t be happening. He’s going to wake up and it will be another nightmare he can write down in the journal and discuss with Jackie on the train ride over to Ed’s place. He squeezes his eyes shut, gripping the hair at his temples, willing himself to wake up. It works, sometimes, if he realizes he’s dreaming, to force himself awake like this, but this time nothing happens. There’s a sharp pain on his hairline as he realizes he’s pulling too hard, and the pain only brings more despair. Despite his attempts, he’s awake. 

He lies curled up on the ground for what seems like an endless amount of time. It’s long enough that his legs go numb and his spot on the floor is wet from tears.

It’s so long that he hears a knock at the door and for a moment Stede jolts, terrified that they’ve just come back. They’ve decided he’s too big a risk, and they’re just gonna kill him there and then. He feels himself trembling, frozen, unable to move from his spot on the floor. 

“Stede?” A wave of relief hits him. It’s just Jackie. “Stede, sweetheart, the train’s here.” She’s here to pick him up, but, fuck, he can’t go now. It’s too dangerous to leave now, he needs… He needs time to figure out what he’s going to do, to somehow make their relationship more believable than it already is, but he can’t imagine how. They’re already in love, and every single person that’s seen them together has remarked about how adorable they are together. He needs some time, he just… he just can’t.

He scrambles to his feet and races through the kitchen to foyer to lock the front door. “I can’t go, Jackie,” he calls, hoping that his croaky voice doesn’t give anything away.

“What?” She tries to open the door but the lock holds. “Stede, are you okay?”

He presses up against the door, hanging his head. “I’m fine, I just… I just can’t go.”

There’s a brief pause before she continues with a hint of frustration in her voice, “Stede we’ve had this planned—”

His voice shakes as he snaps, “I’m not going! Just…” He takes a breath. “Just tell Ed something came up. I’m sorry. I don’t feel well.”

She hesitates a moment, and Stede can tell she’s thinking over what she’s going to say next. “Do you need something? You wanna talk?”

“No, I just…” He needs her to leave, so he can figure this out. Figure out how to protect Ed. How to protect all the people he loves. “I need to be alone. I’m sorry.”

He can hear her acrylic tapping against the door as she clearly tries to figure out what to do. Finally, she says, “Okay. I’ll tell Edward you’re not feeling well.” She sighs. “Please let me know if you need anything. I care about you, you know.”

She almost certainly means for that to be comforting, but the sentiment just makes a fresh wave of tears spill down his cheeks. If she cares about him, that means she’s in danger too, if he can’t get his act together. There…there are just so many people who he’ll hurt if he fucks this up. “I will, thank you.”

He hears her feet shuffle, unsure if she should leave. And then finally her footsteps start, heels clicking on the brick walkway, eventually getting quieter and quieter. 

Stede stands there in the foyer, his head against the door and hands shaking. He can’t go, at least not now. He knows Ed will be worried and disappointed, but this is better than him putting Ed and Liz in danger. He slides down to the floor against the door and looks up, his eyes landing on the photo of them that hangs in the kitchen, taken after they won the Games. They’re gazing into each others eyes, the gold tiaras on their heads, dressed up in each other’s colors. It all felt so easy then. Yes, they knew that Badminton was skeptical about their relationship, but they didn’t really have to worry back then. They were in love, and together, and anyone who didn’t believe it was sure to eventually see that the love between them was real. What he would give to be back there, living in the little piece of heaven they had in that room in the Capitol, where they could spend every night together and hold each other and feel safe.

He eventually finds his way back into the living room and curls into the thick crocheted blanket on the couch. His chest feels tight and his eyes burn with tears. He hears the jingle of Buttercup's collar bob down the stairs and up to him. The cat finds one of Stede’s hands and nuzzles into it, pressing his head into the touch. Stede brings the cat to rest next to him, carding through his thick fluffy orange hair, and lets himself cry. A real cry that wracks his entire body, coming out from deep within him. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays there crying and replaying Badminton’s entire speech back to himself. He’s vaguely aware of it getting dark, of Buttercup leaving at some point. It’s long, long enough for the sun to come up, his stomach to feel painfully empty. He hears a distant ringing, over and over, that he thinks at first is just the devastation he’s feeling, so strong that it’s manifested into a ringing in his ears. But it’s just the phone, and it stops, eventually. He falls asleep eventually, and when he wakes up, dawn is just cresting once again, lightening up his house. He slept through the entire day. 

It takes him a moment to understand what woke him up, but then it happens again. Another knock at the door.

“Stede? It’s me.”

Ed.

Chapter Text

Stede’s late. He’s never late. The trains operate on a strict schedule and he’s always here at 10 am sharp. Ed’s been at the train station for half an hour waiting, and is starting to worry that Stede isn’t coming at all, when he finally hears the train. His heart picks up and he has to shove his hands into his pockets to keep them still.

He’s ready to fully pounce on Stede with hugs and kisses and tell him about what’s been happening in the past month, but when he sees Jackie’s face in the window, downcast and sullen, his stomach drops. The train finally grinds to a halt and it’s only Jackie who steps off. Ed keeps watching, waiting, hoping that Stede will step off too, that he’s just running back to his room to grab something, or was in the bathroom, or—

He’s mindful of the cameras pointed at him, and he tries not to react to the thin line of Jackie’s mouth. “Where is he?” he asks as she approaches.

She takes a deep breath, glancing at the cameras as well, clearly unhappy with the news she has to deliver. “He isn’t feeling well. He says he’s sorry that he couldn’t make the trip.”

What? Why didn’t Stede tell him? Why didn’t he call? He could have called last night, let Ed know not to expect him. Did something happen? He needs to know, and he needs to know now.

Without hesitation, he strides forward, taking Jackie’s arm and trying to pull her back to the train. “Take me there.”

Jackie stumbles forward with the unexpected force of Ed’s pull. “What?”

“You heard me, take me to him.”

“Ed, stop.” She yanks her arm free. “I don’t think—”

Ed stops, spinning around. He knows he probably looks insane, his eyes wide and panicked, hair a mess from the way he kept running his hands through it while waiting for the train. “Please, Jackie,” he says desperately.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head, and finally acquiesces, “Fine, get your shit together. I’ll hold the train for you. We’ll leave tonight at 8.”

Ed nods, already making his way off the platform. “Thank you!” he calls back. He ignores the calls from the camera crews, all clamoring to know where Stede is, why he hasn’t shown up, if they’re fighting, if they’ve broken up.

As soon as Ed gets home, he immediately heads to the little side room where he and his mom have set up the videophone. He hits Stede’s contact, craving Stede’s usual chirpy greeting, desperate to know if he’s okay. This is all probably just a misunderstanding. Stede just…has a bit of a cold, and didn’t feel up to traveling. And maybe he took something to help him sleep, and forgot to call Ed, which is good, actually. If he’s sick, he needs his rest, and Ed knows him well enough by now to know that he tends to pretend he’s feeling better than he actually is and neglects to take care of himself. When Stede doesn’t answer, Ed tries to stay calm, to remind himself that Stede’s probably just resting. 

He grabs the portable receiver and takes it to his room and continues to try and call him as he packs his bag, and…nothing. Now he’s panicking. Even the times before, when Stede’s caught some minor sickness or is having bad cramps, he still answers Ed’s calls. Or at least sends a message telling him he doesn’t want to talk that day. There’s no way he’s sleeping through all of these calls. With this suddenly wildly uncharacteristic behavior, plus what Lucius and Izzy and the new head gamemaker have told them about how the Capitol felt about them, it’s all making him worry.

He’s stuffing a few t-shirts into his bag when he hears a hesitant knock at the door. He glances up to see his mom watching him with worried eyes. “I thought Stede was coming here?” she asks through the doorway. “Why’re you packing?”

“Stede isn’t feeling well, apparently. I’m going to 12 to see him.”

“Did he say what was wrong?”

Ed shakes his head, pointing at the receiver. “I haven’t been able to reach him. Jackie told me.” He grabs his sketchbook and shoves it in the bag. “Just said he wasn’t feeling well.”

She comes into the room, and gently pries his hands away from the bag that he’s trying to close, despite it clearly being too full. “Here, just take a seat, sweetie. Take a few breaths. Calm down.” She upends the bag and starts refolding his clothes to pack them more neatly, rather than trying to shove them all in in a messy bundle like he was doing. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Ed’s already trying Stede again, hunched over the phone. He’s really starting to hate the endless ringing sound. “No, Mom, it’ll just be a quick thing,” he says. The call goes unanswered again and he nearly throws it against the wall in frustration before falling onto his back and rubbing his hands over his face.

“Sweetie…” The bed dips and he feels her hand on his knee. 

He drops his hands to his side. “What if something happened to him?” he asks. He stares up at the ceiling, the gorgeous molding that Stede helped him pick out, a golden swoop of lines against the dark wood backdrop. 

“Like what?” she asks, her voice soft and empathetic. He shrugs. “I think if something were really wrong, Jackie would have told you. She doesn’t beat around the bush really, does she?” And he shakes his head, but the thought is still there. What if…? What if something is really wrong, and Jackie just doesn’t know? It would be just like Stede to pretend that everything’s fine, to give Jackie the excuse of being sick, and to just suffer on his own. “Still, it is odd that you can’t reach him,” Mom says. “It’s not like him to at least send a message.

“I know, that’s why I’m going.” He blinks back worried tears. He hates how small his voice is as he admits, “I’m scared.”

“I know.” Her hand leaves his knee, only to come to rest on the back of Ed’s hand. He flips it over to accept her familiar, comforting squeeze.

They sit together in silence for a moment before Ed pushes himself up, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. “I should get going.”

“Okay, just…” She pulls him into a crushing hug. “Be careful?” She always worries for him when he leaves now, and after the Games, Ed doesn’t blame her. The last time her son left the district on his own, he almost didn’t come back alive.

He buries his face in her shoulder, the kiss she presses to the side of his head so familiar and so comforting. “I always am.”

She helps him pack the last few things, and they try to call Stede one last time. Again, there’s no answer. They exchange worried glances and then Mom is ushering him out of his room. He heads down the stairs, with his duffle bag bouncing down each step right behind him. Their house is significantly bigger than their apartment, and while they’ve been slowly filling it up with new furniture and decor, with Stede’s help, it’s still quite empty. The lack of furniture and rugs makes the sound echo through the halls.

Mom stands in the doorway, as he heads onto the porch where Jackie and Fang, who had arrived earlier in the day, are waiting for him. “Edward?”

He stops, and she pulls him into another hug, punctuated with a kiss to his forehead and temple. “I love you, darling. Let me know how he is, okay?”

“I will, Mom. Love you, too.”

-

Ed’s no stranger to nighttime train rides to 12 at this point. He does this trip every few weeks, but he’s never felt as nervous as he is now. The plains and forests and stretches of farmland that make up Districts 9, 3, and the sliver of 6 they travel through seem to fly by endlessly. Every hour now feels like a lifetime, more time that he isn’t by Stede’s side to make sure he’s okay. He tells Ed everything, he calls when he’s even a little bit sad, or if they run out of his favorite marmalade in the Hob, or, hell, if he even gets so much as a scratch when he’s out in the woods, so why the radio silence now? 

The only thing he can do right now is sleep. Jackie and Fang are talking in quiet voices and exchanging suspicious looks at each other, and worried ones at him, that suggest something has happened. He quickly retires to his room and goes straight to his bed, watching the trees whiz by, trying to bring up happy memories to make him feel a little bit better about his situation.

He imagines himself back in Stede’s arms where he longs to be always. He feels like the only times he’s really happy are when he’s with Stede now. He loves his mother, loves spending time with her, is so happy that her recovery is going so well, but when Stede isn’t there, he misses him with a constant, physical ache. He barely remembers who he was before Stede. Maybe he should examine that at some point, but why should he question what makes him happy? Nothing has ever made him feel happier than he feels now.

-

1 month after the 74th Hunger Games

Ed’s mom has to practically be wrenched off of him before he gets on the train to District 12, her expression just as worried no matter how many times he assures her that he’ll be fine, that he’ll see her soon, that he’ll call when he arrives. Meanwhile all Ed can think about is how desperate he is to see Stede again, to wrap him up in his arms and kiss him breathless and just breath him in. 

To his dismay, and not at all to his surprise, there’s press everywhere, documenting his first trip to 12. They’re there at his house that evening when he leaves, they follow him to the train station, and they’re here in 12 this morning as he arrives at the station. He supposes they must be different crews, the ones here already waiting for him, but they might as well be one big amorphous blob for how little he pays attention to them.

The one solace in all of this is Stede waiting for him on the platform, practically radiating his own light like the sun with a smile so wide it could blind someone. He nearly tackles Ed as he gets off the train, peppering his face and top of his head with kisses.

“God, I missed you so much!” 

“I missed you too, love.” Ed can barely move for the way Stede is clinging to him, and it’s a good minute before he releases Ed.

“Now, I have our whole week planned out and written down, and can show you at home.” He leans in closer to whisper, “The cameras should leave in about three hours, they can’t stand to be in 12 for very long.” Ed isn’t too sure what Stede means by that. He’s seen 12 during the reapings, and he knows it’s one of the poorest districts in the country, but it can’t be that bad. “But until then, we just have to put on a good show for them.” He lightly plants a kiss on Ed’s cheek, and turns to the cameras. 

Ed knows his smile and kisses are genuine, but he’s good at working the cameras too. He thinks it might be Stede’s excitement to show him his home and things he likes. Stede’s been hyping up the meadow just beyond the fence line that’s supposed to barricade off District 12, the Hob, and several of the shops, as well as the new cat he found wandering by his house. 

He’d informed Ed about his new pet one night during a call, exclaiming, “He’s a gorgeous longhair ginger cat, I left out some tuna for him and he came right in the house!” He’d even hunted the thing down to introduce him to Ed over the call, and Ed had to admit, he was cute, even with the squashed face and the look of pure evil in his eyes.

As soon as they get off the platform and out of the publicized areas of 12, Ed sees exactly why the camera crews are eager to get out. The Capitol generally doesn’t show anything beyond the Justice Building and main squares of the districts, and he hadn’t realized until now that that was on purpose. Unless a District wins and wins a lot, and has lots of living victors like 1 has, there’s no reason for cameras to be present in a place like 12. So for the first time, Ed sees… everything. Everything the Capitol wants to hide, everything beyond the gaunt gray faces with a fine layer of coal dust all over them. Everything they don’t show in the reapings. It’s never looked like a pleasant place to Ed, but being here in person, it’s like something out of a nightmare. Stede’s telling him about his favorite places to go in town for fresh baked goods and butcher shops with fresh venison and squirrel, a little tailor shop that makes the cutest clothes, and Ed tries to pay attention, he really does. But all Ed can focus on are the starving elderly and children that line the outskirts of the streets, boys as young as 12 with missing fingers heading down into the mines, crumbling buildings and ruins of what might’ve been a beautiful district however many years ago. The entire place just emits a hopelessness that permeates the air like a thick dense fog.

Overall, the shock that registers on Ed’s face causes a lot of footage to be unusable, and it’s noticeable in the replay they show on Lucius’ show that night. 

District 12’s Victor’s Village is like every Victor’s Village in every District. All of them are exactly the same, barring how many people live there. District 12’s obviously is the most empty, with only three people living there in the past 24 years. It’s jarring to Ed at first. Since moving to 1’s village, he’s used to a constant hum of activity around the neighborhood with victors enjoying their homes, out walking their dogs, their children playing outside. But here it’s empty and void of any life whatsoever, only two of its 12 mini-mansions occupied. It’s the least populated Village just behind District 8, which only has four victors and their families living in it.

And the lack of occupancy shows in the neighborhood. Where 1’s Victor’s Village is neat, well-taken care of, landscaped with beautiful flowers and plants, 12’s almost seems to be crumbling. It’s clear that it’s been neglected for the entirety of its existence. Almost 75 years with only three victors to show for it has obviously taken a toll.

Stede leads Ed through the main gates like he’s welcoming him to some sort of dreamland, which he is most certainly playing up for the cameras, but it’s just so Stede that he can’t help but laugh at all his dramatic flourishes, even despite the dreary surroundings. “And here we are, in the District 12 Victor’s Village.” He pauses, turning with his arms wide, grinning at Ed. “Take it in. This… is sacred ground.” There’s a beat of silence before he scrunches his face. “You’ll get used to the smell.”

Ed dips his head laughing. “Never seen anything like it, mate, not like I don’t live in basically the same place.”

“Well that’s 1. It’s clearly different here.” He points out the trees with large flowering blossoms all around them. “We have these beautiful magnolias, and you have cherry blossoms in 1.”

Ed nods solemnly. “You’re right, the magnolias really do make it seem like a different planet.”

Stede has lived here his entire life, but shows off his Victor mansion like he’s never experienced such luxury before in his life. Part of that, Ed thinks, must be because of him finally being away from living under his parent’s roof. He has this space all to himself to indulge in everything he loves, everything his father refused to allow him, and Ed feels his heart swell with affection seeing Stede so animated about this place. 

“It was this dreadful shade of beige throughout the whole place,” Stede is saying as he leads Ed, and the camera crew, into the living room. “Made me feel like I was about to lose my mind. So I picked this lovely shade of teal that practically glitters when the sun comes in.”

The paint is light, not an intense shade of teal like Ed is used to on the upholstering on Capitol furniture, but almost a light seafoam. Like how he imagines the ocean that District 4 sits on to look. “It’s incredible, love.” 

A fluffy mass of orange fur chirps before Ed feels something butting against his leg. He leans down to pet its head and it immediately lets out a rumble of a pur. “You must be Buttercup.” The cat flops on his back for more scratches on his soft tummy.

Stede beams up at Ed. “He already likes you!” He squats down to scratch under Buttercup’s chin. “He must recognize your scent from the blanket.” 

“Yeah, bud,” Ed says down to the cat, “that’s me you’ve been smelling.”

Ed can see the blanket out of the corner of his eye on the couch, now covered in a hoard of orange cat hair. It’s a warm gray crocheted thing Ed’s mom had made furiously quickly in time for Stede’s first visit, that she gifted him on his last night of the trip. Stede’s been practically living in it ever since. Every time they call before bed, Stede is wrapped in it, no matter how hot it must be, hugging it close to his body.

“You’re going to have to top this thing up,” Stede says. He reaches for the blanket and tosses it over Ed’s head. “I need you to fill it up with all your Ed-smell for when you leave. It’s starting to fade.”

He fights his way out of the blanket. “My Ed-smell?” he asks when his head finally pokes free. 

“Mmhmm.” Stede gathers it into his arms and sticks his nose in it, inhaling deeply. “Smells like you. See?” And without warning, he shoves it back into Ed’s face. 

“Stede!”

“Smell it!”

“No!”

A quick tussle ensues, in which Ed tries to free his face, only succeeding in tangling himself further in the blanket. Stede wrestles him to the ground. “Get in a nice big inhale of your Ed-smell, darling,” Stede says, his voice sickeningly simpering. 

Ed finally relents, going limp and sucking in a breath. “Smlslku,” he manages, his voice completely muffled by the blanket. 

“What’s that?” Stede asks, pulling the blanket down.

“Smells like you,” Ed says with a grin. “And like cat.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” Stede says with a sigh. “It’s supposed to smell like you so I can feel like you’re still here, even if you’re not.”

Ed sits up, his smile softening. “Well, in that case I’ll make sure to get my stink all over it for you.”

In the course of their play-fight, Buttercup had made his escape to curl up on the overstuffed leather armchair in the corner, and Ed had almost completely forgotten about the presence of the cameras. They make themselves known now, though. They get their last shots of them looking like a happy couple and deem themselves satisfied until dinner with Stede’s parents tonight, and leave quickly. 

Stede watches them, tracking their movements out the door and making sure they’re fully gone until he visibly relaxes. “Fuck me, I thought they’d never leave.”

“Same, but I have to say, love, 10 out of 10 performance, loved all your little embellishments.” Ed emphasizes with his hands and chuckles. “Lucius is gonna fucking love all your quips.”

Stede leans in and finally kisses Ed properly before pulling back with a smile. “Thank you. I really have missed you. I’d never embellish that.”

Ed can’t help but kiss him again. “I know. I missed you, you have no fucking idea how much. And I’m excited to see this list you have for me.”

His face lights up, nearly blinding Ed. “Right!” He leads Ed back to the kitchen. Amongst all the fresh cooking ingredients and thick cookbooks, there’s an open journal. “So it’s mostly camera stuff, to remind me, but I do want to show you something. Out past the barrier.”

“Damn, how rebellious of you,” Ed teases, though he knows very well how much time Stede spends outside of his district.

“Oh hardly. I’m gonna let you in on a little district secret, one that all the hunters know,” he says, leaning in and lowering his voice. “The fence here is never electrified. Well, except during the reaping.”

“Still, if you got caught, that’s some serious jail time,” Ed says with no worry in his voice. Honestly, this whole thing is more attractive than anything. He closes in on Stede up against the cupboards, bracketing Stede with his arms on the counter on either side of him. “Big bad District 12 boy corrupting sweet precious District 1 boy by taking him to his little secret hideout, out in the forest. Out where anything could happen.”

Stede snorts, but his cheeks betray his real reaction as they go bright red. “Well would you like to see it or not?” he asks with a huff.

Ed laughs. “Of course I fucking would, silly.”

His hands come to rest at Stede’s hips as he kisses him again, and Stede in turn grabs his hand and gives him a playful push back to lead him out the back door of the house. They hit the fence quickly and Ed wonders briefly if Stede actually scales this thing every day before Stede leads him to a section hidden behind a bush where the links have been cut away. They duck through and go on a winding journey through the woods, avoiding rocks and fallen trees.

They stop briefly for Stede to reach in a log and grab a bow and quiver of arrows. “Just as a precaution. There’s bears around here this time of year.”

Ed’s freezes at the sight of the weapon, seeing himself just a few weeks ago nearly being killed but saved by Evelyn’s arrow. “I’m sorry,” he says as his breath fails him, and he feels like he needs to sit. “I just….” He stumbles back before practically collapsing to the ground. He doesn’t have the words, they’ve all seemed to leave his brain, and all he can see and hear is the sound of squelching blood and screaming and footfalls as he runs away from the Cornucopia with Evelyn.

Stede immediately seems to understand what’s going on, and sets the quiver down, sitting next to Ed. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.” His voice is low and soft, soothing. He continues, “We don’t have to go any further. We can go home right now and just sit on the couch with the cat.”

“No.” Ed takes a deep breath. “No, I’m fine.” He wills his heart to stop racing, turning to look at Stede. “I would guess you know how it is too, huh?”

“God yeah, I’ve been having nightmares like crazy.” Stede’s hand hovers over Ed’s leg. He raises his eyebrows in question, asking silently for permission to touch, and Ed nods. Stede’s touch is grounding, and reminds him they’re okay. “We’re not very far, just beyond these few trees. Are you okay?”

Ed lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Yeah, mate. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good. Let me know if you wanna leave, okay?”

Ed nods, taking in another deep breath. “I will.” He manages to smile, his mind settling. “Now show me this secret hideout.”

Stede smiles and offers his hand. Ed takes it, and in only a few paces, past a couple thick bushes and large trees, they’re in a clearing. It’s bright, and dotted with colorful wildflowers amongst the tall grass. Ed marvels at the sight, so bright and colorful in such a dark dingy place like 12. It actually reminds him of Stede himself. It’s here as well that he sees just how mountainous 12 is, how the whole district is essentially carved into the side of a mountain overlooking this valley. As he’s marvelling at this special place, he hears Stede unfurling a blanket onto the grass.

“I keep it hidden up in the trees,” Stede explains at Ed’s questioning look. “I forgot it once and got a nasty tick bite.”

Ed smiles, fondly teasing, “You and your little hiding places.”

Stede pulls him to sit on the blanket, both of them leaning into each other. Ed rests his head on Stede’s shoulder as they watch the bees in the field flit from flower to flower.

“I’ve realized something,” Stede muses to himself.

“What’s that, love?”

“There’s just…so much I don’t know about you,” he says.

Ed smiles. “Like what, babe? I haven’t exactly been keeping things close to my chest with you.”

“Well, like…” Stede hums thoughtfully. 

“Ask me whatever you want. I’m an open book.”

Stede leans his head down onto Ed’s. “I don’t even know your favorite color.”

Ed gives a loud, fake gasp. “Oh, well now you’re crossing the line, that’s much too personal.”

“Ed!” Stede nudges him with a laugh before scrunching his nose against the top of Ed’s head. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?”

“If you insist on knowing such deep, personal information about me…” Ed says with a laugh. “Purple. What about you?”

“Orange.”

“Like that coat Jackie was wearing?” Ed says with a shudder. It was a garish neon orange that she insisted was in season right now.

Stede laughs softly. “No, softer, more like a sunset.”

Ed hums. “Okay, yeah. That’s a nice color.” He snuggles closer to Stede, all but tossing a leg over Stede’s. “God, I missed you. I already miss you and I just got here.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Stede reaches over, catching up a lock of Ed’s hair and idly twisting it around his finger. “Once we figure out how to live together, it’s over, I’m never leaving you. You’re stuck with me.”

Ed smiles, imagining what that will be like. Waking up with Stede every morning, making breakfast, going about their days in tandem, falling asleep in Stede’s arms each night. “I can think of worse fates.”

-

6 Months After the 74th Hunger Games

The snow around Stede’s house is gray now. He had let Ed know about the incoming blizzard days prior, and seemed excited to see the first falling snowflakes. But of course, the ever present coal dust in the air has already soiled the white powder. 

For once, there are no cameras around. With the unexpected trip over here, they must be running a few hours behind him, at least. It’s an amazing feeling, freeing, to finally be able to walk up to Stede’s house, unobserved, unconcerned about what expression he’s making, whether he looks like he’s happy or in love enough. That all falls away, though, when he finally makes it to the door, unsure of what he’ll find inside. 

He knocks once, waits a moment, but there’s no answer.

He knocks again, this time calling, “Stede? It’s me.” After a moment, he hears a rustle of movement from inside and he braces himself. 

The door opens slowly, just a crack, just enough for Stede to look out. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, face pale and eyes wide, apparently shocked to see Ed standing on his doorstep. “What? Why are you here, darling?” His voice is hoarse, scratchy maybe from his illness? Ed wonders if it’s sore, if there’s anything he can do to soothe it. 

“Jackie told me you were sick,” he says. He reaches out to try to see if Stede has a fever, but Stede jerks back suddenly. Ed drops his hand to his side. “I was worried. I came to see if you needed anything.”

Stede seems to shrink back. “You really didn’t have to.”

“But I missed you. When you didn’t show yesterday, I was worried.” He’s itching to just take Stede into his arms, to wrap him up in a blanket and…and fucking hand-feed him soup or something. It’s obvious that something is wrong. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Stede shifts nervously. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Ed frowns. Something is really wrong here. “Okay, you’re acting weird.”

“What? Weird how?” Stede asks, as if everything about this entire situation isn’t setting off alarm bells in Ed’s head.

“Look, first, can I come in? It’s fucking freezing out here, and if you’re sick, you shouldn’t be standing around in the doorway.”

Stede hesitates and for a moment, Ed thinks he’s going to just shut the door in his face. But then he steps to the side, opening the door wider for Ed. He steps inside, shocked to find that it’s not much warmer inside the house than it is outside.

“Do you not have the heat on?” Ed asks with a frown. “Or a fire going?” Stede just shrugs, so Ed heads to the thermostat, ratcheting the heat up. “Okay, love, what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out, here.”

Stede crosses his arms over his chest, looking away. “I really don’t get what you mean,” he says stiffly.

“Well, this whole thing, for starters,” Ed says. “You didn’t even call to tell me you weren’t coming. And, man, I get if you don’t want to travel because you’re sick, but it’s not like you to not call. And I was trying to call you yesterday for hours, and you didn’t pick up. How could I not be worried?”

Stede’s jaw is silently clenching and unclenching, his face a carefully blank mask. It’s a familiar look, actually, one that Ed has seen Stede use around his parents when he’s trying to pretend that everything’s fine. “Look, I just can’t do this right now,” he finally says. 

“What can’t you do? This conversation? That’s fine,” Ed says, stepping closer. “We should get you into bed, anyway. Get some sleep and then we can—”

“No,” Stede snaps suddenly, and Ed freezes in place. “I can’t do…this.”

Ed shakes his head. He’s losing the thread of this conversation quickly. “You can’t do…what? Me visiting?”

Stede’s gaze shifts to the floor as he quietly says, “I just… I need to be alone right now.”

“What?” Ed really has no idea what’s going on here anymore. Stede has never been this closed off to him, not even during that first conversation, when they were still supposed to be enemies, just starting to feel each other out. But whatever’s going on, he doesn’t think that it has anything to do with Stede being sick. “I’m not leaving you alone,” he says firmly. “Something’s clearly wrong, and I want to help you, and I came all this—”

“You should have told me you were coming, Edward,” Stede interrupts. The use of his full name like that from Stede’s lips takes Ed completely aback. “I don’t have anything ready for you here, I—“

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” No, absolutely not. He tried to call, he called so many fucking times, and the lack of answer only made him more certain that something was wrong. What else was he supposed to do? “And how the fuck was I supposed to tell you when you haven’t answered any of my calls, Stede?”

Stede lets out a humorless huff. “I don’t know, leave a voicemail?”

“Stede.”

“I just…” He tightens his arms across his chest, finally looking up at Ed. There’s a distance in his eyes that Ed’s never seen directed at him before. “There’s stuff going on that I need to figure out and I can’t do that with you here.”

“So you want me to do what? Just….go home?” He can’t fucking believe how fucking upside down this entire conversation is going. He came here to check up on Stede, to make sure he’s okay, and now Stede is acting like this entire thing is just a huge inconvenience for him. “I just fucking got here!”

“I didn’t ask you to come!” Stede shouts.

“Yeah, why would you when you can’t even fucking give me the courtesy of telling me you weren’t coming? Or of answering my calls!” How is this somehow his fucking fault? “I was worried!”

Stede shakes his head, and for the first time Ed finally sees something beyond the cold welcome he’s received, though he has no idea what to call it. “Ed, please just go.”

“What the fuck?” Ed snaps, and Stede flinches at the anger in his voice. “Are you fucking serious? Sorry I wanted to see my boyfriend, to check on him, make sure he’s okay.”

Stede’s brows furrow, his expression pained. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Oh, is it?” Ed asks. He can’t fucking believe the audacity of Stede right now. Of completely ghosting him, of being pissed when Ed shows up to check on him, and now trying to send Ed away without even an explanation of what’s going on. “Complicated how?”

Stede drags his hands through his already mussed hair, and drops them to loudly slap his legs, “I can’t tell you, Edward. Just fucking go!” 

“No, I’m not fucking…” He lets out a frustrated groan. “Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?!”

Finally, something in Stede seems to snap, and he yells, “Because, Edward, I’m trying to protect you!”

“Protect me?” It’s obvious that Stede hadn’t meant to say that, had fully intended to keep that under wraps, probably as part of his attempt at protecting Ed, but even if he hadn’t let it slip, it’s obvious that there’s something really wrong here, and Ed isn’t about to leave without finding out what that is. It’s something bad, thats fucking clear as day, but what kind of bad is driving Ed near to insanity. “From what? From helping my boyfriend when he’s clearly freaked out about something?”

Stede’s hands are back in his hair, his fingers curled and nearly tugging at the ends. “I’m freaked out about us, Ed! There’s…things that you don’t know and I—”

“Things I don’t know,” Ed repeats, interrupting. Quite frankly, there’s still a lot he doesn’t know about Stede, and about his life, but he doesn’t care. Stede can tell him, or not tell him, and while he’d prefer that Stede tell him, Stede is allowed to have his privacy. Ed just wants to be with him. That’s all that matters. “All I need to know is that I love you and you love me.”

“Ed, you…” Stede’s voice cracks and he shakes his head. Desperately, he says, “You can’t love me.”

Ed’s stomach drops. They’ve both had this talk before, both of them believing that the other deserves better, and they’ve worked through it every time, but somehow this feels different. This feels like it’s coming from a different place. But whatever brought this on, Ed is not about to let Stede slip away like this. “Too bad,” he says, stepping closer. He reaches out for Stede’s cheek, but Stede refuses to look at him, his arms crossed back over his chest, staring down and off to the side. Ed draws his thumb across Stede’s cheekbone gently. He hadn’t noticed before how much Stede is shaking. “Because I fucking do, so.” 

In a quiet voice, Stede hesitantly asks, “Even if Badminton was right?”

Ed’s hand freezes. He has to swallow several times before his throat is clear enough for him to ask, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Stede’s voice is nearly a whisper. “About us faking it.”

“We’re not faking it, though,” Ed says. His hands are shaking now, too.

“I…” 

Stede still won’t look at him, and Ed feels the first kernels of dread, like nothing he’s ever felt before. “Stede,” he says, demands, and finally Stede looks at him. His expression is full of remorse and fear and…and resignation, and Ed can’t, he can’t think about what that means. “We’re not faking it,” he insists.

A few tears slip free from Stede’s eyes. “Not…now.”

Ed drops his hand at his side. “Not now?” he echoes.

And finally, Stede seems to come to life. His face crumples and he rocks forward, his hands grasping Ed’s shirt. “Ed, you…” He looks terrified now, like whatever he’s about to say is going to cause Ed to fucking…hit him or something. And Ed never, never would hurt him, no matter what Stede said or did, but just the fact that Stede looks that terrified has Ed stepping back, pulling free of Stede’s grip. Stede’s hands close on the air before he crosses his arms again, practically hugging himself. “You have to know I love you and I promise I would never lie about that, but…”

Ed clenches his hands at his sides. “But what?”

Stede holds himself tighter, looking away, looking so fucking scared. He wipes his eyes before turning back to him. “During the Games, when I kissed you, and when I first said I love you, I…I still wasn’t sure.”

Ed’s entire body goes cold. He takes another step back, his lower back bumping into the kitchen island. “You weren’t sure?” he repeats. But…Stede had kissed him, had kissed him back when Ed kissed him the first time.

Stede fully buckles and words start pouring out of him like a waterfall. “I knew that it would get you sponsor gifts and you desperately needed them so I…”

“So you fucking used me?!” Ed’s head is spinning, and he swears his heart is cracking in two.

“No, not like—” Stede’s voice cracks as he desperately tries to explain himself, explain away the fucking lies and manipulation. “I was doing it to help you!”

“Help me,” Ed says flatly. He grips the edge of the counter behind him so tightly, his fingers cramp up. “You lied to me to help me.” Was it all a lie? All of it? This entire thing? 

Stede desperately shakes his head, his explanation spewing out of him. “No, I… Please, understand, Ed. I knew that I liked you and I knew that playing it up would get sponsors and…and you were dying, Ed. And I think…I think I must have known somewhere deep down that I did love you, and that’s why…” Stede’s tears have bubbled over, streaking down his cheeks. “Ed, I…I just knew I couldn’t lose you.” 

Ed doesn’t know what to believe anymore. Everything he thought was true about Stede, about them, it was all just…all part of the game? “So it was all fake?”

Stede wrings his hands together, still shaking his head, still trying to appeal to Ed. “Not…” He seems to deflate slightly as he admits, “Not all of it.”

The rage inside Ed bubbles over and turns to agony. Stede may as well have fucking reached into his chest and ripped his heart out with his own hands. This lie, this fucking act, that Ed’s been falling for all this time, and that Stede is still trying to put on now, after admitting to it. He can’t believe it. He feels tears come to his eyes. “You don’t love me,” he says, and he hates the way his voice cracks.

Stede’s eyes go wide and he reaches for Ed, for Ed’s hands, but Ed bats them away, striding across the kitchen to put more distance between them. He crosses his arms tightly. His eyes catch on that first sketch he did of Stede, framed up on the wall, the silly one he did without even looking at the paper. That was a lie too.

Stede sounds frantic as he cries, “I do! I do love you, I… That’s why I have to tell you the truth!”

Ed almost laughs as he spins back around. “What? That you fucking kissed me and said all that shit and made me fall in love with you for money?” Stede’s face is stricken as Ed continues, “So all that stuff you said, all the shit about caring about me and not being able to live without me, that was all bullshit?”

“No! I did care about you! I—” He shakes his head as he stammers, “I… I mean, I do! I just… I wasn’t there yet. Where you were, I mean.” He fists his hands in his shirt at the hem, the fabric bunching up. “I talked to John about it before Lucius’ first interview, and I said I didn’t know what I was feeling that night. And I just, I needed time, time we didn’t have then but that we do have now.”

Ed has no idea how he’s supposed to believe anything Stede is saying right now. He’s wracking his brain, trying to remember those first times, those first kisses, the first I love yous, trying to pick out any evidence, anything at all to support Stede’s fucking claim that he loves him now, but there’s nothing. Stede kisses him the same way now that he did then, he holds him the same way, talks to him the same way, so how the fuck can Stede say that he loves him now, when he didn’t then? 

Stede is standing anxiously in front of him, his fingers so tight on the hem of his shirt that his knuckles are white. Ed can tell that Stede is waiting, hoping for some type of forgiveness here, but all Ed can remember is the first time he told Stede he loved him: both of them devastated after learning that Mary and Evelyn had died, after Ed had put the idea out there about them going out on their own terms, after Stede had refused the idea and had insisted that he was going to get Ed home to his mother. Ed had said it first, and the unreadable look on Stede’s face… Ed had been terrified that Stede wouldn’t say it back, and so fucking happy when he did, but if it was all just a fucking act, is it… Wouldn’t it have been better for Stede to just say nothing instead?

“So you didn’t mean it when you said you loved me? That first time?” Ed asks, his voice soft. “What about the second? And the third?” Ed swipes a hand under his eyes, furious at the betrayal of his tears. “When did you start to mean it, Stede?”

“I…I dont…” Stede falters, shaking his head, before insisting, “I mean it now! Isn’t that what matters?” Stede steps forward again, trying to reach out to Ed, but Ed takes a step back again, not intending to let Stede anywhere near him right now. If Stede touches him right now, when he’s trying to convince Ed that he does love him, when Ed is trying to reconcile the last six months in his head, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. Stede makes a choked sound in his throat as Ed continues to avoid him. “I’m trying to protect you, Ed, please believe me!”

“How can I believe anything you say anymore?” Ed yells. “How? When that whole time you were lying to me!”

Stede’s crying so hard now, his step forward is more of a stumble. “Please. I wasn’t lying, I just didn’t know…”

“No,” Ed says firmly. “You kissed me, you… You said you loved me, even though you didn’t.” He sniffs, wiping at his eyes again. “What the fuck else do you call that, Stede?”

“Ed, please. Please don’t go,” Stede begs. “I—”

“Just stop,” Ed snaps. He turns to leave, taking a few steps to the door before pausing. Over his shoulder, in a bitter voice, he says, “You’re a better actor than Lucius thinks.”

“Ed…” he hears Stede say behind him.

He doesn’t turn around. “No. I need some time. Away from you.” He walks out into the cold November air. The falling snowflakes have mixed even more with coal dust from the morning mine work, turning the landscape into an otherworldly black-covered surface. 

He can vaguely hear Stede crying behind him, but he can’t look back. He can’t look back at the person who he thought he loved, at the person who he thought loved him. At the boy who turned out to be just like his father. A manipulative liar.

He just barely hears Stede call, “I’m sorry,” but it’s meaningless. 

There’s no value in an apology from a liar.

Chapter Text

The train ride back to 1 has never felt longer.

After leaving Stede’s house, Ed goes straight back to the train. The camera crews have finally caught up, but are thankfully still unpacking and Ed manages to slip past them without them catching him in time to question what he’s doing. Jackie is waiting for him on the train, and needs no explanation. With one look at his face, she lets him pass by without a word, Ed retreating to his room as she heads onto the platform to act as cover, telling the cameras that Stede isn’t feeling well and Ed has decided to give him some space after dropping off a care package. It doesn’t take long for the train to get moving again after that.

Meanwhile, Ed sits in his room, the blinds shut and windows blacked out, and feels an ache in his chest. His eyes burn and his hands are shaking. He wants to cry so bad, but he’s still just so angry. He wants to break something, to destroy this room and punch something, but what would that accomplish? It’s his own fault. He’s just a stupid kid that fell for a victor’s son. Someone he thought was different, but who turned out to be like all the rest of them. A self-centered liar who used Ed for sponsors in his time of need. 

His mind automatically goes back to the cave, the first time Ed kissed him, trying to get him to stop freaking out, to calm down and think and talk about it for a second, and the hesitant way Stede embraced him back, the way he asked Ed if he had meant to do that. And only a few minutes later, when Stede had kissed him, the strange look on his face beforehand that Ed couldn’t read, that he still isn’t sure what it meant. At the time, Ed thought that Stede was just shy, nervous, and, fuck, Ed had been too, but… 

But Stede’s interview with Lucius before they went into the arena. Lucius point blank asked him if their relationship was more than just friends, and Stede hadn’t answered for…for so long, and…and Ed’s played back his response in his head enough times now, trying to dissect its meaning that it comes back automatically for him, Stede’s voice hesitant… I’m not the best at categorizing feelings, but there’s something there, and I wish we would have more time together. He wants to believe Stede is telling the truth, but how does he know it all wasn’t some elaborate plan to get the sponsors on his side? Stede is good at the media bullshit. He’d been in the spotlight his entire life, and he knew what to say and what would play well and…and maybe he thought that faking this romance would ensure his safety, and get him out of the arena? 

Only an idiot would want to get on the Capitol’s bad side like that, and Stede’s their perfect idiot. Stupid, lying, manipulative, sweet, caring, adorable— no! No, he isn’t those last things, not anymore. 

There’s a soft knock at his door. “Hey, you don’t have to, but I just wanted to see if you wanted to talk?” Jackie asks. 

“It’s open.” 

He turns onto his side as Jackie comes in. He doesn’t want to talk, but he doesn’t want to be alone, either. He just needs someone he can trust to just be there . She’s hesitant as she walks in, not wearing any heavy jewelry or her bespoke red brocade coat. The bed dips as she sits down next to Ed, and puts her arm around Ed’s shoulder. 

“You don’t have to say anything, but I just wanted to ask.” She pauses with a sigh. “Is it relationship related?” Ed’s face contorts and he wordlessly nods his head. She nods, giving his shoulder a soft rub. “I won’t tell anyone. I know how you feel. You don’t have 20 husbands without getting your heart broken a few times.” 

She doesn’t say else anything out loud for the entirety of the time she sits with him, but she says more with her body language than she ever could with her words. She hugs Ed and reaches over for tissues as he cries and doesn’t even grimace when he tosses his used tissues onto the bed and the floor. Jackie may be Stede’s escort, but in these last six months, she’s proven that she cares deeply for both of them. No matter what Stede does, Ed feels like he can trust her. 

Jackie sits with him a while, not pressing any further, knowing that Ed needs time to get over what he experienced at Stede’s place. When she eventually leaves, she presses a kiss to the top of his head, and gently smooths over the spot. It feels like what his mom does when she’s calming him down from one of his nightmares or panic attacks. Vaguely, Ed wonders if Jackie has any children. He’s never even asked. 

She leaves, and after a questioning look with her hand on the lightswitch, to which Ed nods, shuts off the lights, leaving Ed in a quiet pitch black room. 

He wants to sleep, to just get out of this day, to finally put this whole thing behind him but he just can’t seem to fall asleep. He keeps replaying their time together, all the things they’ve said to each other, all the secrets they’ve shared. He’s told Stede… so much. So much that he regrets telling him now. He poured his soul out to Stede, to this person that used him, and this is how Ed is repaid?

He keeps seeing Stede’s face, hearing his voice, the way he’d tried to cling to Ed’s shirt before admitting… everything. It’s making him toss and turn, starting to cry all over again. Eventually, Ed remembers that there are sleeping gummies in the side table, made with the same plants that Stede used to put Ed to sleep while he went to the feast in the Games. And isn’t it fucking ironic that he needs them now, to help him forget Stede. He takes one of them and slowly feels himself being taken by sleep, his entire body feeling heavy, hopefully he’ll dream of better times. 

-

1 month after the 74th Hunger Games

When they arrive at Stede’s parents house, the cameras are already waiting for them. Stede’s smile goes stiff for a moment before smoothing out. Ed self-consciously tries to fix his hair as Stede rings the doorbell, and when Stede looks back at him, he frowns. “What are you doing, love?” 

“It’s the first time I’m meeting your mom,” Ed says. He bends over to try to see his reflection in the thin line of glass next to the door, smoothing away several flyaways. “I want to make a good impression.

Stede shakes his head, reaching up to stop Ed’s hands. He tucks a lock of Ed’s hair back, behind his ear. “You look gorgeous, as always,” Stede says, and Ed feels his cheeks warm. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. No matter what you do, my parents will find fault with everything. It’s just their way,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

Ed doesn’t have any time to answer before the door is being opened by a thin blonde woman that Ed recognizes as Sarah Bonnet. Her eyes barely register Ed as she leans forward to kiss the air next to Stede’s cheek. “Stede, hello.”

“Mother,” Stede says. His voice has gone into a tone that Ed has only heard once before, during the closing ceremony when Stede had addressed President Badminton. He sounds distant. Aloof and unemotional. “I hope you’re doing well.”

“Quite well, thank you.” She pays no mind to the cameras, evidently used to being recorded. She waits expectantly for a moment before saying, “I do hope you haven’t forgotten all of your manners, Stede.”

Stede seems to jolt, then, rushing to say, “I apologise, Mother. May I introduce you to my boyfriend, Edward Teach?” He gestures to Ed, like he’s showing off a recently acquired art piece.

“Of course.” Sarah’s gaze finally turns to Ed, and the lack of any kind of reaction is unnerving. Sarah gives off the impression of a person who’s been staring at the same beige wall for a decade, who has lost the ability to distinguish between that wall and anything else. “Mr. Teach. It’s a pleasure to meet you. She holds out her hand, not to initiate a handshake, but with her palm down, wrist limp, fingers delicately curved downward.

Ed glances at Stede, unsure what to do, and Stede subtly taps the back of his own hand before slightly puckering his lips. “Oh, um…” Ed takes her hand and gives it an awkward kiss. “Thank you, Mrs. Bonnet. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Sarah’s expression doesn’t change, but Ed somehow just knows that she’s less than impressed with him. “Yes, well. She steps away from the doorway. “Please come in. Dinner will be ready soon.” Ed exchanges a glance with Stede before Stede leads the way inside. “Edward is in his study. He’ll be along in a moment.”

How weird it must be for your boyfriend and dick of a father to have the same name, Ed wonders to himself. He met Edward Bonnet, and told him right then and there what he thought of him. 

Sarah ushers them into a sitting room, the cameras trailing behind them and quickly setting themselves up to be able to get reaction shots. The house itself is cold. It’s decorated grandly but with a severe air of austerity, of not being able to touch. Ed feels like the furniture is off-limits, like this couch that appears to be an antique is to be looked at and not sat on, at least until Stede perches himself on the edge of the cushion. Ed sits next to him, and Sarah brings them drinks before sitting herself down on the loveseat across from them. 

A painful silence stretches between the three of them before Ed can’t take it any more, saying, “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Bonnet.”

“Thank you,” she says primly. Ed wonders vaguely what it would take for her to crack even a polite smile. 

To be honest, Ed had wondered if Stede hadn’t been exaggerating about his mother’s demeanor the few times they’d spoken about her. Ed is no stranger to having a piece of shit father, and he’s experienced Edward Bonnet firsthand. But Ed always had his mother to lean on, to comfort him, to support him. Liz Teach is a warm and kind woman, who has always done everything she could to take care of him and to make sure he knew that he was loved. It was difficult to imagine a mother who could be just as terrible as a father, though in a different way.

Now, though, Ed can see no hint of affection in her eyes for her son, despite how amazing Stede is. He’s smart and funny and creative and kind, and he’s a victor now. Sarah Bonnet should be beside herself with pride. But all Ed can see is the vaguest acknowledgment of Stede’s existence. 

Ed finds himself reaching out for Stede’s hand, interlocking their fingers. Stede is tense next to him, though he relaxes slightly at Ed’s touch. Sarah’s eyes flick down to their joined hands before she takes a delicate sip of her water. 

“So, Mr. Teach,” she says, and Ed finds himself inexplicably tensing. “Tell me about yourself. I think it’s only appropriate that I should know something of the boy my son has…caused such a stir over.”

Ed feels Stede’s hand tighten on his and he glances over to see Stede clenching his jaw. He squeezes his hand softly, reassuringly, before looking back at Sarah. “Well, I…I’m not sure what you already know.” She says nothing, simply taking another sip of her drink. “Um, my parents worked in the factories in District 1. I started there too when I was younger, although now obviously both my mom and I were able to quit. I, uh, I like to draw—”

“No,” she interrupts suddenly, and Ed clamps his mouth shut. “I mean, now that you’re a victor, what do you plan to do? You were able to pay for your mother’s treatment, yes?” Ed nods. “And that was your sole motivation for volunteering in the first place. So now that you’ve attained that goal, how do you intend to show your gratitude to the Capitol?”

“How do I—?”

“Mother,” Stede hisses. She flicks her gaze back to him. “That’s incredibly—”

“Stede,” a voice booms from the entrance to the sitting room. Stede’s mouth clamps shut, and they all turn to see Edward Bonnet standing there, looking disapprovingly upon the entire set-up. “Do not speak to your mother that way.”

Stede shrinks into Ed’s side, and Ed is vividly reminded of the way he acted when his father had appeared after their victory, the way Stede had clung to him, practically hid behind him. Ed leans himself solidly against Stede, hoping to convey a sense of protection, of safety. 

Still, despite Stede’s diminished physicality, he answers back with a forceful tone, “If the two of you are rude to my boyfriend, your guest, I’ll speak to you however you deserve.”

Stede’s father approaches and sighs, as if Stede’s acting like an overdramatic child. “We have no intention of being rude to Edward.”

“And yet,” Stede mutters, and Ed has to bite his cheek to keep from breaking into a grin. 

His father turns to Ed and, after a tense moment, holds out his hand. “Edward,” he says shortly.

“Edward,” he greets back. He takes Bonnet’s hand to shake it, only to be jerked forward.

“On your feet, boy,” Edward snaps harshly. “Didn’t your father teach you the proper way to shake a man’s hand?”

“He didn’t, unfortunately,” Ed says, though he does stand and grasp Edward’s hand, squeezing tightly. “He was a bit too busy with drinking himself to death and beating me and my mom senseless to bother with teaching me about propriety.” He drops Bonnet’s hand almost as quickly as he took it, tacking on a disingenuous, “Sir.”

The rest of the eventing continues in much the same manner. The cameras leave shortly afterwards. Their meal had been promised to be a private affair, ostensibly so that Ed and Stede’s parents could get to know each other better, though Ed does wonder if Stede’s parents hadn’t arranged for it to be private because they knew they wouldn’t be able to keep up the very poor pretense of civility throughout an entire meal.

Dinner is an awkward mess. Ed had known it would be terrible, even before officially meeting Stede’s mother and father. But despite all of that, Ed tries to be cordial, to be polite, to make an effort with the people who will, if everything goes well, someday be his in-laws. But Stede’s parents are anything but. Edward Bonnet, of course, practically ignores him, and when he doesn’t, looks down at him with a cold disdain, and Stede’s mother, Sarah, gives off the same energy as someone from the Capitol, even being from 12. She’s fake, cold, and distant. She’s a far cry from Ed’s mother, who exudes warmth and love to every person she meets. Sarah speaks more than Stede’s father during dinner, but in such a passive aggressive tone that tells Ed she isn’t interested in him or his relationship with her son. By the end of dinner, he can tell that Stede is sick of it. He excuses them both under the guise of wanting to watch the replay of their meeting in Stede’s living room. 

Instead however, Stede leads him back to the fence, and they end up back in the meadow where they had been sitting earlier. The sun is setting, and casting brilliant colors onto the clouds above. Stede sets his hand on top of Ed’s and rests his head on Ed’s shoulder. “I’m sorry my parents suck.”

“I’m sorry for you, too.” He looks down at Stede, smoothing back his bangs. “How those assholes made someone as sweet as you should be studied.”

Stede chuckles and his face turns a perfect shade of pink. “My mother said something after we won along the lines of, ‘You know your children would be perfect specimens for future Games,’ and I nearly fucking vomited.”

Ed pulls back, staring down at Stede in disgust. “What the fuck?”

Stede shakes his head. “They have the same backwards view as the Capitol.” Stede looks down, shaking his head. “I’ve heard…stories of them basically studding out victors to create super children.” He shudders and hugs Ed tighter. “Who would ever want their child to do that, to have a child meant to win the Hunger Games?”

Ed leans his head on Stede’s. “In 1, you know, it’s pretty much required to go to training, but no one ever wants to be there. No parent wants their child to have to do this, not even the victors I’ve met. Well, at least not the good ones. Some parents do see it as a way to improve their lives. Have a kid who wins the Games, and you can live off their winnings the rest of your life.” He pauses, looking out at the untouched land before them, not sullied by the capitalistic desires of Panem, nature just existing as it was truly meant to. “I’m never having kids. Not with things being how they are.”

“I’m not either.” But he can sense the hesitation in Stede’s voice, and he knows what Stede is really saying is, I’m not, but I would if things were different, and honestly Ed feels the same way. He wants a family, a nice happy family like the one he craved so badly as a child, but right now… They just can’t get that with the way things are. They can’t have a nice happy existence with the looming threat of the Games hanging over them. Worrying every year once his child hit reaping age if that would be the year, the year that his kid gets taken away.

And it’s not only the fear of his child being reaped. Ed’s own father was… so terrible. He so badly wants to be a good father to make up for the sins of his own, but there’s a lingering fear that he’d be just as bad. That his child would feel the same way Ed did when his father died: happy. He feels a heaviness in his chest remembering that time, how he’d felt, how hopeless everything was. How he knew things would just get worse and worse, unless he took matters into his own hands. 

Sometimes he wonders if Stede can read his mind, because at that moment, as if he’d sensed something off about Ed, he straightens up, catching Ed’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Ed shakes his head, glancing away to wipe at his eyes. “‘S nothing. Just…thinking about my dad.” Stede hums softly, kissing his shoulder. “I told you how he died, right?”

Stede nods. “Yeah, it was in a factory accident, wasn’t it?”

“That’s the official story,” he says. “And he probably would have died like that anyway, eventually. He was always drinking.” He looks down at the blanket, picking at a ball of lint stuck to the fabric. Stede shifts beside him to look at him better, and Ed takes a deep breath before starting. “The day before, he had been beating me and my mom senseless. He was drunk and fucking pissed like he always was, and I’d had it. I was just fucking… done, you know? The next day at work, I walked past his station, and he was already drunk, a stumbling mess, and I just…helped the process along.”

Stede seems to immediately understand what he means, his eyes widening. “You…?”

Ed picks off another bit of lint and tosses it off the blanket, nodding. “Yeah, I killed my dad. Pushed him into an industrial shredder where we made wood chips from discarded furniture.” He huffs a laugh. “You could smell it for weeks after.”

Stede is silent for a moment, and Ed thinks that this must be it. This has to be the thing that pushes Stede over the edge. Stede had killed in the Games out of necessity and self-preservation, but Ed… Ed is just a murderer.  

He’s afraid to look at Stede, to see the horror or the judgement or the fear he’ll certainly see there, but to his surprise, Stede’s voice is full of compassion when he asks, “How old were you, again?”

“Twelve.”

“Oh, Edward.” To Ed’s shock, he feels Stede wrap his arms around him, enveloping Ed in a hug to end all hugs. He squeezes his shoulders, rubbing up and down his back and head, kissing Ed’s temple, and Ed feels silent tears slip from his eyes. “I’m so sorry you had to do that.”

Ed sits frozen in Stede’s arms, trying to choke back the tears. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I mean, good that that fucker is dead, but you were a baby. You shouldn’t have had to.” 

Ed feels himself crumple at that, almost collapsing into Stede’s arms. He hugs him back, letting the tears, tears that he’s held back for years and years, flow freely, finally. Throughout it all, Stede comforts him, rubbing his back, dropping kisses onto Ed’s cheeks and forehead and the top of his head and wherever he can reach. 

Ed has never allowed himself to grieve for what he lost. Not his father, he never felt like his death was a loss at all, but the loss of himself. His childhood. Stede is right. He was a kid, and he never should have had to go through abuse at his father’s hands, and especially shouldn’t have had to take his father’s life to protect himself. 

He feels his tears slowing, and he eventually manages to croak out, “Thank you.”

He feels Stede shake his head. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I’ve never told anyone that,” Ed says into Stede’s shoulder, his voice rough.

“Well then, your secret is safe with me. I pinky swear I’ll never tell.” He holds out a pinky for Ed and Ed pulls back with a watery smile. 

“That’s a binding promise, you know,” Ed says, wiping his eyes before holding his pinky out in return. “Can’t go back on it.”

“I can assure you, I won’t.” They hook their pinkies together, and Stede leans in to properly kiss him. “You’re safe now, you won. You’re loved. Never forget that.”

Ed lets his forehead rest on Stede’s, closing his eyes, surprised to find that he actually does feel safe here, with Stede. “Same to you.”

-

Six Months After the 74th Hunger Games

They arrive in District 1 early in the morning, around 6 a.m. As Capitol film crews are never up that early—they even schedule the Hunger Games later in the morning because no one in the Capitol will be up early to watch it—he’s able to leave the train station in an unfamiliar quiet, his footsteps echoing in the puddles that dot the street. It must have rained last night. 

Jackie follows him home, making sure he gets there safe. Once they reach Victors Village, she leaves him at his door, but not before enveloping him in a hug. “I’ll see you in two weeks for the Victory Tour,” she says when she pulls back. She pauses before leaving, adding, “And I know it hurts, but remember what the cameras want to see.” 

He thought it would be impossible to feel any worse than he already does, but somehow, that makes an entirely new wave of devastation hit him. He understands exactly what she means. The country will be expecting to see a happy couple, thanking the Capitol for their generosity and being completely devoted to each other. No matter how angry Ed is, no matter the status of their actual relationship, in public, he and Stede are together, and it hurts to know that. He’ll have just two weeks to grieve this relationship and process the lies he’s been told before he has to see Stede again, before he has to act like he’s just as madly in love and deliriously happy as he’s been the last six months.

With one last hug, Jackie takes her leave, and Ed is alone on his doorstep. He takes a moment to compose himself before opening the door. He tries to shut it quietly—his mother is probably awake. Even after months without having to report in early to work, her body seems unable to sleep past 6:30—and he doesn’t want to disturb her. She’s always had a keen sense when it comes to him, though, and not five seconds after Ed carefully shuts the door with a soft click, he hears his mother calling, “Edward?” from the kitchen. “Is that you, sweetie?”

She appears in the doorway a moment later with a mug of coffee in her hand. He has no idea what he looks like, but it must not be good, because from the expression on her face, she can immediately tell that something’s wrong. “Edward, are—” she manages before Ed collapses in on himself, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Oh, love, oh, come here.” She sets her coffee down on the side table in the entryway and pulls him into arms and Ed is shocked to realize that this whole time, he’s been holding back. He cries into her shoulder, sobs wracking his entire body. He hasn’t cried like this in…in so long that he can’t even remember. It bursts open like a broken dam, and he can’t control it.

“Shhh, shhh, sweetie, it’s okay,” she whispers as she rubs his back. She hasn’t even asked what happened, and he hasn’t had a chance to tell her yet, so she must think he’s insane, walking in the door and immediately bursting into tears like a toddler having a meltdown. But instead of trying to find out what happened, like she’s no doubt dying to do, she simply embraces him, rocking his body side to side. “I’m here, my love, you’re okay.”

It takes Ed a moment to even be able to get the semblance of words out, and when he does, he has no idea how his mom manages to understand the muffled mess he spews into her neck, but somehow she understands his garble, “I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“Hey now, don’t talk about my son that way.” She pulls back, kissing his forehead. “You are not an idiot, no matter what.”

He sinks to the ground, fully admitting defeat to his own feelings and just giving into the sobs. His mother follows, holding him against her chest so she can pet his hair and down his back. She rubs slow circles into his back and rocks with him. Just like she did when he was a little kid, after one of his father’s rampages. 

She coaxes him after a while to sit in the kitchen and drink something, an ice water and a mug of herbal tea sitting in front of him. “What happened? Is Stede okay? Or did something else happen?” She scowls. “Do I need to go mama bear on someone?”

The mention of Stede’s name brings it all back, the desperation on his face, the terrified confession. Ed feels himself wilting at the memory of it, at the heartbreak on Stede’s face, and Ed wants desperately to run back to him, to forgive him everything, to believe that Stede does actually love him. But he’s not going to let himself be fooled again. “Stede’s fine. Great actually,” Ed says bitterly. “Probably having a fucking party, now that I’m not there anymore.”

Mom frowns, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”

“He’s a fucking liar,” Ed says, trying to hold onto his anger, but his voice cracks on the last word. “This whole thing, it’s all a huge fucking lie.”

Her frown deepens and she reaches across the table to cover his hand. “What happened?”

“He said…” Ed looks away, toward the window, though he’s not really seeing anything. “He said he was faking it. During the Games, when I was in the cave and had that infection,” he holds back tears thinking of the confession, “he kissed me to get sponsor gifts. He—“ His voice cracks as tears slip from his eyes. “He said he loved me and didn’t mean it. He lied to me, Mom.”

She doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t ask anymore questions, but simply takes one of Ed’s hands in both of hers. The look on her face is furrowed and downcast, and she kisses his hand. She holds it tightly against her lips as if Ed might run away from her. 

She sets it back on the table, but doesn’t let up her grasp. “I know you’re upset, and you feel betrayed,” she starts, and Ed focuses back on her, “but you are throwing away such an amazing gift. That boy cares about you so much. The way that he feels about you is obvious. He said what he said to protect you, not himself. Not a whole lot of people in his position would do what he did for you.”

She swipes tears away from her eyes, her hand tightening on his. “You didn’t see how you looked Edward, pale and gaunt, on death’s door before he got you what you needed.” She shudders a breath. “I couldn’t watch because I was certain I’d watch you die and I… I couldn’t watch that.”

For a moment, Ed is so, so tempted to believe her. He wants to believe that Stede cared for him, that he did everything he did to protect Ed. But why kiss him? Why keep kissing him? Ed pulls his hand back, crossing his arms, letting his anger wash back over him. He can’t believe his own mother is siding with Stede, that she’s just accepting this lie. He snaps back at her, “Why wasn’t he honest with me, Mom? That’s what I’m mad about!”

She sighs, letting her hands drop into his lap, looking at him with a heartbroken expression. “He was, he just didn’t know it yet. You didn’t see how it looked on the broadcast, sweetheart. I saw how he looked at you. He meant it. Even if he didn’t know, even if he says he didn’t, he did.”

Ed clenches his jaw and gets up from the table. He needs to be alone again to just process… Fuck, to process everything.

Mom half-stands, reaching out for him, but he draws out of her reach. “Where are you going?”

“I just need time to think, okay? I’ll be in my room.”

“Okay.” She sighs again, sinking back down on the chair, looking resigned. “That’s fine. And thanks to what he did, you have time.” Ed scoffs and pinches between his eyes. Mom gets up and, this time, when she reaches for him, he lets her hug him again. “Edward I want you to know I’m not trying to discount your feelings or make you feel guilty, but I want you to try and see it from his perspective, too. Stede did what he did to keep you alive because he does love you. And the Capitol loves a love story.” She chuckles. “Fuck there’s enough rom coms set in the Games to prove that. I’m not saying you have to forgive him, or say anything to him for that matter, but maybe there’s a reason he didn’t tell you.”

Tension leaves Ed’s shoulders as he relaxes into his mother’s arms. “I’m just… so fucking…”

“I know, love. I understand.” She pulls back to hold him at arm’s length. Her eyes are red; she must have been crying more than he thought. “But also please try to understand, he did what he had to do to get those sponsors. And I’m so grateful that he did because you’re here. You were going to die. You came back. I hate to see you hurting, but Stede brought you back to me, and I can’t be angry at him for that.”

Ed gets what she’s saying, he really does. But it’s so raw and he feels like a fucking idiot and…and Stede played him and made him look like a fool in front of the entire country, and he…he thought it all was real, only it wasn’t, so how much of it was fake? How is he supposed to tell? He still doesn’t know how he can trust anything Stede does now. And what is he hiding from him? There has to be something, but they tell each other everything, what could there be?

Ed steps back, pulling out of his mom’s reach. “That’s fine. I’m angry enough for both of us,” he says, and he heads out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room.

One Week Later

Stede hasn’t felt this alone since before the Games. Fuck, even then, at least he had Mary to occasionally talk to. But now there’s no one. Just him. Alone in this big house, Buttercup occasionally deigning to be pet. 

After Ed left without another word, Stede has barely left the house, opting to pay extra for the vendors he frequents in the Hob to send food to him. They don’t question it, not when he’s paying them so much—and he does pay them well, more than he usually does. And he guesses he gets some satisfaction out of that, helping these people that really need the money more than him, but it doesn’t quell the aching feeling he constantly has nowadays. 

The look on Ed’s face, the complete and utter heartbreak in his voice, it’s all Stede can think about. Every single time he shuts his eyes, he sees that look. And lately, every time he tries to sleep, he sees Ed being taken away from him. He’s being forced to watch Ed’s death over and over again, on a loop like the ones on the screens on Lucius’ show, and he just wants it to fucking stop.

Needless to say, he hasn’t slept much in the past week. Not even the few times he does leave the house to go out by the pond or meadow helps. Buttercup has barely left his side ever since his first breakdown. Stede thinks the cat can sense his agitation. He read about that in a book once, cats being used as therapy companions to help calm nerves. 

The most complicated part is, in a few days he’ll have to see Ed again. They’ll be stuck together on the Victory Tour for almost two weeks. He’d been so excited, before all this, to spend so much time with Ed, but now the thought just makes his stomach twist with anxiety. He desperately wants to see Ed again, but he knows Ed won’t share those feelings. Ed is still angry, still feels betrayed, and Stede doesn’t blame him. He knows he’s fucked this whole thing up completely, but he has no idea what else he could have done. If he hadn’t played up their relationship, there’s no chance that they would both have come out of the arena alive, so he can’t even regret the choice he made. He probably should have told Ed sooner. When they came out of there, he should have sat Ed down and been completely honest with him. Except by that point, Stede was in love. What did it matter if he started out uncertain, when he’s certain about how he feels now? But Ed doesn’t see it that way, and Stede knows he’s entitled to his own feelings.

He picks out a book before bed and wraps himself in Ed’s blanket. He can still smell the lingering scent of Ed on it. Notes of lavender and leather, coconut oil shampoo and rose hip body wash; he can practically see his face and feel his soft hair and beard. The book is something old he had found in the Hob years ago, an old romance novel about two lovers who escape their arranged marriages and go make new lives in the remote countryside. He sees himself and Ed in these words, them escaping and making a new life for themselves; a life far far away from the Capitol, from the Games, from death.

His video phone rings, and he almost ignores it before he sees Ed’s contact photo come across the screen. He sprints out of bed to the vanity, fumbling to grab it. He’s tried calling Ed six times over the past week and finally Ed is returning his call. Maybe he’s had some time to think about what Stede said, is ready to talk about it. 

He hits the accept call button, barely waiting before he’s calling out, “Ed?” His heart sinks when it’s not Ed’s face that pops up, but Elizabeth’s. “Oh.” He thinks his entire body must sag at the disappointment. “You’re not who I was expecting.”

Liz gives him an empathetic smile. She doesn’t even appear offended at his obvious disappointment. “I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Just wanted to check on you.” She pauses with a sigh. “Ed told me what happened, and I just wanted to tell you I’m not mad. I would’ve called sooner, but I’ve been so worried about him. He’s barely been able to get out of bed this week.”

Stede can feel his heart being ripped in half at that statement. He caused this, this is all his fault. He hangs his head, his hands clenched in his lap. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to happen.” He sniffs. “I promise, I really do love him, I just…”

“I know,” Liz says kindly, and Stede looks up at her in surprise. “You don’t have to explain yourself. What you did saved Edward’s life, at the risk of your own. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

Stede feels tears pricking at his eyes again, a familiar feeling in the last week. “Something…happened,” he says hesitantly. “There’s other stuff I wanted to tell him, but I was…scared.”

Liz doesn’t look surprised at the information that something brought this on, but she doesn’t push. She just gently asks, “Do you want to tell me?”

For a moment, Stede considers it. Badminton’s threats are hanging over his head like a blade about to swing down. It would be a relief to have someone else know, an adult who might know what to do. But…what if the Capitol is listening? He doesn’t want to burden Liz with the knowledge of Badminton’s threats, or endanger her any more than he already has. Badminton could do anything to her and Ed then. He shakes his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I just… I can’t.”

She purses her lips, but she’s not judgemental. “I understand, but I want you to know you shouldn’t be afraid of me. I know you love Ed more than anything. You don’t need to prove that to me.”

He does. He really does. If only it were that simple. “It’s not you I’m afraid of,” Stede says quietly.

Liz just nods. “If you change your mind, if you ever want to talk or tell me anything, I’ll be here to listen.”

For the first time since he saw Badminton standing in his living room, Stede smiles. It’s not a big smile, but it’s something, at least. “Thank you Liz. Really.” He sighs, glancing around his room. “Things have been lonely here, so it’s nice to have someone to talk to at least.”

“Well, I mean it,” she says. “Anytime, if you want to talk, you just give me a call. I can’t promise I’ll always be able to answer right away, but I’ll always call you back.”

“Thank you.” He hesitates, scratching the nape of his neck. “Is he… You said he won’t get out of bed?”

Liz sighs, her face creased with worry. “Edward’s always been prone to low moods,” she says softly. “This really isn’t anything new, just… worse. He’s…” She sighs again. “He’s hurt, Stede. And he’s never dated before. He’s never… This is the first time he’s ever had his heart broken.”

Stede hugs himself, guilt twisting low in his gut. “I’m sorry,” he says miserably. “I’m so sorry, I—”

“I’m not telling you to make you feel bad, sweetheart,” Liz interrupts. “I just know that you’re worried, and you’re hurting too, and I think you deserve to know.”

Stede nods. “I do want to know. Do you think… Is there any way he’ll ever forgive me?”

She smiles sadly at him. “He will. I know he will. He just needs time.” She pauses a moment, taking a deep breath and settling her face, “Aside from that, I want to see how you’re doing?”

“Oh, you know, I’m…” At the dubious expression on Liz’s face, Stede sighs “If I’m being honest, not too well. You know, we called every night, and sometimes would be on the phone until the sun came up. But now… This house is just too big and empty.”

“I’m sorry, Stede, really I am. I wish I could give you a hug. I know your home life isn’t great. You’re also affected in all this.”

“Thank you, Liz.” Stede shifts, pulling his feet up onto the chair, hugging his arms around his knees. “I’m touched actually that you called.”

“It’s my job as a mom to check in on my kids. You’re part of our family now, like it or not.”

Stede feels tears, real fat tears, in his eyes at that. He’s never had a “family.” He’s had parents, but they’ve never given a single shit what was going on in Stede’s life, the parts that didn’t affect them, at least. They didn’t bother to check in, but Liz did. The mother of the boy who’s heart he broke still cares enough about him to call and ask how he’s doing. He wipes away the tears collecting on his cheeks. “I’m part of your family? But Ed…”

Liz, leans forward. If she were here in person, Stede has no doubt that she would have taken his hand in hers. He can almost feel the ghost of it, of her warm skin, palms calloused. “You saved Ed’s life, and he cared enough about you to protect and spare you in the Games. Even if he’s mad, I can’t be mad at you for that. Ed is my son, but you are too,” she says firmly. “You’re only a baby, going through all this alone, I can’t have that. If I had my way I’d hold both of you on the couch wrapped in blankets and never let you go.”

And he actually laughs at that, like a real laugh. And she laughs with him. “I’m serious!”

“I believe it. You’re a good person Liz.”

“And so are you. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Their call doesn't last long after that. Stede is already tired and hearing her voice is making him more and more drowsy. They say their goodbyes and Liz promises to call as much as she can. Stede curls back up in bed and pulls Ed's blanket up around him. He'll be back with Ed soon enough. How things will be between them however, that's left to be seen.

Chapter Text

“Hello everyone, and welcome to the start of the 74th annual Hunger Games Victory Tour! I’m your host Lucius Spriggs, and with an unprecedented Games like this one, it’s only fitting that we also do something unprecedented for the Victory Tour. For the first time ever, I will be joining our two victors on the road as they go on their tour, providing on-scene coverage! 

“Today, I’m in District 12, heading to Stede Bonnet’s house, where we’ll await the arrival of Edward Teach, District 1’s victor and Stede’s boyfriend! And I know we’ve all gotten to see Stede’s new home in the fantastic coverage of Stede and Ed’s blossoming love for the last six months, but I am so excited to see it in person!”

Stede mutes the TV as John puts the finishing touches on his hair. Lucius is, from the looks of it, about five minutes away, and he knows that Ed will be only 10 minutes behind him. Jackie has gone over the schedule very closely with him. 

He tucks his hands between his knees to stop them shaking. He’s only 15 minutes away from seeing Ed again, for the first time since… Well, since. They spoke briefly a few days ago, at Izzy’s insistence, so they can be on the same page with how they’re going to portray their relationship, but it had been short and cold and business-like. Not at all like their calls used to be. Stede desperately wants to see Ed, but at the same time, he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to see Ed look at him differently, to treat him like a stranger, like someone he doesn’t love. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, mate?” John asks when he steps back to give Stede one last once-over. 

“Just nervous,” Stede says, trying for a smile. It feels more like a grimace. 

“Just give him time,” John advises. Apparently deeming Stede camera-ready, he sits next to him with a sigh. “He’ll come round. And anyone who knows you knows that you love each other.”

Stede nods. That’s, overwhelmingly, been the advice he’s received from the few people who know what happened, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. “You said it took you a while to feel the same way about Frenchie that he did for you. Did you ever… I don’t know, have problems like this?”

John smiles ruefully at him. “No. But then we were never in a situation like yours.” John shrugs. “If we had been, I might have done the same thing. I really don’t know.”

“Stede.” Stede jumps at the boom of his father’s voice from the doorway. “This is why I told you to stay away from the careers. You’ve put us all in danger, boy.”

Stede’s temper flares and he twists around to snap, “Oh, this is the reason? You somehow knew this exact situation would happen, Father?”

Father’s nostrils flare. “Do not speak to me like that, Stede Bonnet. I—”

They’re interrupted by the doorbell. Stede takes in a deep breath and sighs it out before standing. He shoots a glare at his father as he passes on his way to the front door. He pauses before opening it, carefully schooling his expression into something pleasant, something easy. It’s time to put on a show.

“Lucius!” he says warmly when he opens the door. He ignores the cameras flocking around him. “Welcome to District 12.”

“Stede!” Lucius swoops in, tugging Stede into a hug, dropping a kiss to each cheek. “We’re so excited to be here, aren’t we?” he announces, dropping the cameras a wink. “District 12 is such a fascinating place.”

“It sure is,” Stede agrees mildly. He steps aside so Lucius and his camera crew can come inside, shutting the door behind them. “Please, make yourselves at home. I know we’ll be heading out soon, but can I get you anything?”

“You can get that cat for me,” Lucius says. “I have to meet him.”

“He’s around here somewhere,” Stede says. “He comes and goes on his own terms. No promises he’ll make an appearance.” He ushers the group through to the living room. John has made himself scarce, but Jackie is there, as well as Stede’s father. 

Jackie stands to give Lucius the same two-kiss greeting Stede received, and then Father is standing as well, holding out his hand expectantly. “Lucius,” he says pompously.

Lucius shakes his hand. “Edward, how have you been?”

“Just fine, thank you,” Father answers back. “I trust you’ve been well. I hope we can put all the ugliness behind us from the last time we spoke. I’m sure you can imagine the stress I was under, what with Stede’s situation.”

“Of course,” Lucius says graciously. Stede can tell that his smile has gone stiffer, though. “I suppose that’s why you weren’t even aware of the conversation I wanted to speak to you about. Too worried to watch?”

Father’s eyes narrow, imperceptible to anyone besides Stede, who has kept an eye out for that expression his entire life. “Something like that.”

Lucius keeps smiling as he shifts his attention back to Stede, his eyes softening. “But we’re not here for that. We’re here to celebrate Stede and Edward’s victory! Tell me, Stede, are you excited to be able to spend a few weeks traveling with Edward? You haven’t been able to spend this much time together before.”

“Yes,” Stede says. He smiles shyly, brushing his hair back. “I’m always excited to spend any amount of time with Ed, but I’m really looking forward to this. We both have.”

“I’m sure,” Lucius says with a wink. “And he should be here any minute now. But while we wait, why don’t you show us around your home a little?”

Stede gives them a short tour as they wait for the notification that Ed’s arrived. It comes only moments later, Lucius subtly tapping at an earpiece before interrupting. “This really is a lovely home, Stede, and the work you’ve put into it really is beautiful. For our viewers at home, I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this tour short though, because we’ve got a message from our sponsors to check out really quick, and once we come back, we should have another guest!”

Lucius’ smile drops the minute the cameras shut off. “All right, victor number two is here, waiting outside with his escort and mentor.” He directs the cameras back into the living room. “When we start rolling again, Edward will ring the doorbell. I’ll answer, have a little catch-up, and then we’ll bring him through, and we can shoot your reunion. Sound good?” he asks

Stede swallows, his throat suddenly completely dry. “Uh, y-yeah.” His hands are shaking again and he shoves them into his pockets to hide it. “Yup, sounds great.”

Lucius narrows his eyes at Stede, years of interviewing tributes and victors and other famous people making him much more perceptive than Stede is comfortable with. “Okay, what’s going on? Something I should know about?”

Stede opens his mouth to answer, but finds that he has no words. His heart is racing, both with the thrill it always gets at seeing Ed, and the anxiety of seeing him as well, after what happened. Jackie thankfully steps in, ducking her head close to Lucius’. “There’s no time to explain now. We’ll talk about it later, on the train.”

Lucius frowns, looking like he wants to follow up, but before he can, one of his people announces that they’ll be rolling again soon, counting down. The second after the countdown hits zero, the doorbell sounds off again, and Lucius delightedly says, “Just in time! Looks like our visitor just arrived!”

He bustles into the kitchen to answer the door, and a few moments later Stede can hear a muffled greeting. The moment he hears Ed’s voice, he thinks his knees are going to give out. He throws a hand out to the couch to steady himself. He needs to stay in control, to act like everything’s perfect, but it’s so hard. In just a few moments he’s going to see Ed, to touch him, to kiss him, all the while knowing that he’s hurt Ed so badly, that Ed is angry and upset and betrayed and probably hates him.

Much too soon, Lucius’ crew is shuffling back into the living room, one camera poised on Stede, the other pointed to the doorway. When Ed comes through, Stede’s breath catches. He hasn’t changed much—it’s only been two weeks since they saw each other last—but at the same time, he has. He looks like he’s lost some weight, his cheekbones sharper, his puffy winter jacket hanging a little looser. His eyes look tired and it doesn’t look like he’s trimmed his beard since he was here. 

Still, he’s beautiful, and Stede can’t help the smile that comes on his face at the sight of him. He’s never been able to. “Ed,” he says softly.

Ed meets his gaze, and for a moment his eyes are distant, but then moments later they’re the same melting chocolate that Stede is used to. His eyes crinkle at the corners with his smile and Stede’s stomach jolts. Maybe he’s had enough time. Maybe he’s forgiven Stede. Maybe all this…this stress and worrying was for nothing.

“Stede,” he says, and then they’re crossing the room and Ed is wrapping his arms around Stede’s waist, Stede’s around Ed’s neck, and their lips meet in a soft kiss. Stede makes a small noise as his stomach erupts into butterflies. He never thought he would have this again, but Ed is kissing him like he always has, like he loves him, and Stede thinks they might just be okay.

“Okay, okay, you two,” Lucius is saying.

They break apart and Stede can feel the goofy smile on his face. He can’t even look away from Ed as he says, “Sorry, Lucius.”

“Yes, we all know you’re disgustingly in love,” Lucius says, but Stede can hear the grin in Lucius’ voice. “So, we’re all dying to know! How are things going?”

Ed looks away, but keeps an arm around Stede’s waist. “We’re good,” he says with a small smile.

“That’s it? That’s all we get? ‘We’re good?’” Lucius echoes. He rolls his eyes. “Come on, spill the tea! Give us some details!”

Ed clears his throat, shifting his weight. “Yeah, things are…things are great.”

Stede gives his hip a squeeze, leaning into him further. “We’re wonderful,” Stede says, finally tearing his eyes away from Ed. “Thanks to the generosity of the Capitol, we’ve been able to grow closer than we ever would have been able to before.”

“Just a 15-hour train ride away,” Ed quips, getting a laugh from most of the people in the room.

Stede knows that Lucius must sense something is off. He normally would push for more details, but he just says, “Fantastic! Well, folks, I do hate to say goodbye, but we have a train to catch. I know, I know, it’s just so hard to say goodbye, but you’ll be able to see us all again tomorrow, when we stop off in District 11! In the meantime, your 74th victors, Edward Teach and Stede Bonnet!”

The room bursts into activity when the cameras cut, the crew working to pack up their equipment and to begin moving everything onto the train. “Alright everyone, get your shit, we’re out in 15,” Jackie yells to everyone.

No one pays them any mind, and Stede is fully ready to turn back to Ed, pull him in for a proper kiss, when Ed drops his arm to his sides and steps away.

“Nice acting,” he says. His voice is cold, like it was the day he left.

“What?”

Ed’s entire expression has shuttered. The warmth is gone from his eyes, as if it were never there. “Almost thought that kiss was real.”

Stede’s heart plummets. So it was all fake. The warmth, the kiss, the way his hands tightened on Stede’s hips. “Ed, I—”

Ed crosses his arms, closing himself off completely. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Stede,” he says, and then he’s gone, out the door, already making his way back to the train.

From the middle of the room, cutting through Stede’s quiet devastation, Lucius loudly asks, “Okay. Who wants to tell me what the fuck is going on?” 

Stede starts to open his mouth, but Jackie cuts him off again, “Like I said, we’ll discuss it on the train, there’s no time for chit-chat right now.” She starts out of the room with carts carrying bags in tow.

Lucius raises his eyebrows at Stede in surprise. “Would it be crazy if I was, like, into Jackie?”

Stede isn’t in the frame of mind to answer. For a few wonderful minutes, he really thought that  they were okay. That things would be back to normal. But the way Ed’s eyes went cold when he looked at Stede hurt worse than when his own father stabbed him. It’s all he can do to just keep going towards the train and towards the end of the two weeks. He hopes and prays this will make things better with Ed, that they’ll reach some sort of middle ground. But with the way Ed’s acting, he’ll be lucky if Ed even looks in Stede’s general direction.

Lucius, with his keen ability to sense the emotional states of his interviewees, and his love for drama, is watching him closely, clearly picking up on Stede’s distress and connecting that to some sort of relationship drama vibe that they’re giving off, now that Ed and Stede aren’t attached at the hip. The gears in his head can practically be seen turning from the way his eyes are darting between the two of them as they load their stuff on the train. 

Ed finishes loading his things up first and disappears inside. A few moments later, when Stede’s own things are stored away and the train begins to move, speeding down the track toward District 11, he finds Ed in one of the common spaces, arms hugging around his knees. When he sees Stede, he makes to stand, but Lucius is already there, pushing him back down. 

“Okay, what the fuck is going on between these two?” Lucius asks with a huff. The hand that isn’t still on Ed’s shoulder is on his hip. For a moment, no one speaks. Stede stares down at the floor, though from the corner of his eye, he can see Ed looking up at him a mixture of sadness and anger. “Someone better tell me or I’ll start screaming!”

Izzy finally breaks the silence. “Stede broke Edward’s heart.”

Lucius gasps dramatically—Stede wouldn’t be surprised if his hand had flown up to his chest to grasp at it in shock. Stede just deflates at the harsh reality of the words, his heart ripping in two. In a small voice, still looking down at the floor, Stede says, “Not the way I would’ve phrased it, exactly. You make me seem heartless, but I was only trying to—”

“I’m just saying what Edward told me,” Izzy spits back. Stede glances up at him to meet his eyes, harshly boring into him. “It was all fake, all the kisses and declarations of love. It was bullshit.”

“Oh, come on,” Lucius argues, “we all know that’s not true.”

“Stede told me that himself,” Ed says, finally speaking up, and Lucius falls silent. “He didn’t mean any of it. It was all a ploy for sponsor gifts.”

Stede squeezes his hands together. “That’s not exactly—”

“Oh, I’m so fucking sorry, Stede, is that not what you told me when I saw you last? That you didn’t feel the same way I did?” Ed snaps.

“No, that’s… Not at the time, but—”

“And have you figured out when yet?” Ed asks, and when Stede doesn’t answer, he just nods, crossing his arms and looking away. “That’s what I thought.”

Stede won’t cry in front of all these people, he just won’t. He blinks back his tears, staring back down at the plush carpet covering the floor of the train. 

“Was it a good tactic?” Izzy asks, breaking the awkward silence. “Yeah, it was. Pull the heartstrings of the Capital fuckers? Inspired. It got both of you out of there.” Stede looks back up at Izzy. He knows that Izzy’s not defending him, even if it might sound like he is. Stede knows that there’s something else coming. “But you could’ve fucking clued Ed in a bit. You had six fucking months to say anything about it.”

Stede curls in on himself. How could he, knowing that they were in constant danger from the President himself? That at any moment there might be cameras or listening devices on them, that would confirm Badminton’s suspicions and put Ed and his mother and everyone Stede loves in danger. “I…”

“All right, that’s enough,” Jackie declares, stepping into the center of the room. “This isn’t all Stede’s fault. I might be partially at fault here.” All eyes turn to her, Ed’s included, looking at her questioningly. “When you were still in training, Stede was worried about getting close to you, since you were a career, and I encouraged him to pursue the friendship, to see where it would go. I knew that getting in good with a career might help his chances. And when Ed was infected and needed the medicine and all that, I put a message in the sponsor parachute that essentially told Stede to keep doing what he was doing, getting close to you, cause it was working.”

Ed’s expression breaks and he just looks up at her horrified. “Not you too, Jackie.“ His voice breaks as he says, “I trusted you.” He shakes his head and clenches his fists at his sides, rising in a fury, snapping, “I fucking trusted all of you! I trusted all of you with my goddamn life, and my mother’s life! And you all fucking lied to me!” He stares around the room, letting the accusation settle for a moment, before he storms to the other side of the room, stopping in front of their bedroom doors. 

Stede jumps to his feet, unable to stand seeing Ed in so much pain and not try to help. He follows close behind. “Ed, please, I did it to—”

Ed whirls on him, making Stede stop short. “No, don’t give me that shit. We can play happy couple for the cameras, but we’re done!” He slams the door to his bedroom with a sickening thud, leaving Stede standing outside his door like some kind of abandoned puppy in the rain. 

He looks back at the group, still gathered there speechless. Distantly, he feels himself shaking. He curls and uncurls his hands into fists, not sure what to do. “I love him and”—tears pool in his eyes and his voice breaks—“and he hates me.” 

He sees John start to get up to approach him, and he turns away, almost blindly reaching for the door to one of the other bedrooms. He needs to get out of here, needs to get away from everyone, everyone who probably thinks that he’s a monster for what he did. And he can’t let them see his tears.

-

By now, Ed is no stranger to crying on a train. He’s curled up on his side in the bed, the covers pulled up almost to the top of his head. He isn’t sure how much time has passed, but it feels like it’s been a few hours since he sequestered himself away. Almost immediately after he shut himself up in here, he heard Stede in the next room, his sobs muffled by the wall. Ed had been filled with the desire to go comfort him warring with a vicious pleasure at knowing Stede was hurting just the same, that his little plan to use Ed for his own survival had blown up in his face. 

Stede has quieted down now. Ed isn’t paying him any attention, of course. He can’t help it if the walls are thin enough that he can hear Stede in the next room over. He’s not fucking…straining to hear any tiny insignificant sound from over there.

He’s so busy not listening to Stede that he jumps slightly when there’s a knock on his door. He sniffs and clears his throat before hoarsely calling out, “Fuck off.”

“It’s me,” comes the unexpected voice of Lucius. “Just wanted to check in.”

Ed pulls the covers completely over his head, debating just ignoring Lucius or doubling down and telling him to fuck the fuck off. But right now, Lucius is the only person on this train, even Izzy included, who hasn’t lied to or used Ed. He’s the only person Ed can trust right now. “Fine.”

The door opens hesitantly and then shuts with a click. “Is that lump on the bed you, babe?” Ed scowls and sticks his arm out, waving it at the general direction of Lucius’ voice. “Hoo boy.” Ed feels the side of the bed dip. “Okay, how about we just pull the covers down a bit so we can maybe breathe?” Lucius asks gently.

“No,” Ed snaps, clutching the covers more tightly to him. 

“Okay, here we go.” Lucius is stronger than he looks, because despite Ed struggling to keep hold, he manages to yank them down. “And that’s me, hello!” Ed glares up at him. “So, how are we feeling?”

“Oh, just great,” Ed says sarcastically. “Really perfect. Never better.”

“Mm, yeah, I can see that.” Lucius sighs, leaning back on his hands. “So that got a bit messy back there, didn’t it?” Ed rolls his eyes at Lucius’ scrunched nose. “And do we think that this is more of a spat or a rupture with Stede?”

Ed looks away, turning back onto his side. “I meant what I said. It’s over.”

Ed waits for Lucius to try and poke and prod him to give it time, to consider it from Stede’s point of view, to assure him that Stede does love him and that Ed will forgive him eventually. But instead, Lucius just pats his leg and leans in to say, “Well, lucky for you, I’m fantastic at breakups.” 

Before he can even react, Lucius is getting up again and walking out of the room. And Ed can hear him entering Stede’s room, and not that Ed’s an eavesdropper, but it’s hard not to hear their voices. He stays still and quiet, straining his ears to listen. He can kind of make out Lucius speaking to Stede, but he’s not yelling like he thought he would. Stede’s crying again, that’s no surprise, but his sobs are more muffled now, like he’s crying into a pillow. Ed imagines Lucius is comforting Stede, making him feel like he didn’t do something monumentally horrible and stupid, just like everyone else around Ed.

He has no one left, no one to support him, no one to hear his problems… He’s fucking alone. Even his own mother wants him to make up with Stede, but all Ed can think about is Stede telling him that he loved him, over and over again, trying to pick apart when those words stopped being lies, like Stede claims. 

He’s surprised when Lucius comes back into the room, closing the door softly behind him. “I told him what you said.” 

Ed frowns. “What?”

“That you won’t be hearing any other apologies or excuses. That you don’t want to be with him anymore.” Lucius raises an eyebrow. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Ed turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He feels different all of a sudden. Things are done with Stede. His first boyfriend, his first love. Now his first break-up. Outside the camera relationship, they’re done. He should be happy. Or…or relieved or something. He doesn’t have to feel pressured to forgive Stede. “Yeah, I—I suppose it is.” So why does he feel so sad now?

The bed dips as Lucius sits down next to him with a sigh. “I was about your age when I broke up with my first boyfriend.” He pauses, shaking his head in self-deprecation. “Geraldo. He was every Capitol stereotype you could ever imagine, but I loved him. At least I thought I did. We would go out on walks around the city and talk about our grand future together with a nice house and maybe a kid or two.”

Ed sits up. Lucius is staring across the room, his eyes distant. “What happened?”

He glances over at Ed with a wry smile. “I found out he was cheating on me with Jackie.”

“Like…like our Jackie?”

“Yeah. I was angry, betrayed, heartbroken, I nearly burned his car down but Caesar told me I’d lose my spot at hosting if I did.” He rests a hand on Ed’s back, providing a grounding pressure, “You wanna know what I did instead?”

“What?”

“I moved on. We talked about it, and I saw how happy Jackie made him and I felt better knowing there’s still someone out there waiting for me that can make me feel like that. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.” Ed pulls his legs up and crosses them at the ankle. “You want me to just move on?”

“I want you to know you can move on.” With a regretful smile, Lucius concedes, “Now your situation is leagues different than mine, that’s for damn sure, but your life keeps going. Experience it.” He leans in, giving Ed’s shoulder a squeeze. “Allow yourself to be happy.”

Lucius gives him a small smile before getting up and leaving the room.

Ed understands what he’s saying. The world doesn’t stop for one heartbreak and he has to keep living. But now…now he’ll be doing that without Stede. Without the one person that made him happiest. Without the one person who was supposed to be his life, his future. He’s still hurt, yes, and angry and he can’t be with Stede right now, not knowing that he was being lied to this entire time. The only logical thing to do is to end the relationship. To be away from the person that hurt him most. But then why does the thought of not spending the rest of his life with Stede hurt even more?

District 11 isn’t too far from 12, and they near it within a few hours. They’re dressed by their respective stylists and sit in the main sitting area, waiting to enter the boundaries of 11. When Stede comes out of his room, dressed in a stunning midnight blue suit, silver threaded through to give the appearance of glittering stars, Ed has to look away. He can’t bear to see Stede looking so beautiful, and so sad. 

Ed is sitting stiffly in his own suit, white with gold threads. Stede doesn’t even try to say anything. He simply goes to sit across the room, keeping his head down, his shoulders slumped. Ed isn’t watching him—he’s not—but he can’t help but be reminded of the first time he saw Stede, after his name had been called at his reaping, standing on stage and trying to shrink himself into inexistence. 

Good, he forces himself to think. He hurt me, and he’s finally realized that there’s no going back. And I don’t feel sorry for him even a little. 

They both look up when someone else enters the room. Ed’s lip curls when he sees that it’s Stede’s father, looking as stiff and boring as usual. 

“I expect both of you to make a good impression,” his father comments from the other side of the room. “You are to show these people you deserve to be there standing in front of them.”

Deserve to be there. The idea makes Ed feel almost sick. They’re only on this tour cause they got lucky. They got extremelylucky. Ed doesn’t think he deserves this, to be gloating about being alive in front of a family that lost their 14-year-old girl to senseless violence. 

From the corner of his eye, Ed can see Stede rolling his eyes at the comment. “I don’t exactly call outliving an unarmed 14-year-old girl deserving of victory,” Stede comments, though his voice lacks his usual bite. 

His father glares at him, staring daggers straight through his skull. “That girl could’ve killed you. Think about that. Show you’re grateful to the Capitol for this moment, that you’re proud to be victors.”

If this is what Edward Bonnet is going to be like for the entirety of this Victory Tour, Ed will lose it before they even get to their first District. He’s not about to deal with bullshit from two Bonnets, and even though he is pissed at Stede, he doesn’t deserve to be talked to like that. He fires back, “I know how much you love dead children, but maybe drop it. He’s here and he won with me, whoopdie-fucking-doo. Now can we stop harping on whether or not he killed someone and not lick Badminton’s boots for five seconds?”

Edward Bonnet splutters for a moment before he seems to regain his composure. “You’d be smart not to make waves, boy,” he snaps. He slams his brandy glass on the table and leaves in a huff. 

It’s quiet for a moment again. Ed can feel Stede’s eyes on him, but he keeps his face turned away. “Don’t,” he says stiffly, and Stede doesn’t press him.

The room goes dark as they enter the tunnel that leads to District 11. Lights from the tunnel flash through the window as Ed stares out them. A flash of red in the tunnel makes Ed jolt to his feet, the painted outline of something on the inner walls of the border. It looks like a flower of sorts, but its dripping red paint gives the illusion that it’s been made with blood. “Did you see that?” Ed asks, and Stede turns his head.

“No, what—oh.” 

As the train exits the tunnel, Ed and Stede are treated to their first sight of District 11. They’re racing through an endless expanse of field, as far as their eyes can see, and throughout it people are dotted in amongst the crops. Ed had been expecting 11 to look something like this, but what he hadn’t been expecting at all are the peacekeepers patrolling the fields as well. They follow the citizens of 11 as they go about their work in the fields next to the tracks, armed with guns and in full peacekeeper armor. There’s fencing everywhere, separating the fields out into sections, and these are clearly electrified, warning lights flashing along the tops. 

This isn’t right. This is much more security than Ed had been expecting. From what Ed remembers of past Victory Tours, 11 has never looked like this. The Victory Tour is meant to be a festive occasion, and the districts are decorated as such, to the best of their ability. There’s no sign anywhere of the upcoming festivities and Ed has no idea what to make of it.

After a few long minutes of speeding through the depressing fields, security measures growing more and more intense as they approach the main city, the train reaches the station. It’s bleak and empty with no cameras to speak for, and hoards of peacekeepers. 

As soon as Jackie descends from the train, she’s scowling, glaring around at the peacekeepers. “What the hell is this? This isn’t very festive!”

“Shit,” Lucius says behind them, “I’ve been to 11 before and it’s never looked like this.”

“What does it usually look like?” Ed asks. 

“Well, to be fair I’ve never been in the winter,” he admits. “Jim usually has me over in the late summer during harvest time and it’s absolutely beautiful. But this.” He pauses. “This is just wrong.”

They’re led to the Justice building by the group of peacekeepers, Lucius branching off to meet up with his own film crew and do his show from another room. Jackie goes over the plan while John and Ivan fix Ed and Stede’s jackets and drag lint rollers over them.

“You’ll go out, give the speech I’ve written for you two, give praise to the Capitol and provide condolences to the families of the tributes.” She hands them both notecards. Ed’s sections are highlighted in yellow on his card. “For 11 that would be Kai and Twilla.”

Twilla.

The name sends shivers down Ed’s spine, the poor unarmed little girl that Charles killed in front of him. She begged for mercy, mercy that wasn’t given, mercy that Ed could have given, and it still eats away at Ed’s soul.

Jackie continues on, “After you’ve kissed and smiled for the cameras, we have a special meeting with Jim Jimenez set up so you guys can make friends.”

“And remember,” Izzy adds, more aggressively than Jackie, “you are to emphasize how grateful you are to have been given the opportunity to both be here.” He specifically eyes Stede then, giving one of his signature get your shit together looks that he’s given Ed too many times to count. “And, I can’t stress this enough, look good in front of the cameras whatever you do. Your personal bullshit doesn’t exist out there in front of the crowds and the fucking cameras. Got it?”

They both nod their heads. Ed sets his jaw and tentatively reaches for Stede’s hand to make the point. Stede limply grabs it in return. It feels foreign, to not squeeze Stede’s hand, to not interlock their fingers the way they always do, but he can’t get hung up on that. Things are done between us, it’s over, Ed repeats to himself. He can’t let himself fall for Stede again. This is purely business. He can act. Stede said himself that Ed could’ve been a good actor. And coming from the world’s best liar that means a lot now.

After a few final touch-ups, they’re deemed presentable and are brought to the entrance hall that leads to the main stage set up in the square. The mayor of District 11 is giving a speech before they go out, and i this room, it’s just them, alone save for some peacekeepers flanking them. 

Stede adjusts his shoulders and clears his throat. “You look nice today. I like your hair.”

Ed has to bite his tongue. He can’t say what he wants to, not now. He can’t have either of them get emotional just seconds before going out. “Thank you,” he says, keeping his voice carefully even. “Ivan helped me braid it.”

“I like it.” Stede looks up at him, and Ed has to fight the instinct to look back. “You always look beautiful with your hair back. I like being able to see your face.”

What the fuck, what the fuck? Ed’s will crumbles and he looks back at Stede, expecting to finally be able to see the calculating mind behind his eyes. But all that’s there is the same earnest affection that Ed has always seen, and he has no idea what to make of it. Does Stede actually mean that? Or is it just more lies?

The moment is broken by the mayor announcing, “Presenting the victors of the 74th Hunger Games: Stede Bonnet and Edward Teach.”

It’s time, time to put on the act. 

They walk out smiling and holding hands, acting like the perfect couple and waving to the crowd of people with hollowed out gray faces and fear in their eyes. They’re met with mild polite applause. It’s honestly more than Ed was expecting. Like everyone else in the other districts, the people of District 11 are overworked, underfed, and exhausted, but there’s more than that in the assembled crowd. There’s a low hum of discontent, of anger, rather than the typical air of acceptance and resignation. There are jaws set stonily, eyes hard with injustice, and the entire crowd seems to breathe as if only waiting for the signal to act.

In the middle of the crowd, on either side, are two platforms with massive screens. The faces of the district’s fallen tributes stare out at him. The boy, Kai, died during the feast but was an absolute beast in training, having the biggest arms out of anyone. And the girl… Twilla, the little girl he watched Charles kill in cold blood, treating her like some kind of prey. Her brothers are on the podium. All of them look under 10 years old. They’re standing with a District 11 social worker which is a sight seen all too often in the outlying districts. Even in 1, it’s common for parents to die in the factories and for their children to end up stuck in the orphanages until they’re of working age.

Ed steps up to the mic. He’s been instructed to speak first. He glances down at the cards Jackie had given him and Stede, clearing his throat. “Hello, citizens of District 11. As the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, Stede and I have come to celebrate our accomplishments and mourn the loss of the tributes of your district who fought bravely and sacrificed everything.” The words sit like a ball of lead at the bottom of his stomach. They feel insulting to even utter, but he has to.

Stede continues, “The tributes, Kai and Twilla, are prime examples of the bravery and sacrifice that makes Panem who we are. A united people, brought together in the pageant of the Games.” Ed watches as Stede gets the words out, seemingly forcing himself. Ed knows Stede doesn’t believe these thing. As angry as he is, as betrayed as he feels, he still knows Stede better than anyone. And the sentiment can be seen in the audience, their grimaces and shaking heads showing that they know both Ed and Stede don’t mean a word of what they’re saying.

“While I didn’t know Kai,” Ed adds, going slightly off-book, “I know that he spared Stede during the feast as he got the medicine that helped cure me of an infection. It was a decision that would go on to be the cause of his death, and for that I feel incredible gratitude and guilt.” He continues, “I did briefly know Twilla, who was murdered in front of me in brutal cold blood by another career tribute.”

He feels Stede stiffen next to him, squeezing his hand tightly, saying without uttering a word, Don’t go too far. And Ed restrains himself from saying what he actually wants to say, about it not being fair that this girl had to die. “Her death made me realize how lucky we are to have people in our lives to protect us, much like she did with her brothers, and what Stede did and still does for me.”

Without giving the words any time to sink in, Stede pointedly holds up the cards, continuing, “We are all of us united, both victors and vanquished, thanks to our Capitol.” 

Ed barely resists rolling his eyes. So he didn’t follow the cards exactly. What difference does it make if he says what he feels, rather than the bland shit that Jackie wrote. “Panem today. Panem tomorrow. Panem forever,” he finishes dully.

It takes a minute for the crowd to applaud, but eventually they do. It’s nowhere close to the raucous cheering they’ll get from the Capitol. Much more subdued. They applaud because they have to, because they have no other choice but to play the part of the patriotic citizens they’re supposed to be. 

With a start, Ed remembers they’re supposed to kiss, and he leans over to Stede, but Stede’s already way ahead of him. He places a light kiss on his lips, soft and affectionate enough that it shouldn’t raise any eyebrows for a public kiss. It’s familiar, like all their other kisses, and Ed still feels the spark between them, the pull to Stede that’s been there this entire time. But it’s all fake. The voice in Ed’s head telling him to not fall for Stede again is screaming now, its voice running ragged as he pulls away and again sees that same affection in Stede’s eyes. Ed has to tear his gaze away or risk falling victim to it again. It’s not real, he has to remind himself.

They smile and wave to the crowd. Once back inside the Justice building, they almost drop the act entirely before they spot Jim waiting with Jackie and Izzy. Ed feels momentarily starstruck again at the sight of them, just like he did at the wedding. They’re just so effortlessly cool, leaning against the wall with their arms crossed, long duster brushing their calves, hair spilling in dark curls over their forehead. Ed isn’t too proud to admit that he’s had a bit of a crush on them since their Games.

Jackie spots them approaching first, waving them over. “Here they are!” she announces, pulling them in for a hug. “That’s one done! We could do with a bit more sincerity next time.” She raises her eyebrows. “Maybe try to look less like you’re standing in front of a firing squad.”

“We might as well be,” Ed mutters, glancing back at the truly ridiculous amount of peacekeepers keeping an eye on them. 

“Yes, I did want to ask,” Jackie says, turning to Jim. “All of this…extra security. This isn’t normal, is it?”

Jim flicks their eyes across all four of them, then to the peacekeepers behind them. “It’s totally normal. Nothing to be concerned about,” they say shortly, before jerking their head to the side. “Let’s head out though. Like to get to know our newest victors a bit more, have a chat in private.”

Ed exchanges a confused look with Izzy before following Jim down the hall. It’s obvious that this isn’t normal, and the fact that Jim can’t speak freely about it here means that it’s something the Capitol—the president—is trying to keep quiet from other districts. Ed is burning with curiosity to find out what it is that’s being covered up here. 

Lucius joins up with them just as they’re leaving the building out a side door and Jim leads the group away from the main city. “Where are we going?” Ed asks, glancing around. The buildings are growing sparser, more space between them the further from the city center they get. “Your place?”

“Nah,” Jim says. “You both know what a Victor’s Village looks like. Thought you might like to see something special to 11.”

11 is dotted with fields and tree groves as far as the eye can see. From what Ed remembers, Jim’s extended family had quite a large plot of land. They had talked about it a lot in the interview for their Games, Lucius not wanting to dwell on their brother having died in the Games just two years prior. And they must still have access to it because they lead the group through a fence and into a sea of orange trees. They’re all dormant for the winter, their supply of oranges either long sold or on the ground rotting away. The smell of citrus is thick in the air.

Jim continues walking until they’re deep inside the grove. They carefully look around, searching for a hint of any cameras or anyone that followed, before finally stopping and turning to face the group. They sigh, their shoulders relaxing. “Thank fuck, I thought we’d never get out of there.”

“You want to clue us in on what the fuck is going on here?” Izzy snaps, crossing his arms.

“Is this why I couldn’t come for the harvest this year?” Lucius adds.

Jim’s mouth thins as they look over all of them. “Look, I don’t know what it’s like in other districts, but—” They pause, shaking their head. “It hasn’t been good here, not since these two won.” Jim points at Ed and Stede. They’re not accusatory though. If anything, they seem fired up.

Ed grimaces. Stede doesn’t seem to be too surprised to hear that, but Ed has no idea what they’re implying. He hasn’t noticed any changes in 1, certainly nothing like this. “What did we do?”

“Uh, you won the fucking Hunger Games with two fucking people! You forced the Capitol’s hand to let two people live. You took away their control, and made the president look weak.” They laugh in disbelief and, if Ed isn’t mistaken, a hint of pride. “You said, on national television mind you, that the Games aren’t fair and need to stop. The Games are supposed to be the Capitol’s way of keeping us in line. Of making sure we don’t collaborate, making sure we don’t team up against them. And instead of letting them pit you against each other, you fell in love and told everyone that you would rather die than play by the Capitol’s rules. You wanna know how people took that?” they ask, not expecting an answer. “They started destroying anything that belonged to the Capitol, protesting and rioting in the streets against the peacemakers. People got killed for their defiance, but they were fighting back.”

Ed’s mouth drops open. He’s known people that have talked about doing something. Taking action. Fighting back. But it’s only ever been talk. But if there have been actual riots in 11… Maybe in other districts, too… Everything makes sense now: everyone looking so angry, the underlying hum of discontent, and all the extra security, the spray paint in the tunnel. 

“They’re trying to start a revolution,” Ed says, fear and disbelief warring with his own anger and itch to do something, to join the fight.

“Not trying, man. It’s already begun.” Jim’s voice is fiery, passionate. “This tour, it’s only gonna sow the seeds more, and god knows what will happen with the Quarter Quell.”

Fuck, they’re right. With the Quell coming up, the president could do literally whatever he wanted, and no one would know. Every 25 years, the Games have a special twist, supposedly created by the original makers of the Hunger Games. The last Quell, the Quell that Stede’s father won, they selected twice the normal number of tributes from each district. This year’s could be anything, and the only people who would know for sure what it was supposed to be are the president and the head gamemaker. What’s stopping them from completely making something up? He could make an example of these revolutionaries and just kill them in front of everyone, using the Quell as an excuse. 

Ed looks over to Stede, whose hand is shaking, still clasped in Ed’s. He looks terrified, his face pale, eyes wide. “We… we have to stop it,” he says, and the immediate reaction from everyone in the small assembled group is disbelief and anger.

Jim swears in Spanish, and Izzy swears in English, his face going red. Jackie is clearly confused, but valiantly trying to calm everyone down. The only one not saying anything is Lucius, who’s watching with a carefully neutral expression. “We can’t let this happen, not if it’s our fault,” Stede’s saying earnestly. “People are going to get hurt.”

“People are already getting hurt,” Ed snaps, finally dropping Stede’s hand like it’s burned him. “People are dying.”

“People we care ab—”

“So all those other people don’t matter?” Ed asks. He remembers the kids he saw in 12, heading down into the mines. Him starting his own job in the factories at age 10. People sick and dying and injured because of the work they’re forced to do. Children made to kill each other for the entertainment of the Capitol. “All the people who have died so that Capitol citizens can have pretty jewelry and fancy cars and eat until they throw up so they can eat some more? They don’t matter?”

Ed feels a soft hand on his shoulder as Jackie tries to say, “Boys, really—” but he shrugs her hand off.

“Of course they matter!” Stede says. “But there are other things going on, things you don’t know!”

“Right, and I wonder whose fucking fault it is that I don’t know, Stede,” Ed says with a humorless laugh. “Who’s the one who’s been lying to me? Because it sure as fuck isn’t the Capitol, Stede. They’ve been very up front about how they’d like to kill all of us.”

Familiar tears of frustration are shining in Stede’s eyes, and Ed has to hand it to him. He really can commit to the bit. “Ed, please, if you would just let me—”

“I’m not going to keep listening to your fucking excuses!” Ed shouts. He waves off Jackie’s attempts to remind him to keep his voice down. “I don’t even recognize you right now. The Stede I knew would never suggest giving in to the Capitol, just lying down and letting them walk all over us. My Stede was a fighter, and honest, and compassionate.” He gives Stede a quick onceover, raising an eyebrow. “Who am I kidding, this is probably who you always were. A Capitol sympathizer, just like your father.”

Stede’s face completely shuts down at that. Without saying anything, he turns and walks away, his shoulders hunching over, hands deep in his pockets. “Oh, wonderful. That went so well,” Jackie hisses. “I’ll go after him. The two of you can’t be seen apart, you have to board the train together.”

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Jim hesitantly asks, “So, uh, trouble in paradise?”

Ed just shakes his head as Lucius quickly explains the situation. He can’t keep doing this. He can’t even make it through one visit without blowing up at Stede, how is he supposed to make it the entire trip without somehow someone who shouldn’t know finding out that they’re not together anymore?

“I can’t do this,” he says, and everyone turns to him. “Pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not? When I can barely even look at him?” Ed drags his hand over his face. “At least it’ll all be done when this trip is over.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Lucius says, “This trip? Babe, wake up.” Lucius approaches him, nudging his chin up so that Ed meets his eyes. “This trip doesn’t end when you get back home. You never get off this train.” He says it slowly, like he’s speaking to a child, and as he continues, Ed feels a dawning sense of realization and dread. “You two are mentors now. That means that every year, they're gonna drag you out, and broadcast the details of your romance. Every year, your private life becomes theirs. From now on, your job is to be a distraction. So people forget what the real problems are.” 

His words sink in slowly. He’s right. They held the Capitol hostage and came out victorious. And now their punishment for that is captivity of a different kind. Ed had hitched his wagon to a boy he thought loved him, and now that it’s all blown up in his face, there’s no escape. He’s in this for life. “So…so what do I do?”

Lucius sighs. “You’re gonna smile. You’re gonna read the cards that Jackie gives you.” He nods in the direction that Stede and Jackie disappeared in. “And you’re gonna hold hands and kiss and look like you’re madly, prepared-to-end-it-all in love.” He raises his eyebrows. “Think you can do that?”

Chapter Text

11/30 

I dreamt about Ed dying again. We were standing in front of the entire Capitol, and the peacemakers dragged me away to watch them kill Ed in front of me. I couldn’t look away either, no matter what I did. I could feel his blood on me. It all felt so real. And right before they killed him, he looked me straight in the eyes and told me that his blood would be on my hands.

He still won’t talk to me. I just want our lives back. I miss him. I miss him so much. 

I don’t want what happened in 11 to happen again. But I know it will.

Stede tucks his dream journal into the table next to the bed, shutting the drawer. He rolls off the bed, onto his feet, to get dressed for their next stop. He wishes he could just stay in here the whole trip, that he could just pretend to be sick or something and be left alone, but he knows no one would fall for that. He thought he could do this. Thought he would be able to be with Ed like this, to give him space in private and be together in public. But it’s so hard, so hard not to touch him when he’s close, so hard not to smile at him and call him darling and love and tell him he loves him. 

He can’t stop picturing the look on Ed’s face yesterday, when he had accused Stede of being sympathetic to the Capitol. Of being like his father. 

Being called a liar is one thing. He did lie. He did break Ed’s trust, and use him to get sponsors. Even if his intentions were good, he did betray Ed. 

But he isn’t a Capitol sympathizer. He isn’t like his father. Ed knew how much it would hurt him to accuse him of that. And he still did it anyway.

Ed had apologized yesterday, when they got back on the train, but he doesn’t think Ed meant it. He certainly hadn’t sounded sorry, and he wouldn’t even look at him. He just stood in the doorway to Stede’s bedroom, arms crossed, looking down at the floor as Lucius hovered behind him. Stede’s pretty sure Ed only did it because Lucius and Izzy made him. 

A knock on the door jolts him out of his thoughts, and he realizes he’s been standing at the end of the bed, staring down at the outfit he’s meant to wear. “Come in,” he calls, and he’s surprised at how tired his own voice sounds. 

The door slides open and John pokes his head in. “Hey. Stylist, reporting for duty.”

Stede smiles weakly at him, gesturing to the outfit. “It’s beautiful.” It’s similar to the one he wore yesterday, but a lighter fabric to accommodate the warmer climate of District 10. There’s also no jacket, which will leave him in only his shirtsleeves and vest.

“Thanks, mate.” John comes into the room, closing the door behind him. “I heard about what happened yesterday…” he starts.

Stede turns away, yanking off his shirt. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I get it, I do,” John says compassionately. “But that really must have hurt. We all know how you feel about your dad.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Stede says, stripping off his pants. He grabs the suit trousers, shoving his legs into them. “I hurt him. He has a right to be angry.”

“But that doesn’t give him the right to hurt you. Edward was out of line. He shouldn’t have said that to you.”

Stede buttons his trousers and pauses. What Ed said had hurt. A lot. But maybe he was right. “Maybe I am like my dad,” Stede says, staring down at the ground.

John snorts. “Please. You couldn’t be more different from Edward Bonnet if you tried.”

Stede hunches his shoulders, then shrugs. “What difference does it make?” He grabs the shirt and continues getting ready.

“It makes a huge difference,” John insists. “You have a right to be angry, you know. This whole fight, it’s hurting you, too. You can be mad about it.”

Stede buttons his shirt, his hands shaking. He isn’t mad. He isn’t allowed to be mad. He’s the one who did the hurting. He’s the one who fucked everything up. And even if it was for a good reason, even if he knows Ed would understand if he would just…just fucking listen for five fucking minutes…

He clenches his hands, struggling to take in several deep breaths. He isn’t mad, he reminds himself. He isn’t mad, he’s…he’s hurt and guilty and what Ed said was terrible, but it’s…it’s what he deserves, it’s… He’s not allowed…

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says again, his voice shaking, and this time, John doesn’t push any further.

The thought stews in Stede’s mind as he finishes getting ready, as he heads out to the communal area of the train, as they enter the main city of District 10. There’s much less security here than in 11, but Stede barely notices. He and Ed are given their cards to read and left to wait until it’s time for them to go out in a side room in the Justice building. Ed hasn’t so much as looked at him once this entire time.

He can’t… He…

He’s so angry.

Without looking at Ed, he hisses, “You had no right to say what you did yesterday.”

Finally, Ed looks at him. “What?”

Stede turns and meets his stare. “You shouldn’t have said it. You know how I feel about my father. It was cruel.”

Ed laughs in disbelief. “Are you fucking serious? I’m the one who’s cruel?” Ed turns fully, crossing his arms. “Stede, I have no fucking idea how you feel about anything.”

“Well if you’d let me fucking explain myself, then maybe you might get it.”

“Explain fucking what? I can’t believe a single word you say anymore.”

“There are people dying in the streets because of us—don’t fucking cut me off. Let me talk!” he snaps as Ed opens his mouth to interrupt, and Ed’s mouth shuts, his expression visibly taken aback. “You can be angry at me all you want. It was a shitty thing I did and it hurt you and I’m sorry. But if you ever fucking compare me to my father… ” his voice breaks. “I’m trying to protect you, protect us. You saw what I saw in 11, you heard what Jim told us. And this isn’t just an 11 thing, no fucking way. God knows what could happen if we so much as step an inch out of line.”

Ed says nothing, and for the first time in weeks, Stede sees a hint of understanding in his face.

“I’m sorry I snapped, I just… What you said, it crossed the line.” Out of habit, not thinking about the time John spent styling his hair, he sweeps his hair off his forehead, shuffling his feet. “And I know you won’t believe it no matter what I say, Ed, but I still care about you and love you. So fucking much. But we have to get through this tour, and this can’t happen every time.”

A silence hangs between them. Stede takes several deep breaths to calm his racing heart before shoving his hands into his pockets and leaving the room. He’s mussed his hair and needs to redo it.

He leaves Ed standing there, jaw slack in disbelief, and passes John and Lucius in the doorway, both staring at him the same way Ed is.

-

12/1

In my dream last night we were giving our speeches to District 11 again. This time, though, Ed didn’t read off the cards. He made a big speech about rising up, fighting back, not giving in to the tyranny of the Capitol. He pointed at me and said I was one of them. One of the Capitol. And suddenly there was fighting and rioting in the crowd, and Ed was cheering them on, encouraging them to attack the peacekeepers. 

A gun was placed in my hand, and when I turned to see who had put it there it was Badminton. He glared at me and I could hear his voice telling me that I had brought Ed to ruin, and that I defiled beautiful things. He pointed my arm to Ed and told me to pull the trigger and when I refused he squeezed it for me. 

I woke up when the gun went off.

I can’t keep having these dreams. I can’t keep watching Ed die. 

A knock at the door makes him look up from his journal. He closes it and slips it into the drawer of the bedside table. He isn’t dressed, and he doesn’t need to be. They won’t reach District 5 until tomorrow morning. They have the whole day off. He honestly wasn’t expecting anyone to come see him until lunch.

He combs his fingers through his hair quickly and pats it down before calling, “Come in.”

Ed is the last person he expects to slide open that door.

He hovers in the doorway, hands in the pockets of his sweats, shifting awkwardly. His hair is pulled up into a messy bun, his face looks wan. He looks like he maybe got less sleep than Stede did last night. 

“Can we talk?” Ed asks quietly. 

Stede shrugs. “Depends. Are you gonna yell at me and call me a liar and a Capitol sympathizer and tell me how much like my father I am again?”

Ed winces. “No, of course not. I…” He moves to take a step into the room, but pauses. “Can I come in?”

Stede pulls his legs up to his chest. “Fine.” He’s wrapped up in Ed’s blanket, and he doesn’t miss the way Ed’s frown deepens when he sees it. 

Ed takes a few steps into the room. “So, um… I…”

At his hesitance, Stede sighs. “You can sit down, if you want.”

Ed glances at the end of the bed before shaking his head. “No, I…I won’t be long.” 

Stede shrugs again. “Whatever you want.”

“Right. Um. So I…” Ed seems to be chewing the inside of his cheek as he thinks. “You were right.”

Stede raises his eyebrows. “I was right?”

“What I said… It was out of line.” Now it’s Stede’s turn to be taken aback. Is this an apology? A real one? Ed continues, “I let my anger get the best of me, and just said what I knew would make you upset like a fucking toddler. I’m sorry.” Ed stands there awkwardly for a time, head down, shoulders hunched, hands clenched in his pockets, shifting on his feet.

Stede is completely thrown. He had honestly thought Ed would never speak to him unless he absolutely had to. He certainly hadn’t been expecting a real apology. “Thank you.”

Ed nods at Stede, hesitating for a moment before taking the few steps back to the door. “So…so I’ll stop, you know, bringing all that shit up. You’re right, we’re in this together and we can’t keep fighting like that if we want to make it through this. So I can be civil.”

Stede nods. “Okay.”

Ed waits, as if he’s expecting something else, and when Stede doesn’t keep going, he nods again. He knocks his knuckles on the doorway. “Yeah, uh, breakfast is ready, so, um… I’m gonna go get something to eat. See you out there?”

“I’m not really hungry,” Stede says with a shrug.

“Right. Um, okay. Then I’ll just…” He points with his thumb to the car behind him.

“Have a good breakfast, Ed.”

-

12/2

After Ed apologized yesterday, I don’t think I dreamt at all last night. At least I can’t remember it. 

We just got back from the “celebrations” in 5. Things were different between us there. Ed was more willing to talk to me and look in my general direction. That’s a start, at least. I don’t know, maybe I’ve ruined this whole thing for good, but maybe we can be something like friends still. 

We got to see Oluwande again. Things weren’t as bad in 5, but he largely told the same story Jim did. The people in the crowd looked angry at us. I don’t blame them, I would be too.

A few days into the tour, they’ve gotten into a rhythm: they arrive, give the speech, spend some time with any victors their team thinks they should know, and then head off to the next District. After Ed apologized, their energy has been different. Not good or bad in a significant way, but noticeably different. Ed can look at Stede without scowling now, which in Stede’s mind is a huge step forward. And they aren’t talking per se, but they make small talk, if they’re waiting together or happen to be eating at the same time. 

Stede misses the easy camaraderie they had before, even before they were together, but this is leagues better than Ed trying to strike him dead with his eyes every time he looks at Stede.

They’re sitting together facing the window overlooking the coastline of District 4. It seems to go forever, a glittering blue ocean shining in the sunrise. Neither of them have ever seen anything like this. It’s like something out of a dream.

Stede rests his chin on his knees, taking in the scenery. “It’s beautiful. I’ve seen big lakes before, but this…” He can’t finish the sentence, lost for words.

“I’ve read stories about the sea out there,” Ed says, his voice sounding almost wistful. “My mother has always said we’re descended from people who lived in and explored it. Long before Panem, or North America before it.” Ed looks up, as if to find the memory somewhere in the ceiling tiles above them. “Wayfinders they were called, amazing sailors and warriors, the lot of them.”

Stede looks over at him. He can picture Ed almost perfectly on a ship, sailing out on an endless horizon and creating a life for himself. Whether that life involves Stede in it at this point is entirely a mystery. “In 12, I’ve heard stories of pirates who lived in the waters around there in the time of the North American colonies. They were criminals that went against the monarchy and fought with their navies.”

He feels Ed’s eyes on him. “Sounds like some people I know.”

-

12/3

I had the dream where I’m in the arena again, only this time, I was alone. Ed wasn’t there, Mary wasn’t there. Not even Evelyn or Jack or any of the other tributes. It was just me, completely alone. I could hear their voices just behind the trees, but no matter where I went, I couldn’t find them.

District 7 had to be cut short due to unrest in the crowd. All we did was read the cards we were given, and people started screaming at us, saying we were lying to them and to say what we really think. We had to be pulled away once people tried to storm the stage. I think Ed’s finally starting to understand our situation. I want to tell him everything, but I’m scared. I don’t want to put him and his mom in more danger than they already are. And I don’t want him to think I’m giving in to the Capitol.

Maybe Father was right. I am a coward.

7 was a shitshow. Everyone could tell from the moment Ed and Stede got out on stage what was going to happen. There was nothing they could have done. If they had been honest, it only would have fueled the crowd more, and put them in more danger from Badminton’s retribution. But according to Edward Bonnet, the entire situation is Stede’s fault. 

Stede hasn’t seen Father much so far this trip. He seems to mostly be keeping to the bar car or his room when they’re on the train, and when they get to the next district, he doesn’t accompany their group to the celebrations, wandering off on his own to hunt down whichever poor soul he claims to be friends with in that district. Stede doesn’t miss him one bit. 

But when he does decide to grace them all with his presence, he more than makes up for his prior absences.

It’s late, and Stede knows he should be sleeping, but his mind can’t settle after what happened that day. He’s never seen anything like it, not outside of the footage of the original rebellions. So many furious people, defiant people, standing up to the peacekeepers rather than cowering before them, like they do in 12. Everything seems to be reaching a fever pitch. He has no idea what to expect from the rest of the districts. Will things be worse, the closer they get to the Capitol, in the wealthier districts? Or are the people there just as angry and disenfranchised as the rest of the country seems to be? Stede hasn’t seen much sign of discord in District 1 in his visits there, not anything out of the ordinary according to Ed, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

He sighs, throwing the covers back and rolling out of bed. If he can’t sleep, he may as well get up, try to expel some of the excess energy still running through him from the events in 7. There’s a small training room on the train, nothing close to what the facilities are like in the Capitol Training Center, but they should serve his purposes well enough, considering he can’t head out to the forest like he usually does when he feels like this. 

The car is quiet when he steps out into the hallway. Everyone should be asleep, so he should have the run of the place. He pauses outside Ed’s door, right next to his, listening briefly for any sounds of movement inside. It’s quiet. He holds his fingers to the wood of the door. Things have been getting better between them, but Stede still misses him with an ache deep in his soul. 

He lets his hand drop to his side and heads into the adjacent car, which holds the training room. Inside, it’s nothing more than a few exercise machines and he heads to the elliptical. It’s not really close to what he wants, to being out in the woods among the trees, but if he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s on a hike. He can picture the woods back home, the trails that twist through the trees and over steep hills. If he really concentrates, he can almost hear the sounds of the forest around him, bird calls and the chirping of squirrels and insects, deer bolting through the trees. It’s a poor substitute for the real thing, but it’s something at least.

He’s so deep in his imaginary forest that he doesn’t hear anyone come in until they’re right in front of him. “Are you proud of yourself, boy?” his father sneers, and Stede startles so badly that he nearly falls off the machine. 

His eyes fly open, legs clumsy as he wills the momentum of the elliptical to stop and stumbles off of it. “What?”

“You have the entire country riled up, playing at revolution,” Father says. “All because you wanted a boyfriend. You couldn’t even do the courtesy of properly thanking the Capitol for everything you’ve been handed, everything you’ve been given.” He laughs. “And now the boy doesn’t even want you.”

Stede feels himself shrinking back and wants to scream at himself to stand up for himself, not to let his father talk to him like this, but he can’t help feeling that he’s right. The entire country is on the verge of a revolution because of him. Because he couldn’t just die like he was supposed to in the arena. 

“I… I don’t…” he stammers ineffectually. 

“You’ve destroyed the very fabric of our peaceful existence all for some crush . You cried on camera about how ‘scared’ you were to kill, as if I didn’t specifically train you to do so.” Father advances on him, getting right in his face. His breath reeks of alcohol. “And now you turn back on those words, saying you support the Capitol after all you’ve done. After making our president and the head gamemaker look like a fool by refusing to do what you were supposed to do. You’re a fucking coward. You’ve always been a coward.”

Stede bites the inside of his cheek, trying and failing to keep hot tears from spilling from his eyes. “What do you want me to say?” Stede yells. “So I’m a coward then! Everything I’ve ever done has never been good enough. I won the fucking Hunger Games, and somehow I’m still not good enough! I’m wrong when I speak my beliefs, and I’m wrong when I say what you want me to say. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?”

He knows what his father is going to say before he even utters the words. His father, who’s responsible for countless physical and mental scars on his own son. His father, who didn’t hesitate to kill 10 tributes in his own games. His, father who stabbed him right in the gut, maybe on purpose. His father, who said out loud that he didn’t care if his own son died in the arena.

“To hear Edward speaking those words without you at his side, like he was supposed to.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Stede tears his eyes from Father’s hate-filled face to see a figure in the doorway, stanced like they’re ready for murder. 

Ed.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Father hisses at him.

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Ed snaps, stepping into the room. When the light hits his face, his expression is murderous. “If you don’t shut the fuck up and get away from him, I’ll do it for you.”

Father straightens up, as best he can with what has to be half the bar car in his body right now. “What did you say?”

Ed strides forward, grabbing Father roughly by the shoulder and pushing him away from Stede. He puts himself in front of Stede, gets in Father’s face. Father has the benefit of being several inches taller and being built much more solidly than Ed, but something in the way Ed holds himself makes him almost imposing to a man nearly 30 years older than him. “You don’t have the fucking right to talk to your own son like that. And I will make sure you will never be able to do it again, unless you quietly back out of this room right now and fuck off for the rest of the tour. Hear that?”

Stede doesn’t think he’s ever seen his father look so stricken. He’s gotten by on bluster and the public’s knowledge of his own penchant for violence. He’s never had someone threaten him like this. And yet here’s Ed, the boy Father thinks should’ve won the entire Hunger Games on his own, telling Father he’s wrong. Threatening him against continuing to spew hatred and evil against his own flesh and blood. The boy, who his son fell for in what Father called “a moment of weakness”. The boy his son saved from dying in an arena meant to kill. The boy who had his heart broken, but still stands up for the one who did the breaking. 

Stede doesn’t deserve Ed.

His father splutters for a moment, clearly trying to come up with some retort, but Ed isn’t backing down. He’s still in his pajamas, a soft pair of pants with a light lavender shirt and his hair tied up and secure in a bun, clearly mussed from sleep, but he still looks like someone who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt someone who crossed him. 

Father sneers at them both. “You’re both fools,” he says, his words slurring together. “And you’ll get what’s coming to you.” 

Ed doesn’t move from in front of Stede until Father has stumbled out of the room, his heavy footsteps retreating down the hall, a coward in his own right for giving in so quickly. Distantly, they hear the sound of the door to the car sliding shut, and it’s only then that they both relax. 

The room feels much emptier now, even though Ed and Stede stand in the middle of it surrounded by gym equipment. And it’s not until now that Stede realizes he’s crying, when his voice breaks as he sobs, “I…I don’t know what to say.”

To his surprise, Ed pulls him against his chest without hesitating, wrapping his arms around Stede in the most genuine embrace they’ve had in over a month. “You don’t deserve that. He has no right to talk to you like that.”

Yes, I do. He’s right. But Stede doesn’t say out it loud, shaking his head. He lets Ed hold him, cries into the soft fabric of Ed’s shirt until he has no more tears to cry. His body had been thrumming with adrenaline, and he’s shaky as he comes down from it, all that energy going nowhere. 

He sniffs, leaning into Ed, the familiarity of his embrace more of a balm than any other remedy he could think of. “Are you still mad at me?”

He can feel a huff of a laugh against his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m still fucking furious. But that’s on hold for now. Those of us in the shitty dad club have to stick together…” Ed pauses, leaving them in eerie silence for a moment. “You’re nothing like him. I really am sorry for what I said.”

Stede pulls away, still holding onto Ed’s arms. “I forgive you. Thank you for that. I… Fuck, I just don’t know…”

“It’s fine,” Ed allows, pulling himself free of Stede’s hands. 

They stand in silence together for a moment, awkwardness descending upon them now that the charged moment is over. Stede feels like he should say something else, should try and bridge the gap between them more. But all he can think to say is, “Thank you. Again. You didn’t have to do that.”

Ed frowns. “Yeah, I did. I’m not gonna let him talk to you like that, Stede.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “You know, just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I don’t…” He falls silent, shaking his head.

Stede feels a frisson of hope flare in his chest. “Doesn’t mean you don’t…?” he prompts.

Ed shakes his head again and begins backing to the door. “Nothing. Never mind. It’s late, and we have District 9 in the morning.”

Stede’s shoulders fall. “Right. Yeah.” He glances away, looking down at the floor. “You’re right. I think I feel tired now.”

Ed nods, still backing away. “Good. Uh, I guess… I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah. See you then.” 

Stede watches Ed go with a small part of him renewed with a sense of hope. Ed had stood up for him, protected him against his dad. Ed had apologized again for what he said. He’d comforted Stede, even though he was still angry. And what had he been about to say, before he cut himself off like that?

Is it possible that Ed could actually…still love him?

-

12/4

I could barely get out of bed today after what happened last night. Father’s been avoiding me. Good. I’d be fine never seeing his face ever again. 

I dreamed of Ed last night, and for the first time in—god—months, probably, it was pleasant. We were out in the middle of the wilderness like one of my books, living together in a tiny cabin. We were laying together in the grass. He kissed me, like a real kiss. Not one of the fake ones we’ve been doing in the districts. We were happy together. I think we were married. 

I hated having to wake up.

-

12/5

I need this to be over. I can’t keep going. It’s just too much. We were in District 6 today. Things were quieter here. No signs of bubbling revolution at all, though the people were, of course, still angry and miserable. A little kid gave Ed a bouquet of flowers on stage and looked up at him with such admiration and said, “One day, I want to volunteer, just like you.” And the look on Ed’s face broke my heart, more than when we first fought. 

My dream last night was about the Quarter Quell. The tributes were all parents of victors. Mother and Father went in, of course, them being the only living parents of a District 12 victor, but it wasn’t them I cared about. 

Liz was reaped. Ed was devastated. He tried to volunteer in her place, but they wouldn’t let him. He didn’t meet the tribute criteria, of course. Ed had to watch helplessly as his mother was sent into the arena. Thankfully things were okay between Ed and I, and I was able to be there for him, but it was horrible. She made it a few days and…

Father always was ruthless.

-

12/6

We’re nearly to District 3, and I’m worried about Ed. He’s been keeping it together so far, but this is the district that Anne de Graaf was from. I know Ed still thinks about her. About holding her hand and comforting her while she died. I wonder if he still has nightmares about her. He did, before we fought. We’ll have to be careful here.

Last night I dreamed that Ed and I were never tributes. We stumbled upon each other in the woods one day. Ed had left District 1 with his mom and Evelyn, and I’d left 12 with Mary. We decided to stick together and eventually found a nice spot to start settling down, building some basic houses for us to stay in. I taught Ed how to hunt, and Mary and Evelyn cultivated a small garden with fruits and vegetables. Liz did most of the cooking with each of us taking turns to help out. Mary and Evelyn paired up quickly, moving into one of the houses with each other.

Ed and I had time to get to know each other, for our feelings to develop. Ed was patient when I told him that I needed more time, and we had plenty of it. We fell in love the way you’re supposed to, over time, learning about each other. There was no threat of death on us, no Capitol pressure.

We were so happy.

Ed is quiet as the train slows to come into the city proper. Stede hesitates before lightly placing a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?” he asks. Ed doesn’t say anything. Just looks at him with sad eyes and nods.

They’re ushered off the train and straight to the Justice Building as soon as they arrive. The atmosphere here is similar to that in District 11. There’s an air of a brittle peace, a temporary ceasefire here. There are signs of recent rioting: broken windows, garbage scattered across the streets, dried blood spattered here and there. Stede’s stomach is turning over on itself.

In the Justice Building, Jackie hands them their cards, reminding them to stick to the script. They both know the dance they have to do by now. Hold hands, smile, read the cards, kiss, exit. They both nod, and when Jackie leaves, Stede glances over at Ed. His eyes are distant.

“Hey,” he says softly, nudging his arm. “It’ll be okay. This’ll be quick. Just like any other district,” he assures Ed.

Ed nods, his fingers crinkling his card. “I’ll be fine,” he says, but the words are more confident than he sounds.

They’re introduced by the mayor, and head out on stage. The faces of the two tributes are on screens in front of them like the other districts, but he can feel Ed stiffen in his place, stricken by the sight of the girl who he held in his arms as she died. Stede grabs Ed’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Ed nods to Stede, and keeps his hand there. He clears his throat, “Hello, citizens of District 3. As the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, Stede and I have come to…” 

He pauses, his eyebrows knit together in frustration as he looks down at the cards. Stede feels his breath catch as Ed’s jaw tightens in familiar determination. He tugs lightly on Ed’s hand, catching his eye, trying to communicate to him to please just stick to the script. Ed glances from him back to the cards, and then to the crowd, shifting in the hanging silence. He nods, almost to himself, and pockets the cards. “We have come to mourn the losses of your two tributes, two young souls whose lives were snuffed out before they even had a chance.”

There’s a murmuring in the crowd and Stede feels his heart sink. The entire point of this, of all of this, was to protect Edward. To keep the Capitol—the president—happy so that he wouldn’t retaliate against the people they love. And here Ed’s gone and potentially ruined it all with just one sentence. He may have just signed his and his mother’s own death sentences without even knowing.

And yet, another part of Stede, one that has been sitting dormant for weeks now, can’t help but be proud. Ed may not know the threats that have been made against him, but he knows the danger associated with even hinting at anything less than complete support of the Capitol. He knows that his and Stede’s positions are precarious. And he doesn’t let it stop him from doing what he thinks is right. From speaking out against the position they’re all in, from taking a stand.

Stede is tired of being afraid, of pretending to be the good victor. He’s been a coward and it’s time for that to end. He squeezes Ed’s hand, crumpling his own cards up in his other hand. “But our lives aren’t just measured in years, they’re measured in the lives we touch around us. And we know it by no means makes up for your losses as parents, as friends, as loved ones, but Edward and I would like to donate a portion of our winnings to you, the people of District 3, every year for the rest of our lives.”

Stede can practically hear the horrified gasps from inside the Justice Building. He doesn’t care. He can’t be a puppet anymore.

There’s a stunned silence, followed by uncertain applause in the crowd. As far as he knows, no other victor has ever done anything like this, and he’s not even sure if they can, but he’s done it anyway. And now that the promise has been made, everyone will know that it’s the Capitol’s fault if it isn’t delivered upon. 

Ed looks over at him and smiles slightly, a proud look in his eyes that Stede hasn’t seen from him in weeks. Stede looks up at him with a small nod. He takes in a shaky breath, trying to keep his composure as Ed turns back to the crowd, but he can’t help but feel scared shitless at what could happen now that that’s been said. 

With an even stronger voice, Ed continues, “I held Anne de Graaf as she succumbed to the nightlock. I stayed with her until the end. I couldn’t leave her to suffer alone. I’ve been asked why I didn’t kill her in that moment, and it’s because she didn’t deserve it. She was too young, too gentle, and I couldn’t save her. I’m sorry.”

A hush falls over the crowd, charged with tension as they survey the two victors on stage in front of them. There’s a minute change amongst the peacekeepers standing guard around the crowd, a subtle shift in their stance that ripples through them. For a long moment, it feels like no one in that city square breathes.

Then movement to the left of the crowd catches Stede’s eye. An old man presses his three middle fingers to his lips before lifting them into the air, whistling a familiar four-note tune Stede recognizes as being carried by mockingjays through the arena. Anne must have been the one who gave them that tune. As if he broke through some kind of trance, the rest of the crowd follows suit, slowly at first, and then exponentially quicker until the entire gathered group of people in front of them have their hands raised in the air. Stede feels Ed shift closer to him and he looks over to see his eyes widening, his throat working as he swallows thickly. It’s jarring, after facing violence in district after district, to be standing in front of a nearly silent crowd, honoring them for their words. 

The silence lasts only a moment before chaos breaks out. The peacekeepers cock their weapons and head into the crowd to find the person who started the salute. Screams break out as people start pushing and shoving, some struggling to get out of the way, others fighting to protect the old man. Ed starts forward and Stede reaches out to stop him only to find he’s being grabbed, pulled back by a peacekeeper toward the Justice Building. Another peacekeeper grabs ahold of Ed, who manages to break free of the grasp, only to be restrained by another two. In the crowd, a group of peacekeepers pushes the old man through the crowd, to the front steps. 

As Ed is being dragged he’s yelling, screaming at the peacekeepers to stop. “Leave him alone! He didn’t do anything! Fucking stop!”

“Ed!” Stede cries, desperate to reach him, despite the iron grip he’s in.

“STOP!” Ed screams one last time before they’re both essentially thrown into the Justice Building, the peacekeepers manhandling them inside before turning back to the chaos outside.

The door shuts in front of them just as a gun is drawn to the offending man’s head, and a shot rings out. Stede screams, and Ed tries to lunge forward at the door again to stop it, futilely. It must already be barred from the other side. He’s pulled back by Izzy and Jackie.

Still, he struggles with the door until Izzy and Jackie pull him back. “What the fuck just happened?!” Ed screams. Stede can see tears running down his eyes, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s crying as well.

Izzy pulls both of them up and drags them upstairs. Stede’s nerves have never been higher. He feels like he could be the one on stage getting shot next. Like someone will jump out of the wall and snatch him, lead him to his execution. 

They fucked up. He fucked up. He had one thing to do, one thing to keep himself and Ed and everyone they love safe, and he couldn’t even do that. Keep peace in the districts. Convince everyone that he and Ed are in love. Protect Ed and Liz. His heart is pounding in his chest, his breaths coming short and fast.

Izzy slams the door behind them and locks it. “You two have a very fucking simple task—”

Stede cuts him off, “He can’t know this happened, he has to know it’s not our fault!”

Izzy, looking like he had been gearing himself up for one hell of a rant, is completely caught off guard. He glances between Ed and Stede, finally settling back on Stede. “Who?” 

“Badminton,” Stede gasps out. “He can’t know, he can’t. I…” Stede can’t catch his breath and stumbles, suddenly feeling faint. He feels strong arms around his waist, familiar arms, and he looks to see Ed right there, holding him up. “Oh god, Ed, I fucked up so bad.”

“Wh— Hey, it’s okay,” Ed says, and that, more than anything, makes Stede break down even more. Ed comforting him, despite the way Stede hurt him, despite his own tears at what just happened.

“Badminton probably already knows,” Izzy says and Stede and Ed both turn their attention back to him. “He was probably watching the whole thing.”

“No.” Stede chokes on a sob as it surges up from his throat. “No, he can’t… We have to…” Stede turns back to Ed, his hands gripping the lapels of Ed’s jacket. “Ed, we have to call your mom. We have to make sure she’s okay.” Ed is staring at him like he’s crazy, and Stede doesn’t get why he’s the only one who seems to realize what exactly they just did. “Ed, we have to check on your mom!”

“What are you talking about?” he finally asks. “She’s at home. She’s fine.”

“No, she’s…she’s in danger,” Stede insists. “I fucked up, and he’s going to hurt her because I couldn’t keep it together, and—”

“Stede,” Ed says firmly, “okay, stop, stop.” He takes Stede’s shoulders, ducking his head down the few inches between them to be level with Stede’s eyeline. “Take some deep breaths, and start from the beginning.”

Stede bites the inside of his cheek and nods sharply, trying to slow his breath down. Ed’s hands on his shoulders help to ground him, the heat of them soaking through the fabric of Stede’s cotton shirt. Finally, he feels his heart start to slow and his mind start to clear up enough for him to think and formulate an explanation. And finally, after more than a month, it just spills out of him. “Badminton confronted me at my house last month. He said that what I did, offering you the berries, that it threatened to take down the entire system. He said that he didn’t believe we were actually in love, that we were just faking it to start a revolution. He threatened to kill you and your mom, Ed, if we didn’t manage to stop the whole thing from falling apart.”

Understanding dawns on Ed’s face as he starts to piece it all together. “Is that why…?” 

Stede nods. “I didn’t know what to do! He confronted me literally right before I was supposed to leave for your house.”

“Stede, what…” Ed’s fingers tighten on his shoulders as his brows come together in frustration. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?” he snaps.

“I was scared!” Stede answers. “I didn’t know what to do! He…he threatened your life, your mom’s life, the lives of everyone we care about. I didn’t know what to do,” he says again. Desperate tears spill from his eyes. “I had to figure out how to tell you. I was going to tell you, I was! But then you showed up and…and I hadn’t figured out what to do yet, and I…I knew I had to tell you everything, and I just…I fucked everything up instead.” He wipes at his eyes as Ed and Izzy just stare at him in disbelief. “This is all my fault, I ruin everything I touch.”

They can hear the growing violence outside, a visceral reminder of all the damage Stede has done, and Stede can’t take anymore. He breaks down, dropping to the floor in tears. He buries his head in his knees. He can’t face Ed now, not like this. His voice is muffled as he says, “I don’t deserve you, I ruined you, I ruined what we had.”

He feels Ed get down next to him on the ground, a hesitant hand on his elbow. “You didn’t ruin me. Did he tell you that?”

“Him, my father, just… I shouldn’t even be here.” He sniffs, shaking his head, tightening his arms around his legs. “It’s like Father said. You’d be better off on your own without me dragging you down.”

Stede can feel tentative hands wanting to touch him, to comfort him. Izzy hisses down, “Edward, don’t, you remember what he did to you.”

“Fuck off, Iz, we’ll meet on the train.”

“Ed.”

“ Fuck off.”

Stede hears Izzy’s footsteps retreating, the slam of the door behind him abruptly cutting out the sound. As soon as they’re alone together, Ed fully takes Stede into his arms. He tucks Stede’s head into his chest, beneath his own, his cheek resting on the crown of Stede’s head. Stede leans into Ed, into the familiarity of his chest, a place he was afraid was lost to him forever. 

He breathes in, the comforting scent of Ed sweeping through him, calming his anxiety, comforting his fears. “I wanted to tell you so bad, but I was a coward.”

“You’re not a coward, Stede,” Ed says. His hand gently rubs up and down Stede’s arm.

Stede shakes his head, burying himself deeper into Ed’s hold. “Yes, I am, I’m a fucking useless, weak—”

Ed pulls back and coaxes his head up, cutting him off with a kiss. It’s a real kiss, not one of the fake polite ones for the cameras they’ve been doing this whole tour. Ed’s mouth moves against his softly and Stede melts into it, more tears escaping out of his eyes. He unwraps himself from the tight ball he’d turned himself into, his hands slipping around Ed to squeeze him back, holding him like he could disappear the second he opens his eyes again. They part, and Stede finally opens his eyes. Ed is still there, his eyes also bloodshot and wet.

Stede’s hand is shaking as he brings it to cup Ed’s jaw. “Ed…did you…did you mean…”

He chuckles slightly. “I had to shut you up. None of that is true.” He squeezes Stede again, kissing his forehead. “We’ll figure this out. I’m still well pissed that you didn’t tell me earlier, but I don’t want to be angry anymore.”

He’s overcome with relief, smiling softly, his eyes no doubt full of hope. “I miss you so much.” 

“I miss you too,” Ed says. They rest their foreheads together for a long moment, breathing together. Stede feels some of the tension seep out of his body as he relaxes into Ed’s arms.

They don’t say they love each other, not yet. Stede doesn’t want to go fast again. He doesn’t want to scare Ed away. And he doesn’t think they’ve healed enough for that, not yet. They make their way back downstairs. Jackie and Izzy are waiting for them, snapping at them for going off-script, Jackie informing them that they’re behind schedule now, herding them back in the direction of the car that will take them back to the train. Later, Stede will sit with Ed as he calls his mother to check on her and Stede will feel even more relief when she answers, clearly unharmed, asking them if they’re all right, and what happened. Apparently, the live feed had cut out as Ed and Stede were being dragged back to the Justice Building.  

But for now, they aren’t worried about the scolding or what comes next. They’re too focused on the feelings of each other's hands clasped together as they walk back to the train.

Chapter Text

12/7

All I can think about is how he kissed me, I want to believe we’re back to how we were but…

A scream cuts through Stede’s thoughts and he jumps, a line of ink crossing the page from where his pen was still placed on the paper. It comes from the room next door, from Ed’s room. Stede is up on and out the door within seconds, his journal tossed carelessly on the bed, not even bothering to put a robe on over his bare chest and shorts. When Ed’s door slides open, he’s prepared for the worst, but it’s just Ed in there, pushing himself up to sit, rubbing his eyes.

Adrenaline is pumping through him and he presses his hand to his chest to try and calm himself. “Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ed says groggily. His hair is half out of its loose ponytail and he slips the elastic off, shaking it out. He sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. “It’s just a nightmare.”

“Oh. Okay.” Stede sighs out in relief, glad Ed wasn’t being attacked or something, but his heart aches at the idea of Ed suffering through the same kinds of nightmares Stede gets. He knows Ed gets them, he’s just never witnessed one. Just like Stede’s nightmares tend to go away when he’s with Ed, Ed’s said the same thing happens with him. “I get ones like those too.”

He hovers awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, wanting to do something, to offer a hug or an ear or just a comforting presence, but he’s not sure at this moment whether that would be welcome. “Okay. Um, goodnight.”

But just as Stede turns to leave, Ed calls out, “Wait, Stede.” He pauses in the doorway, glancing back. Ed’s face is screwed up in distress. He looks so small on the bed right now, alone, curling in on himself, shoulders slumped. “Could you stay here with me, please? I don’t wanna be alone.”

Stede blinks back his surprise and the hope that swells in him. “Of course.”

He tentatively lays down on his back next to Ed, not sure if Ed even wants him to be close. He’s close to the edge, almost close enough to be in danger of falling off. After a moment of silence between them, Ed reaches out for his hand, his fingers curling around his palm. Stede shifts a bit so he can turn his head to look at Ed, giving his hand a squeeze.

“I had a dream that they killed you, in front of me,” Ed says, his voice almost a whisper. “I tried to stop it but…but I couldn’t.” Ed chokes up, and it tears Stede’s heart into teeny tiny shredded pieces to hear the pain and fear in his voice. Stede knows exactly how he feels. He’s been having the same nightmares for months now. He doesn’t want to think how long Ed has been having them. 

“Well I’m here,” he says softly. He grazes his thumb along Ed’s knuckles. “They haven’t gotten me yet.”

Ed shifts, winding up slightly closer. Stede isn’t sure if that’s on purpose or an accident, but either way he’s not going to draw attention to it, just in case Ed moves back. “I’d kill anyone that even tried.”

Stede smiles. “I believe it. I would too.”

They lay there in silence for a while, Ed slowly drawing Stede closer to him until his head is resting on Stede’s chest. They’ve been quiet for so long that Stede is nearly starting to drift off again when Ed whispers, “I’m sorry for what I said.” Stede glances down to see Ed staring up at the ceiling and blinking away tears. “In 11. It wasn’t fair to you. I was such a fucking dick.”

“You weren’t a dick,” Stede whispers back, “life’s a dick.” Stede wraps his arm more firmly around Ed’s back, holding him secure against him. He chances a kiss to the top of his head and is rewarded with a pleased hum and Ed snuggling down deeper.

They both slip into a dreamless sleep, clutching each other so close, if one were to get up first the other would instantly know. 

They’re finally woken by a knock at the door, and Jackie’s booming voice behind it calling, “Stede, I’m guessing you’re in there with Ed?”

He looks down groggily at his sleeping partner, who’s burying his head into Stede’s shoulder in an attempt to get more sleep. “Yeah.”

“Alright, well we’re almost to 8. Both of you need to get dressed and meet Izzy and I in the dining car. Five minutes. We need to talk.” Her heels click away back down the hallway.

Stede stretches as Ed grumbles into his neck, clinging onto him like an octopus. “Ed, we’ve gotta get up so they can yell at us about yesterday.”

“No,” Ed whines, stretching the vowel out for several seconds. “Tired. Comfy. Warm.”

Stede can’t help the fond smile he gets at Ed’s chronic bad morning attitude. It’s wonderful to have him like this again, in Stede’s arms, burrowing in as deep as he can without actually phasing into Stede’s body. Yesterday morning, Stede wasn’t certain he would ever have this again. “I know, love, I don’t want to get up either, but you know what Jackie’s like if we’re late.”

There’s a pause and then Ed lifts his head, looking more awake than he was only three seconds ago. “You… You called me…”

It takes a moment for Stede to understand what Ed’s referring to, and when he does, he sits up quickly, displacing Ed. “Oh, I…I’m sorry, Ed, I didn’t even realize…” He spins around to see Ed looking at him with big eyes. “It was just habit, but it’s…it’s probably too soon for terms of endearment like that, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s…” Ed clears his throat, obviously trying not to sound too eager, and it makes Stede smile, his stomach fluttering. “It’s okay. It’s good.”

“Okay,” Stede says, still smiling, feeling slightly dopey.

“Can we…” Ed’s fingers fidget with the blanket, twisting it and bunching it and twirling it around his finger. “Can we take this slow, though?” he asks hesitantly.

If taking it slow is what it takes to get Ed back, Stede will do it in a heartbeat. “Of course.”

They get ready quickly, Stede returning to his room to retrieve the outfit that’s been prepared for him. Ed is waiting for him when he comes out of his room and Stede can’t help the thrill that runs through him at the sight of him. 

Jackie and Izzy are sitting on separate couches with crossed arms and scowling faces when Ed and Stede walk in the room. Izzy glances down at their hands entangled in each other and rolls his eyes. “Oh look, our star-crossed lovers finally made up.”

“Save it.” Ed snaps. He leads Stede to the dining table where a spread of breakfast foods has been laid out. They both sit and begin filling up their plates.

“Both of you shut it,” Jackie sighs, her tapping foot making her impatience with the lot of them clear. “We need a fucking plan.”

“After your little stunt yesterday, the entire country’s gone to shit,” Izzy says. “President’s fucking pissed.”

Stede feels a nervous twist in his stomach at that. He stares down at his plate, the news easily deflating the happiness he’d felt since Ed had kissed him. He feels Ed squeeze his hand reassuringly and he gives him a thankful smile.

Jackie snaps her fingers in their direction. “ Hey. Pay attention,” she scolds. “We need a distraction. We’ll be in the Capitol in four days, we need something fast.”

“We need to bring the focus back onto you as a couple,” Izzy says. “Make people think you’re just two idiot kids in love, that you didn’t know what you were doing.”

Ed stabs his fork into a sausage. “Well, short of fucking making out in front of the districts, I don’t know what else we can do to be more convincing,” he says, then takes a bite.

Stede sets his fork down, having only taken a few bites of his own omelet. There’s only one thing Stede can think of, one thing that would show the districts—and Badminton—that he and Ed are in this for the long haul. He dreads the thought of bringing it up, though, especially after Ed said he wants to go slow. But it’s the only option. 

“We could get married.” Ed whips his head around to stare at him, nearly choking on his food. “It wouldn’t be real,” Stede rushes to say, “just for the cameras, but a wedding would keep them distracted. At least for a bit.”

Everyone’s silent for a moment, and then Jackie nods thoughtfully. “That’s actually not too bad, people eat up victor weddings.” She bites out an ironic laugh as she continues, “Zheng Yi Sao and her late husband’s wedding had a larger viewership than the Hunger Games that year.”

“Yeah, and his funeral when she killed him got even more,” Izzy comments, but that’s just a rumor. Her husband died under mysterious circumstances, disappearing from his work in the middle of the day, and she never took another partner after him. Stede never believed she’d killed him. There were cameras everywhere and she would’ve been executed for it, even being a victor.

Ed drops his fork onto his plate, the clink of metal against the ceramic loud in the car. He smacks his knees, and gets up with a huff. “Fine, let’s do that.” He walks to the window, crossing his arms, staring out despondently as the hills of District 8 speed past. Stede gets up to join him. Ed doesn’t even look up, though he does offer a sigh and admits, “I’m not mad at you right now, just so you know.”

Stede feels a tad bit reassured at that and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m mad at…all of this really,” Ed continues. He stares unseeingly out the window at the passing scenery. “I thought if— when we got married, it’d be less…” He searches for the right word. “Less forced, you know?”

“God yeah, I agree.” Stede slumps against the windowsill. “It’s the only thing that’ll distract them, at least for now. We’re trapped.”

“Yeah.” For a moment neither of them move, and then Ed glances down at him. “There could be worse people to be trapped with,” he says softly.

Stede leans his shoulder against Ed’s, smiling. “Yeah?”

In answer, Ed nudges his shoulder back before continuing, “I’ve dreamt about our wedding.”

Stede’s heart flutters in his chest. “So have I,” he says. “Last time I dreamt it, we had it in 12 in the early summertime. We were in the meadow.” He remembers the scene easily, despite having had it several months ago. “You had a bouquet of wildflowers and your hair was up and dotted with flowers and you… Fuck, you had on the most gorgeous dress.” Stede pictures it for several seconds longer before realizing that Ed hasn’t said anything. He shakes his head. “Sorry, I kinda…kinda went off.” He looks up and sees Ed staring at him with glassy eyes.

“That’s just like mine.” He hooks his pinky finger with Stede’s, swinging them between the two of them. They both know what they want, and god knows they won’t get the idyllic discreet wedding they want, in favor of the massive opulent Capitol wedding that the president will pay for. But they can still dream.

“OH MY GOD?!” 

They both jump as Lucius screeches behind them. They turn and he runs towards them, enveloping them both in a hug. “You guys are getting engaged!” He pulls back with a huge grin on his face. “Oh, have I got a ring for you to use. Be right back!” Lucius runs back to his room to rifle through his jewelry box, leaving just as quickly as he appeared. 

Ed looks up at Stede with a slight smile. “Didn’t even ask my favorite gemstone, little fucker.”

“And what would that be?” With a smirk, he says, “For future reference of course.”

Ed puffs out a laugh. “Amethyst. Mom used to cut gems for jewelry for a bit back when I was in elementary school, before she moved on to fabrics. It was always my favorite.” He pulls a gold necklace out of the inside of his shirt. The lavender-colored gem isn’t expertly cut; it’s quite raw actually, with harsh edges and unpolished faces. “She brought this home one day, one of the rejects apparently, snuck it in her pocket. If she’d gotten caught, she could have lost her hand for stealing, but she still took the chance, just to give it to me. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.” 

“It’s lovely.” Stede runs his thumb over the rough edge of the stone. “I’ve always thought purple suits you.”

Ed bumps Stede’s shoulder. “My favorite color of course, but you know that.”

Lucius comes running back into the room, out of breath with a tiny box in his hand. “I got this a year ago, when I was feeling impulsive and nearly proposed to this guy I knew for like three seconds, but,” he opens the box, an ornate diamond ring, cut in the shape of a teardrop with other small diamonds surrounding it sits in the middle, “I think it’s perfect for you two.”

It’s perfect for what the cameras need, for what they want the president to see. Is it perfect for them? No.

“Thanks, Lucius,” Stede says. “Means a lot.”

“Oh no need, I fucking love victor weddings.”

Jackie barks out a laugh behind them. If just the mention of them getting engaged can distract Lucius, who actually knows about their rift, like this, then Jackie’s right. This’ll work.

District 8 is silent aside from light applause as they come out. No doubt they saw what happened yesterday and were threatened with death if they so much as stepped an inch out of line. Ed takes a deep breath. They have new cards prepared, new lines that Jackie wrote to account for the plans they’ve made. 

He can see the bulge of the ring in Stede’s pocket out of the corner of his eye. It burns a hole through his brain. Funny how a symbol of love and infatuation could feel so wrong and perverse now given the situation. Not so long ago, he would have been thrilled for Stede to get down on one knee in front of him. He’d never really thought about marriage before. To be honest, he assumed he wouldn’t live long enough to find anyone worth marrying. But all that changed when he met Stede, when they made it out of that arena together. He’s been dreaming—literally—about marrying Stede. But not right now. Not so soon. And not right after they’ve only just gotten back together. 

But Stede was right. It’s their last and only option. Ed will just have to suck it up and deal with it, yet again.

“Hello, citizens of District 8.” Ed’s voice booms around the open square through the speakers. “I, Edward Teach, along with Stede Bonnet, are honored to be the victors of this year’s Hunger Games. And we salute the bravery and sacrifice of your fallen tributes. Their deaths, while tragic, were not in vain, but for the greater good of Panem.”

Stede picks up his portion, “But our lives aren’t just measured in years, they’re measured in the lives we touch around us.” It's the same line he said in District 3, but now it has the added detail of him looking up at Ed, with the wistful dreamy look they rehearsed before coming out. Ed smiles back, a reaction that was not explicitly in the script but feels right anyway. “Edward and I, we never expected to find each other in such a place as the arena, but it’s led us here together. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He gives an imperceivable look to Ed, telling him it’s coming.

It’s time to pull out the best acting of his life.

“I hate to go off script,” Stede says, and Ed gives him a confused frown, “but there’s something I’ve wanted to ask for a long time.” Stede turns fully to face Ed, taking a deep, steadying breath. Ed has to hand it to him, he’s really selling the nervous, hopeful look on his face. When Stede gets down on one knee, the entire crowd seems to gasp as one. Ed lets his mouth fall open in shock. “Edward Teach.” Stede smiles softly, lowering his voice as he intimately, like it’s just for the two of them, corrects himself, “Ed.” He opens the jewelry box and the diamonds sparkle against the bright light of the sun. “Will you marry me?”

And for a moment, Ed swears it’s just them. No crowd, no escorts breathing down their necks, no president watching their every move. It’s just Stede, it’s just Ed, and they’re just two young men who found each other and fell in love, and it’s no more complicated than that. For a moment, he can just pretend that this is real, that Stede is asking because he loves Ed, because he wants to spend the rest of his life with Ed, and not because they have no other choice. 

It’s that part of him that whispers, “Yes,” rather than what he’s supposed to say.

Stede’s eyes flicker with confusion for just a moment, at Ed’s unscripted answer. “Yes?”

And Ed remembers himself, remembers where they are and what’s happening, and he mentally shakes his head. He breaks out into a huge grin. “Oh my god, yes, of course, you lunatic!” Ed pulls Stede up to his feet and envelopes in a kiss as the crowd cheers for them and Lucius cries in the background. They break apart for a moment for Stede to slide the ring onto Ed’s finger. It’s a little big, but not too bad. They’ll have to get it resized later. Stede pulls him back in for a kiss, the surreality of the entire thing sweeping over him as the crowd goes wild for them.

-

They’re met back in the justice building with applause and whoops at them all around. Jackie hugs both of them and kisses the tops of their heads. “Congratulations you two, I’m so happy for you!” She leans in so only they can hear her whisper, “You were perfect, they’re eating it up in the Capitol.” 

She then turns and calls over an older woman, around Stede’s father’s age, with short blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a sleeve tattoo of creeping flowers and ivy going from her left hand to her neck. Ed knows her—fuck, everyone knows her. The Capitol’s biggest enemy, who Ed has the record of least kills tied with. “Stede, Ed, I want you two to meet Rachel Wall.”

Rachel smiles brightly, taking their hands in hers. “So good to finally meet you two, it really is an honor. And congratulations.” From the way she smiles at them, Ed is certain that she knows it was all an act.

“Thank you, and really, the pleasure is all ours,” Stede says, “I mean you’re a legend among the victors.”

Rachel waves him off with a laugh, “Oh please, hardly a legend, legends get to leave their district.”

Ed leans in and lowers his voice. “Just having the guts to say what you said makes you a legend in my book.” Rachel has always been outspoken against the Capitol, but a few years ago she had crossed a line that was apparently too far even for a victor. During the 68th Games, an interview had come out between Lucius and the president in which the president had laughed at the way a 12-year-old girl had been killed that day. Rachel had been mentoring those Games and had flat-out called the president a murderer on live television. For anyone else, the punishment would be death or becoming an Avox, but killing or maiming a victor like that would only make her a martyr, a symbol for the districts to rally behind. Instead, the president had banned her from ever leaving her district again, making her the first victor in the history of the Games to be forbidden from participating as a mentor or from attending victor events.

“It’s really such an honor to meet you, I—” Ed cuts himself off as he notices all the peacekeepers in his peripheral. 

Rachel follows the line of his eyes, nodding in understanding. She moves to block the peacekeepers’ view of them, her back to them coaxing Ed and Stede off to the side. 

“You’re a good kid. Both of you are good kids. Don’t let them scare you.” Over her shoulder, she shoots the peacekeepers a glare. She mutters under her breath, “They can’t touch you two with a ten-foot pole right now.” She laughs. “Fucking imagine what would happen if the star-crossed lovers from 1 and 12, who are about to get married, were targeted by the Capitol right now.” 

They laugh awkwardly, knowing full well there are massive targets on their backs if they say one thing wrong or look unconvincing. Across the hall, Jackie catches their eyes and twirls her finger in the air, an obvious wrap it up, we’ve got to go signal.

“Well,” Rachel starts, clearly also noticing that they’re out of time, “boys, if you’re ever in 8 again, give me a ring and we can chat. And I know you’re a clotheshorse, Stede, you have got to see some of the traditional handwoven fabrics here. They’re absolutely beautiful.” 

Stede’s eyes sparkle at the notion. “Oh my god, for sure, I’ll let you know. Thanks so much for talking.”

“To repeat what you said, the pleasure’s all mine. Congratulations again, I’m sure it’s going to be a beautiful wedding. One they’ll never forget.” She raises her eyebrows. She definitely knows.

12/8

The plan went off without a hitch. Lucius went back to the Capitol for the night to do a recap from his studio and talk to all the celeb gossip people. Everyone in the Capitol absolutely fell for it, and there was less violence in the districts yesterday so… that’s something at least. 

Liz called and wished us congratulations. She was happy to see us together again. Obviously we couldn’t clue her in that this is all for show, not with the possibility that someone’s listening in to our calls. I hope she isn’t angry when she finds out. I could tell that Ed was happy to tell her we were doing better. We’re going to see her in two days. Aside from Ed, I’ve missed her the most.

I don’t know what’ll happen in 2 tomorrow. I had that dream about Jack again so that can’t be a good sign. 

Aside from 3, District 2 is the stop Ed has been dreading the most. Stede killed both of the tributes from 2, to save Ed, and now they both have to stand up on stage, freshly engaged, and talk about how grateful they are for the opportunity they have to be together. All while Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny’s families watch.

Stede has been quiet since they woke up and Ed knows however much he’s dreading it, Stede must be feeling it about 100 times worse than him. 

“Hey. You okay?” he asks as they’re being escorted to the Justice Building. 

Stede snaps to attention from where he had been staring blankly out the car windows. “Hm? Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, and as if to prove his point, he reaches out for Ed’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

“If you’re worried about Jack and Anne, I’ll take this one. I spent more time with them anyway.”

Stede frowns at him. “You didn’t like either of them.”

“Yeah, but.” Ed doesn’t really have a retort to that. Most of the time he spent with them, he was actively working against them to keep Stede safe. Jack was an obnoxious piece of shit and Anne was cold and bloodthirsty, both of them the epitome of a career tribute. Everything Ed was supposed to be and wasn’t. No, he didn’t like either of them and doesn’t have anything nice to say, aside from maybe that they were good training partners. But even then, how believable is that when he spent the vast majority of his training time with Stede? “Yeah, I didn’t like them. But I can fake it, and deflect any anger or anything onto me. They’re a career district though, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” Stede says softly. “We’ve got the cards. We just have to read what’s on them. Easy.”

But Ed can see the worry etching itself into lines on Stede’s face. “Exactly. So I’ll just do it, and you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

For a moment, Stede looks like he’s going to keep arguing, but then his face softens. He leans closer, their arms brushing against each other. “I don’t know why this is so hard. I did what every other victor—well, almost any other victor,” he corrects with a squeeze of Ed’s hand, “had to do. If I hadn’t…hadn’t done it, they would have killed me. And you.”

“Stede… This stuff, it’s hard for pretty much everyone. Almost every other victor I know is fucked up from this.” He leans in to whisper, “You know that Izzy sleeps with a stuffed unicorn to keep the nightmares away?”

Stede whips his head around to gape at Ed. “ No. What?” He glances behind them, where Izzy is scowling in the back row of the SUV. “You’re joking.”

“I guarantee if we went snooping through his room we’d find it stashed away somewhere.” Ed had discovered this little tidbit a few years ago when he’d stopped by Izzy’s house early one morning. He’d stumbled upon Izzy asleep on his couch, hugging a fluffy white unicorn to his chest and he’d been so shocked that he accidentally knocked over a lamp, startling Izzy awake in the process. Eventually, after a lot of needling, Izzy had reluctantly admitted that he had trouble sleeping now and this was the only thing he’d found so far that helped.

“Point is, all of them are fucked up from all of this. Every victor I know is on some sort of antidepressants and sleeping pills. Too many of them have drug and alcohol problems cause of all this, that’s how my first mentor went.” He hadn’t been with Hornigold for long, maybe a year (possibly less than that). But from what Ed remembers of him, he was aggressive and addicted to cocaine, and had been ever since he won the 12th games. Then Izzy had nabbed him when he came home from his Games after watching Ed with a sword, and Hornigold just sort of lost himself after that, fading into drunken obscurity before eventually dying from all the drinking and drugs. 

Stede sighs, nodding. “My dad’s like that with alcohol, it’s just awful. I don’t want it to get like that.”

“You won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Cause I know you, and how you cope with things.” Ed runs his thumb over Stede’s knuckles. “And you would’ve already gotten into it by now.” 

Stede smiles up at him. “You know me so well huh?” 

“I like to think so.”

“Wow, didn’t know I was so predictable.” He bumps Ed’s shoulder. “Thought I was an insane wildcard.”

“You can be,” Ed says. He leans in to press a kiss to Stede’s cheek. “I like that.”

The car stops and the door opens to reveal the Justice Building. Ed has seen it on broadcasts before, of course, but in person, it’s even more ornate than it appears on a screen. It’s by far the fanciest of all the Justice Buildings they’ve been to on the Victory Tour, comparable to District 1’s own building in terms of austerity. As is typical, they’re escorted into the back of the building by peacekeepers. The inside is surprisingly just as grand as the exterior, marble floors with intricate designs sculpted into the walls and ceiling. 

Jackie runs through the process again, though by this point they’re old hats at it. Ed can tell Stede is zoning out by the blank look drawing onto his face. He squeezes his hand firmly, exchanging a reassuring look with him when Stede turns to look at him. “I’ve got this,” he whispers. “Just let me take care of it.” Stede swallows and then nods.

It’s only a few minutes before their names are announced and they’re stepping through the double open doors, onto the makeshift stage. Ed hears Stede suck in a breath as the scene before them comes into view. It’s nothing out of the ordinary: the gathered crowd is large and loud, the two platforms where the fallen tributes’ families stand, no different from any of the others. But it’s the two faces projected onto them, Jack on the right side, Anne on the left, that are the issue here.

Ed leads Stede to the microphone, hand-in-hand as they’ve done 10 times already. But this time, rather than each of them taking turns, Ed reads through the whole thing, finishing with a solemn, “Panem today. Panem tomorrow. Panem forever.”

The response is mixed, which is unusual for a career district, at least from the footage Ed’s seen from previous Victory Tours, as well as Ed’s own experience being from 1. The career districts are, by large, the ones most enthusiastic about the Games. Ed’s been invited to his share of viewing parties from other trainees. He’d attended a few, only to realize that he didn’t share the thirst for violence that many of the other serious trainees did. 

Here, though, the crowd seems split. Half the crowd seems eager to show their support for their newest victors, cheering and clapping wildly, waving banners with their faces on them. The other half is subdued, more in line with what their experience has been in other districts. They applaud politely because they have to, not because they want to. 

They head back inside, and it’s all the same congratulations on their engagement they received in 8 from the District 2 officials. Jackie and Izzy come over to rescue them after a few moments and usher them away. 

“Great job as always, you guys are pros at this.” She smiles, but then stops when she catches sight of something across the room. Her eyes go wide, her cheeks darkening with an actual blush, something Ed has never seen Jackie do before. “Oh my god, he’s here.”

Izzy meets her eyeline and groans. “Seriously, why are all of you like this?”

“He’s fucking gorgeous, that’s why!” she bites back, then calls to the person, “Hey Sam!” 

“Oh my god, Jackie! Nice to see you!” 

Ed and Stede both turn to see the victor who seems to be the most talked about on all the Capitol shows about the Games, their “Daddy,” as they call him, Sam Bellamy. He’s tall, with a square jaw and a dusting of facial hair across it, greying at his temples. He’s around the same age as Stede’s father and Rachel. He envelops Jackie in a hug which she seems all too happy to receive, and then turns to give Izzy a handshake, and Ed is fucking floored to see Izzy’s cheeks turn pink at the touch.

And then he’s turning his deep-set brown eyes on the two of them and Ed clenches Stede’s hand, his stomach flipping at the enthusiastic smile he gives them. “Holy shit,” he says to Ed and Stede, “Blackbeard, Stede! Might I say, I’m a massive fan of both of you.” 

Ed is too busy melting under those eyes to answer, so he’s grateful when Stede, apparently entirely unaffected, answers, “Oh wow, thanks, means a lot coming from you.”

“How’s life been treating you, Sam?” Jackie asks.

“Not too bad, not too bad. You remember my girl, Cassie. She just turned 11.”

“Aw, a sweetheart.” she coos.

Sam’s smile twists into something sadder, despondent. He sticks his hands in his pockets, shrugging. As if he’s distancing himself as far away as he can from the inevitable that’ll come in just a year when his child turns 12. “Yeah, she’s uh—she’s great. But these guys have been a bit of an obsession of mine since they won.” He leans in closer to both of them. “My niece was going on about how excited she was to see your outfits. She wants you to wear a pretty dress really bad,” he tells Stede.

Now there’s a thought. Sam’s niece is a genius and Ed immediately wants nothing more than to see Stede in a dress. How Stede hasn’t already worn a dress in anything is ludicrous in his opinion.

“Well let her know that I’d love that too,” Stede says with a smile. “My stylist does fantastic work, I’m sure he’d make the most beautiful dress for me or Ed.”

“Wrap it up, we’re out in 10 minutes,” Izzy calls to them. They have to be in 1 tomorrow and admittedly, both of them are excited to leave so they can see Liz again. 

“It was great meeting you, I really hope we talk again sometime,” Stede says, cool as anything, while Ed finally manages to stammer out a, “Nice to meet you.” Stede glances at him with a knowing smile.

“Same here, guys.” He pauses, looking like he’s debating mentioning something. Hesitantly, he asks, “You were in 8 yesterday, yeah?”

“Yeah, why?”

He ducks his head and shifts, hands still stuffed deep into his pockets. “Oh no particular reason, I—I just haven’t seen Rachel in a long time and was curious to see if you two had met her.”

“We did,” Stede answers. “She seems to be doing well.”

Sam bobs his head in a nod. “Good, good. She was, uh… We were mentors at the same time and…I’ve missed her.” 

Ed glances over at Stede, and they both share an oh he totally has a thing for her look. The longing on Sam’s face is familiar enough to Ed to snap him from his starstruck haze and he smiles sympathetically. “Wish we would’ve seen you sooner, mate,” he says. “Would’ve told her you said hi.” 

“No, it’s fine. Rough being so close to friends that can’t see you though.” He feigns laughter, but Ed can tell there’s real hurt underneath there. By exiling Rachel to her district, the Capitol wasn’t just separating her from the rest of the country, they separated two very close friends (possibly more than that from what he’s gathering now). 

Ed can’t help but feel a bit guilty about what he and Stede have had. They’ve had the privilege of being able to see each other and talk to each other whenever they want. But all of these other victors they’ve met, they only get to leave their Districts during the Games, or special Capitol events or interviews with Lucius if they’re lucky. He can finally see why so many play up their stardom like Sam has. It’s a way to see his friends more, to see people who can relate to his life. But they shut him away from the one person that seemed to matter more than all of them. Ed squeezes Stede’s hand. They have each other right now on the tour, but soon enough they’ll be home and without each other for god knows how long. He has to savor it while he can. He’s already wasted so much time.

From the other side of the hall, Izzy yells, “Let’s go!” and Sam practically pushes them away.

“Sorry, Iz! See you at the Quell. You too, Jackie!” He waves at all of them as they gather together to leave.

Izzy grumbles under his breath about them running late while Jackie flutters her fingers back at Sam. “See you then, boo cakes.”

They speed out of District 2, cutting through the mountains that separate it from District 1 and the Capitol, and Ed feels a strange pit in his stomach. After talking to Sam, and realizing that other victors don’t have the luxury of travel like Ed and Stede do, he feels—he feels pretty shitty.

He stares out the window, his hair down, having changed into soft silky pajamas and a velvet robe. Ed can practically feel Stede’s eyes on him across the room before he gets up to join him on the couch. “Hey,” Stede says with a small voice, he leans into Ed’s side and squeezes his shoulders. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Ed shrugs. “I wish everyone had what we have.”

Stede seems to understand what he means, in that Stede sort of way where he appears to read Ed’s mind. He rests his head against Ed’s. “I felt so bad for him. Both of them, really.”

“Neither of them deserved what happened, and when he mentioned his kid…” Ed sighs. “God, I just can’t imagine what he’s feeling.”

“Must be terrifying for victors, your kid finally coming of age.” Stede amends, “Well you know, with good parents of course. They know exactly how it all goes down.”

Ed turns his head, his nose grazing Stede’s cheek. He plants a kiss there, memorizing the feeling of the stubbly scruff underneath his lips, and the smell of his cologne and aftershave. Things aren’t back to the way they were between them, not yet. It’s too soon, and Ed is still sorting through his feelings about Stede having lied to him. But they’ve lost so much time, and they have so little of it together. “I already miss you. It’s not fucking fair.”

“It’s not,” Stede agrees, wiping away tears from his eyes. “Fuck, I just got you back, now I have to leave you again in a few days.”

As Stede pulls him in closer, Ed buries his head into Stede’s neck, “We could do it you know,” Ed whispers, in case any hidden mics are listening. “Run away, start over, reset. Get out of Panem for good.”

Stede pulls away and looks down at him. “We’d get caught. I mean, Ed, I’d do it. God knows it’s been something I’ve thought about doing since long before being reaped. But…it’s just not possible. And you have your mother.”

“She could come with us. We leave from 12 and just disappear forever, like that girl that won the 10th Games. She never got caught.”

Stede chuckles darkly. “I have a strong suspicion that she never got caught because Badminton killed her back then.”

“Stede, please, just…think about it.” Ed catches his eyes and tries to convey as much of a silent plea as he can through their shared gaze. 

Finally, Stede relents with a sigh and a nod. “I’ll think about it.”

And that’s all that Ed can ask for right now.

-

Later, when they’re both tucked into Ed’s bed, Stede not having returned to his room to sleep since Ed’s nightmare, Stede is drifting off with his head resting on Ed’s chest, and Ed finds himself wondering about how Stede can handle himself so cooly around other people that make Ed want to melt into a puddle. He’d thought it was part of how he was raised, just being used to it from being carted around to fancy dinners and victor events, but so far he hasn’t shown a sprinkle of anything past polite and professional interest toward anyone. Anyone besides Ed. 

“Hey, Stede?” he asks softly. “You awake?”

“Mmhmm,” Stede hums back drowsily.

“Can I ask you something?”

There’s a pause and then Stede shifts so his chin is resting on Ed’s chest, his head propped up on his hand. He blinks the sleep from his eyes. “What’s that, darling?”

Ed purses his lips, wondering how best to ask this, when he doesn’t even really know what he’s asking. “Are you… Do you… Are you attracted to me?”

All at once Stede is awake. Even in the darkness, Ed can see the dark flush of his cheeks. “I…” He clears his throat. “I thought that would be obvious.”

“So that’s a…”

“Yes, of course,” Stede says with a nervous laugh.

“Okay. And…” He scratches at the edge of the blanket. “Are there…other people you’re attracted to?” 

Stede presses up onto his elbow, brows furrowed in confusion. “Ed, what—”

“It’s not a trick question or anything, I swear,” Ed says in a rush. “I just noticed you don’t really… You don’t seem to be affected by…hot people.”

Stede frowns. “Can you give me an example?”

“Literally today, Stede,” Ed says with a disbelieving laugh. “When we met Sam Bellamy. I was practically melting into a pile of goo along with Jackie and Izzy, and you were just…cool as anything.”

“Oh, well I don’t know about that,” Stede dismisses.

“I couldn’t even say two words and you were out there all casual like you were talking to your neighbor or something. Instead of to the guy who’s been named the Hottest Victor like, what, five years in a row now?”

“You think he’s hot?”

“Yeah,” Ed answers emphatically. “Along with pretty much everyone who’s attracted to men.”

“I suppose he is objectively good-looking,” Stede says thoughtfully.

“See, that’s what I mean,” Ed says with a laugh, and after a moment Stede joins in. “Seriously though, are there any that do it for you?”

Stede seems to think this over a bit, mulling it over like it’s the most important question Ed could ask. “Besides you, I…I guess not. I’ve never felt attracted to anyone like this before you, I suppose.”

“Really?” It doesn’t seem all that out of the ordinary. He’s known people in the training center that aren’t attracted to anyone in that way. But why is Stede hopeless for Ed and only Ed? 

“Really. It’s actually part of the reason why I was so unsure of myself during the games. I had no idea what these feelings I felt were because I’d never felt them before.” His hand splays out over Ed’s chest. “When you came up to me in the forest room, hell, when I saw you in the tribute parade, I thought ‘holy shit, he’s hot, and I have no idea what to do about it.’” 

Ed can think of a few things to do about it, but that’s beside the point. He gets why Stede was so unsure now. If Ed’s the only person he’s ever felt like this about, then there was no frame of reference for him to fall back on. And add that to the stress and fear of going into the Games, it’s really not a stretch to imagine how confused and unsure he was that whole time. “You really love me?” he asks in a small voice.

Stede responds in a voice just as small, “Yeah, I really do.”

They both look at each other for a moment, staring into the other’s eyes. Stede’s green-gray hazel somehow shines in the dark. Ed doesn’t know who leans in first, but they come together in a kiss, a real kiss, even more real than the one they shared back in District 3. 

Stede lets out a small noise to match Ed’s whimper as they go deeper, prodding at the other's mouth with their tongues. Stede shifts until he’s nearly straddling Ed, one hand cradling Ed’s cheek, the other tangling in his hair, as he gasps into Ed’s mouth. Ed pulls Stede in closer, his head spinning, drunk on the taste of Stede and the feel of his legs framing Ed’s hips. He unconsciously skates his hands lower and lower down Stede’s back, and is cut off when he reaches the small of his back. 

Stede separates with a gasp, his breath heaving. His cheeks are flushed, eyes bright even as they fill with a silent apology. “I can’t. I’m not ready.”

Ed runs his hand through Stede’s hair, trying to catch his own breath. “That’s fine. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I—I’m honestly not ready either.” It would be stupid to go so far so fast. The wound isn’t fully healed and he really does want to take things slow. He needs time—they both do. And time is finally something that they actually have. Still, some part of him just wants to be okay now though. To skip all the hard work and mental health shit, and be able to be happy with Stede again.

Stede smiles back at him, shining despite the pitch dark. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I really do love you, Ed.” He leans back down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to say it back.”

I love you, too. The words get trapped in Ed’s throat, even though they’re nothing new, even though they’ve said them before, and stay trapped as Stede lays back down beside him and eventually falls asleep.

I love you, Stede, Ed thinks to himself as he finally drifts off.

Chapter Text

Liz crushes both of them in a hug almost as soon they get off the train in District 1. She peppers Ed’s head and cheeks in kisses, squeezing him so tightly he thinks she may actually strangle him. “My baby, I missed you so much!” 

Ed laughs and tries to push her away, his cheeks heating up. “Mom, come on.” 

“Shush, I’m your mother, I’m allowed to miss you and give you hugs and kisses.” She gives him one last giant smooch on the cheek before turning her attention to Stede, squeezing him seemingly just as tightly and kissing him on the cheek too. “I missed you too, how have you been?”

“Oh, you know.” He uneasily looks around at the cameras filming their reunion. It seems that District 1 hasn’t received the same amount of military presence there’s been in the other districts. At least not in a way so visible, not when there are cameras here following them around. They had swarmed the second he and Ed got off the train, just as they always have when they’ve visited each other. “Just great. Homesick though. I have missed seeing you, it’s been too long.”

“It has. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” she says, referencing the story they used to explain why Stede missed his last visit. She gives both of them pointed looks. “I hope you’ll be able to visit sometime after all this.” Ed knows his mother well enough to know that that translates to I hope you two have gotten your shit together by now.

Liz scans the rest of the crew following them around until her eyes land on one figure, standing away from the rest of the group. She fixes Edward Bonnet with a glare, one that Ed has no doubt would eviscerate him, if that were possible with a single look. 

The two of them are herded to the car going to the Justice Building and Liz joins them, fitting herself in between Ed and Stede. She and Stede excitedly catch up after about a month of not seeing each other, but Ed is too wrapped up in what happened last night. What Stede said about not finding a single other victor—or anyone for that matter—attractive like he finds Ed attractive. And what happened after… If Ed’s being honest with himself, he wouldn’t even have known what to do if they went any further. Although the dream he had afterwards of him and Stede alone in the middle of the arena, naked, gave him a good idea.

He was acting on instinct, what felt right then and there in the moment. He can’t do anything like that with Stede, at least not now. But the thought of sleeping with Stede has been intoxicating him all morning. He wants their first time to be better than it would’ve been, when they’re not on a train going 200 mph, taking them on a tour to celebrate the death of other children. And not after having just barely patched things up.

No, Stede deserves better than that. When they’re in a better place, and not two days out from saying that they want to take things slow. Then they’ll finally have sex. It’s only right to wait. He’s sure the entire country (or at least people in the Capitol) have imagined the two of them going at it like lovesick animals, but Ed puts that disgusting thought in the back of his mind for now. He cues back into the conversation, where Stede is telling Liz the whole thing with Sam and Rachel.

“Wow, so she’s completely barred from leaving at all?”

“Yeah, and he can’t visit.” Stede explains, “Victors can only go to the Capitol for sanctioned events, mentoring, and interviews. We seem to be the only ones with special travel permits.”

“That’s insane!” Liz exclaims, “You’d think they’d love to have another romance like yours in the media, god knows tons of other victors have had things with each other.”

“If they give more people travel permissions, then everyone is going to want them,” Ed says, resigned. How many people in Panem were separated by the war all those years ago when there was travel between the Districts? How many families broken apart, friends and lovers forced to never see each other again? They’d be first in line to get travel permits, along with victors who have become friends and lovers over their time.

His mother had said at one point her family was from District 4, but were trapped in 1 after the war when they had come to make clothes and shoes. God knows she’d want to see her home too.

Liz squeezes his thigh and Ed smiles, leaning into her side. He’d forgotten how much he’s missed having her nearby. “You’re probably right. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s stupid.” She changes the subject on a dime, looking over at Stede, “That massive scowling asshole next to Jackie, that was your father right?”

Stede laughs. They all know that she knows exactly who Stede’s father is and what he looks like, but took the opportunity to get a jab in anyway. “Yes, yes he was. He’s been avoiding us as much as possible lately.”

“He said some horrible shit to Stede after District 7 went to shit.” Ed adds, “I made sure he wouldn’t bother either of us anymore.”

Liz sits back in her seat, her entire face pinching in, “Good to know. I’m so sorry that happened, Stede.”

-

The festivities in 1 are short. Since Ed’s one of their victors, they’re in relatively high spirits. However, some time is spent mourning Evelyn. Her mother and three brothers stand under Evelyn’s portrait. Ed’s known her family for a while, but he’s still always shocked by how much she and her mother look alike. They have the same permanently pissed off-looking eyebrows and bleached blonde hair. It’s like he’s looking at Evelyn in the future. Or what her future should’ve been.

Ed doesn’t even notice how tense he’s been until they’re back inside the justice building, and Stede’s squeezing his hand and rubbing feeling back into his arms. “Are you okay?” he asks, eyebrows pinching together in worry. “Kinda lost you for a bit.”

If he’s being honest, Ed doesn’t remember how they ended that speech. Stede must’ve taken over when he tensed up. “I’m fine, thank you. I just—I didn’t think it would be so hard.” His voice breaks, and Stede brings him into a tight embrace. He kisses Ed’s temple, petting back some of the hair that’s come loose from his braid.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. I took over, I don’t think anyone really noticed.”

He’ll take that blind confidence Stede has that no one noticed Ed go catatonic in front of a massive group of people. Ed hugs him back, the desire to keep holding on and never let go surging through him. He can practically feel the loss of Stede he’s going to experience just after the Capitol celebrations tomorrow morning. 

If Ed had his way, they’d book it out to the woods, hide out for the rest of their lives together outside of Panem. But Stede’s right, they would get caught, and as much as Ed wouldn’t want to admit it, his mother wouldn’t cut it out in the woods. She’s spent too much of her life in the main city of District 1. 

There’s no possibility for them to have the life that they want now. They can’t have the small intimate wedding they want, they can’t have kids without risk of them dying in the Hunger Games, and they can’t know privacy for the rest of their lives. They’re spectacles, political pawns that continue to live at the Capitol’s “generosity”. It brings fresh tears to Ed’s eyes. He almost wishes he and Stede ate those berries in the arena. At least they’d be free.

Sounds of yelling from another room bring them back to reality. It doesn’t sound like in District 3, nothing like the sound of a rioting crowd. No, this is aggression. “What the hell is that?” Stede questions as he separates from Ed. They creep closer to the room. Jackie, Izzy, John, Lucius, Ivan, and Fang are also nearby listening. Ed doesn’t think he’s ever seen Izzy smile so wildly; it’s honestly quite unnerving.

“The fuck is going on?” Ed whispers.

“See for yourselves.” Lucius makes a path for them through the group.

They find a cracked open door to a side room, an abandoned office of some sort, and Liz laying into Stede’s father with a kind of furious anger the likes of which Ed has never seen from her. 

“He is your fucking son, your own flesh and blood, and you publically go on record saying you wish he was dead?!” she yells. She doesn’t even give him a chance to attempt to explain himself. “You’re his father, he is supposed to look up to you, and you be his guide in life, be the person he feels like he can confide in most. How do you raise a boy as sweet as him, and not feel anything but love for him?”

He leans down and crowds her, like a wolf standing over a rabbit. In this case, though, the rabbit stands her ground, not wavering from her spot an inch. “Why didn’t your son feel that way about his father?” he asks, letting his words hang in the air. “The one he killed?” The words hit like hammer strikes, and Ed’s heart sinks. The sound of Liz’s hand smacking Edward Bonnet across the face rings out through the bottom floor of the justice building. Everyone flinches.

“Holy shit,” Izzy gasps.

Despite being nearly a foot and a half shorter than him, she seems to loom over him, her duster nearly billowing like a cape behind her. “My son was abused, same as Stede. He did not kill his father. But you’re very lucky Stede hasn’t killed you. You trained him in enough weapons, very bold to trust him that much with your life when you treat him like dirt on your boot.” She heads towards the door, brushing past Stede’s father. Ed and Stede shuffle through the group to move to the back. When Liz reaches the door, she pauses and glances over her shoulder to deliver one final blow. “For someone that was in the Hunger Games, who knows the cost of taking the lives of children, you clearly don’t value the life of your own child.”

She slams the door on him and doesn’t even blink at finding everyone else in the hallway. She storms through them like they’re not even there and pulls Stede into a tight embrace. It’s then that Ed finally realizes Stede’s crying. 

“I’m so sorry, my love,” Liz manages through a sob of her own, and kisses the side of Stede’s head. “I had to do it.” She holds him for a long moment until Stede’s shoulders stop shaking, and then she separates and hugs Ed.

He leans into her, digging his head into her throat like he did as a small child. Edward Bonnet’s voice rings out in his ears, the one he killed. Accusing. Knowing. How could he know? Ed’s never told anyone except for Stede and Izzy, and there was never any investigation into his father’s death. Plenty of people saw him stumbling around drunk that day. “Mom,” he squeaks out, but Liz just shushes him, and rubs down his back.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. He’s being an asshole,” she assures him, kissing his temple. “It’s all words with nothing behind them.”

Except it’s true, Ed wants to say, but he can’t. He can’t risk it, can’t face losing her. So he lets himself be held by his mother. She pulls Stede in with them, and they all stand there, hugging. A family. 

-

They spend the night in Ed’s house that night. The trip to the Capitol is short from 1—it only takes a few hours on the faster trains—so they take advantage of it and sleep in a familiar bed. After the emotions of the day, both of them are rendered near speechless. Today Ed watched his mother defend Stede and stand up to Edward Bonnet as if Stede were her own child. He’d always known his mom was a badass, but this solidifies it.

Dinner is very quiet. More is said in looks and touches than in words, and all three of them are off to bed very quickly. Stede sits on the edge of Ed’s bed, already changed for sleep, picking at the strange lacy texture of his comforter, while Ed gets dressed for bed in his usual t-shirt and shorts. He nearly jumps when Stede says something for the first time in hours. “When did you get the dandelion? The one on your thigh?”

Ed looks down at the yellow bloom just beneath his briefs. He’d almost forgotten about the flower on his left upper thigh. “Maybe a month before…before everything.” He had wanted to show Stede when he was to visit 1 a few weeks before the Victory Tour, but obvious circumstances prevented him. 

“Can’t believe I only just now noticed it.”

“Well, I’ve mostly been wearing the Capitol shit.”

The room is quiet for a moment. Stede reaches out to it, not touching, but letting his fingers linger there a moment. His voice breaks when he asks, “You got it for me, didn’t you?”

Ed doesn’t want to answer, but that’s answer enough for Stede. 

“I’m so sorry, Ed.” His breath comes out in a shudder. “I’m sorry I…I fucking used you.”

Ed is quick to go to his side, settling Stede against his chest. “I know. I know you are. We both said shit we regret to each other. It’s not just you, remember that. They made us like this.”

They turned them into killers, they forced them to fight for both their own lives and their family’s lives just for stepping a single hair out of line, they turned them against each other. 

“I want this to be over,” Stede says through tears, “but I don’t want to go home. I—I just want to disappear with you.”

Ed rubs his thumbs against Stede’s arms. He wants the same thing. “Do you think it’s different in the rest of the world? You think they have to deal with this shit too?”

“I hope not. I hope it’s safe and peaceful.” Stede’s hand hovers back over Ed’s tattoo and Ed nods, giving him silent permission to touch. He shivers as Stede’s thumb strokes over the petals, down the stem. “They must look at us and think we’re monsters. God knows I would.”

World history and geography isn’t taught in Panem, only the history of their country through their lens. Anything that’s known about the rest of the world is taught from elders who have had that information stored from past generations. Books about the outside world are hot commodities, damn near impossible to find unless you look in the right places. 

Stede’s been lucky enough to find old maps and textbooks from the days of North America. He showed off his secret collection hidden in a compartment in his closet to Ed during one visit. Maybe one day they’ll be able to go out and see the world. Stede can finally see Ed on a ship then.

Ed hums thoughtfully, “I think they’d pity us more. Not our fault we go through this shit.” He lays a hand over Stede’s, squeezing softly. “It’ll get better someday.”

Stede’s breath catches as he shakes his head. “I’m afraid it won’t ever end,” he admits. “That it’s gonna be like this forever.”

Ed sighs, holding Stede closer. He thinks of everything they’ve seen. Of districts pushed to the breaking point, starving, fighting back because what else do they have to lose? Of Capitol citizens close friends with known anti-Capitolists, doing everything they can to keep Ed and Stede alive. Of warnings given by the new head gamemaker, of threats against them and their families if they so much as step a toe out of line. Ed can’t help but notice the smell of revolution in the air. Quietly, he says, “Can’t be so sure of that these days.”

-

Ed sleeps better than he has in days in his own bed, Stede next to him, both of them only waking up once in the night. It’s too short-lived however. Soon enough, they can hear footsteps outside the door gearing up to wake them. 

It’s the last day they’ll be together for god knows how long. Ed will be back in 1 by the end of the day, and Stede will be on the overnight train back to 12. He feels Stede stirring behind him, his front pressed to Ed’s back and Ed clamps his arms over Stede’s, which are wrapped around his waist.

Stede’s breath tickles the back of his neck as he lets out a sigh. “Morning.”

“Mm, no it isn’t,” Ed grumbles. He turns over, nuzzling into Stede’s neck. “Don’t want to have to say goodbye tonight. I only just fuckin’ got you back.”

“I know,” Stede agrees with a sympathetic hum. “I don’t want to go.”

“Maybe, if we just stay here and we’re really quiet, they’ll forget about us and we won’t have to go,” Ed suggests.

As soon as the sentence is out of his mouth, though, there’s a knock on the door accompanied by his mother’s voice, “Boys, I’m supposed to have you at the station in half an hour, and I really don’t want to have to face Jackie’s wrath if we’re late.” They let out simultaneous groans and Liz chuckles. “That’s the spirit.” Her footsteps pad away, leaving them in silence, just the sound of their shared breath.

Stede is the first to get up, as he always is, unswayed by Ed’s grumbles of protest. They get ready together silently, their backs turned to each other as they get dressed. The rustle of clothing on the other side of the room is calming, the reminder of another person who shares his space, his thoughts. Who will share his life. 

Ed’s not even finished dressing completely before he feels Stede’s arms wrap around his middle from behind. He sinks into Stede’s grasp—his socks can wait—and spins around to hug him properly. They grip at each others backs, scrunching their shirts in their fists. Ed digs his face into Stede’s neck, to get a little bit more of Stede’s smell baked into his clothes and skin. 

Ed wants to say something, some sort of comforting platitude to make this entire ordeal they’re having to go through worth it, but nothing comes to mind. All he can muster is a choked sob.

Stede is equally speechless. It’s unnerving. Stede always has the right words, always knows what to say in a moment like this. But now, he’s got nothing. 

They part and Ed brings a hand to Stede’s cheek, swiping his thumb across his jaw. Stede leans into the touch, Ed can feel hot tears reaching his fingertips. He leans forward and kisses Stede, not feverish or wanting, like their moment on the train, but slow. They take their time with it, memorizing the feeling of the other's lips before they’re parted for god knows how long. They’ll have a few hours on the train into the Capitol, but once they get there they’ll be busy until late into the night, and then…

Then they’ll board separate trains, Ed back to 1 and Stede all the way back to 12.

“Ten minute warning!” Ed’s mother calls behind the door. 

Again, they part from each other. Ed wipes away tears collecting under Stede’s eyes. “We’ll be okay,” he says in a small voice. “We’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He pulls Stede into another quick hug, stomach squirming nervously with the lie. 

When they finally emerge from the room, Liz is waiting in the hallway, tears in her eyes. She takes a deep breath and opens her arms to Stede, damn near squeezing the breath out of him. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” she says in a broken voice. She kisses him on the side of his head. “I love you, Stede. Don’t forget to call and visit.”

“Of course, I won’t forget.” He takes a deep breath, and lets it out with a sigh. “Thank you, Liz, for everything.”

Liz parts from their hug, and smiles up at him. Stede’s not that much taller than Ed’s mother, but with the size of his shoulders and strong arms and chest compared to her willowy build, he might as well be a skyscraper. “Of course, like I’ve been saying, you’re my son now. Sometimes I have to go mama bear on assholes that hurt my babies.” She gives Ed a pointed look.

She’s part of the reason why Ed was able to leave Hornigold as a mentor. She absolutely hated his style of teaching, having gone through it herself years back when he was still in his prime, and experiencing that particular form of abuse from him. Izzy returned from his Games not long after Ed started his training, and knew immediately that he wanted Ed for himself to train. And with Izzy and Liz’s combined persuasion, they convinced the board of the facility to move Ed. It wasn’t that big of a change, Izzy was still a hard-ass teacher, but it was better.

“Now,” Liz starts, collecting herself, “you have a train to catch, and I don’t want to keep them waiting any longer.”

They all walk out like a line of ducks. The biting cold wind and snow has finally made their way down from the mountains and whips their hair and coats about. The car waits for them outside the gate of Victors Village, idling and hopefully heating up the inside.

Liz pulls Ed into another hug and kisses him on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight, baby. I love you.”

“Love you, Mom, see you later.”

She turns to Stede and gives him one last hug. “I love you so much.”

“I—,” Stede hesitates, but says with his whole chest, “I love you too. I’ll call both of you when I get home.”

They pile into the car. Jackie, Fang, and Izzy are waiting for them inside. They’re all relatively quiet, somber. 

“The president will congratulate the both of you on your win and engagement in front of the Capitol,” Jackie finally says, “you’ll meet with some officials and have a dinner, and after…” She’s as apprehensive to say what comes after as Ed and Stede are. “After, you’ll go back to the trains and head home. Stede, you should be home by morning. Edward, you’ll be home by 11 or midnight tonight.”

Ed sighs, dropping his head onto Stede’s shoulder. Fang pats his arm comfortingly, “It’ll be okay. You can still call, and the Quarter Quell is in three months so…”

“So we can see each other when we send off 24 more kids to kill each other?” Ed snaps. Fang winces and Ed immediately regrets it. Stede rests a hand on top of his. “Sorry.”

“It’s bullshit,” Izzy says from the front seat. He looks out to the TV cameras filming their entrance to the train station. “All of this, bunch of fuckin’ bullshit.”

-

John and Ivan put the last touches on the outfits they’ll wear to meet the President and all of the Capitol on this last stop. They’re both relatively simple, Stede in a white suit with long tails, and Ed in a long silky chiffon dress, both of them wearing gold laurels on their heads. John says that the white flowy fabric in both outfits fluttering in the breeze from the chariot should evoke the image of doves flying behind them. 

It certainly does its job of making Stede look fucking incredible . It’s lower cut than he usually wears, giving Ed a peak at his broad chest and wispy golden chest hairs. He loses himself a moment, staring until Ivan accidentally pokes him with the sewing needle by his ankle.

“ Ow shit fuck!” he gasps under his breath.

“Sorry, mate, you good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.” Ivan finishes the hem, giving it a swish, and looks over at Stede, standing next to Ed but focused on a conversation with John. He pulls Ed a bit further away, and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Have you told him how you feel?”

“I want to, but it—it doesn’t feel right right now. I’ve still got shit to figure out, I can’t tell him I love him right now.”

“Well, when you do, let me know. I’ll get started on your actual wedding outfits.”

The fanfare plays, their signal to get on the chariot. Ed hugs Ivan and rejoins Stede. He holds out a hand to steady Ed as he gets on.

“You ready?”

“Fuck, no.”

Stede smiles slightly, the corners of his lips turning up, and squeezes Ed’s hand. “Guess that makes two of us.” Stede gives him a slow onceover, his eyes lingering at the way his dress cinches around his waist, at the hint of cleavage the neckline accentuates, his arms and his art bared to the world. “You look beautiful,” he says, voice low.

Ed flushes under his gaze, leaning into Stede’s shoulder. “Thank you. So do you.” His eyes drop to the lowcut neckline, the sparse hairs dusted across his light skin.

They kiss as the curtain lifts, and the two horses start their trot down the Avenue of the Tributes. 

A deafening roar is all they can hear, hundreds of thousands of the Capitol’s citizens cheering for them as they make their way down the center of the road. Ed catches a glimpse of him and Stede on one of the massive screes. The fabric of their outfits extends far longer than Ed thought they did, trailing behind them, fluttering exactly how John said it would, like a flock of doves trailing them. 

He pulls Stede in for another kiss, and the roar somehow gets louder. 

Ahead of them, growing closer by the second, stands President Badminton, Jackie, Fang, Izzy, Edward Bonnet, a smattering of other government officials, and the new head game maker David Jenkins. They stand on stage with a giant screen behind them displaying their faces. 

The sight of Badminton turns Ed’s stomach, and no doubt does the same to Stede, although he’s good at hiding how he’s feeling. He needs to know if they did well, if they did a good enough job of convincing the Capitol and the rest of the country. There’s no way he’d know about their problems, so if they’re lucky, he bought it from the very beginning in District 11.

The horses come to a stop and they’re led on stage beside Badminton. All he needs to do is raise a hand, and the entire crowd goes near silent. 

“Welcome, everyone. Welcome to the final stop of the 74th Victory Tour, with our victors Edward Teach of District 1 and Stede Bonnet of District 12!”

Again, the crowd screams for them, a wall of noise hitting them straight on, honestly hurting Ed’s ears a bit. Badminton allows them a few seconds of cheering before quieting them just as easily, like trained dogs. 

“I congratulate them on their combined win, and on the news of their engagement!” 

Ed can feel Stede’s eyes on him, and looks to see him staring like Ed hung the moon up for him. He can feel Stede’s thumb fiddling with the engagement ring on Ed’s left hand. Ed smiles back, affecting the same doe-eyed look he plastered on his face after Stede “proposed” while the crowd goes absolutely feral for them. 

But the congratulations are hollow coming from Badminton, Ed can see that in his eyes on the screen in front of them. It’s almost as if the President is staring at him and Stede through the television cameras, even though he’s standing right next to them. He doesn’t believe them. He’s angry, the kind of simmering anger promising horrible things to come.

Stede grips onto Ed’s hand tighter and, despite knowing that it’s fear that prompts it, that it’s the realization that they haven’t done enough, Ed can’t help but relish the feeling. Now that they both know, now that they’re both in this together, Ed knows that there’s nothing they can’t take on. Even if the President throws the entire weight of his authority and power at them, with Stede at his side, the two of them are untouchable.

-

Two and a half months later

The static image of the seal of Panem projects on Ed’s wall as he and his mom wait for the Quarter Quell announcement. While he’s excited to see Stede again, after having been apart for almost two weeks, he’s not looking forward to this. It would be nice if the circumstances were better.

He has a feeling he knows which two tributes District 1 will send, which ones will volunteer like he and Evelyn did. The girl is a master with a throwing spear, and the boy can lift over 300 pounds like it’s nothing. But Ed shoves those thoughts aside. Those are future Ed problems. Now he just wants this to get done so he can call Stede and talk about it with him.

“You got any idea what the theme is?” Ed’s mother asks, curled into her side of the couch underneath a thick quilt.

“Nope, none.”

“They don’t let mentors know beforehand?”

Ed gives her a rueful smile. “What’s to stop mentors from telling the kids what’s gonna happen?”

“That’s true,” she sighs.

With a burst of drums that makes Ed jump, the anthem begins to play on the screen. He and his mother settle in, Mom’s hand stretching across the gap between them until Ed takes it in his, giving it a squeeze. They exchange an apprehensive look as the anthem concludes. 

It’s showtime.

There’s no big intro from Lucius and Frenchie, no celebratory sort of fanfare at all like the regular Hunger Games. Ed hadn’t been sure what to expect from this. The Quells are a big deal, so he had been expecting more pageantry. But for all Ed knows, this is typical with a Quarter Quell.

President Badminton walks up to the podium to cheers, which he quiets with a hand in the air. “Ladies and gentleman, this is the 75th year of the Hunger Games. It was written in the charter of the Games that every 25 years there would be a Quarter Quell.” Badminton pauses here, allowing the crowd to cheer in anticipation. When he speaks again, it’s directly to the camera, and a chill runs down Ed’s spine, unable to resist the thought that Badminton is speaking directly to him. “To keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died and the uprising against the Capitol,” Badminton lifts a card, the seal of Panem stamped on the back of it, “each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance.” As he continues, he pauses more frequently, as if he’s relishing the moment, squeezing out every bit of anticipatory excitement he can. “And now, on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell.” He holds up the card, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he reads. “‘As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol,’” he says, pausing to let the anticipation build. Ed feels Mom squeeze his hand and he leans forward, a sinking feeling in his chest.  “‘On this, the third Quarter Quell Games, the tributes are to be Reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district.’”

Next to him, Liz gasps, her hand tightening on his. “Edward,” she breathes.

But all Ed can hear is the rushing in his ears, and the drone of Badminton’s voice finishing, “‘They shall present themselves on Reaping Day regardless of age, state of health, or situation.’”

The rest of Badminton’s speech is drowned out as a wave of nausea hits him. He can hear his mother calling for him as he lurches to his feet and rushes to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time to be sick. He feels his hair being pulled out of the way, a soothing hand rubbing softly on his back. His stomach roils, his body heaving as the words the existing pool of Victors echo in his head over and over. This can’t be happening, this isn’t real, this is a nightmare. Some sick and twisted game his head is playing, he’ll wake up any second. 

Another wave of sickness crashes over him. This is real.

Eventually, he realizes Mom is speaking to him, a quiet, soothing voice. “—all right, Edward, it’s okay. It’s not going to be you. We have plenty of Victors, it’s going to be someone—”

“Stop,” he manages to croak out and she falls silent. He gives it a few moments but his stomach seems to have settled, and even if it hadn’t, there’s nothing left for it to expel. He sits up, wiping his watery eyes first, and then his mouth. Mom watches him with teary eyes, the fear in them betraying her real thoughts, her worry for him. But Ed hasn’t even considered the possibility that he might be Reaped. Right now, the only thing on his mind is one fact. “District 12 only has two living Victors.”

It takes her a moment to understand, and when she does, her eyes widen, heartbreak clear on her face. “Oh… god. Edward.”

Ed pushes himself to his feet, shaking his head. He knows what he needs to do. “I can’t let this happen. I won’t.”

“Ed—“ She reaches for his arm, but he swats it away. “Edward Kōwhai Teach!”

“I can’t—I’m not going to let him go in there alone.” He ignores his mother’s protests, heading straight for the front door. He shoves his feet into his shoes, grabs the first jacket within reach, and then he’s out the door.

He needs to talk to Izzy.

Chapter Text

Stede crashes through the forest, tripping over bushes and tree roots with unusual carelessness. His cries and screams of agony don’t stop; they keep coming, rising from somewhere deep inside his chest. This can’t be real. This is a literal nightmare, something straight out of a night terror that wakes him up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. He can still hear his father’s own screams from here. He needs to get further into the forest, past the District boundary, where it’s dead silent.

There’s a break in the forest, and he finally reaches the boundary. The meadow is silent and calm with the early spring air. Stede stands in the middle of the valley, his chest burning with the effort of running. 

He takes a deep breath and screams. The birds around him flee the trees. Lucky them. He screams until there’s no breath left in his lungs, then he takes in more air and screams again. He screams until his throat is absolutely shredded, then he crumples to the ground and cries.

Everything he’s worked for, everything… everything he and Ed accomplished in their relationship. All for nothing.

Grass rustles near him. Stede doesn’t lift his head until he feels a soft snuffle at his hand. A small brown rabbit sniffs at his fingers, and it makes Stede think of the day he met Ed. The first day in training, in the snare room, how one of the hologram rabbits hopped right up to Ed when he sat down. The look of wonder on Ed’s face, the way his eyes lit up. Before he even understood what was happening between them, Stede was transfixed. 

He splays his hand, allowing the rabbit to nuzzle closer to him. He’d be shocked that it’s even getting so close (there’s at least 15 hunters he knows of who regularly use the area), but the animals around here seem to trust him more than anyone. The fur is soft to the touch, like unbothered velvet. He sniffs. This does help a bit, like when Buttercup will curl on his chest in bed after a nightmare.

There’s a fresh patch of weeds growing from the rainstorm the other night. Stede plucks one of the yellow dandelions from the thatch and holds it out to the rabbit. It sniffs at the plant a moment, then chomps the blossom in one go, chewing the stem like it’s a piece of pasta. It hops away, leaving Stede to stare at the growing weeds in front of his face. 

He turns over on his back, watching the clouds make their way across the sky. Why didn’t he escape with Ed when he could? Why didn’t he just take the risk? If he wins, that’s what they’ll do. Under the cover of night, he and Ed will escape for good. They’ll flee north, make a cabin somewhere, live off the land. Yeah, yeah that sounds good.

Ed. 

Somewhere out there, thousands of miles away, Ed has just received the same news he did. Stede is going into the arena again, he knows that, but Ed… Ed has a chance. District 1 has a decent pool of Victors to select from. The chances are someone else will be Reaped, or someone else might even volunteer. But…it could still be his name read out at the Reaping. He can’t let that happen. The idea of Ed going through all this again, sweet Ed with his warm eyes and soft smile…  No. Ed has to stay alive, whatever it takes. 

Stede gets up, feeling like he’s ran a marathon. He needs two things: hot tea, and he needs to call Izzy. 

The trail back to the house is easy to find, Stede just needs to follow the destroyed tree branches and crushed plants. He says silent sorrys to the flower bushes he trampled in his escape. His father’s stopped his own screams. Based on the light turned on in his own house, he’s in the study, drinking. He can’t help but spare a thought for his mother. Though she was never what you might call loving toward him, she very well might have just lost her husband and her son in one go. Their relationship is complicated, but Stede would be lying if he said he didn’t feel some sympathy for her. 

When he reaches his own house, Stede goes into the kitchen and puts the kettle on. Buttercup’s waiting by the door, obviously perturbed with the way he had been unceremoniously dumped from Stede’s lap the minute the announcement was made. He scoops the cat up and lets him headbutt his cheek while simultaneously grumbling out a mewl at Stede. 

He takes his tea and the cat with him to the video phone in his room, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the bar cart on the way, and hits Izzy’s contact. He’s never actually called Izzy before, and it rings a few times, but to Stede’s surprise, he answers. Izzy looks as bad as Stede must look right now, drinking straight from a bottle of brown liquor. He smirks with no joy behind it. “You finally figured it out, Bonnet. And you wanted to do what? Cry to me? You have Edward for that.”

“I wanted someone to drink with.” Stede downs some of the alcohol. It helps, along with the tea. 

Izzy hums, a bit impressed. “Fair enough.”

“Izzy,” Stede swallows, “I need a favor.”

Izzy laughs bitterly, taking another swig. “So did Edward. You know, he was just here less than 20 minutes ago begging me to save your life.” He shakes his head. “You could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve that boy.”

Stede can’t argue that. He’d like to think he deserves Ed no matter what, but after what happened… Izzy’s right. He and Izzy just stare at each other for a while, drinking in silence, before Stede finally gathers himself. “I can’t let Ed die, I just—I can’t. I need you to volunteer for him.”

Izzy sits back, looking offscreen, shaking his head again in disbelief. “You do want me to die.”

“Izzy, please. I know… I know I have no right to ask you this, but I know you love him, and I know you don’t want to see him hurt. Please, if his name is called, I need you to volunteer for him.”

“You know how many living male victors 1 has? Five, including Edward. He could volunteer for any of them.”

“Well, don’t let him,” Stede says with his chest. Stede leans in. He knows this isn’t fair, he knows this is fucked up, but he needs to know there’s something in place to keep Ed safe. “Izzy, I need you to do this for me. It’s the last thing I’ll ask you. Please, I—” His voice breaks. “I couldn’t live with myself if he died.”

Izzy takes a swig from the bottle, sucking down what must be the last of his liquor, because he gets up to get a new one. That’s when Stede sees the one remnant from Izzy’s Games he still carries, the one scar he can’t hide. A Capitol issued prosthetic leg, starting just under his knee, Stede knows he lost it, it’s how he won. It’s the first Games Stede really remembers fully: he remembers watching 16-year-old Izzy get into a fight with the other last boy remaining, he remembers the boy’s scimitar slicing down through Izzy’s calf, he remembers Izzy reaching up and slicing the boy’s throat. He won, but his leg was unable to be saved. 

Stede’s never seen the prosthetic though. It’s always hidden, the one sign of Izzy’s human weakness. He returns to the seat at his desk, his face steely like he made up his mind on the journey to and from the liquor cabinet.

“If they call his name or anyone else’s, I’ll volunteer.” Stede’s face lights up, mouth opening to thank him, but Izzy holds up a finger, adding, “But if they call my name, there’s nothing I can do to stop him.”

“Thank you, Izzy, thank you so much.” Ed’s contact pops up on the screen, an incoming call. “It’s Edward.”

“Talk to him, cry, do whatever the fuck you two do. I don’t give a shit.” Izzy hangs up, and Stede takes the call.

“Ed—“

“Stede, I—fuck.” Ed’s eyes are rimmed with red, the skin around them puffy from crying. “It’s so good to see your face.”

“Yours too, Ed. You… How are you?” It’s a patently ridiculous question, with the Quell announcement and the obvious evidence that Ed’s been crying, but Stede asks anyway, if only to hear Ed’s voice. 

Ed laughs through a choked sob. “I can’t… I can’t do this, Stede. I just got you back, and now…” He sniffs, wiping at his eyes. “It’s not fucking fair. I can’t lose you.”

“Ed,” Stede says softly. He reaches up to touch the projection of Ed’s face, as if he could actually touch Ed’s cheek. “You won’t lose me. I know the cards are stacked against me, but I can do this. I have to.” Ed fully breaks down, and it’s painful to watch. Thousands of miles separating them, and all he wants is to crawl through the screen and hold him and tell him it’s going to be okay. 

“I can’t lose you,” Ed says again, when he’s finally able to squeeze words out past his sobs. This time, though there’s something more beyond the despair, something that Stede recognizes as determination in the set of Ed’s chin, the flash of his eyes.

Stede grits his teeth, remembering what Izzy had said about Ed coming to him, begging for help to save Stede. “Edward, look at me.” Ed sniffs and looks up at Stede. “On the day, you have to promise me you won’t volunteer.”

Ed looks immediately caught out, opening his mouth to argue.“Stede-“

“No, Ed, this isn’t negotiable.” Stede’s voice is firm, hopefully firm enough to make Ed understand that he’s not fucking around with this. “If I get out of there, we can do our plan. But if you’re in there with me… Edward, I can’t even let that happen. Promise me.”

Ed shuts his mouth, glancing down at his hands. Tears spill from his eyes still as he pauses, then nods, choking out, “I promise, I won’t.”

-

The weather on Reaping Day betrays the circumstances. It’s warm and sunny, the kind of spring day that would usually see Stede out in the meadow watching the birds all day. Stede doesn’t even know why they’re having a Reaping. It’s just him and his father on stage, with Jackie between them. She looks like she’s been crying, red, puffy eyes hidden behind her makeup. She’s forgone the usual red brocade she wears on Reaping Days, instead wearing a short silver dress, covered in fringe and glitter, a slit all the way up one side to her hip, its sequins catching the sunlight and acting like her own personal mirrorball. Her hair is piled high in locks, with mirror pieces sticking out of the sides. She looks lovely, despite the circumstances.

Jackie steps up to the microphone and takes a deep breath. “Welcome, everyone. Welcome to the 75th annual Hunger Games and third Quarter Quell reaping. Given our—” the words seem to get caught in her throat, like she’s horrified to read them. She has to clear her throat, turning away from the microphone to hide the sound of it. “Given the situation, here in District 12, the tributes are decided for us. Representing District 12, we have Edward Bonnet, and…and Stede Bonnet.”

There are no cheers, no applause, no recognition of any sort of respect like there was in the Capitol or during the Victory Tour. Everyone’s silent for so long, you could hear a pin drop. A woman in the front row kisses three fingers to her lips and raises them above her head. Mary’s mother. Her father follows suit, then all her brothers and sisters, and soon enough the entire crowd. Stede does the same gesture, though his father doesn’t, and neither does his mother at the very back of the crowd. Stede keeps his face straight, only allowing tears to stream down his cheeks. This is being broadcast across Panem, might as well show he still has fight in him.

He keeps his hand raised even as the Peacekeepers drag him towards the building. They won’t even let him and his father say goodbye to his mother. Stede doesn’t know why he struggles against them, god knows his mother doesn’t deserve the effort, but she at least deserves a goodbye. They overpower him though, and they’re forced onto the train. 

The train pulls away from the station almost immediately, without any of the usual fanfare. Stede and his father, no words shared between them, make their way to the living area, where the other Reapings are being broadcast. The two of them and Jackie are glued to the screen watching them in silence. The only sign any of them give that they aren’t alone in the room is Jackie’s hand on Stede’s thigh when he sits next to her, a gentle squeeze and then just a comforting weight.

It’s a sad affair. District 12 isn’t the only district with a small pool of Victors, and in several they’ve opted to pull from one single bowl rather than separate the Victors by gender.

District 11, he watches Jim be Reaped. They don’t go quietly, holding up the same three-finger salute and screaming, calling the President and everyone in the Capitol murderers. It doesn’t matter what they do now, the Capitol will take care of them in the arena.

District 8, Rachel is the only living woman victor. Stede’s heart drops, thinking of Sam. Her companion, the other District 8 tribute, makes his father break out in a smile, a victor that sends fear into the hearts of most who see him. Ned Low. He doesn’t have the most kills like his father, but he makes up for in sadistic torture of his victims. He was nearly killed by the Capitol in his Games for taking things too far and threatening to eat another tribute. Ned’s the only Victor his father seems to be friends with.

District 5, Oluwande volunteers. Stede has no idea why he would. The man that was Reaped wasn’t old or frail in any sort of way. He thinks of Jim, watching from their own train, how angry they must be at him.

District 2, Sam is Reaped. There are cries of shock and anger in the audience now. A screaming child can be heard, who Stede guesses must be his daughter. His neice, who he had adopted after already having lost both her birth parents, losing her father now too. He yells out to her, “I’m sorry, Cassie, I promise I’ll be back! I love you so much!” before the door slams shut, and it cuts to District 1.

Stede can hardly breathe, watching Fang make his way up to the microphone. He reaches into the bowl of women’s names, his shoulders sagging. “The lady representing District 1… Zheng Yi Sao.”

She stands up behind Fang on stage, the 40th Victor, older than Stede’s father by nearly 10 years. Like Sam’s Reaping, there are shouts of horror and anger in the crowd. Stede knows that Zheng has children. He can see them at the front of the crowd, tears streaming down their cheeks as they shout for their mother, having to be held back by who he knows is Zheng’s aunt. Zheng wipes her eyes, searching her children out, clasping her arms to her chest in a hug when she finds them. 

Fang moves to the second bowl, a shroud of weariness upon him, as if he feels the entire weight of the crowd on his back. His hand scrabbles in the bowl before finally grasping a card and pulling it out. “The man representing District 1…”

The camera pans through the five Victors, and Stede swears they linger on Ed longer than everyone else, though maybe that’s just Stede’s perception. He promised, Stede reminds himself. It’s not going to be him.

Fang winces, “Israel Hands.”

Before Izzy can even stand, Ed is on his feet, shouting, “I volunteer as tribute!” 

There’s a crash in the train car and Stede realizes he’s standing, too, having knocked over a charcuterie board. On screen, Izzy is on his feet, yanking at Ed’s arm, clearly arguing with him, pleading with him, but Ed wrenches free, stepping forward. Stede can hear Liz in the crowd, screaming, and Ed finds her, mouths that he loves her. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, he—” Stede simultaneously feels faint, like he’s going to pass out, and like throwing the screen projector across the room. He settles for lurching to the side, collapsing against the wall of the train car. “What—He—No, I…”

“Stede.” He feels a hand on his shoulder and he clutches at the neck of Jackie’s dress. 

“He promised,” he insists. “He promised. He promised.” He watches Ed and Zheng also give the salute, Ed stoic, with tears streaming down his face. Stede takes one of the glass vases on a table and smashes it. “He fucking promised!”

There’s a sinister look on his father’s face, looking like the cat that got the cream. A victim was just handed to him on a silver platter.

The room starts spinning. He needs to not be in here. He stumbles through the room, blindly searching for his door, and finally finds it. He shuts and locks it. He doesn’t know when he’ll come back out.

“Well, Lucius, this certainly will be a very interesting Quarter Quell, a Hunger Games All-Stars of sorts. Who were you most surprised by in today’s reaping?”

“I think I speak for all of us, Frenchie, when I say that when Edward Teach—fresh off his win in the 74th Games—volunteered, I was absolutely shocked. He’ll be competing alongside his co-Victor and fiance, Stede. That’s just heartbreaking.”

“You can say that again. You spent a few weeks on the road with them, were you expecting this at all?

“Absolutely not, it’s a risky move on his part, and one where he and Stede can’t end up together.”

“The shocking reaping of Sam Bellamy personally got to me.”

“Oh, are you a fan, Frenchie?”

“Of course I am! Who isn’t? I’ll definitely be interested to see what he does in the coming Games. 

They get to the Capitol soon enough. Stede forgot how quick the journey really is when they’re not constantly stopping along the way. There’s a knock at the door. Stede hasn’t left his room at all since Ed did his little stunt, and a full night has passed with him lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, vacillating between despair and fury. He fell asleep at some point, he knows, but he’s not sure exactly how much sleep he got. Stede unlocks the door and falls back on the bed. “It’s open.”

Jackie walks in, holding the outfit Stede will wear when they arrive. Her face is downcast and she looks pitifully at Stede. Stede sits up and allows himself to be enveloped in one of her crushing hugs. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” he squeaks out.

“That was an idiot move on his part.” Stede begins to protest, but Jackie shuts him down. “No, you know I’m right. It’s okay to be angry at him.”

Stede melts a bit further into her arms. He knows he doesn’t need permission to be angry with Ed, but the acknowledgment of his feelings is something else entirely. He is angry at Ed, furious. “He—Ed promised he wouldn’t.” 

Jackie pats him on the back before letting him go. “It’s bullshit. I can only imagine the shitstorm he got from Izzy.”

It’s reassuring, at least, having her on his side. God knows John will be, but he’s waiting in the Spa for him. 

The Spa.

He’s going to have to see Ed today. Going to have to come face-to-face with him. He doesn’t know what he’ll do. Ignore him? Confront him? Something in between?

“We’re gonna be there in about half an hour,” she says. “You don’t need to be super made up, just presentable. Okay?”

“My version of presentable and the Capitol’s is very different,” Stede says. If it were up to him, he would deboard the train just like this, in the Capitol-provided pyjamas with bed-mussed hair and red-rimmed eyes. 

“I’d like the Stede version.” She quirks her eyebrows. 

Stede smiles weakly at her, pulling the outfit closer. “Alright. Thank you again, Jackie. For everything.”

She smiles at him, and wipes away tears collecting in her eyes. “Hey now, you haven’t gotten rid of Jackie yet. I’ll get you through this, okay?”

“Okay.” Stede says, resigned. Jackie pulls him into another hug, rubbing his back and kissing the top of his head. He wishes he got the same sort of satisfaction from his own mother’s hugs like he does with Jackie. As far as he knows, she doesn’t have any children, but she treats Stede as her own. It’s comforting, having her and Liz to hold him like this. It makes up for the complete lack of supportive parental figures in his life.

“Well,” she pulls away and starts, “put that on, and we’ll head out to get you ready for tonight.” She lingers in the doorway. “And Stede.” He looks up at her. “He lied to you. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

She walks away, the click of her heels getting quieter down the hall. She’s right, he did lie, and after months of him trying and trying to reconcile with Ed over what happened in the arena. And he just—just does this?! It’s making Stede’s blood boil over in anger. He clenches at his shirt as he tucks it into the light blue trousers. He needs to do something about this. 

Something productive that won’t send him into a spiral. He needs to say something to Ed.

They reach the Capitol to the typical fanfare. Stede barely notices it, his mind fixed on one place and one person. They’re led down to the Spa, and in the second spot, in between Zheng and Sam, he sees him. Ed’s laying on his stomach while the attendants wax his legs (much to his chagrin, wincing with every rip). He spots Stede, and sits up, a look of guilt on his face, “Stede, I can explain—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence before Stede’s in front of him, a hand on Ed’s collar, pulling him close to shout, “You promised!”

Peacekeepers appear, yanking him away from Ed, barking, “No assaulting tributes outside the arena!”

As they pull him away, he screams at Ed, “You fucking promised!” 

He gets one last look at Ed’s shocked face before he’s pulled away down the hall to his own space. 

Other tributes look up and watch him be dragged away to his station, some of them laughing, some of them shocked and staring. Stede’s unceremoniously dumped at his station where he wrenches free from the Peacekeepers’ grip. His chest is heaving with heavy breaths as he jumps up to sit on the table. He just wants to get this over with. 

The curtain on his right is yanked back with a screech of metal on metal. Jim is there, their hair freshly shaved on the sides, giving them a curly mullet. “What the fuck just happened?”

Stede drags his hands down his face, groaning, “I—I just screamed at Ed. Right in his face.”

“You what?” They laugh, ignoring the protests of their makeup team to cross over and give Stede a friendly punch in the arm. “That’s—fuck, Bonnet, that’s hilarious, I didn’t think you had that in you.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” Stede admits. “I was just so angry at him, and—and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Don’t you worry, I fucking get it, fuck.” They roll their eyes as they’re forced back down onto the table to get their eyebrows waxed, though the attendants don’t close the curtain. “Olu pulled the same shit, I fucking screamed at him when I got here.”

Stede is forced to lay down, his team plucking at his eyebrows. “Did you really?”

Jim laughs. “Yeah, would have done more if the Peacekeepers weren’t fucking waiting for me.” They raise their eyebrows at Stede sardonically. “I’m not exactly known for my cooperation here in the Capitol.”

“I’ve heard,” Stede says with a chuckle. He pauses before turning to look at them. “So is that real?”

“What?”

“You and Oluwande? You’re, like, together?”

Jim sputters, their cheeks darkening. “What?! N-no, we’re just friends.”

“Friends.” Stede snorts. “Right. Like me and Ed were just supposed to be friends?”

“No,” they insist. “Like, actually friends. That’s it.”

Stede raises his eyebrows disbelievingly. “Mmkay, sure. Ow, fuck. Do you have to be so rough?” he asks the beautician who’s currently tossing half of his eyebrow stuck to a wax strip in the trash, but they just ignore him.

They fall into silence for a few minutes as their attendants work on them, before Jim suddenly says, “Wande’s too good for all of this. Like, me, yeah, I get it. I’m loud, I don’t have a problem saying shit I shouldn’t, makes sense they’d want me gone. But Olu…” They sigh. “He keeps his head down. He doesn’t cause trouble. If he would have just stayed put…” Stede, his head finally freed from the torture of waxing, turns his head to the side to look at them. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to him in there. He’s getting out. If it’s the last fucking thing I do, he’s getting out.”

“I get it,” Stede says, and they look over to meet his eyes. “Ed doesn’t belong here. He never did. He volunteered to save his mom, and now he’s volunteered to save me, and I…” Stede’s voice catches and he shakes his head, clearing his throat. “I’m going to get him back to Liz.”

Jim nods, their eyes holding his. “Family, right? That’s what it’s all about.”

Stede glances to the other side of him, where he knows his father is behind the curtain, receiving the same treatment as the rest of them. He’s family, technically, as is his mom, but he knows what Jim means. It’s the family that you choose. Maybe that includes the people who raised you, who you’re related to, but it doesn’t have to. Ed. Liz. Jackie and John and Fang and Lucius. All people who have helped him, cared about him. He’s known them for such a short amount of time, but they’re more his family than his parents ever were. 

Jim knows all too well about losing everyone they hold close.

“Yeah. Family.”

Ed’s neck is still sore from the way Stede grabbed his shirt. Out of all the reactions he had expected and prepared for from Stede, that wasn’t one of them. His face, his eyes, bloodshot from a night of crying, the pain in his voice. Fuck, he needs to talk to him. It’s not hard to spot him in the waiting area for the tribute parade, his hair shining like a golden halo under the warm orange light of the setting sun. 

Ed pushes through the crowd, making his way over to him, careful to mind his own cape and skirt (smacking several people with the massive plume of purple ostrich feathers in the process however).

“Stede!” he calls out. Stede doesn’t even raise his head, instead focusing on John hemming his trousers. If Ed wasn’t focused on trying to get Stede to understand why he did it, he would comment on how beautiful he looks. All in gold and shiny black silk, catching the light like flames, gold eyeliner bringing out the brightness in his eyes. Ed melts a brief moment, but remembers why he ran over. “Stede please, let me explain.”

“Edward,” he bites out, only sparing Ed a glance. He doesn’t even flick his eyes in the direction of Ed’s neck, exposed with his hair piled atop his head or his bare arms. “I’ll speak to you tonight, on the roof. At the usual place.” He and John turn away, moving to talk to Jim and their stylist. 

Ed just stands there. He feels like a complete idiot, but he had to do it. He couldn’t just let Stede go in there alone! He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to Stede and he wasn’t there to save him.

He makes the journey back to his chariot, petting the black horse that pulls it on its nose. “Hey, mate,” he says softly to it, “how’d we get here, huh?”

“Blackbeard!” a voice crows, and Ed glances over to see Sam swaggering over. The nickname is pointless right now. Ed’s been shaved clean by the prep team and they’ve slathered on more of that hair growth shit Ivan made. But if the name has stuck, it’s stuck, Ed supposes.

“Sam.”

“How’s it going, man?”

“Could be better, given the circumstances.” Shit, Ed’s brain short circuits, actually seeing him.

Jesus Christ, they’ve put Sam in only a pair of tactical military pants and combat boots, and oiled up his chest. Ed tries to hide how much this is doing it for him. Sam slaps him on the shoulder, the muscles in his arms bunching and rippling beneath his tanned skin. “You’re on your way, you know?” he muses. “Just like I was. It’s a real shame with this quell, you know, you and Stede could’ve made out like bandits. All the Capitol jewels, clothes, money, anything you wanted.”

Ed rolls his eyes. This isn’t Sam at Peak Daddy quite yet, but he’s certainly acting much more cocky than he had when they met on the Tour. “Well, I don’t need more clothes, and I have more money than I could ever want. What did you do with all your wealth anyway?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t dealt in anything as common as money in years. Not my bag, but these Capitol people will do anything for even a moment of time with their ‘daddy’. Bit fucking pathetic if I’m being honest.” Sam chuckles, as if this is the most normal situation to be in. It must be, for a Victor as popular with the public as him.

Ed leans against the chariot, folding his arms. “Then how do people pay for the pleasure of your company?”

Sam looks around and leans in, his voice a husky whisper. “Secrets.” He looks at Ed, as if examining him. “What about you, Blackbeard?” He smirks and cocks his head. “ Any secrets worth my time?”

I killed my father. Stede and I are being targeted by the Capitol. Our engagement is a sham. All of these would be worth telling, but he doesn’t want to give Sam the satisfaction. “I don’t have any. I’m an open book. Everyone seems to already know everything about me.”

Sam smirks, “Unfortunately I think that’s true.” The five-minute warning bell sounds. “The public awaits,” he says pointing to the speakers. He turns on his heels to leave, but pauses. “I’m sorry you had to cancel your wedding. Heartbreaking really.” He walks away, and Ed feels strange. Sam knows how to work his angles and get what he wants out of people. He’s done that since he was 14 and won the Hunger Games. He wants something from Ed: his trust, his loyalty, his alliance in the Games, something. With information to hold over him, he can get that. Fucking diabolical.

He joins Zheng on the chariot. She looks behind them at their District 2 competition, raising an eyebrow. “See you got to meet his highness, Sam Bellamy,” she observes in her wry voice.

“He’s nice. A bit intimidating though.”

“Yeah,” she laughs, “sounds like him. Just wait until you see him with a crossbow. See how nice he is then.”

That’s right, he’s also Ed’s competition. One that knows this competition and everyone else in it better than Ed could ever dream to be right now. So does Zheng. So does Rachel, so does Jim, so does Oluwande, so does Edward Bonnet. Everyone could easily kill him and Stede if they wanted. 

His heart starts pounding at the realization that he’s made a horrible mistake, syncing with the beats of the drums that play as the chariots roll out.

It’s chilly out on the roof of the tribute center. The wind whistles by through the tall buildings and buffets Stede’s plush robe. He wraps it tighter around himself. Ed should be here any moment now. They made eye contact in the lobby when they were heading back up, Ed nodding in understanding of their plan to meet. 

Stede’s been thinking about how he screamed at Ed all day, cringing at the memory of it. As angry, as furious as he is, the fact that he resorted to that… God, it makes him feel horrible.

The door clicks open. Stede looks over at the figure standing, backlit by the entrance light. Edward. 

He crosses the balcony over to Stede, standing opposite him in the same shelter they had their first talk in almost exactly a year ago. 

Neither says anything for a time. Below them, the celebrations are in full swing, just like last year. He and Ed move to the railing and Stede curls his fingers around the metal, both of them staring into the shimmering lights of the Capitol. 

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier,” Stede finally starts. He glances to Ed, his stomach twisting in knots. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, it was…fucking childish of me.”

Ed responds back, his voice small voice, “‘S okay. I wanted to explain to you why I did it.”

“Oh, please.” Stede laughs with no humor behind it. “I know why you did it. That’s not what I care about here.” He turns, crossing his arms. “How could you? Seriously, Ed, I didn’t have a choice in this matter. I was bound to this from the moment Badminton announced it. But you had a chance! And I fucking—I begged you not to. You gave me your word that you wouldn’t.”

“Stede—“

“No, Edward, you promised me that you wouldn’t volunteer. And you just—you fucking lied to me?!”

“I had to,” Ed says with more force, taking a step closer. “I couldn’t let you go in there alone. Do you have any fucking idea how I would feel if I had to watch you die on television?”

“Yeah, I do, because it’s the same exact way I’m going to feel if you die in there because of me when you would have been safe.” Stede jabs his finger in Ed’s chest. “You have said from the very beginning that I have the makings of a winner. I killed people in that arena. I could’ve made it out this time, and yet you feel the need to protect me?”

“Yeah, I fucking do, okay?” Ed yells, grabbing Stede by the shoulders. “Wake up, Stede. Even if you get out, they’d just find another way to kill us! We could never fucking do our plan!”

“And now we never will.” 

“No, we’ll figure it out, we—”

“Oh, come on, Edward. They aren’t going to let both of us win, not again. Not with all the trouble we’ve made.” Stede grips Ed’s shirt, the silky fabric nearly slipping through his fingers. “It’s one of us, or neither of us.”

The words hang cold in the air as slow realization dawns on Ed’s face. Stede feels tears spring to his eyes. He slumps down onto the bench in the shelter. “I had a dream about you a few days before the Reaping.”

Ed silently sits next to Stede. 

“We were living together. We had this adorable house in the woods with a garden and goats and chickens. You had on this gorgeous sundress and,” a sob breaks out of him, “we had a baby, Ed. She looked just like you.” Stede lifts his hand to Ed’s cheek, softly grazing his cheekbone with his thumb. “Beautiful dark curls, deep brown eyes, a smile that glowed.” 

They thread their hands together, leaning on one another’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Stede.” Ed sucks in a breath. “I fucking ruined this.”

Stede turns his head to look at Ed better, sighing. “No.” They’re in this now, and he’ll accept this, he has to, but they need a plan. “They ruined this. And we’ll do what we always do. We’ll tackle this together.” He knocks his forehead with Ed’s, and kisses him, softly. He pulls back, only a little bit, his lips grazing Ed’s as he says, “If I’m going to go out, I’d rather do it with you than anyone else.”

Chapter Text

Before heading to the training center for their first day of training, Izzy holds a debrief in the sitting area of the District 1 apartment. Ed had invited Stede to come last night before they went their separate ways for bed, so he’s here, dressed in the Capitol-issued training uniforms. There’s no question that he and Ed will be teaming up together this time, but there’s still the question of what their strategy will be facing off older, more experienced, more well-connected Victors. The goal right now is to debrief and plan around their most serious competition. Izzy has an entire dossier on everyone, five inches thick, with video.

Stede sits opposite Ed on the couch, their hands outstretched between them and fingers tangled together, Jackie sitting on the loveseat adjacent to them. Izzy stands across the room by the TV, his ever-present frown turned full scowl. Ed shifts uncomfortably in his seat, viscerally reminded of the screaming fit he got from Izzy after volunteering. 

“Forget everything you two know about the Hunger Games,” Izzy says, his tone deadly serious. “You think you know how it works, but these people know it better. You’re dealing with trained killing machines, Capitol favorites, longtime friends... They will not hesitate to kill either one of you.” Ed feels Stede tighten his grip on his hand. He glances over, the furrow of Stede’s brow and purse of his lips betraying his anxiety. Izzy continues, “Your best bet is to get allies and sponsors. Being allied with anyone in this field will be crucial.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re on good terms with Sam and Zheng,” Ed says. Izzy just glares at him, a look of simmering anger. “Just… just saying.”

“Even if you think you are on their good side right now, don’t think for a second that you’re out of the woods.” He flips to the first video, of Ed’s reaping. “Zheng Yi Sao, a master swordsman and hand-to-hand combat expert. She’s the only tribute in history to win without ever using a weapon, aside from her own hands.”

Ed shrugs, remembering the easy way they had chatted last night, the way she had reminded him that everyone else is competition. “Seems easy enough to impress her.”

“She’s also excellent at manipulation.” He flicks through various shots from her Games, showing her getting close to other tributes, endearing them to her. “She got half the field on her side, had them kill the other half for her, and then turned them against each other. In the end, she only had to kill three people. Do not trust her.”

Speak of the devil, Zheng walks into the room, a mug of tea in her hands. She doesn’t say anything, but gives Izzy an incomprehensible look. Ed knows they’ve known each other for years. Izzy lives next to her, they’ve worked several Games together as mentors, and he knows her brain better than anyone here. If he thinks she’s not to be trusted, then he must be right. She leaves the room, heading down to the training center early.

He flips to the next tributes, a man and woman hanging off each other at some sort of social function, smiling and waving. “District 3, Gabriel and Antoinette, back-to-back married Victors, very popular in the Capitol with sponsors.”

“Aren’t they cousins?” Ed asks.

Stede fake vomits. “I heard they were siblings.” It was quite the scandal in the upper echelon of Panem. Stede’s father didn’t like them on that basis alone. The Capitol didn’t seem to care, although their appearances were lessened significantly after rumors started to swirl.

“The less we know about them the better, in my opinion.” He runs through a few clips of them in their respective arenas, a shot of Antoinette burying a knife in a boy’s back followed by one of Gabriel fending off a clubbed attack. “They’re proficient in survival and knife work, but aside from that, not a threat.” 

The slide clicks, “District 4, Nathaniel Buttons.” The man on the screen is older, bald on top with long blond hair on the sides. He opens his mouth, revealing filed down teeth, sharp, like that of a great white shark.

“What the fuck is with his teeth?” Ed leans forward.

Izzy sighs and vaguely gestures. “He had them sharpened to rip out people’s throats.”

Stede raises his eyebrows, grimacing. “Well, it’s inventive, I’ll give him that.”

“Guy’s fucking weird. Claims he can talk to animals. He used the jabberjays in his arena to drive the other tributes to madness and kill themselves.” 

“Jesus,” Ed says under his breath.

“Yeah. I’d keep my fucking distance, honestly. He’s tough but unpredictable.” Izzy clicks to the next slide. “District 5, Oluwande Boodhari. Genius with electronics, real tech savvy. He won his games by electrocuting five tributes at once. What he lacks in traditional weapon usage, he more than makes up for with know-how, creativity, and survival. Not unlike Stede here.”

Ed shifts uncomfortably. He remembers Oluwande from John and Frencie’s wedding. He’d liked him. Had thought maybe they could become something like friends in the years to come. 

He and everyone in Panem knows Oluwande has worked with the Capitol on a number of projects, mostly related to repairing the steadily failing power grids in the more wealthy Districts and on weapons with the Capitol military. The second the Capitol sees a tribute is even a little bit successful at something, just a hint of a talent that might benefit their home District, they snatch them up. Ed doesn’t want to assume anything of him, but he can’t help it with that sort of track record.

Izzy clicks to the next slide, “District 6, William Kidd and Charlotte de Berry.”

“Shit, I completely forgot he was reaped,” Ed remarks.

“William’s a master engineer, can make a weapon out of literally anything around him, and he’s got the record for most kills during the bloodbath.”

“He’s also fine as hell,” Jackie says from her seat. She groans and bites her lip. “What I wouldn’t give for some alone time with him.”

Izzy rolls his eyes. “He’s a favorite with the Capitol, as you can see. Charlotte, on the other hand, is more of a wildcard. She essentially won her games on accident, hiding out the entire time and winning once the other survivor fell on their own sword. They have some prowess in archery, but survival and stealth is more her thing. I wouldn’t say they’re a threat, but might be a decent ally.”

“I mean, I don’t know, can we even trust someone like that?” Stede asks skeptically. “Sounds like someone who wouldn’t hesitate to abandon us if things started going south.”

Izzy glares at him, hard. “You can’t really trust any of them,” he snaps, gesturing to the screen. “That’s the whole fucking point of this. But you need allies, which means you need to figure out which of these fucking psychos are worth the risk. Got it?”

Stede clenches his jaw but nods, chagrined. Ed squeezes his hand.

“One psycho definitely not worth the risk?” Izzy continues, clicking through to the next side to a man that immediately makes Ed cringe and Stede audibly groan. “Ned Low, absolute no go. He’s on the same side as your father,” Izzy points at Stede. “Insane fucking prick. Tied the record for most kills, and drew out his Games by days because of his sadistic pleasure from torturing his victims. Stay as far away as possible.”

“I’ve met him,” Stede says, grimacing. “At some Capitol thing my dad dragged us to. He and my dad are friends, so that should tell you all you need to know about him.”

“Yeah, absolutely not fucking interested in anything to do with this fucking guy,” Ed says as a clip of him in his pre-Games interview plays, where he talks about his “great passion” for music. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll accidentally strangle himself on his own fucking violin strings.” Stede snorts.

They go through the whole roster, most of them old or not worth their time, a few that are good with specialty weapons, some unlucky son of a bitch that won the 73rd Games only to be reaped now, one insane duo from District 10 whose older tribute (named SteakKnife of all things) looks like he could eat the other tribute in one swallow, and finally Sam and Rachel and Jim. Their “go-tos” as Izzy put it, since they already seem to know each other well.

With that, they’re sent off to the training center, with full knowledge of everyone who will be gunning to slit their throats when given the chance and a plan to feel out their potential allies.

“We have to keep our cool,” Ed says in a low voice to Stede as they walk into the training center. It’s been renovated, somehow even more impressive and intimidating than last year’s. It’s fit with all kinds of new equipment and specialty training rooms, more holographic training simulations. “Act like they don’t scare us.” Stede nods, mouth set in a firm line.

As soon as they walk in, sounds of grunting and sword blows fill their ears. Thunks of bows and arrows, crossbows, spears, and throwing knives against dummies sound out, hitting their target every time. The smell of smoke from the fires being made in the survival training rooms wafts through the air. There’s an overall feeling of dread watching all of these grown adults, some past their prime, yes, but most still fit and able, who wouldn’t hesitate to kill them right now if it meant them winning.

Stede takes a deep breath and strides forward. “Well, into the lion’s den we go.”

They separate to cover more ground, Stede heading over to the survival rooms and Ed towards weapons.

-

Olu is vigorously twisting a stick against a log with little success in getting a substantial fire going. “Friction makes heat, heat makes fire, naturally. Add oxygen to that and I should be doing this right—”

“Starting from the top should help,” Stede interrupts, demonstrating the motion they should be doing, “twisting from top to bottom. It gives more leverage. Or using another stick and a shoestring to make a bow so you’re not wearing out your hands.”

He watches as Olu switches up the technique, trying out the first method Stede showed. After a few tries, a tiny spark lights up a collection of tinder they had set aside. Olu gasps in delight.

“A little leverage—” Buttons starts.

“—Goes a long way,” Olu finishes, exchanging a satisfied smile with Buttons. Stede kneels beside them as Olu looks back at him. “Thank you.”

Stede shrugs. “It’s nothing really. Just something I picked up.”

“It’s not nothing, mate, this shit’s important, thank you,” Olu insists. “Kind of essential to know how to start a fire without tinder or matches.”

Buttons’ attention has shifted, his eyes narrowing as he looks past them, towards the box holding all the gamemakers. He grins, exposing his sharpened teeth. Stede feels a chill run up his spine. Being this close, the sharp teeth are especially unnerving. They make Stede’s skin crawl at the thought of being bitten. “By the corner of the table,” Buttons says, cryptically.

Stede turns, but he doesn’t see anything. “What, by David?” David Jenkins, the new head gamemaker, who Stede had met at John and Frenchie’s wedding, is standing there, a cocktail in his hand, watching over everyone training. “I don’t see anything.”

Oluwande lifts his glasses and laughs. “Look right there.” He maneuvers Stede’s chin to where he should look. “See the shimmer?”

It takes a bit of squinting, it’s hard to see in this light, but finally he does. It’s a subtle rainbow wave, not dissimilar to the way the air seems to wobble when it’s really hot out. “What is that? I-is that a force field?”

Olu nods, dropping his hand to his side, and laughs, exchanging another look with Buttons. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

Stede immediately feels like he’s missed something staring him right in the face. “Is it that obvious?”

“They may as well have put a sign.” Buttons says, deadpan. “Twats don’t want us attacking them.”

“Oh.” Stede huffs out a deprecating laugh. “Could be my fault. I did trap Nigel Badminton in a snare last year.”

“Oh my god, I heard about that!” Oluwande chuckles, sitting back on his hands. “That was you? Fuck, mate, that’s incredible.” Olu gestures around the room. “Look around us though. Lights flicker, holograms crash, systems need rebooting. What does it mean?”

It takes a lot of power to keep a force field up, especially if the force field is meant to be so strong it keeps out all the tributes and prevents them from hurling weapons at the gamemakers, while also making them look like they have power over them by being in the open. And that power has to come from somewhere. “All the power is going to the force fields.”

“Exactly.” Olu glances around the room before leaning in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “There’s always a flaw in the system.”

-

Ed walks past row after row of tributes at the weapon stations, all of them precisely accurate with every throw and shot. Jim is in one of the simulation rooms and Ed stops to watch as they hurl knives with deadly accuracy. The holograms dissolve into nothing but cubes on the floor with each throw. Like the rabbit in the forest room just last year.

He moves on and finds Sam, his weapon of choice being a crossbow. He hits a bullseye, smack in the center of the dummy’s chest, and turns. “Hey, Blackbeard, come to train with the master, I see,” he bellows as he maneuvers the bow to reload it. He works the crank easily, muscles bulging until the string is pulled taut and he sets another arrow into place.

Ed tries—and fails—to keep his eyes off Sam’s bare arms. Good fucking god, he’s got to get a handle on this crush. “I couldn’t decide on what to do,” he says, tearing his eyes away. “Me and Stede kinda split up to talk to people for a bit.”

Sam leans his weight to one side, cocking his head. “You ever shot before?”

It’s honestly been years since Ed’s shot a bow. Once they discovered his prowess for swords, they had focused on that in training. “Not in a while.”

“It’s not too hard.” He drops the crossbow in Ed’s arms. It’s surprisingly lighter than it looks, settling in Ed’s arms comfortably. Chalk that up to Capitol technology. “Just take a deep breath in, aim, release, and breathe out.”

Ed frowns, lifting the crossbow up, studying it. “You don’t breathe?”

“Fuck no. I do it between heartbeats too, to be extra precise.”

“You’re scaring him,” a voice says from right next to them. Ed just manages to not jump; he hadn’t even heard them approach. Charlotte de Berry. They have a bow in their hand and a quiver of arrows on their back. They’re tiny, can’t be taller than five feet, and yet she commands herself here. She draws back her bow, showing the correct stance. “Get a feel for the weapon first, have it feel natural in your grasp and test it out a few times. And once you’re ready,” —they breathe in and release the bow, getting a bullseye in the dummy’s head— “you’ll be getting results like that.”

“Whoa.”

They give him a sly smile, using the top of their bow to give his head a gentle knock. “It’s all about focus, patience, and balance. You don’t wanna go in all guns blazing with no preparation.”

Sam smirks and nods. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll take it where you left off, Charlotte.”

They walk up to him, lifting up on their tiptoes to be almost eye level. “Thanks, daddy.” They give his cheek a peck before walking off. William Kidd follows. Ed somehow didn’t even notice him with her . He should be the stealth expert, rather than Charlotte.

Sam takes the crossbow back, and aims it at the dummy’s head, scowling. Clearly she hit a nerve with that little comment. “God, I hate that name,” he says under his breath as the arrow hits dead center.

After a few tries with the crossbow and the bow and arrow, with little success, Ed moves on. He locates the sword training section, itching for some movement, some way to get out the anxiety crawling under his skin. Swords are familiar, like coming home. One of the new additions to the training center is a holographic training system, designed so that tributes don’t have to spar with each other. 

While getting the kit on, he catches Stede’s father and Ned Low in the corner of his eye, talking in hushed tones. They make pointed looks at Ed and over at Stede and Rachel, who are working on snares together. Ed feels a shiver of unease run through him at the sight, the notorious Victors clearly plotting together. He grabs the sword, keeping an eye on them. It’s the same sort of lightweight steel blade they had in the last training center, similar to the one he had in the arena. He swishes it around, getting a feel for it in his hand. Ned and Edward Bonnet are still talking, now discreetly watching Ed. If they want a show, then so be it.

He starts the program up, setting it to one of the hardest difficulties, and makes a show of rolling his shoulders back to prepare for the onslaught. Enemy holograms start coming at him from all sides, some with their own swords, some shooting arrows, and a few without any weapons. Ed fights them back with expert precision, his years of career training finally kicking in. Until that last fight with Jack, he really hadn’t had much opportunity to showcase his skills in the arena last year, but this is different. He and Stede will be going against the best, and he needs to be at his best to protect Stede. He wants— needs— to make it clear that he and Stede aren’t easy targets. His mind nearly goes blank as he sinks into the fight, with his body taking over. Every reflex, parry, hit, block, and dodge, none of them feel under his control. They’re just reflexes, his body acting on instinct. 

The instincts are successful though, and the last hologram bursts into tiny cubes across the floor. Ed comes back to his body, sweating and panting breaths. His arms and legs feel like jelly, and his hand is cramping a bit from the blade. He turns his head and finally notices the crowd he seems to have drawn. Some watch on impressed, some barely amused, and there, off to the side, Stede excitedly claps at the display. 

He tries to hide a smile, exiting the training unit, and sets the blade back down on the sword rack. He pushes through the crowd to Stede, ducks his head to kiss Stede on the cheek, and walks towards the water station, only then realizing that he kissed Stede on the cheek, so nonchalantly and second nature for the first time since their fight that it barely even registered in his mind. Ed looks back, and Stede’s holding his hand to the spot. Ed holds out his hand, beckoning Stede to join him.

-

“You’ve got the pick of the litter!” Jackie exclaims, walking into the room where they’re all eating lunch in 12’s apartments. “17 tributes want you two to be allies.”

Izzy’s eyebrows raise in approval. “Not too bad. Now you just need to choose.”

Stede doesn’t hesitate, declaring, “I want Oluwande and Buttons,” in between bites of his sandwich.

“And I want Charlotte,” Ed adds. 

Jackie and Izzy exchange looks of disbelief. “Are you fucking joking?” Izzy asks. “ Seventeen of the most highly trained killers want you as allies, and you want Nuts and Volts?”

“Stede, you were the one who thought Charlotte couldn’t be trusted,” Jackie points out.

“I trust Ed,” Stede answers simply, leaning closer to bump their arms together. “If he thinks Charlotte would make a good ally, then I trust his judgment.”

Ed smiles softly, pressing his thigh against Stede’s. “Thanks, babe.”

Izzy sighs and drags his hands down his face. “Charlotte and William are gonna be impossible to separate. If you want Charlotte, you’re getting him too. And he doesn’t do well with others. The entire time I’ve known him, he’s barely talked to other Victors besides her.”

It’s known how reclusive William Kidd is. He’s not one to go to Victor events, opting to stay in 6 and do work for his district, sometimes helping with the rare infrastructure project in other districts. He and Charlotte must have a thing if they’re the only one he trusts, or he knows something they don’t.

“Then we want him too. Charlotte seemed approachable enough to be an ally, she could convince him.” 

“Fine, I’ll talk to them later.”

There’s something else though, something not related to their half-assed attempts to make allies, something that’s been eating at Ed ever since he saw it. “I saw Stede’s dad and Ned Low talking,” he says over the clinking silverware, “when I was at the swords. They’re plotting something.”

“Sounds about right for Ned Low. If anything, he’s planning your torture ahead of time,” Izzy says with a grimace.

“But you have something he doesn’t,” Jackie makes sure to add. “You have real weapons training. Ned’s more into the performance of it all. His kills were people who were already easy targets or injured people that he happened upon.”

Stede squeaks out a halfway disapproving noise. “Well, isn’t that a nice thought.” 

“He’s going to be using your father as muscle most likely. I’d worry about him more than Ned.”

It’s not fantastic reassurance. In fact, it’s not even close in Ed’s mind. Kill off the person who’d take you out quickly, then deal with his little henchman who gets off on a slow and methodical torture? It’s not fucking ideal. Ed looks between Izzy and Jackie, dumbfounded by the apathy they’re giving them right now. “So what, we just bide our time until we can get to his dad?”

Izzy shrugs, as if it’s barely even an important thought. “Yeah, your best bet, I suppose. He’s your biggest problem in that arena, ignoring all the other gamemaker bullshit they’ll pull in there. He is your biggest threat.”

Ed glances over to Stede, wondering how that news is sitting with him. But Stede doesn’t look concerned at all, assembling himself a second sandwich without even a crease in his brow. “Have you heard anything about the arena?” he asks instead, though they both know the likelihood of that is minimal.

“Highly classified. I couldn’t get info if I tried.” Izzy scowls as he stabs his fork into his salad. “The president doesn’t even know anything. It’s all that fucking Jenkins’ doing.”

“Believe me,” Jackie adds, “if we could know, we would.”

They both know that. They heard the same stuff this time last year, but some small part of them hoped it would be different somehow. Any information, no matter how small, would be helpful going in.

“For now, keep doing what you’re doing,” Izzy advises them. “Play nice with the other tributes, try to endear yourselves to them. Do whatever the fuck you have to do to make it hard for them to kill you.” Izzy pushes his plate away, standing up from the table, getting ready to go sniff out whatever other information he can. “You two are going to need all the help you can get.”

-

Later, after training and dinner, Stede slips out onto the roof to meet up with Ed again. They’re not technically supposed to be able to visit each other’s apartments, although that rule is lax during the day. But security kicks up a notch at night, sending alerts to the guards about any tributes in another district’s rooms—a way to prevent any attacks on other tributes when they’re asleep, which is rich considering Stede’s own districtmate is someone who’s already tried to kill him once. But that means that Stede has to make do without Ed in his bed tonight to snuggle up with or to combat the nightmares that inevitably come.

Not bloody optimal, in his opinion. Ed’s already waiting for him in the roof shelter when Stede approaches.He jumps at the sound of the door clicking shut, but softens when he sees it’s Stede. “Shit, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” Stede sits next to him, sliding close to share body heat in the chilly breeze. Ed slips his arm around Stede’s shoulders, pulling him fractionally closer. “You can’t sleep either?”

Ed shakes his head. “Nah, bed felt fucking huge. I tried bunching up pillows and shit, but nothing worked.”

“Mmm.”

They sit there a while, Ed’s thumb tracing up and down where his hand rests on Stede’s arm. 

“It’s fucked isn’t it?” Stede muses aloud.

“What? I mean, I know all of it, but what do you think is fucked?”

“I—“ He thinks back to what Ed said about seeing his father and Ned Low conspiring in the corner, and laughs despite himself. “My father. I mean, he decided to have me, he and my mom wanted me. And I’m just a fucking—I’m just a disappointment.”

“No, you’re not.”

“He wants to kill me, Ed, he’s wanted to kill me for years. And I practically serve myself on a silver platter and cause all this shit to happen so he finally gets a real chance to.”

“Hey, no, none of that,” Ed says in a more firm tone. “This isn’t your fault, okay? None of this is. We both fucked up in so many ways in the past few months, but it’s not our fault, it’s theirs. ” He physically turns Stede and pulls him into his chest, holding him tight, kissing the top of his head. “I can’t imagine a life without you. You’re not a disappointment. Your father’s the fucking disappointment.”

Stede leans back to look at him properly. Ed’s so beautiful in this light. He’s beautiful in every light, but with the pink and purple and blue hues from the Capitol lights bouncing off his face, he’s ethereal. “I love you.”

“I—“ Ed hesitates, and even though Stede understands why, everytime it still sends a pang through Stede’s chest knowing that he can’t say it yet. Ed leans forward, bumping their foreheads together. “I know, I know that.” He opens his hand for Stede to take and they tangle their fingers together. “We’re gonna have to kill your dad,” he says. He lifts his head, the multi-colored lights from below lighting up his eyes. “Are you—I dunno—okay with that?”

There isn’t a doubt in Stede’s mind. “Yes. Yes, I… It needs to be done, whatever it takes.”

They kiss, slow, soft, as if taking a mental note of the feeling of each other’s lips. 

-

The rest of the week of training goes about the same as the first: practicing survival skills, working with Ed on weapons, getting friendly with the people they want to be allied with, and having long talks on the roof before bed. 

They had a fitting today for the interview with Lucius, and the closer it gets, the more nervous Stede gets. He feels like his heart is on the verge of bursting out of his chest most of the time. The only time he feels even remotely close to calm is when he’s with Ed, and even then he’s thinking about how these are the last days they’ll ever spend together. 

There’s judgment in the morning. He should be getting sleep, but the bed feels so empty without Ed beside him. His inability to sleep without getting at least a good long cuddle with Ed beforehand is what brings him to the roof again that night. It’s empty when he comes out and he heads into the shelter, to their usual bench. 

He’s only out there for a few minutes when he hears the door to the roof open, but before he can get too excited at seeing Ed soon he hears voices. Two voices, talking in hushed tones to each other. Stede slips down below the low wall of the shelter.

“—come up with some kind of plan to deal with them.” It’s his father’s voice, which means the other person is…

“Your boy’s an easy one,” Ned Low said with his signature husky condescending register. “Him and his little boyfriend.”

Stede cautiously peeks past the wall. The two men are standing against at the railing, their backs to Stede, silhouetted against the lights of the city beyond. Twin clouds of smoke lift above their heads. 

His father grunts, taking another drag of his cigarette. “He’s a slippery little shit, you hit him and he just bounces back. Believe me, I’ve tried. Little fucker’s got half of them on their side now. With any luck, we’ll get him on day one. Now that we know to look in the trees, it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“What about the other one?”

His father scoffs, laughs really, at the mention of Ed. “Please, once Stede’s gone, he’ll off himself soon enough. They’re entirely codependent. It’s pathetic.”

Stede clenches his jaw at the complete dismissal of Ed. He shifts, trying to get more comfortable, and inadvertently scrapes his shoe along the floor. He ducks back down just as he sees his father start to turn. There’s silence, and then: “Let’s go. We shouldn’t be talking about this out in the open.” He hears their footsteps recede but doesn’t get up even after he hears the door close. 

Ed finds him there on the ground a few minutes later. “Stede? You okay?”

Stede looks up at him uneasily, reaching for Ed to join him. “Just thinking,” he starts when Ed’s settled in next to him. “We’re at a complete disadvantage. Everyone knows what we can do, our strategies and tricks.”

“I know,” Ed answers, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “But we know theirs too. We’ve just got to stick to the plan.”

“We’re going to have to be smart about this. We can’t do the same things we did last time.” 

It’s a whole new game now, like it or not. 

-

They gather in the training center the next morning and are led into an adjacent room to await judgment, just like last year.

Unlike last year, though, when the group was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, this time it’s anything but. The trainers struggle to get the tributes into some semblance of order, finally managing to get everyone to their seats to give out the instructions, but the moment they call the first tribute—Zheng—back to demonstrate her skills, the room dissolves into chaos. Voices rise as the tributes get out of their seats and mingle. On one side of the room, Stede can see Jim and Oluwande sitting crosslegged on the floor, their heads bent close together. Sam and Rachel aren’t too far away from them, apparently in a heated game of rock paper scissors. Stede’s father and Ned Low hover sinisterly at the edge of the room, talking in low voices, eyeing the other candidates. 

Stede gets up and makes his way to the opposite end of the room, slipping into the chair next to Ed. They only have a short amount of time before Ed will be called in, and then Stede will be forced to wait out the rest of the morning alone until he’s called. The two of them look around the room, the jovial atmosphere unlike anything they’ve experienced in the Games before. 

Ed squeezes Stede’s hand and Stede looks over to him. Ed leans in, his voice low and anxious. “How are we going to kill these people, Stede?”

Stede doesn’t have an answer. He just squeezes Ed’s hand back, the two of them sitting in silence together until the attendant comes in to call Ed in for judgment.

Chapter Text

“District 1, Edward Teach, please report for individual assessment.” 

The voice of the attendant booms and drowns out everyone’s conversations. Stede gives Ed’s hand one last squeeze and whispers, “Good luck.”

Ed just nods and grins back at him before disappearing behind the door.

The voice returns a moment later. “All tributes, return to your assigned seating, or we will be forced to send in peacekeepers.”

Everyone in the room groans, begrudgingly going back to sit down where they’d been trying to get everyone to sit the whole time. Jim slumps down next to Stede in 11 and 12’s row. “What do you think he’ll do?” They nod at the door. “Your man.”

“I don’t know, swords probably.”

“Olu told me what you did last year.” Stede doesn’t miss the vindictive smile that creeps onto their face. “Respect.”

“What he did is nothing to be ‘respected’,” his father interjects from Stede’s other side. “It’s fucking shameful.”

“To you, maybe, but for those of us who don’t live in a fantasy world where the Capitol respects us and treats us like humans, we found it deeply cathartic.”

Jim is fearless in the face of Edward Bonnet. They’ve interacted a few times before. Stede’s been subjected to several of his father’s rants about “that rebel sympathizer from 11” after he’d come back from mentoring. They don’t flinch when his father gives them one of his steely looks, one that would usually have promised a world of pain for Stede in training at home. Stede wishes he was like Jim, that he wasn’t afraid, knew where he stood and stood firm in it. He played Capitol sympathizer for so long, he has to wonder if the other tributes still see him like that. 

His father turns, closing himself off to any more conversation. “Let’s see how that serves you in the arena.”

“Gladly.”

“District 2, Samuel Bellamy, please report for individual assessment.” Sam gets up and leaves, shooting Rachel a wave and a wink. 

Ed is done. He’ll be going back to the apartment, Stede knows. What did he end up doing? Did he show off or keep it simple? Did he do survival or weapons? A thousand questions run through Stede’s mind, ones that probably won’t get answered until they meet later. 

The murmurs of conversation slowly get more and more quiet as the number of people in the room gets smaller and smaller. Jim isn’t exactly chatty, but they’re friendly enough with Stede. Enough to keep Stede occupied at least, until Jim is called in, and it’s only him and his father, and a chilling silence.

Stede almost considers moving seats, but can’t seem to will his legs to move, just shake in place. 

“You should feel grateful for everything the Capitol has done for us,” his father says, his voice hitting like a shock to Stede’s system. Though it’s soft, almost whispered, it rings in Stede’s ears like a sonic boom. “You’d have black lung by now working in the coal mines if it weren’t for their generosity to our family. They made you the man you are today.”

Fiery rage sweeps through Stede and he clenches his hands into fists in his lap. Grateful? For what? The Capitol did nothing. They provided the bare minimum medical care Stede needed to transition and that’s it, medical care that should be available to everyone in Panem, regardless if they’re the child of a victor. People like Ed’s mother shouldn’t have to rely on the money their child brings home after a death tournament to receive life-saving treatment. And Stede made himself the man he is today. Who is his father to all of the sudden care whether his son died in the mines like so many other boys and fathers in 12 he’s known? It’s not like he cared about any of them.  

“How generous are they if they send us into the arena again?” Stede shoots back.

“Stede Bonnet, District 12, please report for individual assessment.”

He gets up, looking down his nose at his father, the way his father has done to him countless times. “The boot you’re licking would sooner grind you into a fine powder than care about you.”

The door shuts on his father’s stunned silent face.

A large room stands before him, with racks of weapons and stations for survival equipment. On first glance, it’s pretty straightforward and similar to last year’s, but with a second look, there are glaring signs of dissent. Knives thrown into the wall around the frame of the window where the gamemakers watch (no doubt thrown there by Jim), messages of anger and resentment towards the Capitol drawn on the walls, weapons thrown haphazardly and stabbed into the floor, and… and a painting.

A painting on the floor of a girl surrounded by lavender, baby’s breath, and dandelions. Anne de Graffe, the girl Ed held as she died. 

Stede can immediately tell it’s Ed’s work, and tears come to his eyes. This poor girl, barely their age, rendered beautifully and lovingly as a sign of defiance. He nearly loses himself at the sight of her, until he finally registers the voice in his ears.

“Mr. Bonnet,” the head gamemaker, David Jenkins, says from his box, “you have 15 minutes to present any talent you choose from the materials provided.”

Oh, he’ll present to them alright. As soon as he’s turned loose, Stede locates one of the dummies used to show off snares and traps (obviously added in anticipation for Stede to make one). But instead of a trap, he finds the camouflage paint that Ed left strewn about the painting, and paints its face. There’s a mop leaning up against one of the walls, left there by some avox no doubt in preparation to clean up the room when the individual assessments are finished. He breaks off the head of a mop over his knee and fixes it on the dummy as hair. And finally, he grabs one of the lengths of rope, tying a noose knot, wraps it around the dummy’s neck, and tosses the other end across a beam near the ceiling. He hoists until it hangs in front of the gamemaker box, swinging slowly from side to side, neck bent at an unnatural angle. 

Stede bows deep, earning a smug grin from David that he can’t parse, and turns away. The hanging effigy of the former head gamemaker Nigel Badminton sways before them as he walks out of the room and towards the elevator. 

-

One of the positives about having been through this song and dance before is knowing exactly how things will go from this point on. Tonight they’ll announce each tribute’s score and then tomorrow are the interviews with Lucius. The time in between is meant to be used for preparing for the interview, talking strategies, making plans. But this go-around, they don’t need to prep. They know what to expect. And they know that whatever scores they’re given, high or low, they don’t really matter. They’re targets either way. 

So they decide to skip the broadcast.

Normally this would be exactly the kind of moment when Stede would escape to his meadow, but the closest equivalent they have here is retreating to the roof again. They’re not allowed to leave the Tribute Center or go down to the training rooms, so Ed is already waiting up on the roof for Stede when the door opens. 

“You sure you don’t want to go back to one of our places? Snuggle up in bed, watch one of their terrible movies?” Ed asks as Stede joins him at the edge of the roof, pulling Stede immediately in for a hug.

“No.” Stede gives him a squeeze before pulling back. “It’s a beautiful day, might as well enjoy it before they put us in a frozen tundra or fucking barren desert wasteland or whatever.”

“Fair enough.” Ed pulls Stede back away from the railing, guiding him to the little nest he’s put together with the comforter and pillows from his room. “Good thing I snuck these out so we can still snuggle out here.”

“Perfect.” They lie down on the blanket together on their back and Stede scoots immediately closer, getting as comfy as he can on the floor and resting his head on Ed’s chest. “It is really nice today.”

The clouds are big and puffy. It rained last night and these seem to be the stragglers from the storm. There are birds flying all around the other Capitol skyscrapers, using them like the birds in 12 would use the tall trees to scope out prey. 

Here, right now, it feels almost normal again, like they’re back at home in the meadow having a lazy afternoon basking in the warm early summer sun. Ed is lightly dragging a hand up and down Stede’s arm, and Stede’s doing the same, petting Ed’s chest.

“My mother wasn’t always bad,” Stede says suddenly, a memory popping into his mind as he stares at the clouds. “When I was really little, we would have our little afternoons out in the garden. One of the last times I remember her being openly affectionate really.”

Ed hums. “What’d you guys do?”

“We’d play, look at the flowers and smell them and make little bouquets for the kitchen. She’d read to me, we’d watch the birds, and she sang to me on occasion too.”

It was a simple tune, a lullaby really to get little three-year-old Stede to take an afternoon nap, but the lyrics have stuck with him ever since. It’s a staple song in 12 (he doesn’t know about other Districts), and it’s seemed to follow him his whole life.

The clouds silently drift by above them.

“Deep in the meadow, under the willow. A bed of grass, a soft green pillow,” he half sings in a soft whispered voice. “Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes. And when you awake, the sun will rise.

“Here it’s safe, here it’s warm, here the daisies guard you from every harm. Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true. Here is the place where I love you.”

He feels Ed press his lips to the top of Stede’s head, and squeezes him tight. “That’s fucking beautiful, babe.”

Stede wishes things were better with his mother, but those good memories seem to stop after he gained human sentience. Something seemed to switch, and she became a shell of her former self, or at least the self that Stede remembers from his early childhood. Sarah Bonnet was once someone full of life and love, someone who played with and held her son and sang to him as he fell asleep in her arms in the garden. Why didn’t his older self get to experience her? He squeezes his eyes shut to ward off the prickle of tears.

“Interviews tomorrow,” he says, wrapping his arm around Ed’s waist. “And then…”

He can feel the way Ed’s breath catches in his chest. “Let’s just… Can we just…pretend that’s not all happening? I just want to…be with you without that hanging over us. Is that…”

“Yeah.” Stede presses a kiss to Ed’s shoulder. “Yeah, absolutely.”

-

Ed learns that they left the painting from Izzy later and he feels a rush of vindication at that. He’d hoped that every other tribute would see it and feel something from it. More than anything, he’d hoped Stede saw it. That image of Anne’s face, the soul in her eyes slowly fading away… it’s something Ed will never forget for as long as he lives. It’s burned into his memory, and seeped into his dreams for the past year. The painting helped him, a little bit. It helped to see her face in the flesh and not in his subconscious. He’d expected them to clean up between tributes and that the image would have been long since washed away by the time Stede went in, but they didn’t. They left it. And that gives Ed some kind of satisfaction.

He looks up at himself in the mirror. Ivan is putting the final touches on his dress. It’s a wedding gown, with a massive full skirt and a feathered cloak circling around his chest, one that looks like the korowai his mother wore on her wedding day. Looking at himself, Ed thinks he looks absolutely beautiful, but this isn’t the kind of dress he always envisioned for himself. It’s too much, too austentatious, too Capitol. And there’s a reason for that. The president insisted on Ed being presented to the crowd in his wedding dress. Since he and Stede can’t have their public wedding, this is, in Chauncey Badminton’s words, the “next best thing”.

“Turn towards me,” Ivan instructs him. He sews up the last seam and deems the dress finished. “There. You look beautiful.”

They have plans for this dress, ones Ed is sort of privy to, but has no idea how they’ll look. Ivan’s been very vague about it, saying things like, “When the time comes, you’ll see.” 

“Thank you,” he says in a small voice. “Personally, I would’ve gone for a smaller dress.”

“Just between you and me,” Ivan leans in, “I’ve got your real wedding dress in my archives.” He gives Ed a wink. It’s reassuring at least to know there is another dress out there, one Ed would definitely like more and feel beautiful in on his wedding day. But that day will never come now, and all he has is this extreme facsimile of a dress he’d never actually want to wear. 

There’s a knock at the door and without waiting for an answer, Fang walks in, clad in a floor-length leather trench coat with black linen pants and no shirt, showing off his stomach and chest tattoos. “They want you out there in five min— oh my god, Edward,” he gasps, coming up to Ed and holding his hands. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you, Fangy.”

Fang’s voice fails, and tears spring to his eyes, “You would’ve made the most beautiful bride.” Ed doesn’t know what else to say, and Fang doesn’t seem to need any response, so he lets Fang hold him, take in the sight of him, for as long as he needs to.

When Fang finally lets go, his cheeks are stained with tears. Small streaks of his mascara follow the trail they leave. “Okay— shit— it’s time.”

Ed picks up his skirt and follows into the hallway. Zheng joins him, looking sleek in a teal suit with a sheer jacket and black bodysuit underneath it, her eyes highlighted with gold eyeshadow and liner. He knows how private she is, and how much she prefers fading into the background. It’s how she won her games, not drawing attention to herself. The more understated outfit makes perfect sense for her. Let Ed take up all the District 1 attention. 

She smiles at him. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks.”

“Stede’s a lucky boy. You know, I wore a dress like this at my wedding.”

“Really?”

“Yes, it was the biggest victor wedding of all time.” She gives him a sidelong look, mouth quirked up in a sardonic smile. “They had to make it extra extravagant.” She fiddles with the wedding band on her finger, a small diamond in the center, much more subtle than the one Lucius gave to Stede to propose with, the one still on his ring finger. He’ll have to take it off tomorrow, for the first time since Stede gave it to him. “You’re luckier than most, Edward, even if it doesn’t feel like that.” In a quieter voice, she says, “At least the world will know how he went.”

There’s something there, something that tells Ed she knows how her husband was really killed, but he doesn’t have time to ask about it before the intro to Lucius’ show starts. It’s showtime.

-

“Ladies and gentlemen, your master of ceremonies, Lucius Spriggs!”

Lucius is in full TV host mode, cheesy smiles and all, waving and playfully bowing to the audience.

“Thank you everyone, and welcome, Panem, to the 75th annual Hunger Games!”

The audience cheers so loud it nearly bursts Ed’s eardrums.

“And it’s not just any Hunger Games, as you all know. This is the third Quarter Quell, and in a moment, we will hear from all 24 of this year’s former victors competing. All of your favorites, and the best competitors we’ve ever seen.” He gets a bit choked up, his voice going softer. “And say goodbye to all but one of them.” 

The audience is quiet, but clearly very saddened by this.

“I know,” Lucius says, like a mother comforting her child. He wipes a nonexistent tear from his eye. His tone shifts abruptly back to TV host. “Let’s hear it!” The audience bursts into screams and Lucius grins. “Alright! Let’s get things started, shall we?”

The tributes are all paraded out, much like last year, walking down the runway of the stage and posing and smiling for the audience. Ed’s dress gets a massive commotion, although he’s been specifically instructed not to spin in it until Ivan gives him the signal in the audience. Sam expectedly gets massive cheers for just being there, as do William and Jim, although Jim doesn’t smile. 

Then he sees Stede, clad head to toe in red velvet and gold brocade. His suit jacket has a massive train that stretches maybe five feet behind him. He does a dramatic turn and flicks the jacket, sending sparks off of it like his parade look last year, which gets a big response from the crowd. 

He looks up at Ed, blowing a kiss to him for the cameras, but Ed melts at it just the same as he would on any normal night. Stede looks absolutely gorgeous, and Ed wishes the circumstances were different. He wishes this was their actual wedding.

“First up, you all know and remember her as the Queen of the 40th Hunger Games, but we know her as the lovely Miss Zheng Yi Sao!”

“A wedding dress?” Sam whispers to Ed incredulously as Zheng does her interview. “Bit heavy-handed, don’t you think?”

Ed grimaces, adjusting the way the layers of chiffon lay across his lap. “The president made me, I didn’t have a choice.”

Sam huffs a laugh under his breath. “Make him pay for it.”

Ed tunes back in to the interview. “—your daughters were there at the reaping?” 

“Yes, my two girls, 18-year-old Opal and 15-year-old Ruby.” She blows a kiss and waves to the camera. “And my auntie, of course.”

“I think we were all very heartbroken when you were forced to go without saying goodbye. I mean, those are your babies for god's sake!”

“Yes.” Zheng has a sort of bite to her voice that Ed hasn’t heard before. “The people in charge made it so none of us saw our children and families off. Makes things quicker. ”

“Well,” Lucius says, trying to get things back on track, “hopefully you’ll make it home to them.”

“One can only hope, Lucius, it’s a good group this year.”

“Zheng Yi Sao, everyone.” She heads back to her seat next to Ed with loud applause from the audience. Ed wants to know more about her, how the Capitol wronged her, what they did to her husband and why she was framed for it for so long. But they don’t have time to talk. 

Lucius gathers himself, “Now, please put your hands together for our reigning co-victor, our Blackbeard, Edward Teach!”

Sam claps a hand on his shoulder as Ed stands and gathers his skirts, making his way down to the front of the stage. From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Stede, watching him with rapt attention. Ed smiles softly, placing his hands over his heart, mouthing I love you, and the crowd’s cheers ratchet up in intensity.

Lucius shakes his hand, his TV mask dropping for just a moment to give Ed a sad smile. He guides Ed to his seat, giving him a moment to arrange his dress. The crowd silences as Lucius raises his microphone to his lips. 

“Edward, it’s lovely to see you again, though I wish it hadn’t been under these circumstances.”

Ed plasters on his “media smile”, the one he perfected throughout the Victory Tour, the one that says he’s happy to be here and grateful for everything the Capitol has given him. “The feeling’s mutual, Lucius. I don’t think this is anyone’s ideal situation.”

“Well, that’s certainly one of the more generous takes I’ve heard,” Lucius remarks, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “I’ve heard some rumblings that quite a few of your fellow tributes, as well as some people in the districts, and even here in the Capitol, find the twist of this Quell to be a bit…well, unfair.”

Ed cocks his head. “Unfair is one word for it.”

“Do you agree?”

Ed hesitates, considering. He and Stede are obviously major targets, both by their non-allies and by the Capitol. He doesn’t want to say anything that will alienate any potential sponsors, people who might be able to send them something life-saving in the arena. But Lucius gives him a small nod, almost encouraging. 

“Well, I think if you put yourself in my shoes for a moment,” Ed starts, choosing his words carefully, “you might think that way. You know, fresh off my own Games and Victory Tour, a blossoming relationship with my co-Victor, newly engaged, about to start my life with my fiance… The timing seems a little suspicious, wouldn’t you say? Especially given the controversy around the way Stede and I won last year.”

“Suspicious?” Lucius repeats, and Ed can tell he’s feigning ignorance. “How so?”

“I mean, if you look at some of my fellow Victors up there,” Ed says, inclining his head to the Victor seats, “doesn’t take a genius to see some commonalities. There’s more than a few of us up there who have…caused problems for the president, let’s say.”

“So you’re suggesting that this Quell is a way for the president to…clean house, as it were?” Lucius glances at the camera, hurriedly continuing, “Not my words, mind you.”

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Ed says, sitting back, shrugging. “Just observing.”

“An interesting thought.” Lucius crosses his legs, clearly punctuating that portion of the interview. “You know, I don’t think I’ve told you how absolutely gorgeous you look tonight,” he says, abruptly steering them back onto safer ground.

Ed smiles, nodding sheepishly, media persona back in place. “Thank you.”

“Am I correct in thinking that this is your wedding dress?”

“Yes. President Badminton thought everyone would want to see it.” 

“Well, President Badminton, as usual, was right.” Lucius turns to the crowd, gesturing to Ed. “Was he not, folks?” The crowd cheers on command and over the roar, Lucius calls, “Would you do us the honor?”

Ed nods and the cheers increase as he stands, straightening out the fabric, and approaches the front of the stage. The lights are bright, too bright to make out anything past the first few rows, and he finds Ivan easily, sitting with the other stylists. Ivan nods and Ed takes his cue.

He isn’t sure what he was expecting, but as he starts to twirl, it wasn’t for small pieces of his dress to detach, lifting into the air. The feathers of the korowai flit away, hanging in the air for a moment before slowly floating down, being carried by the breeze of the air conditioners to people sitting in the audience. As he spins, more and more pieces come off, revealing fluffy yellow ostrich feathers that stretch upward where the white dove feathers once were. 

The main skirt of the gown shrivels away, burning up in some sort of smokeless flame, and a new bodice is revealed. The top down to his waist is yellow, the same as the feathers, and the skirt is a fluffy grassy green, splaying out around him like a mermaid tail. It takes him a moment to realize what it reminds him of, but when he hears the noise the crowd is making, cheers and hollers so loud he’s surprised he can still hear, he knows exactly what it is.

“Oh my god! It’s—it’s beautiful, it’s like some sort of plant, it’s—like, um, oh god what is it?” 

“A dandelion,” Ed says, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd. He lifts his arms, the pieces of his dress spinning around him, lifting up, a cloud of dandelion seeds drifting out over the crowd as they gasp and murmur.

When he stops, his dress has transformed completely, what once was a white dandelion puff with seeds sprouting, has become the yellow weed that he and Stede used to communicate in the arena. A stalk sprouting out of the grass, as the fluffy tulle bottom of the skirt suggests. People are still plucking the white feathers out of the air, holding out their hands like children catching snowflakes on their tongues. He shoots a look back at Stede who looks like he’s trying to hold back tears, mesmerized by what he’s witnessed.

“Incredible,” Lucius says, a bit breathless. Ed looks behind him, stepping back to join him again by the chairs. “Your stylist has certainly outdone himself this time. Ivan, take a bow.” A spotlight searches Ivan out and Ivan lifts his hand, giving the cameras a nod. 

“Well, Edward, I’m afraid we’re nearing the end of our time together,” Lucius says, reeling the crowd back in, even as the cheers continue. “I think I speak for all of us when I wish you all the best.” 

“Thank you, Lucius.” 

Ed reaches out for a handshake, but instead Lucius pulls him in for a hug, catching Ed by surprise. His voice is quiet, microphone pulled away from his mouth, when he whispers, “Things are going to be fine. I promise, you’ll get out of there.”

He’s pulling away a moment later, before Ed can even register what he said. “District 1’s Edward Teach, everyone!” Lucius calls, and Ed turns to give the crowd one last wave before heading back to his seat. 

Sam is still clapping and whistling at him as he sits back down, god it’s embarrassing how he used to fantasize about exactly this. 

“That was fucking incredible,” he says, knocking his shoulder into Ed’s. He’s holding one of the dove feathers-turned-dandelion seed. “Got a souvenir from it, too.”

Ed’s still just as blown away as everyone else. “I had no idea it would do that. Ivan just told me to spin when he said.”

“Well, the man’s a fucking genius. Oop, here we go.”

“—please welcome, the man who we’ve all come to know as our Daddy!” Lucius pauses while people in the audience scream and whistle in agreement. “From District 2, give it up for Sam Bellamy!” 

Sam’s an absolute professional in front of the cameras, working all his angles, and giving the crowd exactly what they want. Women and men alike in the audience scream ‘I love you!’ and ‘Yes, Daddy!’ at him, and Ed knows Sam’s been dealing with this stuff for the better part of five or six years at this point, ever since he started going gray. But this feels viscerally uncomfortable, and he can only imagine what Sam feels on the inside, especially given how he reacted to Charlotte calling him that.

The interview goes about as Ed expected it would, talking about his niece, what he thinks of the competition, and finally, if there’s any “special someone” waiting for him.

“I don’t know about everyone else, but I happen to know you’re, by all appearances, single,” Lucius says with a sly smile.

“Oh, you’re stalking me, Lucius?” That gets a big laugh from the audience.

“No! Of course not, who do you take me for?” Lucius fans himself with his cards. “I just wanted to see if there’s any secret someone that we don’t know about…”

Sam pauses. Ed can see Rachel on one of the lower rows, watching intently and clutching at her dress.

“There is. It’s not official, but she’s…she’s definitely someone special.” 

“Wow. To have caught your eye, she must be.” Lucius pauses for a moment, letting the atmosphere grow more serious. “Do you have anything you want to say to her?”

Sam looks down, then leans forward, looking directly into the camera. “My love, you have my heart for all eternity. If I die in there, I want you to know that my final thoughts will be that of your lips against mine.”

People in the audience swoon and aww, but as Ed watches Rachel swipes under her eyes. He clearly hadn’t seen the full extent of their relationship in the short interactions he’s had with Sam and Rachel if she’s reacting like this, but he understands completely. 

-

Gabriel and Antoinette apparently insisted that they do their interviews together, the two of them talking over each other in their (bad) fake Capitol accents, and crying to Lucius about not wanting to go.

“Me and Gabriel just cannot fathom a life without the other!”

“We did not want to go by choice!”

Stede rolls his eyes, and whispers to Jim, “God, does anybody believe this crap?”

“Apparently everyone,” Jim whispers back and gestures to the crowd. Stede can spot Jackie and Fang crying, passing tissues between each other and the other crying Capitol escorts around them. “They’ll say anything to get out of the Games, and god knows how gullible the Capitol is.”

“That does seem to be a theme tonight.”

Jim turns to look at him with a severe frown. “We’re fucking angry, Stede. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but everyone is pissed. Even the fucking Capitol citizens aren’t happy.” Stede looks back over at the crowd. He can’t see anyone, really, beyond the escorts, with the bright lights shining on stage, but he has noticed a certain… energy coming from them tonight. One that doesn’t feel too far off from some of the crowds on the Victory Tour. “They love us. They love you. If you think we aren’t going to try to capitalize on that to get these Games stopped, you’re not as smart as I thought.”

He does understand. He understands completely. He’s angry too. He’s furious. But it’s all just—strange. Stede’s so used to the Capitol being all over the Games that their energy tonight… well he just can’t believe it. “Believe me, I get it. But we won’t be able to do anything. President wants his pound of flesh. I mean there’s fucking 80-year-olds out here.”

“You’ll never know if you never try.”

The interviews go on and so do the attempts to stop this entire farce. Nearly every tribute mentions missing their families and partners and children. One talks about the years of cancer treatment they went through, finally getting a clean bill of health only to be reaped two months later. Another barely keeps it together as he talks about his newborn daughter, how he had dreamed about having a child and won’t be there now to watch her grow up. The crowd gets more and more sad and angry with each interview.

When Rachel is up for hers, she doesn’t play it angry or sad, but more cryptic.

“Now I know they absolutely love you in the Districts—”

Rachel waves her hand dismissively. “Oh please, you flatter me.”

“It’s true! I don’t know how your fans will feel if you don’t make it out.”

She quirks her mouth into a sly smile. “Since the Quarter Quell were written into law by men, it can certainly be unwritten. ”

They share an imperceptible look and Lucius hums noncommittally. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Finally, it’s Jim’s turn to go up and all pretense of their reluctant participation drops. They sit slumped in their chair, arms crossed, scowling at Lucius and the crowd.

“We’ve seen a lot of emotions tonight,” Lucius starts, “but I don’t see sadness in Jim’s eyes. You’re angry, aren’t you?”

They laugh in disbelief. “Am I angry? I’m furious.”

“I can understand tha—”

Jim interrupts him, suddenly sitting up. “The whole point of me winning the Hunger Games was that I’d get to live the rest of my life in peace, but now you want to kill me again. And you know what?” They stand up, raising their voice to yell, “Fuck that! And fuck everyone that ever had anything to do with this!” 

The audience gasps and murmurs amongst themselves in shock at the outburst. They’re definitely getting bleeped on the live broadcast. It takes several minutes to calm the crowd  down as Jim continues to shout at them, the mic feeds cutting out. Finally, they’re instructed to sit back down at their original seat, and do so gladly, folding their arms in a huff and the crowd settles back down.

“Wow,” Stede remarks.

“I told you,” Jim says. They cross their legs, their propped up foot jiggling with their pent-up rage. “We’ll do anything to get this stopped.”

Anything. Stede’s mind spins as he starts to consider his options, the possibilities. Oh, he’s got something, all right.

“Well then, let’s keep going shall we?” Lucius adjusts in his seat. “Next, we have someone who I know a lot of people have been waiting to hear from. Our other reigning co-Victor, please welcome Stede Bonnet!”

Stede smiles wide for the cameras, making himself look as ready and confident as possible, flicking the end of his coat a few times for good measure, making sure to show off John’s beautiful handiwork. It gets big cheers from the crowd and he sits down.

“Hello, Lucius, long time no see.”

“I know. You’re fresh off the Victory Tour with Edward, and end up back here. Tough luck.”

“Yes,” Stede sighs, “tough luck indeed.”

“Now this should be a very interesting Games for you. Not only are you once again competing alongside your fiancé and all these former Victors, but you’re competing against your own father. Who, as we learned last year, wasn’t exactly the best person to you in childhood.”

Stede understands what Lucius is doing. He wants to stir drama and chaos in the last few minutes. He knows Lucius doesn’t have any malice behind it, that it’s simply his job to do this, to find the narrative amongst the competitors, but Stede’s not interested in discussing his father in any sense.

“Well, yes, I mean, it’s sure to be tough competition all around. I’ve had the pleasure of talking to the vast majority of the people behind me this past week, and they’re all extremely fierce competitors. Familial relations I think stop once you’re in there.” 

“I see,” Lucius shuffles some hidden cards in his hand, and changes the subject fast, seeing that he’ll get nothing from talking about his father. “We all remember your surprise proposal during the Victory Tour in District 8.”

The audience cheers as footage of his proposal replays on the screen. Stede looks back at Ed and smiles. Ed blows a kiss back to Stede. “That was one of the happiest moments of my life.”

“I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt, hearing what this Quarter Quell would entail.” Lucius pauses, lets the crowd feel the shift in mood as he sighs. His somber tone is almost genuine when he continues, “I mean, Stede, the wedding. The marriage. Do you regret proposing now?”

“No. I love Edward and if we’re not to have a wedding, then so be it.” He chuckles, almost lightly. “I mean, I can’t control what they wrote for each Quarter Quell any more than you. Apparently my fate was decided 75 years ago, or so the president says. But…” Jim’s voice pops back into his head, they’ll say anything to get out of the Games. Anything. Stede sighs, dropping his head. “I—I wouldn’t have any regrets, if not…”

“If not what?” Lucius asks, genuinely confused by Stede’s sudden change in tone and body language.

Stede looks up, wringing his hands with feigned nerves. “If it weren’t for the baby.”

There’s a moment of silence as the words hit their marks, and then pandemonium. The audience shrieks and gasps in horror many of them jumping to their feet, the culmination of every single plea to stop the Games, crescendoing here. Rage at the mere idea that the Capitol would force a pregnant person into the arena. He can hear people in the audience screaming out their dissent, ‘What about the baby?!’ and ‘Stop the Games!’ and ‘He’s pregnant, you can’t do this!’ 

Yet again proving their hypocrisy, that an unborn fetus dying in the arena is unacceptable, but sending a 12-year-old child to be slaughtered is fine.

Stede looks out, finding Izzy in the audience, who smiles and nods in approval, toasting a glass to him. Lucius leans into him, whispering away from the mic, “You fucking genius,” before getting up to try and gain back some control.

There’s no calming them though, so Stede gets up and heads back to the other Victors. He doesn’t even pretend to go back to his seat, heading straight for Ed, who looks more shocked than anyone else in the room. Stede hugs him, squeezing him tight, and stands next to him, holding his hand. 

The chaos continues in the audience. Despite Lucius’ efforts, he’s completely lost control of them. Their demands to stop the Games are endless, only gaining fervor. Stede can’t help but smirk at the realization that the interviews won’t be able to continue, which means his father won’t even get his turn. There’s no way his father will be able to speak about the revelation of his newly “pregnant” son, and the grandchild he will never meet, no way for him to sneer about and judge it. 

He reaches down to hold Zheng’s hand in his right. She takes it, her palm warm and fingers strong around his. Ed does the same with Sam, and in succession, every tribute follows suit, save a few. Ned Low shouts something at Rachel, who rolls her eyes and steps in front of him to continue the chain. Stede’s father, of course, refuses to take Jim’s hand, stomping off stage, probably to go make some Capitol attendant’s life hell. The remaining Victors raise their joined hands aloft in defiance and solidarity with each other. Stede only just manages to catch Lucius’ approving look before his media mask is back in place and he gestures for the unseen crew to cut it with a sharp slash of his hand in front of his throat. 

Moments later the entire room goes dark. The broadcast has been shut down.

-

It’s chaos backstage as everyone tries to figure out where they’re supposed to be going, tributes and escorts and stylists and mentors converging on the space en masse, but somehow Ed manages to keep a firm grasp on Stede’s hand, pulling him through the mass of people, through a door that’s probably supposed to be locked, into a semi-quiet hallway before finally stopping.

He pushes Stede up against a wall, crashing their lips together. Stede melts into it, throwing his arms around Ed’s neck. They kiss for a long moment, Stede’s adrenaline high from the interview, from the reaction he’d gotten, from the way Ed has been looking at him all night and the way he’s pressed up against him, closer than they’ve been in what feels like a lifetime. Ed pulls away from the kiss, their mouths a mere breath away, speaking in a low whisper. “ Fuck, that was hot, babe.”

Stede giggles breathlessly, working a hand up into Ed’s soft curls. “It’s the first thing that popped in my head.”

“You know, for a second I thought you were serious.”

“Please, you’d remember getting me pregnant more than anything.” Stede quirks his eyebrows.

Ed laughs and kisses him again. “You’re a menace, fucking insane bastard.”

“So are you. That dress, my god. You’re so beautiful.” Stede is still reeling from the transformation. How Ivan managed it, he has no idea, but it was a work of genius.

“I had no idea he had this planned.”

Stede holds up a small white feather between them and kisses Ed on his cheek and then his lips before tucking it behind his own ear. “Well, he did a fantastic job.” 

The signature stomp of Jackie’s heels interrupts them. “I found them!” she yells over her shoulder, and grabs both of their arms, pulling them back out. “We have to go, it’s a fucking madhouse out there.” 

She pulls them through the crowd to meet their entourage. Fang parts the crowd in front of them, Zheng in tow. She’s already taken off her sheer suit jacket and Stede honestly can’t help but side-eye her strong, toned arms. She’s clearly kept herself in fighting condition. 

Izzy takes over for Jackie, grabbing Ed and Stede by the arms and pushing them to follow Fang. “What the fuck were you two doing?” he snaps. “Wandering off like that. Fucking idiots.”

Ed opens his mouth to say something, but Jackie cuts him off. “They were sucking face in the hallway and Jackie caught them.” She announces it with so much volume that heads all around them turn in their direction, but they’re being escorted through the crowd so quickly that Stede can’t see who hears it.

They finally reach the elevators and when they make their first stop at District 1’s apartment, everyone breathes a sigh of relief. They file into the space, gathering around the dining area where some snacks have been laid out. 

Zheng plops herself down in one of the chairs immediately, dragging over a bowl of grapes. “Well, that was fun,” she comments dryly. She gives Stede a curious once-over. “Hope that ‘morning sickness’ doesn’t fuck you over in the arena.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Stede says, giving his stomach a few sarcastic pats. “I mean, unless…”

Almost as one, they all turn to Izzy. He takes in their hopeful expressions before his gaze lands on Stede and he sighs. “I have to admit,” Izzy starts, “the baby bomb was a stroke of genius. Unfortunately, they’re still going to go through with it.”

“Fuck,” Ed hisses.

Stede feels himself deflate. “Seriously?”

Zheng laughs. “What, you thought they were going to let you fuck them over two years in a row?”

Stede slumps into the nearest chair with a sigh. “No, but… I mean, I knew they weren’t going to stop it, but part of me was still hoping…”

Jackie rubs his shoulder. “Come on, I gotta get you back.”

Before she drags him off, Stede crashes into Ed, wrapping him in a massive hug and kiss. “I love you, if I can’t talk to you tomorrow, find me in there.”

“I will, I promise.” Ed kisses him again and lets go. 

It’s quiet the entire way up to the District 12 apartment. Stede can hear Jackie sniffling and wiping at her eyes. The doors open to the dark apartment, populated only (it seems) by the Avoxes who have been assisting with food and beverages and turndown service the entire time. His father is most likely in bed, and Stede isn’t complaining. He would rather not see him right now.

Jackie pauses at the hallway entrance. “Here. Got something for you. Tributes can bring an approved token in, usually something from home, but…” She pulls a small jewelry box from her pocket and hands it to Stede. “Your token, for the arena.” 

Stede cracks it open. Inside is a locket, a dandelion etched into the silver circle. It hangs from a fine silver chain. He cracks it open, finding a picture of Ed on one side, and Jackie and John on the other. Stede feels tears gather in his eyes and he looks up at Jackie. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Here. Turn around. Let Jackie help you.” Stede does as she requests. She loops the chain around his neck and Stede feels the locket land heavy on his chest. He presses his fingers to it. “There. All set.”

He turns to Jackie and gathers her in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you so much for everything.”

She hugs him back and kisses the top of his head, running her thumbs across his shoulders, “I’ll never forget you.” Her voice fails and she chokes out a sob. “You both deserve so much better.”

If Stede had his way, he’d stay right here in Jackie’s arms forever. She’d hold and comfort him and tell him that everything would be okay. But he has to go to bed. He has to get as much sleep as possible, because it doesn’t matter what he wants. 

There’s only one option for Stede and Edward right now, an arena some unknowable distance away that seeks to kill them at every turn. Stede gathers himself and heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He doesn’t know if he’ll sleep tonight.

Chapter Text

A replay of last night’s chaos plays on the wall of the presidential office of Chauncey Badminton. He scowls at it, pouring himself another brandy on the rocks.

“Oh look, they’re holding hands,” he says with fake sweetness. He takes a sip. “I want them dead.”

David Jenkins chuckles. “They will be soon, don’t you worry about that. Half of them aren’t cut out for my arena.”

Chauncey takes another sip, scowling at the holoscreen, at the Victors-turned-tributes frozen in place. At two Victors in particular. “Do you know why we don’t just round up 24 people from the districts and just slaughter them outright? Would be a hell of a lot easier, don’t you think? Wouldn’t have to waste money on these arenas, and do this whole dog and pony show.” 

It’s a rhetorical question, David knows, but he also knows the president enough to play along. “No, sir.”

“We try to give them hope. Hope that their sad, pathetic lives will be marginally better if they win this little game.” The camera focuses on last year’s Victors. Traitorous as they are, they’ve become symbols of revolution. “But if these two children can defy us with one simple act, then we’re done for. Too much hope is dangerous, and they’ve provided that.”

David’s watch beeps. The tributes should be getting on the hovercraft now. It’s nearly time to start the Games. He gets up and brushes off his suit. “Well, only time will tell how this Games goes, but rest assured, I won’t fail you. Last year was an error on your brother’s part.”

Badminton turns narrowed eyes to David. “I’ll see to it that you won’t fail.”

“Of course, sir. Happy Hunger Games.”

“To you as well.”

-

They’re woken up early in the morning to prepare. They’re allotted an hour and a half to take one last shower and to get ready. Ed hugs Fang and Izzy one last time, Fang nearly inconsolable with tears.

Izzy’s mouth is set in a grim line. “You keep Stede alive in there, okay?” Ed says to him, squeezing Izzy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. He’s the only thing that matters. Promise?”

Izzy nods sharply. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”

Ed nods, taking some relief that there’s at least one person on the outside looking out for Stede. 

He’s escorted with Zheng to the roof by an attendant and a peacekeeper. Their trackers are inserted, injected into the same arm as last time, just above the scar Ed has from last year’s tracker, and when everyone’s settled, the hovercraft takes off. In a cruel twist of irony he’s been placed directly across from Stede, just far away enough that they can’t touch each other, not even with the tips of their toes. They end up just looking at each other the whole time, seeing if they can communicate without saying a single word. Ed knows he’s going to the Cornucopia. Zheng promised she’d be his backup and he hopes Stede understands that from his pointed looks. It seems that he does, from the way he nods knowingly. Of course he does, Stede knows Ed better than anyone in the entire universe. 

The flight ends up being longer than last time. There aren’t any clocks or windows, but nearly everyone falls asleep at some point and wakes up hours later, still in the air. Wherever they’re going must be far, far away. Finally, they land, and are immediately led through the underground hanger to their given rooms to prepare. 

Ivan is there waiting for him. Ed runs up and hugs him, squeezing him tight. “That dress was absolutely beautiful. You outdid yourself.”

“I had a beautiful model, it had to look good.” He smiles and squeezes Ed’s shoulder. He hands Ed a thermal jumpsuit, grey and black, with a honeycomb pattern all around it. “It’s moisture-wicking. Most likely a tropical or desert arena.”

“Places that will make my hair frizzy as fuck,” Ed complains while he slips on the kit. His hair is tied up in a bun, and Ivan very generously trims Ed’s beard down to a low crop, nearly down to  just stubble. Lastly, he pulls out a pair of earrings, small silver studs that resemble puffy dandelion blooms, and puts them in.

“So you don’t forget who the real enemy is.”

“Thirty seconds remaining. Please enter the tube,” a woman’s voice says over the intercom.

Ivan gives him one last hug. “Give ‘em hell out there.”

“I will, thank you so much.”

They don’t say goodbye. Ed steps into the tube and it seals, but doesn’t immediately start rising. Ed looks back. There isn’t much time left. The tube should be lifting him out by now, giving him those precious few moments to survey the arena before the Games officially start.  

The door slides open and three peacekeepers enter the room. Ivan barely has time to turn around before they’re on him, throwing him back against the tube. His head hits it with a sickening smack. “No, Ivan!” Ed screams as the peacekeepers smash his head against the glass over and over, blood spattering. Ed pounds against the glass, kicks, whatever he can to try and break through, but it’s too strong. Ivan slumps to the ground and the peacekeepers grab him, dragging him back, and the tube finally begins to rise. Ed drops to his knees, crying out his screams. “Stop it! No!” 

They drag him off as Ed continues to scream, but the tube won’t stop its ascent for anything, not even his stylist's horrible beating. His last glimpse of Ivan, of the man who crafted Ed’s image, the man who created Blackbeard, is his feet catching on the doorframe before he’s swallowed into darkness, the tube lifting him past the ceiling of the room. His breaths come to him in short gasps and he forces himself to his feet. He’s not allowed a moment’s rest, the tube continuing its slow ascent, and the brightness of the sun momentarily blinds him as he emerges into the arena. 

“Let the 75th Hunger Games begin, and may the odds be ever in your favor.” Frenchie’s voice booms around the arena as the 30 second countdown begins.

He forces himself to concentrate, to focus. Slows his breathing. They did that on purpose, the fucking monsters. Held him back, forced him to watch as they beat his stylist, his friend, bloody. Trying to unnerve him, shock him, keep him from being alert and ready and prepared. And fuck, he hopes they didn’t do that to Stede.

But he’s not going to give them the satisfaction of fucking him over. There’ll be time later, he hopes, to mourn Ivan, but right now, Ed intends to do exactly as Ivan instructed. Give ‘em hell.

The arena is, indeed, tropical, with a lush jungle encircling a massive saltwater lake, its mist getting into his eyes and burning them slightly. Strangely, the Cornucopia resembles more of a crashed ship, upended onto its side, hollow and filled with weapons and packs, with rock walls jutting out of the water for the tributes to climb onto and access. The walls separate the lake into wedges. Ed can’t see how many, but there appear to be two tributes per ledge, each perched on their own pedestals surrounded by water. The only way out is going to be to swim, and he thanks whatever gods might be out there listening that he grew up somewhere with water, because he knows some of these tributes definitely don’t know how to swim. 

He’s been put next to one of the tributes from 7. Ed ignores them as the countdown continues, searching desperately for Stede, but he can’t see him. They must have put him on the other side of the Cornucopia, fucking bastards. 

Beyond the Cornucopia, in the near distance, he catches sight of a ruined white lighthouse standing tall above the treetops, with ivy and vines creeping up the sides of it, and the seal of Panem near the top. It strikes him as odd. It’s not necessarily uncommon for buildings to be features of an arena—the arena five years ago was in a dilapidated city—but he’s never seen anything like this. An arena with some sort of strange nautical theme. 

He can’t find Stede, but he knows Stede is here, somewhere. Ed goes into fight mode, his eyes tunneling on the Cornucopia like a tiger stalking its prey. 

Ten seconds.

Get in, get out, find Stede, book it to the jungle, then… then they’ll figure the rest out.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Ed dives into the water as the gong sounds out. The waves try and work against him, buffeting his body and trying to stop him from moving forward, but he persists. He drives himself forward and makes it onto one of the rock walls. They’re slick with water from the waves and he’s careful not to run too fast, and it seems that was a smart move. Across from him, on another wall, he sees another tribute running full tilt down the path. It’s the braggadocious tribute from 9, Max, who spent his entire interview going on about how the competition meant nothing and how he’d simply skate by and win easily. As Ed watches, he slips on the rocks and bashes his head in. His body slips off the side and into the water, which begins to turn crimson.

Ed makes it to the Cornucopia in one piece, grabbing a large backpack and a sword. There’s a swoosh of air and someone next to him. He brandishes the sword, ready to gut whoever it is, and finds Sam at the other end of it. 

Sam smirks. “Good thing we’re allies.” He lifts up his arm, a solid silver bangle slipping down his wrist with a single etching of a dandelion carved into it.

“W-what?” Ed lifts his eyes from the bracelet to Sam’s face, utterly confused. Where the fuck did he get that, and why?  

Sam looks past Ed and points his crossbow over his shoulder. Ed whirls around to see the offending person slump to the ground, having their neck snapped by Zheng, her hair put up in two ponytails tied with silver bands. “Don’t trust 3 and 10,” she says. She sheaths a sword and grabs a machete. “Where’s Stede?” 

Shit, they gotta get out of there, but first they have to find Stede. He’s more important than Ed’s unanswered questions.

A glance to the right reveals Stede’s father and Ned Low approaching, but they retreat when Zheng hurls a spear in their direction, narrowly missing Low. 

“Find Stede!” Ed shouts and the two of them split off to search. Ed grabs a bow and quiver from the Cornucopia before running out. He may not exactly be a sharpshooter, but he knows how to use it, and an extra distance weapon is always smart to have on hand. 

Ed follows the path around the shipwreck, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of Stede. There are a few stragglers still on their pedestals, trying to figure out how to get off without being able to swim, but he pays them no mind. Further ahead of him, he hears Sam shout, “I found him!” and Ed breaks into a jog, still mindful of the slippery rock beneath his feet. 

As he passes the rear of the ship, he sees Sam aiming his crossbow at two people in the water, engaged in a tussle. Stede’s golden hair shimmers with the water speckling it even as the other tribute tries to smash him against the rocks. “Stede!” Ed screams. He moves to jump in after him, but Zheng’s firm hand pulls him back. “Stede!”

“I can’t get a shot,” Sam mutters. The tip of the arrow follows the other tribute, but even Ed can tell it’s too risky to take the shot. 

Stede manages to get a solid hit to the tribute’s cheek, giving him room to try and pull himself up out of the water, but the other tribute is on him seconds later, pulling him back in. They both go under, the water churning as the struggle continues beneath the surface. For too long, Ed, Sam, and Zheng can only wait. Ed’s heart pounds and everything inside him screams to follow, to go under and save Stede, but he can’t.

The water stills, and they wait, and Ed knows that Stede isn’t dead. He knows. He would be able to feel if he were gone, if he wasn’t here anymore. But the seconds pass and terror grips him.

Finally, Stede bursts through the surface with a gasp, looking around frantically. The body of the other tribute floats up next to him, face down, and he pushes it away with a cry. 

“Stede!” Ed surges forward and Zheng lets go. He races down the path, slipperiness be damned, to where Stede is pulling out of the water and he grabs for him, helping him up. “Stede, fuck, are you—” He runs his hands over Stede’s chest, searching for any wounds, any broken bones.

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” Stede says through coughs. “I’m okay, Ed.”

“I thought you were dead.” He cups Stede’s face in his hands.

“I’m okay,” Stede reassures him again. “Can’t say the same for them.” He jerks his elbow toward the body.

Ed lets out a startled laugh. “You fucking lunatic,” he breathes, and then surges in for a kiss.

“Hate to break this up, boys,” Zheng calls from the other path, “but we should get a fucking move on here.”

Ed kisses Stede again before getting up and helping Stede to his feet. They gingerly make their way to shore, the Cornucopia being taken over by another group, and book it through the jungle. The difference in age between the two pairs of them is made apparent very soon, since Sam and Zheng need to stop to catch their breath once they’re a good ways into the canopy. 

“God, it’s hot,” Stede pants, his face and hair dripping with sweat. Everyone else looks about the same. They’ve been out of the water enough that the heat should have dried them off somewhat, and while the specially-made suits are doing their moister-wicking job, none of them look like they’ve dried off at all because of the sweat. 

Zheng hands him an extra pack and the machete. “We’re gonna need to get going soon.”

The first cannon fires, making them jump, but they all sit and stay to count.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5…

The fifth cannon echoes through the air for a moment, no follow-up. As if by wordless agreement, they all get up and head deeper into the jungle.

Sam laughs as they go. “Looks like we’re not holding hands anymore, huh?”

Zheng rolls her eyes, and Ed scowls. “You think this is funny?”

He points above them. “Every cannon shot is music to my ears, and it should be for you too.”

“Okay,” Stede sighs, pulling out the machete, “if you’re going to be that way.”

He just laughs. “If you don’t want to trust me, that’s on you, be my guest. But when you come face to face with your psycho father and his little fuckface torturer boyfriend with no one to back you up, you’ll wish I was there.”

“Boys,” Zheng says in a stern voice, “emotions are high, we are a team, let’s just focus on putting some distance between us and them.”

“She’s right,” Ed chimes in, as much as Sam’s callous attitude pisses him off. “Let’s all just get our bearings and find water.” He takes the machete from Stede and takes it upon himself to start chopping a path through the thick canopy.

“Fucking hell,” Zheng mutters as she lets Ed pass. “Men are so fucking emotional.”

-

It has to be 90 degrees Fahrenheit with 100% humidity out here. It’s absolutely miserable. Stede pushes his sopping bangs off his face, slicking them back. This is usually how hot it gets in the dead of summer back home, and even then, Stede usually has a lake or an air conditioned house or a cold drink or something to make it bearable. He doesn’t want to know what this is doing to his hair. Hopefully the audience understands and doesn’t say anything.

It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed too. The treetops nearly completely cover the sky and block out the sun, although it feels like it’s been hours. There’s absolutely no sign of a freshwater source that Stede can see. With it being a rainforest, everything is covered in signs of water, but no river or waterfall or anything substantial that could be beneficial. And oddly enough, though the leaves are wet and everything’s damp, it isn’t actually raining. They may have to try and collect water from the dew hanging on the plants if they don’t find anything soon. He’s reminded of the last arena, him and Mary running for hours with no water.

And to make things even better, there’s no sign of any animals Stede can trap. He’s not surprised. Given the environment and ecosystem they’re in, they’d be more likely to find a leopard than squirrels or rabbits. He makes a mental note to keep an eye out for predator animals. Maybe they’ll luck out and find some meaty snakes. Stede knows a hunter back home who sells snake meat in the Hob when deer and other animals are scarce. It’s not too bad, needs to be well-tenderized though.

Ed’s on point, Zheng behind him, then Sam, with Stede bringing up the rear. Ed continues hacking away at the vines and leaves, taking them further and further into the jungle. The focus right now isn’t really taking any sort of defined path, but just putting distance between themselves and the other tributes. They’re all watching for any signs of danger, any potential oncoming attack. 

Stede’s so focused listening for animals and other tributes that he nearly misses it: the strange shimmer in the air. Just like the force field separating the gamemakers from the tributes in the training center, just like Oluwande showed him. Directly where Ed is about to hack at the thick foliage.

He rushes forward on instinct, reaching out as he yells, “EDWARD, NO!”

Ed’s arm comes down, the machete making full contact with the force field. There’s a great flash of light and electric sparks and Ed is sent flying back a good five feet, landing flat on his back. Stede runs to his side to check him, dropping his head to his chest. It’s still, silent, and Stede’s own heart nearly stops. “He’s not breathing, he’s not breathing! Ed!” Stede sits up, pushing Ed’s hair from his face, cupping his cheek. “Ed, please come back!”

“Move!” Sam pushes him aside.

“Don’t—” Stede grabs for the forgotten machete, moving by instinct to protect Ed, until Zheng grabs his arm and makes him pause for a moment to recognize that Sam is doing chest compressions. He ducks down every so often to breathe into Ed’s mouth, then going right back to the compressions.

Stede is in hysterics. The tears just come, he can barely breathe himself. Zheng holds him, partially to comfort him, but more likely than anything to keep him from interfering with Sam’s CPR.

As the seconds stretch out with no sign of response from Ed, Stede feels himself slipping sideways, leaning more heavily on Zheng. “Please, Ed, you can’t leave me.” He’s barely aware of Zheng’s arms, strong around him, squeezing tightly. “Ed, please, come back to me.”

Sam continues his compressions, grunting with the effort. “Come on, Ed, wake up!”

One last breath, and Ed is gasping awake, coughing. Stede sobs in relief and rushes to his side, dropping to his knees, clutching his hand and kissing the top of his head. “Ed, darling.” A fresh round of tears spill from his eyes, relief washing over him.

“Stede,” Ed says in a ragged voice, looking up at him in a daze. “Stede, Sam Bellamy kissed me.”

The tension breaks, relieved laughs peeling out from everyone. Stede kisses him properly before helping him sit up, holding Ed to his chest. “He saved your life. You were dead, you were dead, your heart stopped.”

Ed winks, though his smile is weak. “Gonna take a lot more than a stupid force field to kill me.”

They lay there a while, holding each other on the forest floor. Stede listens to his heartbeat, just to know that Ed is still here and still alive. There’s still a chance of him making it out of here. That’s all Stede needs.

“We need to keep going,” Zheng says above them. “If we’re at the edge, we can’t stay here backed into a corner.” She’s right, Stede knows that, especially with his father and Ned out there hunting them. They’re sitting ducks right now.

He helps Ed up, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him stable and upright, and takes the lead of the group. They walk parallel to the force field, tossing rocks and twigs at it to follow its path down. They walk for what has to be half a mile, still with no sign of water or trappable animals, and Stede stops, an idea forming. He cranes his neck up, searching out the tallest tree in their area.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks.

“Getting a lay of the land. Hand me the bow.” Ed hesitantly hands Stede it and the quiver over, and he starts climbing. 

The tree is thick, with large sturdy branches, perfect for climbing. Stede wishes no one knew about their strategy of sleeping in trees, because these would be perfect for hiding out in. At the top, he peaks out of the leaf canopy. It’s gotten cloudy over the course of the day, but the sun seems to be at its highest point in the sky. 

The strange lighthouse is easy to spot, and perfect for orienting him to where they are in the arena. They had been heading steadily in the opposite direction before hitting the force field, not wanting to converge on a place so obviously meant to draw them in. From up here, Stede can just make out that the lighthouse is still somewhat functional, the giant bulb turning, but no light is coming from it. It’s as if the structure is still running, doing its daily job, but the one fundamentally important thing it needs to work is broken. 

Suddenly, almost as if it were waiting for someone to notice it, it fixes itself, the light flashing over the arena and a foghorn blaring 12 times. It’s loud, loud enough that Stede has to cover his ears, especially without the cover of the treetops to buffer it. As soon as the last foghorn rings out, the light turns out, still turning in the lighthouse. 

And seconds later there’s another flash of light as a bolt of lightning strikes the tip of the lighthouse, then another, and another, thunder rolling out across the arena. Stede frowns as the lightning continues, clearly a feature of the arena rather than something natural. It seems to be relegated to just that one area, however, so Stede turns his attention to the rest of the arena. 

He takes the bow, setting up one of the arrows and aiming it at the sky. He looses it, and it soars up before striking the hologram. A honeycomb pattern ripples out from the place the arrow struck, spreading out into a dome, the Cornucopia sitting in the center. He’s not a math expert, but can tell distances fairly well. The arena looks to be around 3 or 4 miles in diameter, on the smaller side, but still with plenty of room for his father and Ned and anyone else that might want his and Ed’s heads to go on a wild goose chase.

Stede heads back down and hands the weapon back to Ed. “No sign of water, and we’re at the edge of the arena. It’s a dome, force field the entire way around.”

“Fuck,” Ed hisses under his breath.

“What was that foghorn?” Sam asks. 

“No idea. Far as I can tell, it acts like a clock. Sun’s at the top of the sky so it must be around noon. Twelve blares.”

“Weird.”

Ed flops back onto the ground. “We might as well dig into the packs, make camp here, take a quick rest. I know I’m pretty tired at least from, you know, dying earlier.”

Stede’s breath catches, his hand squeezing Ed’s arm. He doesn’t even want to think about that. It had been too close. Way too close. Ed looks at him, his expression softening as he slips his arm around Stede’s waist, pulling him closer, reassuring him that he’s okay, that he’s right there. 

“Adorable,” Zheng says flatly. She drops her pack to the ground, then herself. “But yeah, might as well. They’re fucking with our systems anyway, with that flight. It should be around 7 or 8 pm our time.” 

Knowing how the Capitol likes to put their arenas in places they want to vacation, it’s not surprising at all that there’s some sort of time difference happening. It explains the long flight too. They’re probably somewhere in the Pacific Ocean or Caribbean Sea right now, impossible to tell, but Stede can practically see the luxury resort that will get put smack in the middle of the arena once this is over.

“All right,” Sam agrees. “Let’s try for a couple hours of sleep, and then pick up again this afternoon. I’ll take first watch.”

“How noble of you.”

“What can I say.” Sam grins. He pulls out his pack. It’s about what they’d expect: a roll of twine, dried fruit and meat rations, a hunting knife, matches, a small tube of iodine, a small coil of wire, a thin thermal sleeping bag, and a canteen with no water in it. The only new addition seems to be a small pot that Sam immediately knows the purpose of. “It’s for desalination, to boil the salt out of the water.”

“Goddammit, of course.” Stede groans. His mouth and throat feel so dry, moreso now that he’s been reminded of their lack of water. What cruel irony that they could have water but are now too far away from the beach to get it. 

Everyone else’s packs are mostly the same, with Zheng’s having a large first aid kit and Ed’s having a baggie of arrowheads for makeshift spears and arrows. They end up consolidating the meat and passing the dried fruits around to each other. It’s too hot and they’re all too dehydrated to have any of the dried meat right now. 

“Aren’t you this big survivalist guy?” Sam asks between bites of dried apple. “Guy like you would know how to get water in a time like this.”

Stede sighs. He’d hoped they would come across some kind of water source by now, but no such luck. Still, there are things they can do. “It’s not ideal, but we could hypothetically just start finding leaves and grass to eat, everything around here is soaked.”

“Fucking assholes taunting us with water,” Zheng mutters under her breath, “and being oh so generous by providing dried salty food to eat.”

“They want us out in the open by the beach,” Ed adds. “We get the saltwater to boil, and while we’re sitting around we get taken out by some other group.”

“They’re quite clever, aren’t they.”

“That’s a word for it,” Ed grumbles.

Stede and Zheng make use of themselves while Sam keeps watch and Ed rests, finding large leaves with tiny pools of water and putting as much of it as they can in their canteens. It isn’t much, but after hours with no water whatsoever, it’s a godsend. They also find some edible plants and roots and store them away for later, munching on some now to get the moisture out.

“You’re quite resourceful,” Zheng says, actually sounding impressed. Stede feels his cheeks heat from the unexpected praise. “Izzy told me about you back at the training center.”

Izzy told her? Even more unexpected. “He did? What’d he say?”

“Nothing bad, just that you’re quite the survivalist, and that you know your way around plants and animals.” She smirks, glancing at him. “I mean, I gathered that from your Games, but seeing it in action firsthand, I’m damn impressed.”

“Thank you, and—and I’m sorry we said those things about you not being trustworthy.”

Zheng shrugs. “I did what I had to do to survive, same as you and Edward, same as Sam, same as everyone in here.” She pauses picking leaves off of their stems. “We all do things we’re not proud of when we’re desperate, just trying to keep living. After having my girls, I—well, I just imagined all the parents of the people I… Well, you know, watching their children think they’re good friends with someone, only for them to turn and stab them in the back. Literally. ”

Stede considers the woman in front of him, almost in her 60s, her age starting to show around her eyes and her greying hair, her children aging out of the Reaping, and yet her regret still lingers. She’s had a reputation that’s followed her since she was 16 years old, that she’s a backstabber, a liar, and revels in controlling people. But all Stede sees is a woman who couldn’t help but be a leader and survive. It’s in her nature, and if people had to get hurt or die along the way, then so be it. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you were able to make it out. Not ideal that you had to come back, but, you know.”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “You too. You remind me of my younger daughter: energetic, snarky, sweet. When you spoke about Shakespeare in the cave, she got excited because she loves him too. You were her favorite last year.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, she was rooting for you and Edward the whole time. We all were.” Zheng dumps the last bit of water from her leaf into the canteen. “That should do it for now.”

Stede gives his canteen a shake. It’s not completely full, but nearly there. The bottles’ caps double as tiny cups. Stede fills it halfway. “It’s not much, but until we find more, this is all we have.”

They somehow manage to make the water stretch for a few hours, reveling in the tiny sips as if they are the finest ambrosia. The sun has started its descent into the horizon when the dinging from a sponsor parachute can be heard and everyone immediately perks up. They spot it floating slowly down before getting caught in a nearby tree. Ed retrieves it and they all gather around as he twists it open. 

There’s a note inside: Drink up. - Jackie & Izzy

Beneath the note isn’t a water bottle, but a strange spout-looking object. “The fuck is that?”

Stede picks it up, the metal smooth and heavy in his hands. He’s seen similar tools before, though much cruder, spouts stuck into the sides of maple trees to get their sap in the spring. “I think it’s a spile.”

“A what?”

He picks up a sturdy-looking rock and stabs the spile into the side of one of the trees, hammering it in with the rock. Nothing happens at first, but if his theory is right… After a few moments, water begins flowing out, a slow trickle at first, but properly gushing after a few seconds. A wave of relief spreads across everyone, fighting for a moment underneath the spout for a drink and a chance to wipe their hands off and splash their faces and hair. 

They drink their fill and fill up all their canteens, and when that tree seems to be tapped out, Stede stores it for later in his bag. 

“How did you know that would work?” Zheng asks, capping her canteen and storing it safely in her pack.

“They use them in 12 to collect sap from maple trees to make syrup,” Stede explains. “And trees store water in their trunks, especially thick ones like these.”

Ed wraps his arms around Stede’s shoulders, giving him a giddy shake. “My boyfriend’s a fucking genius, that’s how he knew.” Ed kisses him hard on the cheek then his lips. “Thank you, Jackie and Izzy!” he yells out to the sky.

Stede laughs and shushes him. “Are you trying to get us caught?”

Ed grins, his eyes gleaming. “We can take on anyone now, I’m not scared.”

“Quite optimistic for someone I brought back from the dead earlier,” Sam muses.

“Yeah, how did you know how to do that?”

He takes a swig from his bottle. “Along with your typical career training, all the boys in 2 have to go through extensive military training. Survival, CPR, weapons handling, all that shit is par for the course. Also how I know how to desalinate shit.” 

The explanation is hardly surprising. It’s why District 2 is known for having more aggressive tributes. They’re trained by hardened military servicemen and peacekeepers. But as a Victor, Sam should’ve been allowed to not go through more training, especially since he was so young. 

“Y-you were a peacekeeper?” Stede asks. 

“No, I was able to abdicate my service cause I was a Victor.” He goes quiet for a moment, his usually calm and cool exterior dropping and eyebrows pinching together. “I had—I had other duties in the Capitol that required my presence a lot of the time.”

The sounds of crickets and frogs come to life around them in the quiet. Zheng seems to understand what he means, and rubs his arm, wiping away at her eyes with the other.

Stede looks at Ed, who looks just as clueless as Stede. Whatever these people were told to do in the Capitol, it wasn’t good, not at all.

“Anyway,” Sam smacks his knees with a huff, “it’s getting late, we had a long day.”

“Yeah,” Zheng agrees. “You got first watch right?”

“I do, don’t worry.”

“I trust you more than ever right now,” Ed says, spreading out his thermal bag. “I’ll take second. Wake me up in two hours.”

“Will do.”

They settle in for the night. Ed finds them a spot tucked up next to a tree where the roots part, making a natural alcove for them to snuggle into. The anthem plays just before Stede dozes off, listing the five dead tributes. No one they really know, thankfully. 

As the anthem fades out, the lightning and foghorns from earlier come back too, twelve of each ringing out through the arena. He shoves his hands against his ears and digs his face into Ed’s chest. As soon as they play, they’re gone, leaving the arena quiet, save for the nighttime bugs and distant sound of rain trickling. 

-

Ed doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep. It has to be at least three hours. Sam is slumped over, asleep where he’s sitting against one of the trees. He must have drifted off during his watch. Zheng is asleep a few feet away from them, and Stede is snoring cuddled up next to Ed. Ed sits up, making Stede stir a bit, but he nestles back in, peacefully asleep as if he isn’t in the arena. Ed can’t blame him. Despite the uncomfortable ground and ever-present threat of danger, Ed was also sleeping better than he has in weeks, finally being able to be next to Stede again.

Ed gets up, peering into the trees. He’s not sure what woke him, but his senses are prickling, his instincts telling him there’s something wrong.

There’s something in the distance, creeping towards them like a hungry tiger. It’s not an animal or a human, though. In his half-asleep haze, Ed it looks almost like a sentient cloud. Tendrils of white smoky fog creep closer and closer to them, silent, completely void of any wind pushing it closer.

Ed reaches out a tentative hand to it. He doesn’t know why, just knows that it’s wrong. The moment the creeping fog touches the tip of his finger, he screams, searing pain shooting through his entire body. His skin blisters and bubbles as if he’d touched flames.

“Run!” he yells to the group stirring around him, suddenly woken up. “Run, the fog is poison!”

There’s a scramble to get up and grab everything in a hurry. Stede and Zheng are too slow to get up, screaming out as the fog hits them. Ed rushes to Stede, grabbing their packs and hauling Stede to his feet, pulling him out of the fog’s reach. Sam has done the same with Zheng and the four of them are finally up and moving, just as the fog rolls over where Stede had been peacefully sleeping moments before. 

They race through the trees and Ed spares a worried thought for the force field, whether the fog is going to chase them all straight into it, but he realizes they’re being herded away from it, in toward the Cornucopia. It’s a clumsy affair, all of them sleep-muddled, bodies moving on autopilot with the adrenaline pumping through their systems. They catch on branches and roots, stumbling. Behind them the fog advances, eerily silent, ominous. 

Ed isn’t as practiced as Stede is at navigating through a dense forest, and when his foot catches on a root he pitches forward. He throws his hands out and they scrape on rock and bark. He scrambles to try and get up, but in his heart he knows it’s too late. The fog is descending on them too rapidly. He feels it licking at his toes, burning like acid. He has a moment to think at least it’s me and not him as he crawls forward, waiting for the fog to consume him. 

It never comes. There’s an arm around his back, yanking him up, and then solid warmth behind him and a terrible scream of pain as Stede covers Ed’s body with his own. “Stede!” Ed cries. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Move!” Hands grab at him and Stede, pulling them back up and forward. “We’ve got to fucking move!”

Ed’s up and steady on his feet again and then they’re running, Stede’s breathing ragged behind him. They manage to put some distance between them and the fog before he hears Stede collapse. Ed doubles back, pulling at him, but Stede shakes his head. 

“I can’t, Ed, I can’t.” He’s shaking, crying, his body going into shock from the pain. “Just go.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ed yells. He gets one of Stede’s arms around his shoulders, heaving him back up. “I’m not fucking leaving you.” He drags them forward, Stede leaning heavily on him. “I’ll fucking carry you through this entire fucking arena if I have to.”

He doesn’t have to, it turns out, because Sam is there seconds later. “Help him up,” he orders, all hints of his flirty, disengenuous Capitol persona stripped away. Ed boosts Stede up onto Sam’s back and Stede clings his arms around Sam’s neck, still shivering. 

Zheng is ahead of them and they rush to follow. The fog is encroaching closer and closer, burning their skin with painful blisters. It takes Ed out at the knees, making him trip and fall down the decline in front of them. He can make out the rest of the group try and call out for him, but they all slip and go down the same way, ending up on the ground next to him. 

He can’t move, it’s too painful. He can see the fog getting closer and closer. If this is how he’s to go, then at least Stede is here next to him, and will go the same way. Ed watches as it spills over the edge where they just fell, bracing himself for the moment it rolls over them. The fog approaches, a bulbous wave of smoke running down the hill like water. He sucks in a breath, reaching out for Stede, bumping his hand against Stede’s arm. 

He doesn’t understand what he’s seeing at first. The fog billows up, like a wave crashing against a cliff. It takes a moment for him to realize that it’s being stopped by another force field, that it’s reached the edge of its domain. The fog builds up and up, a wall of wispy white, before finally dissipating.

Ed lets his head fall back, relief spilling through his chest. Every single inch of Ed’s body burns with a kind of shooting pain he’s never felt before in his life. The sounds of the three others in his group, groaning and whining in pain, are all he can hear as they lay there for a long moment, in disbelief that they’re still alive.

A scream spits the air, propelling Ed to lift himself up onto one arm, turning to find the source. Zheng has rolled over and pulled herself to some sort of water source, one arm plunged into it. “The water,” she strains, “the water helps.”

Ed turns and slowly crawls towards the small pond that’s come into view. He sticks a hand in and lets out a silent cry at the sting. But amazingly, as he rubs at the blisters on his hand, they disappear, sweet relif following. He crawls deeper and deeper, submerging his body, with Sam doing the same next to him. 

Once Ed feels strong enough, he drags Stede into the water as well. The blood-curdling scream Stede lets out turns Ed’s stomach, but he holds him through it, clutching Stede close to his chest as the blisters disappear.

“Fuck,” Stede whispers in a small voice as the worst of the blisters begin to disappear. There are silent tears streaming down his face at the combination of pain and relief.

Ed wipes at his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Stede shakes his head. “‘S fine, you saved us.”

“The least I could do to repay the favor.”

Stede leans in to kiss him, soft and light and gentle. For the moment, they’re safe again, as safe as they can be in here. They drag each other out of the water and curl into each other, Ed holding Stede as tight as he can and Stede returning the hug, tangling his legs up with Ed’s. 

-

“My god that was quite the ending for the day.”

“I’ll say, Lucius. The District 1 duo, Sam Bellamy, and Stede Bonnet were very lucky to find the end of their wedge. Now we’ll see what this wedge has in store in the coming hours.”

“It’s been an active day already, Frenchie. Some really incredible designing on the part of our new head gamemaker, David Jenkins. We saw what happened to Gabriel and Antoinette of District 3 before Ned Low and Edward Bonnet found them in their wedge. They were lucky not to be pulled under and drowned.”

“I know I was terrified. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw that thing rising from the water. The mutts they’ve made this year easily rival any Games I’ve ever seen. They’ve never been this advanced.”

“Well I’m sure we’ll see many more as the Games go on. Unfortunately, however, this ends our coverage for the day.”

“We’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow morning for day two of the 75th annual Hunger Games. For now, I’m Frenchie Feeney-Fry.”

“And I’m Lucius Spriggs. Sleep tight, Panem.”

Chapter Text

As quickly as the fog dissipates, so does their adrenaline. Now boil- and pain-free, the four of them settle back down near the edge of the pond.  

Ed’s still asleep when he hears it, a muffled sound at first, turning to a full audible voice.

“Edward.” 

It’s… it’s Stede’s voice. Calling out to him. He blinks himself awake, rubbing the gunk out of his eyes, and the voice keeps calling. “Ed, come here.”

He looks down. Stede’s still asleep, clutching onto Ed and lightly snoring. Zheng is asleep nearby too, but Sam is nowhere to be seen.

There’s a splash in the water. “Edward, come see this.” It’s unmistakably Stede’s voice. Despite the fact that Stede is lying right next to him, arm around his waist, he can’t ignore his love’s call.

He feels outside of his own body. Ed’s had these sort of dreams before, lucid and vivid as if he were awake. It takes a bit of muscling, but he separates himself from Stede, compelled towards the pond. He crawls over, the water rippling. There’s a glow just below the surface that he feels drawn to, and he leans over the edge.

“Ed, come here.”

“I’m here,” he says back. “Where are you?”

“Down here.” The light becomes brighter and brighter, a soft sparkly golden glow that finally surfaces. It’s Stede, somehow, but not. Golden light glows from his skin. “My darling.” This other Stede holds out a hand, glittery golden scales going down his shoulders. “Join me. I have something I want to show you.”

Ed is transfixed. His Stede is beautiful, undeniably so, but still, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as beautiful as the person in front of him. There’s something otherworldly about him, something ethereal about this version of Stede that he swears he’s seen in countless dreams before. He takes Stede’s hand without any hesitation and wades into the water.

The pond is deeper than Ed expects. It drops off after a few feet, leaving Ed free floating in the middle of it. Stede leads him further into the water, further from the edge before diving below the surface. Ed follows dream Stede deep under the water, blinking to clear his eyes. 

The figure in front of him comes into focus, and this Stede doesn’t just glow and have glittery skin. He’s a full-on fucking mermaid, tail with golden scales shimmering and shining against the dull water. Now Ed knows he’s had this dream before, many, many times actually. He’s as beautiful as Ed remembers every single one being. 

Ed floats there in the water, watching this beautiful creature as best he can with his own eyes underwater. Stede comes in closer, caressing Ed’s jaw with a finned hand, a gentle smile on his face. He leans in, lips puckered in a kiss, when something in Ed’s head seems to snap. There’s a sudden silence, where before there had been a hum in his ears, one he hadn’t even realized was there. It had been beautiful, he remembers that much, there since the first call of his name. Ed’s head clears as he shakes it a few times, and he lurches back.

The being in front of him has changed. 

Stede is gone. He was most likely never even there, something being projected into Ed’s mind by this… this… thing. This thing before him, which barely even resembles a human, is more a skeleton with skin stretched over it. A massive, unnatural mouth with rows of sharp teeth grins back at him, its jaw wide open waiting to strike. 

Ed sucks in a breath to scream, water filling his lungs, and he chokes. It hits him then: this is all real. He kicks the creature and pushes back, starting his ascent back up. The mer-creature trails fast behind him.

He surfaces with a gasp, as does the thing. The real Stede is there by the water, calling out to Ed and holding his hands out for him to take. Ed swims as fast as he can, the creature’s horrible claws scrabbling after his legs. 

Just as Ed catches the real Stede’s arms and reaches the bank of the pond, the creature digs its claws into Ed, scratching down the length of his right leg. Ed screams, clutching at Stede as Stede tightens his grip. A rush of air passes by his right ear and he hears the thing screech, and finally it releases him. Zheng stands above them, her bow trained on the creature as it falls back into the water, green blood oozing from the arrow wound in its head. 

Stede holds Ed close to his chest, breathing heavily. “Thank god, there was a canon shot and—and I thought—I thought you drowned. What was that thing?!”

Ed winces as he turns over to lay on his back. “It—it looked like you, mate. Sounded like you too, at least for a little bit.”

Stede gapes at him before their attention is drawn to splashing at the other side of the pond. Another one of those things is on Sam, its hands clawing into his shoulders as he screams and yells for help. Without hesitation, Zheng draws a bead on it and lets an arrow fly. It hits its mark right in the head. She reaches for him to pull him out.

He kneels at the edge of the pond on all fours for a moment, hacking and coughing up water. “It was Rachel,” his voice shakes out. “She—she called to me, I heard her voice, I fucking saw her.”

“It wasn’t real,” Ed says, knowing that Sam saw the same sort of thing. He has a vague idea of what these things are. “They’re sirens. They’re like a combination of jabberjays and tracker jackers, making you see and hear what they want you to. Capitol mutts.” He looks between Stede and Zheng. “Neither of you heard it?”

Stede shrugs. “I heard you calling to me, but I thought it was in my dream.”

Zheng crouches at the edge of the pond, studying the closest siren corpse. “Anytime I hear my husband’s voice now, it’s in a nightmare. I knew it wasn’t real.”

“So they lure you in with the sound of your lover,” Stede says, his hand tightening on Ed’s arm. “And then reveal their true form once they have you.”

Ed mutters under his breath, “Thats fucking diabolical.” He wonders what the audience saw. Could they see the real creaturethe entire time, or did their call reach through the broadcast? Were the viewers taken in the same way Ed and Sam were, by the sound and the visage of their greatest love?

“Weaponizing love,” Sam says, pushing to his feet with a grunt. “As if they haven’t taken enough from us. As if they don’t already hold us hostage by threatening the people we care about.” Sam picks up one of their discarded swords, swinging it with a furious cry at one of the nearby trees. “Fucking monsters.”

“Bellamy,” Zheng says, her normally wry voice dead serious. “Cassie.”

Sam hacks at the tree one last time before dropping the sword, letting his head hang forward. “I know.”

Stede squeezes Ed’s arm and they exchange an understanding glance. It seems that they aren’t the only ones who the Capitol has tried to control through the people they love.

“Your leg,” Stede says, drawing their focus back to the immediate issue. 

Ed twists it to study it, hissing at the sting. The siren had easily shredded through his clothing to his skin beneath, four slashes bleeding sluggishly along the back of his leg. He’s vaguely aware of Zheng going to Sam, of them talking in hushed voices as she guides him to sit, to examine his shoulders.

“Here,” Stede says, reaching for one of the packs. He pulls out the first aid kit from Zheng’s, making quick work of searching through it to find what he needs. “And don’t you dare say that it’s fine. We’re not doing that again,” Stede adds firmly, his eyes boring into Ed’s.

Ed sighs, biting back the urge to insist that he is fine, and lets Stede work. It’s the matter of only a few minutes for Stede to have his wound disinfected and wrapped. Zheng and Sam rejoin them as he finishes, Sam’s wounds much more superficial than Ed’s had been. 

“We should move on,” Zheng says, gathering up her things. “Clearly we aren’t going to be able to sleep here safely, and it’s nearly morning anyway.”

They come to find they’re closer to the beach than they realized. The short walk is hell on Ed’s leg, but he manages to lean on Stede the whole time for support. The sun is indeed starting to come up, casting the entire sky into a beautiful violet and pink. Even though Ed knows it isn’t real, it’s nevertheless gorgeous. 

Sam makes use of his pent up anger and frustration by making up a spear with a massive stick and one of the loose arrowheads and catching them some breakfast. He brings back a few fish and a couple oysters that Stede cooks up over the quick fire he’s built.

Ed can’t help but feel a bit strange eating fish right now after what just happened, but he digs in anyway. It’s cooked food after all, and he’s not exactly super picky at the moment. Stede opens up one of the oysters, and smiles wide at the sight of a perfect round pearl in the center.

He places it in Ed’s hand. “For you.”

Ed smiles, his cheeks heating. “Aw, thanks, babe.” Ed kisses him on the side of his head. The pearl is small, about the size of his pinky fingernail, and an iridescent milky white color. Ed rolls it in his fingers a few times before putting it safe in an interior pocket on the chest part of his jumpsuit. 

The sun’s fully come up now, and with it, they hear a scream in the distance. It’s the first time they’ve heard another person since yesterday. “That’s new.”

Everyone grabs their weapons, prepared to fight whatever incoming threat they’re about to face. Someone breaches the jungle, and Ed’s eyes go wide. They’re covered in blood. Not just splattered in a few places, no, covered in the stuff. From head to toe, they’re covered in deep red blood. It takes a moment for Ed to realize it’s Jim he’s looking at, and then a moment later, three other people follow. Oluwande, Buttons, and Rachel, all three also coated in in blood, all crash onto the beach, heading straight for the water.

Jim catches sight of them and storms towards the group. “Sam!” 

Stede exchanges a glance with Ed as they follow Sam and Zheng. “Guess we have more allies.”

“What the hell happened to you guys?” Sam asks, looking past Jim towards Rachel, who’s washing herself off in the water.

“We were sleeping, and it started to rain. Fucking great, we thought. We haven’t found any drinkable water, so we thought, hey! We can collect some rainwater! Drink that! Only the rain? Turned out to be blood!” They spit, and wipe at their mouth. “Saf’s gone. They weren’t much, but they were from home.” 

So that’s who the mystery canon shot was this morning, Ed thinks to himself. 

Oluwande approaches, dripping with water, having washed most of the blood off. “Jim, you want to go rinse off?”

They grimace, glancing behind them. “Not with the fucking sea witch over there doing…whatever that is.”

The group follows their stare to see Buttons standing in the water, stripping out of his suit. He’s talking, but they’re too far away to hear what he’s saying. Rachel stops next to him, carefully averting her eyes, and says something to him before heading their way. Ed doesn’t miss the way her eyes brighten when she sees Sam.

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Stede says quietly to Ed as the older tributes gather together to disclose what they’ve seen so far.

“What, really?” Ed asks, glancing to Buttons, wrinkling his nose at the full sight of his nude behind, his hands stretched to the sky. He can only imagine how they’re censoring this on TV, and what sort of witty quips Lucius and Frenchie are giving to mask their horror. “Isn’t he a bit…?”

Stede rolls his eyes. “He’s odd, but he knows his shit, and he’s got a different way of looking at things. If we’ve all had this shit happen to us, he must have some sort of insight.”

-

Stede slowly wades into the water. Rachel passes on her way to join the group and gives him a look, exasperated. “Have fun with nuts over there.”

He comes up next to Buttons, who seems to be staring at the Cornucopia. Stede scoops up water and lets it cascade over his shoulders. “Hey, I’m just gonna help you out with this.”

Buttons says nothing for a time, not even seeming to notice Stede running water over him. He stares at the Cornucopia, then finally up at the sky as he mutters, “East, northeast in two hours.”

“What?”

“12 blares, north and south.”

Stede looks towards the Cornucopia. Its tail is facing towards them. But… but that’s impossible. It was facing due northeast yesterday morning. And then yesterday, when he climbed to the canopy, the tail was facing towards the top of the arena, due true north at noon. He hadn’t even noticed.

The wedges, eight of them, all eight cardinal directions. 

It’s not a clock. “It’s a compass,” he says in quiet realization. “The arena, it’s—it’s a compass!” He grabs Buttons by the shoulders, excitedly shaking him. “You’re a genius!”

After some rinsing off, he and Buttons go back to shore, Buttons back in his wetsuit after some coaxing from Stede. Stede draws out the arena in the sand, explaining as he goes. “This entire arena is laid out like a massive compass, with a different threat in each wedge, playing out every three hours.” He looks up at the group they’ve paired with, all of them chugging down water from the extra water bottles. “They appear to activate at the top of the hour, and then go for an unknown amount of time within their three hours. We had poisonous fog and these siren creatures in ours.”

“We only had the blood rain,” Rachel says, leaning on Sam’s shoulder. They can hear the sound of rain trickling in the trees behind them, red seeping out onto the sand, “it’s still going. Must’ve stayed in our wedge the whole time.”

“Whatever they might be, we’re definitely not safe in the south and southeast quadrants at night. We’d be better off going due west.” Stede looks up at the group. “Do we know if anyone is camped out there?”

“No idea,” says Olu. “We couldn’t get a bead on your dad. He and Ned Low and the weird sibling spouses from 3 I think headed west, southwest maybe. That’s where we last saw them anyway.”

Well, that isn’t reassuring.

Still, they would be better off heading into a hopefully inactive portion of the arena for the next few hours at least, try and regroup and make a plan. They’re a big enough group now too that his father and Ned Low would be idiots to try and attack them, even with potentially two extra allies.

Once everyone has cleaned themselves off and drank their fill from their stock of water, easily replenished at the tree line, they head directly west, back into the jungle. They make for an unusually large group, eight of them traipsing through the brush, alert for any signs of an attack. Ed and Stede are safe in the middle of the group, Sam leading with Rachel right on his heels, Jim and Oluwande bringing up the rear. It’s unlikely that they’re near the edge of the arena after only half an hour of slow walking, often having to pause to cut through the thick brush, but all the same, Sam starts tossing stones out in front of them to make sure they aren’t going to walk right into it. 

They’ve been walking for nearly an hour when there’s a new noise that breaks through the jungle sounds. It’s not unlike a distant roar, a rush of something, and it has the entire group on alert immediately, despite the fact that it doesn’t sound close. Within seconds, Stede picks out the tallest tree near them.

“I’m going up,” he announces and before the group even has a moment to argue, Ed is boosting him up to the lowest branch and he scrambles up as quickly as he can. 

He breaks through the canopy just in time to hear distant screams to the north, followed quickly by two cannon shots. He watches in horror as whatever it is causes the trees in the entire northern corner of the arena to ripple, shaking like an army of giants is moving through them, converging on the Cornucopia. 

What bursts through the tree line is a wall of water, maybe 15 feet tall, surging forward in its awe-inspiring and terrifying power. “Holy shit,” Stede breathes. For a moment he wonders if this is it, if the wave is going to sweep through the entire arena. They would be powerless against it, unable to do anything except be swept away by the force of it, tossed into the current, probably smashed into a tree before even being able to drown. 

But the wave, apparently like all the other dangers they’ve come across so far, seems to be relegated to one area of the arena. It crashes against the force fields, surging up with the force of the water in much the same way the acid fog had. The water spills out as the force field drops, apparently having done its job in stopping the wave. It rushes over the paths to the Cornucopia, soaking the beach.

Stede waits for a moment longer to see if anything else comes, but when nothing does, he makes his way back down where seven pairs of eyes are turned up to him, waiting to hear what he found out. He drops down from the bottom branch, nearly right into Ed’s arms as he pulls him in and presses a kiss to his temple. 

“Fucking lunatic,” he says proudly, only a slight admonishment in his voice as he continues, “No idea what was out there. Could have gotten yourself killed.”

Stede spares a moment to grin at him before getting to the task at hand. “Well, good thing we didn’t go north, or we would all be dead.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Jim asks. They’re armed, knives in both hands, and their knuckles clench on them. It’s not a threat, Stede knows, just instinct.

“Huge fucking tidal wave,” he says, demonstrating the force of it with his hand. “Right through the entire northern sections. Swept through the whole thing from the edge of the arena right to the Cornucopia. Hit the northeast and northwest force fields. Like, actually hit them, crashed into them. And then just… spilled over and drained out.”

There’s a round of muttered curses from the group as they exchange worried glances. Ed tightens his grip around Stede’s waist and Stede feels the same frisson of fear pass through them both at the thought of what the rest of the arena might contain. He hopes they haven’t made a mistake by heading into an unknown area, rather than sticking with the dangers they know. 

“Aye, the sea is a dangerous mistress,” Buttons says ominously, breaking the tension. “But she is the only love for me.”

“Right,” Zheng says flatly. “Except that wasn’t the sea, it was the fucking gamemakers, Buttons.”

“And she cannot be tamed,” Buttons continues, as if Zheng hadn’t spoken at all. “Mark me, any who believe they’ve succeeded will be taken for fools in the end.”

They let the warning settle over them for a few seconds before Sam says, “Anyway… So we should maybe…keep going then?”

“No.” The group turns in sync to stare in surprise at the force behind Jim’s word. They’re shifting on their feet, fingers white-knuckled on their knives, uncharacteristically uneasy by the whole situation. They look around the group, shaking their head when their eyes land on Olu. “No, if anything, we stay put. There’s nothing going on, and no one else around here, and we’re covered by the trees. Just… just sit.”

They’re met with silence until Oluwande steps closer. “You ok?” Oluwande asks, and what a question for the situation they’re all in. He reaches out to touch Jim’s shoulder and they step back.

“No. No, I’m really not.” They don’t elaborate, storming away. They unceremoniously drop their knives on the ground before perching themselves on a rock next to a small pond, facing away. The entire group stares at them, confused by the whole interaction. 

Rachel shrugs and sets her small pack down, pulling out a baggie of jerky. “Well, if we’re staying put, I’ll keep first watch.” Sam sits next to her and she holds the bag out to him, their heads bent together as they start speaking in low voices. 

The rest of the group fans out, finding spots to sit and rest or take a quick nap. Oluwande slumps close by, his back to a tree, throwing concerned glances in Jim’s direction.

Stede isn’t sure what he should do, whether he should give Jim some space or try and talk to them. He’s usually the one to intervene in a situation like this, to see what’s wrong and offer a comforting presence. It’s what he does, he helps. But Ed surprisingly takes the lead.

He runs his hand down the back of Stede’s arm, squeezing his elbow. “I’ll go see what’s up with them.”

“You sure?” Stede grimaces, remembering the way Jim had approved of Stede’s anger at Ed back in the spa. God, was that only a week ago? “I don’t think they’re exactly your number one fan right now. Think they’re still mad at you for volunteering.”

He shrugs. “I’ll manage.”

-

Jim looks like a small child, sitting with their knees tucked under their chin, perched at the highest point of a rock like a cat. They’re poking at the water with a stick, swishing it around, making swirling patterns in the water. Ed approaches slowly, careful not to scare them or anything. Jim doesn’t even look back, but knows he’s there. “I don’t wanna hear it from you, Teach.”

Ed sits on the edge of the rock, giving Jim their space. “Not here to convince you to leave the area or anything like that, just fucking sit with you or whatever.”

They grunt. “Fine. Not like I can fucking stop you.” They swish the stick through the water, a few drops splashing up and hitting Ed.

“Shit, mate. You got me.” Ed wipes a single drop of water off his forehead. “Lethal. Gotta watch you with that stick.”

“If I wanted to I could easily kill someone with this,” Jim grumbles, but there’s a tug at the corners of their lips. 

Ed sighs, stretching his legs out in front of him, turning his face up to the leaves. He can feel the heat of the sun seeping through, rays breaking through small openings in the canopy. “This would be nice if it weren’t for, you know, fucked up mermaids that try to drown you and blood rain and poison fog and massive tidal waves.”

“It’s a fucking murder bubble,” Jim snaps. “It’s not a vacation.” They lower their voice, almost too quiet for Ed to hear it. “Despite what some of you seem to think.”

“You know, none of us are happy to be here.”

“Could have fooled me!” Jim stabs their stick into the mud. “Because you were pretty fucking eager to get back in here!”

Ed glances back to the main group. Stede’s eyes are on him from where he’s sitting by Buttons, brows furrowed in concern. Oluwande isn’t far from the two of them, still watching Jim without making it look like he’s watching Jim. He’s worrying something in his hands, flashes of thin copper glinting in the sun as he winds and unwinds it around his fingers. 

“You know that’s not why I volunteered,” Ed says, looking back to Jim just in time to see them turn back to the pond, pretending they weren’t also watching Oluwande. 

Jim pulls the stick back out from the mud, swishing it through the pond water. “Still stupid. Really fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Like, really, really fucking stupid, man.”

“Yeah, trust me, I-I know.” Ed shakes his head. “I’ve heard. From multiple people.”

Jim’s back to slow swirls, the water gently rippling out across the pond. “But I get why you did it. I mean, if it were….” They clench their jaw. “Not like I have a leg to stand on, it’s basically what I did.”

“You did what you thought was right, same as me.”

They don’t say anything for a time, instead burying their face closer into their legs. “I was 11 when he was reaped, my brother.” They suck in a breath, and wipe at their eyes. “Imagine watching your own brother die on television. They even zoomed in on his body. I vowed there and then to get my revenge. I trained, as best as I could with what little resources we had. My nana helped. Taught me how to throw knives, how to be patient, precise. As soon as I turned 12, I started putting my name in more times. The tesserae I got helped my family get by, and I was this much closer to getting reaped, I could feel it.” 

“But you weren’t reaped.”

“No, I volunteered. Like a fucking idiot, I volunteered cause I was sick of waiting. I got the highest score anyone’s ever got in judgment, until Stede came along, of course. And I got into that arena and…” They pause, gripping the stick tighter, near to snapping. “And I slaughtered every single career, and anyone else that got in my way. To avenge my brother.”

Ed can see the amount of pain Jim carries plain on their face. They were 14, only a baby. “Do you regret it?”

“Regret it?” Jim laughs with no humor behind it. “You know the most wild part? It was all pointless. Me doing that didn’t bring my brother back, it didn’t stop my parents from wasting away after he died. It didn’t stop them from dying themselves by the time I got home from my Games.”

They’re growing more agitated with every word, roughly swishing the stick back and forth, small ripples cascading out. “It didn’t stop my nana from continuing to enable me to seek more revenge. I just killed a bunch of kids who didn’t deserve it, whose only crime was being from the same District as someone who contributed to my brother’s murder. That’s not admirable to me. That’s not worthy of celebration. And yet here I am, having to be the perfect little show pony for these Capitol putas!” They finally stab the water, clear through the side of a fish.

They hold up the fish, still flopping on the stick, its blood running down the sides. “La vida es dolor,” Jim says in a small whisper.

Ed is silent for a moment, watching as the life slowly bleeds from the fish until its movements grow sluggish, and then stop. “What does that mean?”

Jim holds the fish up, stroking a finger along its silver scales. “Life is pain. It’s all we’ve ever known. Pain, death, and suffering.” They turn to look at Ed for the first time and shake their head, “And here you are, the first time around, doing it for your mom. Which I understand, but the second time… why the fuck would you do this?”

It sounds so stupid out loud, and he’s sure a lot of people won’t get it, but it makes the most sense in the world to Ed. “Cause I love him. I—I love Stede too much to not protect him from all of this. Same with my mom. It was the only way I felt like I could protect and help her. And it worked. I couldn’t live with myself if Stede died because I wasn’t there to have his back.”

He suspects it’s the same reason Oluwande volunteered, by the way Jim looks at him. All their animosity towards Ed seems to be gone, just frustration with their situation remaining. “Love is weird. Makes us do stupid shit.”

“Yeah.” Ed looks back at Stede, talking with Sam and Rachel and Olu about something, emphatically using his hands to make some sort of point. Ed smiles. “Wouldn’t trade it for anything though.”

“Yeah, neither would I.”

-

The hours pass relatively uneventfully. The group takes turns napping and keeping watch. At one point, Stede and Rachel head off into the jungle—remaining within shouting distance—to forage some food. They have some of the Capitol-provided rations left, but it’s best to try to save it for an emergency. They come back with an assortment of fruits that Ed only recognizes thanks to the few Capitol functions he’s attended: mangos, bananas, papayas, pineapples. God knows no one in 1 has access to papayas. 

The day is passing from afternoon into early evening, Ed dozing lightly with his head on Stede’s lap, when something catches his attention. He lifts his head, listening intently.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Stede asks, his hand paused where it had been stroking through Ed’s hair. 

“Did you hear that?”

Stede frowns. “Hear what?”

A moment later it comes again, sounding closer. “That.” Ed pushes himself up to sit, staring hard in the direction the sound came from. “It sounds like—”

This time, the call is closer still, distinct enough for him to recognize, without a doubt, what it’s saying, and who’s saying it. “Edward!”

“Mom!” Ed cries. He scrambles up to his feet, already moving before he even has solid ground beneath him. 

“Ed!” he hears Stede yell behind him, and with him the concerned calls of their allies. 

“Edward, please!”  

“Mom, I’m coming!” Ed crashes through the brush, stumbling over roots. He can hear the group yelling after him, but all he can think about is his mom’s voice, the panic. He has to get to her. He has to save her. 

Her screams are coming closer together now, and he can tell he’s drawing near. He finally crashes through a thicket into a small clearing. “Mom! Where are you?”

“Edward! Edward, please!”

It inexplicably sounds like it’s coming from above him and he looks up, not sure what he’s expecting to find. His mom having climbed up a tree? Her trapped in a cage up there? In a fucking gibbet?

What he sees instead is a black bird perched on a branch, blue-headed and crested. When it opens its mouth, his mother’s voice comes out in a scream and relief courses through him.

He can hear someone approaching and he turns, expecting Stede, but it’s Zheng pushes her way into the clearing, sword out and ready. 

“It’s just a jabberjay,” Ed says, his shoulders sagging as he allows his body to relax. The bird in question takes off, flying away, his mother’s voice fading.

“Mommy!”  

“Ruby?!” Zheng spins around wildly, taking off in the direction of the scream.

“Mom!”

“Mommy!”

“Opal, Ruby?!” 

Ed follows her as she crashes through the bush, branches and leaves whipping him in the face and arms and his bare leg. She hasn’t gone far, standing staring up at the trees, breathing heavily. 

“It’s not them!” Ed says, and she whips around to face him. “They’re just jabberjays.”

“Then how do they make that sound?” Zheng demands, her eyes wide and wild. “Jabberjays copy.”  

Ed sucks in a sharp breath.

“Zheng!” a man’s voice yells out, joining the chorus of her daughters’ screams. She collapses to the ground, covering her ears.

Tears stream down her face. “Ke—Ke, no, please god no!”

“Zheng baby, please!”

“STOP!” 

“Edward!” Another voice rings out, and then another and another: Izzy, Jackie, Fang. Ivan. All screaming for Ed.

He can barely handle it. They all sound so real. He collapses onto the ground, the birds bombarding him from above. One last voice shines through. 

“Ed!” 

“Stede!” It can’t be real, there’s no way it is. Five minutes ago he was in Stede’s lap, Stede drawing his fingers through Ed’s hair. But the sound of his screams…

“Ed, darling!”

Ed screams, crying uncontrollably as all the birds turn to Stede’s voice in an instant. 

Through his tears, he can see Stede in front of him, obviously safe, obviously not screaming for help. Ed lurches up, running for him only to hit a solid invisible wall. Another force field. He presses his hands against it, desperate to get out, to get away from Stede’s screams, to touch the real Stede, right in front of him. Hold him in his arms. Make sure he’s okay. 

Stede’s talking, yelling at him, but Ed can’t hear it. He sinks to his knees and Stede mirrors him, still yelling, hands pressed to where Ed’s are on the force field. Ed leans his forehead on the wall and Stede does the same. It’s not real, it looks like he’s saying. They’re mutts, none of it is real. I’m right here. I’m okay.

Ed knows that. Ed knows that. Stede is right there, right in front of him. The screams are fake, manufactured torture, but they still pierce Ed to his core. He clamps his hands over his ears, trying to block out the sound, but it’s too much. It’s too loud. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes. Stede’s screams are interspersed with his mother’s, with their friends’. Ed feels himself floating after a while, his mind blocking out the torture by just…stopping. And it’s not exactly better, but it is numbing.  

Eventually he comes back into his body when he feels arms around him, someone shifting him, a mouth pressed to his head. “Ed, darling, it’s over. It’s okay. It’s over. You’re safe.”

“Stede?” Ed asks. His voice comes out in a croak, raw from his own screams. 

“Yeah, sweetie, it’s me.” His hand rubs Ed’s back, soothing, strong, grounding movements. “I’m okay. We’re both okay.”

Ed pulls back for just a moment, needing to look at Stede. To know that he’s really okay. That he isn’t hurt, that he’s here and real and safe. Stede’s eyes are red around the rims, like he’s been crying too, but he smiles softly at Ed, swiping his thumb across Ed’s cheek. “Stede,” Ed whispers, and he collapses into Stede’s arms. 

Stede pulls him onto his lap, arms strong around Ed, his chest solid and safe. Ed clings to him, feeling slightly ridiculous—they weren’t in any actual danger, after all, at least beyond the inherent danger of the arena itself—but he needs to feel Stede. The screams… It had all been so terrible. Everything in Ed’s body had screamed at him to go, to save Stede, save his mother, everyone he loved, but he…he had been powerless. Unable to do anything except curl up into a ball and wait for it to all be over. 

“Stede, that was…that was awful.” Stede hums, kissing his head, rubbing soothing circles into Ed’s back. “Zheng,” Ed suddenly remembers. “Is she…?”

“She’s… Well, she’s not okay,” Stede says with a sigh. Ed can only imagine how much worse it must have been for her, hearing not only her late husband’s voice calling for her, but her two daughters, as well. “But she’s not hurt. Oluwande and Rachel are with her.”

He can see them across the opening in the trees. Zheng is shaking in Rachel’s arms, her eyes bloodshot and hair mussed and unkempt from her perfect pigtails. Ed thinks about Zheng’s children and aunt, having to see their mother, a stoic and strong woman who can take on anything head-on, be beaten down by the Capitol. Crying and shaking, trying to forget the sounds of their dead father and husband screaming in her ears. 

They’re not moving. If there’s one thing they all know, no one is moving tonight. They’re safe right here for another 24 hours, and they’re a big enough group to defend themselves from anyone who might get in their way. Ed sinks further into Stede’s hold, cuddling in close to his chest. 

He’s safe here. At least he feels like it.

-

“Whew, Frenchie, it’s been an action-packed day for our tributes.”

“It sure has, Lucius. Starting the day off in the middle of the night with those siren mutts. God, those were freaky.”

“I was on the edge of my seat, watching District 1’s Edward Teach be lured into the water by it. Thank god Stede woke up in time to snap him out of it.”

“And we had to say goodbye to both of our District 10 tributes after that tidal wave. They really didn’t stand a chance, did they?”

“They didn’t, and what a shame. You know, I’m dying to talk about that plan Bonnet Sr and Ned Low have cooking though.”

“It’s true, we haven’t seen much of that group since they encountered Antoinette and Gabriel from District 3 yesterday. They’ve been keeping a low profile.”

“Uncharacteristic of all four of them, actually.”

“I don’t think they have any idea how large a group they’ll be going up against. Bonnet Jr and Edward Teach have amassed an impressive group of allies.”

“Something tells me that won’t be an issue with what they’ve got cooked up, though, Frenchie.”

“You might be right. This year really is something else, Lucius.”

“One for the history books, absolutely.”

Chapter Text

For the first time this Games, it’s a relatively quiet afternoon. Now that the jabberjays are inactive, having run for about an hour, the spot seems to be a good one to camp out. Ed and Zheng are still clearly shaken from the attack by the jabberjays, but the bombardment has subsided since then. Most of the group is either resting or preparing some food. Across the clearing, Zheng seems to have found herself wrapped in Oluwande’s arms, her head dipping every few minutes as she fights off sleep. Jim sits at a bit of a distance from them, sharpening one of their knives. Buttons has wandered off into the woods, but is still close enough that Stede can hear him talking to some of the jabberjays, who have returned to normal bird behavior, now that their active time is finished. 

Stede is sitting against one of the trees, Ed’s head in his lap, working his fingers through the curls, rubbing lightly against his scalp. Every so often he feels Ed tense against him, his hands tightening on Stede’s outfit. Each time, he leans down and kisses the side of Ed’s head. “It’s ok, none of that was real. I’m safe. You’re safe.”

It’s clear that Ed is still trying to process that what he experienced was all an illusion, some sort of voice mimicry that was fed to the jabberjay mutts. He knows that Ed knows it wasn’t real. But knowing that doesn’t take away the trauma of listening to it for an hour. It’s just going to take some time. Still, he says, “I know.”

“Course it wasn’t real,” Jim comments. “The shit that would go down if they did anything to your mom.”

Rachel, tending to a campfire next to them, chuckles. “There would be riots in the damn Capitol.”

Ed digs further into Stede’s chest, shaking with the effort of crying. “I’m sorry.”

Stede smooths back his hair. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“I just wanna go home,” Ed hiccups. “I want my mom.”

“I know.” 

Jim, clearly fed up with everything, throws their knife to the side and stands up, arms outstretched beside them. “You getting good TV, Badminton?!” they yell to the sky. “There’s a special place in hell waiting just for you, pinche pendejo!”

Everyone is silent for a time, staring at them, all in silent agreement with everything they said, but surprised at the open expression of their hatred. Jim looks around at the group, their chest heaving. “They can’t do anything to me, can’t kill anyone to intimidate me.” Jim shrugs. “There’s no one left that loves me.” 

Stede doesn’t miss how Oluwande reacts to that, grimacing and looking down, coiling and uncoiling a big copper wire spool he’s pulled out of his pack, Zheng having sat up at Jim’s outburst.

There’s a sudden rustling in the distance, through the trees just out of sight. Sam stands up, cocking his crossbow. “The fuck was that?”

“Could just be an animal,” Zheng supplies in a flat voice. 

“We haven’t seen anything more than a gecko in this forest for the past two days.”

Everyone is on alert now, reaching for weapons. Ed sniffs, wipes his eyes on Stede’s clothes, and pushes to his feet, reaching a hand down for Stede. Compared to the rest of the group, Stede is light on weapons, with just a dagger. Wordlessly, Ed hands him the machete, drawing out his own sword. The forest is quiet around them, eerily quiet now, and it feels like Stede is missing something obvious.

All at once he realizes it. “Buttons,” he gasps, and everyone looks at him. “I don’t hear Buttons anymore.”

“Fuck,” Sam mutters as realization sweeps over the group. 

“He was over here, last I heard,” Stede says, pointing. The group moves as one, passing through the brush as quietly as a group as large as theirs can. The air is thick with tension, weapons at the ready, eyes scanning the forest. Stede desperately hopes that Buttons just wandered out of hearing range, that he’s fine, lost in his own world as he seems to be most of the time. 

The hope doesn’t last long. 

A cannon rings out just as they come across the body and Stede covers his mouth, finding himself feeling feint. He stumbles and feels Ed’s arm around him, steadying him.

“Fucking Ned Low,” Jim breathes, gripping their knife tighter. 

It’s unmistakeably Low’s work, though thankfully not as gruesome as some of his “kills” had been, the ones Stede’s seen from Low’s Games. Still, the cut patterns are the same. Less intricate, but still obviously his. 

“Sick fuck,” Rachel breathes. Her tone changes as she follows the trail of dripping blood to a thicket of trees. “Oh, god.”

The bushes are splashed with it, the ground below them coated in a thick layer. There’s no way it’s all Buttons’ blood, who the fuck knows where it all came from, but it tinges the air with the smell of iron, sharp in Stede’s nose. Stede feels a lurch in his stomach and he forces it back down.

The blood on the ground is a sign, an invitation. It’s been poured out in the clear shape of an arrow, pointing their way. 

“It’s a trap,” Sam says immediately.

“Well, yeah, anyone can see that,” Zheng says. Her voice lacks the usual sardonic attitude, making her sound flat and tired.

“It’s my father,” Stede says, knowing as soon as he says it that its true. “He’s trying to lure me out, so he can…” Ed squeezes his shoulder as Stede’s voice trails off. 

“Well, fuck that.” Jim scoffs, rolling their eyes. “We’re not doing that.”

“We have to.”

All eyes turn to him, varying levels of shock, anger, and disbelief reflected back at him. Ed grips his shoulder, looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “Babe—”

“We have to follow them, and take them down,” Stede says, voice firm. He locks eyes with everyone in the group, landing on Ed last. “He wants me gone, and either we go to him and finish him off, or he and Ned fucking Low pick us off one by one. And I don’t want that. No one…no one else is going to die because I won’t face my own father.”

Ed’s eyes are fearful as he stares at Stede, taking in the determined set of his jaw, his steely eyes. “You’re sure about this?”

Stede nods, relieved that Ed, at least, understands. “There are seven of us and two of them. We’ve got numbers on our side.” He turns to the rest of the group. “Unless you’d rather not come. I won’t force anyone—”

“Bonnet,” Zheng interrupts, rolling her eyes. “We’re coming, so just save it.”

-

They move through the forest cautiously, grouped up so that no one is walking alone. Ned Low has left a trail of blood for them to follow, smeared on leaves and branches or dripped into a pool on the ground. He only has at most a five minute head start, but they don’t seem to be gaining ground on him. Unless, of course, this is a prelaid trail, set up before he killed Buttons, and he’s taken an alternate route back, which is a possibility. He has them trailing through what Stede estimates to be close to the center of the ring of wedges. With the small scale of the arena, it doesn’t take long for them to cross over the edge of the jabberjay wedge and into whatever is in the lower southwest wedge. 

Stede has periodically been climbing up trees to scope out the path ahead. He drops from his most recent check, announcing, “Looks like we might be heading to a pretty big clearing with a small lake. If a showdown is going to happen, that would be the spot for it.” Stede scowls, voice turning sour. “Knowing my father, he’s picked somewhere the cameras will be able to get a perfect view.”

“We’ll go ahead,” Jim says, in their little group with Olu and Zheng. “Make sure the area is clear.”

“We’ll be behind you. Good luck.”

They nod and start ahead, following the bloody trail. 

“How much time do we give them?” Rachel asks. “We don’t want them getting attacked.”

“A few minutes, maybe five,” Stede says.” That should be enough.”

It’s based on nothing but intuition really, but it feels right. That gives the group enough time to traipse through the forest and maybe come back to report what they find. Of course, it’ll be a completely different situation if they hear three cannon shots, but Stede’s feeling optimistic about their odds against his father and Ned. 

They give the three a few minutes lead, the seconds ticking by agonizingly, and then follow slowly, not making any sort of significant ground, but enough to keep moving. Stede stays in the center of the group, flanked by Ed next to him and Sam in front leading, with Rachel bringing up the rear. 

There’s a strange energy in the air. Something’s coming, Stede can feel it. The atmosphere has changed, thickened somehow. Heavy. There must be rain coming. Ed squeezes his hand tighter. He must be able to feel it too.

A rustle ahead of them signals the return of Jim, Olu, and Zheng. “No signs of anyone around right now, but there’s clear evidence that there’s been some kind of fighting there. Blood spatter, torn up grass, a fuckton of messy footprints around the edge of the lake.”

“I don’t like it,” Zheng adds, her face grim. “It’s too quiet. No animal sounds.”

“Obviously they have some kind of plan,” Sam says. “Maybe we should fall back a bit, wait until they get impatient and then—”

The whiz of an arrow shoots by, close enough that Stede feels the breeze it gives off, almost a momentary relief from the unbearable heat. Behind him, Rachel lets out a sharp cry as she stumbles, quickly caught by Sam. There’s an arrow sticking out of her shoulder, her right shoulder, thankfully, Stede immediately notes, and far enough to the side that there’s no danger of it piercing her lung. 

“Rachel, fuck, are you—”

“I’m fine,” she bites out, gritting her teeth. “Hurts like fuck, but I’m fine.”

A second arrow hits a tree behind them, narrowly missing Olu. “Malditos bastardos,” they yell. They let one of their knives fly and it hits its mark, judging by the scream that echoes from the clearing. “I’ll fucking kill them! No one goes after my family!” In a vengeful fury, they race out of the trees, Zheng following close behind them. 

“Rachel…” Sam says hesitantly, the desire to stay with her obviously warring with his desire to go after the people who hurt her. 

“Go!” Rachel yells, waving him off. “I’ll be fine, at least for the time it takes for you guys to take care of them.”

“I’ve got her,” Stede adds, slipping to her side. “I probably know the most about first aid here anyway and I’m not much use in a fight like this.”

With one last look to Rachel, Sam nods before rushing out of the bushes, following Jim and Zheng to join the fighting. Oluwande, surprisingly, has gone too, though Stede supposes he probably has a few tricks up his sleeve for how to keep the tides in their favor. 

Stede helps Rachel to the ground, digging through the packs to find their first aid kit. It’s surprisingly well-stocked, Capitol-grade medication and supplies inside. Stede grabs what he needs and directs Rachel to sit up, beckoning for Ed to come over.

“Ed, I’m going to need your help for just a second before you join the others.” Stede feels his body heat by his side, the familiar press of his hand against his shoulder. Stede shifts around behind Rachel. “Hold on to the arrow shaft,” he tells Ed, “I’m going to break off the tip.” To Rachel, he says, “Sorry, this is gonna really fucking suck.”

She shakes her head, grabbing the leather sheath of her dagger to bite down on. “Just do it.”

Stede catches Ed’s eyes over Rachel’s shoulder. He gives Stede a grim nod. “Okay. One, two…” Stede snaps the shaft before three and Rachel lets out a muffled scream. Stede tosses the arrowhead to the side, helping Ed guide the shaft back out. “All right?” Stede asks Rachel once it’s out and she nods, letting the leather drop from her mouth. “Okay, I’m going to clean it and get it all fixed up.” Stede turns back to Ed, who’s watching him with wide eyes. “You should go help. The more of us there are, the better this will go.”

Ed looks for a moment like he’s going to argue, like he doesn’t want to leave, but then he nods. “Stede,” he says, gripping Stede’s shoulder. “Your dad…”

Stede almost smiles at the concern in Ed’s voice. He knows exactly what Ed’s getting at, how much there is in his words. Because for all of the things that his father has done, has said, has made him believe about himself, he’s still his father, and Ed knows better than anyone else the complicated feelings that come with that. But Stede knows the pain of his own childhood, the constant beratement, never good enough or strong enough or tough enough, and, last year, what seems like lifetimes ago now, his father’s voice loud enough to be heard from another train compartment, saying without a hint of guilt or shame that he doesn’t care whether Stede lives or dies. 

“Ed.” He takes a moment, a bandage pressed to Rachel’s wound, to give Ed his momentary full attention. “I know. Whatever you need to do.”

Ed nods and then swoops in to give Stede a brief but mind-numbing kiss. Stede can’t help but feel a bit dazed after it, as he watches Ed pick up his sword and bow and head toward the sounds of fighting. 

Rachel makes a retching sound and he turns back to her, suddenly worried that her wound is worse than he thought. “Shit, are you okay? Is it the pain?”

“No,” she hisses between gritted teeth. “From how…fucking disgusting you two are,” she finally manages, and then breaks into a grin when Stede groans.

“Yeah, okay, you’re fine,” he says, getting to work on the arrow wounds. 

It’s only a matter of a few minutes to fix her up with the stuff the Capitol’s supplied them with. Before they know it, Rachel’s wounds have been disinfected, sealed up with a weird gel that’s supposed to stop bleeding and promote healing, and bandaged. They grab their weapons and head out to the clearing to join the rest of their group.

The fighting seems to be nearly over. Jim is bleeding from a cut to their upper arm, but it looks fairly superficial, and Sam is limping but otherwise seems fine. There’s a body on the ground and it’s none of their people, thank god, but it’s also not Ned Low or Edward Bonnet. Stede doesn’t recognize who it is until he sees Zheng, still engaged with Antoinette from District 3, of all people. The body must be her brother, Gabriel.

A flash of silver hair retreating to the other side of the clearing brings Stede’s focus to Ned Low, who seems to be fleeing from Ed. Low is bleeding profusely from his abdomen, clutching at his side. There’s no sign of Stede’s father anywhere that he can see, and that more than the unexpected presence of the District 3 candidates, more than Ned Low having lured them here, sets Stede on edge. 

He sees Low reaching for the quiver on his back, bow already in hand, and he seems to realize before anyone else that whatever he’s about to do is going to set off the real plan. Stede yells a word of warning and grabs Sam’s discarded crossbow. He levels a shot at Low just as Ed looks back and immediately knows to move out of the way. 

Low isn’t watching them at all. He instead has an arrow trained on the water of the lake and Stede really doesn’t want to find out what Low is about to wake up in there. He pulls the trigger, but he’s only just too late. By the time Stede’s arrow pierces Low in the chest—left side this time, a very good chance it’s hit him somewhere he won’t recover from—the surface of the water is already stirring from the arrow that had just sliced through it. 

“The water!” Stede screams as the surface almost seems to boil, churning with whatever horrible mutts the gamemakers have thought up this time. “Get away from the water!”

Ed is much too close for Stede’s liking, and Stede is relieved when he starts back towards the group. Zheng, however, still fighting Antoinette, is right on the edge of the lake, and hadn’t seemed to notice anything amiss until she hears Stede’s voice. She takes one look at the water behind Antoinette and stumbles away. 

Antoinette laughs, her teeth starkly white against the contrast of the blood pouring down her face from a large cut on her forehead. “Yeah, back away. You know you’re no match for m—”

Her voice cuts into a scream as something shoots out of the water and wraps around her waist. It lifts her into the air as if she were weightless before pulling her under. Everything seems to freeze for a long moment, tension thick in the air, as everyone waits, not sure what’s coming next. It seems to go on forever, their entire group holding their collective breaths, before a huge creature bursts through the surface, showering them with water, its many limbs writhing in the air at whatever has dared to disturb it. 

“Fucking lord above,” Stede hears Rachel breathe behind him, her voice laced with equal parts horror and wonder. 

The kraken—because it can only be one thing, something Stede has only read descriptions and pictures of in old books—seems to be refocusing itself, not quite as much thrashing. It turns its eyes to them, searching for its next target, and it lands on Ed, who has started to back away. Zheng had stumbled back, tripping when the first tentacle appeared, and has managed to scoot herself back far enough that she’s rejoined the group. But Ed is standing out there, alone. An easy target. 

Stede screams for him just as the kraken makes its move. It whips a tentacle at him and Stede surges forward, only to be caught by Sam’s strong arms. “Don’t get yourself killed just to save him. Let us take care of it.” Stede fights against Sam’s firm grip, his entire being focused on Ed, back squared up as he slashes at the tentacles that come at him as best he can. And, indeed, he sees Jim running into the fray, a knife thrown right to one of the kraken’s great eyes. Rachel is heading there too, grimacing through the clear pain in her chest as she shoots arrow after arrow into the mass of the creature. “You have the baby to think of.”

Baby? What—? Stede remembers in an instant that he’s supposed to be pregnant. He stills, nodding. “Okay, okay. Right.” He presses a hand to his stomach, rubbing, the same way he’s seen other pregnant people do. 

Sam lets go, handing his crossbow back over to Stede. “Stay safe.” His voice lowers. “You’re too important to die in here.”

“What—?” Sam is off and running before Stede can even finish asking what that’s supposed to mean. He has the machete Stede has been using on and off tight in his grip. 

Stede watches as his allies band together to fight the giant creature. Zheng is hacking at a thick tentacle that has wound its way around Ed’s torso, Jim methodically throwing knives into the kraken’s weak spots. Rachel and Sam have joined up to wade into the water, their target the solid body itself. Even Oluwande is involved, though what he’s doing with that wire, Stede has no idea. 

He hefts the crossbow up again, aiming for the kraken’s eyes. He may not be allowed to join the fight directly, but he can help from the sidelines. He lets his shot fly, feeling a sense of pride when the arrow actually hits its mark. It’s shortlived, as someone grabs him from behind. A thick arm crooks around his throat, cutting off his air, and Stede scrabbles for it, sinking his nails into the skin.

Behind him, he hears a familiar laugh and his fear ratchets up. He tries to scream, but only a croak comes out with his air supply cut off. He fights, but there’s no use. He’s always been bigger, so much stronger. 

He can feel himself being dragged away, arm still tight around his neck as his vision goes fuzzy. “Come on, boy. Time for a little father-son chat.”

-

This thing, whatever it is, is fucking massive. Bigger than any animal Ed’s ever seen, let alone a sea creature. Ed is stricken by the being, far larger than any mutt the Capitol’s ever used by a long shot. He watches as more of its terrible body rises out of the water, like some beast from legend. The lighting illuminates its body—light purple in hue, with tinges of grey, it seems—with tentacles the size of Ed’s own body. He stands there, dumbfounded for a moment, until Jim throws themself at him, knocking Ed out of the way before another tentacle grabs him, “Are you insane?!” they yell. “Get a weapon and fight!”

He shakes himself back to lucidity and remembers where he is. Fuck, he does need a weapon. When the first tentacle had grabbed him, he’d dropped his sword, frozen in fear and shock. The tentacle had dropped Ed closer to the water when Zheng hacked it off, and closest to Ed right now is a spear, long and silver in color. It must’ve been one of those weird sibling fuckers’ weapons. He grabs it and scrambles to his feet. The rain is pelting down, the wind whipping his hair around and making it so he can barely see anything. It’s pitch dark in the arena, dark already from the descent of night made even darker by the storm clouds that had come from nowhere. Ed has to give it to the gamemakers, it’s atmospheric as fuck. The perfect accompaniment to a fight like this.

He joins the frey with his allies, a confusion of limbs and bodies made even worse with the rain pelting them. He whacks and stabs at the creature as it tries to hit him and his allies. He dodges as another tentacle comes at him, trying to wrap around him. He strikes it with a grunt of effort, digging the spear in deep as the thing screetches. On his left, Sam slices another tentacle clean through. Jim is still hurling knives—their supply apparently endless—as they dodge tentacles, so graceful even in the slick mud they almost look like they’re dancing. 

The quick assessment makes one thing clear: trying to take the monster out from afar isn’t going to work. Ed yanks the spear free, stabbing at the others that try to grab him, looking for an opening. One manages to wrap around his ankle and he slips but shakes it off and is on his feet again in an instant. Shaking the hair out of his face, he shouts and stabs into the kraken, lighting illuminating the arena with a loud boom. 

The creature hesitates and Ed sees his chance. The spear in a firm grip at his side, he runs into the water, ignoring the yells for him to stop. A tentacle is peaking out, like the rock walls on the lagoon that lead to the Cornucopia. It’s easy enough for Ed to climb on top and run towards the head. He lunges with the spear, driving it deep into the beast’s head through its eye with a shout that pierces through the cacophony. He puts his entire body into it, using his weight to push the spear even deeper. The creature lets out a horrific shriek, tentacles whipping through the air. All too soon, though, it grows weak, slumping, tentacles dropping to the water as its life leaves its body. It shudders one last time, all of its countless limbs going stiff, and then finally…nothing. 

Ed lets go of the spear and slips off the creature’s body into the water. He’s covered in black blood, or ink maybe, or some combination of both. It washes away as he heads to the shore, pulling himself up onto the ground, dropping to his knees with exhaustion. 

It’s finished. Dead, slain, and he gave the cameras quite the show.

Ed heaves, trying to get the air back in his lungs, and looks back at his comrades by him on the beach. Everyone is in a similar state, panting, bent over, tending to wounds. There’s a glaring absence among the group, though, and Ed lurches to his feet, panic gripping him like nothing he’s felt before. He stumbles and Zheng catches him, telling him to slow down.

“Stede!” he yells, waving her off. “Where’s Stede?”

-

There are black spots in Stede’s eyes by the time Stede is shoved against a tree and he blinks furiously to keep them away, to stay awake. The last thing he saw was Ed scrambling for the nearest weapon to fight off the kraken as Stede was dragged away. He can still hear the kraken’s screeches only a few hundred feet away, and the sounds of the love of his life and his allies fighting. 

Edward Bonnet tightens his hand around Stede’s throat, slamming him back. His head hits the bark and the black spots are back, his ears ringing. He laughs humorlessly, eyes cold as he stares down at his son. “Do you have any idea just how long I’ve waited for this? I should be given a medal for how I’ve held back, god knows how easy it would’ve been. But the Capitol would’ve had my head if I took out their fresh new celebrity baby.”

Stede’s fingers scramble at his father’s hands, digging his nails in as deeply as he can. His father doesn’t even wince. Tears spring to Stede’s eyes and his voice is shaking when he finally asks the question that has been haunting him all his life. “Why?” he chokes out. He’s nearly being held up off the ground, his feet on tiptoes, desperate to give him some relief from the pressure on his throat. His father’s fingers loosen slightly in what Stede knows is some kind of twisted pity, allowing him this last opportunity to speak. Stede takes the opportunity to gulp in air before continuing, “Why do you hate me so much? Why—what did I do?”  

“Nothing,” he says, and it hits Stede like a punch to the stomach. Father laughs, shaking his head. “Everything. You existed.” 

He’s already got tears in his eyes as he fights for breath, and a fresh wave hits, streaming down his cheeks. “I’m that much of a disappointment to you? My entire life, you…” He chokes, breaking into a cough, feet scrambling to keep him upright. “Why would you have a child if you were only going to hate them? Why even bring life into this world if you wouldn’t do everything you could for them?”

His father actually laughs, a full belly laugh, as if Stede’s just told him the funniest joke of all time. He leans in, his nose almost touching Stede’s. “Do you think I wanted you?! God, you’re fucking dense.” He shakes his head, just like he always has when Stede’s disappointed him, never good enough, never fast enough or strong enough or smart enough. Just…never enough. “I was a Quarter Quell Victor, I fucking beat back 47 other people, the Capitol wanted me to have you.”

Stede blinks several times, struggling to comprehend exactly what his father is telling him. “Wh—“

“Yeah, got treated like fucking royalty when you came. The Victor with the most kills in history, having a baby? Why the fuck else do you think they gave us so much?” The nice house… the monthly payments… the gifts and medicine and tech they had, so much more than what Stede has seen other Victors in other Districts have… Father grins as comprehension dawns in Stede’s mind. “Yeah. Too bad there wasn’t another Victor in the District I could have had a kid with. They shower those fuckers with everything they could ever want.”

Stede chokes out a sob. Everything he’s ever thought about himself, about his worthlessness, about the hatred he always knew his father had for him… All of it is true. “You used me, you—you used your child for your own gain.”

“Yeah. Bet they would’ve given you and your little boyfriend a nice check for that little surprise you sprung on them.” He pokes at Stede’s stomach. “If I’m honest, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest. I’m only surprised it took so long to happen.”

Stede feels a simmering rage for his child—a child that doesn’t even exist. “Our baby isn’t a pawn. I know you find that hard to believe.”

“Everyone is a pawn,” Father shoots back. “But it won’t be anything soon enough.” His hand closes tighter and tighter around Stede’s throat, the momentary reprieve over. His father is so strong, clenching around his throat, cutting off all air. He chokes, clawing at his father’s hulking hand, none of the effort going to use. The black spots are back, blanking out his vision as he struggles for air, tries to scratch his father, tries to squirm and kick, but Father is relentless, and Stede knows all too well that he’s never shied from taking a life. He can feel his body grow weak, the strength leaving his limbs as everything begins to fade to black. Father’s breath is hot on his cheek as he whispers what Stede knows will be the last words he ever hears. “The Stede Bonnet reign of terror comes to a close—”

A wet squelch, and a spray of hot blood on his face. There’s a gurgling choke and then suddenly—air. Father’s hand loosens and Stede gasps in a breath, oxygen flooding his body, rushing to his brain, making him lightheaded. He blinks open his eyes, forcefully trying to clear the spots.

Father is still leaning into him, but his expression is one of surprise. He holds Stede’s gaze for a long moment, and then Stede looks down. The shining blade of a Capitol sword sticks out through his chest, streaked with blood. He tries to say something, but there’s only another gurgle, a bubble of blood hanging from his lips before he slumps to the side, freeing Stede from his grasp and revealing the attacker.

A bolt of lighting illuminates him, wet black hair whipping about in the wind, his chest heaving, covered in fresh blood. A cannon booms in the distance.

“Ed,” Stede chokes out. He slumps further down the tree, unable to hold himself up. He grasps at his throat, feeling woozy. Ed drops to his side, shoving Father’s body away. For a moment Stede blinks and he swears he sees three Eds in front of him, hazy and bending over him, terror and concern clear on his face. Stede tips forward towards the three Eds, but only one catches him, rubs his back as Stede coughs.

“Stede.” A kiss pressed to the crown of his head. “Stede, babe, stay with me.” 

Stede takes a few moments to just breathe, until his head starts feeling less floaty, and he can actually feel Ed’s body solid against his, holding him up. He pulls back slightly so he can see Ed’s face, the tears shining in his eyes, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, his cheeks. 

“You did it,” Stede says and his voice barely comes out at all. It’s hoarse, and small, and Ed squeezes his eyes shut for a moment when he hears. Stede cups his cheek, pushing his hair back, behind his ear. “Thank you.”

Ed smiles, frames Stede’s face in his hands. “The least I could do really,” he says, half a joke, half completely serious, and Stede huffs out a hoarse laugh.

Relief is quickly replacing the fear on Ed’s face, his brown eyes crinkling as he smiles and sighs. Stede can feel the tension leaving his shoulders. He dips down and captures Stede’s lips in a kiss, somehow simultaneously desperate and sweet, holding him up. Stede gasps for air as he pulls away, coughing and rubbing at his sore neck. “Sorry,” Ed whispers, and Stede shakes his head. 

Ed holds his forehead to Stede’s, hands cradling his cheeks like Stede is the most precious thing he’s ever held. He can feel Ed’s tears on his cheeks. “Please stay with me.” His breath hitches as he breathes out, “I love you.”

The words rush over him like a refreshing breeze, fill up his chest with warmth. “You,” Stede chokes, and tries to laugh. “You finally said it.”

Ed laughs as tears stream down his face. He pulls Stede into his chest, nose to his head, and Stede can hear him breathing in deeply. Stede has a brief moment of worry about smelling bad, about his hair not having its normal vanilla citrus scent that Ed loves so much, but Ed just squeezes him tighter, and Stede is past caring.

“I was a fucking idiot,” Ed says, shaking his head.

“No, you—”

“Yeah, I was.” Ed pulls him closer, leans back against the tree, Stede practically in his lap. “I always loved you, I always will. I was just…mad.”

“I know.”

“But that’s fucking stupid, because what if you had died? Not just now, not just in this fucking arena, but back home? What if you had fucking, I don’t know, gotten crushed by a piano or eaten by a tiger or something, and you would have never known?”

Stede lets a small breath of air out, nearly a laugh. “Not many tigers or even pianos in 12, thankfully.”

“Still. You should know.” Ed pulls back just enough to look into Stede’s eyes, their noses brushing. “You should always know.”

“I do,” Stede assures him. “I know.”

It’s only a few moments later that they’re both helping each other to their feet, not wanting to sit around Stede’s father’s body any longer. Stede protests that he can walk just fine when Ed offers to carry him, worried about his breathing and the baby—Stede is careful to remind him about the fake baby—but Ed insists on at least helping him along, an arm slung around Stede’s back as Stede leans on him. And honestly, Stede does still feel a bit weak, so the extra steadiness is welcome. 

The rest of their allies have been lingering just out of sight, after making sure they were both safe, giving them a moment of peace. They meet back up, and when Stede informs them that Edward Bonnet is dead in a matter-of-fact voice, there’s only a few exchanged worried glances, and everyone seems to move on. The group is quiet as they begin to head north again, knowing that those wedges will be safe for the rest of the night and into the next day. They find a place to settle in, setting up watches, passing out water and food.

Later, as Stede lets himself be wrapped up once again in Ed’s arms, they’ll recount to each other what happened. Ed will tell Stede about fighting the kraken, eventually telling Stede about landing the killing blow, to which Stede will swell with pride. Stede will tell Ed in soft, fragile whispers about everything his father said to him, about how his worst fears had been confirmed. They’ll exchange I love yous and kisses and gentle reassurances until they both drift off to sleep.

“My god, that was…”

“I couldn’t agree more, Lucius, I don’t think we’ve had a day end that dramatic in years.”

“I mean, what he said, was that all true?”

“No way to know for sure, he has lied in the past, I wouldn’t trust anything that came out of his mouth.”

“Right, well—ahem—I can say for certain, the battle with the kraken mutt was something none of us will forget anytime—What? Excuse me, I’m getting a message—”

“Of course. After that shocking display, that leaves only eleven tributes left. Edward Teach and Zheng Yi Sao of District 1, Sam Bellamy and Christina Anna Skytte of District 2, Oluwande Boodhari of District 5, William Kidd and Charlotte de Berry of District 6, Grace O’Malley of District 7, Rachel Wall of District 8, Jim Jimenez of District 11, and Stede Bonnet of District 12. It’s anyone’s game so far, but we’ve seen our main group of seven be pretty knocked around by this point, whereas District 6 is on the move and coming towards them fast, and the other two have been lying low. Your thoughts, Lucius?”

“...”
“L-Lucius?”

“...I’m sorry everyone, but I’ve been called away on a personal matter. Good luck to all of you. Oh, and, uh— ow, shit, yeah, I’m going, I’m going—um, may the odds be ever in their favor or whatever.”

“Wait, was that…? Right, right, well—uh—I guess that leaves me. Lucius has left the broadcast room, don’t know when he’ll be back, but I’ll still be here bright and early tomorrow morning for day three of the 75th Hunger Games and third Quarter Quell. Good night, Panem.”

Chapter Text

The group gives Ed and Stede more space than usual that night, and the couple appreciates the thought. After telling them what had happened, they thought it best to leave the two to themselves for the night (as much as they can leave them to themselves, needing to stand guard over them). They don’t say much to each other. Stede’s throat still hurts and his voice is shot, and Ed can’t get the image out of his head. Two bodies he stood over that night, two monsters, the blood of them still caked under his nails.

Ed honestly isn’t surprised by any of the things Stede’s father told him. The unspoken deal that the Capitol seems to have with Victors, to provide them children for the entertainment of society. As if they were prized race horses to stud. Really, Ed’s not sure what would surprise him anymore. If the president is okay with putting children up for slaughter on live television for the entire country to see, then he’s not above a bit of eugenics.

They watch the fake night sky go by as they lay together. Artificial as it is, it’s populated by thousands of stars, flickering and shooting across the sky like the ones they’d watch in 12. Ed strokes a finger up and down Stede’s arm, still trying to stop shaking after what he did. The second person he’s ever killed. Stede’s own father. His fucking boyfriend’s father.

“It’s surreal,” Stede says out of nowhere.

Ed startles out of his thoughts, finger pausing its light movement over Stede’s arm. “What?”

“He’s just— dead, like that.” He snaps to make the point. “He tried to kill me. His child. His only child.” Stede squeezes his eyes shut and Ed feels his heart breaking for Stede. 

He presses his lips to the top of Stede’s head. “It’s better this way,” he says, for Stede’s benefit almost as much for his own.

“I agree, but…I feel weird though. I’m sad he’s dead, but—but I feel…”

“Happy?” Ed supplies.

“Yeah,” Stede admits on a quiet breath. 

“Never apologize for that.” Stede manages a laugh through wheezing breaths. Ed thinks back to his own father’s death, the fear and guilt that swirled inside him after pushing his father, but also the relief. The fucking way his entire body seemed to let go of a tension he wasn’t even aware he was carrying, knowing he would never have to hear his father screaming at his mother again, never have to see him hurt her, them. “You’re alive, he’s dead. You just gotta keep living, babe, for if not now, when?”

While they lay there, the rest of their group is circled together. They’ve been mostly quiet after the events of the day, but now Ed can hear voices lifting as they begin to broach the subject of what comes next. Ed listens as they shoot ideas back and forth. They’re going to have to leave soon, he knows, before it’s just their group left. He doesn’t want to be around when they all turn on each other, their fragile alliance broken by the necessity of survival. 

Oluwande has been mostly quiet, but when the discussion falls into a lull, he speaks up, outlining a plan he must have been cooking up since the start: to take the massive coil of copper wire, wait until the tidal wave hits, then wrap it around the lighthouse, and set the other end in the water. That way, when the noon lightning hits the building, anyone in contact with the water or on the beach will immediately be hit with a fatal dose of electricity. It’s an out there plan for sure, but it might just get rid of the last few remaining people not on their side. 

After that, well…

“I can’t go on without you,” Stede says in a small voice, burying his face in Ed’s chest. “I don’t have anyone.”

Ed wraps his arms around him, squeezing him. “No, come on, you have Jackie and your mom and—”

“No, Ed,” he interrupts, lifting his head, “I have no one. My fucking mom…? She’s nothing, she’s not… She doesn’t care about me.” He laughs darkly. “She’s not even going to talk to me, what with how embarrassing it was for her husband to die like that. Airing all the family shit out for the entire nation to hear.” He shakes his head. “No. You’re my family, you’re everything to me; if I don’t have you, I have nothing.”

Ed squeezes his eyes shut, clutching Stede closer. He’s right. Ed knows he’s right. “I don’t want to live without you either. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.”

Leaves crunch underfoot as someone makes their way towards them. They look over as Oluwande sits next to them, making sure to give the pair their space. “Hey guys.” He gives them a tight smile. “So, the plan is to hike over to the lighthouse in the morning after the wave and set everything up.”

“You need a lookout?” Ed asks, making to sit up.

“No,” he says quickly. He holds his hand out to signal Ed not to move, to not worry about it. “No, Sam and Rachel called first watch, and Jim and I are doing second.”

“What about Zheng?”

He looks back to the group, Zheng is still off to the side, no doubt still thinking about the jabberjay’s imitation of her children and husband’s voices. Olu shakes his head. “We’re giving her time.” He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out some beef sticks and a few pieces of dried fruit, as well as a full water bottle. “Both of you eat and drink something before bed.”

They both take swigs from the water bottle and gnaw on some of the jerky to appease Olu, even if both their appetites are shot. He leaves them after a stretch of awkward silence. 

Stede curls in closer to Ed and pulls the thermal blanket tighter over them. “I forgive you, for everything,” he says, cupping Ed’s ear and whispering so the cameras don’t hear. “I don’t want you to keep thinking about it. We’ve moved on. I love you.”

Ed does the same with Stede, whispering in as quiet a voice he can manage, “Thank you. I don’t want to say I don’t deserve it, cause you’ll say the opposite. But—but really, thank you.” He moves his hand to cup Stede’s cheek, covered in three days worth of stubble and drying blood. Ed’s hand shakes at the sight of it, but Stede’s hand covers it. His thumb sweeps over the back  of Ed’s hand, reassuring him that he’s okay. “We should, uh, we should try to sleep.”

-

They wait on the edge of the western wedge until the wave comes at its scheduled time. It smashes through the trees, surging toward the beach exactly the way it did yesterday, and exactly as it did yesterday, it hits those invisible walls, stopping the raging current, then splashes over the edges of the paths around the Cornucopia. One cannon shot fires. As soon as it’s clear, they set off. It’s a bit of a trek to get where they need to go. The gamemakers seem to have made the area around the lighthouse a bit more treacherous to ward away any tributes that might try to tamper with it: rockier, studded through with hidden roots and holes, sections of ground that shift under their feet on the edge of steep hills. Nevertheless, they make it there, and Oluwande deems it perfect.

He hits a loose panel, and coils of metal and wire reveal themselves. “It’s a lightning rod,” he says as he digs through the mechanisms. “A perfect conductor.”

“Is it enough?” Sam asks.

“Oh yeah, it’s enough, more than,” he says, sounding slightly sinister. Ed doesn’t know shit about electricity compared to Olu, but he does know that a lot of it concentrated in a single area… not good. Could blow up the whole damn arena if they do it wrong.

Olu makes quick work with the wire, twisting it around the indoor structure until he deems it enough. He hands the coil off to Sam. “I want you, Rachel, Ed, and Stede to take that down to the beach. Cover him on all sides,” he instructs the other three. “We can’t have that thing getting taken or damaged.”

“What are you three doing?” Rachel asks. “Kind of just sprung that on us.”

“We’re guarding the lighthouse,” Jim says matter of factly, “and we’ll be your lookout from above.”

“You’re more powerful in numbers too,” Zheng adds. She looks way better than she did last night. Some color has returned to her face, and her eyes look less haunted than they did, clear-headed. “We still have William and Charlotte to worry about, and four can easily overpower two.”

“Plus the tribute from 7 and the other one from 2,” Jim says. “Who the fuck knows where they are.”

It’s as good of an explanation as any. Stede had somehow completely forgotten about the fact that there are still other tributes out there. Being in such a large group, they’ve been in such a safe bubble, and they killed the four that really mattered.

The foursome starts off towards the beach, having to hike their way through the winding jungle. It’s changed, at least this part of it. It’s like something out of a story book, with hanging vines, large mushrooms and flowers, and giant leafy plants dotting the landscape. Stede can almost swear he hears some sort of monkey or puma, but the tinniness of the sound tells him it’s not real, and most likely coming from a hidden speaker. Sam carries on ahead of them, he and Rachel holding the coil between them, and Ed and Stede bringing up the rear, making sure it doesn’t get tangled and keeping an eye out for any attackers. 

They’re walking close together, arms brushing but hands not holding, just in case they need to act quickly. “We’re getting close,” Ed says in a low whisper, out of nowhere.

Stede hums in thought. “To the beach? I don’t know, with the incline, I’d say we’re at least another—”

“No,” Ed says. He hesitates. His fingers brush the back of Stede’s hand. “Close to—close to the end, I mean.”

“Oh.” Stede looks down, his chest constricting. He steps over a thick bunch of vines. “Yeah.”

“I know we’ve agreed on the plan, and believe me I’m still in on it, but I just…” Ed trails off, shaking his head and scratching at his hair. “I don’t know.”

“I get it, believe me, I do.” Stede places a comforting hand on Ed’s arm, squeezing the meat of his bicep. It’s…it’s fucking hard. It’s an impossible choice. Stede knows there’s nothing for him out there if Ed’s gone and he doesn’t want to…to face the future completely alone like that. Knowing that Ed is gone because of him. Because he volunteered, again, just to keep Stede safe. It’s just…not fair. They were supposed to be done with this, supposed to be safe, supposed to be building a life together. And now that’s all gone.

He sniffs, his eyes going slightly blurry as tears pool in them. His head is feeling a little foggy too, like it doesn’t want to think about this. He squeezes his eyes shut, pushing the tears back, and when he opens them again, he almost trips. 

Ed grabs ahold of him, keeps him upright. Stede looks behind him to see what he tripped on, but he can’t see anything. There’s no roots or anything in his path. He shakes it off. There’s the fogginess in his head, starting to go woozy. His legs feel weak all of a sudden. He needs water. Maybe a quick bite to eat. 

“Hey guys,” Stede says to the group. “Why don’t we stop, drink and eat something for a moment.” 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Sam agrees. He sways a bit, shaking his head. “Feel like I’m about to faint.”

“You too?” Ed asks, just before Sam collapses onto the ground. 

Rachel rushes to his side, kneeling over his body and frantically checking him for injury. “Sam? Sam, can you hear my voice?! Speak to me!”

He waves his hand at her, rolling over onto his back. “I’m f-fine Rache, just—just a bit woozy.” His words are starting to slur slightly. “C’mere, lay down, you were up all night.”

They exchange uneasy glances, but Stede is feeling suddenly faint too, so he sits, rather than risk collapsing like Sam. It must be this heat. The humidity is damn near choking. He digs through his bag, blinking dazedly, and passes the water and food rations around. He takes a few nibbles of jerky, a few sips of water, and suddenly finds himself laying on the ground, flat on his back. 

He’s not sure how he got there. He doesn’t remember laying down, but clearly he did. He can feel a body next to him and he looks over to see Ed lying down as well, their arms pushed together. A glance in the other direction shows Sam and Rachel in a similar state. 

Stede sighs, rubbing his hand on the nice soft moss beneath him. It’s comfortable. So comfortable, like the most comfortable bed Stede’s ever been in. 

A flicker of thought stirs in his head. He was supposed to be doing something. They were…going somewhere, weren’t they? Stede honestly can’t remember, and he honestly doesn’t really care.

“Hey, babe,” Ed says next to him. His voice is low, rumbly. Stede turns onto his side to rest his head on Ed’s chest. He loves to feel the vibration in Ed’s chest as he speaks, his low register reverberating through his body. It’s nice, like a cat purring.

“Mmmyeah?” Stede slurs together.

“D’you have th—the— shit fuck what is it— oh! The nightlock!” he finally manages. He snaps his fingers, then taps Stede urgently on the shoulder, like he doesn’t already have Stede’s attention. He always has Stede’s attention. “The berries, that’s what—that’s why I mentioned it earlier.”

“I think so, not using them now though.” For some inexplicable reason, a giggle bubbles out of him at that. Infectious as it is, it makes Ed start laughing too. Stede’s head shakes on Ed’s chest from his laughter, and that makes them giggle even harder.

Stede can hear laughter coming from above them. Rachel and Sam have settled themselves lying in the opposite direction, their heads brushing together. “What’s that about?” Rachel asks through the laugh that sputters out of her.

“Oh shit, I shouldn’t have said that!” Ed gasps. He slaps his hand to his mouth, staring down at Stede with wide eyes.

He looks fucking adorable, and Stede giggles some more. He covers Ed’s hand, curling his fingers into his grip. “Y’see,” Stede starts, “if it’s down to just us, we’re just gonna kill ourselves. Like we were gonna do ‘n the…the last time. What’s the Capitol gonna do about that?”

Sam gasps dramatically. “Does that mean me and Rachel are dead?!”

Stede reaches up blindly, patting around until his hand lands on…on someone’s head. No idea if it’s Sam or Rachel’s, but whoever it is doesn’t seem to mind. He gives them a few comfortable pats. “In that situation, unfortunately.”

Stede hears someone moving around and looks up just in time to see Sam flop back down onto the mossy ground, cooing, “Rachel.”

“What?”

His hand lands on her face, gently, and he wobbles her head around. “ Rachel ,” he says, extending the second syllable out. 

She laughs, pushing his hand off. “What, I’m right here.”

He’s stretched out on his side, looking at her. “You wanna know something that’s like. So funny?” Without waiting for an answer, he continues, “I’ve been in love with you for like years,” he says, drawing out the last word. “And I’ve just been too scared to say.”

Silence hangs between them, nothing but the ambiance of the jungle, until they all burst out laughing.

“Are you serious?!” Rachel cackles.

“Yeaahhhh,” Sam says, and stretches out his arms. “Love you this much.”

“That’s—that’s so crazy, cause I’ll tell you something.” Rachel turns over to face Sam with a heave of her body. It looks like an absolutely monumental task if she feels anything like Stede does right now. “I love you too.” She punctuates her sentence with a boop to Sam’s nose.

“Awwwwww.” Ed gasps suddenly. “We should have a double wedding!” 

There’s a chorus of giddy agreement, until Sam reminds them of the unfortunate truth between halting laughter. “But we’re—we’re all gonna die, remember, silly?”

“Aw, shit, you’re right,” Ed groans. “Booooooooo.”

“Fuck the Capitol!” Stede yells in response. “Yeah I s—I said it, fuck them! What have they ever done for us?!”

Ed hoots out a laugh. “Stede said the fuck word!” he crows. He slaps a sloppy kiss on Stede’s cheek. “It’s so fucking cute when you say shit like that, I fucking love it!” He gives Stede a little shake. “Yeah, fuck them! Hey, you! You fuckers!” He points up to the false sky. “You hear that? Sitting in your fucking…fucking big houses and fancy fucking clothes and that…those cocktails that make you puke cause you’ve got all this fucking food so you can go eat more of it. Fuck you!”

“Fuck you for keeping me away from the love of my life!” Rachel yells out. 

“Fuck you for keeping me away from the love of my life!” Sam shouts in agreement. “And fuck you for using us like we’re your fucking property! Fuck you for using my daughter to control me!”

“And fuck you for all of this! For the way my dad treated me! For the way Ed’s dad treated him! Fuck you for making us desperate enough to play your stupid fucking ‘game.’” It takes an enormous effort to sit up, but Stede feels emboldened by his rage and whatever hazy feeling has overtaken them. “It’s not a game! It’s our lives! And anyone who watches children forced to kill each other for entertainment is fucking sick. It’s evil.” Stede glares up at the false sky, wishing he could look every single Capitol citizen in the eye. “Every single one of you is complicit in the slaughter of children by the dozens.”  

Stede is taken over by the sense of injustice, by the desire to make them hurt, the way he’s hurt. The way Ed has hurt. The way Sam and Rachel and Jim and Zheng and every other person who’s been through this has been hurt. The way any parent has been hurt, having to sit idly by and watch as their child is slaughtered on live television, broadcast across the nation.

He’s shaking, hands trembling. He clenches them into fists, setting his jaw in a firm line. “Well maybe it’s time to know what that’s like. Maybe it’s time for you to watch your children starve as they fight for their life. Maybe we should put your babies in an arena and see if you still want to have watch parties and drink and laugh and bet on who’ll be left in the end.”

His chest is heaving as his final words echo into the jungle around them. Ed, Sam, and Rachel are silent. Stede lays back down, his breath and heart rate slowing as the calm washes over him again. 

Ed is the first to crack, a snort of laughter that he was clearly trying to hold back slipping out. “Jesus fuck, Stede,” he says. He rolls over with a great heave, landing almost entirely on top of Stede. “I love you, you fucking psycho.” He kisses Stede, deeply, the kind of kiss that the cameras definitely want to cut away from but can’t. Tears threaten to overflow down his cheeks, and he seeks out more of Ed to ground himself. He clutches onto him, somehow pressing Ed’s body closer and wrapping tighter around him. 

Stede breaks their kiss, and digs his head into Ed’s throat. “Ed, I want to go home.” He sobs, his chest feeling like the air is being squeezed out of it like a deflating ball. 

“I’m home right now,” Ed whispers into Stede’s hair. 

His head feels impossibly light, like he’s dreaming, but he’s definitely awake. Above him, he can hear the murmur of Sam and Rachel’s voices, though they sound distant, faded. The light around him is dimming, nearly turning completely black, and all Stede can see is Ed’s face looking down at him. 

-

“What the fuck are you guys doing?!” Jim yells, snapping Ed out of this fantastic hazy feeling. 

“Oh heyyy, Jim!” Ed slurs together. “It’s cuddle time.” He tries to move, but can’t seem to. It feels like he’s strapped down on top of Stede. For the first time, he realizes that something seems to be compressing him down, squeezing around his entire body.

A machete lands near them and Stede giggles. “Careful! Wanna keep all my bits, thanks,” he says. He squirms beneath Ed and Ed groans in protest. Squeezed or not, he’s too comfy to move, with his head tucked into Stede’s neck, one leg and one arm thrown across Stede’s body. Ed would like for Stede to keep all his bits too, to be quite honest. Otherwise how will he hold Stede’s hand, if it gets chopped off? How will Stede comb his fingers through Ed’s hair, if he has no fingers? 

Zheng’s voice is there too, yelling. “You dipshits would’ve died if we hadn’t found you! Didn’t you see these?!” As she brings a sword down uncomfortably close to Ed’s shoulder, he finds he suddenly can move a bit. He lifts up onto one arm, staring around in a daze.

In the time that they’ve been lying here, and Ed isn’t sure how long that is, the comfortable mossy ground has been overtaken by vines that seem to have crept upon them. They’ve wound their way over and around their bodies and incrementally tightened, apparently slowly squeezing the life out of the four of them.

“Probably not, since they breathed in the spores too!” Jim adds. That’s when Ed sees that both theirs and Zheng’s mouths and noses are covered by makeshift masks, cut away from the sleeves of their bodysuits. They hack away at more of the vines, determinedly freeing the foursome from where they’d been trapped by the plants. “And they didn’t even get to the beach.”

The beach… Yeah, the beach sounds vaguely familiar. They were supposed to be doing something there, but Ed can’t for the life of him remember what. Because of the spores Jim mentioned, Ed guesses. Is that why he feels so foggy? Did these vines give off some kind of chemical that fucked with their brains?

“Hey.” Rachel sits up with a groan, blinking away the light and holding her head. “We were drugged, okay?”

“Jim, Jim Jim Jim.” Sam flings himself toward Rachel, nearly knocking her back over as he clings to her. “I love her.”

Jim rolls their eyes. “Yeah, I know. You told me after you got drunk at Roach’s Christmas party.” 

Sam looks astounded. “I did?”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t shut up about it, in fact,” they say. They grab Sam’s shoulder and haul him up. “All right, we’ve gotta fucking move. Everyone up.”

There’s a chorus of protest as Zheng and Jim one by one drag everyone up off the ground. Ed drapes himself over Stede. “Awwww, but it was so nice down there. Cozy and comfy and fuzzy. Can’t we just stay here?”

“You were slowly being strangled to death,” Zheng says, deadpan.

“Sure, but we’re probably gonna die anyway.” Ed shrugs, pouting. “At least that way would be pretty chill, actually.”

“No one’s fucking dying on my watch!” Jim snaps. “Now cover your mouths and noses and move.”  

Jim and Zheng corral the group, shepherding them back the way they came. Ed can feel his head clearing the further they go, a combination of the face covering and distance from the spore area. Before they leave, he grabs the sword and crossbow from where they’d been dumped, forgotten, on the ground, sheathing the blade and strapping the bow to his back.

“Christ, my head fucking aches,” Ed says. He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs them with his fingers. 

“Yeah, that’ll be the spores,” Jim remarks. “It’s a special Capitol blend. Lowers inhibitions, slows the nervous system, makes you an easy target.” They look behind them and grimace. “Leftovers from the war. Apparently they’ve decided it would be a good idea to engineer some plants that emit it. Fucking bastarditos.”

“And now we’re on a tight schedule because you guys didn’t manage to get this wire down to the beach,” Zheng adds, sounding irritated. “So if you’re all back to normal, let’s hurry this the fuck up.”

The sun has slipped below the horizon already, much like his and Stede’s final day in the arena last year. The other tributes must be close by, and the Capitol wants a good show to end it all on. This is a quick fucking game, if they’re already steering it towards the finale. What’s it been? Two days and some change?

They’re making quick work of going down the hill and Ed can practically smell the salt air of the beach when a high pitched scream cuts through the air, followed quickly by a cannon shot.

“2,” Sam says, breathless.

“Or 6.”

He shakes his head, “No, that’s 2. I know Anna’s voice anywhere.” 

Zheng grabs the coil and bursts into a run toward the beach. Stede’s hand rips from Ed’s grip as Rachel pulls him along, rushing to follow. “Stede!” Ed shouts, making to follow.

He’s yanked back by an iron grip on his arm. Jim pushes him to the ground and straddles his chest, knees pressing both his arms firmly to the ground. “What the fu—”

“Shh!” There’s the shimmer of a knife in one of their hands and Ed flinches as he waits for Jim to strike. He wasn’t expecting Jim to be the one to take him down, honestly, but he hopes they make it quick. At least if it’s happening like this, Stede doesn’t have to watch. Ed screams in agony as a sharp pain cuts into his right forearm. “Shh, shut the fuck up!” Jim hisses. 

Ed writhes as he feels the tip of the knife digging into his arm. Jim’s focused on their work and it takes Ed a belated moment to realize they’re digging out the tracker the Capitol stuck in him at the start of the Games. He grits his teeth, unable to stop another scream from being pulled from his throat as they succeed, pulling a tiny chip from Ed’s bloody skin. He has the fucking wild hope that they haven’t fucked up any of his tattoos.

Jim covers his mouth with their bloody hand. Ed can taste the sharp bite of copper in his mouth. “Stay down,” Jim whispers urgently.

From the distance, Ed hears Charlotte’s voice calling, “I heard someone.”

For the first time since his interview, Ed hears William’s voice. “2 was nearby, gotta be 1 or 12.”

Charlotte and Williams’ voices grow closer as Jim hovers over Ed, their hand still clapped to Ed’s mouth to stifle his whimpers of pain. Jim leans closer as they approach. “Stay. Down,” they say firmly, giving Ed’s arms one final press with their knees. 

And then they’re up, throwing the knife in Charlotte and William’s direction. It thunks harmlessly on the trunk of a tree and Jim takes off, luring Charlotte and William away from Ed.

“There!” 

“Follow them.” 

Their footsteps follow the crash of Jim through the brush and it’s only seconds before Ed is left there alone, lying in the dirt, only the sounds of the jungle around him. His arm is burning, fucking not unlike the way his leg burned in the last Games. He grits his teeth to keep himself from screaming again. 

He’s got to get up. He has no fucking idea what’s happening here, but Jim just freed him from part of the Capitol’s surveillance and then led two potential attackers away from him. There’s something going on, something that he hasn’t been let in the loop on, and he’s got to find Stede. He’s got to find Stede.

He zips his lips shut as he hears running footsteps again, not sure if it’s Jim returning or Charlotte and William, or someone else. At least not until he hears a hushed voice calling, “Ed? Edward?” Stede. Fuck. Okay, Stede’s found him. They’re going to be fine. “Ed, where’d you go?”

He’s just got to get up, got to call back to him, but he finds his body is frozen. When he tries to yell, his voice can only produce pained groans.

“Ed!”

He hears someone shush him, and then Zheng’s voice. “6 is nearby. We need to keep moving and find Olu.”

“I’m not leaving Ed!” Stede snaps. Ed tries to call out again, but his voice comes out in a croak.

“Ed’s fine, Jim’s with him. Chances are they’re back with Olu anyway. We need to go.”

Branches cracking as their footsteps recede. Silence again. He needs to move. 

He manages to turn onto his stomach and push himself up onto his knees with the non-injured arm. There’s blood pooling out of the cut on his forearm, though it doesn’t seem to be too deep. It’s clotting quickly, the flow of blood slowing. “Stede,” he manages to call. “Stede, I’m here!” There’s no answer. The lighthouse. Zheng said they needed to find Oluwande, so they’ll be heading back to the lighthouse. He scrabbles up to his feet with a wince and starts up the hill. 

The jungle is dark, the light of the moon and stars covered by the thick canopy of trees. He knows the general direction of the lighthouse and he keeps going in that direction, hoping he’s not completely turned around. As long as he keeps going uphill, he should be at least somewhat on the right track.

His foot catches on something and he goes down. He cries out as he lands on his bad arm, curling in on himself for a moment before sitting back up. He looks around to see what tripped him. His fingers find something long and cool and firm. The wire, he realizes. Good. Good. That’ll lead him right to the lighthouse. 

He follows it for a few moments, stumbling here and there as his head struggles to make sense of what’s happening. It’s eerily quiet now. He feels like he must be getting close to the lighthouse, but he doesn’t hear anyone. No voices, no movement. No Stede. 

The hill is leveling out when he feels a tug on the wire. From behind. Back in the direction of the beach. He turns around, squinting in the darkness. “Stede?” he calls, his voice hesitant. He keeps one hand on the wire, the other reaching behind him to grab the crossbow. There’s another tug, and then the wire goes slack. The end comes whipping back up at him and he flinches back.

He pulls it toward him, his stomach dropping. It’s cut. Someone fucking cut it. Their entire plan is fucked up now. He turns back in the direction of the lighthouse, racing up the hill with the severed end still in hand. Oluwande’s there, and this is Oluwande’s plan, so if he can just get back to him, maybe they can figure something out before the lightning hits. Which… He glances up at the sky. It’s impossible to tell what time it is, or what time the arena is programmed to be. It could be hours or seconds. Maybe he’s about to get fried right now.

He pushes the thought from his head and runs faster. He can see the tall structure coming into view now. “Stede!” he calls as he approaches, but there’s no response. “Stede! Oluwande?” Nothing.

There’s a sharp pain in his side as he slows at the base of the lighthouse. He hunches over for a moment, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The wound on his arm is still bleeding, more profusely now. Running full tilt up a hill—and landing on it when he tripped—probably hasn’t exactly been helpful in stopping the bleeding. He doesn’t have time to worry about that now, though. 

He catches sight of a body on the ground. Panic seizes him and he races over, desperately hoping that it isn’t Stede. 

It’s Oluwande. He’s unconscious but breathing. A bit singed by his hands. Next to him is a spear, part of the wire wrapped around the head of it. “The fuck…?” He picks it up, untwisting the wire. What the fuck was Oluwande doing with this?

Ed panics for a moment, not knowing what to do. He’s got the end of a severed wire, the other end to which is somehow attached to this lighthouse, meant to act as a conductor. Oluwande’s passed out cold on the ground and there’s no sign of anyone else, allies or enemies. He’s lost track of Stede, the one person who he’s been trying to keep safe. He has no fucking idea what he’s supposed to do now.

Something shifts, and he can almost feel the electric charge in the air. It must be nearing the time the lightning would strike. He’s got to figure something out, and fucking fast.

He looks up at the lighthouse, crumbling and huge. Follows the trail of the wire down until he lands on the end of it, still clutched in his hands. His eyes flick to Oluwande, then to the spear. What was Oluwande thinking…? What was his plan here? It’s too late to get the wire down to the beach. It’s too late to do fucking anything, really. Unless…

He cranes his neck to look up at the false sky. He doesn’t know a lot about force fields and electricity and shit, but Oluwande does, and from Ed’s experience of momentarily dying from one the other day, he does know that generally it’s not a great idea to mix the two. He’s got no fucking idea what will happen if he does this, but something will. Oluwande had a plan, and maybe it was this. Maybe it will be enough to have an impact on whatever the fuck is happening here. 

Ed grabs his crossbow and wraps the cut end of the wire around the loaded arrow several times. He makes sure it’s solid enough that it won’t come free, and then stands, staring up at the force field. He’s probably only going to get one shot at this, so he better make it a good one.

It all nearly goes tits up as someone crashes from the bushes only feet away from him. Ed whirls around, pointing the crossbow at Sam, who freezes, holding up his hands. “Edward,” he says, breathing heavily. “Remember who the enemy is.”

Thunder rumbles around him, the electric charge in the air ramping up. He only has seconds. A flash of silver on Sam’s wrist. A groan behind him as Oluwande comes to. The sound of Stede’s voice calling to him from down the hill. He looks down, his eyes meeting Stede’s. He’s standing frozen, Jim several steps behind him.

Ed pauses, and Stede nods and mouths, I love you. 

Ed raises the crossbow and lets the arrow fly just as lightning crackles around them.

The effect is immediate. Ed is blown back by the force of the lightning as it surges down the wire. He hears Stede screaming his name, but all Ed can think is that Stede’s okay. He’s there, he’s unharmed, he’s okay. 

He’s flat on the ground, staring up at the force field as the arrow hits and pierces through. There’s a giant flash of light as the lightning travels up the wire and makes contact with the force field. Ed shields his face, squeezing his eyes shut. He feels strange, his body thrumming with an overload of sensation and electricity. When he opens his eyes again he thinks he must be seeing things.

There’s a crack in the sky. 

He squints as it grows, inching out from the arrow’s point of impact. And then it’s not inching. It’s spreading quickly, several feet per second. It looks like glass, fractured from one single point, cracks starbursting out. It feels like a dream. Maybe he’s still in the jungle, dreaming, high on whatever the fuck is in those plant spores.

His ears are ringing but he thinks he can hear someone yelling for him. He can’t move. It feels like his ribs are broken.

The sky seems to be crumpling in on itself, the black and stars flickering as the screen glitches. A hexagonal pattern spreads out from the center of the cracks as it flickers once, twice, and then it cracks open like an egg. Bright sunlight bursts through, making Ed squint again. The night sky is fractured, crumbling as the structure of the arena’s dome begins to fail. A large piece of sky gives way, dropping from the ceiling, crashing down somewhere into the jungle. 

It’s only the first. More pieces, larger pieces, entire hexagons of star-filled sky are falling all around him. He thinks he can faintly hear the sounds of people screaming, yelling, but he can’t make any of it out. He can only stare up at the sky—the real sky—as more of it is revealed, chunks of the facade falling away. The sky is clear blue, not a cloud in sight. The kind of blue that makes him think of Stede.

His head is going hazy. He’s probably going to die, and that’s fine. As long as Stede’s okay.

He repeats it to himself like a mantra: Stede is okay, Stede is here, Stede is safe. 

The bright daylight is blocked, suddenly, by a hovercraft. Ed frowns. The Capitol. They’re probably upset. They’re going to take him, they’re going to…fuck, Ed doesn’t know. Kill him probably. Maybe after a little light torture. He hopes they leave his mom alone. She didn’t do anything. And he hopes they leave Stede alone too. They can watch back all the footage and see that Stede didn’t have any part in any of this. This was all Ed.

All of this is his fault.

The hovercraft is lowering, and then a claw is emerging, scooping Ed up. It feels like he’s flying, almost, as more of the force field crashes around him. The hovercraft raises him up to swallow it into its belly. 

Ed’s fuzzy, his head going black. He’s going to die. Either he’s dying right now, or Badminton is going to kill him.

His last thought is at least Stede is safe.

Chapter Text

Blackness, and then a harsh cold metal against Ed’s back. He gasps and realizes there’s a mask on his face, a strap wrapped around his head. It’s the same kind his mother had in the hospital, supplying oxygen. He chokes and wheezes on each breath. His ribs are definitely broken. He looks over next to him. Oluwande is on the floor, unconscious but breathing; so is Zheng, and Charlotte from District 6. 

Ed rips off the mask. He needs to figure out where he is, what’s going on. There’s an IV in his arm and he rips that out, wiping the blood that seeps through the small pinprick on his pants.

On a quick glance around, it looks like a Capitol hovercraft, like the ones they’d take into the arena, and it’s moving. Memories are coming back, of the sky cracking, and a claw picking him up out of the arena. That was real, all of that happened. They’re all alive and made it out. 

As for what’s going to happen to them now, after fucking up the 75th Games, Ed has no idea.

He can hear voices in an adjacent room. There’s a med kit near his feet. Ed grabs the hypodermic needle out of it. As good a weapon as any right now. God knows what’s happening, what’s going to happen. They could be heading back to the Capitol to be tortured for all he knows. 

He slowly skulks his way towards the door, slightly ajar, with dim light spilling out of it.

“What the fuck are you going to tell him?” one muffled voice says.

“The plan,” another answers. “Simple as that, no need to complicate it.”

Ed bursts through the door, brandishing his makeshift weapon. “What the fuck is this, where are you taking me?!” In his fear, he can’t register any details. Only several people grouped around a table, all of them turned to him after his entrance.

A hand grabs his wrist and forcibly lowers his hand to drop the needle. It's Izzy. He speaks in his low gravelly tone, “You and a bloody fucking needle against the Capitol.” 

Ed’s jaw drops and he looks around the room. It’s set up like some sort of planning room, a circular table with a map and points of interest marked on it in the center. And surrounding it is Izzy, Sam, David Jenkins, and…

“Evelyn?” Somehow, as if defying life itself, she’s here, alive and breathing. 

She turns to face him, her blond hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, a gray patch covering where her right eye was, and smirks. “Good to see you too, Eddie.”

“But… but you’re…” Ed’s breath is coming out in heaves. Is he dead? Is this some sort of weird afterlife?

“Let’s get this out of the way first,” David says in a commanding tone. “You’re not dead. You were airlifted out of the Quarter Quell arena, and are being flown to District 13.”

None of this makes any fucking sense. Evelyn, here, somehow alive. 13, a district that hasn’t existed for 75 years now, since it was bombed to shit in the war. “13? But…”

“Save the questions for later. Evelyn here and Mary faked their deaths in last year’s arena, and have been working with us on our plans since then. You were always supposed to volunteer. Half of the tributes were in on it. This has been in motion since you and Stede won.” David grins. “This is the start of revolution and you, Edward, are our Kraken.”

Ed can’t believe what he’s hearing. All this fucking time, he’s been being played like a fucking fiddle, on both sides of this. Why wasn’t he let in on this? Was Stede in on this?

His heart drops. Stede wasn’t in the room he woke up in, and he isn’t in here. He gives the room another glance, as if Stede’s somehow hiding in a corner, waiting to be found. “Where’s Stede?” The group around the table exchange uneasy glances. Ed pounds his hands, curled into fists, on the table. “WHERE IS HE?!”

Sam steps forward with an apologetic look. “Ed, I tried, I swear. I couldn’t find him.”

Izzy clears his throat. “We believe he was taken by the Capitol after we got out with all of you,” he says evenly. “Him, Jim, Rachel, and William were taken.”

No. No. Ed wants to throw up. Stede, taken by the Capitol, in the clutches of a man who fucking hates his guts. He could be dead in the Capitol right now for all Ed knows, and it’s all his fault. He was supposed to protect Stede. He was supposed to keep him safe, get him out if he could and—

Wait. No. He did the best he fucking could, out of the loop, with limited resources. It’s these fuckers’ faults. They didn’t even try to get everyone. 

Rage and fear boil in him. Without even realizing he’s doing it, Ed punches Izzy across the face. He grabs Izzy’s collar, dragging him closer. “You son of a bitch, you were supposed to get him out of there! You promised me! You’re a fucking liar, you’re a liar!”

Hands grab at him, trying to pull him off. A needle is shoved into his arm, and blackness swallows him.

-

The room he wakes up in is a gray box with soft warm orange and yellow lighting coming from unseen lights in the walls. He’s hooked up to more medical equipment, with tubes in his nose, IVs in his arm, a cast on his right arm, bandages around his midsection, and a steadily beeping heart rate monitor next to the bed. There’s someone with him, sitting beside him, holding his hand.

“Hello, darling.”

“Mama,” Ed says in a weak voice. He struggles to sit up, groaning at the ache in his ribs. In his entire body, if he’s honest. The back of his head throbs from where he hit the metal floor. Liz pulls him into a crushing hug, squeezing her son until he can barely breathe. He doesn’t care, she can hug as tight as she wants, Ed’s just happy she’s alive.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” she whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to his hair.

He feels wet tracks running down his cheeks. His mom is safe, she’s here, she’s alive, but Stede… “They left him there, Mom. They left him and there’s nothing I can do.”

“I know, baby. It’s gonna be okay, I promise. They want to save them.” She holds him until his breathing evens out, until the tears run dry and he pulls away. She cradles his face, kissing his cheek. Gives him a sad, but reassuring smile. “We’ll get him back.”

Ed nods after a beat. Yes. He’s going to get Stede back, no matter what it takes. He’ll march on the fucking president’s house on his own if he needs to. 

Liz looks around the room. “13, huh? Didn’t know it was still around.”

“What happened?”

She purses her lips, and tears fill her eyes, “After you shot that arrow, the broadcast went black. And…and these people showed up at our door and took me, Zheng’s aunt and her children, and some other victor’s children and spouses and anyone else they could fit on a hovercraft. As we were leaving, riots were happening in the streets, peacekeepers shooting at civilians…” She shakes her head.

“All out war.”

“Yeah.” Liz wipes at her cheeks, and sniffs. “It’s scary. I don’t want to sugarcoat it.”

He caused this. God knows how many people are dead or are about to die… all because of him. “This is all my fault.”

“Baby.” She kisses the top of his head as Ed crumples again, crying into her chest. All he can do is cry now. “Edward, it’s not your fault. This would’ve happened anyway. All of this has been building for years. But you.” She pulls away so he can look her in the eyes. She looks tired, like she’s barely slept in days. God knows how he looks. “Edward, you and Stede gave everyone hope. It’s just the push they needed to rise up.”

While they’re here, and the country seems to be falling apart around them, Ed needs to tell her the truth. He can’t go on keeping secrets from anyone, especially not his mother. “Mom, I lied to you.”

“About what?”

He sucks in a breath and tears stream down his cheeks. “I killed dad. I—I pushed him into that machine on purpose. He was drunk and I saw an opportunity and…and I killed him. And I fucking lied to protect myself.” He breaks down, and falls into his mother’s arms. “I’m sorry.”

She strokes a gentle hand through his hair. Her lip quivers. “I know.”

“What?” Ed pulls back, searching her face. “I told you he fell, I told everyone he fell, how could you know?”

Her face is compassionate, reassuring. Loving. “Eddie, sweetheart, I’ve always known.” She cracks a smile. “I’m your mother. You don’t think I can tell when you’re lying?”

“But—” Ed’s head is spinning. So much has happened in his past few hours of consciousness. It all feels fake. Like a horrible, terrible, extremely realistic nightmare. “But, you knew, all this time? And you never said anything? But… why? Why aren’t you mad? I killed my own father, I mean-“

“Eddie, I was never mad. I’m not mad now either.” She cradles his face, brushing away some of his tears with her thumbs. “I was sad, then. Sad that you felt like you had to do that to protect me, when I should have been the one protecting you.”

“So you don’t…you don’t hate me?”

“Of course not. I could never hate you. I love you, so, so much. More than you could ever know. You’re my only baby, I love you more than anything. I love you for fighting for me even when it meant putting yourself in danger. And I never want you to put yourself in danger, I never wanted you to volunteer for the Games for me, but I love how good your heart is for doing that for me, and for Stede.”

Ed shakes his head. “I didn’t know what else to do, I’m so—”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. What’s done is done, and we’re both alive. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

It should be Stede here in his place. He’s the one that protected Ed from the Capitol, it was him that saved him from dying in the arena, he’s the one that killed Jack, he pulled Ed out from the siren lake. He’s the real hero. Ed just killed a few fuckers who deserved to die. 

“I wish it was him here, not me.” His mom doesn’t try to fight him on this. If that’s what Ed thinks, then that’s what he thinks. He’s stubborn like that. Always has been. She holds him for a few minutes more, sniffles filling the quiet, empty space.

“I’ll let them know you’re awake,” she says when they separate again. She gets up. “They need to check you for more injuries.”

“Wait.” Ed stops her, grabbing her wrist. “You said there were riots in 1. What about 12?”

She clearly saw something from the hovercraft, or heard something from the others, because her hand is trembling in Ed’s hold. And she looks more distraught than ever.

“Edward, there is no District 12 anymore.”