autopsy of a tragedy - Star_Boy_Baku - 原神 (2024)

Chapter 1: moonshine tears

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ONE - MOONSHINE TEARS

"There will be hundreds of names in the bowl. She is as safe as she can be.” - Kaveh

The door of Tighnari’s Victor Villa swung open with a loud bang followed by hasty, familiar steps. The initial alarm showing on Tighnari’s face melted into softness when he recognized the intruder and he leaned back in his seat; Alhaitham pretended not to hear the guest until he showed up on the threshold of the living room, a basket full of food and drink in his arms.

“Sorry I’m late”, Kaveh gasped, blowing some stray locks of gold out of his face. He set down the basket and unpacked two bottles of moonshine as well as a bowl of Mushroom Hodgepodge fresh from the black market. Alhaitham’s mouth curled into a frown before his eyes flicked up. Kaveh immediately got defensive. “He deserves it, okay? It’s his favorite.”

“That’s a nice gesture, Kaveh, but I doubt I’ll be able to keep anything down”, Tighnari’s tail curled around himself; he looked smaller in more ways than how much space he took up—with the reaping taking place tomorrow morning, Tighnari’s face was sunken, his cheekbones more defined. His agile movement had long turned jittery and clumsy. Every year ever since he had won the Hunger Games it had gotten worse. Because every passing year brought them closer to Collei's first reaping.

“Where did you even get the money for this?”, Alhaitham grunted. He didn’t have to add that buying alcohol was forbidden entirely, a privilege only Victors were allowed to have at official events, certainly not in the privacy of their homes.

“I got a good price”, Kaveh brushed off his objection and continued to unpack. He even brought matching napkins. Alhaitham had the urge to reprimand him again but curled his hands into fists instead, hiding them in the sofa cushions. He knew what Kaveh most likely had done to get this stuff—all this risk for a meaningless gesture of kindness. It infuriated him to see the blond toy with his life like that. But there was nothing he was able to say out loud, not in Tighnari’s presence.

“Alright, let’s not let it go to waste. A strong drink might help”, Tighnari jumped to his feet to grab some glasses from a nearby cupboard. Alhaitham watched how his dark green tail swished after him. It was Fatui-made, matching the fox ears on top of his head.

When Tighnari had entered the games at fifteen years old, a shy and scrawny boy who hadn’t even been able to hold a weapon, no one in Teyvat had thought he would come out of the arena victorious. But his knowledge of the arena’s flora and fauna had made it possible for him to outsmart his enemies. Poison and chemical reactions and a big portion of luck and charisma charming the sponsors had led Tighnari to victory. In the final battle, an explosion had destroyed both of his ears and ability to hear. At the courtesy of the Fatui and their leader, the Tsaritsa, Tighnari’s body had not only been restored but been enhanced in the true fashion of Snezhnaya: extravagant and over the top and entirely ridiculous to the common people in the Districts.

Tighnari had understood the ears to some extent, the tail however, he claimed, had been a cruel joke by the Gamemakers because in his arena, he had befriended some forest foxes and used them to his advantage; the Fatui loved their victors as mascots, not real people. Making them adorable and admirable was merely a part of their fun.

To Alhaitham it all made sense, as callous as it might be. There was no reason for him to shun Tighnari as most of their district did nowadays. His body modifications inclined people to think Tighnari now was one of the Fatui and his mentor position in the Hunger Games did the rest. Gossip had never mattered to Alhaitham. He had gone to school with Tighnari and always believed in his return. Their friendship hadn’t changed, not even when three years ago Tighnari had brought home a young girl from Snezhnaya instead of his tribute after the games.

Collei was the reason for Tighnari needing a strong drink tonight.

The mentors moved freely in Snezhnaya, at least during the games. After all, mentors were former victors of their beloved Hunger Games and nationwide adored, Tighnari being one of the most popular ones. But one night during the many festivities surrounding the games, Tighnari had stumbled into preparations for the future games, where mutations built for the arena had been tested. Not on artificial intelligence like it was often used in the arena but on real people, Collei being one of them.

Tighnari had wanted to make it public, he had told Alhaitham as much after his return, but after an audience with the Tsaritsa herself, who offered him the compromise of taking Collei with him or the eradication of his home and all the people he loved in it, Tighnari had taken Collei and run.

He had wanted to resign from his mentorship then. But being the sole victor of District 12 ever since the games had started, he hadn’t been able to abandon all the future tributes. Because like Kaveh, he was human, led by emotions rather than logic, no matter how much he begged to differ.

Collei was eleven now. Which meant, this year’s Reaping would be the first of her being eligible. After being freed from the claws of the Fatui, they had the power to throw her into an arena of death to make Tighnari and her pay for their boldness.

“They will call out her name. I can feel it”, Tighnari murmured into his glass filled to the brim with hard liquor. Kaveh filled Alhaitham’s and his glasses as well but the latter refused. “No one defies the Tsaritsa. She has been waiting for this day, she will demand her back.”

“There will be hundreds of names in the bowl. Only one paper slip will carry Collei’s”, Kaveh was sitting on the ground, elbow propped up on the coffee table between them. He reached out to pat Tighnari’s knee. “She is as safe as she can be.”

“We are never safe”, Tighnari’s eyes glazed over with something dark, the ghost of his arena that was entwined with his soul ever since he had come back. Alhaitham had to look away and stare at the muted TV; the Fatui controlled the program in the districts, so it was no surprise that they were forced to watch a highlight reel of last year’s games the evening before the Reaping.

A white-haired man was sprinting toward the chests in the middle of the arena, which were usually filled with food and water, tools and equipment and, most importantly, weapons. He flew past all of the other tributes and ignored the chests to grab onto a spear stuck in the sand.

Within seconds, he was whirling it over his head, jumping onto one of the chests, and pierced it through two different enemies rushing at him.

“Cyno”, Tighnari mumbled, following Alhaitham’s gaze. “He killed 14 tributes last year without so much as a scratch. Hunger Games record.”

“He’s a beast”, Kaveh hummed in agreement and knocked back his drink when on screen, Cyno wiped off the bloodied spear on his pants, grabbed his loot and fled into the forest surrounding the fighting pit in the middle of the arena. Everyone who had dared to hunt him down had been killed with that very same spear. “He will be a mentor this year, won’t he?”

“Yes”, Tighnari frowned, dragging his palm over his eyes with a groan. “These games get more brutal every year. How the f*ck do I protect her?”

“Okay, stop it, you are spiraling”, Kaveh scooted closer on his knees, now leaning against Tighnari’s armchair. Alhaitham stared at his still full glass of liquor, brows furrowed. “Even if her name gets called, people can volunteer.”

“No one is going to volunteer for her. They still think she is one of the Fatui and don’t trust her. And I can’t volunteer since I’m a victor.”

“People won’t let an eleven-year-old enter the arena, it would be like sending a lamb to the slaughter!”, Kaveh was indignant, firm in his own beliefs and it caused a shiver to run down Alhaitham’s spine. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to it but he saw the thought already forming in Kaveh’s head.

“There have been eleven-year-olds in the arena before”, Alhaitham pointed out. Rarely victorious, but there had been children fighting for their lives in the games. Considering the Reaping Age ranged from 11 to 21, most of the tributes were children. When it came down to survival, Alhaitham had seen even older siblings hesitate to volunteer for their family. That someone from District 12 would volunteer for Collei out of the kindness of their hearts was unthinkable.

But then, there was Kaveh.

“We will volunteer. If Collei’s name is called, we will. I mean, I will. No hesitation. And I’m sure Haitham would do the same right?”

“What?”, Tighnari gasped, eyes growing wide in shock.

“What?”, Alhaitham hissed, eyes narrowing while his chest clenched. He had feared it. Kaveh was about to sacrifice himself for this girl if her name got called.

“Collei is family, Tighnari. I’m not letting her—”, Kaveh emptied another glass, his speech wavering from fear more than the alcohol, yet clearly inebriated. “I couldn’t l-live with myself, seeing her on this screen if—if there was a way to pr-prevent it.”

“Kaveh, you can’t—”, Tighnari grabbed the blond’s shaking hand, a ribbon of tears in his eyes.

“And what? Die in her place?”, Alhaitham interrupted them. He had no time or use for the heartfelt scene unfolding in front of him. “That’s your brilliant plan, Kaveh?”

“Well, I could win”, Kaveh shot back, red spots of embarrassment and anger appearing on his neck. He grabbed the bottle of moonshine and gestured with it, pointing it at Alhaitham. “I can fight.”

“Yeah? Like Cyno?”, the other inclined his chin toward the TV screen, where Cyno had murdered his last remaining opponent, body covered in blood that wasn’t his. He threw his red-soaked spear into the sand and stared at the ground, unblinking, unflinching, not giving the cameras anything.

“I would have better chances than Collei, at least!”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that—”

“You are an artist, Kaveh. You draw and dream, that’s it. You can’t even assemble a damn bookshelf without hitting the nail into your thumb!”

“What the f*ck is wrong with you? I’m trying to cheer up our friend, why are you picking a fight?”

“Maybe to show you, you can’t win one! Going into the arena would be suicide!”, he hadn’t planned to yell like he did. Alhaitham didn’t shout, especially not in Tighnari’s presence because his new ears were so sensitive but the emotions merely burst from his chest without him able to stop them. The thought of Kaveh of all people going into the arena—

It couldn’t happen. It wasn’t allowed to.

Kaveh stared at him with his glinting eyes, one stray spark away from an explosion when Tighnari put a hand on the blond’s shoulder and cast them a sad smile: “I appreciate the gesture, Kaveh. But I don’t want to lose either of you. So volunteering is not up to debate.”

“If her name is called, I’ll take her place”, Kaveh whispered, his speech slightly slurred as he filled his glass anew. Alhaitham yanked the bottle out of his grip and the blond was too absorbed in his own thoughts to protest as he stared down the liquor, a beautiful, devastating sheen in his eyes. “She shouldn’t have to go. It’s wrong. Tighnari, it’s wrong.”

“I know”, Tighnari slid off his chair and sat down beside Kaveh, wrapping both arms around his slender frame. Within seconds, Kaveh was sniffling into the other’s shoulder. Tighnari buried a hand in his blond mane and stared at the TV where Cyno’s final interview after the games appeared.

Again, the white-haired man didn’t give his audience anything and didn’t answer a single question. It was the shortest victor interview in Hunger Games history, with Cyno being escorted out after five awkward minutes and his mentor, an old, apologetic man in his seventies, taking his place to do some damage control.

Tighnari’s wet eyes met Alhaitham’s, who forced himself to indifference. It was easy enough to achieve on the outside, face devoid of any emotions, a clean slate, while his heart throbbed in his chest to see them both like this.

Noise from the stairs caused the two on the floor to straighten their posture and seconds later, Collei appeared on the steps, a red bunny plushie in her arms, matching bunny slippers on her feet. She looked like she had already been to the arena, a ghost of a child, big, frightened eyes and a pale face.

Alhaitham got up from the sofa and turned his back to her, pretending to clean up the food Kaveh had brought. He couldn’t look her in the eyes, knowing if Tighnari was right and the Tsaritsa hungered for revenge, she would never hug that plushie again. She would go into the arena and could only hope for an opponent as swift and efficient in killing as Cyno.

“Collei, golam, couldn't sleep?”, Tighnari wiped over his eyes and cleared his throat before he approached her.

“N-No”, she chirped and immediately slung her arms around Tighnari, burying her face in his chest. Tighnari’s face soaked into a pained grimace while he tried to keep his voice light and gentle.

“Do you want some midnight cookies? We could read the fairytale book you got from Amber?”, Collei nodded into his chest before she stepped back, pressing her bunny plushie close. She peaked past Tighnari and stared at Kaveh and Alhaitham, blushing.

“I don’t want to keep you from your guests.”

“It’s fine. They wanted to leave anyway. Right, boys?”

“Yeah”, Alhaitham said, looking at a point past Collei’s shoulder. “Good night, Collei.”

“Good night”, Kaveh’s voice sounded dangerously wet and Alhaitham grabbed him by the arm, tugging him out of the living room before he could make a scene. Collei had enough to deal with as it was. Tighnari would prefer a night as a family over them both painting an even darker picture.

As soon as they had left Tighnari’s Victor Villa, Kaveh yanked himself out of his grip, stumbling a little with the force of it and almost crashing into a street lamp. Here on Victor’s Street, the electricity was always working seamlessly, even if it was only to illuminate Tighnari’s residence for all the other houses were empty, District 12 lacking any other victor of the Hunger Games.

Kaveh walked ahead of him, shoulders hunched up, vigor in his step. Alhaitham followed him with long strides, scanning the periphery for any Fatui that would be able to get them into trouble. Technically, they were still ahead of the curfew but close to the reaping, the Fatui always itched for a fight.

This time they arrived at Alhaitham’s house a little outside of town without issues. Kaveh pulled out his keys and opened, while Alhaitham looked down the street. It was eerily quiet in their home—everyone was on edge because of the Reaping, families clung to what might be their last precious moments together.

“I don’t understand-", Kaveh blurted out as soon as Alhaitham closed the door behind them. “-how you can be so damn cold about this. Every year around the reaping you get like this—I mean, it’s always bad but this year, f*ck, Haitham. Do you even have a heart? It’s Collei!”

Alhaitham’s lips hardened into a straight line, refusing to give him the truth.

People like Kaveh couldn’t endure the truth because Kaveh was fixated on mining his dreams, digging for gold when all the memories they were ever allowed to have in this world were long corroded by rust. Kaveh walked through every day like he was already in the arena, like there would be no more consequences.

And Alhaitham, he just—he just couldn’t. Couldn’t mourn for these kids for as long as Kaveh was eligible for the games. This was Collei’s first year but it was Kaveh’s last. Alhaitham couldn’t lose him so close to the damn finish line.

He said nothing of that out loud, the truth his burden ever since he had first noticed Kaveh five years ago. Back then, Kaveh had been sixteen and organized a mural on the elementary schoolyard together with the kids. Most of his peers had helped but Alhaitham had merely observed, not keen on spending more time with loud, entitled brats than necessary.

But Kaveh was made for this task. It had been the week before the Reaping and yet these kids had smiled, even the teenagers having to fear for their names to be called. They would sit on their knees, sunburns on their necks, smiles brighter than the colors they painted.

Kaveh, he was summer sun and summer storm, frustration and pride but he also was adventure and life - precious, in a world like theirs. He painted portraits of the older citizens, had so for Alhaitham’s grandmother before she had died, her portrait still hanging in Alhaitham’s office to this day, he bought treats for the children too poor to afford them and took in strays during winter. He risked his life on the black market to trade for more paint supplies or sugar or moonshine, anything to give people a spark of hope or comfort.

No, Kaveh wasn’t allowed to go into the games. District 12 couldn’t lose Kaveh.

Alhaitham couldn’t lose him.

He couldn’t volunteer for Collei because he knew what Kaveh had done to be able to buy all the things he did. He had accumulated debt and in the districts, as long as you were in Reaping Age, debts were paid by putting your name into the bowl. Over and over.

Alhaitham had never talked to Kaveh about it but ever since he had offered him a place to stay - because he had hoped carrying the burden of housing and food for him would prevent Kaveh from making his financial situation even worse - Alhaitham knew that Kaveh’s name was roughly 240 times in this damn bowl.

Tomorrow was the last day Kaveh’s name could be called.

And the odds weren’t in his favor.

So no, he couldn’t volunteer for Collei. Because he needed to volunteer for Kaveh.

Kaveh asked him if he possessed a heart, not knowing he had set it alight a long time ago. Not knowing he was the reason Alhaitham had to steel that very heart against his plea and his anger because a beating heart trumped a soft one. If he gave up now, who would protect Kaveh?

It had to be him.

“I guess not”, he, therefore, answered, earning a speechless scoff from Kaveh. The blond threw himself onto their sofa and then pulled another bottle of liquor from underneath it. He uncorked it and took two big swigs. “Oi, what are you doing? How much of that did you even buy?”

“Got a good price, three for two”, Kaveh slurred, glassy eyes staring at the wall, taking another swig before Alhaitham managed to wrench the bottle out of his grip. Before the other could swing at him, Alhaitham was in their kitchen, dumping the liquor down the sink. “f*ck you! I paid good money for that, you asshole!”

“More like a dozen of your names”, Alhaitham snapped. As quickly as his voice rose, it ebbed, realizing what he had said. To him, it always had been obvious but considering the shocked expression on Kaveh’s face, the blond had been convinced he had kept it a secret until now.

“You know?”, he croaked, heat rising into his cheeks.

“You are not as smart as you think”, Alhaitham dodged his heavy gaze; for a moment, he was tempted to make a run for it. Hide in his bedroom and pretend to fall asleep until he heard Kaveh snoring on the sofa. But then he was closing their distance and sitting down beside him because, of course, he was. Because if the odds weren’t in their favor, this would be their last night together.

Kaveh’s eyes were shiny from tears and alcohol, his pupils blown so wide there was barely a ring of red left. His blond hair framed his high cheekbones, tickled the edge of his defined jaw. Alhaitham’s heart felt like it might detonate and he hated it.

Hated that even now, in what could be their last night together, he couldn’t tell him the truth because the truth was pointless. He could confess but there would never be something as much as them. It would be Kaveh staying home and Alhaitham dying in the arena. Or worse, it would be Kaveh volunteering for Collei, so Alhaitham couldn’t take his place and then Kaveh’s name would be called anyway and then—

“Don’t volunteer”, Alhaitham’s voice hushed to a whisper, brushing against Kaveh’s mouth with how close they were by now. The blond didn’t move, stared at him with his big, clueless eyes, brows still pulled into a frown as he tried to process what was happening.

“Why?”, Kaveh asked like there was an answer Alhaitham could give that would change his mind. Or maybe now it was Alhaitham being the fool, the dreamer. And Alhaitham knew better than to rely on dreams. Their world did not leave room for them, the Fatui made sure of it.

“Just don’t”, it wasn’t enough but all he could give. His tone bordered on a plea and as he lifted his hand, it took them both by surprise. Alhaitham’s palm smoothed perfectly against Kaveh’s cheek, his long fingers threading into shimmering hair. “Kaveh, don’t do it.”

“My name’s in there, Haitham”, Kaveh pressed against the touch, leaned into his palm and his eyes fluttered shut. Long blond lashes sprinkled tears onto his cheeks like morning dew. “242 times. It’s gonna happen anyway. And if I can save Collei, then—”

“There’s hundreds of other names too.”

“You knew. So you most likely have already calculated the probability of my name coming up. And with you acting like this, I know my chances are poor.”

For the fracture of a second, Alhaitham’s lips and heart were slashed between a laugh and wince; he had given into his dreams and Kaveh had taken his place. Because Alhaitham was the rational one, the stoic one, the one without a heart. He pulled away his hand and flexed it as if the motion could get rid of the warmth in his palm, the tingle Kaveh’s skin had left on him.

“Haitham?”

“I’m going to bed.”

“No, wait, let’s talk about this. Or we could—we could get something else to drink, just—stay here with me?”, Kaveh’s voice was as soft as rain, desperately trying to reach him by pouring all over him and Alhaitham’s heart gave another painful twist. He shook his head and got up, flinching when he felt Kaveh’s hand grabbing onto the hem of his shirt. “Haitham, please.”

He sounded frightened. Scared and fragile, like something precious.

Alhaitham knew if he turned around, they might bury themselves in each other; thread fingers through hair and soul, entwine themselves, skin on skin, teeth on teeth. Maybe it would unravel the knots in his chest. That last chance of giving what he had been withholding for years.

But again, the looming tragedy had long mingled with his perception of the world they were forced to live in so he slapped Kaveh’s hand away and approached his bedroom without looking back.

While he could deny himself a look, his ears picked up the stifled sob fleeing from Kaveh’s lips.

“Haitham, I will—”

I will die soon, was that what Kaveh was trying to get past the lump in his throat? I will die soon, so please spend this last night with me?

Alhaitham shook his head, still not turning around.

No you won’t. I’m not gonna let you.

Five years ago Alhaitham had fallen in love with Kaveh over a bucket of paint and a smile so beautiful it was calamitous. Ever since then, he had nurtured that secret and it had grown with every sarcastic comment thrown his way, with every laugh he was allowed to witness, with every minute of sun coating Kaveh’s head in gold.

People loved Kaveh. Better people than Alhaitham, no doubt. Who wore their hearts on their sleeves and showed affection through softness rather than cynicism. But before they were allowed to, they would have to get through him.

Chapter 2: sacrifice

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWO - SACRIFICE

“I’m bringing you home.” - Haitham

Kaveh’s head was about to explode. Implode. Whatever. Some kind of plode that wouldn’t be pretty. He pressed his eyes shut, trying to defy the morning sun filtering into the living room but it was no use because, of course, Alhaitham hadn’t pulled the curtains shut as usual. He grabbed a cushion and pushed it onto his head while the liquor of last night challenged him to a fistfight somewhere near his temple. This also was Alhaitham’s fault. If he hadn’t left him alone on the sofa, he would have hydrated more and avoided a damn hangover on Reaping Day—

It was easy to blame Alhaitham for everything wrong in his life, easy to deflect when Kaveh knew he had written his own tragedy over the past months. He had gotten reckless. What was one more Reaping Day if he could give a poor child in their district back their laugh? What was a looming disaster waiting to happen when he stretched time with illegal liquor and turned boring parties into unforgettable events that drowned out the pain of the world they lived in?

It was a temporary fix, nothing more. But for someone living in the moment, it was everything.

The moment now was Reaping Day and the truth wrapped its cruel, cold claws around his neck, making him retch. Kaveh pushed himself off the sofa and managed to reach the kitchen sink in time before throwing up nothing but bile. He wiped his mouth with a disgusted noise. It still felt like something was lodged in his throat but he knew, there was nothing left but nerves.

Alhaitham’s bedroom door was closed but Kaveh didn’t know if the other had already left or was still asleep. Outside, people were already making their way to the marketplace. Kaveh tried to focus on the mundane things, the routines he followed every day as much as a jittery bird could even follow a routine.

Brushing his teeth and combing his hair were the first steps back into humanity and after he had taken a shower - cold, because apparently the authorities were messing with them once again - he at least felt alive enough to walk into an arena of death.

Because despite his fear being a palpable thing, icy in his neck, he still was determined to take Collei’s place. Like the rest of the districts, Kaveh was no stranger to slaughter, at least on the screen. Watching the Hunger Games was mandatory; he had seen people die on camera endless times, people he knew and loved, from classmates to vendors to friends. He couldn’t imagine Collei’s face up there on the screen, lifeless eyes staring into a nothingness people could have prevented.

When Kaveh wrapped his binding cloth around his chest, standing in the middle of his bedroom which was colorful chaos made of paint supplies and clothes, he heard Alhaitham stepping out of their bathroom. Immediately, a blush crept up his neck and he hurried to look for a shirt. He blamed it on the alcohol of last night but that moment of Alhaitham sitting down next to him, actively reaching out for him - something he had never done in all the years they had known each other - made his heart flutter like the wings of a hummingbird. Kaveh brushed the thought off with a quiet scoff and got dressed.

“You are late”, Alhaitham’s voice startled him. He was standing on the threshold, fresh out of the shower because his hair was still damp and rivulets of water ran down a toned chest, over the waves of his muscular stomach, only to vanish in the towel he had wrapped around his hips.

“What the—”, Kaveh covered his eyes and wanted to smack himself over the head for the gesture. They had seen each other like this plenty of times because they lived together, though Alhaitham always politely averted his gaze whenever Kaveh scurried across the hallway, having forgotten his binding cloth or a towel after a shower. There was no reason to freak out, no reason for Kaveh to feel hot all over. Probably another projection attempt of his stressed mind to not deal with the bleak reality waiting for him. “Put some damn clothes on if we are late, then!”

“I’ll be there in time. You should hurry, though.”

“Hah? Are you not coming with me?”, Kaveh hated his voice for letting that soft tremor through. The anxiety of being left alone last night came back with full force; he didn’t want to ask Alhaitham to accompany him now because he had thought it a given. After everything he had revealed yesterday, Alhaitham didn’t even want to walk together? Kaveh tethered on the edge between frustration and fear and settled on the former because the familiar was comforting.

“I have to do something first”, Alhaitham pushed a strand of his silver hair behind his ear and the towel slipped down a little further, revealing the defined V-line of his hips. Kaveh wanted to combust. He still felt nauseous and his hangover didn’t agree with his heart running a marathon in his chest.

“Do something”, he echoed with all eloquence left but Alhaitham just gave a non-committal hum and vanished from his doorstep. As much as Kaveh was grateful to not be flashed without his consent anymore, seeing him leave caused his fingers to tremble. He focused on fixing his belt and checking his appearance in the mirror instead.

After waiting another five minutes in their living room and no sign of Alhaitham, Kaveh left.

It felt wrong, to walk the path to the marketplace without Alhaitham. Kaveh had moved into his space only two years ago but even before then, especially when Alhaitham’s grandmother had still been alive, he had almost spent every day at his house, caring for her, chatting with her, just enjoying each other’s presence. He couldn’t say the same for the both of them. Alhaitham seemed fed up with his presence more often than not and yet he had invited Kaveh to live with him when his grandmother had passed.

If it was to fill some grieving hole in his chest she had left behind or if he craved the company, Kaveh didn’t know. But while their friendship was a thorny, fickle thing, there had been good moments too. Alhaitham respected Kaveh whenever he was in the zone, working on his art for hours on end and Kaveh made him tea and snacks when Alhaitham was all cooped up in his office, reading. They had learned to coexist in a quiet understanding. And sometimes, they erupted into arguments that lasted for days.

Kaveh would give anything for Alhaitham to berate him now if it meant he was walking by his side.

Still, he reached the marketplace by himself and took a deep breath when he saw the crowd already gathering. In the middle of the square areas were marked to organize the different age groups of the Reaping. The youngest near the front with a perfect view of the stage, where Snezhnayan officials were currently putting up the camera equipment.

He spotted Collei’s green hair in the masses, the kid crammed into a corner of her square, arms slung around herself. Tighnari was talking near the stage to the Tribute Escort of District 12 - a petite woman with bright red hair and big, worried eyes. Contrary to the other Snezhnayans, who treated the Reaping Day as a draft of their favorite sports team, she looked like she didn’t want to be here.

“Make that two of us”, Kaveh mumbled and caught Tighnari’s eyes the moment he wanted to look for his square. The mentor said something to the woman before he left her there by the stage, hurrying toward him. Kaveh tried his best to smile but it came out crooked. Tighnari threw his arms around him anyway, pulling him into a fierce hug.

“Kaveh, it’s good to see you. I mean—well, you know what I mean. Where is Haitham?”

“He needed to do something first”, Kaveh shrugged, hoping to play it off but Tighnari’s eyes narrowed, staring right through his façade. Kaveh might be unfiltered sunlight on any other day of the year but during Reaping Day he felt close to withering away. Tighnari grabbed his hands and squeezed them.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

“Whatever”, Kaveh’s eyes flicked to the people around them. With his entrance, he had gathered a lot of attention. The people looked at him with a spark of hope, their softest smiles in the face of ruin. Kaveh knew all of them by name; they didn’t deserve this fate. None of them. “I better get to my spot. Wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“Wait, Kaveh”, Tighnari’s modded fox ears twitched with his nervousness. As much as Kaveh despised the Tsaritsa and what she stood for, he had to admit they looked rather cute. A pathetic compensation for a life full of trauma, but cute. “About yesterday—you won’t do it, yeah? I thought about it and you were right, Collei’s name is not gonna be drafted. It’ll be okay. But you and Haitham, you can’t volunteer. Promise me?”

“Yeah, okay”, Kaveh whispered, voice tight. Did Tighnari know how often his name was in the bowl? Or had Alhaitham kept that secret for him? “It’ll be okay.”

What a hollow phrase. It sounded familiar, though, and was easy to say. So he did. Squeezed Tighnari’s hand, told him again everything would be okay and took his spot in the square for the 21-year-olds. He was greeted with hushed, nervous voices and Kaveh found himself repeating the phrase. It’ll be okay. It wouldn’t, and they all knew that but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

When the red-haired woman stepped onto the stage next to the massive Reaping Bowl for a final soundcheck, the crowd fell into an eerie quiet. The Fatui soldiers at the edge of the square with their loaded guns weren’t needed to keep them docile like cattle. Kaveh caught Alhaitham’s silver hair, glittering in the sunlight, in the square next to his own. He craned his neck to catch his stare but Alhaitham’s gaze was pinned to the stage, his shoulders rigid.

This f*cking stubborn idiot—

“Welcome District 12 and welcome Teyvat behind the screen to the 99th Hunger Games and their glorious Reaping Day!”, the woman chirped and if she hadn’t spoken into the microphone, all her words would have been swallowed by the gentle summer breeze so nervous and jittery was her tone. A murmur washed through the crowd. Kaveh had never paid much attention to the escort in the other years, too focused on his own dread but he remembered the former escort to be enthusiastic, ecstatic. He almost felt pity for this one.

“M-My name is Nilou and I will lead you through today’s Reaping Day”, if she expected applause, District 12 served her a deafening silence. She cleared her throat, wiping a sweaty hand on her skirt. Like all Fatui she was glittering with jewels, flaunting wealth with no regard to the poverty in the rest of the world, looking out of place in the rural District 12. “But first, let us sing our National Anthem to show our loyalty and devotion to the Tsaritsa, our Archon of Love!”

The trumpets announcing the anthem suddenly blared out of the speakers as loud as a gunshot and Kaveh saw how Tighnari pressed both hands onto his fox ears with a pained wince. The people in District 12 pretended to sing, moving their lips but barely a sound made it out. Their devotion didn’t belong to the Tsaritsa, the creator of the Hunger Games.

Over a hundred years ago, when Teyvat had been a world of many nations ruled by their respective Archons, the Archon of Love had turned on the other Gods, starting the Archon War, which had left behind nothing but devastation upon their world. Threatened by the righteous Archon of Justice the most, the Tsaritsa’s wrath had eliminated her first. Nowadays, no one barely remembered Fontaine because its whole population had been swept away by a volatile flood.

The other nations were not so lucky.

Sumeru’s former Archon Rhukkadevata had been slaughtered in her own domain, her essence seeping into the soils of Sumerian jungles but never healing enough for her to return. The remaining Archons were sealed away by the Tsaritsa in a place called the Abyss, a prison guarded by her darkest creations. Ever since, the world had been divided into districts and the Hunger Games had been created. A yearly reaping of children that had to fight each other in an arena to remind them all that nothing was mightier and crueler than the Archon of Love.

When the hymn was over, Nilou gestured for Tighnari as the mentor to join her on stage. She asked him a few questions, if he was excited for this year’s games and looking forward to mentoring and Tighnari answered with a grimace like the words inflicted a physical pain onto him. But ever since he had returned from Snezhnaya with Collei, he forced himself to comply, which earned him the Tsaritsa’s mercy and the disdain of the common people. Kaveh bit his lip. Seeing his friend suffer on stage caused his stomach to roil.

“Well, then, let’s begin!”, Nilou said and all became inevitable. The small woman had to go onto her tiptoes despite her heels to reach the opening of the bowl with thousands and thousands of paper slips. She mixed them around with a nervous smile until she pulled one out.

“The first tribute of this year’s 99th Hunger Games is…Collei Cervarius!”

Even through the gasps of the crowd, Kaveh heard Alhaitham mutter a curse. Bile rushed up his throat. Tighnari looked like he was about to faint, all the color drained from his cheeks.

It’ll be okay—what a pathetic lie, not even offering comfort, just the bliss of the unknown. But now the knowledge was palpable, held up between Nilou’s slender fingers for the crowd and camera to see the name scribbled on paper. One slip between thousands, one surrounded by hundreds of Kaveh’s name.

The other kids in the square, told by their parents to be wary of the Snezhnayan stray Tighnari had brought home years ago, pushed Collei forward, causing the terrified girl to stumble up the stage. She remained at the edge of it, sweet and innocent like a deer, desperate to run away.

Kaveh was going to be sick.

Nilou looked at her small frame and the roundness of her cheeks and briefly fought for composure. An 11-year-old being reaped was rare but when fate decided to mock them, possible. The district escort must realize that now because she had to blink away tears. Tighnari, eyes glazed over, grabbed Collei by the arm and put her on the marker for the first tribute on stage.

A hysterical sob pierced the heavy silence. Kaveh spotted Amber, Collei’s only friend from school, in the square of the 13-year-olds, fingers buried in her dress, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“And now for the second tribute of District 12…”, Nilou wrenched out.

Wait.

“Wait!”, Kaveh pushed the people in his square aside, slipping underneath the rope functioning as a barrier. Heads turned after him, confusion slowly melting into realization as he stepped onto the path between the sections. “Wait, I wanted to—”

He didn’t know why his head snapped to the side instead of facing the stage. Maybe because Tighnari took a step forward, hand stretched out as if to save Kaveh from himself, or because Collei, in all her fear and shock, dared to hope—or maybe because he wanted to see him one last time before losing him in the crowd.

Alhaitham stared right back, face blank, a harsh set to his jaw. It wasn’t the source of comfort Kaveh had longed for and he hurried to look away again. Staring at people who he knew and loved was unbearable so he looked up at Nilou instead.

“I volunteer as a tribute. For Collei. I will take her place.”

“No!”

“You can’t! Kaveh, no!”

“Don’t do it! Not for her!”

The crowd didn’t hold back in voicing their opinion and the camera latched onto their scared and furious faces while Kaveh walked forward. One of the drones circled around him, catching his expression and it made him dizzy when he realized this moment was broadcasted for all of Teyvat to see. He must still look hungover. Suddenly self-conscious about the attention, he tilted his head so his blond hair would fall like a curtain around his face. He climbed up the stage and Collei burst into tears.

Before either of them could react, she had launched herself into Kaveh’s arms. She was so light, weighing nothing at all and yet Kaveh felt like being stabbed—like something corroded and twisted was sliding between his ribs. Because for the fracture of a moment, he wished to not have said anything. Even while returning the hug and whispering reassurance into her hair, he wished to have let her go and die.

But then she looked at him with her big, bright eyes, snot on her lip and tears on her cheeks and Kaveh felt his mouth pull into a smile. He gently steered her to the stairs and one of the Fatui grabbed her by the arm to help her down because they needed more cameras on stage, clearly thirsty for a good story.

“I don’t think anyone in District 12 has ever volunteered!”, Nilou said, trying to get ahold of the crowd. When that failed, the Fatui drew in closer around the market square. The people protested but slowly calmed down.

“Why did you do that?!”, Tighnari’s voice, too quiet to be picked up by the microphone, brushed over his neck. Kaveh hunched up his shoulders and shook his head. Why? Because it was right. Because he most likely would have gone into the arena anyway. Because it was the human thing to do. Even if no one else seemed to see it that way.

“What’s your name?”, Nilou asked, slowly easing back into her moderator duty.

“Kaveh Paradisaea”, his heart thundered in his throat. “But you can call me Kaveh.”

“Kaveh, that’s wonderful, yes. I’m sure Teyvat wants to know why you volunteered for this young lady. Who is she to you?”

“She’s—”, the microphone picked up the tremor in his voice and from up here, Kaveh saw all their shaken expressions and knew with him and Tighnari gone during the games, Collei would suffer the brunt of their helplessness. “She’s part of our family. Actually, I have one favor to ask the people of District 12, if you don’t mind, Nilou?”

“Uhm, sure, I think that’s okay”, Nilou sputtered, taken aback but not quick enough to deny Kaveh the microphone. He grabbed it out of her hand and looked at the crowd, purposely skipping Alhaitham’s square. He knew if their gazes met, he might crumble to ashes right here on this stage.

“Collei is a little girl among many other girls who could’ve ended up here in her place. Our f*cked-up world and this system are not her fault. So please, if you extend merely a fraction of the love you have shown me as my friends to her, I know she will be safe. Don’t let my actions be in vain. Thank you.”

“Kaveh—”, Tighnari hissed, ears flicking in alarm but Kaveh was too wrapped up in the emotions warring in his chest to realize the harm his own words could inflict on him in the future. One did not criticize the Tsaritsa and the world she had built. Luckily, Nilou was too timid to correct him on that and luckily, the crowd erupted into cheers and promises to Kaveh too much of a heartfelt moment for the audience at home to focus on his faux pas.

“What a grand gesture! Acted in the name of our Archon of Love!”, Nilou chirped into the microphone before she approached the bowl with the paper slips a third time. This time, no one stopped her. “And now, for the second tribute of District 12—”

“I volunteer.”

His voice was sharp, with a preemptive edge to it that demanded their attention in an instant, causing even Nilou to halt. The paper slip dangled between her fingers but she hadn’t even been able to read the first syllable.

Alhaitham didn’t need to push himself through the crowd like Kaveh had before because they stumbled backward to make him room. He carried himself straight, like there had been a hook attached to his spine, as he approached the stairs of the stage. He grabbed the microphone from a startled Nilou and spoke, voice expressionless.

“I volunteer as the second tribute of District 12. My name is Alhaitham Volans.”

“Two volunteers!”, Nilou gasped, so stunned the paper slip fluttered to the ground between her feet. Alhaitham handed her back the microphone and took his place on the marking on the stage. When their shoulders brushed, Kaveh crashed back into his body, his ears nothing but white noise, his heart beating so violently in his chest, he felt it in his very bones.

“What the f*ck are you—”, Kaveh shout-whispered but it was then, finally, Alhaitham tilted his head to catch his gaze. His mesmerizing eyes, turquoise and orange, like the ocean set ablaze, caught Kaveh’s shocked stare and even though Alhaitham didn’t move, the blond felt the phantom of last night’s touch on his neck. As if the gesture had tried to tell him the outcome of the Reaping hours ago already.

“I told you not to take her place”, Alhaitham said, voice devoid of any emotion. Kaveh saw an accusation in it nonetheless. He fled toward it, eager to simmer in anger rather than to let the realization settle in that Alhaitham had just given up his life to volunteer for—they didn’t even know for whom!—just to…just to what?!

It was a question that must linger on Nilou’s mind too because she spoke up again.

“Alhaitham, two volunteers for one district, that must be a first! You didn’t even let me read the second name”, Nilou laughed, all flustered. “Why is that?”

“Whoever it was, they wouldn’t be able to do what I can.”

“Winning the games?”

“Protect him.”

Protect him. Protect him—him?! Kaveh’s head snapped up a second later than the rest of the crowd caught onto Alhaitham’s statement. Nilou’s hand was shaking by now. Surely she had thought her first job as a district escort to be a lot simpler than the mess Kaveh and Alhaitham had just thrown at her feet.

“What the hell are you talking about?!”, Kaveh blurted out and stepped from his marking to grab Alhaitham by the wrist. That hadn’t been the plan. He had wanted to save Collei. Alhaitham had urged him not to take her place and now he was here volunteering for—for him?!

Alhaitham twisted his arm out of his grip with a frown and had the audacity to push him back onto the marking. Kaveh stumbled against Tighnari, who stared at them both in disbelief but managed to hold onto him. Alhaitham stole the next words from Kaveh’s mouth, this time loud enough for all of Teyvat to hear.

“I’m bringing you home.”

“No—”, Kaveh choked out and tears shot into his eyes; his inner world ground to a deafening halt while his chest demanded to roar and destroy, a furious heart beating its wings like a vulture. He fought against Tighnari’s grip and barely noticed it until his friend yelled at him to calm down.

He didn’t listen to Nilou, who tried to wrap up the Reaping for the cameras with a shaking voice while the rest of the district talked all over each other; he dug his nails into Tighnari’s arm wrapped around his chest instead. Fatui soldiers swarmed the stage and then they were escorted down the stage and into the district’s train station.

Well, Alhaitham was escorted, Kaveh was dragged by Tighnari, fighting against him like a feral cat, arms taking a swing at his former roommate every other second. The Fatui ignored his antics and didn’t seem concerned with Alhaitham’s safety because they opened the door to a designated holding area, told them their families and friends would be allowed to visit in about fifteen minutes and slammed the doors shut, leaving Tighnari with the mess of his two tributes.

As soon as the doors closed and their mentor made the mistake of easing his grip, Kaveh launched himself at Alhaitham’s throat. His hands clawed into the other’s jacket, pushing him back until Alhaitham hit a wall.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! YOU f*ckING IDIOT!”

Alhaitham’s mouth pulled into a frown when his head impacted the wall, eyes squeezing shut but when his lashes fluttered open again, he gave Kaveh this hard, emotionless stare he was starting to loathe. Like a drawbridge being raised up to hinder Kaveh from entering the fortress that was Alhaitham’s heart and mind.

“I told you not to volunteer.”

“So what?! Are you telling me you did this to f*cking lecture me?! Are you out of your mind?!”

“For someone claiming to be so smart you are incredibly dense.”

“This is not a f*cking joke, Haitham! These are the Hunger Games!”

Alhaitham put a hand on his chest, applying pressure. Not enough to push Kaveh off but enough for the heat of his palm to burn through the fabric and his tape, enveloping his violent heart and for the next tirade to die on his tongue. He took a step back. Alhaitham’s fingertips drifted over his chest before his hand fell down beside him.

“I’m the only one realizing that”, he muttered. “You went up there because you think helping people is the only thing that will make you matter.”

“Don’t f*cking psychoanalyze me, that’s not what this is about!”

“This is exactly what this is about”, Alhaitham scoffed, as always speaking over Kaveh’s own feelings that were often too big for the blond to comprehend. Alhaitham being able to point them out ahead of him was infuriating. “Your selflessness turned into self-slaughter, congratulations Kaveh.”

“Oh, okay. Me saving Collei is self-slaughter but you stepping onto the stage for some stranger, whose name we haven’t even heard is smart and wise, like everything the great Haitham does, hah?”, they were talking themselves into a frenzy like they did ever so often. Alhaitham remained leaned against the wall in his back, arms crossed, posture flawless like a marble statue and it drove Kaveh insane, causing his blood to boil and his voice to tremble.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“No. Absolutely not”, Kaveh shook his head, blond strands swaying, red cheeks burning. “You owe me an explanation. You just threw your life away and for what? And don’t tell me it’s for me because you—that would be f*cking ridiculous, you wouldn’t—”

Because Alhaitham mocked his intelligence on a daily basis, because he criticized his spending habits and how he lived his damn life, because Alhaitham thought himself superior and would never make such an emotional decision unless—

No, Kaveh didn’t even dare to think about it. That thought that had formed last night during their fleeting moment together, a glimpse of another life, where they had made different decisions and been brave. That future was gone, torn from desperate hands within five seconds of sacrifice.

If Alhaitham really had volunteered for him, his death would be Kaveh’s fault. And if he allowed that thought to manifest in his mind, he would lose himself.

He was barely hanging on by a thread as he turned away from him, unable to push through their argument. That simmering nausea fought up his throat and he pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, forcing to keep down whatever was left in his stomach. Bile and misery, most likely.

A strangled sob caught both of their attention; Tighnari sat on one of the chairs, feet on the seat, legs drawn up and arms and fluffy tail curled around them. His tears refused to fall but they settled in a glassy sheen over his eyes. His fingers buried so harshly into his tail that some fur came loose.

“Tighnari”, Kaveh rushed toward him, the movement tearing their friend out of his stupor.

“No”, he pressed out and jumped to his feet. “I can’t believe you two. You truly are two of the dumbest smartest people I know and if I stay in this room any longer I’ll say something I’ll regret so I’ll—I’ll just—”, whatever it was, it faded into another sob, one that bordered on a frustrated scream and then Tighnari left out of the second door of the room that led out to the platform of District 12’s train station.

“f*ck”, Kaveh breathed out, sinking into a crouch, hands threading between his tousled hair. He curled his fingers around the strands until his scalp prickled with pain, grounding him. “f*ck!”

The door swung open and let in a string of voices from a crowd gathering outside. But the only people that were allowed to enter were a pale Collei with tear-dimmed eyes and her best friend Amber. Collei stopped when she realized Tighnari wasn’t present, a confused noise escaping her. Alhaitham pushed himself off the wall.

“I’ll go get him so she can say goodbye.”

Kaveh rose from the ground, wiping some stray tears off his face and forced himself to smile. Collei and Amber immediately burst into sobs and threw themselves into his arms. They almost toppled over from the impact before Kaveh managed to hold onto them. The two girls hid their faces in his chest, soaking the fabric of his shirt. Their small, shaking hands clawed into his back with agonizing force and Kaveh clamped his lashes shut.

“Thank you for saving her”, Amber sniffled into his shoulder. “We will paint you a mural, like you did in our school, with all your favorite colors and—and we will never forget you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want this, Amoo Kaveh, please don’t be mad at me—”

“Don’t be silly, Collei. I would never be mad at you”, the blond promised her and had trouble swallowing past the lump in his throat. Even Amber and Collei didn’t believe in him coming back. And who could blame them, really? Like Alhaitham had said yesterday, Kaveh wasn’t a fighter. He was a dreamer, a painter, someone whose muse it was to create not to destroy. People like him didn’t survive the arena. He squeezed them both harder, hiding his tears in their hair.

When Tighnari was brought back in by Alhaitham, pushing his anger aside to be a support for the girls, they flocked to him at once. Kaveh remained where he was, bleary eyes staring at nothing in particular as slowly, violently, the realization settled in.

“Why are you crying? I thought this was what you wanted.”

A hot tear ran down his cheek, dripping down the sharp edge of his jaw as he lifted his head to look at Alhaitham next to him. “How can you be like this, especially now? You’ve always been withdrawn but never cruel. Why now?”

“Cruel”, Alhaitham echoed as if weighing the word on his tongue, getting familiar with the taste. He looked past Kaveh, his pupils widening slightly. “Probably because I don’t have a heart.”

“Haitham, you know I didn’t mean it like that—I was upset, that’s why I said it”, Kaveh reached out to him once again, surprised his friend even brought up his accusation from last night. Normally, Alhaitham wasn’t one to dwell on their quarrels. But this time something deeper seemed to bother him. He dodged Kaveh’s hand with a sidestep.

“Then maybe stop saying things you don’t mean.”

“I will, I’m sorry—”, it drove him mad, how Alhaitham escaped every attempt to reach at him, physically, emotionally, it seemed like he had locked his heart shut last night and tossed away the key. Somewhere, in their shared home, it still lingered in the clutter of another life and neither of them could reach it because there was no coming back. “Please, tell me why.”

“I already told you, Kaveh.”

“What do you mean? We never talked about this, we never planned for this.”

“I did.”

“You did? What—I don’t understand—”

“You don’t have to”, again, he was being shut out, pushed away, though Kaveh dared to see something in the glint in Alhaitham’s eyes. Barely there but as sharp as a knife, something desperate to break free under all the indifference. “I’m bringing you home, that’s all you need to know.”

“No—no, you can’t do that!”

“Tributes”, the door to the platform was thrown open, two Fatui soldiers stepping in, a nervous Nilou waiting on the threshold. “The train has arrived. Follow us.”

Alhaitham was the only one complying immediately, walking ahead, walking away and Kaveh’s fingers were too weak to catch onto him. No. No, this couldn’t be the plan. He needed to talk to Tighnari. If one was able to make it home, it was Alhaitham. He was smart, he was strong and he—yeah, he could do it.

Collei and Amber were pulled away from Tighnari, all three of them crying and then Tighnari grabbed Kaveh by the arm and reluctantly dragged him along. They boarded the waiting train in stricken silence. Tighnari stared out of the window until the girls were out of view and the lush jungle surrounding District 12 embraced them in a green hue.

It wasn’t until Tighnari burst into a new wave of tears when he looked at Kaveh that the realization settled like a boulder in his stomach. That he might see District 12, his home, for the last time in his life.

Chapter 3: dealer's choice

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THREE - DEALER'S CHOICE

“How could one live in Snezhnaya and know nothing about the monster Il Dottore?” - Tighnari

The train purred like a cat underneath their feet, the sound too peaceful for the destination they were headed. Tighnari was curled up in the armchair in his designated cabin; he had locked the door but he couldn’t drown out the noises seeping through it. There was nothing his ears didn’t pick up—well, not his ears, the fox ears they had given him after his victory. His real ears were nothing but a scarred mass hidden beneath long, dark hair.

When he had entered the arena as a teenager his hair had barely reached to his still human ears; now it bounced around his hips, dark with green streaks, luscious and desirable, conforming to the Fatui’s style. Despite his disgust toward them, he wore their fashion without questioning it. Tighnari didn’t care much anymore about finding his own self and protecting his identity because they had long ripped it from him. Had gifted him new ears and a tail because they thought it funny and endearing, had decided on the green accents in his hair on a whim to fit the theme of a forest ranger, a role he had played in his games, and had stripped him of everything he had ever treasured about himself. Like a small scar on his hand from collecting bugs in the wilderness of District 12 or a birthmark on the low of his back. Imperfections that had been eradicated as a gift to the victor. Because for the Fatui, perfection was the only thing worth desiring.

Tighnari stared at the mirror across from him; even his eyes had been taken by the games, their gaze never quite the same as before the arena. Right now, they were blotchy and red. He rubbed over them as if to wipe away the scenes of the Reaping.

His mind was in turmoil, scattering from one thought to the next. The relief of protecting Collei from this year’s games was too fleeting to find comfort in. Kaveh volunteering was a sacrifice and they all knew it. As much as he was grateful for his courage, he couldn’t feel any gratitude because while it might save Collei, he would still bury a friend.

And then, there was Alhaitham.

Before Tighnari could think about the other’s actions, a knock on his door caught his attention. His fox ears twitched at the noise, uncomfortable. He wanted to hide under his blanket but he knew, he wouldn’t be allowed a moment of peace for a long time. Maybe never again.

He was about to send two of his best friends into an arena of death. And next year, he would have to fear for Collei’s life all over again.

“Tighnari, I was hoping we could go over the schedule of the upcoming days?”, Nilou was standing in the door, looking up at him with her big, teary eyes and Tighnari felt a surge of irrational anger at her expression—how dare she cry over what had never been hers to begin with? This tragedy wasn’t hers to mourn. But his anger dissipated when he saw her clutching her clipboard and quietly waiting for his approval. No other escort of the Fatui had ever done that. Tighnari might be a mentor but he was still merely a pawn on the Tsaritsa’s chess board.

“Sure”, he heard himself saying and followed her into the parlor functioning as a community room. It held a long table filled with treats ranging from fresh fruit to delicate tarts and rich chocolates. Nilou sat down and pushed the desserts away. Tighnari grabbed a raspberry in passing and popped it into his mouth, eyes rolling at the intense flavor. “Is this your first time managing a district?”

“Yes”, Nilou blushed, fingers nervously tapping at her clipboard. “I’ve been working for Rosalyne, the host of the victor’s interviews, for a while but due to some…uh, creative differences, they decided to part ways with me and the Harbingers found this new position for me. It really is an honor.”

Tighnari huffed a bleak laugh. He had never met someone who lied this badly.

“So it’s a punishment.”

“I would never dare to say that—”, Nilou dodged his gaze, anxiety hanging in her lashes.

“You don’t have to. I’m saying it.”

“Criticising the Tsaritsa is—”

“—a criminal offense, yeah, yeah, I know. What is she gonna do? Everyone I care about is already gonna be suffering through these games.”

“They are your friends, then? The tributes?”

“They are my family.”

That caused Nilou to flinch. Her lashes fluttered as if she was desperately trying not to cry before she lifted her head: “I’m sorry, Tighnari. That’s awful.”

He shrugged because there was nothing else to say. After another awkward pause, Nilou pushed their schedule between them and angled it so Tighnari could read it.

“We start with the styling and costume fitting before they will be presented together with the other tributes at the Colosseum. Tomorrow, the training days start, three of them until they will be allowed to present their skill set in front of the Gamemakers and get their scores. However, there’s a prestigious dinner being held by Harbinger Dottore tomorrow night, where a lot of sponsors attend, so I’ll try to get us invitations.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s a great opportunity! You can collect even more mora from the sponsors—they usually only extend invitations to the tributes from District 1, 4 and 7 but I believe with Alhaitham’s and especially Kaveh’s charisma, they could leave quite the mark on the Harbingers to get invited as well.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve been to such a dinner before”, Tighnari interrupted her and stopped his hand mid-air, the raspberry he wanted to take suddenly feeling like a drop of Fatui poison waiting to mingle with his blood. He pushed the fruit bowl away. “They want the first look of the tributes before anyone else. The first touch.”

“I don’t—”

“Have you ever been to such a dinner, Nilou?”

“No”, she admitted. “My former position didn’t allow it. But again, if Alhaitham and Kaveh get invited, we might get to accompany them. The managers of the other districts told me it’s a great opportunity to acquire highly valuable items during the games.”

“Do you know the price for those items?”

“I assume a lot of mora but if they are willing to pay…”, she said it as if she had found a loophole to take advantage of the establishment and Tighnari’s anger simmered into a bitter laugh because she knew nothing. How could one live in Snezhnaya and know nothing about the monster Il Dottore? Or was it so normal for her that she didn’t recognize the issue under it all? Surely, she had heard of the rumors?

“The only people paying the price during those banquets are the tributes. So, no. We aren’t accepting the invitation. I’m not sending Kaveh and Haitham in there. Back to the schedule. I assume the tribute interviews still take place the day after the scores?”

“Yes”, Nilou caught on quickly and didn’t try to argue with him but focused back on her notes. “Ten minutes with Rosalyne for each of them. I don’t know yet who gets to go first but I will try to acquire that information. The day of the games starts with a long breakfast, then styling and then…”, her voice ebbed into a hush.

“And then we send them to their death.”

“Lovely”, his voice caused them both to flinch. Alhaitham had entered the carriage without them noticing and closed the door behind him. He sat down at the head of the table, ignoring the feast prepared for them. “We need to talk strategy.”

“We will”, Tighnari found his tone bordering on annoyance. But if Alhaitham wanted to be spiteful and pretend to be all business and not three friends being thrown into this mess, fine, he could have Mentor Tighnari, not Friend Tighnari. “Once we are settled into our suite and have access to the tapes of the former Hunger Games. With every one of us present.”

“You know that Kaveh can’t be present for this to work.”

“No, Haitham, I don’t. In fact, I don’t know a f*cking thing because you never bothered to tell me about your brilliant plan that somehow is dedicated to me losing both of you instead of none of you!”, Tighnari snapped, tail flicking in agitation. Nilou scrambled for her clipboard and excused herself, realizing immediately she didn’t want to be part of this conversation.

Alhaitham waited for her to close the door before he crossed the few seats keeping them apart and sat down beside him. Tighnari resisted the urge to pull away. It was still hard to look at him; Alhaitham’s expression was blank, the shutters of his soul sealed shut as if nothing of this affected him and it made Tighnari want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

“In the past 98 Hunger Games, the weapons provided always included at least three swords and approximately a dozen daggers, distributed either in the chests or right at the Cornucopia. So our strategy will be to avoid the slaughter at the beginning but gather as many of those chests as possible and flee into the edges of the arena. I’m better with a sword but I can pull off daggers if needed. The sword is also the favored weapon of District 1’s tributes, so taking that resource away from them will work to our advantage.”

Tighnari stared at him, jaw slack, eyes wide. Alhaitham pinched his brows in annoyance as if taken aback his friend didn’t react. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for him to respond, arms crossed in front of his chest.

There were several questions rushing through Tighnari’s mind. Like when Alhaitham had studied the past Hunger Games if he claimed to despise them and not even stared at the screen when they were forced to watch them or when the f*ck he had learned to wield a sword or throw daggers and why he had thought up a strategy two hours after realizing he would be going into the arena.

But the only question that mattered was the one Tighnari knew the answer to.

“You are set on getting him home?”

Alhaitham looked at him like he was stupid. And for a brief moment, Tighnari even agreed. Because how had he been so blind, to not see it, when the signs had all been there?

Alhaitham, most comfortable in solitude had invited Kaveh into his home when there were plenty of other people in District 12 wanting to take him in. Alhaitham, who despised social gatherings without a purpose, had accompanied Kaveh to the schools to paint murals just to be in his presence. Alhaitham, who was convinced Kaveh couldn’t win the games by himself, had volunteered to fight at his side even before Nilou had spoken the second name.

“You are in love with him.”

“Tsk”, Alhaitham broke their gaze, staring at the tabletop but they both knew he wasn’t seeing it. There was the faintest tint of pink forming on his neck, crawling into his cheeks. He hunched up his shoulders, jaw clenched. “Do you think it can work?”

“I think he likes you more than he even realizes, so—”

“The strategy, Tighnari. Archons, keep your focus”, Alhaitham cut him off, sending him a glare but the soft tremor in his voice betrayed him. It was the reason Tighnari allowed himself to forget about the games, even if only for a second.

“You need to tell him, Haitham.”

“And then what? We go on dates? Celebrate our anniversaries? Get married?”, Tighnari wanted to protest but Alhaitham was no longer attacking him, no, his anger was one sigh short of yearning, an ache that hung on his tongue and was shared between them, quietly, fiercely, and knowing there would be no redemption for them. Not now and not anytime.

“Help me bring him home. That’s all I want.”

He didn’t think himself capable of agreeing for it was like aiming the barrel of a gun at Alhaitham’s head. Sacrificing one to save the other and even then, there was no guarantee it would work out.

The chaos of the arena was unmatched. The adrenaline brought people to do things they never would have thought being capable of doing. One false step, one miscalculation, or even just bad luck and it was over. But he knew that wasn’t what Alhaitham wanted to hear, so he kept his mouth shut.

“The Fatui will eat Kaveh up. You know I’m right, Tighnari. You know them better than any of us. He volunteered to take the place of a scared little girl and he’s beautiful—they will adore him, he has the potential to become their favorite. Let him play it up in the interview. The more forgettable I am, the better. Let him outshine everyone, including me. Channel all the mora you can get through sponsors into him, even if we get split in the arena. I take care of the rest.”

He wanted to tell Alhaitham that it wasn’t that easy. That even if the Fatui fell in love with Kaveh, there were still 22 other tributes that wouldn’t. That even if Alhaitham acquired a sword or a dagger, he had never killed anyone before. That it ripped something from you you never wanted to part with, that it changed everything the moment you took another person’s life and that in the end, it could all be for nothing.

That if you went into the arena determined to die for someone, you could lose focus of the living moments you had to push through first—but he saw the plea in Alhaitham’s eyes, heard the trembling softness in his voice and didn’t have the heart to tell him.

So he promised him to do so. Promised to sacrifice his friend for a chance of getting the other home. And it felt like stepping into the arena all over again.

The lush vegetation of District 12 had been quick to fade as the train rushed through Teyvat but the resentment inside the palor had not. Alhaitham would show up to their shared meals but Kaveh refused to come out of his cabin. Nilou was the only one who was allowed to bring him food and stay for a brief chat to make sure the blond wasn’t doing something irrational and Alhaitham just shrugged whenever Tighnari pushed him to f*cking talk to him. It was frustrating and before soon, Tighnari needed to turn away from this mess - it was already starting to cloud his judgment.

When they arrived in the lands of Snezhnaya, the wind howled outside the train and the snow powdered the buildings like sugar. The architecture of Snezhnaya was breathtaking, dwindling towers and massive buildings made of red brick and then glass, an invisible dome keeping the heart of the nation away from the cold. It was surprising what you could create if you drained millions of other people of their resources, Tighnari thought as they entered the train station.

“Wow”, Kaveh whispered, nose almost pressing against the window as he took in their surroundings. The buildings in Snezhnaya were colorful, a lot of them red - the color of the Archon of Love - and the people were even brighter. Fatui loved dressing themselves up in abhorrent fashion and a lot of them had modified their bodies to represent animal features, like they had done to Tighnari against his will. “Why is there snow everywhere but in the city?”

“The area around the Tsaritsa’s Winter Palace is protected by a glass dome. Like a snow globe.”

“Glass? I doubt it”, Kaveh mumbled under his breath but Tighnari wasn’t nearly as fascinated by Snezhnayan architecture as his friend was, so he ignored him and went over the schedule with Nilou again, quickly, while waiting for the doors of the train to open. “It would be silly to use glass in a zone with this amount of thermal stress. The coldness would make it contract and lead to fracture.”

“Plus, the sun reflecting would accelerate the temperature and make it hard to control”, Alhaitham agreed, though his back was turned toward the windows. Tighnari’s ears twitched in frustration.

“No, no. If it was glass, you could be sure it was modified for optimal solar absorption, considering the area it has to cover. Which makes the thought of a globe as chosen structure even more ridiculous—since the sloping surfaces suffer from thermal fractures quicker than vertical ones”, Kaveh explained, the words tumbling from his lips like a waterfall.

“So, what do you think it is?”, Alhaitham wondered.

“Are you done with discussing Fatui architecture now?! Really, this is when you both decide to break your stupid, stubborn silence? To talk about glass domes?”, Tighnari snapped, a vein pulsing above his right eye.

“We just concluded it’s not made of glass”, Alhaitham chimed in and Tighnari wished the Fatui had given him claws matching ears and tail so he could swipe at him. Kaveh’s pale, worried face pulled into a laugh, a soft giggle filling up the parlor car, the sound enough for Tighnari’s anger to simmer into nothingness.

Archons, he hated them both so much.

“You know a lot about this stuff”, Nilou said, smiling softly at Kaveh, clearly relieved the blond had started talking after two days of silence.

“I’m just interested in architecture, that’s all.”

“Theoretically, by the way. He’s terrible with tools”, Alhaitham added and, predicting the incoming hit, performed a swift sidestep to dodge Kaveh’s hand aiming for his arm.

“Says the one stuck in his head 24/7.”

“Mh, sure, Mr. I-overthink-everything-even-what-I-eat-for-breakfast.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day! It’s necessary to think it through! Not everyone can live off coffee and co*ckiness, Haitham.”

Tighnari clenched his teeth at their bickering because it was so familiar; it was a scene out of their lives in District 12, where Alhaitham and Kaveh would talk in circles for hours on end about the pettiest things just to have a reason to talk to each other. With his new knowledge of Alhaitham being in love with the blond, it hurt even more to hear them argue. He wanted to grab their heads and smack them together. He braced himself for the upcoming task instead.

But once again the Tsaritsa caught him off-guard.

The train doors opened and they were greeted by a chosen crowd. Flashing lights accompanied them as they left the train, Nilou leading their little group as their spokesperson. A camera team circled around them like vultures, capturing their arrival from every angle while the people gathered gave a polite round of applause.

The crowd consisted of potential sponsors, the organizing team and the mentors who had arrived beforehand. Their real debut in front of the Fatui would be given tonight, in the Colosseum with both tributes dressed up accordingly. Tighnari squinted due to the many lights and suddenly realized he should have explained their arrival before he threw Alhaitham and Kaveh to the wolves.

But then Kaveh caught up to Nilou, looping their arms together and waving at the cameras: “It’s so awesome to meet you all! I’ve already admired your beautiful city from inside the train but it’s so much better out in the open!”

Even Tighnari had trouble to discern if Kaveh’s excitement was fake or genuine but he played them like a violin: the Fatui adored being adored. They gushed at his entrance and the reporters threw questions their way while the camera team asked Kaveh to spin around to give them the best angle, their camera lights setting him aglow.

Tighnari watched how Kaveh’s golden hair came loose from his braid as he snapped the hairband onto his wrist in a practiced move, tilting his head to give the camera a look that was as innocent as it was alluring through his long lashes.

“District 12, please hurry, we are on a tight schedule”, one of the organizing team addressed Nilou, who nodded with a blush. Alhaitham walked up to Kaveh and placed a hand on the small of his back, guiding him away from the cameras. Tighnari swallowed hard when he saw how Kaveh leaned into the touch, making the gesture even more intimate. He knew exactly what it would cause - the Fatui sniffed out stories like bloodhounds. But for now, his two tributes followed Nilou to be escorted to their suite and be shielded from the general public until their debut.

They walked to the limousine reserved for District 12 and Alhaitham stepped in front of the driver to open the car door for Kaveh and Nilou himself. Tighnari shook his head in disbelief. He must be doing this on purpose.

Make Kaveh shine at all costs, he remembered. Not that the blond would need a lot of help with that.

While Kaveh and Alhaitham would be settling into the suite with Nilou, Tighnari had to attend a briefing with the other mentors, where they would go over the upcoming schedule as well as get a look at the Gamemakers of this year’s season. Tighnari despised these events, this year even more than usual because he wanted to be with his friends.

The briefing room in the basem*nt of the designated tribute hotel was modern and bright, a huge hologram in the middle of the table that showed off the Tsaritsa’s Winter Palace. The circular desk was already crowded; contrary to the tributes, the mentors weren’t forced to keep to their districts. They were all victors, after all. Tighnari’s eyes trailed over the people who would become his rivals for the next two weeks.

Some of them, like Kokomi and Jean, had grown to become his friends. Others he avoided on purpose, like Rosaria and Xiao, who usually kept to themselves and had yet to use their voices for pleasantries. Others made it impossible to ignore them. Tighnari flinched when a jeweled hand landed on his shoulder.

“Seems like you were blessed with a very special gem this year, Tighnari.”

“Ningguang”, he nodded, turning around. The tall woman with light-blond hair gave him a sly smirk. She was adorned with so much jewelry that it felt like looking into the sun. On her wrist, a watch displayed a hologram of Alhaitham and Kaveh’s entrance, the camera zooming in on Kaveh’s pretty face. “He truly knows how to sell himself, yes.”

“And we all know that’s the key to success in these games”, Ningguang hummed. She sat down and gestured to the seat next to her. Tighnari followed suit even though his stomach clenched with unease.

He might be a smooth talker when it came to acquiring sponsors but Ningguang was a master of her field. Being the mentor of District 5 her tributes weren’t bred to fight in the games like those of District 1, 4 and 7 but she always managed to squeeze the most mora out of the sponsors, causing her tributes to come close to winning more often than not.

“These games will be expensive for our lovely sponsors”, someone else purred from behind. Tighnari turned his head with a frown and was met with the calculating gaze of Yae Miko, mentor of District 7.

Her pink fox ears twitched as she took him in; the Fatui had modified her body after her own wishes, giving her the look of a kitsune. Yae Miko was the only tribute in Hunger Games history to win as an 11-year-old, through cunning, strategy and a disturbing lack of empathy. She smirked at them, showing off her filed canines: “So many pretty faces, so many above 18. So much beauty going to waste.”

While Ningguang agreed with another noncommittal hum, Tighnari’s jaw tensed to hold back a snippy answer. He knew what Yae was getting at, his thoughts circling back to his conversation with Nilou this morning. Yae had been part of the Fatui for so long she was practically one of them, a guest of honor at the unofficial sponsor dinner held before the games. He had seen her throw her tributes to the wolves year after year—

“Your Kaveh seems to be used to the spotlight”, the fake sweetness in her tone tugged at him. “I didn’t know District 12 had TV shows of their own.”

“We don’t”, was Tighnari’s clipped answer. “And I know what you’re trying to do here, Yae. You’re not getting any information out of me, wait for the interview like everyone else.”

“Ah, so snarky this year, sweetheart”, Yae giggled before both of their fox ears twitched toward the door, announcing the last mentor before he even appeared on the threshold. The chatter in the room dimmed immediately upon his entrance.

Tighnari inhaled a sharp breath.

Cyno, last year’s victor, this year’s mentor of District 10, had looked detached from the whole Fatui spectacle before. Now, after his games, he was a stoic bronze statue in their midst, not acknowledging either of them as he approached the empty chair next to Tighnari. His long white hair wasn’t combed but hung messily into his face. Yae sat down on his other side, drinking him up with her cunning gaze.

Cyno regarded her for a mere second before he slightly turned his head to look at Tighnari instead, the motion sharp, like a match being struck. Red eyes pierced through him as if they were teeth, their gaze scraping over Tighnari’s skin, stealing a taste and Tighnari’s tail flicked without him being able to suppress the instinct.

He killed 14 people last year, was all that echoed in his mind. And then—he kept his scars. He didn’t let the Fatui fix him.

Cyno had gone through his games without an injury because no one had been able to reach him as soon as he had gotten his hand on the only spear provided by the arena. But he had hurt himself on it while cleaning it in a frenzy on day four, delusional with grief and mania, trying to wipe blood off the blade that hadn’t been there, so now a little scar in the crook between thumb and index finger remained, a white line looking like lightning on his dark skin.

When he noticed Tighnari looking at it, he balled his hand into a fist before hiding it under the table.

“Welcome to the fun side of the games, Cyno”, Yae purred.

“The fun side?”, Tighnari echoed under his breath and caught Ningguang’s expression. She looked uncomfortable but refrained from interfering, too used to Yae’s antics. Yae Miko was Fatui royalty. No one dared to challenge her. Unless they wanted to give their tributes a disadvantage in the games.

Cyno said nothing, just looked at her, fiery eyes devoid of any emotion. Yae remained unimpressed.

“I saw the ladies you brought with you. Beautiful. Do you want me to set them up with a sponsor for the dinner? Surely you could use some help in the PR department, mh?”

“Speak of my tributes again and I will cut out your tongue.”

A silence rushed over the room so icy Tighnari was surprised Yae’s gasp didn’t appear as a white cloud in front of her face. Cyno’s voice bristled like it was dragged up his throat by thorns and it was the first time Tighnari had ever heard him speak. It was also the first time he saw Yae speechless, smooth face twitching into a furious mask. Ningguang leaned in with a de-escalating smile.

“Apologies, Cyno. Of course, none of us would want to interfere with your strategy. We are just always keen to help a new mentor out.”

Cyno’s mouth became a hard line as he stared them both down, Tighnari awkwardly squeezed in their midst, silently contemplating to get a new seat when Yae rushed away with a scoff and sat down beside Kokomi, mentor of District 8, instead. When she turned her back on them, Cyno slouched in his chair and observed the hologram of the Winter’s Palace in front of them.

Tighnari fidgeted under the table but his tail made it impossible to hide his nervousness. Technically, they were all murderers in this room, some of them more ruthless than others, but none of them had been like Cyno.

That brief glimpse of mania in his games had been gone within a second and never returned. As if Cyno had outrun his shadows, the trauma and the grief and become a spear himself, plunging into his opponents without regret no matter that he had left the arena. His tail flicked against Cyno’s arm and Tighnari scrambled to grab it, pressing the fluff against his chest with pink cheeks.

“Don’t accept her sponsors”, he whispered because he couldn’t withhold that information from Cyno. Intimidating or not, he was a first-time mentor and would need the help. “If Yae still decides to send you one. Or if the mentors of District 1 and 4 do.”

“What?”

“I said—”, he looked up only to be met with Cyno’s piercing gaze. It felt like being interrogated, like saying anything but the truth would be an unforgivable crime. “District 1, 4 and 7 are affiliated with the Fatui ever since, you shouldn’t trust them.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t wanna question me why?”

“Why would I? Are you the one I shouldn’t trust?”

“Uh—I—”, this time, his tail twitched in confusion and he let it go. It fell down between them, brushing against Cyno’s hand, leaving a curious touch on his scar before it swished behind him. “No, I’m not.”

“Good.”

“Good”, Tighnari echoed, staring at Cyno’s profile because the other already looked straight ahead again. There was a little bump on his nose as if it had been broken some time in his life and hadn’t healed properly. His jaw was defined, so sharp it might cut glass. He carried his chin high, exposing the arch of a broad neck. Tighnari felt his mouth becoming dry.

“I’m Tighnari, by the way. Mentor of District 12.”

He wanted to smack himself in the face the moment he said it. Of course, Cyno and the whole world knew that. Like any mentor, he had watched the Reaping Day to study the competition and Tighnari had been up there on the stage. He had been up on that stage for the past six years.

“I know. I watched your games”, Cyno looked at him again, his face blank and serious but Tighnari was unable to avert his gaze anyway. “You were brilliant.”

The familiar surge of anger traveled up his throat like it did whenever someone - mostly Fatui - complimented him for his games. Because it meant they congratulated him for slaughtering innocent children while being a child himself—there was nothing commendable about that.

“Despite what they forced you to do, I mean”, Cyno corrected himself as if he saw right into Tighnari’s racing mind. “I’m glad you made it out.”

Made it out. Not won. Not triumphed.

Tighnari blinked, taken aback by Cyno’s blunt words, his heart skipping a beat. The first time his chest didn’t clench when thinking about his games but allowed himself an ounce of relief.

“Thank you”, he whispered. And he wanted to say more, had a sudden urge to tell Cyno everything but luckily, it ebbed before he could make a fool out of himself, clutching his tail again with heated cheeks until a Harbinger finally entered and their briefing began.

Chapter 4: birds of prey

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FOUR - BIRDS OF PREY

“Oh darling, fashion is always a statement.” - Lumine

District 12 got the suite on top of the massive glass building in the center of Snezhnaya, right where the dome above them reached its peak. They walked into the living area with the adjacent dining room, where servants were currently preparing “a small assortment of refreshments” as Nilou had called it, which looked like a whole banquet to Kaveh. Despite the nausea roiling in his stomach, his mouth watered when the delicious scents filled the room.

Two huge, plush sofas were facing the wall where their arrival was being projected. Kaveh froze mid-step when he saw himself on there, twirling for the cameras, winking at the reporters asking for a sliver of his attention. And then there was Alhaitham, tall and stoic and gorgeous, stepping to his side and putting a hand on the small of his back. Kaveh swallowed when he saw himself leaning into the touch, desperate for a fraction of home in the tragedy they had been thrown into.

“You did so well”, Nilou said beside him, staring at the screen in awe. “You’re made for the camera.”

“Oh, I—”, Kaveh’s cheeks grew hot. He was ashamed about this debut. But the other choice had been bawling as soon as he set foot into Snezhnaya and that wasn’t allowed. Kaveh had long learned to shine, to reflect the light back thrown at him as to not worry the other people around him. So he did it again, returning Nilou’s polite smile. “Thank you. It was quite fun.”

Behind them, Alhaitham took it upon himself to explore their suite, which must be bigger than the town hall of District 12. Distracted by the view outside and himself on the wall, Kaveh hadn’t even noticed that four separate rooms were attached to the suite, each of them with their respective names on the door. Alhaitham opened the door with Kaveh’s name and the blond followed.

Most of the room was occupied by a huge bed, even bigger than their custom-made double beds in their home for each of them - one of Kaveh’s passion projects, where Alhaitham had helped him out after he had bruised his thumb for the fourth time. At least a dozen pillows were neatly arranged and a box of luxurious-looking chocolate was draped in the middle. Tall windows lit the room but there was no handle attached to them. Kaveh’s stomach clenched when he realized why.

Adjacent to the bedroom was a bathroom. Alhaitham muttered a curse under his breath as he looked inside and Kaveh popped his head past the doorframe. At home, they had a shower that sometimes worked but most days gave them either not even a drop or a waterfall of ice water. Here, a corner bathtub with several jets embedded in the sides and bottom took up most of the space. But there was also a shower with more buttons than on a TV remote.

“Wow”, Kaveh made and bumped into Alhaitham when he took a step back, overwhelmed by the display of luxury. The other steadied him like he had on camera, a hand pressing against the small of his back and again, Kaveh found himself leaning into it, eyes fluttering shut. He wanted to turn around and confront Alhaitham, grab onto him, onto that part of home that must still be present and kept him from spiraling but again—him losing his mind would worry all of them, so he forced his emotions in the opposite direction.

“This is insane! How much do you think that costs?! And the bed—it’s massive, all four of us could easily sleep in there!”, he ducked under Alhaitham’s arm and plopped down on the bed. It bounced. He fell back, splaying his arms and Nilou saved the pralinés before he squashed them as he rolled around. It was so comfortable he wanted to scream. “We are definitely gonna have pyjama parties in here.”

“Do you really think—”, Alhaitham started but a servant interrupted his biting tone by announcing their meal was prepared and their stylists would arrive soon. Alhaitham’s mouth pulled into a frown: “Stylists”, he echoed in disdain.

“Don’t worry, I doubt they’ll be able to fix your attitude”, Kaveh hummed and jumped off the bed. Without thinking, he grabbed Alhaitham and Nilou by their wrists and tugged them along. Neither of them protested. They must know he was playing a charade but no one wanted to see the shattered truth behind it. No one ever did. “Archons, this smells like home!”

“The cook has studied typical District 12 cuisine and offered a few variations, feel free to tell me which you like best and I’ll make sure you have access to it all week”, Nilou said and took her place at the table, grabbing a blue cloth napkin and draping it on her lap.

The door to their suite swung open and Tighnari, accompanied by two strangers, entered. They both were blond, their hair sparkling like starlight, glitter woven into the guy’s long braid and the woman’s stylish bob. Their eyes matched, equally shining. They both wore white crop tops and matching flaring pants covered in a pattern of stars.

“Haitham, Kaveh. These are Aether and Lumine, your stylists.”

“Absolutely not”, Alhaitham said.

“Amazing!”, Kaveh blurted out and this time, his excitement wasn’t faked. They must be twins because their faces looked exactly the same, perfect symmetry, big eyes, golden lashes. They answered Kaveh’s expression equally delighted and placed two kisses each on his cheeks in greeting.

“Oh, you are gorgeous, babe”, Lumine chittered and zoomed around Kaveh like a hummingbird, scanning him from head to toe. “This is the first time we get someone with an actual fashion sense. Aether, look at that hair. He almost looks like us! Perfection!”

“Beautiful”, Aether answered, who seemed a lot more timid than his sister but observed him just as intently. Almost in unison, their golden gazes snapped to Alhaitham, who answered with a glare. They swarmed him as well, pulling at his sleeves and pinching at his jacket; Lumine even got on her tiptoes and threaded a hand through his silver hair.

“I have a theme in mind.”

“Sun and Moon, no doubt.”

“Too simple, too meta.”

“We have to be memorable.”

“Exactly, Aether, District 12 brainstorming.”

“Forests, herbs, flowers”, her twin brother shot out each word like a bullet and manifested a digital sketch pad out of nowhere, a pen already flying across the display. Kaveh and Alhaitham’s eyes met as the stylists swarmed around them and Kaveh had to stifle a laugh when he saw the murder in Alhaitham’s expression.

“Birds!”

“Birds! He said his name was Alhaitham Volans.”

“A type of bird. Very dangerous.”

“Majestic. Not as majestic as him, though.”

“We can hear you, you know?”, Alhaitham disrupted their creative flow and earned twin glares. He snapped his mouth shut and rolled his eyes but Aether and Lumine already were immersed in their shared sketch pad, whispering.

“I got an idea. Styling in an hour, right, Tighnari?”

“Well, yes but don’t you wanna eat with us?”

“No time!”

“Fashion never sleeps!”

And with that, they rushed out of the suite, arm in arm.

“What the hell was that?”, Alhaitham asked and that was when Kaveh broke into breathless laughter. At the table, Nilou hid a smile behind her napkin and Tighnari heaved a sigh as he plopped down on a chair.

“They’re two of the best, don’t worry about it, Haitham.”

“I will if they put us in bird costumes.”

“I mean if one of us would make a good co*ck it’d be you, you know, with that attitude.”

“For Archon’s sake please call it a rooster”, Tighnari groaned and pulled a plate of flatbread toward him. Nilou giggled. Kaveh was about to tease them further when he noticed the blush on Alhaitham’s cheeks as he sat down across from him.

His chest fluttered again. His emotions were all over the place. They always were when Alhaitham was around because they drove each other up the wall on a daily basis but under these circ*mstances—yeah, even when he tried, Kaveh’s heart was running a marathon in his chest. There was so much unspoken between them and he didn’t know if he could afford to hear it. So he focused on the food instead.

“Haitham, look! They made ghormeh sabzi, your favorite!”

“Is this gonna be a week full of last meals? Keep the cattle obedient until it’s time for the slaughter?”, Alhaitham muttered but took the plate Kaveh passed him. Next to him, Tighnari’s tail flicked in agitation.

“Well, they want you to be well-nourished when you enter the arena”, their mentor explained, unable to meet their eyes still. “And I recommend you eat as much as you can even if your anxiety is high. You’ll need it.”

“True, I’d rather die with a belly full of chocolate than—uh, well than not”, Kaveh cringed at the poor attempt of a joke. His fingers were jittery as he filled his plate with whatever was in reach, anything to drown out the taste of bile on the back of his tongue.

“Shut up”, Alhaitham hissed, causing them all to go quiet. His pupils were almost slitted as they narrowed in on Kaveh but behind the threat, something much more tender lingered. Robbed of a snarky retort, Kaveh bit his lip. Alhaitham was always guarded but Kaveh had chiseled along his edges for so many years, in some moments, he couldn’t hide the truth from Kaveh.

It wasn’t a threat. It was fear.

He noticed the exact moment Alhaitham knew Kaveh had caught onto him because his face softened, the mask sliding down, not shattering, for no one else to see but him. Kaveh reached over the table to grab Alhaitham’s wrist but then the other lifted it and put a forkful of ghormeh sabzi into his mouth.

“Not as good as yours”, Alhaitham whispered without looking at him and Kaveh dug his nails into the tabletop until it hurt to choke the prickle behind his eyes.

At home, Kaveh took over the cooking most of the days. Alhaitham did the dishes. Sometimes they shared dessert when a neighbor had gifted them a cake for their help around the district. It was a domesticity that had always been so normal to Kaveh that he had rarely appreciated it for what it truly was: peaceful.

“So”, he forced the lightness back into his voice. “What’s the agenda for today?”

“Chin up”, Lumine demanded and tilted Alhaitham’s chin up before he could even do so himself. He was surprised they had put them both together. Lumine’s energy matched Kaveh’s much better but he was in the other room, currently getting dressed by Aether. Alhaitham wanted to make his distaste known but she robbed him of his signature glare by sprinkling eyeshadow on his closed lid.

“This is not how Tighnari and I planned for this to go.”

“Tighnari isn’t involved in my vision. He has the fashion sense of a child scout, custom-made tail or not”, Lumine hummed, unbothered by his critique.

“This isn’t about fashion. We need to make a statement.”

“Oh, darling, fashion is always a statement.”

Alhaitham knew she was right even though he had no experience with it. He owned one good coat for the winters in District 12 and one pair of pretty dress shoes his grandma had always kept neatly. Kaveh was the one with the fashion sense, the one who came home with jackets with holes in them and attempted to mend them into something presentable and styled his hair depending on his mood. But the Fatui were different. Their idea of styling was putting animal ears onto their heads and wearing ball gowns for a walk in the park. It followed no pattern or reason and therefore, made no sense to Alhaitham.

“Kaveh needs to be the focus”, he mumbled when Lumine put glitter on his cheekbones. She stopped mid-motion, regarding him deep in thought.

“Don’t worry. He will be.”

“Good.”

And that was that, there was nothing more to say. Lumine tried to make small talk by probing into Alhaitham’s former life in District 12 but he didn’t offer her any answers. He had to resist the urge to look over his shoulder for Kaveh.

Being apart in a place like this filled him with unease. He didn’t trust those Fatui stylists or the many servants around. He needed him close. To make sure he was safe. It was all Alhaitham could think about, the sole thing that kept him sane ever since volunteering his name.

“Done! Get up and let me fix your outfit, then we can meet the others at the Colosseum.”

The Colosseum was another stroke of cruelty by the Tsaritsa. An arena big enough to hold one hundred thousand people while the tributes were wheeled in on mechanical chariots like gladiators. The games had started out like this, in that very same arena, a tournament before it turned into the most gruesome TV show of their time. Nowadays, the arena was at a secret location.

Alhaitham followed Lumine, feeling uncomfortable in his outfit. It consisted of black pants and a black bodysuit that revealed the V-line of his hips and his waist, much more skin he was comfortable sharing in front of the masses. His arms were covered in sheer black gloves reaching up to his biceps but Lumine had told him not to lift the left one until they were on the chariot. Considering the weight of his presumably plain outfit, he knew there must be more to it. But other than his sparkly, metallic make-up, Lumine had kept him tame.

Tame was the last word that came to mind when he spotted Kaveh with Aether, Nilou and Tighnari at their chariot, District 12 the last district to join and therefore crammed into the farthest corner of the hall. Like Alhaitham, Kaveh was dressed in pants and a bodysuit, though both were of a clean, sparkling white. The suit had a huge back window, revealing Kaveh’s flawless posture and the delicate arch of his neck because his hair was pinned up. Alhaitham’s eyes trailed from his neck down to the small of his back, the cut so deep it had him blush when it was just shy of revealing anything further but the cute dimples framing the end of Kaveh’s spine.

“Haitham!”, Kaveh’s voice was soaked in relief when he spotted him and Alhaitham’s resolve faltered. Again, he found his hand darting up to pull him in, shielding him from whatever this was. But when his fingertips brushed over the exposed skin on his back, he jerked his hand away as if he had been set alight. “You look like a secret agent.”

“I’m literally wearing glitter.”

“The rest of you, I mean”, Kaveh pointed out his black outfit but lost his train of thought when his red eyes drank up the dip of Alhaitham’s hips. He cleared his throat and looked away. “I can’t help but feel like a piece of meat for them to ogle over. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Yeah”, Alhaitham whispered, watching how a lock of Kaveh’s hair slipped down and tickled along the vulnerable skin of his dainty neck. The sinister, distracting feeling in his gut bubbled to the surface again, one that had no place between them because their fate was already written.

“Look at that, Tighnari. Your tributes have so much potential and you put them in skimpy leotards? I mean, I guess sex sells but this is—a bit cheap”, a woman with bright pink hair and pink fox ears approached them, sauntering through the hall like she was on a stroll, a handsome blond man and a serious-looking woman in tow. They both were wrapped in delicate layers of purple and black sokutais, the pattern throwing back streaks of lightning whenever it caught the light.

“Oi, who do you think—”, Lumine bristled but her brother put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head in warning.

“That’s Yae Miko, sister. Careful.”

Lumine huffed but didn’t say anything else. Tighnari stepped forward, shielding them from Yae’s view and Alhaitham instinctively did the same, pushing himself in front of Nilou and Kaveh and looming over his friend.

“What do you want, Yae?”

“Nothing. Just making the rounds to introduce my tributes and give fashion advice. After all, I know what the Fatui crave. So, these are Kujou Sara and—”

“Tomo”, the blond man interrupted her and stepped forward, a friendly smile playing on his lips. He reached out a hand. Tighnari and Alhaitham simply stared at him until Kaveh stepped forward and shook it with a smile.

“Kaveh. Nice to meet you.”

“Not really but we’ll make the best out of it, mh?”, Tomo winked. He must be about the same age as them, as was Sara, who now pulled him back by the sleeve of his sokutai with a scowl. Alhaitham caught her piercing, cold stare and hardened his shoulders. Yae was about to say something else when a woman adorned with golden jewelry quickly rushed past them, two teenagers, a girl and a boy, who couldn’t be older than 16 on her heels.

“Quickly, we are late.”

“Yes, Lady Ningguang!”, the name was enough to distract Yae from whatever agenda she was on because she turned her back to Tighnari - after sending another pitiful glance at Lumine and Aether - and followed Ningguang. Approaching the two women was another one with light pink hair and big, friendly eyes. Her tributes were equally young, one of the girls not older than 11.

“How are we supposed to kill these people?”, Kaveh whispered, a wet tremor in his voice. Alhaitham swallowed hard. He didn’t have an answer for that but luckily, an announcement from over the speakers demanded they get up the chariot. Aether helped Kaveh up and Lumine jumped on with them as they got in line.

“Haitham, you need to stand behind Kaveh. You lift your left arm once the cameras are focused on you, Kaveh you splay the right arm. When you do so, you will activate the mechanism. Haitham, stare straight ahead, unmoving, chin up. Eyes open or closed, your choice. Kaveh, I want you to play the crowd again. Smile at them, be welcoming but don't move your left arm, think of it as Alhaitham becoming a part of you. No quick movements that would trip him up, okay?”

“Wait, a mechanism?!”

“No time”, Lumine fixed the stray strand in Kaveh’s neck and smiled. “You’ll be brilliant.”

“Good luck”, Tighnari called after them.

The stylists jumped off the chariot as they got in line and Alhaitham took his position behind Kaveh. He was a head taller than him, enough for him to observe their surroundings without inhaling his golden curls. Arms pressed to his sides, Kaveh stood before him, facing ahead.

“I don’t like this”, he wrenched out, voice barely audible because now District 1 entered the Colosseum and the massive crowd waiting for their tributes erupted into deafening cheers. Right in front of them the tributes of District 11, a girl with blue hair and a young, anxious boy, draped in costumes adorned with fruits, making them look like a weird fruit bowl, were nervously holding onto their chariot. Some of these costume choices were questionable, Alhaitham thought.

And then he thought nothing anymore because Kaveh’s exposed back pressed against his front as their chariot moved forward. His eyes fluttered shut on a strained exhale. Kaveh was jittery, his muscles trembling but his body was warm, radiating a heat that easily seeped through Alhaitham’s thin bodysuit. He flinched when Kaveh’s left hand clawed into his leg as their entrance came closer.

“Just do as Lumine said. It’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say, she told you to be a statue.”

“Wanna switch?”, Alhaitham offered, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Yes, please, show me your most delicate princess wave.”

“Can’t do that. They’d faint.”

“Honestly, seeing those hip windows they might”, Kaveh muttered back and Alhaitham’s jaw tensed. He knew he wasn’t supposed to move his left arm much but he couldn’t help but brush his thumb over Kaveh’s hand still clutching at the side of his thigh. The tension in the blond’s shoulders melted slightly. “What are we doing, Haitham?”

“Getting through this. And then through whatever they throw at us next. And so on”, saying it like this, it sounded easy. One step at a time without history attached, the moment theirs to conquer. Them working as a team, ignoring the scorched earth between them, dancing despite blisters on their feet. They both knew it wouldn’t be like this. But tonight, it might.

Their chariot drove into the arena and the crowd roared upon their entrance. Lights flickered, fanfares sounded, and the huge monitors distributed throughout the Colosseum announced their names and district on the screen before the spotlight caught up to them.

“Now”, Alhaitham commanded and lifted his left arm. Kaveh followed, their movements in sync.

Some thread under his arm came loose, he felt tension and then felt it snap. He wanted to curse Lumine when suddenly, dark feathers erupted from his left arm, forming a perfect arc, a perfect wing that framed Kaveh’s glowing side. The wing ran up into something sharp and pointed, grey feathers in between the brown that matched his metallic eyeshadow; the wing of an eagle.

Kaveh’s splayed arm revealed a second wing, so different from Alhaitham’s, feathers in glowing red and yellow, the canvas of sunset and sunrise in one, the colors of one of the rare Paradisaeidae birds his family was named after. Contrary to Alhaitham, his bodysuit adapted the same colors. Though no feathers spread over it, the fabric glossed from white to blue and red, Alhaitham saw it in the monitors as they rushed into the arena.

Up in the air, in their close-up for the whole world of Teyvat to see, Lumine’s and Aether’s vision came to life. Due to the lightning, Alhaitham was almost invisible behind Kaveh, the blond outshining him whole with the symphony of colors caressing his toned body, the tight bodysuit leaving little to the imagination. But then there was Alhaitham’s arm, shielding the view from a certain angle. Hovering, protecting, threatening.

It was the retelling of their Reaping Day. Kaveh stepping up for them all, catching the sun and the heartbreak, playing them, making them mourn what they might lose and Alhaitham, the shadow of stoic determination and brutal possessiveness right behind him. A bird of prey, which would hunt down the songbird any day - but now they flew in sync, soaring into the arena and catching the hearts of the Fatui with ease.

On the screens, Alhaitham saw Kaveh smiling but it was forced; if it was the outfits, the chariot or the overwhelming crowd he didn’t know but even the blinded Fatui would notice something was off. Alhaitham moved his free hand and put it on Kaveh’s waist, the red color of his bodysuit sticking to his fingertips.

“Look at me, Kaveh.”

“She said we shouldn’t move”, he pressed out but his weight slightly shifted against Alhaitham.

“Trust me”, it was neither a command nor a plea, rather an invitation. Kaveh didn’t hesitate. He turned his head, his arm still splayed but his nose brushing against Alhaitham’s with how close they were. The arena became a roar of noise but it didn’t matter for Alhaitham’s heart drowned out every other sound, pounding heavily against Kaveh’s back.

His eyelids were sprinkled in red glitter, his cheeks carrying a rosy bloom and his lips slightly parted, equally shiny and glossy. Their breaths mingled due to their closeness, almost dragging each other in like waves of an ocean they couldn’t afford to enter. Alhaitham ignored his own warnings and tilted his head so Kaveh’s face was still in the spotlight, making it look like they were one sigh away from giving into a kiss.

“Haitham—”, his name rolled off Kaveh’s tongue like ember, sizzling red. Like twin statues, they held their positions, even as they reached the peak of the arena, where the Tsaritsa and her Harbingers, the Gamemakers, would welcome them.

None of them was allowed to see the Tsaritsa’s face. Tributes weren’t worthy to be in the presence of the Archon of Love and yet they were being watched, assessed by her out of the shadows, up there on an alcove.

The moment the Gamemakers would catch a clear line of sight, Alhaitham moved his arm and lifted his wing to veil Kaveh’s body and face from view. His own body followed, stepping forward to cover up Kaveh’s side completely.

“What are you doing?”, Kaveh’s question prickled over his lips. Alhaitham knew, to the crowd it might look like they were kissing. That sinister possessiveness coiling in his gut, a beast desperate to lunge at every Fatui in sight, almost purred at the thought. But on the outside, his face stayed blank.

“I’m bringing you home”, Alhaitham said, this time with finality. Not only to Kaveh but to the rest of the world. The wing wrapped around him was a clear statement. To even think about plucking Kaveh’s feathers, they had to fight him.

It was the first time Kaveh didn’t protest, just stared up at him. His pupils grew wide and shiny as they fixated on Alhaitham’s face. He lowered his arm and automatically tucked in his wing, now completely eclipsed by Alhaitham’s presence. The blond shuddered against him and clawed both hands into his chest.

They stayed like this as the chariot brought them out of the Colosseum, ignoring the other tributes and the crowd. Even stayed like this, holding onto each other, holding onto something neither dared to speak out loud, when the chariot came to a halt and their team approached them with agitated voices.

With the glitter scrubbed off his face and skin flushed from an excessive shower, Alhaitham lounged on the huge bed of his designated bedroom, stretched out like a jungle cat. Instead of watching tonight’s program on the TV mounted to the wall, broadcasting the grand entrance of the tributes, he observed Snezhnaya by night.

The city was thrumming with life, the streetlights creating veins of gold. Huge billboards advertised perfumes and fashion, all of it looking more like costumes than clothes to Alhaitham and of course, they flashed with the latest news about the tributes. His eyes flicked away from the displays whenever something about him and Kaveh threatened to appear. Alhaitham sighed into his pillow and wrapped his arms around it. He was in nothing but dark boxers, although his bathroom offered him a dozen robes of different sizes and materials.

The obnoxious display of wealth made him furious. Offering it to the tributes, the tokens in their cruel games, was even more of a slap in the face. Kaveh had gushed about the luxury all day but Alhaitham had seen the mask crack during their chariot ride. He balled his hand to a fist, jaw clenched. Neither of them was equipped to deal with this.

And the Fatui knew that. Why else were there no handles on the windows? Why else did the kitchen consist of drawers that could only be unlocked by servants? Why else were all the edges of the furniture soft and cushioned?

They wanted them to die but not before a camera was able to capture it on the big screen.

Alhaitham pressed his face into his pillow and muffled a scream. He heaved against the fabric before sinking his teeth inside, fighting against the acid churning in his stomach. All the pent-up anger and despair escaped him at once, his throat feeling like it was tearing apart for he never allowed himself to lose control like that.

Someone knocked at his door and Alhaitham sat up immediately, shoving the pillow off the bed.

“Yes?”, he asked, voice something tender.

The door opened slowly and revealed Kaveh on the threshold, dressed in an oversized white shirt and boxers, hair damp from his shower. He was clutching a pillow against his chest as if Alhaitham didn’t have a dozen of them on this depressingly big bed already.

“Hey”, Kaveh gave him a crooked smile, the weakest one of the day. He looked like a marble statue about to crumble into pieces and Alhaitham didn’t even notice how he slid to the edge of the mattress to catch him, just in case. Kaveh approached the bed, posture sunken and haunted. “I couldn’t sleep and Tighnari is still at a mentor party or something like that.”

“I see.”

“Can I…”, Kaveh averted his gaze, staring at the TV screen currently showing off the Colosseum. “…stay with you tonight?”

He thought of the night before Reaping Day, where he had shut Kaveh out in the hopes of him never even setting foot in the arena. Something that had felt like relief and torture in one because Alhaitham couldn’t afford for them to get entangled like this. But when he saw Kaveh’s eyes glittering with unshed tears, the anxiety pressed to every line of his face, he knew it was too late for that.

He could lie to the world but not to himself—he was here to save him. He was already woven too deeply into his soul.

Alhaitham avoided a verbal answer, afraid his voice was still laced with that bruised, vulnerable softness but he plucked the pillow out of Kaveh’s hands and put it to the others before he lay back down, patting the space beside him.

Chapter 5: amber aches

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIVE - AMBER ACHES

“Losing you would crush them. Losing me won't matter." - Haitham

“One…err, Snow-Covered Kiss?”, Tighnari read off the menu and shifted nervously on the barstool, unsure where to keep his tail to not bother the other people at the opening party. Sponsors and mentors mingled in the so-called sky lounge, sharing drinks and gushing over their newest tributes. Several screens played the tribute entrance on loop and Tighnari watched while he waited for his drink to be made.

The tributes of District 10 drove into the arena in costumes resembling a miner’s outfit covered by coal and dust because that was what District 10 provided for the Tsaritsa: Minerals and coal and jewelry from the depths of the red desert. It did the women no justice, who were both dark-skinned, muscular and proud, beautiful despite the horrendous fashion choices made for them.

Tighnari perked up, studying them. Those were Cyno’s tributes. Dehya and Candace. Both over 18 and both looking vicious enough to make it far.

His drink appeared in front of him, cherry liquor and soda, powdered sugar sprinkled on top. Every co*cktail on the menu was named by the Tsaritsa and the Fatui ate it up. He took a sip. It was disgustingly sweet.

“Who would’ve guessed the murderous, quiet type would have trouble getting sponsors. I’d laugh if it weren’t so sad”, Ningguang, slid onto the stool next to him. She twirled her wine glass and gestured to the other end of the lounge. Tighnari followed her gaze and saw Cyno talking to a small group of sponsors. Whatever he said caused them all to turn away, ignoring him to tend to Yae Miko instead, who, as usual, hogged the most attention.

“It’s his first time. He’s talented with a spear, not with gossiping Fatui, so what?”, Tighnari didn’t know where the protective bite in his tone stemmed from but it was enough for Ningguang to arch a well-groomed brow. As always, her face was reserved but not unkind. Tighnari would like her more if she didn’t align herself with Yae so much.

“See, there’s the problem. He killed too many. He’s too murderous. The Fatui don’t want to be reminded of the horrors of their games. They want pliant victors who can become their darlings. And, considering Cyno usually threatens people when he opens his mouth, they rather flock to someone like Miko or Ayato, or, well, me.”

“Xiao always gets sponsors even though he’s the embodiment of a haunted spirit.”

“Oh yes, but District 4 has won the most games so that’s a given. Everybody can steer a priced horse toward another ribbon, it’s all a matter of perception. Cyno comes here without a connection and without willing to make one”, Ningguang hummed and crossed her legs, taking another sip of her wine. “Which, by the way, darling, you’ve been letting slide.”

“I’m not interested in making any new connections”, Tighnari’s fox ears flattened to his head, revealing his irritation despite him trying to sound polite. A certain snark always slipped past him when he was talking to other mentors during the games, ever unsure if they were supposed to become friends or remain rivals. Ningguang seemed intrigued by his answer and clinked their glasses together with her enticing smile.

Truth was, after Collei’s name had been called, Tighnari didn’t trust anyone. He knew it hadn’t been a coincidence.

“Suit yourself”, Ningguang shrugged and ordered another wine. “I thought you’d be all over the sponsors considering who your tributes are.”

Tighnari said nothing, just emptied his glass and pulled a face at the syrupy sweetness sliding down his throat. He abandoned the ridiculous drinks branded by the Tsaritsa and ordered a whiskey instead.

“Ah, here comes our psychopath.”

“Don’t call him that”, Tighnari hissed between his teeth as they both watched how Cyno, ignored by the people surrounding him, now walked toward them. His mouth was pulled into a deep frown, brows angled; he looked like he was about to punch someone. Ningguang was right, charisma wasn’t his strong suit. And yet—there was something about him that exuded an almost gravitational pull, making it impossible for Tighnari to avert his gaze.

“Good evening, Tighnari”, Cyno’s voice was like the purr of a jungle cat, all rasp and grating and Tighnari held onto his tail surreptitiously because it had the sudden urge to wag. Behind him, Ningguang chuckled into her wine glass before she swiftly excused herself. They both watched her stroll to the sponsors that had formerly shunned Cyno, inserting herself into their conversation with ease.

“Hey, Cyno”, Tighnari forced a smile. “Do you want a drink?”

“Yes. Whatever you are having.”

“Sure”, Tighnari ordered him a whiskey of his own and tapped the wooden tabletop to calm his jittery nerves. The Fatui might be afraid of Cyno but Tighnari wasn’t. His heart skipping every other beat had another reason—one he wasn’t sure he should even explore. So he handed Cyno his drink and focused on his own whiskey. The alcohol from before already caused his fingertips to prickle with anticipation.

“So, how did your first night gathering sponsors go?”

“Terrible”, Cyno observed Ningguang and Yae working their charm and took a sip of his whiskey. His wrist twirled the glass and the lightning-shaped scar on his hand danced with the movement. Heat simmered in Tighnari’s stomach. “I don’t understand what I did wrong. I asked them, plain and simple. They didn’t seem to like that.”

“Oh, yeah, the Fatui want to be wooed.”

“Wooed”, Cyno echoed, scrunching up his nose in confusion.

“It means you can’t simply go up there and ask them. They want a conversation, want you to make them feel important and needed. So they can be your saviors”, Tighnari spat the last words out in disgust and drowned their taste in more whiskey. Cyno turned himself away from the crowd and faced him instead, elbow propped up on the counter and chin bedded on his palm.

“I see.”

“It’s kind of like building a brand”, he hated how he sounded like one of them but he also didn’t want Cyno to stay clueless when it came to mentoring because no one else bothered to help him. “Take me for example. I won my games quite young so when I returned as a mentor, it was easy to gather support. People were more inclined to donate because they had pity on a child, even if that child was a murderer. But when I grew older and new victors appeared with every following year, the excitement faded. At home in District 12, I was a forest ranger. The job gained me a lot of knowledge which I used to survive in the arena. I could identify poisonous plants and use them to my advantage, I even managed to decipher their artificial mutations of flora and fauna. Some of the Fatui are really into that. So I tend to go directly to that group; they are nature enthusiasts like me and love to hear me talk about the jungle. We’ve built a reliable connection over the years, which I can use to get my tributes what they need.”

“So you talk to them about trees and they sponsor your tributes’ medicine?”

“Kind of, yes”, Tighnari was unsure what to make of Cyno’s serious, analyzing expression.

“I guess it’s important to educate people about trees. They can be quite shady.”

Tighnari almost choked on his whiskey. He pressed the glass to his lips and stared at Cyno in disbelief. The other held his stare with his stoic, earnest expression, not giving a thought away so it was left to Tighnari to knock on his chest and catch his breath.

“Did you—was that…a joke?”

“Yes”, Cyno nodded, voice so emotionless Tighnari snorted at the absurdity of the situation. Cyno, holding the Hunger Games kill record of all time, was joking about trees with him. “It’s because trees provide shadow but the mutated trees of the arena can be dangerous and—”

“No, no, I got that”, Tighnari waved dismissively. “It was just a terrible joke.”

“Your love for trees might cloud your judgment”, Cyno offered and Tighnari had to hold onto the countertop to not fall off his barstool from suppressed laughter. Cyno’s hand darted out to prevent his descent, catching him by his shoulder. The touch was brief but static, like lightning puncturing his skin before Cyno jerked his palm away with a muttered apology. Tighnari’s tail curled around the leg of his barstool and he needed a moment to find his composure.

The whiskey must have gotten to his head already.

“Okay, new strategy. You don’t start your pitch with a joke”, Tighnari decided, cheeks warm from the alcohol and the fierce glint of Cyno’s eyes observing him intently. “More like, with a lighthearted icebreaker.”

“I cy-no difference.”

“No! Stop!”, Tighnari’s voice broke into a squealing laugh, catching the attention of the people around them. The bartender cast them a knowing smirk and focused on customers on the other side of his counter and Tighnari ignored Yae’s calculating stare from across the room by emptying his glass. He leaned closer until their shoulders bumped together and his long hair cascaded down the side of his face, shielding them from view. “No more jokes, I beg you.”

“If you insist”, Cyno’s lashes were mesmerizing, long and white as snow, surrounding blazing eyes that fanned the embers in Tighnari’s stomach with ease. He tilted his head, still observing, staring at Tighnari like he was the most interesting person in the room. Which, Tighnari knew, he was not.

The amount of important Fatui politicians and celebrities in the lounge was dizzying and yet Tighnari made no move to seek them out. Cyno’s jokes were awful but they made him laugh. He didn’t remember his last laugh, straight from his chest, snorted and a little ugly. Alive.

“Oh, I do. No more wandering off tonight”, Tighnari decided and trailed his fingers along the rim of his empty glass to have something to do with his hand. He was light-headed, feeling almost airy. Desperate to taste his own laughter again. Almost desperate for another horrendous pun so he had an excuse for it. But Cyno kept his word and stayed quiet, though present.

He was smaller than Tighnari, merely one or two inches, but he looked—he looked lethal. Even without knowing what he had done, Tighnari saw the roughness of his hands, the faded bruises from training, the prominent veins on his forearm. Tighnari bit his lip, realizing he was staring.

“If you want to, I can introduce you to some people. Sponsors, I mean.”

“I’d like that. I knew what was supposed to happen in the arena but this—”, he described the packed lounge with a vague gesture. “—is a bit overwhelming. People are not my strong suit.”

“Well, Fatui are a special kind of people to be fair. I also struggled in the beginning”, he was still trying to defend Cyno and still unsure why. All he knew was that coming here as a new mentor, entering the Snezhnayan ecosystem bursting with intrigue and secrets regarding their beloved victors, was like the Tsaritsa had created Tighnari’s personal hell. He didn’t want Cyno to have to go through the same.

So he started to talk about his own sponsors, Haypasia and the other biology nerds he had won over years ago, explained how sponsoring worked, with the items being quite cheap at the beginning of the games while going up in price the longer they lasted. Cyno listened intently, his eyes not even straying whenever he took a sip of whiskey and Tighnari more often than not had to remind himself to finish a sentence because it was so easy to get lost in Cyno’s attentive gaze.

“Do you want another?”, Cyno asked when the people started to trickle out of the lounge and the lively atmosphere soaked into something more intimate. He got the bartender’s attention, who silently filled up Cyno’s glass again, then halting over Tighnari’s.

Tighnari knew he shouldn’t. He wasn’t an experienced drinker, alcohol being illegal in District 12, and he had a responsibility for his team. But he nodded anyway, his fluffy ears turning toward Cyno as the other ordered for him as well, that deep, raspy voice creating a tingle down his spine to the base of his tail.

They clinked their glasses together and let them linger long after the sound had faded. Cyno turned far enough on his barstool that his knees bumped against Tighnari’s thigh. But when the bartender left them to it and Tighnari realized they were the only two people still left at the counter, his lips hesitated against the rim of his glass.

“I probably shouldn’t.”

“That’s fine. I didn’t want to tempt you”, he said so sincerely, Tighnari felt guilty for his own thoughts. Because there wasn’t much reason left and the part still present was murky, amber liquid on his tongue, the faint but alluring promise of Cyno’s calloused palms on the fur of his ears and the slope of his neck, the daring reverie to taste the whiskey straight from his lips.

He slammed the whiskey glass on the counter with so much force, the liquid sloshed over the rim.

“I’m sorry, I promised Nilou we would go over the schedule together, y-yeah—good night, Cyno. We’ll see each other tomorrow, I’m sure.”

He didn’t wait for an answer but fled the lounge, forgetting about sponsors and the other mentors and feeling Cyno’s scorching gaze in his back.

In the elevator up to District 12’s suite, Tighnari stared down his reflection with hazy, reproachful eyes. He was no stranger to desire but a flame this intense scorched the length of his throat in the best and worst way. He usually took care of those urges by himself. He was no virgin; there had been flings in the past but most of them had been a disaster.

He yearned for hands all over him only until they brushed over the parts that were no longer him.

Then he was trapped inside his body and a detached voyeur at the same time. And then he was in the arena again, fight or flight, neither appropriate for a consensual hook-up. Of course, he ached for someone like Cyno, another victor, and a ruthless one at that—who would perhaps understand and be able to smother the demons trying to join his fantasies every other night. There was no doubt Tighnari’s body was aching for someone’s touch, feeling so incredibly lonely whenever the thought of losing Kaveh and Alhaitham crossed his mind.

But it couldn’t happen. It was too dangerous.

Tighnari cast his reflection an agonized look before he left the elevator and sought out the dim, healing darkness of their suite.

There was a whole city to explore, one that seemed to never go dark despite the hour, with more electricity used on one skyscraper than District 12 ever had had for themselves but Kaveh and Alhaitham lay next to each other instead. Both on their backs, staring at the ceiling. The only part of the room not drenched in flickering lights demanding their attention, the barren white enough to ground Kaveh.

At least, that was what he told himself. Because deep down he knew, it was Alhaitham’s presence grounding him. His weight softly dipping the mattress, his scent lingering under the many soaps and perfumes their luxurious shower soaked them in without permission and the sound of his steady breathing.

Alhaitham’s presence had been what had kept him from a full-blown anxiety attack on that chariot. Being dressed up was something Kaveh enjoyed, getting attention out of it was flattering, it was polite to smile at that, right? But this? This had been overwhelming in the worst way.

Because what were they celebrating? How pretty they looked before slaughter?

So when Alhaitham had wrapped his wing around him to drown out their sensational screaming and penetrating eyes, Kaveh had allowed himself to sink into the blue of his eyes, that ocean with a glint of ember, pulling him under, challenging him every other day but not tonight. Tighnari was here with them but Alhaitham was the constant keeping him afloat. Absolute, rigorous, safe.

It was the reason why Kaveh was shy of talking about what had gone down between them during Reaping Day because what if he lost him through it? He knew they would go under but doing it alone—Kaveh felt like a coward for thinking it but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it alone.

“The highlight of tonight’s presentation was definitely District 12 if you ask the majority of Snezhnayans at the Colosseum! The pompous couple stole the show straight from District 7 with what seemed a boring, almost tasteless outfit in the beginning before showing off the District’s symbolism! Lyney, what do you think?”

“Well, Lynette, I think they could’ve been wearing whatever because no one is gushing about them because of their costumes! No, it was no doubt the grand gesture of Alhaitham Volans, shielding his partner from view.”

“Almost like a challenge, don’t you think?”

“For sure. But of course, not to our Archon of Love! I think it was a warning for the other tributes to dare take Kaveh from him - remember, the drama of District 12 during Reaping Day? I think we all swooned a little when Alhaitham stepped on stage to protect his partner.”

“You keep saying partner, I wonder if you know more than me?”

“Wishful thinking, I suppose! Although, I can’t wait for the interview to find out more about these two.”

“Indeed, Lyney, they are a stellar conclusion to the evening! And that’s a wrap! Thank you all for tuning in to this year’s entrance show at the Colosseum. Blessed be the Tsaritsa, our Archon of Love!”

The TV switched off automatically once the two young moderators in their flashy Fatui fashion finished their broadcast. Kaveh sat up slowly and stared at the now black screen.

“This is f*cking disgusting.”

“You only notice that now?”, it wasn’t an accusation but Kaveh had to brush it off like one because his nerves were raw, itching at the slightest sliver of anxiety. “These people are horrible, all of them.”

“Nilou seems nice.”

“It’s her job to be nice.”

“I don’t think so. I think she means it. On the train, she even brought me a sketchpad and pencil so I wouldn’t get bored.”

“And do you still have it?”

“No”, Kaveh bit his lip. “They confiscated the pencil as a potential weapon. Ridiculous, eh?”

“Considering how clumsy you can be, it seems justified.”

“Oi!”, Kaveh let out a disbelieving snort, surprised Alhaitham would crack one of his dry jokes in a moment like this. He grabbed the nearest pillow and tossed it at him but before it smacked the other in the face, Alhaitham snatched it and threw it right back. Kaveh pressed it against his stomach and slung his arms around it. He hadn’t put on his binding tape before he came here and even though Alhaitham knew him well, he still was self-conscious his sweatshirt wasn’t big enough to conceil the soft mound of his pecs. “But for real, do they think we would kill each other with a damn pen?”

“It’s not to protect us from each other but from ourselves. Suicide, self-harm, can’t have that happen after you just paraded your pretty tributes around”, Alhaitham fell back into the many pillows and crossed his arms behind his head. Kaveh watched how his muscles flexed, eyes trailing from his defined chest down to the lines of muscle that were his abs.

“When did you get this buff?”, he blurted out, heat creeping up his neck.

“What are you talking about? You’ve seen me shirtless before plenty of times. It’s always been like this”, he wasn’t wrong about the first part, living together made them see each other in several states of undress. Kaveh was always a bit shy about it, making sure Alhaitham never saw his bare chest, and Alhaitham respecting it and averting his gaze whenever Kaveh changed clothes or scurried around in a towel.

“No it hasn’t”, he insisted, scrunching his brows. He didn’t want to admit that he knew about the details of Alhaitham’s physique, that he might steal glances when he stepped out of the shower to talk to him, mesmerized by how the drops ran down that broad chest but no, his arms were bigger too, more muscular and defined.

Alhaitham heaved a deep sigh. “Three months before every Reaping Day I triple my training schedule. In case your name gets called. Work on strength more than stamina, sword fighting, dagger throwing—”

“Did you say sword fighting?!”, Kaveh’s jaw must be slamming into the mattress with how startled he was, gaping at Alhaitham with eyes round as coin. “You’ve been training with a sword in our backyard and I didn’t notice?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I train at work.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes a lot more sense”, Kaveh let out a humorless laugh. Alhaitham was the appointed Scribe of District 12’s mayor, a job more pro forma than anything. He took over the paperwork, which was so scarce, that he spent most of his time reading in Mayor Azar’s office or, apparently, sword fighting. “Are you serious? You actually know how to use a sword? Where did you even get one?!”

“My grandma had one.”

“Nana Volans was an assassin?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kaveh”, Alhaitham rolled his eyes. “Assassins don’t use swords.”

“I don’t know anyone who uses swords.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention. It’s the weapon of choice for District 1 tributes. They are going to be our strongest enemies, most likely, so it was logical to train for the worst case of having to face them. You don’t train to be on par with the weakest link, after all”, he said it like it was indeed the most logical thing to use one’s breaks at work to practice sword fighting and throwing daggers in case you were reaped for the Hunger Games. No, wait—

“You do it in case my name gets called”, he recited Alhaitham’s words from before. He saw those broad shoulders tense as Alhaitham slowly sat up to properly face him, both of them cross-legged on the bed now. “This was never about Collei.”

“Not for me, no”, why did it sound like a confession? Alhaitham was as breathless as he had been in the Colosseum, pressed up against him, burning straight into Kaveh’s core. “I knew you traded your name like it was Mora at the black market. Someone had to protect you.”

“And yet I’m still here”, he concluded, a numbness carving into his chest. Alhaitham said nothing. “Would you have volunteered for Collei if I hadn’t?”

“No.”

“But she’s—”

“Your name could’ve been the second. That’s why I told you not to volunteer.”

“But then it would have been Collei and you here.”

“And I would’ve done everything to bring her home to Tighnari and you. But that’s not what this is about. As long as there was a possibility of your name being called, I had to focus on that and nothing else.”

“She’s family, Haitham.”

“And you are—”, whatever wanted to slip past his lips, didn’t. Was held back by gritted teeth and a frustrated scoff. Alhaitham’s eyes flicked downwards before they found Kaveh’s again, the stare hard as steel yet allowing him a glimpse.

“I’m what?”, Kaveh asked and it felt as if his voice was tugging at every thread that composed them.

“You’re everything”, something melted in Kaveh’s chest like wax from a candle, something that had never been allowed to be touched. The warmth crested, enveloping his roaring heart and Kaveh was one second away from reaching out to him, when Alhaitham continued. “To District 12, you’re everything. You keep them alive, with everything you do. Losing you would crush them. Losing me won’t matter.”

“It will matter to me. If that’s your reasoning, then you are an idiot. Do you think if you got me home, it would still be a home? Do you think I’d still be able to exist without you? I’d start a mural in your name and wash the paint away with my grief. It would destroy me.”

His hand ghosted over Alhaitham’s arm, drawing over the lines of muscles hidden underneath the softest skin. He imagined those muscles strained while holding a sword, imagined the milky skin tainted with crimson.

“What if—what if we make to the end? If there’s only the both of us left?”

Alhaitham’s forearm flexed at the question and the lifted his hand, smoothing his palm against Kaveh’s cheek as he had once before. Only now there was no alcohol blurring his vision, nothing but Alhaitham’s touch to have his heart beat fast. Alhaitham’s thumb brushed over his cheekbone and then his hand threaded into Kaveh’s still damp hair eclipsing his nape. Alhaitham placed his chin on top of Kaveh’s head, leaving Kaveh to breathe him all in, face buried against Alhaitham’s neck, from the luxurious rosewater soap to hints of camellia and something dark and steady that was pure Alhaitham.

“Ghorbonet beram”, Alhaitham whispered, speaking the language of their forgotten Archon, fractures of the love of thousands before them, when District 12 had been a part of Sumeru, when Hunger Games hadn’t existed.

The language was forbidden but the eldest had carried it on. Kaveh knew snippets from his parents and the parts that were ingrained in their culture to this day, like the names of certain dishes and plants, but Alhaitham spoke it fluently, taught by his grandmother before she had passed. Even with his scarce knowledge, Kaveh was sure of the weight of those words. He didn’t know what they meant but he knew Alhaitham didn’t use the language lightly. Had never used it out loud since his grandmother had died.

Kaveh burst into an overwhelmed sob and buried the tears in Alhaitham’s neck. Strong fingers held onto his nape and his hair and then Alhaitham was pulling him along and together they landed on the mattress. His other arm wrapped around Kaveh like it had when dressed as a wing and the touch was feathers caressing his skin and claws cutting him open in one.

“We’ll find a way”, Kaveh hiccuped between sobs, shaking like a leaf in Alhaitham’s embrace. “If we make it to the end—I’m not leaving without you, I can’t, Haitham, I won’t—”

Alhaitham’s answer came in the form of grabbing him tighter, arms now wrapped around him and Kaveh urged him to heighten the pressure until his skin hurt from it. Lashes wet, he kept himself hidden in the crook of Alhaitham’s neck, salty tears slowly overriding the other’s scent.

It was the first time they held each other like this, sobbing, shaking, unraveling and Kaveh hated it; hated for it not happening sooner, hated for how it struck him down to the marrow and how he would never get a chance to etch his name into Alhaitham’s bones because there was no time.

But in yearning, time didn’t matter. He knew the feeling now that had festered in his chest ever since—ever since Alhaitham had been that constant in his life, something fierce and vivid to lean on, some days the reason Kaveh moved the brush over his canvas, other days the reason he wanted to shatter vases.

Kaveh wept into Alhaitham’s neck until sleep stole him away.

Chapter 6: the treasure hoarders

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIX - THE TREASURE HOARDERS

“If you find yourself lonely in the arena, you know where to find us." - Kaeya

“Kaveh! What happened to your face?”, Nilou squeaked when Alhaitham and Kaveh emerged from his room the next morning. The blond looked ruffled, with dark circles under his eyes, which were still blotchy from crying himself to sleep in Alhaitham’s arms. They both had pointedly ignored the vulnerability of last night and decided to not confront their agonized hearts before coffee, so Kaveh plopping down at the breakfast table still dressed in his sleep shirt and boxers in his rumpled state was enough to shock the overly correct Nilou.

“Couldn’t sleep”, Kaveh yawned and mumbled his thanks to a servant filling his mug with freshly brewed coffee. Alhaitham had taken the time to shower and put on some more respectable clothes, which he had found in the closet. At least grey sweatpants and a hoodie neither had glitter nor feathers on them, though they felt almost sterile.

“I’ll give Aether a call so he can tend to your make-up before we head down”, Nilou already scurried about, her many bracelets clinking with the movement. Kaveh didn’t protest and hid another yawn in his coffee. Alhaitham sat down across from him, ignoring Tighnari’s curious glance. No doubt his friend had questions about them both sharing a bedroom for the night. And no doubt Alhaitham wasn’t keen on giving him answers.

“Why do we need make-up, I thought today the training sessions start?”

“They do. For the next three days, you’ll have a chance to impress the Gamemakers and your fellow tributes. You can develop new skills and form alliances, whatever you wish. I have prepared a short briefing”, Tighnari urged them to take their breakfast with them to the sofa and fired up the weird Fatui technology to project 3D holograms hovering in their midst above the coffee table.

“As you know, District 1, 4 and 7 are the only ones who train for the games even though it’s forbidden”, Kaveh made a sound but Alhaitham shot him a warning glare over his tea. “The Tsaritsa allows it because the Fatui have been very receptive to the idea of elite tributes. We call them the TreasureHoarders. They tend to occupy the Cornucopia with the supplies and hoard them for themselves. I strongly advise you to steer clear of them.”

Tighnari grabbed the remote. Translucent, 3D letters appeared in the air, spelling out District 1 and two names, Kaeya and Mika, together with their photographs.

“Kaeya is without doubt one of the biggest threats. He’s been trained in the art of sword fighting since he was five years old but is also proficient with axes, javelins and daggers. Mika is young but equally skilled. Rumors say he was trained by Kaeya himself. Knows how to use bow and crossbow.”

Tighnari pressed a button and it switched over to District 2. “Albedo, known to be incredibly smart. Will no doubt work more with the environment than weapons. Don’t underestimate him. His fellow tribute is another boy without fighting experience, Timaeus. A low threat.”

He glossed over two teenagers of District 3 with the same commentary, their young faces a brief glimpse accompanied by their names - Razor and Bennett - before showing them the portrait of a serious-looking woman from District 4.

“Yelan, another Treasure Hoarder candidate. Prefers the bow. Definitely a threat. She’s mentored by Xiao, who I still can’t read even after knowing him for five years. I heard Yelan refuses to work with the other tribute, 14-year-old Changchang because she sees her as baggage. That should tell you enough about her. District 5 are Ningguang’s tributes, Xiangling and Chongyun. Only Chongyun has fighting experience but Ningguang always acquires the most sponsors which gives her tributes an advantage, so definitely watch out for them. Low threat potential from District 6, two young teenagers without fighting experience.”

Alhaitham watched how Kaveh had to put down his coffee with trembling fingers when they glossed over those poor kids and their inevitable fate. He was pale around the nose, yet his gaze stayed fixated on the hologram.

“Which brings us to District 7. Yae’s tributes, Sara and Tomo. Both have trained for years for this opportunity. Apparently, Tomo has volunteered for a friend, just like you both, which makes him more humane than one would expect from District 7. However, I’d still advise you to not align yourself with him based on that. You can’t trust anyone in this game.”

Tighnari paused and the silence in the room became a deafening pressure when District 8’s girls came into view. “District 8. Shinobu, quite lethal with daggers, I’ve heard. And—Sayu, 11-year-old, low threat potential…”

Tighnari’s voice broke off and Kaveh looked like he was about to vomit. Alhaitham leaned back in his seat and put a hand on Kaveh’s shoulder to steady him. He squeezed the tensed muscles and let the touch linger, indulging it for one, two seconds too long before he pulled away.

“District 9 also doesn’t have fighting experience, although I’ve heard that Thoma is one of the favorites of the Fatui due to his charming aura. This brings us to District 10, Cyno’s tributes. Candace and Dehya.”

Tighnari hesitated, staring at the women’s portraits projected into their living space. Alhaitham’s interest was piqued. They looked like fighters, hardened eyes, hardened shoulders. “We all know how deadly Cyno was last year. I don’t know if his tributes are of the same kind. I’ll try to find out, though. Dehya definitely knows how to handle a weapon.”

“And lastly”, Tighnari sighed. “District 11. I overheard Faruzan, their mentor, saying the girl, Layla, had a panic attack yesterday and the boy is only 12 years old. I don’t think they will pose much of a threat to you.”

“Do we have to form an alliance?”, Alhaitham asked as soon as Tighnari was finished with his presentation. His friend arched a brow, clearly with his mind elsewhere, that calculating haze in his green eyes.

“No. But I’d recommend it.”

“You didn’t team up with anyone in your games.”

“I didn’t”, the words came hesitant, like frost coating Tighnari’s lips. “But I also didn’t go into the arena with the goal to save someone else. I played only for my own survival. If you want to protect Kaveh, you should consider it an option, at least.”

“I don’t need to be saved”, Kaveh spoke up but went ignored.

“So, who leaves that then? The Treasure Hoarders we shouldn’t trust? Or District 2, Albedo? District 8, Shinobu perhaps. And then, Cyno’s tributes. Those seem the only ones competent enough to not become a liability to us”, Alhaitham started to assess the situation, going through their faces in his mind once more.

“You’ll have time to think about it. Watch them during training and make conversation. Which brings me to the next point. What is your strategy for the group training?”

“I show them my brilliant skills with the bow after I knocked out District 1 in close combat with my secret martial arts technique”, Kaveh drawled, clearly agitated because he was being ignored. He slouched on the sofa, arms crossed in front of his chest. Alhaitham rolled his eyes but Tighnari looked like he had been punched in the face.

With his focus gone, all that was left was the bleak reality that Kaveh indeed had no fighting experience.

“There’s other stuff you can do”, Tighnari said after a loaded pause. “You can train with weapons or you can train your mind. There are working stations where you can learn how to craft traps and make a fire or learn how to camouflage yourself.

“Camouflage sounds good to me”, Alhaitham said, thinking about Kaveh’s painting skills. But the blond apparently took it as an insult because he huffed and pushed himself off the sofa.

“Oh, so I can hide in a tree while you run around with your sword to stab people and then yourself?”

“Precisely.”

“f*ck you, Haitham”, the door of the suite opened and Aether hurried inside, a make-up kit wedged under his arm. He looked from Kaveh’s exasperated expression to the rest of them too shocked to answer and was about to excuse himself when Kaveh threw his messy hair over his shoulder in dramatic fashion and grabbed the stylist by the arm to tug him into his room. “I’ll find the training hall myself, go ahead without me!”

His door fell shut with a slam so loud Tighnari pressed his palms onto his sensitive fox ears. His discomfort bled into rage when he pinned down Alhaitham with a bristling glare: “What the f*ck was that?!”

“The truth”, Alhaitham said, voice devoid of any emotion because all the emotion had been drowned in his pillow last night, soft cotton clinging onto the screams of mourning their old life.

If it meant only Kaveh could yell and be furious, then so be it. Alhaitham was convinced he could carry that weight, though he hoped the blond would come back to him tonight for there was nothing relieving the permanent pressure on his chest but making it an altar for Kaveh’s grief.

“Archons…”, Tighnari pinched the bridge of his nose. “So you are skilled with the sword, is that what Kaveh wanted to tell us?”

“I’ve been training in secret at work for the past four years, yes. The intensity of my schedule varied but whenever Reaping Day drew closer, I tripled my efforts. I don’t know if it’ll be enough to be on par with Kaeya but I’ll analyze his technique today and draw my conclusions and adjust if needed. Alas, I already told you on the train I was used to the sword.”

“I didn’t know you were that serious about it.”

“It’s about time you start recognizing it. Kaveh already understands what it means for us. You should, too. So your judgment as a mentor doesn’t get jeopardized by feelings.”

“Are you asking me to stop being upset that one of my best friends is going to kill himself to bring my other best friend home?”, Tighnari’s hands darted up in exasperation but then fell to his sides, defeated.

“Yes”, Alhaitham stood up, approaching him. When he had almost walked past him, he put a hand on Tighnari’s shoulder. “Because if I falter, you’ve to make sure I pull through with it.”

“Haitham, don’t—”

“I know it’s a lot to ask”, Archons, he really did. He clamped his eyes shut and tightened his resolve. “But I need you to do this for me. And him.”

He offered Tighnari mercy in the form of not waiting for an answer. Instead, he went into his room to get ready for the training session.

“Move over, kid”, Yelan was a tall woman with a sharply cut bob and even sharper eyes. She pushed her fellow teammate, a frightened girl of 14 years, aside and approached the shooting range first.

A lot of the tributes had already gathered at the gym when Alhaitham entered. There were various training stations, the shooting range at the end of the hall taking up most of the space, right next to a fighting ring. Shelves stacked with practice weapons of all kinds, from swords to axes to daggers to spears, covered the walls. On the other side of the gym, the less lethal practice stations were built up. Just as Tighnari had told them, one could learn how to build traps and brew poison, as well as get a lesson on tying knots and camouflage techniques.

Everything was overseen by the Gamemakers seated in a small alcove on top of the hall. The angle was too steep to make out their faces or even their presence, for all, their seats might be empty, but a presence lingered over them, all-seeing, all-knowing, stirring a cold, calm rage in Alhaitham’s gut.

While the tributes were occupied at their different training stations, Alhaitham remained in the middle of the room and observed. Yelan grabbed a bow from a stand and nocked an arrow. With her foot, she started the mechanism of the shooting range on maximum speed. Bright holograms of small rabbits appeared in the space around her, running and jumping without a clear pattern. They dissipated into motes of light when Yelan’s arrows hit them right in the eye, one after one, her hands a flurry of motion as she drained her quiver with perfect precision.

Alhaitham’s chest tightened. What use was a sword against this? She would become a problem, so he approached her, hands hidden in the pockets of his training suit. They all were wearing the same black tracksuit with their district numbers on their backs.

For a delirious moment, Alhaitham wished Kaveh was at his side. He was much better at socializing and connecting than him, played even the most bitter elders of their district with ease. He looked over to the camouflage station, where Kaveh was kneeling with the assigned teacher and the girls of District 8, Shinobu and Sayu.

They were mixing paint. Shades of green and brown stuck to Kaveh’s fingertips. Alhaitham’s breath caught in his throat. It was the Kaveh of their home, engrossed in his art in front of a canvas.

Meanwhile, the shooting program had finished and Yelan walked over to pick up her arrows. Alhaitham locked eyes with her; there was something feline and lethal about her as she squinted at him, radiating suspicion. Before he managed to introduce himself, the other Treasure Hoarders joined them. Kaeya, Mika, Tomo and Sara, District 1 and District 7, ignored Alhaitham’s presence and complimented Yelan’s technique.

“Nice shots. Care for some competition?”, Sara plucked a bow off the shelf and caught Yelan’s attention. The woman’s lips pulled into a smirk so fake Alhaitham expected it to peel off her face any second. Even the Treasure Hoarders were keeping up a farce. After all, their alliance was temporary. The games would crack open their darkest desires soon enough.

“Is there going to be a prize?”, Yelan asked.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Can I join?”, Mika asked, a rebellious lock of hair on the crown of his head bouncing almost comically. He looked much younger in real life than in his hologram. Alhaitham averted his eyes, still keeping his distance.

“Sure, why not? We can see if you’re worthy to keep around”, Yelan shrugged.

“You know damn well he is”, District 1’s older tribute, Kaeya, said with his smooth, honeyed voice as if all he did was exchange friendly banter instead of threats. He looked like he had already participated in the games with the eyepatch he wore over his right eye. Yelan laughed and slung an arm around Mika’s shoulders, guiding him to the shooting range.

Did they already all know each other? Or was this a farce as well?

“They’re such show-offs”, Tomo groaned and bumped shoulders with Alhaitham as if they were familiar with each other. It dawned on him then, that making contact with other tributes didn’t follow the usual social norms. He could’ve expected it, considering their friendships, or the ghost of one, were founded on an expiration date. “Sword fighting is much more fun, don’t you think?”

Kaeya finally turned away from Mika and the girls to observe him. His blue hair was dramatically swept to the side and he had gotten rid of the training jacket, showing off a tight, black tanktop and dozens of scars on his arms. Alhaitham assessed them, eyes darting around from Tomo to Kaeya in the hopes of finding their honest intentions by amusing themselves with him.

Tomo’s carefree nature was unsettling. His ash blond hair was tied into a high ponytail and his eyes were wide open as if inviting Alhaitham to read him like a book. Although he knew Tomo had volunteered for a friend and Kaeya seemed protective of Mika, Alhaitham hesitated. He didn’t want to be the fool falling victim to the cunning smiles of handsome strangers.

“I prefer to use critical thinking skills over brute force”, he mused, heeding Tighnari’s advice of not revealing anything too soon. But instead of brushing their stares off, his answer seemed to intrigue them even more.

“I would’ve expected no less. What about your partner?”, Kaeya asked with a smile, canting his chin at Kaveh, who was rubbing paint onto the nose of 11-year-old Sayu at the camouflage station. Alhaitham held back a frustrated scoff. Kaveh was painting his own tragedy with these girls for everyone to see. They couldn’t be vulnerable like that.

“He’s none of your business.”

“Mhm, interesting”, Kaeya grinned.

“Playing the protective role ‘til the end?”, Tomo tipped his finger against his nose as if they were both in on a joke. Alhaitham scowled at him. Mika and Yelan finished their shooting competition and made room for Sara to continue hers and suddenly, Alhaitham found himself surrounded by Treasure Hoarders. Though Mika was more focused on the archery, Yelan’s eyes were determined to drill through Alhaitham’s very bones.

Alhaitham muttered an empty phrase and decided to walk away; there wouldn’t be an alliance with these people. He would never be able to trust them and leaving Kaveh out in the open during the training session was a mistake, he knew that now. But then Kaeya’s hand landed on his elbow, stopping him.

“Oh, come on, it was a joke. A little banter to get familiar with each other”, Alhaitham was seconds away from jerking himself out of Kaeya’s grip with a few choice words, when Tomo appeared on his other side.

“Yeah, we’ve so little time together. Hey, how about we get some exercise in while the girls practice their shooting skills?”

“Slow down, Tomo. He obviously prefers painting pictures with his lover”, Kaeya chuckled darkly.

Yelan co*cked her head, observing every little twitch of Alhaitham’s face as he clenched his jaw. Tighnari’s voice echoed in his head but the warning was nothing but white noise by now. If he didn’t show them he was a threat, they would eat them both alive as soon as they set foot into the arena.

“Alright”, Alhaitham walked over to the weapon rack before he could change his mind.

His sudden, confident approach and Tomo’s excited squeal caught the attention of the other tributes. The District 2 tribute, Albedo, who had been busy balancing the weight of one of the practice swords on his wrist, offered it to Alhaitham when he approached, his face blank but his eyes covered in a familiar spark Alhaitham knew from himself. He was analyzing.

This gym was filled with dangerous, calculating people and he was about to expose himself in front of all of them. If he failed, he would doom them both. But if he succeeded, the target would shift from Kaveh onto him. So he stepped into the fighting pit and waited for Tomo to make his choice.

Tomo exchanged a whisper with Kaeya and jumped over the rope with the grace of a cat, lifting his own weapon. It was a katana, longer than Alhaitham’s sword, leading into a pointed tip. Alhaitham tasted the sweat on his upper lip. He had learned sword fighting from books and then had practiced by himself for years. He had never wielded the weapon against something other than a training dummy made of straw.

“Ready for some fun?”, Tomo called out, loud enough for the other people to draw closer in curiosity. In the corner of his eye, Alhaitham saw Kaveh abandoning the camouflage station with an expression of pure horror on his face.

“Stop talking and get in position”, Alhaitham demanded, not engaging in the banter. He needed all his focus for this as he leveled the practice sword in his grip. It was a lot lighter than the one he used at home. His retort enticed laughter from the room, the remaining tributes gathering around the fighting pit. His eyes flitted to Kaveh once more, who looked like he was about to climb over the rope to his side. Alhaitham ignored him.

No distractions.

Tomo adapted his fighting stance and lunged forward without further warning. He didn’t allow Alhaitham to analyze him but pressed on, stealing all the momentum. His feet twirled over the floor like they were reciting a dance, his blade as efficient as it was vicious. Alhaitham had trouble blocking the incoming strikes and had to abandon his technique within seconds because it was no match for Tomo.

He moved like a river, with grace but a hidden force not to be underestimated. He managed his resources well, whereas Alhaitham felt the weight of the practice sword whenever they clashed. It might be lighter than a real one but he had never caught another person’s strikes with the blade.

The other tributes gasped whenever Tomo’s katana lunged a little too close at Alhaitham’s throat. Tomo was circling him and then Alhaitham was pushed further and further into a corner of the fighting pit. Between the cheers and chants of the tributes, he heard Kaveh calling out to him.

Alhaitham was doing nothing but blocking and his muscles ached. Tomo laughed. The tributes roared. But one person was missing. Tomo’s teammate, Sara, had still turned her back toward the ruckus and continued to shoot the flashing holograms, aiming for a new record. It was the quickest program once again, the one that conjured sparkling, orange bunnies that flashed from one corner to the next.

“Haitham, watch out!”, Kaveh’s scared shouting tore him out of his observation in the last second. He swung his sword up in a wild arc and managed to block Tomo’s attack before the katana could hit him on the jaw. The hologram bunnies scattered away from Sara’s arrows. Their light flashed.

Alhaitham angled his blade and caught the light. And threw it right back into Tomo’s eyes.

The other tribute yelped in surprise and lost balance, blinded by Alhaitham’s sword. It was a mere fraction of a second but it was enough for Alhaitham to dash forward and hit Tomo’s fingers curled around his katana. The weapon dropped and Alhaitham kicked it aside, using his momentum to ram his shoulder against Tomo’s torso.

Tomo crashed to the ground and Alhaitham placed the edge of the blade under his chin.

“That would be the moment we hear the cannon shot.”

Tomo, still on the ground, chin canted upwards to escape the pressure, smirked.

“I underestimated you. You weren’t joking about the thinking part.”

Alhaitham scoffed and ducked under the rope out of the fighting pit. He put the sword away and Kaveh was at his side in an instant, swift as a hummingbird. He looked like he had fought himself, sweat on his brow, face laced with anxiety.

“Are you insane, that was—”

“You’re impressive, Haitham”, Kaeya’s voice created tension out of nowhere and silence hushed over the excited crowd. Kaeya announcing his opinion to everyone in the gym was akin to a threat. He exposed him for everyone to see, put a target on his back. And while Alhaitham had wanted it, to make clear they weren’t simply prey to be hunted, the weight of the other tribute’s gazes was like a boulder pressing onto his chest. “Kaveh can call himself very lucky for having such a talented knight at his side.”

“Kaveh can take care of himself”, Alhaitham said before Kaeya had even finished his sentence. He turned around to look at them. The younger tributes scattered like a flock of anxious birds.

“I’m sure he can”, Yelan smirked. She was leaning onto Tomo, her forearm placed on his shoulder as if they were old friends. Tomo tugged on a few of his hair strands that had come loose during the fight and grinned despite his loss.

“’s much more fun together, though”, he hummed.

“What are you implying?”, Alhaitham knew what they were implying. But he wanted to hear them say it out loud, for everyone to acknowledge. That the tributes of District 12 were deemed worthy of teaming up with the Treasure Hoarders.

“If you find yourself lonely in the arena, you know where to find us”, Kaeya grinned, one arm wrapped around Mika, hugging him to his chest like a little brother. Alhaitham said nothing. Yes, he knew where to find them. At the Cornucopia, near all the chests with the supplies, starving out the other tributes by hoarding them for themselves.

“Tsk. We don’t need them”, Sara had finally abandoned the shooting range. She almost came up to Alhaitham in height, arms crossed in front of her chest as she regarded them with a scowl. “He has made clear he’s only in this for his partner. He’s not trustworthy.”

“Well, I’m only here for Mika”, Kaeya pointed out.

“Oh, please, you are all here for yourselves”, Yelan cut through the bickering before it evolved into an argument. Sara scoffed and walked away without another word, Tomo on her heels, trying to soothe her. Yelan winked at Alhaitham before she sauntered after them. Kaeya’s smile was directed at Kaveh, who had kept unusually quiet during the whole exchange, and then joined his temporary companions.

Kaveh’s hand looped around Alhaitham’s forearm and the taller one let himself be tugged along, out of the gym. “Are you seriously considering an alliance with them?”, Kaveh asked under his breath. “Sara looked like she’ll murder us while we sleep the first chance she gets.”

“I’m not sure yet”, too big of a group wasn’t a safety net but a liability. And when the number of tributes in the arena dwindled and the alliance was about to split, Kaveh and Alhaitham would be the first to be targeted by the Treasure Hoarders. But he also wasn’t sure if keeping to themselves was the smarter choice, not after his mediocre sword-fighting performance. And then he didn’t know what the arena might look like. He might be able to feign an alliance to acquire supplies and then ditch the group. If he got his hands on medical supplies, food and a sword…

“Well, I learned some painting tricks today. Sayu was a lot more skilled than I imagined her to be! She’s so sneaky.”

“Who?”, Alhaitham asked, thoughts still occupied by his strategy.

“The girl from the camouflage station, Haitham! Are you even listening to me?”

“You want to form an alliance with the 11-year-old?”

“I didn’t say that”, Kaveh exhaled sharply but the emotions warring on his face were obvious. His hand slipped off Alhaitham and he quickened his pace.

“You can’t get attached, Kaveh.”

“I’m not”, he blurted out, sounding almost defiant. He pressed the button calling for the elevator and refused to meet Alhaitham’s gaze. “I just thought Sayu was insanely talented when it came to her technique. It’s an important skill to have. And well, teaming up with her would be better than playing friends with a bunch of bloodthirsty murderers.”

“We are not teaming up with a child.”

“You are so—”

“If you want to tell me I’m heartless again, I’ll go back inside and strike up an alliance with Kaeya immediately”, Alhaitham hissed and both of them flinched at the edge in his tone, his tongue slashing the vowels like a sword. The elevator appeared in front of them with a soft ding but neither of them moved. Kaveh’s shoulders started to shake.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“If we take in Sayu and we technically would make it through—if it came down to the three of us—”, Alhaitham left the rest unspoken but it hung over them like a guillotine. Alhaitham’s palms grew sweaty and he wished to be back in his room, to scream into his pillow until his vocal cords tore in two.

If it came down to the three of them, Kaveh, Sayu and him—Alhaitham didn’t want to know what he would do. What he was willing to sacrifice. How far he would go.

“It’s okay, Haitham. I’m sorry I said something. We won’t team up with her, I promise”, the blond said and stepped into the elevator, Alhaitham on his heels. He switched over to rambling about the art of camouflage and Alhaitham pretended to listen, the knot in his chest still wound too tight.

Kaveh focusing on non-combat skills was giving him a purpose, something to ease his nerves but Alhaitham worried he might need to show him at least a few combat moves in case they got split in the arena. Three days weren’t enough to learn sword fighting but self-defense, at least a few basics, yes, that might work. He needed to ask Tighnari. They could practice in private, never in public, where everyone was greedy to drink up every little one of their mistakes.

Before the elevator doors closed, a gloved hand slipped into the opening. Kaveh hurried to press a button so the machine halted.

A tall man with bright blue hair stepped in, his presence immediately filling up the cabin, suffocating and invigorating in one, as he loomed over them like a withering tree. Kaveh smiled in greeting but the smile slowly dripped off his lips when he noticed the stranger was wearing a mask.

His face was covered by a birdlike beak mask with golden and deep-blue accents. However, it was cut so sharp, it revealed the sides of his face and the edge of a hungry smile.

A Harbinger. One of the Gamemakers. He must have been watching during their training session. Like the Tsaritsa, the Harbingers’ faces were a mystery to the masses. Still, the mask was more of a stylistic choice than a cover-up, a display of the lavish, exaggerated Fatui fashion.

“Ah, what a lovely surprise to meet you here, District 12”, the deep tremor of the Harbinger’s voice rushed down Alhaitham’s neck like ice water and he resisted the urge to pull Kaveh behind him. There wasn’t much space to retreat to. The Harbinger ignored Alhaitham’s existence. Instead, his gloved hand reached for Kaveh’s. The fingers covered in dark leather curled around Kaveh’s delicate wrist and brought it up to the beak of his mask.

Pale lips breathed a kiss on Kaveh’s hand.

“You’ve been the talk of the Winter’s Palace. A truly scandalous performance you gave us at the Colosseum.”

The Harbinger tilted his head, left to right, the movement reminding Alhaitham of a bird’s, the unnerving smile still in place as he focused his attention on Alhaitham. Kaveh pressed his kissed hand to his chest with a flustered thanks. Alhaitham lifted his own hands to then pointedly cross them in front of his chest. The static smile turned into a smirk.

“I thought as the Head Gamemaker of the 99th Hunger Games I’d introduce myself. Sadly, my position doesn’t allow me to sponsor tributes but I can present them with opportunities for a better start in the arena.”

The Harbinger flicked his wrist and suddenly, two small envelopes glittered between his long fingers. He offered them and Alhaitham snatched them both.

“A private soirée, where the tributes with the most potential get a chance to shine in front of our most generous sponsors. If you feel tempted by it, use the phone in your suite and ask for Dottore. Food and drink are exquisite. And with you, the company will be too”, his last words were directed at Kaveh, the tone so silken and dangerous, goosebumps sprouted on the blond’s neck.

The elevator doors opened behind them and the Harbinger, Dottore, walked out without waiting for an answer. His long robes fluttered behind him and then the doors fell shut again and the elevator continued to bring them up to the highest floor.

Kaveh snorted a disbelieving, nervous laugh.

“Okay, I never want to hear that I’m dramatic from you again”, his cheeks were still flushed from the encounter and Alhaitham had the sudden impulse to cover them with his hands. “The Fatui are on a whole other level.”

“You’re a closed second”, Alhaitham’s mouth twitched into a brief smirk. He opened the envelope with his name on it and revealed a formal invitation to the said dinner party, signed by Il Dottore. “What do you think?”

“I think Tighnari mentioned the dinner before but it was more of a we are definitely not doing that kinda thing.”

“Oh, for sure”, Alhaitham hummed as they left the elevator and approached their suite. Before Kaveh could open the door, he held him back. Tighnari’s fox ears were too receptive for secrets, so Alhaitham shamelessly stole them a moment together. “Personally, I’m quite interested in who the other tributes with the most potential are.”

“Probably the Treasure Hoarders”, Kaveh pocketed his own invitation, immediately catching on that Alhaitham wasn’t keen on discussing their evening plans with Tighnari. “Do you think other Harbingers will be present as well?”

“Mh, and maybe they’ll be talkative around their favorite tributes and drunk on exquisit wine. Spilling secrets.”

“Oh”, Kaveh’s pretty lips pulled into a mischievous smile. “So we’re going.”

“We’re going.”

Chapter 7: tightrope walk

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SEVEN - TIGHTROPE WALK

“I’m the one pulling the strings on my puppets in the arena." - Dottore

He wanted to give Alhaitham and Kaveh some space even though a selfish part of him longed to bury himself in their arms, refusing to let them go. But when Kaveh had left Alhaitham’s room this morning, he knew they needed it more. If Alhaitham really had confessed to the blond, they should have all the time together they still had left.

So Tighnari was wandering around, long hair swaying around his hips and fox ears circling on his head whenever a noise startled him. There were a lot of sounds racking the tribute tower and he heard them all. Sometimes snippets of conversations from another room were whispered so clearly in his ear he understood every syllable. At home, he hid away in the jungle surrounding District 12 but here it was an onslaught of constant stimulation.

Tighnari had taken the elevator down to the basem*nt, where the tributes had spent the day training. Considering the hour, it should be empty, everyone relaxing and eating dinner in their suites or the Treasure Hoarders attending Dottore’s infamous sponsor party.

But when he opened the door to the gym, he wasn’t alone.

The fighting pit in the middle of the training hall was occupied by Cyno, shirtless, in nothing but sweatpants, even barefoot, as he maneuvered through his choreography, a spear in his hand. The weapon moved like a snake, surging forward whenever Cyno lunged, the mimicked stab precise and no doubt lethal. A knot formed in Tighnari’s throat when he recognized the movements from Cyno’s time in the arena. All his kills had been so swift, the cameras had shown them in slow motion, moderators gushing about the technique and the gore Cyno left behind without the blink of an eye.

Even now he didn’t blink. His eyes were ablaze and cold at the same time, alive but detached, as his feet twirled over the mat in an unhurried dance, spear spinning above his head before whirring near the ground. His chest was covered in a sheen of sweat and Tighnari’s eyes followed a single drop ghosting down the mound of Cyno’s defined pecs to the sheer endless wave of muscle that his body consisted of.

Cyno grunted, lifting his spear and pivoting on his heel. Without aiming for more than a second, he hurled the spear across the room at one of the targets of the crossbow station. The spear locked onto the red dot in the middle with a satisfying hum. Cyno rolled his shoulders, pacing in the fighting pit like a caged animal, breathing ragged.

“Cyno”, Tighnari decided to finally call attention to himself, now that the weapon was out of Cyno’s reach. Approaching a former victor while they were holding a weapon was never a good choice, after all, they all walked through their victory with their own demons. Cyno’s head snapped up and he adapted a fighting stance but when he saw Tighnari slowly entering the gym, hands splayed out, the tension in his shoulders relaxed.

“Good evening, Tighnari”, he sounded out of breath and raspy, like a coiling storm and Tighnari’s stomach swooped when the other easily jumped over the rope of the fighting pit and landed silently on the other side, approaching him. “Are you here for training too?”

“No, I—”, he had been so focused on Cyno, he hadn’t taken in their surroundings. All day the tributes had trained in the gym but now the weapons were stacked neatly, the floors freshly swept. Still, the atmosphere tugged at Tighnari from within and the lump in his throat grew bigger, pulsing, like something rotten. “Mentors aren’t allowed to train here, it’s only for tributes.”

“No one stopped me from coming in”, Cyno shrugged and started stretching, lifting his arms over his head and grabbing his elbow with one hand, chest puffed out. Tighnari took a step back, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I assumed it would be alright.”

Tighnari kept to himself that they were being monitored. No one passing that door did so in secret, cameras captured their every move. The chance of a tribute using the weapons for self-harm or suicide during late hours was too high.

“Also, if we aren’t allowed to train, then why are you here?”, there was no accusation in his tone, just curiosity. Something Tighnari didn’t understand. There was nothing interesting about him and yet Cyno stayed intrigued. His eyes grazed the slope of Tighnari’s neck up to the curl of his lashes - never straying, never observing his fox ears or the tail.

“I was looking for solitude”, whenever he was in Snezhnaya, Tighnari wrapped himself in as many layers of clothing as possible to not give the Fatui the feeling his body still belonged to them. But he couldn’t wear hats to conceal his fluffy ears because they hurt and his tail was too bushy to be stuffed into his pants - not to mention that it was uncomfortable. That didn’t stop Tighnari from wearing oversized pants and hoodie wherever he went, though.

“Oh”, Cyno stopped his stretching in favor of pulling the spear out of the target. “Then I better leave you to it.”

“No, you can—”, Tighnari’s voice broke and he cleared his throat, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’d like for you to stay if you don’t mind.”

“Sure”, he was balancing the spear on his outstretched wrist, the veins of his arms like lightning running over the skin and Tighnari couldn’t help but stare. With one flick, the spear was spinning in the air and then secure in Cyno’s grip. It moved like an extension of his arm, his rough, calloused palms smoothing against the handle as if he hadn’t done anything else his whole life.

“Would you like to spar?”

“Oh, no, absolutely not, that’s—”, it became harder to collect his thoughts and Tighnari didn’t know if it was because of Cyno’s technique, his muscular body on display or the fact that this gym had stirred up his PTSD in the worst kind of way. “I don’t touch them. Weapons, I mean. I can’t. Obviously, I once could but since the games, I—it was stupid coming here, I should—”

His heart was thundering up his chest into his throat, getting stuck but beating its wings like a vulture. Tighnari felt like suffocating and yet pressed the back of his hand against his mouth as if to choke it back down; his protective layers of clothing suddenly were confining, clinging to drenched skin as cold sweat broke in his neck.

“Tighnari”, it was when Cyno crouched down in front of him, Tighnari realized he was sitting on the floor. His pupils were blown wide and his upper lip trembled but no word would make it past the pressure in his throat. His gaze blurred and flickered back into focus every other second.

“I’ll help you up and get you away from the weapons now”, Cyno announced with his calm, sober voice, creating a small light in the dark dregs of his mind, enough for Tighnari to register he was clawing into his tail with clammy fingers.

Tighnari’s knees gave in the moment Cyno hoisted him upright but instead of falling, Cyno’s arm wrapped around his waist, keeping him steady. When it was clear Tighnari’s feet wouldn’t carry him, another arm looped around the back of his knees. Tighnari breathed out a choked noise when he was lifted. His tail curled up to cover him and Tighnari had the urge to bite into the tip of it but threw back his head instead. Tears that had gathered behind his eyes ran over his temples as he stared at the ceiling in shame while Cyno carried him out of the gym.

Whatever they had expected of Dottore’s suite, it wasn’t this. When they walked through the double doors opened by two servants and handed over their invitations, they found themselves in a ballroom, a giant chandelier illuminating the ceiling, sparkling lights floating down on the many colorful guests like snowflakes. And it was fitting, for it felt like entering a snow globe. Everything was glittering, sophisticated and mystical. Kaveh twirled on his feet in awe, eager to spot every little detail.

Sneaking out of their suite had been surprisingly easy but Kaveh had insisted to stop by their stylists Aether and Lumine to acquire adequate wardrobe for the occasion. So now they were dressed in suits, black velvet for Alhaitham, white for Kaveh, golden make-up framing his eyes like sunlight.

As grotesque as it was, Kaveh was jealous of the Fatui using even the smallest event to doll themselves up. He wished he had this much time and resources on his hands at home.

“Should we introduce ourselves to the host or do we just infiltrate the place and gather information?”, Kaveh asked and snatched a flute of champagne from a passing servant.

“Calm down, we’re not spies”, Alhaitham plucked the glass out of his fingers before Kaveh could take a sip and put it on another passing servant’s silver tray. “We’re not drinking.”

“Oh, you’re no fun. Don’t you wonder what Fatui alcohol is like?”

“I assure you, it’ll make you as drunk as the moonshine at home. And I really can’t deal with tipsy Kaveh tonight”, although he had claimed to be no spy, Alhaitham’s sharp eyes scanned the room like one. There was a huge buffet put up to their left, round dining tables set with luxurious silverware and cloth napkins. A dance floor took up most of the space, where ballgowns were flaunted around and jewelry caught the candlelight in a dazzling shine. A huge staircase led up to a gallery.

“What’s wrong with tipsy Kaveh?”, Kaveh smirked, the atmosphere so foreign and enticing, he had trouble keeping still. His fingers itched and since he couldn’t clasp them around a glass, he looped them around Alhaitham’s forearm. He expected to be brushed off with a dry comment but Alhaitham angled his arm and guided him deeper into the ballroom.

“Someone knows how to make an entrance”, Kaveh tried playing off the flutter in his chest but it was pointless. If anyone were to look, they would realize he was floating a few inches above the ground, charmed by the pompous music, the lavish clothes but, most of all, by Alhaitham being infuriatingly handsome in his damn suit. “People are gonna stare.”

People were already staring. Kaveh didn’t know how to identify potential sponsors but the Fatui looked at them as if they were a prize to be had, something to be gained. He cast a longing look at the champagne again and this time, Alhaitham sighed in defeat.

“Fine. One glass for your nerves”, Kaveh barely realized Alhaitham had led them to a bar in the corner, where five servants were busy serving drinks in record time. He spotted Kaeya lounging on a barstool, a glass of red wine in his hand and engrossed in conversation with a Fatui woman wearing a tiara on her head like some kind of fairytale princess.

“Archons”, Alhaitham muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Something strong if I’m only allowed to have one!”

“I’m getting you wine”, and with that, Alhaitham weaved himself through the Fatui flocking to the bar as if they were close to dying of thirst. Kaveh remained to the side and watched Alhaitham’s profile as he waited. The dark suit made his skin even paler, flawless marble, the real artwork of this room full of kitsch.

There was so much to see and yet Kaveh’s eyes were unable to stray far, glued to Alhaitham’s jawline, the slope of his neck and how his lips were slightly pursed in annoyance. So he didn’t notice when Dottore appeared next to him until it was too late.

“District 12, what a pleasure. You made it”, Kaveh flinched when a gloved hand reached for his wrist and once more, eerily cold lips were pressed onto his skin. When Dottore straightened his posture, Kaveh caught a glimpse of glowering red eyes through his mask. The nonchalant smirk was out in the open for everyone to see. “Do you care for a drink?”

“Actually, my—”

“Champagne?”, as if pulled from his sleeve, Dottore was holding out a flute of champagne toward him. Kaveh carefully took it, making sure his fingertips didn’t brush the leather of the glove. “Let me show you around.”

“I’m waiting for Haitham, he—”

“Oh, he’ll come find us then, won’t he?”, there was a hand on his back, steering him away from the shore and into the chaotic waters of a Fatui ballroom. Kaveh feared Dottore would want him to dance with him but he changed direction at the last possible moment and guided him to the staircase instead. Kaveh took a sip of champagne, the taste bitter, teasing the tongue.

Dottore stopped in front of the first step, holding out a hand. Kaveh gripped the glass so tightly, it must be one second away from bursting between his fingers. A small crowd gathered around them, curiously watching, vultures circling in. He looked over his shoulder but the bar was shielded from his view.

“I should go back”, he politely declined, pivoting on his heels when something tugged at his wrist. A warning, briefly there and long surpassed for now cold fingers snapped around it like a manacle.

“It’s incredibly disrespectful to decline the host a tour of his estate, District 12. You wouldn’t want me to remember you as a rude individual, would you? The Tsaritsa does not take lightly to insulting Fatui customs. It might cut your time here terribly short.”

Kaveh stared at Dottore’s hand locked around him and followed him up the stairs, heart thundering in his throat. At least up there, he would be easy to see. Easy for Alhaitham to find him.

“There’s our knight in shining armour”, Kaeya’s wine glass appeared in his periphery, swirling between nimble fingers before it softly clinked against the ones Alhaitham was holding. He had decided on wine for the both of them because the atmosphere here was overwhelming and yes, maybe he also was curious what Fatui wine tasted like. “Where’s your prince?”

“Where’s your squire?”, he snapped back and Kaeya’s grin pulled into a brief frown. He was sitting on his barstool like it was a throne and had abandoned his dolled-up company in favor of observing him. Alhaitham watched how the woman theatrically flicked her fan to gain Kaeya’s attention again and then gave up with a pout, disappearing toward the dancefloor.

“Mika’s too young for the boisterous parties of Dottore”, Kaeya said when she was gone. “Speaking of him, the Harbinger must have been impressed by your duel if you got an invitation. Here to stain that shining armor?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about”, Alhaitham took a sip of his wine. Smooth, sweet, with a cereal note. Kaveh would love it. He was about to look for him when he noticed the twitch on Kaeya’s face, pupil blowing wide with honest concern before it was hidden by his usual playful mask.

“Your mentor didn’t brief you?”

“He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Oh, well, isn’t that intriguing”, Kaeya emptied his glass and slid off the barstool. He was about a head smaller than Alhaitham but he was wearing heels tonight, bringing them closer to eye level. Kaeya put a hand on his chest, running his fingers over the collar of Alhaitham’s suit. “I guess we keep underestimating you. How far are you willing to go tonight?”

Kaeya’s tone was alluring, like feathers brushing over the arch of his neck, exposing him in the most intimate way. Alhaitham’s eyes narrowed. Underneath the flirtatious nature of District 1’s tribute, he spotted something else. Like a poisonous plant luring one in with its beauty, something much more sinister was revealed. Alhaitham took a step back before its vines could coil around him.

“Actually, I was on my way out”, he lifted his glass in dismissal and turned around, Kaeya’s heated gaze lingering in his nape like teeth eager to tear him open. He heard him laugh in disbelief but he didn’t care to save face. His mind was reeling.

Where was Kaveh? What did Kaeya mean? What were the tributes supposed to do here?

Kaveh wasn’t where he had left him. Alhaitham scanned the dancefloor and the buffet. He dodged Fatui wanting to rope him into a dance and fought himself through the crowd, neck craned to find him again.

Instead of catching a shimmer of gold and white, someone else crashed into him as he reached the cloakroom near the entryway. Alhaitham lost both of his wine glasses and their contents spilled between them, crimson drops raining down like blood. Before he could catch himself, a hand wrapped around his mouth and he was yanked into the cloakroom.

His nose twitched. Under it all, he smelled Cyno, the heaviness of his workout, an overpowering musk and something that prickled on his tongue. Tighnari snapped his eyes shut and focused on the heady scent and his breathing. His hand clawed into a naked chest but even if his nails must hurt him, Cyno didn’t say a word.

He crashed back into his body when cleansing night air hit his face. He inhaled it, greedily, squirming in Cyno’s grip. The other put him down on a bench and Tighnari recognized the space they were in, a fenced patio near the gym for the tributes to take breaks in between. It was scarcely decorated, to keep the tributes focused but there was a well in the middle, softly gurgling, and sleek seating areas.

“Are you back?”, Cyno asked. He was kneeling in front of Tighnari, his hands braced left and right of him on the bench. Tighnari’s shirt clung to his back and he pulled a face before he nodded.

“Yes”, his spit was viscous in his mouth and he felt like throwing up still but at least his joints weren’t seizing in anxiety anymore. “That was embarrassing, I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

Cyno said nothing, just got up from the ground and sat down next to him. Goosebumps sprouted on his shoulders and back when the crisp night air met his exposed skin.

“I have those too”, he admitted after a few seconds of silence. “Not around weapons but around myself.”

Tighnari escaped a laugh, bleak and lifeless because he lacked the words to agree.

He had avoided weapons, even his bow he took with him into the jungle for protection, ever since he had won the games. But then, of course, not wielding weapons wasn’t enough to escape the ghosts of the arena. He was still reminded of them whenever he looked into a mirror and saw all those parts not belonging to him, tail and ears, the look in his eyes.

Sometimes he felt like he had never returned.

“When I went into the games at 15, I foolishly thought I’d come home and then I’d be done with it. But it never ends. They modified my body and my mind. Every year we have to come back and send kids and friends to their deaths. I thought I’d gain freedom if I win, if I did what I had to do—but it doesn’t end. There’s no freedom under her.”

It was a dangerous thing to say. Criticizing the Tsaritsa wasn’t allowed and the patio was definitely being monitored. But Tighnari kept his gaze down, long hair framing his face and tried to drown out the consequences. It was hard, balancing the tether between not caring at all and caring too much because now, with Alhaitham and Kaveh in the equation, giving up was no longer an option.

“What do we do to make it end?”, Cyno wondered, sounding like he was asking no one in particular.

“Nothing. The system is rotten to the core.”

“Mhm”, Cyno sat with Tighnari’s answer in contemplating silence. Tighnari watched his profile; he looked like a true warrior. If someone were able to withstand the pressure of the games and their aftermath, it would be Cyno. At first glance, he was a tapestry of muscle and strength, his hardened outside giving the impression his insides were the same, a shield for a heart, a fortress for a mind.

But it was never that easy.

“I’m going to lose them”, Tighnari blurted out, a sob wrenching his throat out of nowhere. “No matter how it ends, I’ll lose them both. If one of them manages to win, it will f*cking destroy them. They can’t—they can’t exist without each other, Cyno, they don’t even realize how much they’re part of a whole. And it’s my task to rip them apart and celebrate it as victory and whoever it is, they’ll come home and they’ll be another ghost haunting me, they’ll hate me for bringing them back and not saving the other, no matter what I do. And if I do lose them both, it’s gonna be worse, not destruction but rot, it’s gonna wither me away from the inside and then, 11 months later, I have to it again, and then there’s no one left who would volunteer for Collei and I’ll have to bury her too—”

“Tighnari, hey”, a rough softness laced Cyno’s voice as he wrapped an arm around Tighnari’s shoulders and pulled him close, like scratchy wool brushing over his eardrums. Tighnari angled his legs and curled himself into a ball in his hold, not caring anymore.

They were both drenched in sweat, both hanging on by a thread and he couldn’t—he couldn’t deal with it. His tears felt like knives, slicing open his cheeks. Another sob wrecked through him and then the air was gone from his lungs again, another anxiety attack throwing him under. Tighnari clawed into Cyno’s chest and time was suspended, not able to follow him into the dark pit of his mind.

When he was able to control his senses again, his nails had dug little crescents into Cyno’s bare chest. He flinched away, apologizing and sat down on the bench with shaking limbs.

“Archons, I’m awful”, Tighnari wiped snot from his nose. “You’re in the same situation and all I do is whine about myself.”

“It’s a lot to deal with”, Cyno admitted and fixed his ponytail before he looked at Tighnari with the ghost of a smile, sad, haunted. “That’s why I train until my muscles seize in pain. Prevents me from thinking about it.”

“Are they your friends too, your tributes?”

“Something like that. They’re good people. Too good for the games. Dehya rescues people who get lost in the sandstorms of our district. Candace and her both work for an orphanage on the outskirts”, District 10 was massive, a desert reminding one of a burning ocean with endless dunes of red sands. Tighnari had seen a glimpse of it when he had visited it during his victory tour. But their population was scarce compared to District 12.

“Did they volunteer for someone?”

“No. But they both made sure their names were in there more than a hundred times. I know they would’ve volunteered if one of their orphans would’ve been reaped, though.”

“They weren’t at the training session today, were they?”, neither Alhaitham nor Kaveh had mentioned District 10 when briefly talking about their training session.

“No. I trained them in our suite”, Cyno’s posture became rigid. “We don’t want to give the others a chance to study their skillset.”

“I see”, when Kaveh had started to chatter about the Sayu girl from District 8 with a tormented glint in his eyes, alarm bells had gone off in Tighnari’s head. Forming an alliance was often a tragedy desperate to be written but sending them in there without support also was no option. He was about to propose an alliance when someone stormed onto the patio.

Cyno was on his feet in an instant, Tighnari needed a moment to realize who he was looking at. Cyno’s tribute, Candace, was holding back tears when she flung herself at Cyno.

Up on the gallery, the atmosphere was a lot more intimate. An illusion of solitude wrapped around them as they oversaw the dancing masses. More tributes appeared in between the Fatui. Yelan and Tomo were moving over the dancefloor, following the steps of Snezhnayan dance with ease. Near the bar, Kaeya was immersed in conversation with someone new. Something cold tiptoed across Kaveh’s nape when he saw the Fatui putting a hand on Kaeya’s thigh, leaning in for what looked like a kiss.

Dottore stepped between him and the railing.

“Are you enjoying the party, District 12?”

Why wasn’t he using his name? Was it another way to keep tributes in their place? To make sure they knew they were nothing but cattle to the Fatui?

“I’m not a fan of names if their existence might fade. I like to savor their taste on my lips for as long as possible”, Dottore mused, grabbing Kaveh’s empty champagne and putting it on top of the railing without watching. “That’s why I brought you here. To find out if you want to put in the effort to have your name remembered.”

Kaveh picked up on social cues as much as he picked up on outstanding architecture. But Dottore proved to be a challenge. There was the mask covering the upper half of his face and there was the smirk that could be a busted lip or exposed teeth at the same time, giving nothing away.

Dottore was obviously offering something. He had promised them an advantage if they joined his party. But Kaveh shouldn’t become too co*cky, should be reminded he wasn’t the one reigning over the chess board but merely the pawn. So he had been separated from Alhaitham at the first opportunity and now—now Kaveh needed to make sure to escape the board and meet Dottore on eye level in a match on a far greater scale than he could comprehend yet.

“That’s quite the offensive attitude for a host claiming to value manners above all”, Kaveh matched the Harbinger’s tone and turned away from the view even though he was desperate to find Alhaitham again. Instead, he strolled down the upper floor, pretending to admire the décor, which was, admittedly, fascinating.

Paintings of the Winter’s Palace, the Colosseum and the dome covering Snezhnaya as a whole on display between busts showing off the heads of the Harbingers, all covered by their masks. Dottore didn’t let him off the leash, clinging to his heels like the shadow they cast.

“Forgive me. Harbinger protocol”, the tall man purred near his ear. “The Head Gamemaker can’t get too attached.”

“Must be hard”, Kaveh looked over his shoulder, lashes fluttering. He pressed his lips together and they came back wet, glistening, pouting with fake innocence. Dottore’s smirk faltered for the fracture of a second. “My name rolls really well off the tongue.”

“Is that so?”, Dottore’s tone bordered on nonchalant but Kaveh knew he was chiseling through the mask, slowly but oh so intricate, Kaveh knew how to leave a mark. He might be bad at fighting but he knew exactly about the effect he had on people when he went in for a kill much sweeter than death.

“Yes”, he sighed as if it was a tragedy. He closed their distance and ran a finger over the rim of Dottore’s mask. “But why should I give it away to people, who see no potential in me? Especially, if downstairs are more than a dozen sponsors eager to whisper it against my lips.”

Kaveh knew he had danced too close to the sun the moment Dottore’s lips morphed into a smirk fresh off the whetstone. Dottore’s hand plucked his away from the mask and laced their fingers. Kaveh’s eyes flitted to the side, realizing they were no longer out in the open, had followed the network of hallways deep into Dottore’s home. But there was also a person smoking in the corridor, right next to a door slightly ajar.

Kaveh’s mouth fell open in surprise. Yae Miko, mentor of District 7.

“I wanted to introduce you to some of our most ambitious sponsors but now that seems like a waste”, Dottore’s voice poured over his neck like dozens of spiders skittering over his skin and Kaveh wanted to jerk away but he was tugged along once more.

They approached Yae and Kaveh tried not to panic. Because if a mentor was up here, then it was alright. He wasn’t going to be kidnapped with witnesses around. The slant of light spilling into the hallway was flickering red. Kaveh felt faint.

“Yae, I told you this space was for the tributes only”, Dottore scolded her with a tone hinting at light mockery. Yae took another drag of her cigarette, her fox ears flicking in irritation.

“I’m taking over for my tribute”, Yae rolled her eyes. “Dumb girl had a panic attack when she entered the room. Disappointing. But I’ll make sure we get our maximum payout. Like I always do.”

“No doubt you will. Do you want me to send up the other interested parties after you’re done with him? Or do you want to give your tribute another try?”

“She’s a lost cause. Send them up in 30 minutes”, Yae pushed herself off the wall and opened the door. Heat surged into Kaveh’s cheeks when he saw a Fatui man lounging naked on an opulent bed, wearing nothing but a golden bull mask.

His gasp of surprise didn’t go unheard. Yae turned on the threshold, already sliding one strap of her dress down her shoulder with a smirk: “I’m surprised your righteous mentor sent you to be part of this, Kaveh.”

“Oh, I think this little bird fluttered into the cage willingly”, the grip on his neck smoothed into gloved fingers stroking over the side of his throat and Kaveh canted up his chin in a poor attempt to escape from it, tears prickling in his eyes.

Yae’s lips twitched, something inscrutable in her eyes. “Just like me then.”

She slipped into the room and closed the door. Kaveh’s ears were nothing but a roar of noise, his world threatening to tilt. He stared down the corridor, saw the closed doors and the promiscuous lightning seeping out from every other slant. His chest became tight. He stumbled backwards but Dottore remained that confining presence in his back. An arm looped around his waist from behind.

“No”, the touch was so faint and yet it felt like Dottore was creating bruises within him.

This was how the advantages in the games were granted? Tributes selling their bodies for the night to satisfy the most generous sponsors? And what would it gain them? A favored weapon? Extra rations of food? Medicine? Or just a quick, clean death?

“I assumed being a part of this would be your intention”, Dottore murmured against his ear. “After all, you claimed to know so many Fatui desperate to whisper your name against your lips.”

“I don’t—”, his heart was bashing against his chest like a prisoner, a creature, terrified of what would happen if they broke free. “No, please—”

“I think you don’t understand, District 12. I’m the one pulling the strings on my puppets in the arena. I can grant you a wish if you make me remember your name.”

The hands vanished and Kaveh almost sobbed in relief. Dottore walked to another door and opened it. The bedroom inside lay in darkness, the bed neatly made. Dottore pulled one glove off his hand and threw it onto the mattress, staring at Kaveh through his mask.

“And we both know what that wish will be, so I’m telling you now, yes, it’s possible.”

“Haitham”, Kaveh whispered, throat tight.

Dottore’s smirk hardened in triumph.

“Sorry, f*ck, sorry, I thought you were one of them—”, a woman ducked under the hand he instinctively had swung at his attacker and took a jump back. Alhaitham gritted his teeth and searched for a weapon close by but his resolve faltered when he recognized her.

District 10, Dehya.

The tall, muscular woman was wearing gorgeous, dark make-up and a dress suit combo with a sheer, dark red seam of intricate lace only that the lace had been torn up and hung down in shreds. Alhaitham spotted something akin to scratchmarks on her forearm. She followed his gaze and covered them with her hand.

“’s nothing”, she hissed but her voice wavered. “Had a run-in with a clingy bastard. Took care of him. Was about to go. Alright?”

“A Fatui attacked you?”, Alhaitham ignored her, still assessing the damage. Her hair must have been styled neatly to match her elegant but regal look but a few strands had come loose, revealing the lion’s mane framing her face any other day. He moved to the side when Dehya approached the door of the cloakroom but the question slipped out nonetheless. “Why?”

“Apparently there has been a misunderstanding”, she briskly said, blue eyes pinned to the wall but hesitating to leave. “I thought if you attended this event, you would share some drinks with these pigs and gain more Mora for the games. But apparently, they want us to give up something in return.”

Her voice was like a whip, aimed at herself for she trembled with every syllable. Alhaitham knew better than to offer physical comfort. Instead, he maneuvered himself out of the way to become less of a threat. Dehya relaxed slightly.

“Where?”, he asked, trying to sound detached, to not give away a glimpse of the storm raging in his mind.

“Upstairs. But he won’t mess with me anymore”, she flexed her hand. “Got him right in the balls. f*cking bastard.”

Alhaitham pushed himself out of the cloakroom without another word. Outside, the party was still in full swing, the laughter gradually becoming louder, the jokes more jovial. He flew up the stairs, taking three steps at once, Kaveh’s name echoing like a mantra in his head, replacing his panicked heartbeat.

Fear and rage coursed through his veins in a volatile dance and Alhaitham clenched his jaw so hard, it sent a sour pain through his skull. Tighnari had warned them. Tighnari had told them not to go here because he must have known. He had wanted to protect them and Alhaitham had thought himself smarter, had roped Kaveh into this and had then lost him—Kaveh, beautiful, desired by the Fatui because Alhaitham had wanted him to be—

“Kaveh!”, his name rolled over his tongue like thunder when he turned into a dimly lit corridor and saw Kaveh’s glowing presence in the middle of it. The blond flinched, eyes distraught before they managed to latch onto Alhaitham’s face, gaze so desperate it might have been teeth.

Alhaitham wrapped his arms around him without thinking. He pressed him against his chest and Kaveh clawed into his suit jacket. The lashes fluttering against Alhaitham’s throat were dewy and wet. He pressed his lips onto Kaveh’s hair damp with cold sweat when he realized another figure looming in the corridor.

Dottore was standing in the doorway of a bedroom, his gloves already on the bed, his suit jacket unbuttoned. Red tinted Alhaitham’s vision, conjured so violently it was almost a solid weight pressing down to melt into his bones.

“You f*cking bastard”, he grabbed Dottore by the collar and slammed him into the nearest wall with a guttural growl. Something had unraveled in his chest, darkness pouring out from deep within into his fingertips, itching to curl around Dottore’s throat. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Haitham, stop!”, Kaveh shrieked, shaken out of his stupor. He clung to Alhaitham’s back and tried prying him off but Alhaitham held Dottore pinned, muscles seized up like a rabid dog biting on bone. “He’s Head Gamemaker! A Harbinger! Please, you’re going to make it worse—!”

Alhaitham let go. Dottore, unflinching through the whole attack, burst into cold, eerie laughter. He lifted his hands for a slow, humiliating clap and there was nothing Alhaitham could do about it.

“Oh, I’m going to have my fun with you, District 12”, Dottore smirked, voice steel between Alhaitham’s ribs. The red eyes behind the mask found Kaveh again. “And afterward, I’ll have even more fun.”

Alhaitham’s fist connected with the wall, knuckles splitting open like the plaster they collided with, leaving behind a coat of deep red. He grabbed Kaveh by the waist and half-dragged, half-carried him out of the corridor and down the stairs. If he lingered in Dottore’s presence one second longer, he would end him. And then he would doom them both.

f*ck, he couldn’t breathe. Worse, he couldn’t think.

Killing seemed so easy all of a sudden. Why had they been worried?

They crashed through the doors of Dottore’s suite, leaving the party behind but almost bumping into another group of people in front of them. Dehya was one of them, clearly just having left, her teammate, Candace, clinging onto her and her mentor Cyno assessing her for any damage.

To Alhaitham’s horror, they had Tighnari in tow.

Their eyes met. Tighnari looked from Kaveh, holding onto Alhaitham with tears streaking his face to Alhaitham’s bloody knuckles. A flare of anger rushed over Tighnari’s face before it settled on dread.

“What did you do?”

Chapter 8: killing bite

Chapter Text

CHAPTER EIGHT - KILLING BITE

“Don’t let them have you." - Haitham

“I don’t understand why I have to justify myself, they are the ones playing dirty! I thought I’d sneak out to a bougie banquet not into a f*cking sex-trafficking ring!”

Tighnari flinched at Dehya’s outburst but left her to it. She and her fellow tribute, Candace, were still yelling at each other and Cyno had decided to allow it, leaning against the wall of their suite and observing with crossed arms. He had ordered Tighnari, Alhaitham and Kaveh to come with him to District 10’s suite, all of them still shaken and uncapable of making sensible decisions and Tighnari with the urge for a safe space far away from Fatui antics.

Alhaitham was dangerously quiet, perched on the edge of the sofa next to Kaveh, whose eyes flicked from one party to the next, and looked one second away from emptying his stomach all over the suite’s pretty marbel floor. Tighnari inhaled a breath so sharp it went down his throat like shards of ice. He felt like he had been through a round of the Hunger Games himself, hair damp with cold sweat.

“I thought you were dead! You can’t just leave the suite without a word, I thought you had run to the roof—”

“And what? Offed myself? Do you think me that much of a coward?”

“You keep saying you want me to win, so what am I supposed to think?! That you really value your life after monologuing about how I’m gonna make an amazing victor?!” Candace threw her hands up in exasperation, tears streaking down her face. Dehya’s snarky retort got caught in a wet scoff.

“I tried to obtain more resources for your win, that’s all,” she whispered, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her fiery gaze was dimmed, lashes wet. Tighnari’s heart clenched.

So Dehya wanted to get Candace through the games, no matter what. Alhaitham and Kaveh weren’t the only tributes with a strong connection. Cyno pushed himself off the wall and the room immediately went silent. As always when the former winner decided to speak, he gained their whole attention.

“You two won’t leave this suite until the interview,” Cyno’s voice was calm like it had been when he had talked Tighnari through his anxiety attack. Commanding but not unkind. His eyes lingered on Alhaitham’s blank face and something roiled in Tighnari’s stomach. “Tighnari and I decided that Kaveh and Alhaitham will join us here for our daily training sessions.”

“What?!” Dehya and Alhaitham blurted out.

“Your stunt for sure has infuriated Dottore," Tighnari finally spoke up. “We can’t make you even more of a target. No more public training sessions, no more conversing with the other tributes. Especially not the Treasure Hoarders. You can expect their mentors to strike up a deal with Dottore. Think of it like a bounty being placed on Haitham’s head.”

“I don’t have time for this nonsense." Alhaitham rose to his feet. “I have yet to study Kaeya’s fighting technique and Kaveh needs to practice the art of camouflage and discovering poisonous plants and—”

“I will teach him,” Tighnari cut him off, annoyance scorching his tone. He didn’t want to throw accusations around, didn’t want to be the person to say I told you so, not turn to victim blaming but it was hard to see Alhaitham as the victim when he was giving him this much of an attitude. “And Cyno and Candace will make sure Kaveh learns a few self-defense techniques. You can train with Dehya for close combat. But not outside these walls. Never outside these walls, do you understand?”

It might be the first time Tighnari wasn’t talking to them as a friend but as a mentor. Alhaitham stood up abruptly, hands formed to fists. He turned to leave but Tighnari stepped into his path. His lips twitched and revealed the filed canines the Fatui had granted him in addition to tail and ears after his victory.

“I need you to confirm for me, Haitham.”

“Understood.” Alhaitham’s clipped voice pricked the little hairs in his neck on end. He didn’t meet Tighnari’s eyes but at least he listened. Tighnari heaved a tired sigh and let him pass. The suite door fell shut with a dull thud.

Tighnari ordered the remaining three tributes to sit down while he and Cyno went over the schedule. He saw in Kaveh’s expression that the blond was barely listening, eyes still covered in a hazy sheen. They would return tomorrow and Cyno and Tighnari would do their best to teach them before they would discuss their strategies for the final examination by the Harbingers, where their scores would be assigned.

After half an hour, Tighnari and Kaveh left for their own suite, which lay in darkness. Neither Nilou nor Alhaitham was present, though underneath Alhaitham’s bedroom door a slant of light peeked out. Kaveh stumbled to the sofa and slumped down immediately, face first. Tighnari rubbed his fox ear before swallowing his own emotions and sitting down next to his friend.

“Kaveh, I need to know if you are okay.”

A bleak laugh got swallowed by the cushion. “Feeling peachy.”

“I mean it. Please talk to me." Something in his voice must have crumbled his defiance because he sat up and reached out for him without hesitation. Tighnari slung his arms around him, clutching at Kaveh’s back. It was like trying to keep a statue from breaking, he thought, as he pressed his palms against Kaveh’s spine. His eyes fluttered shut, stomach in knots when he finally dared to ask.

“Did he touch you?”

“Just—Just my—he just hugged me, nothing—nothing too bad, not like—” Kaveh hid his face against Tighnari’s shoulder, their hug so tight it hurt yet both refused to let go. “Yae was there too, the mentors, they do it too—”

“I know.”

“You know?” Kaveh breathed out. “No, Tighnari, don’t tell me you—”

The blond tried to wrench himself out of their hug to look at him but Tighnari kept him there, locked them together for he couldn’t afford to face the horror in Kaveh’s eyes, the pity, the knowing what it meant for him.

Compared to his panic attack from earlier, this memory felt almost sterile in his mind. Something cataloged and stowed away a long time ago, something hidden so deep it couldn’t hurt him. Because this wasn’t about him. It was about keeping his friends safe.

Dottore’s parties were infamous at best - everyone knew about them and wished to attend them and Tighnari was convinced all Fatui knew what went down on the second floor as well; they didn’t interfere because they didn’t see something morally wrong with it. After all, it was merely another way of them shuffling their pawns on the board. Of course, they only allowed the 18-year-olds and older to participate, as if that would make it a healthy thing to do.

When he had returned as a 16-year-old mentor with his new body, he had been invited to Dottore’s party. Unsure how to navigate in the world of the Fatui, he had attended. No one spoke of the second floor then, but their implications were clear. Dances and drinks that led to lingering touches, pinching his cheeks, petting his tail, grabbing his waist. Cooing over him because he was their newest pet. In their eyes, they had gifted Tighnari his new appearance and were entitled to it.

“They don’t keep it a secret. They sell it as an opportunity for an adult tribute to gain an advantage or allow a mentor to become one of them," Tighnari said, carefully weighing the words on his tongue before he let them roll off with a bitter aftertaste.

“Tighnari," if Kaveh clasped him any tighter, he would bruise him. Tighnari’s hold on him, however, was slipping. He felt that numbness streaming through his veins again, deaf and blind to the present as the ghosts of the arena and the neverending aftermath crept in. Kaveh leaned back and cupped his face with shaking, clammy palms. “Tighnari, what did they do?”

His friend looked distraught, had long forgotten about his own run-in with Dottore. Tighnari brushed his hands off and grimaced a smile. He brushed Kaveh’s hair behind his ears as if he were a child—as if he were Collei—and pressed his lips on his friend’s forehead.

“I won’t let any of you go through this. They might have power in the arena but I will never give them anything of yours outside of it. Not your body, not your heart, nothing. I promise.”

“Did Dottore—was he the one—”

“Try to sleep a bit Kaveh, you need rest.”

Tighnari knew his smile was radiating warmth because it was impossible to feel cold in Kaveh’s glowing presence but he also knew, the other wasn’t convinced. Still, he didn’t allow himself to be weak. Kaveh bit his lip, swallowing down the urge to argue. He squeezed Tighnari’s hand and got up. He hovered in front of Alhaitham’s closed door before he went to his own room, quietly closing the door.

Tighnari curled his tail around himself as he retreated to one end of the massive sofa in the common room. He undid the braid and let his long hair fall down his shoulders, leaning forward until it framed him from the outside world.

Only when the light in Alhaitham’s bedroom turned dark, he allowed himself to stifle a sob in his hand.

Dehya was a formidable opponent.

Different from Tomo but not less challenging. They trained with practice swords and spears before going over to hand-to-hand combat. She knew how to identify pressure points and dominate him on the mat they had put out on the balcony of District 10’s suite. She used the strength of her thighs to compete with Alhaitham’s upper body strength.

Cyno observed them, only leaving his post whenever Tighnari called him from inside, where Candace and Kaveh were learning self-defense methods. When District 10’s mentor left them for a few minutes, Dehya and Alhaitham took a break, gulping down the water the servants had put out for them.

Dehya’s wild mane was braided into a ponytail; without the extravagant make-up and dress of the party, the scars on her body were revealed. Broad and vicious they raked over her naked side, one even up her neck as if she had fought close combat against a beast of prey. Alhaitham knew from Tighnari District 10 was a harsh wasteland and Dehya wasn’t scared to conquer it to protect the ones she wanted to protect.

“We should form an alliance," Alhaitham said, wiping some sweat from his brow.

“Should we?” Dehya arched a well-groomed brow, a slight smirk playing on her lips. “Do you think because our mentors are into each other, we have to be too?”

“Into…each other?” Confusion bled into Alhaitham’s tone before he managed to conceal it. He didn’t like to be left in the dark. Tighnari and Cyno were professional, training them all to gain the optimal advantage, nothing else. “This isn’t about them. This is about combining our forces after having trained with each other. Being familiar with each other’s techniques will make fighting together easier.”

“It can also make killing each other easier," Dehya fixed her ponytail, avoiding his eyes. Alhaitham observed the tension in her shoulders; she was on guard, not trusting him but that only made him more sure of his decision. He didn’t need someone reckless. He needed someone vigilant at their side.

“We both want to bring them home.”

“I will bring her home,” Dehya spat out through gritted teeth.

“Sure,” Alhaitham brushed it off because there could only be one winner and that would be Kaveh. “Here’s my proposition.”

“So formal,” Dehya smirked, blue eyes scanning his face intently as if expecting a trick.

“I prefer formal. We can’t have emotions clouding our judgment. Not if we want to keep them safe. So, we will team up for the beginning of the games and steer clear of the Treasure Hoarders. Once our numbers dwindle, we part ways so it doesn’t come down to a fight between us.”

“And if it comes down to us four being the last ones standing?”

Alhaitham shuffled his foot under the practice spear and kicked it into the air, catching it. “Then I promise to make it quick.”

Dehya stared at him, too stunned for a retort before she burst into loud, rough laughter that her shoulders shook, the tension finally melting away. She pressed onto her stomach, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes from laughing so much. The noise alerted the others, poking their heads out on the balcony. Kaveh’s hair was mussed from training, a healthy color in his cheeks as he stared at them in pure disbelief.

“What’s going on?” Tighnari looked like he was convinced now finally one of them had lost their mind. Alhaitham’s lips twitched into a smile; he didn’t try to hide it, was unable to, even.

“We decided to form an alliance”, he explained and only flinched slightly when Dehya slapped him on the back and bumped their shoulders together.

They took the news in stride, newfound resolve trickling into their expressions. That day, they trained until Alhaitham and Dehya were unable to lift even their practice weapons and Kaveh was feeling too sick to eat. Sweaty and aching in the best ways, they carried themselves back to their suite, where Tighnari remained for a total of three minutes before he went to another sponsor gathering, this time an official one.

And suddenly, they were alone for the first time since Dottore’s party. Kaveh yawned, stretched, and dragged his feet as he approached his room. Alhaitham bit his lip; he had waited for him the other night, expecting Kaveh to join him in bed again but the blond hadn’t shown up.

“Are you okay?” he whispered before Kaveh could disappear into his room, quietly enough for the other to overhear it if he didn’t want to talk but Kaveh slowly turned around, clinging to his water bottle. He was wearing a loose tanktop, the cut so deep it revealed his sides and a dark binder the Fatui provided for him, much too expensive and high-quality for them to acquire at home.

“What do you mean?” Kaveh scrunched his brows.

“What I asked.”

“I’m…yeah, I’m alright…tired,” he added with a shy smile. A shy smile that was almost unnatural for Kaveh, who wore his heart on his sleeve, unable to hide his real emotions. Now he was pinching his face as if scared any might slip out. Alhaitham crossed their distance and took the water bottle out of his hand without knowing why. Maybe because Kaveh tried to hide behind it by playing with the cap and dodging his gaze.

“You didn’t come to my room last night.”

“Oh,” Kaveh’s eyes grew wide and then his already flushed cheeks became a little darker. “I thought you might wanna be alone. After all that happened at the party—”

“Did you want to be alone?”, Alhaitham put the bottle on a nearby kitchen counter. They were so close, Kaveh had to tilt his chin up to meet his gaze, his breath washing over Alhaitham’s jaw.

“No,” he whispered and then leaned against the wall in his back with a nervous laugh. “When do I ever wanna be alone, Haitham? Come on. Wasn’t that something you loved to complain about at home?”

“Yeah,” Alhaitham nodded, fondness in his tone.

At home, Kaveh was breezing through the kitchen with a song on his lips, was humming whatever melody he had made up in his head, was itching to tell Alhaitham his thoughts the second they appeared in his mind. It had led to a lot of frustration between them when he was interfering with Alhaitham’s precious reading time—books and insults learned flying during those arguments. But now? “Yeah, I used to complain about that, I guess.”

“Mhh. I still get PTSD whenever I see you picking up the encyclopedia of Teyvat,” Kaveh mused and broke into a giggle at the memory. The airy sound got caught in his throat when he noticed their closeness, Alhaitham purposely cutting off the route to his room.

“Did he touch you?” he needed to ask, even if it was inappropriate. Every rational thought dissipated when Alhaitham merely thought the name Dottore. It ignited a vicious, crimson entity deep inside of him, had his blood pumping wildly and his fingertips twitch with an urge he had yet to explore.

“No." Kaveh’s hands drifted to Alhaitham’s own workout clothes, clinging onto his shirt like they had to his suit in the dark corridor at the party. “He offered me—uh, he offered me a deal, that’s all. I didn’t—I mean I was considering it, f-for a second but then—I didn’t.”

Alhaitham didn’t need to ask what the deal had entailed because he saw every word written on Kaveh’s distraught face. His stomach roiled and he ground his teeth together. If he weren’t a tribute, he would walk back up to Dottore’s suite and skin this monster alive.

“Haitham,” Kaveh’s fingertips ghosted over his clenched jaw. “Nothing happened, I swear.”

The fleeting touch pulled at him like a hook being placed right behind his navel. Alhaitham’s hips shifted forward even more, trapping Kaveh between the wall and himself, desperate to drown out the memory of Dottore.

“Don’t let them have you, Kaveh,” his hands came down on Kaveh’s toned waist, thumbs hooking into the cut-out of his shirt. He might have struck a match over his skin because they both gasped, teetering between thrill and fear. “Even after the games, promise me, don’t give yourself to them.”

“I won’t,” Kaveh whispered against the underside of his jaw, his lips brushing against Alhaitham’s skin with every syllable. “Dottore—the Tsaritsa—they will never have me. They can hold their sick games but they will never own me.”

“Why?”

The question was innocent but his intentions were not. They were thumbs drawing small circles into the exposed skin and palms smoothing against Kaveh’s curves until the blond shivered against him. A knife balancing on Alhaitham’s tongue, one cut and they both would be tinted red but it wasn’t enough for him to stop. Kaveh arched his back, causing the crux of their bodies to meet. His fingers came down on Alhaitham’s chest again, clawing through the fabric.

“Because of us,” Kaveh sighed, adding another unsuspected act to their tragedy. He was panting into his neck, pulling at him, parting his legs enough to press himself against Alhaitham’s thigh, so the other felt the heat of his core. Alhaitham dared to lower his chin for their eyes to meet, devoid of any reason, pupils blown wide.

His hand grabbed around the side of Kaveh’s neck, his palm big enough to eclipse it whole, so delicate and vulnerable but not afraid of him because why would he be? Kaveh leaned his head against the wall and exposed the pale, inviting skin for his thumb to stroke down to his pulse. His other hand clawed into Kaveh’s side, setting a rhythm, causing their hips to roll against each other until their breaths came staccato.

“Haitham,” Kaveh whispered, whined.

This was a mistake. Breathing each other in like this, grinding onto each other like animals—hadn’t he told Dehya emotions had no place in the arena? Now he allowed the force of his feelings to pulverize the arena to dust. All Alhaitham could think about was the need to taste Kaveh after he had denied them both for so long, to drink him up and devour him whole. So deliciously close to tearing into each other.

f*ck, he knew why they called it the Hunger Games now. For they created teeth marks on everything he loved, turned him into a rabid dog biting down on what kept him human, scared and afraid and so, so foolish.

Kaveh was already on his tiptoes, lips slack but hoping for Alhaitham to cross the distance. Alhaitham watched how his lashes fluttered and how he held his breath in anticipation and he couldn’t do it. He knew once their mouths met, a confession would follow right after and that wasn’t allowed to happen.

So he let his hand wander instead, from Kaveh’s waist to his stomach, bunching up his tanktop enough to reveal the waistband of his leggings. His fingers danced over the fabric, becoming more curious the closer he came to Kaveh’s middle.

Kaveh sank back against the wall and pushed his hips forward, his fiery eyes coated in a murky haze. They were skipping several steps here. But then again—what was there to overthink anymore? If there was one thing they didn’t have, it was time.

“Can I…?” Alhaitham asked, voice so raspy it broke at the end.

“I’m all gross from training,” Kaveh mumbled but neither of them believed that excuse. He parted his legs further, tongue licking over his plump lower lip. Alhaitham put two fingers into his mouth, sucking them in. His tongue twirled around them and he tried not to think about how Kaveh greedily watched, lips twitching as if wanting a taste as well.

“You’re perfect,” Alhaitham whispered when he guided his slick fingers back between Kaveh’s legs, sliding his hand underneath his pants. The fabric was damp and drenched even before he curled his fingers around Kaveh’s sex and slightly parted it.

“Oh f*ck—” Kaveh threw his head back with a moan, exposing the length of his neck once more and Alhaitham latched onto the skin immediately. His tongue followed the delicate arch of it before he sucked the skin between his teeth. Kaveh throbbed against hand, soaking his fingers as they framed his small, wet dick between his knuckles.

“So wet, so perfect,” Alhaitham murmured into his neck. Kaveh’s rapid breathing bled into a strung-out moan. He was writhing against him, chasing the touch. He clawed into Alhaitham’s hair with a whine, nails scratching over his scalp. Alhaitham kept still, gave the reins over to Kaveh by keeping his fingers in place. He framed his dick while Kaveh f*cked into the touch, bucking his hips and grinding up against him.

The wet heat around him, it dripping down his fingertips, caused Alhaitham’s knees to become weak. He needed his other hand to support himself against the wall when his arousal hit him like a wave. He tried focusing on the neck in front of him to not chase it. Sucked and licked and bit, anything to leave a faint mark on him, so Alhaitham could soothe it with his tongue right after.

“Haitham—f*ck, f*ck—I’m close—move, move—” Kaveh’s soft, breathless begging tore him out of his thoughts and immediately, the sensations crashed into him. How hot the skin of his neck had grown against Alhaitham’s lips, how wet he was against his fingers, how he clawed into him almost desperately.

Alhaitham crooked his fingers, curling around Kaveh’s twitching dick and mimicked a slow jerking motion. Kaveh’s mouth fell open on a quiet moan and his hands grabbed onto his shoulders. He had never done this. Jerked someone off who didn’t—well, who didn’t have the dick of a cis man but he must be doing something right by observing Kaveh’s reaction.

He heightened the pressure whenever Kaveh’s words slurred into airless moans and moved more carefully when he drew his brows together in overstimulation or discomfort. And then everything was so slick and wet between them, it didn’t matter. Alhaitham’s fingertip brushed over Kaveh’s dick and the other fell forward, hips chasing the feeling, grinding, f*cking.

“I’m gonna—f*ck, don’t stop, don’t stop—H-Haitham—” his name rolled off Kaveh’s slack lips like honey and Alhaitham was close to losing his mind when he felt him cum all over his hand, making an even bigger mess between them. His dick twitched and throbbed against him and he slowly retreated his fingers when Kaveh’s moans turned into shaky whimpers.

Kaveh clung to his upper arms as if he was scared of losing balance. And when Alhaitham gave his neck free again, he noticed the blond was trembling all over.

“Archons…,” Kaveh breathed out and slumped against him. His hipbone brushed against Alhaitham’s erection, still straining the fabric of his shorts and Kaveh tensed.

“Ignore it,” Alhaitham grunted. This wasn’t about me, he wanted to say. This was about making you feel good, forgetting about everything else. And maybe it was about me stealing a taste of something I can’t have, he added quietly in his mind and the memory of their predicament was enough for his own arousal to dim.

He put out an arm for Kaveh to hang onto and the other pivoted in front of him, exchanging the wall in his back for Alhaitham’s chest. Another curse left Kaveh’s lips and this time, Alhaitham joined him. Because now Kaveh’s ass rubbed against him, so perfectly it must have been on purpose. He wrapped his arms around Kaveh’s waist, one hand splayed on his abdomen, slick fingers slipping past his waistband once again.

“Yes, yes—” Kaveh pleaded and threw up his arms to wrap them around Alhaitham’s broad neck.

His resolve faltered. The promise he had made himself. To bring Kaveh home. No distractions. No selfish intentions. Alhaitham growled into Kaveh’s neck, into the spot he had marked up. Frustration and hunger unraveling him. Archons, he needed to f*ck him or he would go insane—

“There you are!”

The door of the suite was thrown open and Kaveh and Alhaitham jolted apart as if someone had thrown firecrackers into their midst. Kaveh jumped over the threshold into his room, partially hiding his disheveled self and Alhaitham stumbled behind the kitchen counter to cover up his lower half, though it did nothing to hide the blush on his cheeks.

Luckily, Nilou didn’t take notice at all, gaze still pinned to her clipboard as she rushed into the common room: “Hurry, we are late! Tighnari is already downstairs!”

“What do you mean?” Alhaitham was grateful for Kaveh asking because he didn’t trust his own voice yet. His confusion caused Nilou to look up with big, blue eyes.

“They rescheduled the presentation in front of the Gamemakers. It’s happening right now.”

“What?!”

“I know, I know, Tighnari just found out—hurry, get ready! If we miss it, you won’t get a score at all!”

Chapter 9: red paint

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NINE - RED PAINT

“ We have proven in our games that we are not content with letting them win.” - Cyno

Kaveh had taken the fastest shower of his life and switched into the designated training room attire, his hair still damp, more a lion’s mane than anything as it fell into his flushed face. He entered the lobby where the tributes were supposed to wait right after a quick hug from Tighnari.

There was no time to discuss strategies. Mentors weren’t allowed during the process but had to wait outside. It was only the 24 tributes crammed into the lobby. Alhaitham, usually glued to his side and eyes throwing daggers whenever dared to come close, was sitting in a corner next to Dehya, whispering to her. Dehya threw up her hands in exasperation, the frustration obvious and Kaveh couldn’t blame her.

Holding the presentation sooner must have been one of Dottore’s whims to punish them, Kaveh had no doubt. The whole procedure was something he hadn’t thought much about because they wanted to get through the training days first but he knew it consisted of a solo performance in front of the Gamemakers. They would get a chance to present their skills and the Gamemakers would assign them a score from 1 to 12 to measure their talent and chances in the arena. The numbers were vital to gain the attention of sponsors and other tributes. A high number might secure a lot of mora but would also put a target on their backs.

Not that there wasn’t already one painted on Alhaitham’s back anyway.

Kaveh squirmed on his seat, stealing a glance at Alhaitham. He found it hard to be anxious about the presentation even though he had no clue what he would show the Fatui. It was hard to focus on anything but the tender skin on his neck carrying Alhaitham’s mark and his bones still weak and liquid in the aftermath of them. He watched how Alhaitham lifted his hand during his conversation and Kaveh had to turn around with a stifled gasp.

His dick twitched and he pressed his thighs together.

“Focus,” he scolded himself. “You can’t fail this.”

A dark chuckle taunted him enough to let go of the reverie of Alhaitham’s hands on him. Kaeya sat across from him, slouched back on his seat and winked, clearly entertained by Kaveh’s anxious state. Kaveh forced a smile and got up despite his jittery legs.

“District 1 - Kaeya,” a monotonous voice over the speaker demanded and Kaeya got up, flexing his arms as he walked past the tributes. He exchanged a fistbump with Tomo from District 7 and nodded at Alhaitham before he vanished through the sliding door.

And with it they trickled out, one by one. Kaeya first and he didn’t return to not give them any information, his fellow teammate Mika following. The other Treasure Hoarders walked through the door with confidence and the teenagers from District 3 and 5 looked like they might vomit.

“Do you know what you are going to show them?” Sayu asked Kaveh when he passed her during his anxious pacing. The eleven-year-old had spent a whole day with him at the camouflage station and even now was almost swallowed by her training hoodie. She had pulled up the hood so nothing but her nose peeked out from the rim. Next to her sat Shinobu, eighteen-years-old, one arm hovering protectively over the back of Sayu’s chair.

“No, not really,” Kaveh shrugged. “I’ll just try not to make a fool out of myself.”

“I think I’m gonna show them how good I can hide. With the tricks we learned. You should do that too! You were really talented with the paint,” Sayu nodded, young eyes full of sincerity. Her voice was calm, bordering on tired. No wonder, he doubted any of the tributes slept well these days.

“You know what, Sayu? That’s a good idea,” Kaveh smiled. She reminded him of Collei, of the kids at home. Painting on their skin together had reminded him of the murals he created with District 12. Shinobu nodded at his answer as if approving and relaxed in her seat when Kaveh plopped down across from them. “They can’t catch us if they can’t see us.”

“Exactly!” Sayu grinned, visibly proud of her idea.

“District 8 - Sayu,” the speaker announced and the smirk trickled off her face. She exchanged a nervous glance with Shinobu before she hopped off the stool.

“You’ll do great,” Kaveh called after her and Sayu waved at him, the metal doors sliding shut behind her. Shinobu got up and took over Kaveh’s nervous pacing, leaving him behind. Once again his eyes flitted to Alhaitham.

The other caught his gaze. If there was any ounce of desire left in him, he had doused it in typical Alhaitham fashion. The task at hand was much more important than any emotions. Kaveh found himself walking up to him anyway, sitting next to him, Dehya and Candace.

“You should have sat with us from the beginning, we needed to talk strategy.”

“Sorry,” Kaveh mumbled, though his eyes begged to differ. We should be somewhere else right now, was what they said and Alhaitham hurried to look away. He had rolled up his sleeves and Kaveh’s eyes clung to his forearms, his wrists and his fingers that had been—

Oh yeah, this presentation would be a disaster.

“Any idea what might give you the highest score in the range of your abilities?” Candace asked softly.

“Painting, probably,” Kaveh shrugged, eager to cling to a new subject. “So I think I’m gonna go with camouflage. I think I fare better if I don’t show them my combat skills.”

“I thought so too,” Candace hummed. “I’m really good at patching up people and navigating through the desert but how does one show this in a sterile gym? These tests are just unfair.”

“We don’t need high scores. Higher scores make us targets. Just try to land somewhere in the middle,” Dehya assured them both and cracked a smile.

“District 10 - Candace,” the monotonous speaker's voice rang through the room.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t notice we were that far along already—” Candace sputtered and jumped to her feet. Dehya squeezed her hand. “Alright. Good luck, everyone. See you on the other side.”

Dehya got called in shortly after and before soon it was just Alhaitham and Kaveh left, sitting in awkward silence. Alhaitham was sitting straight, shoulders drawn back, staring down an invisible point on the wall with a clenched jaw.

“Should we—uhm, do you wanna talk about what happened?” Kaveh asked because the silence and uncertainty were killing him. He needed to know what the f*ck had happened between them. Was it just them getting rid of all the stress as tributes or was it something more? Was it worth exploring his fluttering heart when Alhaitham had whispered his praise into his ear? When he had wrapped around him once more, eager to continue and go even further?

“Not now,” Alhaitham said calmly. “We need to focus on the games.”

“Oh, yeah sure, let’s just talk after the games, no problem,” Kaveh rolled his eyes.

“Don’t throw a tantrum right now.”

“A tantrum?” Kaveh echoed, voice hitching up a little. All the fantasies dispersed for the strong urge to give Alhaitham a slap over the head. He jumped up instead, throwing up his hands in frustration.

“Yes,” the other co*cked his head to the side, studying him with a blank face. “Keep your wits. You’ll be facing Dottore in a few minutes and he will do anything to harm us. So you need to be smart about this now, Kaveh. You need to think about yourself and your survival.”

“District 12 - Alhaitham,” the speaker chimed in, not giving Kaveh time to gather his thoughts. When the other walked past him, Kaveh’s hand twitched but he refrained from holding onto him. The metal doors swallowed Alhaitham’s broad shoulders and then he was alone.

He hadn’t thought about the fact that Dottore would be up there, judging their performances with the other Gamemakers. His stomach clenched with unease. He rubbed his clammy palms onto his knees and tried to take a calming breath.

“Be smart about it, Kaveh,” he mimicked Alhaitham’s sober voice. “Focus on your survival not on me jerking you off out of f*cking nowhere after years of being annoyed by your presence, cool strategy, huh?”

“District 12 - Kaveh,” the voice in the speakers sounded like it had been listening in and was mocking him. Kaveh stuck his tongue at the speaker in the corner and dragged his feet to the door. His nerves were buzzing in the worst way, like spiders tiptoeing over his very bones.

He stepped into the gym.

All the stations they had trained at were cleared out, there was nothing but an impressive rack of weapons left in the room, as well as the shooting range with the various programs it provided to show off one’s skill. A white X was drawn in the middle of the room and he walked onto it before lifting his head.

Up there on an alcove embedded in the wall of the training hall the Gamemakers resided. Due to the angle and distance, it was hard to make out anyone because the Fatui kept to the back. Only one tall man with red hair and a fox mask covering his face was leaning onto the railing and even waved at him. Someone else was sitting on the railing itself, feet dangling down, a microphone in his hand. His face was obscured by a massive kasa, the hat covering his features completely.

“District 12,” the Fatui spoke into the microphone and it was the same monotoneous voice announcing their names over the speakers. “You have 20 minutes.”

“Thank you,” Kaveh said out of reflex more than anything. He squinted up but the Fatui didn’t say anything else, though he saw movement in the dim light upstairs. The man in the fox mask was watching him intently, a smirk playing on his lips. Behind him, the beak mask of Dottore came into view.

Kaveh wasn’t prepared for the emotions flooding his chest at the sight. He had told himself the night at the party wasn’t a big deal because nothing bad had happened, Alhaitham had intervened and it wasn’t like Dottore had forced him, right? He had reached too close to the sun, that was all.

But then he remembered those entitled, gloved hands on him and how he paraded Kaveh around like putting an invisible leash around his neck, dragging him to the bed. And he remembered Tighnari and the fear in his eyes, the darkness, the fog. They had taken the light from him long ago. They would take so much more from so many more tributes.

Kaveh rushed over to the weapon rack and searched through the many boxes at the bottom, where other equipment like ropes and bottles were stored until he found the paints he had worked with together with Sayu. He pushed the boxes into the middle of the room without unpacking and went to work with the first brush he found.

The colors were softer than during the party. Rose-gold and bronze, a soft hint of cyan instead of dark shadows. Hastily rendered ruffles of fabric, gorgeous sheets spanning across a majestic bed. Luxury bleeding over the gym floor in gold and pink.

Kaveh was on his knees, the colors sticking to his palms and wrists as he squeezed them hastily out of the bottles and mixed them to the side. White, silver, orange, merging, evolving. He crawled over the floor, directed by wherever the brush might take him, his vision unable to stray. He painted the night from memory, the beautiful tragedy woven in between silken sheets. The bed Dottore had invited him into. Where he would have taken everything in exchange for Alhaitham’s life. Where he had taken so many more before. Where he had pinned Tighnari’s ears onto his head, maybe.

Kaveh forced his hand to still as he drew the sharp contrast into the middle of the mattress. Dottore’s leather gloves. The black gnawed into the painting with its ugly truth but it wasn’t enough for Kaveh. He reached for the red.

The fingertips of the gloves turned red but the color trailed upward until almost reaching the pillows before he stopped. Kaveh tossed the brush aside and grabbed the whole bottle, emptying the crimson color into his palms. He stopped, heart hammering in his chest.

Be smart about it, Alhaitham’s voice echoed in his head.

Kaveh looked up to the alcove. The Fatui all gathered at the railing, watching him intently. Dottore stood in their midst, a morbid smile peaking out from under his mask.

Kaveh pressed his fingers between his legs and dragged them up to his waistband before he sat down on the painted bed, positioning himself so that the red in his lap spilled right into his work.

He canted his chin upwards but didn’t look at them anymore.

Alhaitham would f*cking kill him.

His whole body was trembling but he refused to give up his stance, refused to look at what he had created, Dottore’s bed, his gloves and himself if he had agreed to his deal. A masterpiece of blood and gold, defiance, bordering on a revolt. A terrible silence coated the paint and his shaking self until finally—

“The time is up, District 12, you are dismissed.”

Kaveh got up and made straight for the door, a trickle of red following his steps all the way out.

“And then I tried throwing my spear at a target and it landed in a power socket instead—so they either are gonna be impressed or I’ll be a joke at Fatui parties for the next ten years,” Candace sighed, hiding her face behind her hands as she recalled her presentation for Nilou and Dehya perched on the sofa with her. Alhaitham hovered behind them, eyes pinned to the wall where a livestream was being projected that would announce their achieved scores soon. The moderators Lyney and Lynette were currently talking about the upcoming interviews, stirring the hype for the games.

Tighnari and Cyno sat on the second sofa; Tighnari’s legs were crossed, in his lap one of Nilou’s infamous clipboards where he would note down the scores of the tributes for a quick analysis. Cyno watched over his shoulder as he nervously doodled senseless patterns on the edge of the paper.

The presentations moving one day forward had been an immediate answer to their change of plans of training in private. No doubt Dottore’s doing. Tighnari didn’t show it in front of their tributes but he was seething. He knew he was chained to the Fatui’s leash until the end of his life but the flippant demonstration of power made him furious.

“We’ll still be fine,” Cyno said in his calm, deep voice next to him as if reading his mind. He was sitting closer than he had to be but Tighnari wouldn’t complain. The last days had been more than stressful and if it weren’t for Cyno, he would forget to eat and drink and sleep; the other hovered over him as much as he did over his tributes. Cyno’s stoic demeanor had nothing on his caring heart. “They can play with us all they want, we don’t need the scores.”

“What score did you get last year?”

“A four.”

“How?” Tighnari would never forget the compilations of Cyno’s killstreak in the arena. He moved like he did during his training sessions. Like an extension of his spear, like a snake and a wolf in one, lethal beyond comprehension with almost superhuman agility.

“I didn’t really do anything during the presentation. I did some stretching for my training later that night, that was all,” Cyno shrugged. It wasn’t unusual for tributes to play dumb or hide their strength. A low score would avoid attention and could give a capable fighter an advantage. But something told him, Cyno hadn’t done it to be strategic about it.

“You didn’t want to play by their rules,” Tighnari whispered softly, his throat growing tight.

“I refused to entertain them,” Cyno agreed, stealing the pencil from Tighnari’s hand to let it dance over his knuckles like he did it with his much bigger spear. Calloused hands flexed and rough fingers twirled the pen with ease. “At least, until I had no other chance but to do so.”

Cyno’s first kill had come so quickly, Tighnari remembered the outcry between the mentors in the game room. Another tribute had approached him and before he had even been able to raise his weapon, Cyno’s spear had punctured his heart. The instinct of survival was a ruthless, unstoppable force.

The door of their suite opened and Kaveh entered with an exhausted exhale.

“Kaveh, Archons, what happened to you?!”

“Are you hurt?!”

The girls crying out sent Tighnari immediately into high alert. He jumped off the sofa and turned around to look. Kaveh was still dressed in his training clothes but his hands were dripped in blood, as was his lap—something rotten crashed into Tighnari’s stomach. Had Dottore—

“It’s paint, it’s just paint!” Kaveh blurted out when he saw their shocked faces.

Alhaitham stopped, already half-way through the room. His nonchalant expression had dropped and left behind a look of pure horror until the realization settled in. He pressed a hand onto his mouth to hide his shock and pivoted on his heel with a muttered curse, approaching the bar provided for them. Tighnari expected him to reach for the whiskey but he gripped the table until his knuckles turned white instead.

“Archons,” Tighnari slumped onto the sofa. “I swear you’ll give me a heart attack one day.”

“Sorry,” Kaveh sheepishly said and plopped down next to Nilou. “I just played into my strengths like you advised me to do.”

“And what kind of camouflage art operates with this much red?” Alhaitham’s voice cut through the room with so much sharpness it caused Kaveh to flinch. Tighnari opened his mouth to defend Kaveh when he saw the clear guilt on the blond’s face.

“Kaveh,” he said although he knew he didn’t want to hear the answer. “What did you paint?”

“Uhm—well, the party?”

“What party?”

“Dottore’s party.”

A vein started to twitch above Tighnari’s right eye. He felt the little hairs in his neck standing on end as he stared down his squirming friend. Cyno plucked the clipboard from his grip because it was close to splintering.

“Dottore’s party.”

“Mhm,” Kaveh hummed, dodging their eyes. “Dottore’s party.”

“What part of Dottore’s party, Kaveh?”

“The—uhm, the bad part.”

“You are a f*cking idiot,” Alhaitham hissed, stepping closer again. He grabbed onto the backrest of the sofa and it started to shake in Tighnari and Cyno’s backs. “You told me you wouldn’t give yourself to them and now—what the f*ck were you thinking, Kaveh?!”

“It’s a form of expression! The only voice I have in this damn place! I was sending a message through my art!” Kaveh’s tone switched from remorseful to angry and Tighnari knew at once that his friends were spiraling like they always did during their many arguments.

“What kind of message should that be, hah?!” Alhaitham pointed at the red mess all over Kaveh. “An invitation for Dottore to rape you?!”

“Haitham!” Tighnari jolted off the sofa a second time while the others gasped at his crass choice of words. Kaveh rose to his feet, splaying his splattered hands like he was one second away from launching through the room at Alhaitham’s throat.

“How can you say that after what you witnessed?!” Kaveh hissed, eyes glinting like embers.

“How can you paint yourself on his bed after what he almost did to you?!” Alhaitham shot back.

“Stop it. Calm down,” Tighnari chimed in, approaching Kaveh but it was too late. The blond was already rounding the sofa to meet Alhaitham face to face, both of them bristling like one stray spark might cause an explosion. Kaveh lifted his chin in an aggressive invitation and Alhaitham abandoned all reason and seemed wanting to take it.

“I showed him that I know what he’s doing—that I know his secret!”

“You think it’s a secret?” Alhaitham burst into a bleak scoff. “Open your damn eyes, Kaveh. Everyone knows. What do you think is waiting for you after the games?!”

“After the games…?” Kaveh muttered, brunch scrunching up in confusion and Alhaitham brushed him off with a sound bordering on a hysteric laugh.

“Do you think the world ends once the games are over? Do you think your knowledge about Dottore’s dirty secrets will protect you in any way? What do you think will he do to you once you come out of that arena, hah? Did you f*cking think about that, Kaveh?!”

“I will protect him,” Tighnari stepped between them, yanking Kaveh back by the shoulder because the blond looked too stunned for a retort, all color drained from his cheeks.

“You couldn’t even protect yourself,” Alhaitham gestured vaguely at Tighnari’s fluffy fox ears and tail but his words might have been a knife against them just the same. Tighnari’s chest grew cold. “Kaveh has to understand that—”

“Get out,” Tighnari pushed out between clenched teeth.

“What?” Kaveh blinked, long lashes dewy.

“I said get out of here,” Tighnari glared up at Alhaitham, who was staring right back, mouth hanging open as if he wanted to protest. His tail fluffed up and he bent his knees, felt his gums throbbing with an animal instinct. “Both of you. Go to your f*cking rooms. And don’t come out until the interview. I don’t wanna see you right now.”

“Tighnari I didn’t—”

“Do you want to tell me you didn’t mean it? We both know you don’t say stuff you don’t mean, Haitham, so spare me the f*cking bullsh*t. Come off your high horse. You are not the only one able to protect and care about Kaveh. In fact, dozen of people do, back home, you know, the place where you decided to be a coward instead of facing your damn feelings, leaving me with this f*cking mess!”

When Alhaitham wouldn’t move, Kaveh tugged softly at his sleeve, clearly the smarter one of the two for one glimpse at Tighnari’s furious grimace was enough for him to hightail out of the common room. But when the blond wanted to drag Alhaitham into his bedroom, Tighnari clicked his tongue.

“Separate rooms, Kaveh.”

“What the f*ck?! You're not our dad, calm down!” Kaveh huffed.

“I’m your mentor and you will listen to me! Because the last time I left you two conspiring alone, you decided to break my rules and trust by sneaking off to Dottore’s party. So, go to your f*cking room, Kaveh, before I forget myself.”

Although he was accusing Tighnari of acting as a strict parent right now, Kaveh showed the dramatics of a raging teenager as he stomped to his room with an exaggerated scoff and slammed the door shut. They heard a muffled scream and then a dull thud, like the blond had flung himself onto his bed. Tighnari crossed his arms in front of his chest and locked Alhaitham back in his piercing sight.

“If you think I’m letting you send me to my room like a child then—”

Tighnari didn’t blink. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest and his canine teeth almost cut open his lower lip but he didn’t even flinch under Alhaitham’s dark stare. The taller one swallowed the end of his threat and turned on his heels. Seconds later, Alhaitham’s door fell shut.

The adrenaline vanished as quickly as it had spiked. Frustration warred in Tighnari’s chest and he pressed a hand onto it as if able to suffocate it with the gesture.

“Uhm, we better go. Busy day tomorrow,” Nilou said softly, ushering Candace and Dehya toward the door. The girls looked extremely relieved to be dismissed and awkwardly waved at Tighnari before slipping outside. Cyno was the only one Nilou was still slightly scared of, which was why she didn't shoo him out. He was sitting on the sofa still as a statue as if he hadn’t witnessed a total meltdown of District 12 a mere second ago.

“Bet you are regretting our alliance now, hm?” Tighnari cracked a humorless joke and zoomed in on the bar. He uncorked the glass vial of whiskey with shaking hands and prepared himself a glass. When Cyno nodded, he did the same for him. They clinked their glasses together softly, like they had at the sky lounge, only now they were both seated on plush sofa cushions in a dimly lit room.

Tighnari savored the drink on his tongue until it tingled with numbness and was able to drown out Alhaitham’s words still ringing in his ears. His tail curled against his thigh.

Alhaitham was right. After his own games, Tighnari hadn’t been able to protect himself. But he also had been a scared and scarred fifteen-year-old boy. He remembered waking up in the medical ward of the Winter’s Palace, his head heavy and throbbing like something was lodged inside. He remembered the searing hot pain in his spine and how his gums had bled and itched.

Cyno’s hand steadied his wrist when Tighnari’s whiskey threatened to slosh over the rim of the glass. Tighnari’s lashes fluttered and he found himself under Cyno’s attentive gaze.

“Another anxiety attack?” the other asked calmly and without judgment. Tighnari hunched up his shoulders anyway and scrambled for the carefree mask to slip back into place. He shook his head, dispersing the shadows of the past in his mind with the motion.

“No. No, I’m okay,” he took another sip of whiskey and his glass was empty. Cyno got up and brought the whiskey over, pouring him another before he carefully sat down, making sure to dodge Tighnari’s restless tail. “They are driving me crazy, that’s all.”

“Being a mentor is a lot more difficult than I expected,” Cyno mumbled, weighing the words in his mouth like Tighnari was the alcohol. Under his questioning look, he added: “I thought the games would start once they are dropped into the arena but it started the moment we set foot into Snezhnaya.”

“Yeah," Tighnari took another sip. He knew he shouldn’t, that this was the worst way to cope but the amber liquid running down his throat seemed to disinfect the old wounds the Fatui had carved into him and the numbness was a welcoming change to the turmoil in his mind. He sank deeper into the cushion and watched how Cyno twirled the glass in his hand. “We are their playthings, no matter if mentor or tribute.”

The little scar on Cyno’s hand drew him in again, that small, white lightning parting dark skin, rippling whenever he moved. Tighnari reached out and brushed his thumb over it without thinking. Cyno’s hand stopped twirling, hovering between them. His red eyes darted upwards, a glint of ember between white, unruly hair. When he didn’t pull away, Tighnari’s fingertip drifted over the shape of his scar and the back of his hand, skin soft until he reached his knuckles, rough and calloused and split open in some places as if Cyno had punched something or someone not long ago.

“Tighnari," Cyno whispered and his voice was still so infuriatingly calm. If Alhaitham was guarded, Cyno was a master in veiling his true intentions. It made Tighnari want to crack open his shell even more. He finished his second drink and slammed the empty glass on the coffee table.

“Drink up," he demanded, a hint of his former authority still present. That dark and unforgiving aura able to keep Alhaitham and Kaveh under control. To keep everything under control. Tighnari watched how even Cyno gave into it and finished his drink. The moment the glass left his grasp, Tighnari laced their fingers together. His thumb came down on the scar again, pressing against it with more vigor.

“We shouldn’t have made that alliance," Tighnari confessed.

“Why do you think that?” Cyno squeezed his hand and leaned back a little to observe him better. There was a drop of whiskey left on Cyno’s lower lip, framed by his white hair cascading down his right shoulder. His eyes were open wide, taking him in with a mixture of surprise and something darker, something that needed to stay contained at all costs. It created a dip in Tighnari’s stomach.

“Because I think when the point in the games comes where we have to break it off, it will destroy us,” Tighnari pulled his hand away because he felt it becoming sweaty, felt the anxiety rising in his throat. He grabbed the whiskey and poured himself a third glass despite knowing better. When he finished taking a desperate sip, Cyno’s finger pushed under his chin, turning Tighnari’s head toward him.

“Don’t say that,” his sharp gaze scraped over Tighnari’s face like a brush, like he was planning to draw him from memory alone. It was an intensity that caused Tighnari to shiver despite his senses pleasantly numbed by alcohol. “They can’t destroy us so easily.”

“Nothing about this is easy,” Tighnari wrenched out past the lump in his throat.

“No,” Cyno bit his lip and nodded. His finger followed the underside of Tighnari’s jaw and ghosted down the length of his throat. He found himself tilting up his chin, baring his throat in invitation. The tender touch turned more certain when Cyno’s rough palm smoothed against his neck. “But we have proven in our games already that we are not content with letting them win.”

Tighnari abandoned the whiskey for leaning into Cyno’s touch because it had the same mind-numbing effect, created the same pleasant buzz on his nerves. He was so warm. He was so rough. He was perfect. His lashes fluttered as he leaned in further. Cyno’s hand vanished from his neck and grabbed at his back instead, the pressure enough for Tighnari to scramble forward on the sofa, and then he was sitting in his lap, thighs draped over Cyno’s.

“We shouldn’t,” Tighnari whispered, mesmerized by how Cyno raised his head to look at him, eyes glittering like firelight. The other hummed in something akin to approval but neither of them moved away.

He had thought about it, of course. More often than not. At the bar, after talking to Cyno for merely half an hour, laughing at his horrible jokes, and already fantasizing about how Cyno’s muscles would press him into dust against a wall. After seeing him train at the gym, wondering what it would feel like to be held by those calloused palms. And in between, when their tributes weren’t around demanding their full attention—but he hadn’t entertained it. Because he couldn’t think of something messier than hooking up with another mentor. They could strike up alliances all they wanted but in the end, they would stay rivals because only one tribute could make it home.

And still, Tighnari wanted to make the bad decision. He really couldn’t blame Kaveh and Alhaitham for their mistake if he climbed into Cyno’s lap at the first chance he got. But he was so desperate, starving for something apart from pain, ever echoing in his heart, pressing onto his lungs. He wanted to feel alive again. Wash death of his skin by lying with one of its most vicious soldiers.

Though, Cyno looked far from the dangerous tribute he had been last year as he looked up at Tighnari. His gaze wandered from Tighnari’s lips to his neck and there was something foreign about it, something…shy.

Tighnari brushed a white strand behind Cyno’s ear and dragged his fingers over the edge of his jaw all the way to his mouth, stealing that hint of whiskey and sin from his glistening lower lip. He brought it up to his own mouth, lips closing around it briefly. Cyno’s breath hitched.

“We shouldn’t,” Tighnari repeated, voice airless. “But I want to. f*ck, I want to so bad.”

“’nari—,” he wasn’t sure if the first syllable of his name was suffocated by Cyno’s little gasp or if the nickname merely had slipped but it ignited a fire in him just the same. Those rough palms on his back clawed into his shirt, urging him closer and Tighnari’s tail swished in excitement, his hips bucking forward. He buried his fingers in Cyno’s messy hair and pulled him in.

“Let me taste you, please—”

Cyno’s answer was a raspy yes, barely escaping him before their lips crashed together. Tighnari sucked his lower lip between his own, unable to bring up much patience. Instead, his tongue licked into Cyno’s mouth as he throned on top of him, tasting his teeth and moans, the note of whiskey prickling on his lips.

The grip on his back faltered and then Cyno grabbed him by the waist, pressing them even closer. Heat rushed down his spine like a wave and Tighnari’s hips rocked forward with delirous need but Cyno’s hold on him was unforgiving, his muscles hard and flexing. And oh, that was—that was—

“f*ck, that feels so good,” Tighnari slurred into their messy kiss. It was too frantic to be coordinated but it was also able to burn through all the sorrow, all the emotions warring inside of him, and replace them with a white-hot urge to drown in Cyno’s touch. Cyno let himself fall into the sofa, allowing Tighnari to trap Cyno’s thick, muscular thigh, grinding up against him.

Cyno’s guarded face shattered on a moan when Tighnari’s thigh pressed up between his legs in return. His lips, redkissed, went slack and Tighnari licked between them with an almost possessive growl. He could feel Cyno hard and heavy against him and caught his mouth for another hungry kiss to muffle their moans.

“Let’s go to my room,” Tighnari sighed between kisses and his stomach swooped with how Cyno trembled against him, had his voice melt into a purr: “I wanna feel all of you, Cyno—”

Suddenly, Cyno jerked back his head by arching his neck and although Tighnari’s first impulse was to latch onto it, the other gulping for air stopped him. He propped himself up on his elbows, tail wagging uncontrollably, while Cyno tried to level his breathing.

He was draped on the sofa like pure sin, his sharp edges soaked into a breathtaking softness. He seemed aglow, white hair splayed like a halo around him, eyes heavy-lidded and lips kissed crimson. His pupils were blown wide but unseeing and it took a few gasping breaths for Cyno’s gaze to become clear again.

“Are you alright?” Tighnari asked and tried to untangle their limbs, concerned. He had enough triggers thanks to the arena to know that one false touch could conjure a vivid day of the Hunger Games. But Cyno didn’t look panicked or stressed. He looked flustered.

“I didn’t want to stop,” Cyno mumbled as if he was surprised by his own reaction, a dark furrow between his brows. “But I would feel guilty for not telling you. I don’t want you to have wrong expectations.”

“We don’t have to have sex,” Tighnari hurried to say, and finally, after hidden away by searing desire, the shame crept into his cheeks in dark red. “I shouldn’t have said that, I mean I want to but only if you want to, and it’s fine if you—don’t…”

“That was my first,” Cyno cut him off, now a hint of panic in his voice. He sat up so abruptly, his forehead crashed against Tighnari’s chin and they both grunted in pain. Tighnari scrambled off him and covered his lap with his fluffy tail, for one time thankful for the appendage.

“Your first…?”

“Kiss.”

“Wh-What?”

They stared at each other, eyes wide and mouths formed into perfect O shapes. Cyno was the first to break eye contact by falling back into the sofa and draping his arms over his face with a mortified groan. Tighnari stared at his defined forearms, at the wave of muscle on his stomach, now with his shirt ridden up to his toned waist.

Of course.

If he had used his brain for just a second he would have known Cyno had no experience. Cyno, holding the Hunger Games kill record with 19 years. Cyno, who denied interviews and didn’t say a word on camera. Cyno, who wasn’t able to talk up sponsors and avoided every mentor apart from Tighnari like the plague.

“f*ck, I’m so sorry, Cyno.”

The other sat up in confusion. “What? Why?”

“For stealing your first kiss like that. I jumped you like a damn animal! What the f*ck is wrong with me?!”

“Nari, stop, it’s fine,” it was then, Cyno’s unreadable frown, that ever-present mask, finally slipped completely to make room for a laugh. His lips pulled upwards and revealed a little dip cutting into his left cheek and Tighnari almost melted at the sight. The rough chuckle rolling off his tongue was even better. Tighnari’s heart fluttered and he knew neither alcohol nor horniness was to blame. “You didn’t steal anything. I wanted to. I really did.”

“You wanted to,” Tighnari echoed, emerald eyes round as coin.

“Wasn’t that obvious?” Cyno rubbed his neck and averted his gaze with a sudden wave of bashfulness. “I thought I made it pretty obvious.”

“Uh—well,” Tighnari swallowed his initial thoughts with a nervous grimace. How was he supposed to tell Cyno that if he had been flirting with him, it had been so terrible that Tighnari hadn’t noticed? No, he was not about to shatter his perception of himself after their kiss had branded itself straight into his core, heart ablaze and airy in his chest at the same time. “I probably was too stressed out to notice.”

Cyno nodded, accepting his explanation without a fuss.

“I guess I can be a bit hard to read sometimes because I’m always so cynocal.”

“Cyno…cal…,” Tighnari blinked at him.

“Like cynical but with my name used for a witty wordplay?”

“No, no. I got the joke.”

“You didn’t laugh, so I thought I’d explain.”

At that, Tighnari did laugh. It burst straight from his chest, shaking his shoulders and causing his ears to wiggle on his head; the kind of laughter only Cyno seemed to be able to elicit from him. He stifled it with his palm as best as he could to not wake Kaveh and Alhaitham in their rooms. Cyno sat up a little straighter in his seat, a proud glimmer in his eyes.

For a moment, they were two young souls without a care in the world. Two friends - or more? - sharing a drink and a laugh and a kiss. And then Tighnari’s eyes landed on the screen, where the scores of the tributes had long been announced. The laughter caught in his throat and he grabbed Cyno’s arm.

“We missed the scores!”

“Oh,” Cyno tilted his head and they scanned the chart in silence. As expected, the Treasure Hoarders had acquired the most points, Yelan scoring the highest with 11 out of 12 points. Outside of their group, Shinobu, the girl out of District 8 followed them with a solid 8. Tighnari tensed when he neared the bottom of the list.

Candace had gotten a 4, as she had feared. Dehya and Alhaitham both sat at a solid 8.

“Nari,” Cyno exhaled sharply, reaching the last name at the same moment as him.

Kaveh’s score was a 12.

Chapter 10: the interview

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TEN - THE INTERVIEW

“She is the Archon of Love. How could she condemn a tribute acting in the name of love?” - Nilou

“Alhaitham?” Nilou stood on the threshold of his bedroom, holding onto her signature clipboard. When she saw him, a blush flooded her face, causing her cheeks and hair to be almost the same color. Alhaitham continued to rub his hair dry with a towel, having just stepped out of the shower. He was dressed in dark dress pants and hadn’t bothered to button his white shirt yet; their stylists Aether and Lumine would change up his look anyway.

“What do you want?” he asked, more edge in his voice than Nilou could handle. She flinched at his hostile tone and stammered an apology. He heaved a deep sigh. Lashing out at innocent people wouldn’t do any good - and Nilou might be one of the Fatui but she was kind. She had gifted Kaveh painting supplies and made sure his favorite treats were served during every meal. He tossed the towel aside and turned toward her, forcing a pathetic attempt of a smile.

“Are we behind schedule?”

“Not yet," she smiled nervously. “I wanted to go through the interview preparations with you if that’s alright?”

“Of course. Should we get Kaveh?” since Tighnari had scolded them both like a pair of f*cking toddlers, he hadn’t seen the blond. Alhaitham had hoped for him to sneak into his room late at night but Kaveh had remained absent. It made him restless, caused his nerves to be alight with unease. Logically, he knew Kaveh couldn’t come to harm in their suite. Dottore’s arm wouldn’t reach that far, not this close to the games.

“Kaveh requested a solo briefing.”

“What?” again his tone sounded like a declaration of war and Nilou mumbled another apology. She waved with the clipboard as if trying to fend him off. Alhaitham crossed his arms with a glare. “What does that mean?”

“He preferred to prepare for the interview alone. Well, with me. But not with you. So, here I am! I’ll let you finish getting dressed and then we can go over the schedule together in the living room,” Nilou pivoted on her heels and left his room with a swish of her bright blue skirt, clearly relieved to be out of his presence. Alhaitham scowled at Kaveh’s closed bedroom door across from his, his gaze so frosty he wouldn’t be surprised if icicles appeared on the doorframe.

Five minutes later he sat down on the sofa, fully dressed but distracted. He continued to stare past Nilou’s head at Kaveh’s door, which kept closed. He didn’t even know if Kaveh was here or if he was training with Dehya and Candace in District 10’s suite.

“So," Nilou cleared her throat, carefully grasping for his attention. “We want to think about how we want to approach the interview. Personally, I think you have laid some great groundwork during the Reaping and the grand entrance at the Colosseum. We should definitely focus on your protectiveness toward Kaveh.”

“Is that what you told Kaveh?” Alhaitham’s eyes narrowed.

“No,” Nilou fumbled with her clipboard. He was starting to feel bad for how he was tormenting her but his sour mood was a directionless, petty monster crawling all over the place and he was too furious to keep it on a leash. “Kaveh’s strategy is a different one. But it won’t interfere with yours.”

“Did you see that he got a 12 in the rankings?” Alhaitham ran a nervous hand through his hair. When he had seen the scores on the TV in his bedroom, his anger had been reignited immediately. The 12 was a punishment, Dottore’s answer to Kaveh’s art. Alhaitham had done everything to pose a threat to the Treasure Hoarders during the open training hours but a 12 shifted the target from his back onto Kaveh’s and shuffled the board anew.

“Yes,” Nilou sighed. “That’s…unfortunate. But we can use it to our advantage.”

“And how can we use a bunch of bloodthirsty tributes teaming up to eliminate the biggest threat to our advantage?”

“I…don’t know,” she admitted after an awkward pause. She put the clipboard aside and wrung her hands in her lap, looking desperate. “I’m sorry, Alhaitham. I really am. I can’t help you with fighting strategies but I can help you through the interview. So, please, will you let me help you?”

“Okay,” he sank into the sofa, inhaling a calming breath. “So, I just act like I did during the entrance show? Is that the strategy?”

“I don’t want you to act,” Nilou’s big eyes shimmered in the sunlight filtering into their common room. Alhaitham’s gaze flicked away from Kaveh’s door to the window. Snowflakes dusted the glass like powdered sugar. As always, the world the Fatui had created, basked in ridiculous beauty despite the tragedies it wrote. “I want you to be honest.”

“I thought we were supposed to smile and be grateful for the opportunity to be sent to the slaughter?” Alhaitham arched a brow, unsure what Nilou was getting at.

“Well, this strategy might work for some people but not you, don’t you think?”

It was her most brazen statement yet but also the moment Alhaitham realized Nilou was good at what she did. She might be shy and reserved but she observed - just like him. He straightened his shoulders, noddding at her to go on. “No one will believe you if you start smiling at the audience. Ever since the cameras have caught ahold of you, you have been this unmoving force around Kaveh. I want you to be exactly that.”

“But Kaveh won’t be up there with me. The interviews separate us.”

“Yes,” Nilou’s cheeks ignited with excitement. “And you will be furious about that.”

Alhaitham tossed the thought around in his mind, slowly realizing what she was getting at. “Go on.”

“How dare they separate you during the precious, spare time you have left together? You have no appreciation for the Fatui and their antics. You are here because of Kaveh, you made that clear. You are here because you love him and not even the Tsaritsa can take that away from you.”

Nilou pressed her hand onto her lips as soon as the words had slipped out as if she expected the Tsaritsa to punish her immediately. Alhaitham’s heartbeat fell off-rhythm.

“After all we went through, you want us to challenge the Tsaritsa even more?”

“She is the Archon of Love, Haitham,” Nilou whispered, still afraid but there was also determination in her voice, a spark of rebellion he hadn’t expected. “How could she condemn a tribute acting in the name of love?”

Alhaitham’s gaze wandered back to Kaveh’s closed door. The former coldness vanished from the gesture, replaced by something warm and wanting and devastating. He looked away.

“That would be the truth, right?” Nilou asked, voice soft as spring. “About why you are here?”

“Yes,” Alhaitham said. And it wasn’t even a confession. It was a fact, spoken with a sad smirk and a clenching chest. “That’s why I’m here.”

Nilou leaned in and grabbed his wrist, softly squeezing it.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean much but I will be here too. When Kaveh has to come back next year. I will be here and protect him too. For you. For love.”

He stared at her hand curling around his wrist and put his own on top, covering hers completely. There was a knot in his throat, teetering between winding tighter and unraveling. He had misjudged her terribly. After all the fighting with Tighnari and Kaveh to get his point across - that it would be him sacrificing himself to bring him home - Nilou seemed the only one who didn’t want to argue about it but accepted it as a given.

“I didn’t expect you to say that.”

“People underestimate me all the time,” she broke into a flustered giggle and retreated her hand. It found her clipboard, the gesture calming her immediately. She became serious again. “I’ve seen so many tributes walk into Snezhnaya, some of them shining so bright despite their fate. The Tsaritsa always crushed their spirits in the end. The games tore apart their hearts and minds. But I know they won’t be able to destroy yours. I know you will win, Haitham. In the way you wanted to, ever since you offered your name on Reaping Day.”

Alhaitham averted his gaze, unable to stand up to her sincere, unguarded voice.

“Alright, brief me.”

“Alright,” Nilou smiled.

Aether and Lumine had outdone themselves with his outfit. He was wearing a white shirt with a high collar, shimmering so luxuriously it seemed almost see-through, though it was nothing but a well-placed tease for their audience. They had put him in a red cape with golden and black accents that split into two halves reminding one of a bird’s tail, commiting to the theme through and through. A blue sash complimented his waistline and the jewelry adorned to his neck and ears must blind the people whenever a spotlight latched onto them. His hair was held together by red clips and a gorgeous braid and his make-up was golden and vibrant; if one spotted him in a crowd, they would think him one of the Fatui, not a tribute. Which was exactly what they were going for.

At least his outfit made him feel beautiful and distracted him from the farce he was about to put up to gain the audience’s favor. But Kaveh had committed, had given a promise to Nilou and Tighnari and now he couldn’t afford to change his mind.

District 12 was the last to be interviewed, Kaveh first, then Alhaitham. They were lined up by district behind the stage, waiting for their cue. And yes, it was the first time he found himself in Alhaitham’s presence again after their messy argument from the day before. Kaveh felt the other’s intense gaze on him, prickling over his neck in the dim light of the backstage area and fixated a blank point at the wall in front of him with fake interest.

Truth was, if he were to look at Alhaitham now, this close to be thrown to the wolves, he would crumble in his resolve, knowing full well Alhaitham would hate the plan Nilou, Tighnari and he had thought up. And then there was the problem of his heart doing somersaults in his chest whenever their eyes met because all Kaveh could think about was the other’s hands and his gasps and his praise and—

“Archons,” Kaveh sharply inhaled.

“It’ll be okay. We went over the script plenty of times and you look gorgeous!” Nilou assured him, interpreting his restless shuffling as nerves. Kaveh cracked her a half-hearted smile and nodded. “And remember, if you get nervous, Tighnari is out there in the crowd with Aether and Lumine! Just aim your answers at them when you feel yourself struggling.”

“Okay,” Nilou seemed satisfied with his answer and hugged him before making room for them to catch up with the line of tributes. The interviews had started. Kaveh saw Kaeya’s glorious self waving at the crowd and cracking jokes as if it was second nature on the small screen put up backstage.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham’s voice trickled over his neck, rough but warm. He put his hand on his exposed neck in a wave of nervousness. He expected the other to still be furious with him but Alhaitham sounded almost soft. “Be smart out there.”

“Is this another lecture?” Kaveh tried himself at a snarky tone but his nerves got the better of him. Alhaitham’s hand came down on his arm, rubbing it soothingly and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch. Behind him, Alhaitham took a step closer, their distance now so intimate, Kaveh felt his body heat through the layers of fabric.

“No,” Alhaitham whispered. “It’s me telling you to be smart. We are both doing our parts here, remember that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kaveh gnawed on his lower lip but remembered the gloss Lumine had put on there and tried to keep still. The line in front of them became shorter and shorter yet the time stretched endlessly and Alhaitham made no other attempt at conversation but remained this stoic presence in his back. He knew they would need to talk eventually, time was quite literally running out, but he couldn’t bring himself to start the conversation. He had barely slept, wishing for Alhaitham to sneak into his bedroom despite Tighnari reprimanding them. He had fantasized about them being alone again, this time between luxurious sheets and no more fabric and—yeah, that was a problem.

“Kaveh, you have to go!” Nilou appeared out of thin air, tugging on his arm and tearing Kaveh out of his stupor. He stumbled forward blindly without a look back and then there was bright light flooding his vision as he stepped onto the stage.

Roaring applause welcomed him. Kaveh blinked in confusion but caught himself quickly, remembering Nilou’s briefing. He waved at the crowd with a smile rivaling the brightness of the spotlight and threw his head back in a flustered laugh. He got on his tiptoes for a quick pirouette, showing off his outfit and then walked toward the host waiting for him.

Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter was Nilou’s former boss, the one who had put her on escort duty for District 12 this year after creative differences. She had been in charge of the interviews for as long as Kaveh could remember and she could either be a tribute’s biggest fan or their demise. She was snarky, unforgiving and thrived on the drama like all of the Fatui. She was also absolutely gorgeous in a crimson, glittery dress that smoothed around her hourglass body perfectly and with a cascade of shimmering white-blond hair falling to one side.

She had gotten up from her seat to greet him like she did all tributes and reached out her hand. Kaveh grabbed it and pressed his lips onto her hand.

“Rosalyne, don’t you know we are desperate to gain the crowd’s attention by coming here? How will anyone spare a look at us poor tributes with you looking as gorgeous as you do?”

The audience laughed and whistled and Rosalyne gently pulled her hand free to use it to hide a fake laugh behind it. They both took their seats, Kaveh sitting up straight, slightly turned on his chair so the cameras caught his sharp profile with ease. He kept his eyes fixated on Rosalyne although it was tempting to steal a glance at the crowd.

“Someone knows how to smooth-talk,” Rosalyne said once the audience had calmed down.

“How do you think I got a score of 12 during the Gamemaker presentation?” Kaveh quipped back, earning another laugh. He saw the surprise sparking in Rosalyne’s eyes. She hadn’t expected Kaveh to mention his score first. It was part of their plan. Be one step ahead at all times, pretend they had nothing to hide.

“So, you want to tell me you impressed our Gamemasters with your social skills?”

“You know I can’t talk about that,” Kaveh leaned back in his chair with a wink directed at the audience. He couldn’t make out Tighnari and their stylists but knowing they were there was enough. Alhaitham might excel at combat but this was what Kaveh was good at. Playing a crowd, amping up the dramatics, faking a laugh.

“Oh, but we are dying to know, Kaveh,” Rosalyne leaned forward on her seat, fluttering her lashes in an exaggerated manner. The audience giggled. They loved their charismatic host. Kaveh wondered how many of them knew this was all fake. A push and a pull, a cat and a mouse thrown into the first arena of the Hunger Games. The trick was not letting her get to close to take a swipe that broke skin.

“I know, I know,” Kaveh waved his hand dismissively before adopting a serious expression. “But we all love our secrets, don’t we? The tributes hide their skills and the Gamemakers their parties, I guess!”

“No, really?” Rosalyne gasped in fake exasperation and then had to wait a full ten seconds for the audience to calm down enough after the news. Kaveh’s mouth fell open and he hid his face behind his hand with a nervous laugh.

“Oh no! Did I say something I shouldn’t have?!”

“No, no, you are fine, Kaveh. But tell us more about this secret Gamemaker party, we need to know everything! And then I need to scold the Harbingers for not inviting me,” Rosalyne laughed, throwing back her glossy hair in dramatic fashion. But behind her strands, her eyes narrowed in a quiet challenge. Kaveh answered her gaze with a smile so wide his cheeks hurt.

“It was gorgeous, Rosalyne. You would fit right in. Luxurious ball gowns, delicious wine, exquisite art—I felt like I was floating through a fairy tale. It was such an honor to be invited,” he splayed a hand on his chest, lashes swinging upwards, a flustered giggle escaping him. “In fact, I hope the host will invite me again. After the games.”

The mood shifted from giddy to eager within seconds. A few impressed ohs and ahs flew up to the stage and Kaveh knew he had them wrapped around his finger. Rosalyne must know too in the way she corrected her posture and crossed her legs, playing with her moderation cards.

“Can we take this as a challenge to the other tributes, Kaveh?”

“Oh, I don’t really care about them,” Kaveh shrugged, now letting his eyes wander. Although he was still searching for his friends in the audience, his gaze slowly brushed over them all, a soft smile playing on his lips. He didn’t shy away from eye contact and saw the Fatui squealing and blushing at the attention. “But ever since coming here, Rosalyne, I’ve been enraptured by the magic of Snezhnaya. I’m an artist, you know? I’m drawn to beauty and your city is full of it, with its architecture and its people alike. I think I want to come back here, go to your parties, dance to your musicians and…share more of those unforgettable nights with someone special.”

The audience lost it at that. He heard them hollering, yelling his name and even Rosalyne was at a loss for words before she made a practiced recovery, giving a professional smile and a nod. Kaveh tilted his head and played with a conveniently loose strand of his hair, causing the crowd to become quiet enough for his next words.

“That is, of course, only if you’d have me.”

The answer was unanimous, deafening applause and high-pitched squeals, Fatuis off their seats in the audience in excitement, flowers being thrown up the stage in true dramatic Snezhnayan fashion. Under the ruckus, Kaveh finally found Tighnari in the crowd. His friend gave him a thumbs-up and a half-smirk.

“Kaveh from District 12, my friends!” Rosalyne announced through the applause, grabbing Kaveh’s hand and raising it. They both laughed at the camera and Kaveh pressed another kiss to Rosalyne’s hand before he waited for the command in his earpiece to leave the stage.

Before his departure was announced, even before the applause had ebbed, another figure entered the stage. The audience’s excitement bled into a scandalous hush.

Alhaitham was draped in greens and blacks, wearing a coat-like garment giving his entrance even more attention. He was wearing a tight black top with a split high collar and detached sleeves, causing his biceps to be exposed, though silver jewelry wrapped around the muscles in a stark contrast. His knee-high boots thudded heavily against the stage. He wore a blue feather behind his ear, the rest of his hair free of any product, looking almost reckless.

He approached Kaveh without hesitation, without paying the crowd or Rosalyne any mind.

“Haitham?” his name escaped Kaveh’s lips as a puff of air, his surprise and confusion vivid. Alhaitham plucked the blue feather from behind his ear and gently attached it to Kaveh’s hair with one of the red clippers. He brought a finger under his chin and Kaveh’s knees went weak.

The spotlight set them both aglow. Lumine and Aether hadn’t put any make-up on Alhaitham. He was wearing an elaborate outfit complimenting Kaveh’s own, yes. But his hair wasn’t styled, there was no glitter and the eye-catching feather was now part of his attire not Alhaitham’s. He looked like he had at home, in their shared living room. Faint shadows under his eyes from staying up late for reading. Alhaitham’s hand vanished from his chin and snaked into his neck, cradling his nape. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Kaveh’s forehead.

“My turn now,” he whispered into his hair and gave him free.

Startled, Kaveh walked down the stairs into the backstage area and it felt like stumbling through a dream—he was unable to process what had happened, even when Nilou appeared at his side with a triumphant smile. They walked over to the backstage screen, where lots of the tributes had gathered. Kaveh felt a dozen curious eyes on him but he could only look at the screen.

Alhaitham had just refused to shake or kiss Rosalyne’s hand and sat down.

“Alhaitham,” Rosalyne said, dragging out the vowels as if she was scolding him. “That was quite the entrance.”

“He was up here for 10 minutes and 32 seconds. We are scheduled for 10 minutes each,” Alhaitham’s tone was borderline hostile and the tributes around them gasped. Kaveh exchanged a panicked look with Nilou but when he saw her smiling still, he figured it must be part of their plan. A damn dangerous plan.

“Ah, I see. You were worried about not getting enough spotlight,” Rosalyne nodded in understanding but her eyes had grown cold. Her flustered demeanor, fake or not, was gone. She made her distaste known and the audience seemed to agree, murmuring in protest.

“Quite the contrary,” Alhaitham ignored the audience, cameras and Rosalyne and stared at the spot where Kaveh had disappeared behind the stage. “I think this is a waste of our time, so I thought moving it along quicker might be beneficial.”

The Fatui were appalled, to say the least. Like they had for Kaveh, they jumped off their seats only now former cheers of adoration changed into booing outrage.

“Oh, I absolutely love this,” Kaeya’s voice sounded behind them, the tribute holding back laughter. A few others chimed in.

“Talk about digging your own grave,” Sara agreed, eyes pinned to the screen with rapt attention.

“What the f*ck is happening?” Dehya shout-whispered but Kaveh couldn’t give an answer. He held onto Nilou and then raised a jittery hand to the blue feather in his hair, twirling it to calm himself.

“You think spending time with the Fatui is a chore?” Rosalyne lured him out further without mercy, her voice dripping venom. She would gladly let Alhaitham walk into the knife but unlike Kaveh, she hadn’t caught on that Alhaitham was going willingly. After all, this was what this was all about. The reason why he was here.

“I think everybody would think spending time with strangers is a chore when their days with the love of their life are as limited as mine.”

The noise was swelling all around them. The tributes backstage murmured in confusion but the audience, Fatui desperate for drama and stories pulling on their heartstrings, caught on quicker. Their former booing bled into greedy faces, demanding more information. Rosalyne fixed her shocked expression into her professional smile once more but it was clear, Alhaitham had managed to land a punch.

And Kaveh felt that punch in his gut. His heart hammered in his throat, breath coming in sharp bursts. The love of his life?

It’s fake, the logical part of his mind spoke up. It’s fake like your adoration for the Fatui was fake. It’s a game.

“Oh, now, Alhaitham, you can’t just drop this bomb on us! Who is this mysterious love you are talking about? Don’t spare a detail, after all, we are the Nation of Love!”

“Do you really need to ask?” Alhaitham kept his face devoid of any emotion. He merely raised a brow and gave a nonchalant, reproachful look to the crowd. The murmurs grew louder when the realization settled in, gasps and shouts filling the studio. This time, Rosalyne needed a whole minute to calm the Fatui down.

“Are you saying you and Kaveh are romantically involved?” it must be the first genuine question of the evening, the first one she was desperate to know an answer to with how she abandoned her cards and leaned forward, clinging to Alhaitham’s lips.

It was like the whole of Snezhnaya held their breath.

“No,” Alhaitham shook his head but before disappointment could settle in, he added: “But for the past five years, he’s all I can think about. I wanted him, Rosalyne. The moment I saw how the sun spun gold in his hair, the moment he set his eyes on me for the first time—but I was a coward. And now I’m here. I guess all I can do now is thank the Tsaritsa, our Archon of Love, for gifting me this bittersweet, last time with him by my side.”

Alhaitham’s words spread through his body like ink blots, rewriting their whole relationship within seconds. He felt them scrape over his bones and knock against his heart and Kaveh found it hard to breathe. The interview was still ongoing but Kaveh couldn’t listen anymore. He rushed out of the backstage area, Nilou calling out for him.

The tributes weren’t allowed to stray so he barely made it to the lobby of the telestation before security stepped into his path. Kaveh stopped when he spotted the rifle on their back, lifting his hands in surrender while his brain still demanded him to flee.

“Kaveh!” Nilou caught up to him and her presence was enough for the guard to take a step back. “Are you alright?!”

“Why did you do that?!” Kaveh hissed, jerking himself out of her grip. “Why did you force him to tell all these lies about us?! That’s—you don’t joke about stuff like that when—”, his voice broke on a confused outcry. His eyes were burning and Kaveh needed a second to realize he was crying. He wiped the tears away with a frustrated scoff.

“Kaveh, calm down, please,” Nilou begged, all color drained from her cheeks. “I advised him to speak the truth, that’s all.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Kaveh blurted out. “Haitham doesn’t—he isn’t in love with me—he’s—this doesn’t make any sense!”

Tighnari appeared in the lobby, followed by Aether and Lumine, and, lastly, Alhaitham. He was wearing his stoic expression again, all sharp bones and polished edges and the emotions in Kaveh’s chest threatened to overboil. He rushed up to them and Tighnari was the only one realizing what he was about to do, which was why his friend managed to loop his arms around Kaveh’s waist to yank him back before Kaveh could lunge at Alhaitham’s face.

“Why did you say that?! What kinda sick strategy is this?! Why the f*ck would you say that?!”

Alhaitham dodged the incoming uncoordinated swipe with a swift sidestep.

“Not here,” he said, again, brushing him off, pushing him away. He walked around him, hands pressed to his sides, followed by Aether and Lumine and approached the exit where a car would bring them back to the tribute suites.

“You f*cking coward!” Kaveh screamed after him, fighting against Tighnari’s grip. “First you f*ck me, then you ignore me and now you play me?! For the whole world to laugh at?!”

Their friends gasped in unison and Tighnari’s grip tightened around his waist.

“Kaveh, stop it! We’re in public, the other tributes will pass through any minute—”

He knew Tighnari was right but that wasn’t the reason why his tirade came to an abrupt halt. It was Alhaitham turning around and answering his accusations with a single look. The green of his eyes so tender, the fiery ring around his pupils so raw, a noose in bright sunlight, one that had always been there, too shy to wrap around Kaveh’s neck.

Alhaitham had spoken the truth.

He waited for them to catch up and together they walked to their shuttle. Kaveh sat down between Nilou and Lumine and put a trembling hand on his neck.

Chapter 11: infinite

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ELEVEN - INFINITE

“Is the present not enough for you?” - Kaveh

Contrary to the tributes the mentors were allowed to bring a few personal belongings to Snezhnaya during their yearly visits. Tighnari had brought Collei with him. Well, a framed photograph of them both in matching moss green pyjamas. It was a polaroid too small for the frame it was in, one of the last ones before the old camera Kaveh had gotten from the blackmarket in District 12 had stopped working entirely. It was slightly out of focus because they had been laughing so much but Collei’s eyes were crinkled with laughter and she looked happy, so it was one of Tighnari’s most cherished possessions.

He also was wearing the pyjama right now, wrapping his arms around himself as he sat on the luxurious bedding and inhaling the scents of home that clung to the fabric. The hint of forest and herbal tea, of buttery cookies baked by Collei, of dried lime and sumac. For once he was glad for his nose being so sensitive ever since the Fatui had manipulated his body to their whims.

The door to his bedroom was ajar and his ears twitched when he heard a dull sound from across the common room. There was a shuffling of feet and hesitant whispers and Tighnari’s mouth curled into a smile. After a quiet discussion, steps echoed through the space and then Kaveh popped his head into his room.

“Uhm, hey,” the blond whispered, lingering on the threshold as pale as a ghost. “The servant said you, uh, asked for us.”

“Yes, come in,” Tighnari patted the mattress left and right of him and Kaveh hesitantly opened the door. Alhaitham appeared in the opening, as always Kaveh’s silent shadow. They had just gotten back from the interviews, showered and changed into their sleepwear. Alhaitham was in an oversized shirt and dark boxers whereas Kaveh had wrapped himself in a big grey hoodie and long sweatpants, using all the layers to hide after what happened at the TV station.

Tighnari grabbed Collei’s picture and put it in his lap so Alhaitham to his left and Kaveh to his right could look at it. Kaveh cooed at their happy faces like he always did when he saw Collei, easily enraptured by childlike excitement. His smile melted into soft lips and a softer sigh before he put his cheek on Tighnari’s shoulder.

“I know a lot happened tonight and I know the emotions are high right now but—this is it,” Tighnari whispered, gaze clinging to Collei, to home, to the place only two or, worse, one of them would return to. “And I thought we should maybe not be alone during it.”

Kaveh looped his arm around Tighnari’s and squeezed him. “Good idea.”

Alhaitham said nothing but he lay down next to them, hands crossed behind his head while he stared at the ceiling. Tighnari put the picture frame aside and shook out the blanket before pulling it over their legs. He fell into the pillow next to Alhaitham. His tail was wedged awkwardly between them and Alhaitham turned slightly to give him more room, whereas Kaveh seemed desperate to be as close as possible. He snuggled into Tighnari’s side, one arm wrapped around him and hid his face in his neck.

“Whatever it is between you, you cannot let it come between our goal,” he said calmly. “So you either talk it out now or you bury it. No arguments in the arena, no bickering, nothing that will make you an easy target. You need to be one in there. If you want us to win, then we all need to do our part. I on the outside and you inside the arena.”

He didn’t have to mention that the victory he was talking about would still be a pyrrhic one. Alhaitham and Tighnari were both still set on bringing Kaveh home and all their strategies had woven together tonight during the interviews. Kaveh was beloved by the Fatui, their treasure to return and Alhaitham, the star-crossed lover, would give him over to them. It would provide enough approval for Alhaitham to get them through the games sponsor-wise and secure Kaveh a spot on top of the popularity polls with ease.

But all those strategies felt pointless when Tighnari, now enveloped by the warmth of his best friends, would soon mourn one of them, one side of his bed forever cold. He wrapped his arm around Kaveh’s shoulders as best as he could in his position and then slowly placed a hand on Alhaitham’s arm. The other shifted again and then entwined their fingers under the covers.

“You two are my best friends,” Tighnari whispered, eyes stinging. “My family. If I could take this from you, I would. Please never doubt that. I didn’t want for this to happen, I didn’t want for Collei’s name to be drawn and for you both to pay for it—”

“We know,” Alhaitham answered, voice so rough it cracked. When Tighnari craned his neck to look at him, Alhaitham had turned his head away from them both. The bright light of Snezhnayan nights caught the wet shimmer on his lashes anyway.

“Yes, Nari, nothing of this is your fault,” Kaveh assured him, tears spilling over his cheeks, beautiful and unashamed.

“I love you,” Tighnari broke into a sob. “I love you both so f*cking much.”

“I love you too,” Kaveh buried himself in their hug and Tighnari pressed him close, their shoulders shaking with every wet breath. They squeezed each other so tightly Tighnari’s fingertips prickled in numbness. Behind them, Alhaitham leaned over them, draping one arm over them both and softly pulling them closer. His mouth landed somewhere between Tighnari’s ears and the mentor had to hide a sad laugh in Kaveh’s hair when he felt the tears dripping from Alhaitham’s eyes into his fur there.

They allowed themselves to mourn for a moment. Even Alhaitham, not holding onto cold strategy as he hid his tears in Tighnari’s long hair. District 12 had never been as pompous or luxurious as Snezhnaya but it had been home—humid air and dark forests, beautiful birdsong and beautiful people. The colors Kaveh painted on the ground for the children, the tea Alhaitham brew for them during cold winter nights. The fruits Tighnari snuck past the patrol for Collei and Kaveh to use for their many baked goods.

When they lay back down, the blanket was pulled up to their chests, all of them staring up on the ceiling and watching the lights and shadows of Snezhnaya dance across the plaster.

“Do you know what the best part of the Hunger Games was when we were at home?” Kaveh asked suddenly.

“That we were at home?” Alhaitham offered in his usual dry tone and Tighnari snorted a laugh.

“Well, yes. But apart from that—the commercials.”

“f*ck, I forgot about those!” Tighnari hadn’t watched the Hunger Games since he had won them because, well, he had been here, trying to get his tributes through them. “Do they still show off these little cupcakes looking like jewelry?”

“Even worse! Apparently, there is a fruit gum you eat that makes you vomit, so you can then continue eating all the great Fatui cuisine, they advertise it for big celebrations and banquets,” Kaveh explained, sounding offended. Food in District 12 wasn’t as sparse as it was in District 10 for example but they still had to pace themselves during the winter. Sweet treats were rare and only affordable thanks to Tighnari’s victor mora.

“That’s disgusting,” Alhaitham hummed and they both agreed.

It was another cruel twist of the Tsaritsa. Commercials during the Hunger Games, advertising catered to the Fatui only but of course, Snezhnaya didn’t bother to cut it out when airing the games to the districts. Why not show the cattle all the things they couldn’t have, why not make them realize they meant nothing to them? A dead child? Commercial break, showing off pink and glittery desserts! A massacre near the Cornucopia? A glimpse of the new Fatui summer fashion collection!

“I understand why they do have to shove those fashion commercials down the people’s throats though. It’s so hideous, people would need to be out of their mind, dazed by the games, to actually buy it,” Kaveh rambled on and Tighnari noticed he had adapted his rare gossipy tone. The one that came out when he lounged with Tighnari on his porch, judging the Fatui patrolling down their Districts. It had been one of Tighnari’s favorite pastimes. Kaveh was a sweetheart through and through but when it came to fashion, he could be petty like no other. It was quite entertaining.

They threw around the most ridiculous commercials they could think of, poking their fun at Fatui fashion and consumerism until Kaveh’s breathing became a little deeper and his answers tapered off into sleepy mumbling.

“You should sleep. We have one last briefing during breakfast tomorrow. But for now, you need all the rest you can get,” Tighnari murmured, threading his fingers through Kaveh’s golden curls. “Sleep well, Kaveh.”

On his other side, Alhaitham inched a little closer, putting an arm around them both and placing his chin on Tighnari’s head. His fingers brushed over Tighnari’s other hand and once again they found each other, merely holding on to what little was left. They lay in silence until they were sure Kaveh had drifted off.

“Don’t lose yourself in there, Alhaitham. It’s easy to do, especially if you don’t plan to get out. But he needs you to be you until the end. No matter how it comes.”

“I know,” Alhaitham whispered back. “I won’t.”

“I love you,” Tighnari said again and his heart throbbed with a terrible ache. “And he does, too.”

Two more tears landed in his hair in response.

The morning was still a haze of grey and blue when Kaveh’s eyes fluttered open. Although breakfast must be several hours away, he was wide awake. For a blissful second, all he could feel was the comforting warmth of a body right next to him and a blanket draped over them until ruthless, bitter anxiety turned his stomach into knots.

The day of the Hunger Games.

He sucked in a panicked breath and sat up with a start, the blanket sliding off his shoulders and into his lap. He was still in Tighnari’s room but their mentor was nowhere to be seen. His gaze flickered to the side and met Alhaitham’s eyes glittering in the dim light. The other was lying on his side, face turned toward Kaveh, a grim expression around his lips.

“He got up an hour ago.”

“Are we late?” Kaveh swallowed thickly. There was too much spit in his mouth, too much bile climbing up his throat. Alhaitham sank deeper into the pillow to clear the view of Tighnari’s nightstand. It was 4:35 AM. He raised his brows in confusion. “Why did he—”

“He left this,” Alhaitham handed him a note, the light filtering through the room thanks to the snowy surfaces outside barely enough for Kaveh to be able to read it.

You need to talk. You don’t want to go in there with regrets. Trust me.

Kaveh stared at Tighnari’s neat handwriting and fell back into the pillows with a dragged groan. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and suddenly was hyperaware of the source of the former warmth. Alhaitham’s body heat, merely 10cm away from him. The security Tighnari’s body had created between them, their friend a puffer for the wreck of emotions they hurled at each other, was gone and left him with even more anxiety than the games.

“I guess he’s right, though,” Kaveh whispered, staring at the ceiling. His eyes were dry and itchy, urging him to sleep more but he knew, the next time he’d fall asleep again would be in the arena. If he was lucky. “We can’t go in there like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Kaveh threw himself around with an exasperated scoff, propping his elbow up to grant Alhaitham a fiery glare that was answered with usual poise. “I mean you ignoring me one moment and f*cking me the next! I don’t understand—Haitham, ever since Dottore’s party I look at you and I don’t see you. I don’t understand what’s happening. You declare your love for me and it sounds like you are reading your own eulogy. You tell everyone how you feel but me—why?!”

Kaveh knew the moment he started to speak up, there would be a current of words rushing between his lips, rinsing all the sinister thoughts from his heart to make them Alhaitham’s to deal with, which was why he had swallowed them so often the past days but Tighnari was right. They were out of time.

Alhaitham held his gaze and raised his hand, his thumb brushing over Kaveh’s cheekbone, stroking away a stray tear. “What is the point?”

“That’s your answer? Really? Deflection? Again?”

“No, I mean what is the point? Genuinely,” he quipped back, retreating his hand. “There’s no point in confessing my feelings for you when we are about to face an arena full of death. When we have no future.”

“And what about the present?” Kaveh’s heart fluttered like a candle in an approaching storm. He clasped his hands against his chest as if keeping it from harm this way, though he knew, only Alhaitham had that power.

The other looked like Kaveh had slapped him, eyes widening and mouth slightly agape. The resignated mask in place ever since they had come to Snezhnaya faltered, slipped off his face for the fracture of a second. Kaveh grabbed him by the wrist, heart now wide open.

“Is the present not enough for you?”

Alhaitham made an agonized sound as if something inside him was tugging at every thread that composed him. “Kaveh…”

“Answer the question,” the blond insisted, digging his nails into Alhaitham’s arm until little crescents bloomed on his skin. He feared if he let go he would lose him even before the games. “Wouldn’t even a day be enough?”

Alhaitham’s eyes darkened.

“How?” he gritted out. “How could a day be enough? After five years of wanting, how could a day ever be enough?”

He crowded into his space and Kaveh sank into the mattress with a quiet gasp. Alhaitham loomed over him, face transformed into a mixture of agony and desire and then his hands were on him, running over Kaveh’s sides, feeling out the cozy fabric and digging desperately for the heat underneath. Kaveh bent and bowed into the touch, a string to be played, eager to create their own melody and slung his arms around Alhaitham’s neck.

“Then take whatever you deem enough, I don’t care,” he breathed. “If I can’t have your heart, at least give me your teeth. At least leave me a mark.”

Alhaitham’s hand slipped under his hoodie and the shirt he was wearing underneath. Rough, warm palms eclipsing his sides, thumbs following the subtle waves of his ribs as they explored. He pushed Kaveh into the mattress, locking him in place as if afraid of losing him again. Kaveh arched his neck in invitation like he had once before but this time, Alhaitham hovered over his mouth instead, gaze flicking from ember eyes to plush, inviting lips.

“Please, Haitham.”

Alhaitham looked torn, mere seconds from splintering apart. And he did, by sinking on top of Kaveh and planting his lips onto his own. Kaveh’s eyes fluttered shut on an almost relieved sigh because this was the feeling he had chased after since the Reaping—mind-numbing, something eternal, something primal making the arena look like an afterthought. A tongue parting his lips and writing a poem against his own, open-mouthed kisses, a threat of teeth, a share of sinful moans, inhaling each other like air, entwining their souls and fingers in hair and feeling infinite.

Alhaitham captured his lower lip between his teeth and dragged it upwards until a twinging pain singed their kiss and Kaveh shivered against him. His hands were still stroking over his sides, mapping out the curve of his waist, holding onto his hips until they slipped further up, feeling out the skin of his stomach and—

“I’m not wearing any binding tape,” Kaveh gasped into Alhaitham’s mouth when the emotions flooding his mind reached his body, alight on every inch of skin.

“Okay,” Alhaitham’s hands withdrew back to his waist, thumbs describing curious circles. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No. I just—wanted to warn you—”

“Warn me of what?”

“That—uh—my chest isn’t covered,” he tilted his head away from Alhaitham’s mouth, the other’s lips brushing over his flushed cheek with the motion. Alhaitham made a low sound, half confusion half incomprehension. Kaveh became aware of the slight strain in his thighs, legs parted wide for Alhaitham to lie between them and briefly struggled between arousal and self-consciousness.

“I don’t care about that, Kaveh,” Alhaitham murmured somewhere near his ear. “You don’t need to put a warning label on your body for me.”

“Oh, okay,” Kaveh gasped, the heat streaming down his neck and straight into his chest. He arched upwards and bit his lip when Alhaitham’s hands slipped a little further up again.

“But if you care, then tell me. Tell me what to touch and what to avoid.”

“No, you can. C-Can touch me there—” Kaveh put his hands against the headboard and pushed himself down further, causing Alhaitham’s fingertips to brush over the swell of his chest. He inhaled a sharp breath, toes curling. “Yes. Yes, do it. I want it.”

Alhaitham’s hands dragged over the soft mound of his chest, dwarfing his pecs completely with his palms. He didn’t squeeze into the softness but kept his fingers splayed, focused on rubbing his palms against Kaveh’s nipples instead.

“Oh, oh…” the blond moaned in surprise when he felt them hard and pebbled against the contact, creating a zinging pleasure from his chest to between his legs. Alhaitham growled in approval and locked their mouths together again, though this time, their kiss was a lot more uncoordinated.

Alhaitham’s teeth tended to stray, describing the arch of Kaveh’s upper lip and his mouth sucked into the skin under Kaveh’s jaw before he managed to chase him down for another kiss. The pressure on his chest remained and then drifted so Alhaitham’s fingers drew torturous circles over his nipples, the touch not enough and too much at the same time, leaving Kaveh hanging on by a thread.

The other shifted above him and Kaveh’s voice grew high-pitched when he felt Alhaitham’s thigh against him, putting delicious pressure against his throbbing dick. He held onto his shoulders and threw back his head—there was not much he could do but take it, still pushed into the mattress by the other’s weight and his lips, so even as he tried rolling his hips to answer the touch, he couldn’t create any friction.

A dark rumble broke from Alhaitham’s chest when he noticed Kaveh’s struggle and then he grabbed him by the hips and moved them around. The blond yelped in surprise when he suddenly found himself on top, straddling Alhaitham’s hips, his big hands stroking back to his chest again, thumbing at his nipples.

“Hah, sh*t—” Kaveh clawed into Alhaitham’s shirt, hair framing his flushed face. The other watched him intently, observing like always, soaking up every little change, every sound, every twitch of his mouth and he reacted immediately. Running his fingers along the underside of his pecs when the stimulation on his nipples became too much, lifting his hips off the mattress when Kaveh desperately rolled his own.

“Oh, yes—like that, hah, I can—” feel you, was what Kaveh had wanted to say but all that made it out was a quiet moan when Alhaitham’s erection settled between his legs and he rocked against it with his own dick, the flimsy fabric of Alhaitham’s boxers and his sweatpants nothing compared to their heat and want.

“Come here,” Alhaitham demanded, voice ragged and Kaveh stopped moving. The other looked up at him, eyes ablaze. When the blond continued to stare, a dark furrow appeared between his brows. His hand slipped out from Kaveh’s hoodie to grab him by the neck. “Come here, come here to me, nafasam—”

“Haitham,” Kaveh felt tears welling up at the unexpected pet name—once more Alhaitham used the Sumerian language, the one that was forbidden here in Snezhnaya and under the Tsaritsa’s reign as if he didn’t want to share them with rest of the world. He could announce their love on live television but he wouldn’t use these words outside of them.

He followed, let himself be pulled down and into Alhaitham’s embrace. One hand was still wedged between them, fingertips grazing his hard nipple while they met for another kiss, where moans melted into words and affection seeped like honey off their lips. Kaveh’s tears landed on Alhaitham’s cheeks, overwhelmed with it all and he held onto the pillows to ground himself.

Suddenly, Alhaitham’s hand pressed down on Kaveh’s lower back, locking him in place. The blond gasped when he felt his sex parting slightly, making a mess of his underwear. The fabric of Alhaitham’s boxers was strained and f*ck, Kaveh felt all of him and it made him dizzy.

The grip on his lower back remained, keeping him still, fingers slipping past his waistband to stroke over the swell of his ass and Kaveh escaped a needy whine when finally, Alhaitham snapped his hips upward.

“Oh my—Haitham—!” Kaveh’s voice splintered into a ragged moan. Alhaitham was grinding up against him and the fabric might as well not be there with how Kaveh was soaking it. He fell forward with another moan and realized he couldn’t move, was at Alhaitham’s mercy, the other setting the rhythm that caused his vision to be scattered by stars with every thrust.

“Shh,” Alhaitham grabbed him by the hair and pulled him in for a kiss to muffle the sound. “You need to be quiet.”

“f*ck, that’s so—so f*cking good, f*ck me—” he was babbling at this point but Kaveh couldn’t even think of a coherent sentence anymore. All he felt was Alhaitham grinding up against him and burning every inch of skin he touched with his versed fingers. A grip on his hip that turned into a squeeze of his ass, a hand on his chest that became a bittersweet tease on his abused nipple until he arched his back and squirmed with shaking thighs.

The wet fabric rubbing against him was uncomfortable but at the same time, Kaveh refused to lose contact and get rid of their clothes. Not that Alhaitham would let him with the hold he had on him. The other seemed set on dragging him into delirium, so it really wasn’t Kaveh’s fault he couldn’t hold back his sounds.

After another high-pitched moan, Alhaitham pushed two fingers past his lips and pressed down on his tongue. Kaveh’s lips closed around them, eyes rolling back into his skull as he started to suck. He heard Alhaitham curse under his breath at the sight and slid his tongue between the digits with a delirious smile.

“Archons,” Alhaitham groaned softly. Kaveh felt his thighs flex, his body tense before he set a new rhythm, grinding his hips upwards slow and teasing, changing the angle so that his tip f*cked against the underside of Kaveh's dick with every stroke.

“I want you to cum on me,” Alhaitham whispered and retreated his fingers to swipe them over Kaveh’s wet lips. His lashes fluttered open and Kaveh gasped when he saw the dark look on the other’s face, observing him with a possessiveness that had him close to fainting. “Cum for me, Kaveh.”

He splayed his hand over Kaveh’s mouth and he spilled his moans into his palm without thinking, head rolling uselessly on his neck when Alhaitham continued to hit that perfect spot, causing his dick to throb and the heat to coil in his abdomen.

Kaveh held onto Alhaitham’s shoulders and came with a muffled scream, his org*sm crashing down his spine like a wave, cresting until his vision turned white and all the strength left his lower body. He slumped forward and Alhaitham removed his hand from his mouth, leaving behind a trickle of drool, to catch him. Kaveh’s dick twitched, everything between his legs hot and sticky and wet and he trembled in the aftermath.

“f*ck…” he dragged the word into a flustered laugh. “f*ck, that was amazing.”

There was a soft tingle between his legs still, another in his nipples and Kaveh felt like liquid on top of Alhaitham, mouth curled into a satisfied smile. No longer able to straddle him properly due to his muscles trembling, Kaveh’s thighs were splayed on top of him and he wanted to lie like this forever. That was until he felt Alhaitham’s own arousal throb between his legs.

“Ignore it,” Alhaitham brushed it off like he had once before.

Kaveh lifted his head off his chest, blinking up at him.

“Why? Don’t you want to—?”

Alhaitham’s hands came up to his face, framing his cheeks and making it impossible for Kaveh to look away. He merely held him there, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones, the corners of his mouth. And during it, his sharp gaze softened, yet becoming so much more observant. Heat flushed into Kaveh’s cheeks, suddenly feeling shy.

“I want to,” Alhaitham’s lips curled into a smile so tender Kaveh feared looking at it might make it crumble so he closed his eyes shut with a flustered sound. “But I want this even more.”

Alhaitham sat up and placed a kiss on his forehead. His hands threaded into Kaveh’s hair, cradling his nape and then he slowly turned them to the side, facing each other. He moved his lower body away from him but he was still holding onto him, overwriting the lust from before with something even more intimate.

“That’s two times you’ve gotten me off and zero times for you,” Kaveh tried himself at a nervous joke, unsure how to navigate their relationship as the post-org*sm bliss made room for hearts that were nothing but open wounds.

“I don’t care,” Alhaitham muttered and sounded like he meant it. His hand was back on Kaveh’s red, heated cheek.

His gaze roamed almost lazily over Kaveh’s features, lingering on his lips a little longer before flicking up to his eyes. Kaveh shivered. It must be the first time Alhaitham allowed himself to look at him like that. The moment where he allowed himself to unravel, chiseling through years of restraint and pride, leaving behind a look that consumed Kaveh down to the marrow, had his heart desperate for Alhaitham's teeth to be buried into it. Was this what it was like to be loved? Entirely, totally?

“When?” he asked quietly, putting his hand on top of Alhaitham’s still on his cheek.

“When you painted one of the murals in our school. When you stumbled over the bucket of paint ruining one hour of your work. You laughed despite being clearly frustrated but you didn’t want to startle the kids.”

“Archons,” Kaveh clamped his eyes shut with an overwhelmed noise. “Which mural was it? That must have been five years ago.”

“I don’t remember. I wasn’t there for the painting.”

Kaveh inhaled sharply through his nose. “I didn’t—f*ck, I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

“What?”

“Being loved by you,” Kaveh dared to open one eye again. Alhaitham’s fingers stroked his face, holding him like something precious still. “I thought—I thought it would be…well, different. You are always so reserved, I thought—”

“I don’t know anymore if you can call it love,” Alhaitham cut him off with a frown and something cold trickled down Kaveh’s throat when the other retreated his hand and rolled onto his back. “I thought love was the sun in your hair and your voice in our home. But we are about to enter an arena where we are forced to fight to the death for the entertainment of other people, all in the name of the Archon of Love. And when I saw you with Dottore I didn’t even question it—I went along with it, that twisted perception of love they are trying to sell to the masses. And I thought, oh, perhaps killing is not as difficult as one thinks if it’s in the name of love.”

“No, you are not like them,” Kaveh whispered, reaching out for him.

“I guess we will find out soon enough,” Alhaitham tilted his chin down and caught his eyes with a humorless smile. “Don’t look at me like that, Kaveh. I made my decision. I don’t regret it.”

“If you had said something sooner,” his lower lip started to wobble. Kaveh didn’t even try to suppress the fresh wave of tears gathering in his eyes because, in the past days, he had done nothing but sob anyway. Still, Alhaitham never grew tired of wiping them away, cradling his face once more.

“Is the present not enough for you?” he repeated Kaveh’s question from earlier, sighing a tender kiss into the corner of his mouth. Kaveh stifled another sob.

“We could have—I didn’t even—” he should say it back. Confess. But like Alhaitham had said, he didn’t know if it was love. He knew he loved them all, Collei, Tighnari and Alhaitham but he loved them differently. A love turned from red to black with the imposing threat of the arena. Alhaitham was right. How could it ever be enough?

“I didn’t confess to you because I want you to say it back,” Alhaitham grabbed him with both hands again, framing his cheeks and keeping their gazes locked. “I said it so you don’t forget. When you leave the arena, I want you to remember. That there was no regret, no doubts—that this was how it was meant to be, how I wanted it to be.”

“Don’t make me bury you, Haitham, I can’t do this without you.”

Alhaitham wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a last embrace. Kaveh buried his face into his neck, brows scrunched up. He knew arguing was pointless so he would keep quiet. But there was no way he would allow Alhaitham to die for him. If one deserved to win the games, it was him.

Kaveh would bring him home.

Alhaitham had never lied to Kaveh before.

He had never been shy to voice his annoyance during their time living together, had always given honest feedback for his projects if Kaveh asked for it. He had told him since the Reaping Day he would bring him home—but telling him between the sheets and between the secrets of dusk that he had no regrets was nothing but a blatant, pathetic lie.

His confession had opened the door for endless scenarios pouring in. What if he had confessed to Kaveh right then and there, after school, while he was cluttered in paint and basking in sun? What if he had kissed him that one night where they hadn’t been able to sleep? What if he had joined him in bed the many times he had forgotten to close his door? What if he had asked his Nana about it when Kaveh had been over to draw her portrait? What if, the saddest combination of words. Always spoken with a somber smile and a hollow feeling in one’s chest, unable to be filled.

What was one morning? What was the present day? It wasn’t enough. Alhaitham would never get enough of him. He had wanted to throw away all restraint so badly. Sink into Kaveh with all he had to give, body and mind and heart, ignoring the arena. There even had been the insane idea to take his hand and run away. Where to? It didn’t matter in a what if-thought for it could be anywhere.

But instead, he was sitting at their last breakfast together, the table like a coffin they were bent over in silence. Kaveh looked like he was one bite away from throwing up but Tighnari urged him to eat, claiming he needed all the energy he could get.

“I can’t—I’m gonna throw up,” Kaveh wrenched out, hand pressed against his lips. There was no more color in cheeks, not even when their gazes met over the sweet, baked goods on the plates. “Give me some alcohol to wash this down, maybe that’ll help.”

“Absolutely not,” Tighnari and Alhaitham said in unison.

“No alcohol, you need a clear head for this, Kaveh. Here, drink some orange juice.”

“It was a joke," Kaveh muttered into the glass, tone miserable. “Ever heard of gallows humor?”

“Drink," Tighnari commanded instead of entertaining his antics. He oversaw Alhaitham filling his plate a second time and nodded his approval. Alhaitham merely grunted. The food in his mouth tasted like ash but he knew their friend was right, so he shoveled it down without thinking.

“So, have you talked then? Considering you are not yelling at each other?” Tighnari asked, emerald eyes curiously passing between them. The question was enough to bring some color back into Kaveh’s face. He hastily emptied his orange juice to dodge the answer.

“Yeah,” Alhaitham said casually. “You should probably change your sheets.”

“I should—what?" Tighnari gasped and, after a few seconds of processing, almost choked on his toast. “Archons, you two are unbelievable. I told you to talk!”

“We did. Among other things.”

“H-Haitham!” Kaveh threaded his fingers through his messy morning hair, looking one second away from hysterical laughter. “This is not real. This is like the most bizarre dream ever. Give me that damn muffin before I pass out, please.”

“Well, I guess that’s on me for leaving you two alone. Congratulations?” Tighnari grimaced. Kaveh, cheeks full of muffin, gave him an exhausted thumbs-up whereas Alhaitham nursed his tea in silence. There wasn’t really a point for shame anymore. And Kaveh wasn’t something he needed to hide anymore, all his feelings were stripped bare after last night and this morning.

“It’s time,” Nilou said softly when they had finished their second plate and the awkward mood shifted into tension that was palpable. Kaveh stood up almost mechanically and the rest of them followed suit. Both Alhaitham and he would be styled for the games by Aether and Lumine, whereas Tighnari had to attend the mentor operation room.

Nilou hugged Kaveh tightly, whispering something into his ear. She handed him a tissue when they parted and turned toward Alhaitham. He bent down to hug her, a tight knot in his throat but no more tears to shed. His heart was steeled like his shoulders, his whole body strung taut for the task at hand.

“Good luck,” Nilou mumbled. “I hope your plan works out.”

“It will,” he assured her as they pulled out of their hug. Kaveh and Tighnari were still wrapped around each other, the bushy fox tail curling against Kaveh’s side protectively.

“Stay alive,” Tighnari pressed out, tears streaking down his face. He grabbed Kaveh’s cheeks and kissed his nose, then got on his tiptoes to kiss his forehead. “We will see each other soon.”

“Please, Tighnari—” whatever Kaveh had wanted to discuss, there was no time. Tighnari gently pried his arms off, casting him a sad smile before he turned to Alhaitham. They stood in front of each other, hands twitching uselessly at their sides.

“Haitham…”

“You made a promise,” his tone was sharp, already equipped for the arena.

“I know," Tighnari wiped a tear from his eye but it was no use, they were neverending as he approached Alhaitham and wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

“Keep it.”

“I will. I promise you, we will bring him home.”

“Good,” Alhaitham felt his mask crumbling and desperately forced his breathing to calm down. He squeezed Tighnari instead, pressing him against his chest and breathing him in, his best friend, a part of home and heart. Even out here, he smelled like forest and tea and childhood. “sh*t—”

He pulled away before the tears could spill over. He dodged Tighnari’s hands reaching for him another time and walked to the door. Kaveh flung himself into Tighnari’s arms one last time before he followed.

“I love you,” the blond shouted as they crossed the threshold.

“I love you too!”

Tighnari’s voice got swallowed when the door fell shut, Kaveh’s soft smile falling from his face at the same moment. They hovered in the corridor, both of them briefly floundering. Alhaitham looped a finger around Kaveh’s pinky and ring finger, arching a brow. The other nodded, canting his chin upwards and together they approached the elevator.

In the lobby of the tribute tower, Lumine and Aether were already waiting. They both took in their linked fingers but didn’t comment further, only led them outside of the building, where two cars were waiting for them.

“Wait, why are there two…?” Kaveh asked and his finger curled firmer around Alhaitham’s.

“Game protocol. One stylist and one tribute per car,” Lumine explained, an excuse in her features that went ignored by Kaveh, who grabbed Alhaitham’s properly now. “I’m sorry. You’ll need to say goodbye here.”

“No, I—” Kaveh’s frantically looked from the cars to Aether holding the door open for him to Alhaitham. He laced both their hands together and drew Alhaitham as close as he could. The other felt a familiar dip in his stomach when those big, wet eyes met his own, glittering like firelight due to the tears swimming in them. “I thought we would go together.”

“I’ll find you,” Alhaitham promised; he was well aware of the curious looks from their stylists and the Fatui around them, gathering near the tribute tower to catch a glimpse of their favorites. He leaned in anyway, breathing his promise against Kaveh’s soft lips.

“Don’t leave me.”

“I’ll come for you,” Alhaitham said with more emphasis, taking a step back so Kaveh could see the resolve in his hardened eyes. “The moment the countdown drops to zero, I’ll come for you. Don’t go near the Cornucopia, steer clear of the others, not even three minutes and I’ll be there with you.”

“What if—”

“Nothing will stop me from getting to you, Kaveh.”

“Okay,” Kaveh wrung his hands against his chest, fear still simmering in the lines of his face. “Okay. Yes. Okay. Go, we will see each other soon.”

He was swaying on his feet as if holding back the urge to pull Alhaitham in for another kiss, one that would crumble the carefully crafted facade around his heart to dust, so he turned away with a last nod and followed Lumine into the car. The stylist closed the door and they found themselves in the backseat with tinted windows. Before he could look after Kaveh, the third person in the car, a Fatui guard, put a blindfold on each of them.

Alhaitham pressed his lips together and remained rigid in his seat. No one but the Gamemakers were allowed to know the arena’s exact location. The darkness accelerated every other sense of him. Lumine tried herself at small talk until she realized Alhaitham must be far away. His mind was going through their competition and their alliances. He would get a sword, get supplies, get Kaveh. Bring them both out of the danger zone near the Cornucopia. Hopefully flee together with Dehya and Candace but if not, bring as much distance as possible between the center and them.

When he was allowed to see again, they were in a small room with blank metal walls and a circular platform in the corner, partially covered by glass. It was the elevator that would bring him up into the arena. Lumine unpacked her bag and gestured for him to undress.

“Mh,” she made an inquisitive sound. “Looks not much different from your training uniform.”

“So?” Alhaitham mechanically stripped down, grabbing the fresh pair of underwear she handed him. Lumine rifled through the bag with a frown, barely paying attention to him but running her fingers over every piece of fabric. He put on the spandex shorts and was given another pair of pants, longer this time and surprisingly comfortable, from the same material as his training pants. Lastly, a black shirt from breathable material depicted a 12 on his back.

“Sometimes you can get clues about the arena by examining the clothes. It might get cold,” she held out a jacket to him, black again with a silver 12 on the back. “They normally don’t hand out jackets or anything for protection. It even has a hood. Put it on rather than attaching it to your belt, don’t lose it in the Cornucopia fight.”

“Alright,” Alhaitham did as he was told. District 12 was never cold, not even in winter. Not really. Snow was a rare sight, the temperatures always pleasant, birds always singing. Would they be fighting in one of the Tsaritsa’s snow globes this year?

Lumine looked up at him, his old clothes stuffed back in the bag. She cracked him a smile, though it didn’t reach her golden eyes: “How are you feeling?”

Alhaitham inhaled a deep breath, letting the air flood through him, and seriously thought about the question. His nerves were buzzing but it was anticipation rather than anxiety. This was it.

“Ready,” he said calmly.

The door behind them swung open, causing both of them to flinch. A tall security guard in full body armor approached, a gun on his holster and rifle on his back. But it was a large syringe in his hand that caught both of their attention. Lumine let out a startled sound and disguised it as a laugh.

“Right, your tracker, so the Gamemakers know where to find you in the arena. Stick out your right arm, Alhaitham.”

“No,” the Fatui snarled from under his face mask. “It goes in the neck this time.”

“The neck? Why weren’t the stylists notified, I would’ve cut his hair—”

“Head down,” the Fatui ignored Lumine and approached Alhaitham with swift steps. He grabbed him by the hair, grip so harsh it created a twinging pain on his scalp and pushed his head down enough for his nape to lie bare. He applied the syringe and Alhaitham grunted when he felt something small being inserted under his skin. The warm, twinging pain melted into an almost pleasant feeling as the tracker seemed to spread out until he sensed it as a cool presence in his neck, the size of a coin.

“Get on the elevator,” the Fatui said.

“Oi, this moment is for the teams, not you—”

“You are dismissed.”

“What?!”

“Your help is not needed anymore. Leave or I will have to remove you.”

Lumine opened her mouth to protest but then scoffed, hunching up her shoulders. She shot a bristling glare at the Fatui and grabbed the clothing bag before looking at Alhaitham.

“Don’t die.”

“Goodbye Lumine,” Alhaitham said and stepped onto the elevator.

The Fatui waited until Lumine had left and locked the door behind her. The spot of the tracker pulsed and a cold shiver ran down his spine, his hair standing on end. He balled his hands into fists when the Fatui approached him, casually reaching for his rifle. Alhaitham clenched his jaw.

Was this Dottore’s revenge? Would he really have him killed before the games even started? No, a sad*st like him would like to play with them first. Would try to destroy them in public, make him suffer. There was no satisfaction to gain if he got rid of Alhaitham now.

He lifted his chin in aggressive invitation but the Fatui merely scoffed in amusem*nt before he pressed a button next to the elevator. The glass walls closed around Alhaitham and then he was being lifted into the arena.

Chapter 12: the hunger games

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWELVE - THE HUNGER GAMES

“Time to make a choice, District 12.” - Tomo

One of the most wasteful things in Fatui culture must be the buffet put up in the Mentor Control Room of the Hunger Games. It didn’t matter if they were inexperienced mentors or the renowned ones of District 1, 4 and 7 - none of them thought about eating before the games. Several servants carrying trays with refreshments were waiting in the room as the twelve mentors poured through the door. District 4’s mentor, Xiao, swiftly walked up to the front where endless screens were mounted to the wall, his face locked into an unreadable frown. The only one acknowledging them with a soft smile was Kokomi, as Tighnari and Cyno entered the control room with roaring hearts.

As they crossed the threshold, Cyno grabbed Tighnari’s hand and their grasp became so tight, their joints ached with it. One of the servants approached with water, orange juice and champagne but they both shook their heads. Yae snapped her fingers and ordered a champagne, clinking her glass against Ayato’s, mentor of District 9. Together, they took a seat at the back of the room, where, on a small podium, several couches were lined up.

Tighnari directed Cyno to the front of the control room instead, to draw a clear line between themselves and the mentors of the Treasure Hoarders. After Kaveh’s score of 12 had been announced, several districts had reached out to request an alliance, including District 7, but Tighnari had turned them down. He would rather bite off his tongue than rely on Yae Miko for anything.

Xiao shot them a glare when they leaned against the railing next to him but was quick to brush their presence off by crossing his tattoed arms. Tighnari cringed; in all his years as a mentor, he had never managed to get a good read on Xiao. He looked as unapproachable as Cyno but something told him that Xiao had never cracked a joke in his life.

“This is how we watch the games?” Cyno asked quietly, eyes pinned to the black screens with furrowed brows. “All of us in the same place? How are we supposed to discuss strategy like this?”

“Well, we can watch in our suites as well but on the first day it is mandatory for us to be here. The Cornucopia fight is the most gory occurence during the game and they want to capture the mentors' reactions during it.”

“What do you mean, our reactions?”

Tighnari pointed to one of the cameras on the ceiling.

“They use the footage if a tribute dies an especially gruesome death because with them dying at the beginning of the games, they have not much else to show. It’s then sent to their families as a gory, tasteless hommage from the Tsaritsa," Tighnari mumbled, remembering the gruesome tapes he had brought home the past years to the grieving families.

“That’s horrible,” Cyno shook his head in disbelief.

“Silence,” Xiao’s hissing voice startled them. The small mentor of District 4 canted his chin upwards, gesturing at the wall. The biggest screen on it flickered to life, causing all the conversations to halt.

They gave them a bird’s eye view of the arena, the metallic Cornucopia describing the middle of it.

“Wait, what—?” Tighnari gasped as he took in what would become a battlefield in a few minutes. The tributes were arranged in a circle around the Cornucopia, where the weapons and supplies were stored, but the elevators bringing the tributes into the arena hadn’t arrived yet. It was a 200m sprint to the Cornucopia and the way toward it was a barren, open stone plateau. No cover. No hiding spots. Nothing.

“There’s no water,” Kokomi’s worried voice sounded from somewhere behind them and a murmur went through the mentors. “Do you see any water?”

“No, nothing.”

“There has to be, there always is.”

“I don’t even see a tree,” Tighnari leaned against the railing, craning his neck as if it would magically manifest greenery out of nowhere but the bleak arena remained. Compared to all the horrors he had seen the place turn into before, this was a devastating kind of cruel. The open plateau went on for quite a bit before the arena turned into rugged cliffs and small mountains; but all of them were almost yellow in color, unnatural, and devoid of any form of life.

“They wouldn’t hold games without water, right? That would make no sense," Cyno’s palm had grown sweaty against his own but neither of them wanted to let go. Tighnari nodded. He was right, it wouldn’t make sense. Dehydration was an awful death but it lacked entertainment for the Fatui, who wanted to see brutal fights.

“Here they come," Yae announced, a purr in her voice.

The elevators brought the tributes into the arena. Tighnari frantically searched for Kaveh and Alhaitham in the circle, gasping in horror when he found them.

The artificial sunlight of the arena flooded his senses as it got reflected by the metal structure in front of them. Kaveh narrowed his eyes against the light as the elevator clicked into place and brought him out to the surface. The countdown was deafening, hammering against his eardrums with every number, warning the tributes that leaving their designated platform too early would result in a quick, merciless death.

60, 59, 58…

Kaveh’s heart was pounding so violently in his chest, his breathing was already staccato. He anxiously searched his surroundings, looking for a shimmer of Alhaitham’s silver hair. To his right, one of Ningguang’s tributes, he believed his name was Chongyun, fixed his gaze away from the center. The one to his left, a teenage boy from District 6, bent his knees in preparation for a sprint toward the Cornucopia.

The structure lured them in with its riches. In some way, Kaveh had gotten lucky. The opening of the Cornucopia was facing him, revealing dozens of open treasure chests filled with weapons and other supplies. The bounty spread thinner the further away they were from the opening, scattered between the rubble, a lot of the supplies placed so conveniently, the temptation was palpable.

50, 49, 48…

“Haitham,” Kaveh got on his tiptoes and craned his neck but it was no use. He couldn’t see him. He must be on the other side, somewhere where he was covered by the Cornucopia’s massive outline. The worst case for their strategy. His hand darted to the blue feather clipped to his hair. Aether had put it there before the arena, the feather Alhaitham had used to declare his love for him on stage, now a fleeting memory against shaking fingertips. Alhaitham's words were a mantra in his head. He should stay back, not engage, wait for Alhaitham to find him. But—

40, 39, 38…

There was a sword. Not at the Cornucopia. Pushed into the dirt, merely 50 meters away from him. Shining in the artificial sun.

His breath was tearing through his lungs like glass. Alhaitham’s shoulders were rigid but his heart was not, twisting, roaring in his chest. He knew about the risks they had taken but now he knew he had been pulled into the arena by Dottore’s strings. Tomo was to his left, Yelan to his right. Two Treasure Hoarders set on sprinting toward the Cornucopia with him. He knew if Yelan got her hands on a bow, the tributes would fall like flies. But then again, their position was subpar - the opening of the Cornucopia, where all the riches and weapons were stored, was on the other side.

30, 29, 28…

They were staring at the back of it, where the horn curled against the stone floor like a metal snake and created a slight incline, so people would be able to climb it and then descend onto the other side, conjuring the bloodbath of the first day the Fatui so adored.

He couldn’t see Kaveh.

But then, he had anticipated that. Dottore would want to keep them separated, would know not being with Kaveh would create distress for Alhaitham. The Harbinger was forcing him to make a choice, to enter the fight between mind and heart when it came to his decision-making.

20, 19, 18…

The ground was made of solid stone. A little bit of rubble scattered in between. It looked almost natural if it weren’t for the massive Cornucopia destroying the scenery. Alhaitham spotted several small chests crammed between the rocks, a lot of them open to show off their contents and lure in the tributes. The nearest one revealed a dark green tarp with three daggers on top, flashing in the sunlight.

But it was the bigger chest right next to it, placed so conveniently it would be easy enough to scoop up both of their contents in one go, that caught his attention. There was a bow inside, accompanied by a quiver of arrows. He looked at Yelan. Her posture was flawless, one foot behind the other, leaning forward slightly.

10, 9, 8…

Yelan would go for the bow. Yelan was the biggest threat. If Alhaitham attacked her, Tomo would go for him, no doubt.

7, 6, 5…

Alhaitham knew their playful sparring session at the gym meant nothing. District 1, 4 and 7 had been entwined for years, their alliances always the strongest. Tomo would be an idiot to not choose Yelan's side.

4, 3, 2…

“Don’t leave.”

“Nothing will stop me from getting to you, Kaveh.”

…1

The cannon shot blasted through the arena and Alhaitham leaped off the platform, barreling toward the bow.

Kaveh was soaring over the rubble. The sword reflected the light, almost blinding him as he approached it in a rapid sprint, the teenager of District 6 on his heels. He had so much momentum, he almost yanked himself off his feet when his sweaty hands curled around the heft of the sword.

The boy of District 6 crashed into him and tried to pry the sword out of his grip but Kaveh threw himself around with a startled shriek and planted his body on top of it, trapping the sword between the stone and himself. The boy grunted in frustration but took off after a panicked look at Kaveh’s face, too afraid to engage in combat.

Kaveh watched how he ran toward one of the treasure chests placed in the shadow of the Cornucopia. District 6 threw open the lid and revealed a magnitude of supplies; it was hard to tell from the distance but Kaveh believed that most of it was bottled water. But before the boy could reach for any of it, an arrow hit him in the shoulder. He staggered backward, a second arrow going straight through his throat.

The cannon sounded, announcing the first death of the 99th Hunger Games.

Kaveh scrambled back with a shocked noise, almost dropping the sword.

On top of the Cornucopia, Sara, Yae Miko’s tribute from District 7, nocked another arrow, overseeing the chaos all around them with narrowed eyes before her gaze locked onto Kaveh.

He bolted to his feet, the sword awkwardly pressed to his chest because the weight was already more than he had anticipated. He needed to keep it upright with both hands to be fast enough, his movement describing panicked zigzags. An arrow rushed past his right ear.

“f*ck, f*ck—” the adrenaline threw shocks into his legs, causing him to run faster than he had ever run before in his life. Still, he expected the next arrow to hit its mark, expected that swift but lethal blow in his spine with every frantic breath. What he didn’t expect was someone punching him in the back with full force, causing him to crash into the stone plateau.

The pain didn’t come. His system was still buzzing with adrenaline. There was blood on his face, a warm trickle running down between his eyes, landing on his lips. Kaveh let go of the sword to push himself up when a foot landed between his shoulder blades and a solid weight pressed him back into the earth. All air vanished from his lungs and mingled with the dripping blood.

“Ah, ah. Were you about to take off with my weapon, pretty boy? That’s not nice.”

He was in the lead, by a breath or two, Yelan close behind him. Alhaitham flung himself onto the ground in front of the chests but instead of grabbing the bow, he scooped the arrows out of the quiver before using his momentum to get the tarp out of the adjacent chest, the daggers wedged in between the dark material. He pushed himself off the stone and searched for the next treasure chest.

“Oh, you sly motherf*cker," Yelan’s voice came from behind him. “Oi, District 12, you forgot something!”

He had missed one arrow in the chest and that one was now aiming for the kill.

Alhaitham threw himself behind the next chest; he was almost halfway toward the Cornucopia by now, much too close to his liking. But instead of landing in the rubble, he stumbled over Tomo, who had reached the treasure before him. The arrows and tarp including the daggers slipped from his grip as their heads knocked together. Tomo’s knee landed between his ribs and Alhaitham rolled onto his back with an agonized hiss. Tomo throned on top of him, smiling despite it all.

“Time to make a choice, District 12,” he grinned.

A cannon shot.

The grin crumbled off Tomo’s face as they both flinched and Alhaitham used his distraction to bring his knees between them and kick him off. He grabbed the remaining three arrows, knuckles biting down like teeth, and split them in half, rendering them useless.

He wedged the tarp under one arm. The treasure chest in front of him was empty apart from a green backpack. Alhaitham slung it over his other shoulder, his body reacting blindly to his instincts, adrenaline thrumming in his veins. He sprinted away from the Cornucopia, eyes searching for Kaveh in the chaos but it was no use—he couldn’t slow down or they would catch up to him, he couldn’t run closer to the Cornucopia either, he needed to—

“Tomo, what the f*ck?! Get up! Get him!” Yelan yelled behind him and Tomo laughed.

His laughter, bright and airy and slightly manic, merged with a second cannon shot.

Alhaitham forced down his curiosity and kept his gaze straight ahead, running for a cliffside away from the center when a sharp twinge shot through his calf. He barely managed to cushion his fall with his free hand, grunting in pain.

“Got him!” Tomo sounded further away but not far away enough. Alhaitham scrambled to his knees and saw one of the daggers lodged in the back of his calf. Blood streamed down his leg and seeped into his sock and shoe. He pulled it out, teeth gritted, and took off again, ignoring the pain and the black flicker in front of his eyes as he searched for cover near the cliffside.

The voice was dripping in nonchalance, sounding too at ease for the place they were at. Kaveh wrenched out a confused whimper when he was turned around, the sword now pressing into his back. Kaeya stood above him, a smirk on his handsome face. He kneeled in front of Kaveh, turning his back toward the Cornucopia as if the fight there was none of his business.

“I knew you would go for the sword.”

“Kaeya, I—” Kaveh didn’t know what to say. He tried to remember the fighting techniques Candace and Cyno had taught him but what chance would he stand against a Treasure Hoarder? Against Kaeya, of all people?

“You wanted to get it for Haitham, didn’t you?” Kaeya took one sleeve of his jacket in hand and used it to wipe the blood off Kaveh’s face, the gesture terrifyingly intimate. Kaveh remained glued to the ground, didn’t even dare to breathe, fearing one false move would turn Kaeya into the bloodthirsty killing machine District 1 tributes were supposed to be.

“Yes,” he whispered, the metallic taste of blood still lingering on his tongue.

“But Haitham isn’t here to protect you right now. So why don’t you give me the sword? So I can look after you until your lover decides to join us?”

A second cannon shot announced the second tribute fallen within what? Two minutes of the games? Time seemed suspended in the arena and under Kaeya’s attentive gaze, stardust and snow and everything beautiful and out of place. Kaveh nodded against his better judgement and reached behind himself, pulling out the sword and flipping it, so Kaeya could grab onto the heft.

“Thank you,” Kaeya rose to his feet with an unreadable smile and then held out his hand.

He stared at those fingers not trembling in the slightest whereas Kaveh was shaking like a leaf, the adrenaline slowly seeping into the ground underneath him and leaving behind a bitter taste of regret. He should’ve run away when he had had the chance. Now he feared if he turned his back on Kaeya that sword would land between his ribs.

He grabbed onto Kaeya’s hand and the other tribute pulled him up with ease.

Yelan and Tomo weren’t on his tail anymore. Alhaitham had forced himself onward until the stone plateau bled into an endless ocean of ragged stones, boulders and cliffs. He hoisted himself up on one of them and climbed onward until he found a nook big enough to press himself and his supplies into, facing away from the Cornucopia. It was only then he rolled up his pant leg and inspected the damage.

The dagger had gone in flawlessly, leaving behind a clean cut that bled a lot but all in all, would be managable. Alhaitham took off his hoodie and bundled it up to press onto it while he opened the backpack with the other hand. Two bottles of water, a handful of protein bars, a green apple and a tiny black bottle. Alhaitham uncorked it and spilled a drop onto his fingertip.

Povidone-iodine.

“Talk about luck,” Alhaitham muttered and unwrapped his calf to apply the antiseptic before he cut up part of the tarp with the stolen - or rather caught - dagger to create a makeshift bandage. He didn’t want to sacrifice his hoodie because he didn’t know how cold it would get at night.

Another cannon shot. That must be third. He didn’t allow himself to think about it - if his wound got infected saving Kaveh would be impossible. He needed to believe that he was safe, that none of these sounds were announcing his death. That he had listened to Alhaitham and was on the run.

With his wound somewhat tended to, Alhaitham pushed his supplies deeper into the rock before he stepped out on the small ledge and carefully climbed around it until he caught sight of the back of the Cornucopia.

The fight had ended as quickly as it had begun. The Treasure Hoarders walked the perimeter, looting chest after chest with quick hands. Yelan pulled her single arrow out of the chest of another fallen tribute, someone Alhaitham couldn’t remember. Someone too young, too innocent. Like all of them, no matter if Treasure Hoarder or not.

He pressed himself closer to the rock when a cooling breeze picked up around him. He wasn’t high up yet he felt exposed. Although he didn’t want to let the Treasure Hoarders out of his sight, he started to look for Kaveh in the area. In the distance, he spotted Shinobu from District 8, sneaking from chest to chest and somehow making it out of the danger zone undetected by the others.

Laughter sounded from the Cornucopia, excitement over the obtained treasure and that they had made it out alive. Alhaitham almost lost his footing against the rock when he saw it wasn’t six but seven people in between the chests.

Like the moment when Alhaitham had lost his heart to him, Kaveh’s hair shimmered golden in the sun. But this time, there was no red paint on his fingers, just blood.

The tributes scattered. Sara’s arrows hit their mark and no one wanted to be the next target, so they swarmed out, steering clear of the Cornucopia. Shinobu swiftly snuck from chest to chest on the outskirts and then vanished between the rocks. Albedo from District 2 didn’t even reach for the weapons when he found himself face to face with Mika but grabbed a few bottles of water and took off. Kaveh didn’t spot Sayu, Dehya or Candace.

Kaeya was walking in front of him, balancing the sword in his grip and he found himself following as the fight around the Cornucopia came to a quick end. Three bodies were splayed in between the treasure chests, one of them to Yelan’s feet. A low number considering the former Hunger Games but Kaveh knew, a lot of people had been injured before they managed to escape.

A hovercraft appeared in the sky and Yelan cleaned her arrow as she stepped back after making sure the tribute had nothing valuable on him anymore. Before soon, he was lifted out of the arena; his body would now be prepared to be sent home to his parents. Kaveh watched the machine vanish in the sky. He knew they weren’t under the real sky but it surely looked like it, clouds moving with the wind he felt on his skin.

“K-Kaeya! I managed to f-fight one of them off," Mika approached them with an anxious smile. There was blood on his shirt and collarbone but it wasn’t his own. The fifteen-year-old exchanged a brief hug with Kaeya before proudly presenting his bloodied handaxe, held by fingers shaking violently. Behind the Cornucopia, another hovercraft descended and cast out a net to pick up Mika’s victim. Kaeya ruffled through his blond hair.

“Well done, Mika. You’re gonna make Jean proud.”

Mika smiled, with little dimples in his cheeks, and Kaveh feared he might be sick.

“Is he on our side now?” Mika asked shyly, eyeing Kaveh with a mixture of distrust and curiosity in his big eyes. Kaeya slung an arm around Kaveh’s shoulder and the blond couldn’t hide the tension in his body.

“Yep, he’s our newest addition.”

“Yelan won’t like that.”

“Yelan’s not my boss.”

“I dunno. I feel like she’s everyone’s boss,” Mika rubbed his neck with a bashful smile and Kaeya burst into a laugh that caught the attention of the remaining Treasure Hoarders. Sara was still sitting on top of the Cornucopia but when she met Kaveh’s nervous gaze, she nodded sharply. As if she hadn’t tried to kill him five minutes ago. Tomo was in good spirits as always, playing with a dagger in his hand by letting it dance over versed knuckles.

The last Treasure Hoarder, the young girl, Changchang, from District 4 looking a little green in the face and hiding behind Yelan, didn’t even meet Kaveh’s eyes. She was the only one acting appropriately to the horrors they just had gone through, he thought. Yelan shouldered her bow with a scoff.

“He’s gonna betray us as soon as we turn our backs on him. Better make work of him quickly.”

“He gave me the sword without a fight.”

“Then he’s obviously scheming and you are falling for it,” Yelan rolled her eyes. “Alhaitham made clear which side they are on.”

“Haitham isn’t here, though”, Kaveh hurried to say because he sensed the mood shifting. Tomo’s playful demeanor had soaked into morbid curiosity and Sara was about to nock another arrow.

“Yeah, he ran away. Got him in the leg, though,” Tomo mused, looking at the cliffside surrounding theem. Kaveh’s eyes followed as he tried not to panic. Alhaitham was injured? But no, there had been three cannon shots, right? And three bodies had already been lifted out of the arena. So he was safe—

“He made his choice,” he was grateful for the interview briefing with Nilou because it might be the only reason his voice wasn’t shaking as he spoke up. “And I made mine. I offered my sword to Kaeya, I followed him empty-handed, what more proof do you need?”

“You are not with him?” Yelan co*cked a brow.

“I want to win. Why would I team up with him if I can be with the clearly superior group?”

There was sweat running down his neck but he hoped they didn’t notice. He hid his trembling fingers behind his back and pressed his lips together when Kaeya leaned onto him further and squeezed his shoulder in newfound camaraderie. But Kaveh was no fool. He knew the opinion that mattered was Yelan’s, so he resisted the urge to avoid her gaze but kept his chin lifted.

“Fine. Get him a weapon, Kaeya, then we distribute supplies.”

“See?” Mika mouthed at Kaeya when Yelan spat out orders like she was indeed in charge. Kaeya stuck out his tongue but pulled Kaveh along. They walked into the mouth of the Cornucopia that partially lay in darkness. Kaveh almost stumbled over an abandoned spear, blind after being exposed to the artificial sun of the arena.

“So, what’s your weapon of choice? We have them all,” Kaeya splayed his hands with a mock bow.

“Weapon of choice?”

“Please, you can fool Rosalyne and the Fatui but you can’t fool me. Charm alone doesn’t get you the highest score from the Harbingers. Believe me, I have tried.”

“Oh, well—” Kaveh swallowed nervously and pretended to go over the chests stored in the Cornucopia. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, catching the threatening glint of various blades. “I don’t…I’m not good at close combat.”

“Bow and arrow?” Kaeya was one step behind him, another shadow conjured by the eerie silence in the Cornucopia. Cutting off his escape. His breath brushed over his nape and Kaveh felt the little hairs in his neck stand upright. “You’ll have to fight with Yelan and Sara for the arrows then.”

“No, not bow and—” Kaveh’s voice hitched into a startled gasp when two eyes stared at him from one of the chests. He took a step back, bumping into Kaeya’s front. The figure emerged with a scream, swinging a handaxe over his head in a violent arc. Before they could bring it down on him, it slipped from their fingers and the frightening wail bled into a garbled whimper.

Blood sprayed from the tribute’s mouth and landed on Kaveh’s shirt. The blond tried to jerk away but Kaeya’s presence locked him in place. The sword was lodged in the attacker’s torso, the heft and Kaeya’s hand pressed up against Kaveh’s heaving side.

“Archons,” he wrenched out, feeling faint.

Kaeya pulled the sword out and the cannon shot filled the arena, announcing the tribute’s death as they crumpled into a mess of blood and gore in front of them. Kaveh stepped over the pool of blood that was quickly spreading and found himself face-to-face with Kaeya.

“You’re welcome,” the Treasure Hoarder said, voice a dangerous purr.

“Kaeya?! Are you alright?! We heard the cannon shot and—” a panicked Mika followed by Tomo appeared at the mound of the Cornucopia.

“Yeah, yeah. We had a little stowaway,” Kaeya put the sword away and grabbed the dead tribute, pulling them out by dragging them over the ground. Kaveh stared at the path of blood he left behind before the face of a young boy came into view. The second tribute of District 6. Fifteen years old.

“Good job,” Tomo grinned but it was the first time, his smile was off. No one else but Kaveh seemed to notice though because they quickly went over District 6’s equipment to then move aside for the approaching hovercraft. Kaveh remained in the Cornucopia when his knees threatened to give in and sank onto one of the chests, anxiety coursing through his veins like poison.

Kaeya rummaged through the supplies and whistled in glee when he found a scabbard for his sword. He then grabbed one of the water bottles and tossed it at Kaveh. The blond wrapped his bloodied fingers around it but didn’t find the strength to open it.

“Don’t leave.”

“Nothing will stop me from getting to you, Kaveh.”

Archons, what had he done? He should never have followed Kaeya. He had locked himself into the Cornucopia, Treasure Hoarders forever on his tail. One false step and he would end like District 6. And Alhaitham, somewhere out there, already wounded, was no fool. He would find him eventually. Would he come here, challenge them all? How would they stand a chance against six Treasure Hoarders?

“Here. That should be easy enough for someone with no combat experience.” Kaeya handed him a mace. Kaveh stared at the weapon in his hands with wide eyes but Kaeya already continued his scavenging with a nearby chest. “Hit them with the heavy end. And hope Yelan doesn’t question your technique.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Why did you get a 12?”

When Kaveh lacked a witty response, Kaeya merely shrugged and continued to hum while sorting the supplies.

Alhaitham had rolled up the tarp and attached it to his backpack. The dagger sat on his belt and his supplies remained untouched while he climbed further up, hands sweaty against the uneven rock. The fourth cannon shot had pushed him into action because, for a terrifying moment, he had thought it might be Kaveh. Then Kaeya had dragged a lifeless teenager out of the Cornucopia and now the hovercraft came to collect his corpse. But he couldn’t count on the mercy of Treasure Hoarders. He needed to get Kaveh out of there.

So he circled the Cornucopia, pressing himself to the cliffs, walking in the shadow of the boulders until he got a good view of the entrance of it. The Treasure Hoarders were drinking water, sitting at the mound of the metal structure while Tomo perched on top of it like a bird, Sara’s bow in hand, keeping watch. Though he was distracted, cracking jokes with Kaeya and Mika, light-hearted as always. Alhaitham had to swallow his growing irritation.

Kaveh was still with them, slumped on the ground and against one of the chests, a bottle of water in his hand and a mace in his lap. When the wind direction was right, Alhaitham snatched up snippets of their conversation but Kaveh didn’t join their banter. His gaze roamed over the cliffs and whenever he threatened to spot Alhaitham, the other pressed himself against the stone. He couldn’t risk that Kaveh’s reaction might reveal his plan.

The hovercraft was gone and without its noise, it became harder to move quietly. He was about to retreat and wait for the night when a small stone hit his shoulder from behind. Immediately, his body jerked around, dagger drawn.

Candace waved at him from behind another yellowish boulder, holding up a pebble in explanation. She didn’t seem to have any supplies on her, only a few scrapes on her cheek. Once she got Alhaitham’s attention, she put a finger against her lips and pointed to the left. Dehya sat on top of a ledge, veiled from Treasure Hoarder's view but still able to spot them. She was carrying a huge backpack and an even bigger, metallic baseball bat and caught Alhaitham’s eyes with a sassy smirk.

“Get up here,” she shout-whispered, earning a distressed shh from Candace. But the Treasure Hoarders were still celebrating their win for their laughter echoed through the mountains like a victory hymn. Alhaitham threw another glance over his shoulder but when Tomo on top of the Cornucopia turned to face the other way, he approached the women with hurried steps.

His face remained blank but relief flooded his senses when Dehya’s smile widened into genuine affection and Candace sighed softly. Alhaitham was about to join Dehya on the ledge when a crack went through the stone underneath him.

Like thunder during a storm, the earth of the arena growled. The vibrations rippled through his bones and he splayed his arms to keep balance when suddenly, the yellow rubble parted into devouring, black nothingness.

“Jump!”

Dehya threw her upper body over the ledge and stretched out her arm. Alhaitham pushed himself off the ground and missed her fingers by an inch. He landed, his foot loosing purchase, and slipped into the opening. He crashed into the makeshift chasm with a pained groan, the backpack and tarp barely cushioning his fall and losing his dagger in the process.

His already injured leg throbbed in pain, the ache traveling up his spine and creating thick saliva on his gums. Alhaitham rolled over with a wet cough and spat out in disgust. The arena was still moving around him, the growling now surging into a full-blown earthquake.

The crunch of rock merged with Dehya and Candace high-pitched screams. The walls around him were moving, bending, unnatural and terrifying, like the arena was a giant snake trying to swallow him whole and Alhaitham fought himself onto his feet when his fingertips dipped into something wet.

Water was rising from the chasm, the source of it unclear, another magic trick of the Harbingers, but it was real because it drenched his shoes and then lapped at his ankles.

“That’s a f*cking joke, right?” he grunted and sprinted over to the still-moving walls. His sweaty palms slipped off the rock more than once as he desperately tried to find a crevice strong enough to hold him. The water sloshed against his knees by now, a cold, unforgiving embrace. So Dottore wanted to get rid of him by drowning him a mere sprint away from Kaveh?

Alhaitham gritted his teeth when he found a nook in the rock and hoisted himself up. He screamed, a string of spit hanging onto his lips, when he had to put weight on his injured leg. The pain gnawed deep into his bones and created white spots in front of his eyes but he pushed through it and continued to climb up, palms splitting open against sharp rock.

When he managed to carry himself out of the makeshift chasm, the water followed close behind. Around him, the entire terrain had changed. The mountains were sinking, splitting open, the cliffs vanishing into dark waters. The boulder Candace had sat on was barely visible anymore. Alhaitham sprinted for the nearest hill and threw himself against the rock.

“Climb, climb, climb!” Candace was screaming somewhere to his left.

“Watch out!” Dehya yelled from another direction.

He couldn’t see them, couldn’t turn his head to make them out. Alhaitham clawed into the rock until there was blood running down his fingers when a wave crashed against him with full force and the water tugged and yanked at him. He held onto the cliff with a desperate grunt, clothes and equipment now drenched and weighing heavy on him, as if he was wrapped around an anchor, eager to pull him under.

When the water reached up to his chest, Alhaitham frantically pushed the strap of his backpack off his shoulder. The weight left him with a loud splash, bringing relief and resignation in one as his supplies vanished between the waves. Alhaitham rolled his shoulder and forced his body to channel the remaining strength into his arms as he hoisted himself up on a ledge. The water sloshed dangerously close to the rim but then turned eerily still.

He fell against the cliff in his back, hair sticking to his scalp and clothes to his skin. Gulping at the air, he rolled onto all fours and carefully crawled to the edge to look for the others but he could neither spot Dehya nor Candace. He saw the side of the Cornucopia. A ring of dark water surrounded it but the Treasure Hoarders and Kaveh had saved themselves on top of the metal structure.

The cliff area around the center had been morphed into a giant lake with the highest mountain peaks functioning as makeshift islands. The waves lazily kissed the stone, following a calm but sinister rhythm. His supplies were nowhere to be seen.

The sun disappeared out of the sky and the temperature dropped almost immediately. Alhaitham shivered, wet clothes clinging onto him like a ghost. The nearest stone-island was too far away to jump without touching the water, probably a 100m swim. Alhaitham dropped his skull against the cliff, a strangled scream etched to the walls of his throat. He slammed his fist onto the ledge.

All his strategies, all his calculations for naught.

Because he had trained with swords and daggers, had read about plants and poison, had studied survival skills but there was one thing he had neglected in his plan to bring Kaveh home.

He had never learned how to swim.

Chapter 13: blood foam

Chapter Text

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - BLOOD FOAM

“Don't make me kill you.” - Haitham

Tighnari’s fingers were pulling on his fluffy ears, his scalp aching with the strength of his grip but he barely noticed it. His mouth was slashed between a curse and a hysterical laughter but he kept his lips pressed shut to let out neither, drinking and then drowning in his own emotions.

It was not a unique sight in the Mentor Control Room, so no one paid him any mind. What had been watching the chaos of the Cornucopia together, throwing around theories about the arena, had quickly changed once the first tributes had died and gotten injured. Now every mentor was glued to their own two screens showing their tributes or already out to speak to sponsors.

The darkness had settled over the arena, the night pouring into the dark waters that had been created around the area of the Cornucopia. Kaveh was huddling with Mika and Tomo for warmth on top of the structure, the girls of the Treasure Hoarders doing the same opposite from them, whereas Kaeya, his new sword throning on his hip, stared into the darkness. Tighnari studied Kaveh’s posture. He was sunken into himself, golden hair a curtain for his frightened features.

But he wasn’t the one he was worried about.

Despite his injury, Alhaitham was pacing on the small mountain ledge like a caged animal. His expression was more snarl than face and the frustration was almost palpable through the screen. He was shivering, wet skin shaking over aching bones, as the temperature of the arena dropped more and more. He had no supplies, no proper shelter, no warmth, and had cut open his palms from the quick climbing. Tighnari inhaled sharply when Alhaitham slumped onto the ground, exhaustion carved deep into the lines of his face. He pressed himself closer to the cliff in his back, curling up like a dog to protect himself from the wind.

“Hang in there,” Tighnari whispered. “I’m getting you help.”

He was about to rush out of the room to the sponsor lounge when Cyno called out for him. The former winner was hovering in front of Dehya and Candace's screens. They had been separated by the earthquake and the water but they were still within speaking distance, currently discussing if Dehya should try throwing over supplies because neither of them, growing up in a desert, knew how to swim. They weren’t far away from Alhaitham but the darkness made it impossible for them to spot each other.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to speak to the sponsors. Haitham needs help.”

“I’m coming with you,” Cyno rose to his feet at once.

“You don’t need to.”

“I want to.”

“Fine,” Tighnari didn’t stop walking but Cyno caught up to him easily. They left the Mentor Control Room and approached the elevator. Tighnari avoided a look into the mirror and instead pressed his back against it, staring down at his feet. The light flickered as the elevator started to move, unfurling the shadows around his body as if using them as paint. Tighnari slung his tail around himself with a muffled sob.

“Nari,” Cyno put an arm around his shoulders, the contact brief but static and Tighnari hissed, exposing his filed canines before flinching away. Concern filled Cyno’s eyes. He lifted his hands in surrender and took a step back. “Nari, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Everything is wrong! Kaveh is with the Treasure Hoarders, Haitham is all by himself, locked in place and the temperature keeps dropping and—” he stopped mid-outburst and wiped over his prickling eyes because the elevator doors opened, revealing them to the sponsor sky lounge “—I need to work now, please leave me alone.”

He stepped out into the lounge and a few of his past sponsors lifted their glasses in greeting, cheeks flushed and excited to speak to him. Tighnari fixed his face into a professional smile as he sauntered over to them.

“I thought we were a team,” Cyno said quietly and though his tone was free of any accusation, it struck over Tighnari’s spine like a match. He pivoted on his heels, coming face to face with the other.

“The Fatui are scared of you. I can’t have you ruin my deal with them. Keep your distance, Cyno. I’ll come find you after,” he knew it wasn’t fair, to lash out at him like this, and no, he didn’t need to see the hurt in Cyno’s blazing eyes for it to know that. Still, Tighnari left him behind and approached the table with his known sponsors, greeting them with fake enthusiasm.

“Tighnari, what an amazing first day! Lacking in fights but so rich with intrigue! Please, we need to know - are Alhaitham and Kaveh a couple or not? Kaveh denounced their alliance in front of the Treasure Hoarders and it broke our hearts!” a Fatui woman with turquoise hair and clunky glasses, flooded him with questions as soon as he had taken a seat.

“Well, Haypasia, they have to play it safe,” Tighnari answered without missing a beat, clinging to the plan Nilou and he had crafted. “But of course, they still have feelings for each other. Kaveh is in quite a predicament right now but as you can see, Haitham is doing everything he can to reach him.”

“Poor boy has gone through hell and back already,” one of the older sponsors grunted. “I doubt he can reach the Cornucopia in one piece if it goes on like that.”

Affirmative murmurs from the remaining sponsors. Tighnari straightened his spine and put on his brightest smile, the one showing off his canines. His ears twitched, fluffy and soft and charming.

“Well, luckily we could shift the odds in his favor, right?”

He had always despised talking to sponsors and had always sold his tributes short because of his own reluctance. But then again, District 12 rarely won the games, there had only been one other winner before Tighnari and she had long died and sponsors liked to place their mora with the winning teams. But this year, he planned to grovel before them if needed to get Alhaitham and Kaveh through the games. And this year, all their strategies seemed to finally work.

The Fatui were absolutely charmed by Kaveh. Some sponsors he had never talked to before joined him at the table, gushing about how pretty Kaveh had looked on his podium during the countdown, and how brave he had been trying to steal the sword for Alhaitham. And while they were still on the fence about Alhaitham because he was so different from their usual darlings, there was no denying his feelings for Kaveh and if he could bring their favorite home, they should help out, right?

In the end, Tighnari struck a more profitable deal than he had originally hoped. He rushed out of the lounge, completely forgetting about Cyno, and entered the quiet Mentor Control Room to buy the supplies via the sponsoring app installed for them. He was allowed to write a message but it would go through a screening before it would be sent out - anything that gave the tribute a tactical advantage like revealing the locations of other contestants or secrets about the arena was forbidden. Tighnari scribbled a quick message and then anxiously waited in front of the screen.

Alhaitham was still awake, staring at the sky with bleary eyes. His teeth were visibly clattering.

A small parachute appeared above him and quietly, the ordered supplies arrived. Alhaitham got onto his feet and plucked it out of the air with furrowed brows. He opened the package, needing longer than usual due to his stiff fingers but when he saw the contents, his shoulder sagged down in relief. The camera angle switched and caught his face as he lifted his head, staring at the sky, blue lips mouthing a *thank you.*

Tighnari closed his eyes and for a heartbeat, he saw those blue lips pulled into a familiar snarky smirk, the one showing him Alhaitham hadn’t lost his bite. He pressed his hand to his chest and remembered their last hug before he tore himself out of the memories. Alhaitham would make it through the night.

The Treasure Hoarders were surrounded by several parachutes. Their mentors had sent them down blankets to keep them warm on top of the Cornucopia. Mika scooted closer to Kaveh and draped it over them both. Tighnari’s mouth pulled into a frown when he saw the teenager leaning onto Kaveh. He wasn’t sure if this development was something to be relieved about. He needed to watch their conversations again, in their suite when—

He had totally forgotten about Cyno.

With his shoulders now softened, he stepped back into the elevator. Up in the sky lounge, he briefly thanked his sponsors, who were watching the games on one of the several TVs mounted to the walls, gushing about how their Mora had saved Alhaitham for the night. Tighnari excused himself from their enthusiasm when he spotted Cyno’s white hair at the bar.

He wasn’t alone but sitting next to Jean, mentor of District 1, of all people. She had a glass of red wine in front of her and was speaking in her polite, soft tone whereas Cyno was solely focused on her, soaking up every word. Tighnari slid onto the barstool next to Cyno.

“Hey, Jean. Sorry about that, Cyno.”

“Good evening, Tighnari,” Jean lifted her glass at him.

“It’s okay,” Cyno said without looking at him, though his voice was calm as usual. He didn’t have a drink in front of him but a small, glittering card. Tighnari peaked over his shoulder curiously. “It’s one of the game cards. Jean just told me about it.”

The card looked like a trading card but it couldn’t be made of paper because the picture on it, one of Jean during her games, was moving, displaying a brief video of her standing on a mossy hill with her sword pushed into the earth, both hands on the heft, wind causing her hair to flutter around her head. The moment she had won her games, Tighnari faintly remembered. Underneath the graphic were flashy names for attacks, as well as a fictional resource needed to use them. A Fatui gadget, wasteful technology, and unattainable for the districts.

“What the hell?” Tighnari said, unsure if to feel shock or disgust. “They are turning us into a game?”

“Yes, the Fatui have created a trading card game with the victors. This is a special version of my card,” Jean explained with a flustered smile as she grabbed it off the bar counter. “The Fatui who invented the game gifted it to me last year. Apparently, it's the newest trend in Snezhnaya."

“That’s disgusting,” Tighnari said.

“That’s great,” Cyno said.

His jaw went slack and he stared at Cyno in confusion. Cyno, who had bonded with him over his hatredd toward the Fatui, seemed genuinely interested in whatever sick game this was. Tighnari shook his head with a scoff.

“You can’t be serious, Cyno.”

“Is there a card of me?” the other ignored him and turned toward Jean instead. She looked nervous all of a sudden but Tighnari couldn’t discern if it was because she was the subject of Cyno’s intense gaze or because he had reacted so harshly.

“I don’t know. Would you like to have your own card?”

“Yeah. That would be nice.”

“I mean, I can send word to the Fatui who made mine, if you want to.”

“Yes, please,” Cyno hummed after a thoughtful pause. Jean nodded with another shy smile, finished her wine and excused herself. Tighnari had wanted to ask her about Mika and Kaeya and their sudden alliance and he knew she must have questions too but she fled the lounge before he could bring up the topic, leaving him on the barstool in utter confusion.

“Are you kidding me?” he finally hiss-whispered. “You want to engage in their games even more? After already going through the Hunger Games?”

“The Fatui are scared of me," Cyno repeated his words from before and it was like pulling scab off a barely healed wound. Tighnari flinched inwardly and lowered his head, guilt mocking him sharp and grating. “But I like card games and if I can connect with them through it, I might get some sponsors.”

“Cyno, I’m sorry I said all that. I’m stressed because of them being in there and I feel so helpless, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” the apology spilled out of him in an embarrassing stammer and washed against Cyno’s lifted chest. The other sat straight on his stool, fingers drumming against the countertop before he nodded slowly.

“I understand,” white lashes swung upward to meet his gaze and Tighnari felt that familiar yet exhilarating swoop in his stomach. Even if he only spoke two words, Cyno communicated with such an intensity, he might as well cast a spell on him. Every word was measured, almost like it was an art form. “But my friends are in there too.”

“Yes, of course. Yes. I’m sorry, Cyno,” Tighnari breathed out, heat creeping up his neck. His body was exhausted from being locked in constant anxiety all day but his nerves were alight, prickling where he imagined Cyno might touch him. Because it was so easy to forget about everything else when he looked into his scorching eyes, Tighnari had to look away to keep focused. “We decided to form an alliance so we should gather sponsors together. You are right.”

“No, it’s fine,” Cyno brushed a white strand behind his ear. “Your words were harsh but the truth. My presence would intimidate the sponsors and torpedo your success. I’m not good with words anyway.”

“You are,” Tighnari insisted, a startled laugh bubbling up his throat. “Cyno, you are. Even hearing your voice gives me goosebumps all over. You speak with authority, your words have meaning and they matter - it’s just that the Fatui don’t want us to matter.”

Cyno grimaced a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. But then, it never really did. Tighnari slid off the barstool and grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers before he gently guided him out of the lounge and into the elevator.

“It makes no sense,” Cyno said when they descended under the soft whirring of the machine, staring down at their locked hands. “I killed so many people in their game that is about killing people. And they hate me because I’m not happy about it?”

He lacked a thoughtful response and could merely give back the same agonized smile. Cyno took a step closer and leaned forward until their foreheads bumped together. He closed his eyes with a tired inhale and Tighnari squeezed his hand.

Although they could return to their suites to watch the first night of the Hunger Games, they left for the Mentor Control Room. Fingers still laced, they walked over to one of the empty sofas in front of the screen and sat beside each other, Tighnari’s tail curling around Cyno’s back. Neither of them acknowledged it but Cyno’s thumb drew soothing circles over his hand until Tighnari dozed off.

The temperature in the arena was so low, Alhaitham’s tired breathing produced white little clouds. He numbly monitored the interval with which they appeared and realized his breath was coming slower and slower while he flexed his frozen fingers and curled himself into a ball on the ledge.

When he decided to get up again to get some warmth into his legs, a small parachute appeared in the sky. He scrambled to his feet and watched how the box swayed under its weight but flew toward him nonetheless. He reached out his hands and plucked it out of the sky, aching fingers unwrapping it without care. When he saw the contents, a disbelieving laugh escaped him before he looked up. He knew the Fatui were watching but more so he knew Tighnari was watching.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the night before he hunkered down and unpacked his first sponsor gift. Although the prices went up the longer the games went on, getting a care package like this must have cost a fortune still.

There was a small can with a greenish salve inside; Alhaitham inhaled the scent which reminded him of their jungle in District 12 after rain and also of Tighnari’s home. It must have been sent by the botanist friends he had made in Snezhnaya. Alhaitham angled his leg and smeared a little of it over the dagger wound before he decided to wipe it onto his swollen ankle as well for good measure.

The biggest part of the package was a padded jacket in dark green, much thicker than the jacket provided by the games. He hesitated, then took off his damp shirt and put it on. When he closed the zipper, his finger brushed over an odd button on his chest. He tugged on it and seconds later, the fabric started to gently heat up against his skin, exuding a comforting warmth.

Alhaitham escaped a startled laugh: “f*cking hell, Fatui fashion.”

Good for something, at last. He made himself small and pulled the jacket up to his nose and finally stopped shivering. He wrapped his arms around himself, brushing over them with his hands and softly swayed back and forth until he could sense his fingertips again. When the cords in his neck were no longer hardened, he inspected the rest of the package.

A protein bar and an empty bottle, a message attached at the cap. Alhaitham carefully opened the message and held the writing close to his chest, hoping the cameras wouldn’t be able to catch a glimpse of Tighnari’s words. He wanted to cherish them, keep them for himself. After all, they might be the last he ever read from him.

It will be okay - T.

Alhaitham’s mouth pulled into a smile. It was a hollow phrase out there but in the arena, it was everything. He knew Tighnari couldn’t convey a solid strategy through sponsor messages but these words were telling him so much more. They assured him Kaveh was still safe, still close by, as well as Dehya and Candace. He tucked the paper into his new jacket but kept his hand curled around it, holding onto it while something else spread in his chest apart from the warmth - hope.

Alhaitham opened the protein bar and took a single bite from it before putting it away, then uncapped the empty bottle and filled the cap with the water still surrounding his unfortunate hiding spot. He smelled it but couldn’t discern anything out of the ordinary and dared to take a sip.

Freshwater. He definitely should boil it before drinking but he neither had the means nor the patience. Alhaitham filled his bottle and took a few careful sips, deciding to wait for thirty minutes to see how his body reacted.

The heated jacket was about to lull him to sleep when suddenly the night sky of the arena came ablaze with light. Trumpets started to play, startling him so hard he almost dropped his bottle, and then the Tsaritsa’s Hymn thundered through the arena.

In the sky, the portrait of the teenage boy from District 6 appeared, followed by his fellow team member right after. Then, District 9 with their 18-year-old. And lastly, District 11, a freckled, scared-looking twelve-year-old boy.

Alhaitham looked away and used the brief brightness to scout his surroundings. There was a flicker of light about fifty meters away from him, on a mountaintop much higher than his. He hoped it was Dehya or Candace making a comforting fire.

The hymn ebbed and left them in deafening silence and desolate darkness.

Alhaitham snuggled deeper into the jacket. When he closed his eyes, that darkness was replaced by Kaveh’s glowing presence, his flushed face, sparkling eyes and pink cheeks; it was so easy to conjure his warmth, burning slow and sensual over Alhaitham’s spine. What a fool he had been to think one day would ever be enough.

“I’ll come for you, nafasam,”Alhaitham whispered against the heated fabric before he drifted into a restless sleep.

He woke with a start, legs kicking out in reflex, hands grasping for a weapon that wasn’t there. Dawn coated the arena in a gray hue, mist hovering over the water and shrouding the mountain straight across from him. Alhaitham’s muscles ached, his shoulders as hard as the stone he had slept against. He co*cked his head and listened, unsure if he had woken from a sound or a muddled dream.

When he was met with quiet, he took quick inventory. The swelling around his ankle was almost gone and the dagger wound was completely healed. Alhaitham made an impressed sound, rubbing over the spot before he rose to his feet and dared to shift his weight onto the injured foot. The stinging pain from yesterday was gone.

He lifted his arms for a stretch and that was when he saw it. A tiny pebble fell from the cliff in his back, landing on the ledge and then plummeting into the calm, dark waters.

Alhaitham whipped around, grabbing his water bottle in lack of a weapon, and caught sight of a bloodied teenager perched on top of his mountain. He must have come from the other side of the cliff, his brown hair sticking wet to his head, yet there was a crust of blood on his forehead. He held onto a machete, arm slightly bent, eyes darting from Alhaitham’s face to his scattered supplies.

He tried to match the face to a name but he couldn’t remember. Alhaitham assumed he was the 18-year-old from District 2, the one Tighnari had deemed a low threat in comparison to his District mate Albedo. Still, no fighting experience didn’t mean a lot if the opponent was carrying a machete and Alhaitham only had a water bottle and no space to defend himself.

“Don’t,” Alhaitham wrenched out and loathed how unsettled he sounded.

The boy hesitated, the machete trembling in his grip.

“Don’t, please,” Alhaitham repeated, this time more calmly. “Don’t make me kill you. Leave.”

He took a step to the side, the water another enemy in his back. His movement triggered something in the other tribute because the boy threw himself off the ledge and barrelled into Alhaitham with a shaky scream.

The machete missed his face within a hair’s breadth and Alhaitham smacked the water bottle against District 2’s temple with full force before dropping it and using his knuckles instead. The tribute’s head was knocked back, causing the second swing of his machete to miss. Alhaitham managed to grab the wrist wielding the weapon.

The other might be a teenager still but he was well-built with square shoulders and bulky arms, and high on adrenaline. For a moment, they both pushed against each other, the machete dangling over Alhaitham’s neck like a guillotine before he used the side of his other hand to punch District 2’s throat.

He dropped with a rattling gasp and Alhaitham threw them around, pushing District 2 against the stone. He dug his nails into the boy’s wrist until he drew blood and tried to twist it so he would let go of the weapon. But the other pushed against it with gritted teeth and manic eyes.

Alhaitham thought he might be yelling when the tribute kicked him between the ribs but everything was a blur and then they were a flurry of hands and legs, hitting whatever they could reach.

Alhaitham’s finger slipped off the boy’s wrist and the machete cut through the outside of his padded jacket. He kicked up his knee when the tribute descended onto him again and hit him in the stomach. District 2 toppled over with a startled wheeze and Alhaitham wrenched the machete from his grip.

“Stop!” he shouted, holding the weapon behind his back, out of reach.

But the other was past the point of listening and threw himself against Alhaitham with his full weight. Alhaitham lost grip on the slippery ledge and crashed onto his back, the back of his head dipping into the cold water. He didn’t get a chance to inhale before a hand wrapped around his throat and pushed him under.

His scream turned into a cascade of bubbles, veiling the teenager’s frantic gaze from his view. The water was cold. So cold. Encasing his skull like a hastily put-together coffin, dragging him down by the only source of warmth left: two desperate hands around his neck.

Alhaitham brought the machete down and rammed the blade into District 2’s back. He tore it out when he felt the fingers around his throat struggle and sent it down again, again, again until his lips were able to gulp at clear, crisp morning air.

The cannon sounded.

Alhaitham pushed the boy off and scrambled away from the edge. He tossed the machete into the corner with the sponsor package and fought himself to his feet, facing the cliff. He put his hands against the rough stone, one clean, the other dripping blood that wasn’t his. His body kept on breathing, mechanically lapping up the red, metallic air of the Hunger Games that tasted like he was still drowning.

Timaeus. That was his name. Alhaitham escaped a choked sob as the name came to him under it all.

He glanced over his shoulder. The boy was sprawled out on the ledge, glassy, unseeing eyes aimed at the sky. His mouth was open, covered in blood and spit. Alhaitham slowly turned toward him, back sliding down the rock. He put his foot against his side and pushed.

“Why didn’t you stop?”

The corpse landed in the eerie, quiet waters. The arena swallowed him like it had so many others before, waves curiously licking across the ledge for the last trace of blood. Alhaitham put his head into his hands, the dread of what he had done slowly poisoning away any other thought.

Where was that red-tinted rage making him feel invincible? That sinister power that had made him want to attack Dottore and lodge a blade into his throat? Where was the satisfaction over how easy it was to kill? Where was the water in the arena able to wash off the blood of a frightened kid?

Alhaitham crawled to the ledge on all fours and threw up.

Chapter 14: on the hunt

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - ON THE HUNT

"She doesn’t miss, Haitham.” - Candace

When the ground had opened and the water had rushed in, they had abandoned the chests in fear of being swept away by the sudden tide and helped each other on top of the Cornucopia. However, whatever cruel game the Harbingers were playing, it didn’t seem aimed at them for the area around the Cornucopia with its most valuable chests and supplies remained unaffected. There was a chasm filled with water in a ring around them, the next solid land to retreat to behind their starting points in the arena. The former cliffs had risen higher but the mountains had turned into small islands scattered in the darkness.

As the temperatures had dropped, District 1 had gotten a generous sponsor package in the form of three blankets to keep them all warm, gratitude of the Fatui and District 1’s mentor Jean. It was weird to not see them fighting over supplies but distributing them although the blankets must have been for Kaeya and Mika.

Now though, the girls were sharing one of them, Sara and Yelan keeping the fourteen-year-old tribute Changchang from District 4 warm between their midst, Tomo and Kaeya using the other, whereas Mika had lost his initial distrust for Kaveh and offered to share a blanket with him.

“I didn’t expect them to use water so soon in the arena. Two years ago it was quite the disaster,” Yelan said into the silence.

“Maybe they did background checks this time, checking which tributes can swim,” Tomo mused, leaning onto Kaeya with a yawn, who was nibbling on some jerky and oversaw their dark surroundings. Kaveh spotted a flicker of firelight in the distance and hoped it was Alhaitham. Like most people of District 12, his swimming technique was poorly. They didn’t have any big bodies of water to learn it, only a lake deep in the surrounding jungle where no one but the forest rangers ever went. The few times Tighnari had taken them there, Kaveh had preferred to draw the flora around them and Alhaitham had refused to leave their picnic blanket and his books.

“Do you think it’s permanent?” he asked softly. Even if Alhaitham was out there somewhere, he had become unreachable. His hand flew to the blue feather in his hair, tracing its outline.

“Until they get bored of it,” Tomo shrugged. “Are you worried about your lover?”

“No,” Kaveh hurried to say and averted his gaze, clinging onto his mace rather than the feather. “He’s a good swimmer. He’ll be alright.”

Unless Alhaitham hadn’t hidden secret swim sessions next to his sword training from him, that was a blatant lie. But Kaveh would rather bite off his tongue than point out Alhaitham’s weakness for them to abuse. Luckily, no one seemed suspicious. Mika leaned onto him, the warmth of the teenager flooding his side and Kaveh didn’t know if to recoil or endure it. It was weird, how fragile they all were in the quiet moments. They held onto this bond woven in tragedy because of the lack of a better alternative but they did it so…so unconditionally.

He tried not to think about how Mika had killed the 12-year-old tribute earlier and clumsily put an arm around his slender shoulders, exchanging body heat while the temperatures became more and more unforgiving.

“So, Kaveh,” Kaeya purred and Kaveh’s jaw tightened. “Now that you spilled the tea on the Gamemaker parties during your interview, do you think we are safe to talk about them here?”

“Uhm, I don’t know…? Aren’t they more like an open secret?”

“You could say so,” Yelan scoffed.

“You’re just pissed you didn’t get an invite,” Kaeya teased her.

“I did get an invitation,” she lifted her chin and her eyes narrowed to a deadly glare but while Kaveh squirmed nervously, Kaeya was unimpressed as usual. “I decided to leave early. I’m here to win, not to party.”

“Oh, so you didn’t get a tour?” his tone was still teasing but Kaeya’s voice was also laced with something else. Curiosity or concern, Kaveh couldn’t quite put a finger on it. But he noticed the change in their group immediately, saw how they all tensed under the blankets apart from the innocent Changchang and the clueless Mika.

“No. I didn’t.”

“Mhm,” Kaeya hummed. “What about you, Kaveh? Did you get a tour?”

Once more, he was put on the spot. He had expected it, of course, being an outsider to the Treasure Hoarders. He felt Yelan’s calculating stare on him but also saw how Sara pressed her lips shut and played with the cap of her water bottle. They all were here to win the games, no matter what. But this question posed as much of a threat as an open hand reaching out. Because even the Treasure Hoarders didn’t want to be associated with the Fatui, not yet, not while the games were still running, not when they had the illusion of free will in this cage of death.

“Yes. Dottore showed me around,” Kaveh measured his response, knowing full well Dottore was watching him. “But before we could finish the tour, Haitham showed up. We thought leaving early to focus on our training would be a wise choice.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Did you—” he stopped himself because he saw the answer in Kaeya’s face, in his non-committal smile that was so awfully similar to Tighnari’s whenever the topic of the Fatui came up. Kaeya lifted his chest and then playfully slung an arm around Tomo, who had been surprisingly quiet during their exchange.

“Yeah, yeah. Was up all night, the Fatui showed me around Dottore’s estate. It’s so huge, you can get lost in it. And the wine was exquisite. I might have messed with Jean’s training schedule a bit by my long absence but hey, networking is everything, mh?”

Kaveh forced a smile in response, biting down hard until his molars made a sound but no one noticed. Kaeya winked at him, his mesmerizing eye twinkling in the sparse light of the arena before he slung the blanket firmer around himself and Tomo.

“I cancelled my tour,” Sara suddenly blurted out. “Yae was furious with me. And for good reason, I should have—the Fatui—wanted to show me their world and I—panicked, I—”

“Shut up,” Yelan hissed but there was no hostility in her voice, more so the edge of dread. Sara immediately snapped her mouth shut and sank into herself. There was a ribbon of tears in her eyes as she frantically stared down her water bottle, trying not to blink.

“It’s fine,” Tomo said softly. “The Fatui still love you. You managed to land the first kill!”

“Yeah, they will be so impressed. It was a great shot,” Mika nodded, the little tuft of blond on top of his head bouncing with the motion. “Don’t worry, Sara.”

“Yeah,” Sara wiped over her burning eyes and steeled her posture. “Yes. Of course. I will make them proud.”

Kaveh wanted to jolt to his feet and shake some sense into them all. He wanted to reassure Sara that feeling sick about it was natural, that their twisted power play was one of the most vile things he had ever witnessed but he had just claimed on national TV that he couldn’t wait to be invited to such a party again and he knew better than to start a revolt inside the arena. So he kept quiet until their conversation tapered off into soft breathing and lay down beside Mika. The younger one snuggled into his side and Kaveh tried not to think about Collei as he pulled an arm around him for warmth.

It felt like he had merely been asleep for three hours when the cannon sounded. Mika and he startled so hard, their heads bumped together. Kaveh cringed and peeled himself out of the confining blanket.

“Sorry, Kaveh,” Mika mumbled, rubbing his head. “Was that a cannon?”

“Yes,” Yelan answered. Bow and one of her scavenged arrows in her hands, she stood at the edge of the Cornucopia and looked over the murky waters. Morning mist clouded their view but the hovercraft appearing in the arena was still visible. It flew low and the net that was cast hoisted a body out of the waters before it drifted off with a soft hum.

“Alright, I’m tired of playing sitting ducks,” Kaeya decided, stretching himself with an exaggerated yawn before he started to climb down the Cornucopia, Changchang on his heels. The girl still looked sick around the nose and hadn’t spoken a single word. She was so different from Mika, who had been groomed all his life to see the games as opportunity rather than torture, it gave Kaveh whiplash.

“Let’s put together some equipment and go hunt,” Tomo agreed, earning an eager nod from Mika.

Kaveh’s fingers traced over the feather in his hair once more. Alhaitham must be out there; he refused to think the cannon shot had anything to do with him. He had promised Kaveh to come back to him. He wouldn’t give up before that. Still, he couldn’t deny the chill that swept down his neck when he looked over the rim and saw the dark waters surrounding them. Like an endless maw, black as Dottore’s leather gloves, and just as desperate to wrap around his throat. He took a nervous step back.

Just as the others had descended the Cornucopia - apart from Yelan, who was still glaring at their surroundings in deep thought - the arena awoke with a rumble from deep within. At once, Kaveh lowered himself onto the metal, expecting another earthquake.

“The water!” Mika yelled, pointing at the bubbling surface. Waves were cresting and caused the group to retreat into the Cornucopia but before they could wash over the shore, the water was receding and then the area started to shake. Kaveh held onto the Cornucopia with a startled gasp.

The water drained out of the makeshift chasm and said chasm closed, mountains shrinking into gentle slopes while the earth parted enough for roots to gnaw through. Brown roots evolved into thick tree trunks and then they were surrounded by greenery as a jungle similar to how it was found in District 12 grew around them. Lush vegetation filled the former yellow stone plateau and shielded them from view. Vines hung from giant trees, moss crawled over big trunks and flowers bloomed into precious fruits when the eerie quiet of the arena was suddenly filled with beautiful birdsong.

“What the f*ck?!” Tomo called from further down, his voice breaking on a laugh.

“It’s a cycle,” Sara said as she climbed back to Yelan and Kaveh on top of the Cornucopia. “The water came before sunset, now it’s morning and we got another biome change.”

“What’s the interval? 8 hours?”

“6 to 8 I’d say. Hard to tell,” Kaeya was the first to pull away from the shelter of the Cornucopia and walk into the jungle. He used his sword to softly poke against one of the trees but it didn’t respond. It was, in fact, a real tree. Kaveh stared at the scenery in awe. The birdsong reminded him of home and as the wind changed direction, the scent of it did too. His chest clenched and he quickly climbed down the construct to follow Kaeya, his mace in hand.

“We should keep that timeframe in mind when we head out. The Cornucopia seems safe from it,” Sara suggested while inspecting a blue fungus on the nearest tree trunk. She scrunched her brows and hesitated to touch it.

“Rukkhashava Mushrooms,” Kaveh offered his advice. He had seen them in District 12 before but Tighnari always told him to leave them alone. Not because they were poisonous but because the people of District 12, formerly the people of Sumeru, thought them to be holy, a forgotten relict of their Archon Rukkhadevata. But he knew better than to take her name into his mouth while at the mercy of the Tsaritsa. “Not poisonous. But also not really edible due to their texture.”

“Useless then,” Sara sighed in mild annoyance.

“Yeah,” Kaveh muttered, staring at the blue layers of the fungus. A lump formed in his throat at the sight. Was this a sick play of the Harbingers to remind him of home, of what he had lost? To stir up his emotions and make him weak? He turned away from the mushrooms and approached Kaeya and Mika instead. “How about we go hunt? I could join you two.”

The teenager was quick to agree but then looked at Kaeya for permission, who observed Kaveh’s face intently before breaking into his usual sly smile. “Sure. We’re going west!”

“Wait!” Yelan hissed and jumped off the Cornucopia. She landed silently, as graceful as a jungle cat. Her fingers trailed over one of the Rukkhashava Mushrooms and Kaveh learned from a glimpse at her face that Yelan knew what the fungi stood for. “I think they’re cycling through the elements.”

“What do you mean?” Tomo asked.

“We started with Geo. Then Hydro. Now Dendro," Yelan said, her voice shaking slightly as if she hadn’t expected her own courage. The elements of Teyvat were not forbidden because they were what their world was made of. But the former Archons wielding them were. Either overthrown and imprisoned or killed by the Tsaritsa, who was as much the Archon of Love as she was the Archon of Cryo, the power of the elements had turned into forbidden knowledge. Legends of Vision Bearers, chosen by their Archons, harnessing elemental power, were told by their elders in secret, out of earshot from Fatui guards. Nowadays, Kaveh didn't even remember all of their names by heart - it had been too long since Archons had reigned over Teyvat. But the elements persisted. And in some way, it made sense for the Tsaritsa to use them to torture them with them.

“That means in a few hours, this area might turn into something more dangerous. So don’t lose track of time,” Yelan continued her observation while the others were still processing.

“Fingers crossed the next cycle isn’t Pyro,” Tomo joked, earning a nervous laugh from Changchang and Mika. “Alright then, let’s get moving! Sara, it’s time for some District 7 action!”

“Please no,” Sara rolled her eyes but followed Tomo regardless.

“Let’s go!” Mika exclaimed and softly tugged on Kaveh’s sleeve. Without a look back to Yelan, Kaveh followed the District 1 tributes, eyes scanning the area between the trees, hoping for Alhaitham’s silver hair to shimmer through the green.

Dissociation was a wicked beast but Alhaitham was lured in by its claws without a chance of escaping; he found it hard coming to a place where he had decided to engrave his fate into the yellow stone. Because the stones were gone when he came to and the water had dried up, leaving him to sit in a lush jungle, nausea threatening at his throat.

The metallic taste of blood had been devoured by sweet, honeyed scents of flower and fruit, the deafening silence replaced by melodious birdsong. He blinked, lashes flicking like curtains drawn apart to reveal the new scenery to a mind still stuck in a bloodied haze.

The body of District 2 was gone but his blood still clung to Alhaitham’s hand.

He opened his water bottle and spilled the contents over his hand, not thinking about the dryness on his tongue. He rubbed his hand against the freshly sprouted grass and sobbed in relief when the blood finally faded into the earth.

His hideout was no longer a rugged cliff but a gentle slope covered in greenery. His heart skipped a beat when he spotted a Mourning Flower emerging from the spot where he had pushed District 2 off the ledge. The drooping petals carried sprinkles of morning dew. Alhaitham clamped his eyes shut and muffled a scream against the back of his hand.

“Calm down,” he commanded himself once his lips could be trusted to form words again. He straightened his posture and then mechanically started to collect his supplies. He grabbed the machete and cleaned it on the wet grass before attaching it to his belt. He tried not to think, which felt horribly wrong. His mind was desperate to latch onto logic but whenever he allowed his thoughts to stream freely, they rushed into dark, bloodied waters. So he focused on simple tasks, filled his stomach, drank the last sips of water, tied his jacket around his waist because the temperatures in the jungle were rising rapidly and tried to navigate the fastest way to the Cornucopia.

At least the machete came in handy when slashing through vines and shrubbery.

The jungle was peaceful. He knew it was an artificial sense of security lulling him in as he stepped through the undergrowth but it was such a longing tease of home Alhaitham couldn’t help but breathe in the atmosphere greedily. Tighnari and Collei were the ones hiking through District 12’s jungle. Alhaitham preferred to appreciate it from the sidelines, tucked against a tree with a good book, Kaveh from behind his sketchpad. Together they marvelled at the birds and watched them come alive on Kaveh’s paper.

The emotion sawed through him as if it was tearing off a part of him. Kaveh’s golden hair in the sun, his eyes narrowed at the green canopy, colorful petals on his coat, blue paint on his fingertips—anything but red. Alhaitham picked up his pace, chopping at the vines crossing his path with starved determination.

A flash of color ignited in between the greenery. A blur of brown and blue and then, the threat of red. Alhaitham threw himself behind the nearest tree trunk when he heard multiple people crashing through the underbrush.

“To the left, Changchang! Cut them off!” Yelan. Alhaitham’s stomach plummeted.

“Dehya!” Candace. Out of breath, panicked.

He pushed himself out of his hiding spot and sprinted toward the noise.

Alhaitham almost immediately collided with a much smaller figure, who stood no chance against his strength and was thrown to the ground by the impact. He saw a glimpse of a frightened face, no doubt Changchang, Yelan’s district mate, but when she wouldn’t move, he rushed past her, following Candace’s voice.

He found her in the middle of a small clearing, an arrow lodged into her right shoulder. She was carrying a heavy backpack in her arms as if she hadn’t had the time to put it on properly and her ponytail had come loose. When Alhaitham crashed through the trees, she shrieked and clumsily picked up her wooden shield.

“Candace!” Alhaitham barked. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Archons, it’s you—I was so—” she slumped forward into the dirt and put a hand on the arrow shaft protruding from her shoulder, though after a warning look from Alhaitham, she didn’t pull it out. There was a film of sweat on her bronze skin and bubbles of spit on her lip. “Yelan. We ran into her. Dehya lured her away from me after she hit me. I don’t know where—”

“Shh," Alhaitham cut her off, lifting his machete and pivoting on his heels to scout their surroundings. “I heard her earlier, she has to be—”

He stopped himself and listened. Under Candace’s laboured breathing, he heard the faint rustle of leaves. Not from above them but—

He yanked the shield from Candace’s hand and covered her backside with it. An arrow landed straight in the middle. Alhaitham jumped over Candace’s crouched body and lifted the shield.

“Get between the trees,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears. “Don’t move. Don’t pull out the arrow. Wait for Dehya and me.”

“She doesn’t miss, Haitham,” Candace weakly protested but slowly crawled over the forest ground. Alhaitham followed her steps, functioning as a barrier while he stared down the direction where the arrow had come from. There must be a reason why another one wasn’t following. He didn’t know if to fear or hope the reason was Dehya.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I know.”

The Cornucopia couldn’t be far. Kaveh couldn’t be far. Alhaitham took a step forward and squinted in between the trees. A scream tore through the leaves, deep and guttural, out for blood. Dehya. Alhaitham leapt into a run, almost tripping over a root, when he spotted the women past some vines blocking his way. Instead of chopping at them, he crawled underneath.

Dehya was carrying the baseball bat Alhaitham had seen on her before. It was quite heavy, more a club than a bat and made of solid metal. She had wrapped both hands around it and adopted a defensive stance, swaying on the balls of her feet to shift her weight to the movements Yelan mirrored.

District 4’s tribute was still wielding a bow but her quiver was empty. It didn’t matter much because even from this angle, he spotted five daggers on her belt. Yelan kept her distance, moving with much more grace than Dehya, as if familiar with the jungle. Her eyes were locked onto Dehya, keeping just out of melee range. Alhaitham’s heart was about to jump into his throat.

This was his chance to eliminate her. She was distracted and outnumbered.

Alhaitham kept close to the ground as he snuck through the undergrowth and raised the machete. He would get one strike. Maybe two. No, the first had to be lethal. He flung back his wrist.

Dehya’s eyes flicked toward him in surprise.

Yelan didn’t need anything else. She dodged him even before Alhaitham’s machete came down and threw a dagger, aiming between his eyes. Alhaitham raised Candace’s shield at the last second and lost balance when the wood splintered upon impact. Yelan swiftly reached for another dagger.

“Oh, f*ck no!” Dehya shouted and charged at her, club lashing out like a rabid dog.

Yelan dodged her incoming swipe with feline reflexes, quick and swift she brought herself out of close range and swung herself over a cluster of vines, rolling over the ground to cushion her fall. Dehya cursed but hesitated to storm after her. Instead, she pulled Alhaitham back upright.

“Candace?”

“Hidden,” Alhaitham looked her over but when he didn’t see anything but scrapes on her arms and leaves in Dehya’s wild hair, he followed Yelan’s trail. “Come on, quickly.”

“She’s gone, Haitham. She saw she was outnumbered and hightailed out of here,” there was a hint of pride in Dehya’s voice but it vanished into a confused gasp when she saw the darkness in Alhaitham’s eyes.

“That’s exactly why we need to hunt her down,” he insisted. They wouldn’t get another chance like this, he was sure of it. The perspective shifted from prey to hunter; where he had pleaded to a frenzied teenager mere hours ago, urging him to reason, now he grasped firmer around the machete and set after Yelan. Dehya followed him but she was loud, not used to the confining, almost claustrophobic nature of the jungle after growing up in the desert of District 10.

“Candace is over there,” he gestured in the vague direction. “Go check on her, she needs medical attention, here—” he plucked the salve Tighnari had sent him from his pocket and handed it to her. “It’ll help. Changchang is out there too but she seemed scared, not a threat. Call out if you spot Yelan.”

He didn’t wait for an answer but fought himself into the depths of the jungle. He was no tracker, that was Tighnari’s forte. And something told him that Yelan knew how to not leave a trace. But he also knew she wanted him dead just as much so she was probably already watching him, waiting for her time to strike. He had lost the arrow she had shot at them but the dagger was still lodged in the shield. He knew better than to lower it to get it out, though.

A dagger flew past his left ear and Alhaitham ducked out of the way with a curse. Instead of hiding, he whipped around and ran in the direction it had come from. Close combat was the only chance he had to win against Yelan and they both knew it. She appeared right in front of him, slipping under him like a rabbit and he dropped the shield in a fruitless attempt of catching her ankle.

Yelan grabbed onto a low-hanging branch and used the momentum to swing over a fallen tree trunk, whereas Alhaitham jumped over it. His fingers looped around her empty quiver, yanking her slender body back. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and threw her onto the ground back first. He raised his machete.

“If you kill me, they’ll know. And they’ll kill your little lover,” Yelan hissed out, chest heaving with rapid breaths. She found herself under the shaking tip of Alhaitham’s machete but her sharp gaze barrelled into his eyes. Her mouth twitched into a bleak smirk.

“You are lying,” the fingers around the machete became deathly white in his grip.

“Do you wanna take that risk?” she co*cked her head to the side in silent triumph. Alhaitham brought his knee down onto her sternum and her mouth opened in a pained gasp. “Changchang is useless in combat but she’s excellent in hiding. She’s watching right now. Kill me, and she’ll report back. Kaeya will slice up your pretty boy and then they’ll hunt you down.”

Alhaitham hesitated. He had to. If there was a slight chance of Kaveh coming to harm then he couldn’t do it, if Changchang was hiding between the greenery - he made the mistake of checking by looking up. Yelan punched against his throat and wrapped her legs around his middle, digging her knee between his ribs until he sputtered onto the forest floor.

She was back on her feet, plucking another dagger from her belt when the metallic club smashed into her side and flung her off her feet. The dagger slipped from her grip as she fought to keep upright. Dehya was back, a scream lodged in her throat as she brought the club down a second time, now aiming for Yelan’s face.

“No, don’t!” Alhaitham yelled and threw himself onto Dehya’s arm. They lost balance, crashing to the ground. He heard Yelan laughing through clipped breaths as Dehya and Alhaitham briefly fought against each other until the club dropped.

“What the f*ck are you doing?! Let go! She attacked Candace, she deserves it—” Dehya pushed him off, a red haze in her pupils as she reached for her weapon again. Alhaitham put his foot on top of the club, leaning down.

“They’ll kill Kaveh if you harm her,” he growled and this time, he believed it. A score of 12 wasn’t enough to keep an outsider around, not if he proved to be a real threat through Alhaitham hunting the Treasure Hoarders down instead of saving him. No, he wouldn’t risk it. Dehya saw the force behind his resolve, hardened eyes and hardened shoulders and stopped fighting back.

“Fine,” she groaned before taking in their surroundings. Yelan was gone.

A cannon sounded.

“No,” Dehya panted. “No, no, no—!”

Together, they sprinted through the jungle, frantically listening for their enemy as much as for Candace, a sign that she was alive, that the cannon had announced someone else’s death. When they reached Candace’s hideout, she was still crouching on the ground, a trickle of blood running down her shoulder, backpack pressed against her chest. Tears in her eyes, sweat on her forehead, but alive.

Changchang stood over her with a serrated knife, hesitating.

“Get away from her—!” Dehya jumped forward and brought her club down on Changchang’s skull. Candace shrieked in horror as the girl dropped with a dull thud and then again, when a dagger flew through the trees. Alhaitham ran up to her and lifted Candace off the ground, throwing her over his shoulder.

“Go, go, go!” he barked at Dehya behind them and blindly dashed through the jungle. Candace held onto him with a pained gasp, dropping the backpack but Dehya was close behind them, picking it up. There was no cannon accompanying their hasty escape, meaning Changchang must still be alive but neither of them stopped long enough to look back.

Alhaitham ignored how each breath turned into glass shards rattling in his lungs, ignored his muscles cramping and brought them further away, hoping they wouldn’t run into anyone else.

“Please, it hurts,” Candace whimpered after a while, weakly grasping at the back of Alhaitham’s shirt. “My shoulder—”

“It’s okay, we’re here, you’ll be alright, Haitham gave me medicine for you, love,” Dehya shushed her softly and that was when Alhaitham’s knees gave in and he sank onto the forest floor. Dehya helped Candace down and gently rolled her onto her back before scanning the environment.

The jungle was still stretching all around them. Alhaitham couldn’t see the position of the sun. Their escape had made him lose any sense of direction as there was nothing but a sea of green around them, unsure if the Cornucopia was now further away or closer than before.

“You’ll be okay,” Dehya whispered next to him. “Haitham, can you help me, my hands are shaking, I—”

His mind clouded by a numb haze, he nodded and bent over Candace to patch her up.

Chapter 15: calculated

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - CALCULATED

"It’s human to fight for your own survival. It’s what our deepest instincts urge us to do.” - Tighnari

It was as if they had been holding their breath ever since they had woken up in the Mentor Control Room. When Dehya and Alhaitham managed to get rid of the arrow in Candace’s shoulder and patched her up with the green salve and a bandage from Candace’s backpack, Cyno’s shoulders slumped in relief. Tighnari barely felt his fingers anymore, so hard they were squeezing each other’s hands. They were no longer huddled up on the sofas in the back but right at the front of the room, leaning onto the railing that cut them off from the screens.

Xiao, Yelan and Changchang’s mentor, was merely two meters away from them. Like Cyno and Tighnari, he had watched the brief but nerve-wracking fight in tense silence. When Dehya’s club connected with Changchang’s skull, he had made a soft, agonized sound but when he sensed Tighnari staring, he fixed his expression into the familiar cold mask.

Whereas Alhaitham, Candace and Dehya had fled away from the Cornucopia, hiding in the comforting depths of the jungle, Yelan stood over Changchang’s body drawing one rattled, desperate breath after the other. Tighnari could barely stomach the sight; Changchang’s nose was shattered, her face a mess of gore but somehow, she was still grasping onto life.

He expected Yelan to kill her to put her out of her misery but the tribute kneeled beside her instead, palms pressed together in front of her face as if in prayer before she wiped some gore out of Changchang’s dark hair. Then she put away her weapons and lifted the teenager off the ground, slinging her arm around her shoulders before slowly making her way back to the Cornucopia.

Xiao pushed himself off the railing and left the Mentor Control Room.

“She will be alright,” Tighnari said softly to Cyno, whose eyes were still glued to the screen of Candace. She was propped up against a tree and drinking water. They had cut off the sleeve of her shirt enough to tend to her wound. It was bandaged nicely, Tighnari thought. Dehya cleaned her club on nearby shrubbery, whereas Alhaitham sat beside Candace with a blank look on his face.

Tighnari’s heart ached for him. They had woken to District 2’s teenager attacking Alhaitham and the fight had sent Tighnari’s heart into overdrive with how close it had been. Seeing Alhaitham shattering the moment he had brought down his machete—Tighnari had pleaded with his friend not to lose himself, but he knew now, that losing himself might be Alhaitham’s only option to deal with the terrors of the arena.

His eyes drifted to Kaveh, who was scouting the other side of the jungle with Mika and Kaeya. They must be about three kilometres away from each other, Kaveh and Alhaitham. But in a dense jungle, this was several hours. A short walk could turn into a slog in there.

“Oi, Cyno,” he spoke up again when Cyno wouldn’t react. “Let’s go to our suite. They are alright for now.”

Since the games had started 24 hours ago, they hadn’t eaten or showered and Tighnari was starting to feel gross. Cyno slowly managed to tear himself away from the screen and they rode the elevator in silence. They both approached Tighnari’s suite in quiet understanding. Neither of them wanted to be alone right now.

Once they entered the suite, their assigned servants followed and started to prepare breakfast in the adjacent kitchen. The games were already on in the living room. There was a screen in every corner of the apartment, so it was impossible to miss anything but the Mentor Control Room offered far more camera angles. Still, it was enough to convince Cyno to take a shower. Tighnari left him to it and used the shower in Kaveh’s old room instead.

The hot water streaming down his shoulder blades wasn’t enough to ease the tension in his joints. His eyes kept wandering to the screen across from him, where another dead tribute was lifted out of the arena. She belonged to the cannon shot that had scared Dehya and Alhaitham.

Layla, District 11. Meaning District 6 and 11 were already out.

Tighnari shook himself like a dog when he stepped out of the shower. His tail was always a pain to dry but if he didn’t wash it properly, it became matt and filthy. So his fur was still slightly damp when he entered the living room again, dressed in a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants. Cyno was perched on the sofa in front of a luxurious breakfast the servants had prepared, though he didn’t touch it.

His hair was also wet, curling against his cheeks, a towel draped over his naked shoulders. Tighnari blushed and pointedly looked away. Cyno seemed most comfortable shirtless, dressed in nothing but one of Tighnari’s sweatpants. Whereas he draped himself in as many layers as possible to distract himself from the changes the Fatui had made to his body, Cyno found the fabric confining and wasn’t ashamed of his body.

Not that there was anything to be ashamed of, Tighnari thought. The endless planes and edges of Cyno’s defined body must be the pinnacle of human physique. He understood why the Fatui were afraid of him, seeing him like this. Cyno looked like he was built to kill. Something they cheered for in the arena but out here? That wasn’t what they wanted.

“Feel better?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes,” Cyno nodded and finally looked away from the screen. Although they had barely slept, his eyes were clear and blazing as always. “I’m glad they are together. Now they only have to get Kaveh.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be rough,” Tighnari was convinced Alhaitham was already plotting. They would probably try to sneak Kaveh out of the Treasure Hoarder’s fangs during the night, provided they managed to find the Cornucopia by then. But walking straight into the lion’s den was risky, even in the veil of night. “But they’ll be smart about it, I’m sure.”

Cyno hummed in agreement and then bent forward to grab a plate off the coffee table. It was covered in gold-brown tulumba with a small pot of syrup. He grabbed one tulumba off the plate and brought his hand up to Tighnari’s face: “You should eat something, Nari.”

Cheeks covered in a rosy bloom, Tighnari listened and took a careful bite, though his gaze wandered. The moment Cyno had leaned forward, he had exposed his naked back to him. Tighnari had seen the dark lines on there before, during his training session, but he had never allowed himself to stare like this. Scars covered the expanse of a muscular back, faint but given with cruel precision.

“They are from the whippings,” Tighnari flinched at Cyno’s calm tone. The other put down the plate without taking a tulumba himself and brushed his hair to the front to show off his back. His shoulder blades danced with the movement, like ripples on a lake luring Tighnari further in. “They tried fixing them after my win but they couldn’t remove them completely. They used to be much worse.”

“Can I…?” Tighnari’s fingertips hovered over Cyno’s back, patiently waiting for permission and the other nodded, tipping his head down. He ran his fingers over his naked back, drawing from scar to scar, creating new paths in between the past engraved in Cyno’s skin. Tighnari followed the knobs of his spine up to his nape. Goosebumps skittered from his touch as he stroked all the way to Cyno’s lower back. “Your district’s Fatui patrol did this?”

“If you asked them, they would say I did it myself,” Cyno arched his back, smoothing the tender skin into Tighnari’s palm and the other had the urge to curl around him, to shield the vulnerable side of him with his embrace. Instead, he continued to stroke up and down his spine, petting him so carefully his fingers might have been feathers.

“Before I got reaped for the Hunger Games, I was put on patrol. See, District 10 is too big for the Fatui to control themselves, so they delegate a lot of the work to us. We would be responsible for keeping watch on the ranches and mines and inside the settlements. We were obligated to report any dubious activity.”

“That’s just vile. Forcing you to betray your own people.”

“Yes,” Cyno’s head tipped down further when Tighnari’s hand petted up to his nape again, fingertips threading through his damp hair. “Of course, we thought ourselves smarter than them. But after a few weeks of no reporting and food still going missing, the Fatui became enraged and decided that if we wanted to protect criminals, it meant we were accomplices and disrespecting the Tsaritsa. So the next time something got stolen, they had the guard on duty punished for it. They cut off his hand in the marketplace and left him bleeding out. Candace managed to patch him back up but then everything changed.”

Cyno’s speech was slow and clear, not shying away from the atrocities he and his people had endured. Tighnari soaked up every syllable and scooted closer, so Cyno could lean his back against his shoulder.

“People turned on each other. The fear of punishment was fighting against the urge to revolt. It was like they had found a way to tear our district limb from limb. We were no longer united but scattered in the sands, much easier for the Fatui to control. There’s no chance for a revolution to spark if everyone is paranoid of each other.”

The Fatui also had patrols in District 12 but their district had always been more sheltered than the others; on the outskirts of civilization in the heart of a jungle, life was comparably kind and peaceful. The Tsaritsa still drained their resources but there had never been a public execution or punishment on their town square. The black market existed but most of the Fatui turned a blind eye, profiting from it just as the locals did.

“A lot of the kids steal because they ration our water so ruthlessly during the summer months. You see a kid with a bucket running toward the well you are supposed to guard - you don’t turn them away. That’s where I got most of those scars. The Fatui kept me pinned to the well in the aftermath, to make an example of me. Candace would come at night to tend to my wounds.”

“I had no clue—”

“They can’t touch me anymore because I’m a victor. So when I returned home last year, I took over my post at the well again. My old mentor urged me not to, that winners of the games don’t need to work anymore, but it gave me the chance to provide the children with water.”

“That was pretty smart of you, at least this way you can help them after all.”

“No, Tighnari, it was not,” Cyno curled into himself, burying his head in his hands. His shoulders heaved with a deep, agonized sound before he looked up again, staring at the screen. For the first time since they had met, there was something sombre in Cyno’s gaze. Tears refused to fall in a last attempt of defiance, hovering in a thick sheen over his eyes. “Since they couldn’t punish me, their wrath turned to the original culprits.”

Tighnari felt like a hole had been punctured in his lungs. He pressed himself closer, his tail curling around Cyno’s naked side as he put his chin onto the other’s shoulder, coating the scars in his warmth.

“They whipped them too. But this time, they made sure Candace wasn’t allowed to treat them. They moved them away from our town square so the cameras during this year’s Reaping wouldn’t see them. I think…I think they might still be there. But also, they might be long gone.”

“Cyno,” Tighnari wrenched out. He was used to feeling rage for the Fatui for what they had done to him and Collei and now to his two best friends but apart from the Hunger Games, he had never thought their cruelty would move past TV cameras. He thought they did it for their twisted perception of entertainment but this? His anger bled over his bones like acid, corroding something deep within him and his tears trailed over Cyno’s nape in a useless apology.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cyno said but his voice betrayed him. “I hold the kill record of the Hunger Games. What are a few more dead children, right?”

“This wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault, Cyno. The Fatui, they—”

“I think we shouldn’t hide behind the Fatui for this one,” Cyno turned on his seat and softly but adamantly pushed Tighnari off him. “We could have gone in there and refused to play by their rules. We could have killed ourselves or waited for death. But we decided to do something unforgivable for the sake of our own survival. And now that we have survived, we have to live with that decision.”

“It’s human to fight for your own survival. It’s what our deepest instincts urge us to do.”

“Maybe,” Cyno looked down on his hands. “It doesn’t feel human, though.”

“No,” the single bite of the tulumba lay like a boulder in Tighnari's stomach. “No, it does not.”

“You knew about those blue mushrooms, does that mean you have them at home?” Mika asked curiously, balancing over a mossy trunk while holding tightly onto his crossbow.

“We do. In fact, District 12 doesn’t look much different from the arena right now,” Kaveh answered patiently, too engrossed in their surroundings. He knew he shouldn’t get lost in them but he counted on Kaeya to watch out for danger so he could watch out for Alhaitham. Like someone had wrapped a thread of silk around his heart and was now tugging him along, his feet merely did one step after the other in the hope of finding Alhaitham between the greenery. He wanted to believe that they were close. That they would be reunited before dawn.

“That’s so cool! District 1 is kinda boring, we don’t really have—”

“Mika,” there was a smile on Kaeya’s lips though it couldn’t hide the slight edge to his voice. “We aren’t allowed to talk about our districts in detail, remember?”

“Oh, r-right. Sorry, Kaeya,” the teenager bit his lip, cheeks flushed. “I was just curious.”

“Aren’t we all?” Kaeya cast Kaveh his signature grin and the blond hurried to look away. The tribute possessed the talent to make everything sound like an innuendo, like they were talking about something entirely different and Kaveh couldn’t discern if it was still about the 12 he had scored in front of the Harbingers or if it was even flirtatious in nature.

Truth was, he found himself starting to like Kaeya. He had shown empathy when talking about the tour Dottore had given him - in his own mysterious way. He covered for him regarding his lack of combat skills and he was funny, fluent in gallows humor. Kaveh thought outside of the arena, they might have been friends.

But there was no world outside the arena anymore and Kaveh knew opening his heart for other people besides Alhaitham would leave him vulnerable. So he didn’t answer but continued to look around. He spotted another Rukkhashava Mushroom on a tree, one of the biggest he had seen so far if it weren’t for it having a chunk bitten out of it. Kaveh gasped and splayed his arm, causing Mika and Kaeya to bump into him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s here.”

“You mean someone?”

“No,” he pointed at the mushroom. The blue layers were chopped away as if a giant creature had taken a generous bite. The trace seemed fresh. The grass around the fungus was flattened in a big circular area, ending in the hint of claws.

“That’s big,” Mika gasped under his breath, taking a step back. Kaeya immediately pushed himself in front of the teenager. He started to approach the mushroom when Kaveh spotted one of the vines near it and grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Wait, I think that’s—”

But it was too late. Kaeya’s foot landed on the vine and summoned an irritated shriek. The vine came alive, pulling back so abruptly, it knocked Kaeya over. The three of them watched in horror when it became clear that the vine wasn’t a plant but belonging to a creature now emerging from the undergrowth.

The Fatui had created a nightmarish mutation once more, a fungal beast almost reaching up to the crown of the trees with stunning jade plumage describing a fan similar to one of a peaco*ck’s. But instead of a beautiful, delicate head, it possessed a beak reminding one of a dinosaur. A beak that exposed rows and rows of sharp teeth. It looked like someone had mixed all the fungi of the jungle with a long-extinct bird and was surrounded by sparkling, golden spores.

The Jadeplume threw back its long neck and let out a shrill shriek, sending the hidden birds in the area flying in panic. Kaeya frantically grabbed his sword and fought back to his feet, whereas Mika tried aiming his crossbow at the creature’s head.

“Are you serious?! f*cking run!” Kaveh didn’t care if it made him look like a coward or blew his cover of how he had obtained his high score, he much preferred living over status. So he pushed Mika’s crossbow down and yanked Kaeya back before the golden spores engulfed them. “Don’t breathe them in! Run!”

In the end, Mika and Kaeya didn’t need much convincing to chase after Kaveh, who quickly searched for a way through the thicket. It might be because District 12 was his home and he had spent hours playing hide and seek with Collei in the jungle or because he always had had an eye for the details but he managed to create a route for them by slipping through vines and bushes.

The fungal beast rushed after them, its two heavy legs causing the earth to shake upon impact. Where the tributes managed to squeeze through a crevice to gain an advantage, the mutation barrelled straight through the obstacles, causing trees to fall and smaller creatures like birds and lemurs to scatter.

“It’s coming closer!” Mika yelled right behind him. “Kaeya, what do we do?!”

“Run, I’ll stop it—!”

“No!” Mika and Kaveh screamed in unison. They skidded to a halt, watching how Kaeya whipped around, sword in both hands and charged at the creature. The beast was furious, foam sticking to its maw and Kaveh did not doubt that it would tear through Kaeya’s sword and then Kaeya himself without hesitation. He frantically looked around and his heart jumped into his throat when he spotted something familiar. Something of home.

The mushrooms were inconspicuous in the jungle because they carried the same green tones as all the plants around them but their caps were massive in diameter, big enough for several people to fit on. They were scattered all throughout District 12 and a beloved children’s attraction, their name explaining why easily: Bouncy Mushrooms.

Kaveh pushed Mika out of the way and aimed his mace. The Jadeplume was still charging at them and Kaeya was about to swing his sword upward to meet its terrifying maw when Kaveh found the right angle and threw his mace with all his strength. The heavy end met the bouncy mushroom head and was deflected immediately, his calculated angle proving triumphant when the weapon crashed into the creature’s jaw, ripping the lower half of it off with the impact.

The fungal beast shrieked in pain and lost balance, crashing into a nearby tree. After a second of shock, Kaeya spurred into action and leapt on top of it, ramming his sword into its skull. Mika sprinted closer and shot a crossbow bolt into the monster’s chest. Its last roar ended in an agonized shriek before it sank lifelessly to the ground.

Kaveh picked up his mace, sweat on his brows. Kaeya burst into a disbelieving laugh and Mika ran toward him when suddenly, the feathers and fungal matter of the creature started to dissolve into the golden spores formerly surrounding it. Kaeya’s laugh hitched into a cough and he pressed the collar of his shirt against his mouth, gesturing for Mika to move away.

“Let’s get out of here! Use the mushrooms!” Kaveh yelled and didn’t stop to look if they were following. He jumped onto the Bouncy Mushroom and was catapulted forward. landing on another one with a soft thud. Soaring over a whole cluster of the mushrooms, they brought distance between them and the Fatui’s horrors before reaching a small clearing and tumbling to the ground and over each other thanks to their momentum.

“You are brilliant,” Kaeya gasped, voice airy with laughter before he framed Kaveh’s face with both hands and pressed two kisses on his cheeks. “f*cking brilliant.”

Kaveh recoiled with a flustered sound, though he couldn’t deny the laughter bubbling up in his throat. Kaeya had already rolled himself onto his back again, making their survival known with disbelieving laughter. Mika smiled brightly at Kaveh and pulled him into a much tamer hug.

“Th-Thank you for saving him.”

“I didn’t—I just—” he knew the adrenaline was at fault for pumping his veins full of addicting exhilaration, the taste of still being alive too sweet for Kaveh to suffocate again. So he embraced it, falling onto the ground beside them both, forgetting about the Hunger Games and what they had turned their future into. “It was just physics, really.”

“Just physics he says, Mika. Do you hear that?” Kaeya snorted. “You are full of surprises, District 12.”

“I just saved your life, don’t you think calling me by my name would be more appropriate?”

“Just making sure you are not getting attached, Kaveh,” Kaeya winked and once more, Kaveh couldn’t tell if he was messing with him or being sincere. Mika giggled but hurried to look away when he saw Kaveh’s confused expression. The other two got to their feet and both reached out a hand to him.

Kaveh took them both with a smile. It was already too late for him and they all must know it. Going through a near-death experience together made you attached if you were human. And when he saw the light in Mika’s eyes and the mirth in Kaeya’s face, he knew that was what they must be, Treasure Hoarders or not.

“We should go back before Yelan throws a tantrum,” Kaeya hummed, still in good spirits.

Although it was tempting to use the mushrooms again, they made sure to go a different route in case the golden spores still lingered in the air. Together, they helped each other through the thicket whereas Mika excitedly recalled their adventure as if he feared the Fatui in front of their TVs might have missed it.

When they reached the Cornucopia, their euphoria immediately dimmed. The others were already back, their upper lips stiff and their faces dark as they stood around one figure on the ground. A strangled sound escaped Kaveh when he identified the person as Changchang, her face a canvas of red and black, her features shattered like porcelain.

“Oh no, Changchang,” Mika gasped, pale around the nose. Their arrival didn’t go unnoticed. Tomo waved in greeting but was lacking his usual smile and instead sat down on a nearby chest. Sara shot Kaveh a glare that lingered like a scalding hot iron on him. He resisted the urge to hide behind Kaeya, unsure why her hostility was suddenly back.

“You finally made it back,” Yelan spoke up, voice devoid of emotion as if her district mate wasn’t currently bleeding out on the floor. She was covered in blood herself, scrapes and bruises on her naked arms. Her sharp eyes locked onto Kaveh. “Changchang and I ran into your admirer.”

“Haitham did that?” the sweetness in his throat, witness to rare laughter in the arena, was replaced by a tight knot. Kaveh’s palms grew slick with cold sweat. Changchang was fighting for every single breath and it sounded wet and wrong.

“No. His little friend. That Dehya bitch,” Yelan put a hand on her hip. “Alhaitham decided to go for me instead.”

“But you are still here,” Kaeya pointed out, resting his arm on Kaveh’s shoulder. Whether to trap him in place or to show support remained a mystery. Kaveh couldn’t look at him to analyze his intention because his gaze was still glued to the gruesome sight Changchang made.

“I told him if he’d kill me, you wouldn’t hesitate to cut open Kaveh, that’s why.”

The arm on his shoulder tensed and Kaveh’s head jolted back up.

“H-He saved Kaeya out there,” Mika dared to speak up, though when Yelan narrowed her diamond eyes at him, he sputtered out an apology. “J-Just saying, without Kaveh, we wouldn’t have made it back.”

“Really?” Yelan arched a brow.

“Stop it,” Kaeya pulled away from him and a sudden panic surged through Kaveh’s every cell in response. He became acutely aware of his position, of Sara’s hostile gaze and Tomo’s agonized expression as if they all were in on something he wasn’t. Saving one of them was not enough to become a part of their group. “Kaveh said he isn’t aligned with Alhaitham anymore. You can’t punish him for what happened to Changchang.”

“You know that’s bullsh*t, Kaeya. The moment Alhaitham appears, he will ditch us. Archons, he’s still wearing that stupid blue feather, that should tell you everything,” at Yelan’s hiss, Kaveh’s hand darted up to the feather Alhaitham had gifted him. He was surprised it was still there after their fight and frantic escape.

“So what? Do you want to pretend we all wouldn’t do the same? We are f*cking humans, Yelan, no matter how hard you try not to be with your fake careless attitude. You will lose Changchang, the one you swore to protect, someone from home, and you want a target for your grief.”

“You know nothing about me,” Yelan’s eyes came ablaze with violence and she reached for her dagger but Kaeya made no move to back down.

“I know you trained under Xiao. One of the mentors who had to strip himself of all humanity left to deal with what he has become. But you don’t have to go down that same path, Yelan.”

“Do you even hear yourself? Don’t pretend you are a better person than me. You sold your f*cking body for some sponsor treats! Where’s the humanity in that?”

“Yelan,” Sara choked out, a hand pressed to her throat as if trying to push down the welling tears.

“What does she mean?” Mika chirped with wide eyes but was ignored by all of them.

Yelan looked like a fragment of herself, a mosaic of ruthless training and undying grief, of hatred so vile it must ignite her down to the marrow but when she spoke again, her voice was so cold it caused Kaveh to shiver.

“We will put two people on each watch tonight. Alhaitham will come, I’m sure of it,” she looked at the whimpering Changchang and then walked toward the mound of the Cornucopia, fleeing into its shadows. “Kill her. We have no use for her anymore.”

Sara grabbed her bow but Kaeya put out a hand. He kneeled beside the girl and Changchang’s eyes, or what was left of them, desperately clung to his. Kaveh sank to the ground, only realizing it, when he sensed Tomo’s hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Kaeya whispered and brought down his sword, granting Changchang her final rest.

When the hovercraft appeared to pick her up, the soft purr of the machine merged with grief-stricken sobs pouring out of the Cornucopia.

Chapter 16: ablaze

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - ABLAZE

"He’s not my lover. He's my home." - Kaveh

“How are you feeling? Still okay?”

“I’m fine, Dehya, really. The same as I was five minutes ago,” Candace laughed softly and rolled her bandaged shoulder for emphasis. “The Fatui really know their medicine.”

Alhaitham scoffed but didn’t comment further. He was walking ahead of them, equipped with a flashlight from Dehya and Candace’s acquired backpack. Though he was reluctant to use it and draw potential attention, a twisted ankle from stalking through the jungle at night was not on his agenda either. Candace kept up with them despite her injury after they had patched her up with the salve Tighnari had sent him.

Still, as much as their current state created a flicker of hope, Alhaitham refused to let his guard down. The run-in with Yelan still gripped him to the marrow. Not because he feared he couldn’t kill her - he had been so painfully close to doing so, actually - but because of how her fate and that of every Treasure Hoarder was now tied to Kaveh.

He needed to get him out of there and that quickly. Considering the state Yelan and her district mate had been in when they had met, no heavy bags, travelling light, they were still close to the Cornucopia. And close enough for the Treasure Hoarders to feel comfortable enough about splitting up. But after they had fled to tend to Candace’s injury and something big had shaken the jungle with bird-like shrieks and trees crashing down, they had retreated further and further.

Which was why they were still wandering through the darkness, to close the gap again. The flashlight scanned their surroundings like a spotlight but he doubted the Treasure Hoarders would hunt at night - they didn’t need to, they had an excellent shelter to retreat to. Still, he kept his machete in the other hand.

Whatever lurked in the jungle, Alhaitham wasn’t keen on getting eaten by it.

But he also refused to spend another night doing nothing.

They all flinched when the hymn of the Tsaritsa filled the arena for the second time. Through a gap in the canopy, the murdered tributes’ portraits appeared.

Alhaitham was unable to suppress the haunted sound that escaped him when he saw the picture of Timaeus, District 2, the young man he had killed this morning - this morning, or a lifetime away, the memories so blurred as if he was still being pushed underwater. Breath so ragged, he feared he had never come up.

After District 2, the young girl from District 4 followed. Her face was round, a childlike innocence clinging to her. She even smiled shyly in her portrait. The sight wouldn’t match the red and black gore Alhaitham remembered, couldn't be linked to the parts of her sticking to Dehya’s club.

Behind him, Dehya wrenched out a strangled noise and Candace pulled her into a hug. The girl’s portrait vanished and the last one, the girl from District 11, Layla, appeared.

“It’s okay, Dehya, it’s okay,” Candace helplessly rubbed Dehya’s back before she plucked a large leaf from a nearby tree and held it out to her in lack of a proper tissue. Dehya snorted, half a sob and half a laugh, before blowing her nose. Alhaitham kept his gaze pinned to the sky but it was back to being a blanket of darkness. The wind had gotten colder, softly tugging at his hair.

“f*ck, this is such bullsh*t. How dare they—how dare they do this to us—” Dehya rambled in between sobs before she furiously wiped her eyes and stalked to the helm of their little group. “At home, we p-protected those kids. And here we have to f*cking slaughter them, it’s not f-fair…”

Candace murmured soothing words and Alhaitham silently claimed them for himself, stuffed them into his pockets, dared to brush his fingers over the affectionate tone as if he was deserving of them despite what he had done. He looked at them both, how Candace held Dehya’s face between her hands like something precious and how Dehya forced a laugh to feign strength and pleaded he didn’t have to be the one to kill them in the end.

“Everyone alright?” Candace asked softly. “Let me lead, come on, Haitham, give me that flashlight.”

Candace took over the navigation since it was her strong suit but the breeze picked up more and more and even in this biome, their breaths were close to becoming white little clouds by night. Alhaitham took off the sponsor jacket and handed it to Candace because her shirt had been torn during the attack and she shivered with every step.

“Use it, your muscles must be tense.”

“Thank you, Haitham,” she almost drowned in the fabric due to her much smaller frame. But she stalked straight ahead with newfound resolve until she threw back her head in annoyance, glaring at the sky. “This arena is a nightmare to navigate! I use the stars to orient myself but I don’t think these stars match our real ones. I don’t recognize a single constellation! How do they expect their tributes to achieve anything like this?”

“They don’t. They just hope we bump into each other by accident and resort to violence when caught off-guard,” Alhaitham muttered but he was only half listening because in between the trees, he spotted something much brighter than the dark greens and browns surrounding them all night. “Over there, Candace.”

The girls followed his pointing finger with their eyes and gasped. The flashlight still in Candace's grip, it illuminated their path and together they approached Alhaitham’s observation. Thankfully, the crisp night breeze was their only companion as they snuck through the jungle before it gave way to a familiar sight.

The lush vegetation ended abruptly and was swapped out by a stone desert, similar to the one they had started on in the arena, with singular rocks and small mountains in between but no trees or water source in sight.

“We must have been walking in the wrong direction,” Dehya mumbled and Candace turned off the flashlight because out here, the artificial moonlight bathed them in a milky light. “How big is this arena?”

“The dense jungle slows people down significantly. We might have been travelling for hours but only covered a kilometre or two due to the terrain,” Alhaitham thought out loud, recalling their hiking trips with Tighnari through District 12’s jungle. He stepped out of the trees and onto the stone plateau in front of them, essentially making himself a target.

But they were alone in the stone desert. One would see danger approaching in an instant. The moonlight poured over the rubble and the rough cliffs looked similar to the one he had saved himself on when the waters had crashed in. Alhaitham scrunched up his brows and turned around. They looked awfully similar. Dehya and Candace lingered close to the trees.

The jungle stopped on an almost straight line. Not surprising, considering this was not real nature but the work of Harbingers. But in the past games, they had set great value on realism for an entertaining and fulfilling experience. They wanted the Fatui to become engrossed in the games and the tributes to believe they were in a real forest or lake or whatever they came to. That’s why they learned about plants and camouflage.

“Curious,” Alhaitham said, tilting his head.

“What? What do you see?” Dehya looked over her shoulder into the dark jungle, a nervous hitch to her voice. She grabbed Candace by the hand and pulled her onto the stone plateau but Alhaitham started walking parallel to the jungle. “What’s wrong, Haitham? You’re making me nervous here.”

Alhaitham ignored her and pivoted on his heels once again, overlooking the stone desert. The moonlight was bright but to their right, its shine was even more pronounced. Alhaitham jogged to a nearby stone and climbed on top. He abandoned all caution and got on his tiptoes. The moonlight was being reflected by dark, quiet waters, setting the part of the arena alight in a mesmerizing silver.

His heartbeat picked up, his mind following right after as his thoughts started to race, calculations pouring in. He observed the stone desert stretching out in all the directions before meeting the water biome they had seen once before and then the jungle in his back, where the Cornucopia was hidden.

At the beginning of the games, the terrain had been the same, and endless arena filled with nothing but rubble. Now the jungle veiled everything else from view, so neither of them had realized parts of the arena had changed. But people had fled from the Cornucopia fight, people were out there in the other corners of the arena.

He hadn’t noticed before because he had been in the midst of it, trapped by water and by trees. Trapped in his own bloodsoaked mind after a kill. The water biome was too far away to compare but the stone desert was all around them. And it not only looked similar but had the exact same formation of rocks in every other direction. It was symmetrical.

“It’s a game board,” he whispered in awe. And then, louder so the girls could hear him. “The arena is a game board! Look, everything’s lining up!”

He sprinted back to the jungle entrance and followed the clear treeline, Dehya and Candace on his heels. Alhaitham took the flashlight and directed the beam to the canopy. The trees bent down, vines curling around the trunks. But it was the leaves that betrayed them. A crucial little detail the Harbingers must have missed.

One of the leaves hung over into the stone desert and was cut in a clear line, unable to bypass the invisible barrier between the biomes.

“Holy f*ck,” Dehya gasped behind him.

The area around the Cornucopia had changed twice. The rest of the arena had remained the same apart from one water biome. If the jungle was one square on a game board, they were now standing on a different one. His gaze flitted up to the sky, where the tributes portrait’s had been displayed mere minutes ago and his breath caught in his throat.

“The tributes trigger the terrain change.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“We thought it would be the arena but it’s us. Why would the Cornucopia area change twice in such a short amount of time and then not for a whole day? There’s no pattern. It’s not related to the day-night-cycle. Nor is it a tool for the Harbingers to gloss over uneventful times because it got immediately triggered during the bloodbath of the first day.”

“What would trigger it? Something like a lever?” Dehya wondered.

“There would have to be one in every square. There could be one in the Cornucopia, easy access for the Treasure Hoarders but—no that would make them almost invincible and even worsen the power imbalance between untrained tributes and the Treasure Hoarders because if they see someone approaching, they could turn the terrain into water to simply wash them away.”

The memory lashed back at him, overcoming him like an avalanche.

His foot pushing District 2 into the waters. Him waking up in the middle of the jungle.

“No that doesn’t add up,” he whispered. There had been more kills than terrain changes in this square. People had died like flies during the Cornucopia fight. “Unless—unless it takes time to get triggered. The first deaths could have overwritten each other…”

“Archons, can you not speak in riddles for one second?” Dehya threw up her hands exasperation but Candace caught onto Alhaitham’s scattered thoughts.

“You think the biome change is triggered upon the death of a tribute?”

“It’s merely a hypothesis for now. But yeah, that could be the case.”

“But then why didn’t the area around the Cornucopia change like six times already?” Dehya’s mouth pulled into a confused frown as she leaned against a nearby tree.

“Because changing it takes time. This is not a real earthquake or a real flood. It’s artificial and the Harbingers have to react to it, they have to set it in motion,” Candace offered an explanation but Alhaitham shook his head.

“Not quite, I’d say. They can cause trees to grow instantly, we have seen it. But don’t forget where we are. This is a show. They are the game makers and this is their board. If people die within the same minute of each other, the change wouldn’t be visible and the horrors they have crafted couldn’t be admired by their audience.”

“Of f*cking course,” Dehya scoffed, disgust scorching her tone.

“So, what timeframe are we working with? 5, 10 minutes?” Candace asked.

“Something like that probably.”

“But the girl—” Dehya’s voice broke off and she needed a moment to collect herself before she was able to speak. “District 4’s girl. She died, we saw her portrait up there. And we didn’t hear a cannon shot shortly after that. She must have died near the Cornucopia, right? No way she has made it to the water biome that must be kilometers away!”

“Yes, and the jungle hasn’t changed,” Candace nodded.

“Maybe they dragged her out of the jungle, to the other side we can’t see from here.”

“The Treasure Hoarders were obviously exploring, that’s why we ran into them. Maybe they have abandoned the Cornucopia.”

Alhaitham threaded a hand through his hair, deep in thought. He let Dehya and Candace throw their theories around but didn’t engage. They were missing something here. An important puzzle piece they had yet to find. They wouldn’t get an answer unless they managed to kill someone in the jungle and although Alhaitham knew this was what it all came down to, the thought made him nauseous. He shook his head as if to disperse the feeling.

“Do you still feel well enough to travel?” he asked Candace.

“Yes,” she immediately nodded.

“No! You got f*cking shot!” Dehya protested. “It must be close to midnight. We need to put up shelter and get some rest. We can’t keep running through the jungle in the dark, best case we trip and break a limb, worse we get attacked by some weird Harbinger mutation.”

“I’m not wasting another night,” Alhaitham canted his chin up in defiance.

“We can’t fight them with Candace injured, Haitham. I know you want to save Kaveh but—”

“We can never fight them,” Alhaitham corrected her calmly. “They outnumber us at any time. And I’m not risking them using Kaveh as a shield. No, this has to be a stealth mission.”

“They will expect us,” it was almost surreal, how Dehya was the voice of reason in this, the brazen lioness who preferred to approach problems head-first. Alhaitham knew she was right but he couldn’t listen to reason right now. f*ck, the jungle could go up in flames and he would walk toward Kaveh until the soles of his feet were scorched and blistered.

“Dehya, he saved me today,” Candace murmured softly. “We said we would be allies.”

“I know,” Dehya groaned. Her dark lashes flung upward in apology. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again. Or worse.”

“As I said, we will avoid confrontation. All I need is you as back-up, an extra pair of eyes. Once we reach the Cornucopia, I’ll go alone. But we can’t slow down now,, he waited for their answer out of politeness because, as Candace had pointed out, they were an alliance, but they all must know nothing would stop him.

“They might not be at the Cornucopia anymore if your theory about the terrain change is right.”

“Yes, I know. But we have to start somewhere.”

He held onto the mace as if it was a stuffed animal, cradling it against his chest because there was nothing else to hold onto anymore. The weight of it lay heavy against his sternum and Kaveh kept his gaze pinned to the sky. Even though the tributes’ portraits were hours gone, he saw Changchang still up there. His lashes shimmered in the milky moonlight, aglow with blue-tinted grief.

The worst about it was that he wasn’t mourning Changchang but himself. Even if Tighnari and Alhaitham stubbornly followed through with their plan of getting him out, Kaveh wondered how one ever came home after this experience. No wonder so many former tributes turned to alcohol or worse or like Yae Mika hid in between the Fatui to give their life a reason. He would do anything for a bottle of moonshine from District 12’s black market right now to numb the turmoil in his head.

“Oi, this is a two-person watch,” Kaeya poked him between the ribs and Kaveh slowly sat up. With the jungle around them, the rest of their group was sleeping peacefully in the Cornucopia. Kaeya and Kaveh had taken the last watch of the night, though it was a pointless task since no one ever saw something coming out of the jungle until it was too late. The vegetation just was too dense.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and fixed the blue feather in his hair.

“Worried about your lover?” there was a playful tease to his voice but also a genuine question. Kaveh slowly learned that this was what Kaeya was all about. He wore a mask just like the Harbingers and due to his position as District 1’s favorite, he couldn’t pry it off.

“He’s not my lover,” Kaveh protested and slung his arms around his propped up knees before bedding his chin on top. The night was cold for the biome they were in, nothing like District 12’s tropical summer nights. A hike there and clothes got drenched by the humid air. Alhaitham had always brought cold tea along. Kaveh the blanket for them to rest on. Collei and Tighnari the treats. “He’s my home.”

Kaeya hummed in understanding, which ignited an unreasonable irritation in Kaveh. He didn’t know a thing about them. No one did. Not the Fatui, not the Treasure Hoarders.

“Yelan is right, you know?” it slipped past his lips before reason could hold him back. “If Haitham shows up, I’ll leave you in a hearbeat.”

“Yeah, of course. I expected no less,” Kaeya tilted his head to look at him and as much as Kaveh wanted to keep up the stubborn farce, he crumbled under the intensity of his one-eyed gaze.

“Why did you defend me then?”

“Because they like seeing their darlings alive,” Kaeya shrugged. “And perhaps I enjoy it just as much.”

“Do you ever speak your mind or do you just hide behind your flirty attitude?”

“You think I’m flirting with you?” Kaeya sounded delighted at the thought, his airy laugh soaring into the night.

“Not what I said,” Kaveh brushed him off although his mouth twitched into a brief smirk as well. It was easy to laugh in Kaeya’s presence, no matter if out of relief of still being alive or because he worked his charm.

“Some questions should remain unanswered,” Kaeya’s face turned serious all of a sudden. He craned his neck and Kaveh followed his gaze. The Cornucopia was big enough for the jungle trees no to cover their view of the sky. The moon was slowly fading. Dawn was approaching.

“Beautiful, aren’t they? Even though they are fake,” Kaeya smiled.

“Yeah,” the stars were shining brighter than at home. He wondered if they were lamps or cameras. Or both.

Kaeya jolted to his feet so quickly, Kaveh whipped his head around in fear of an attack. But all he got was the other’s hand to take.

“Let’s take a walk.”

“A walk?”

“A patrol,” mischief flickered in Kaeya’s eye. “If it makes you feel better when we call it that.”

“You’re awful,” Kaveh rolled his eyes but took his hand. Together they climbed down the Cornucopia and almost stepped onto Mika’s face, who was snuggled up in his bedroll but positioned so that he would immediately catch on if Kaeya turned to leave. The teenager sat up and looked at them with big, confused eyes. Kaeya whispered to follow them and together they walked around the Cornucopia, taking the one direction neither of them had scouted during the day.

“Where are we going?” Mika mumbled, clumsily keeping up with them, voice laced with sleep. Kaveh let go of Kaeya to help the teenager through some hanging vines instead and he cast him a sleepy smile. He reminded Kaveh so much of Collei every soft glance was a punch to the gut.

“We are handing Kaveh over,” Kaeya said without turning around or slowing down.

It was Kaveh who stopped mid-step, so Mika bumped into him. “What?”

“Alhaitham is here. I saw a flashlight through the trees.”

“Wait, Kaeya—” Kaveh grabbed the other’s arm, finally urging him to halt. “That could be anyone!”

“Could be,” the tribute mused, still smirking. “But we both know it’s him.”

“But Kaveh said he isn’t aligned with Alhaitham anymore! He’s one of us now, he fought with us!” Mika chirped and the tremor in his voice was enough for the older two to redirect their attention. Even though Kaveh wanted nothing but look around for Alhaitham to appear between the trees, he walked over to Mika and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“I’m sorry Mika but Kaeya is right. I belong to Alhaitham. He’s my home. Just like Kaeya is yours.”

“But we need you!” the teenager grasped at his sleeves, holding him close. His lower lip wobbled. The cute lock on top of his head swayed gently in the first rays of sunlight crawling through the trees.

“No, you don’t,” Kaveh cracked a sad smile. “Believe me when I say you fight better than me.”

“He’s right,” Kaeya grinned before carefully prying Mika’s hands off of Kaveh.

They looked at each other and Kaveh found himself rooted to the forest floor, hesitating. A nervous voice in his mind warned him that Kaeya couldn’t be trusted, that once he turned his back on him, he would get killed but it was a quiet one. Because the other had proven over and over again that Kaveh meant something to him.

Even if he didn’t understand his motives, he wanted to believe in them.

“I hope we never see each other again, Kaveh.”

“I hope so too,” Kaveh choked out and then was pulled into a hug by Kaeya. He clawed into the tributes’ back, looking over Kaeya’s shoulder at Mika, who seemed lost and confused like so many kids of the arena. He silently wished for their paths to also never cross again.

Kaeya slowly eased their hug but remained at such an intimate distance, Kaveh doubted the cameras would be able to pick up their expressions. Kaeya shifted closer as if he wanted to prevent the Fatui from catching a glimpse. His lips brushed against Kaveh’s earlobe.

“When I saw your entrance at the Colosseum I knew they chose right.”

“What?” Kaveh raised his brows, perplexed. “Wait, what do you mean—”

Kaeya drew back, his fingertips lingering on the side of Kaveh’s neck, cold and smooth like jewellery. His smile was still there and their closeness must instill him with more confidence than was wise because he opened his mouth again, revealing another wisp of secrets.

Kaeya’s voice was so quiet it almost got swallowed by the rustle of leaves.

“If you win, tell him that I—”

There was nothing but a small, orange spark on Kaeya’s neck, flashing through the fading darkness. A warning too little, too late.

The explosion came instantly and it billowed outward with a force that knocked Kaveh off his feet. He crashed into a tree and stars exploded in front of his eyes. There was a drumming of steps, people yelling, approaching, the roaring of an impending battle but it didn’t matter.

All the arena heard was Mika’s soul-shattering scream, drenched with panic and fear and grief, so heartwrenching it drowned out the cannon shot that thundered through the night.

The terrible smell of burned flesh filled Kaveh’s lungs and smoke swirled into the air but it wasn’t enough to hide the horrific sight in front of him.

“K-Kaeya?”

Kaeya’s head and the upper part of his torso were gone, ruptured by the explosion fired from his neck. The green jungle was tainted with red. Kaveh felt his own shirt clinging to his chest, dripping red, dripping gore, dripping parts of—

Mika had thrown himself on top of what was left of Kaeya, shaking hands cradling his scorched shoulders, pressing his remains to his small chest, face and arms covered in Kaeya’s blood. The boy was still screaming, his words nothing but a shrill ringing in Kaveh’s ears, the tone overwriting his own rapid heartbeat, his ragged breathing.

There was a hole in Kaeya’s chest, a hole where his neck had been, a hole where his smile had been—

“Kaveh!”

Someone pushed himself between the gruesome sight and him. Someone grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him softly, then more adamant when he didn’t move. Kaveh registered faintly that the fluid on his shirt was still warm. That there was some of it clinging to his neck and jaw.

“Kaveh, do you hear me?! We need to get out of here! Nafasam, look at me!”

The person framed his face with their hands, jostling his head but Kaveh couldn’t focus his gaze; no matter where he looked it was tinted red. Someone cursed. Girls screamed. More people came running. But under it all, Kaveh’s ears only heard Mika.

“Wh-What did you do to him?!”

He was thrown over a broad shoulder, upper body dangling over an even broader back. Kaveh lifted his head and saw Mika on the clearing, hunched over the parts of Kaeya’s body that were left. Mika was loading his crossbow but his hands shook so hard, he couldn’t enter the bolt properly.

“What did you do, Kaveh?!”

He was being carried away. A strong, familiar hand on his lower back, kept him in place. A woman jogged right behind them holding up a wooden shield for cover. Another one called out directions.

Then, the remains of Kaeya’s body erupted into flames and the insatiable element of Pyro came ablaze, devouring the jungle all around them.

Chapter 17: through ashes

Chapter Text

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - THROUGH ASHES

"How can you keep me so tender with a mouth full of blood?" - Haitham

The gates of hell had opened.

There was no other explanation for the inferno that suddenly overcame the jungle. An uncontrolled flood of fire devoured the trees, sprung from leaf to leaf and threatened to lick up their feet as they soared across the forest ground.

Alhaitham had thrown Kaveh over his shoulder. The blond was limp in his grip, still locked in shock but he was breathing and that was all that mattered. They had arrived not a second too late. The moment Alhaitham had laid eyes on Kaveh through the undergrowth, Dehya and Candace by his side, a loud explosion had almost knocked them over. Whereas the others had thrown themselves behind cover, Alhaitham had leapt out of their hideout and sprinted toward Kaveh.

He didn’t know if it had been a mine, if some sinister mutation of the Harbingers had triggered it or if it was simply time for a terrain change in the square they were in—all he knew was that Kaveh could be next if he didn’t get him out of there. He was slick with blood when Alhaitham grabbed him by the face and so pale he might have been a ghost but Alhaitham tossed him over his shoulder and started to run anyway, Mika’s devastating, grating screams a jarring companion.

“To the left!” Candace shouted, already out of breath. She had trouble remaining at the front but she was the best at navigating and Alhaitham held onto Kaveh so fiercely, he was scared to lift his gaze off the ground. The ground that now was smoldering.

Formerly damp, soft moss was glowing and hissing when they stepped on it, igniting as soon as his soles lifted again. Trees surrendered to the ravaging flames and crashed into their path, white smoke followed them like a noose, turning hectic breaths into desperate coughs.

“Pull your shirts up! Don’t breathe in the smoke!” Alhaitham yelled, stumbling blindly forward without listening to his own advice. He didn’t dare to let go of Kaveh, who was still unmoving in his grip. Dehya yanked him by the elbow and steered him back onto a makeshift path. She had taken his machete from him, hacking away at the few vines that were still intact and blocking their exit.

“He killed Kaeya! He’s running with Alhaitham! Over there!”

Alhaitham’s stomach churned with adrenaline. His nerves were abuzz, his blood pumping almost violently. He had expected Mika to turn to vengeance in the face of his grief but he had hoped for him to need a little longer to collect himself. He didn’t have to look past his shoulder to know the Treasure Hoarders were now hunting them down.

But even Treasure Hoarders weren’t fireproofed.

“Dehya!” Alhaitham grunted out and raced past her when she immediately caught onto his plan. Still clinging onto his machete, she cut a cluster of vines coming alight with the unnatural fire the Gamemakers had set to the jungle and caused them to rain down on whoever was chasing after them. People cried out in surprise and frustration and Dehya let out a triumphant cheer before catching up to him again.

“Do you want me to take over?” she offered, casting the limp Kaveh in his arms a worried look. Alhaitham tasted the sweat on his upper lip but declined with a deep grunt. Nothing would stop him from getting Kaveh out of here—

Someone barrelled into them and Alhaitham lost balance. He tripped over plants coated in embers and barely managed to prop Kaveh up enough to protectively curl his hands around the blond’s head before they crashed to the ground.

Lacking a weapon, Alhaitham pushed Kaveh behind himself and lunged at the attacker.

“It was an accident, I didn’t—!”

For a brief moment Alhaitham saw the frightened face of a young man - Thoma, District 9 - then his fist connected with said face and Thoma’s nose broke, blood gushing over Alhaitham’s knuckles.

His brain registered that Thoma didn’t belong to the Treasure Hoarders and that he didn’t have a weapon either but Thoma made the mistake of lifting his own fists and kicking out, coming dangerously close to Kaveh and Alhaitham’s body moved on its own. Muscles still locked in a frenzy, the second swing caused Thoma’s head to fling back. The third knocked out at least two teeth. The fourth turned Thoma’s green eyes white.

“Haitham.”

In between the roar of flames Kaveh’s voice was like morning dew, gentle kisses on heart and knuckles. Enough for Alhaitham to snap back into himself. He tossed Thoma aside as if the unconscious tribute was nothing more than a ragdoll and scrambled around to see Kaveh sitting on the forest floor, covered in blood and ash.

“Can you walk?” Alhaitham pulled him up by his hands. Kaveh’s fingers were trembling as they laced with his own. He swayed on his feet but nodded. Alhaitham noticed he was still wearing the blue feather he had gifted him on stage. “Good. Quickly, come on, don’t let go.”

Never let go, he added quietly and Kaveh squeezed his fingers tightly before stumbling after him through the inferno. They had lost Dehya and Candace. Behind them, the Treasure Hoarders appeared silhouetted by a wall of fire. At least the elements were finally working to their advantage.

He didn’t listen for the cannon shot. He didn’t care if he had killed Thoma. He couldn’t care.

“Haitham,” Kaveh breathed out behind him and sounded close to fainting. Alhaitham stopped at once and looped an arm around Kaveh’s shoulders, before he tucked the other behind his knees, lifting him off the ground. The blond gasped in surprise but then tucked his face against Alhaitham’s neck and clawed into his chest.

While his muscles were scorched by exhaustion and his lungs scorched by the smoke all around them, Kaveh wept silent tears into his skin. Alhaitham gritted his jaw and pressed onward.

The burning jungle parted enough for the stone desert to come into view. In the distance, he saw tributes running that weren’t Candace and Dehya: two young teenagers desperately reaching out for each other. Another young man was running in the opposite direction, heavily loaded with supplies that slowed him down. It seemed the whole arena was thrust into chaos.

Alhaitham ignored them all. For the first time since they had reunited, he dared a look over his shoulder. The Treasure Hoarders were nowhere to be seen but the jungle had fallen victim to the insatiable element of Pyro. The cover was burning away and revealed a Cornucopia glinting in the distance. Smoke climbed high into the air and turned the bright sunrise into hazy grey-white fog.

He slowed down enough to prevent a cramp in his thigh and focused on adjusting his hold on Kaveh. Tears were running down Alhaitham’s face, not just because of the smoke. The two days in the arena had felt like a lifetime—he hadn’t been apart from Kaveh for this long since before they had met each other. Kaveh was the magnet drawing him into his orbit, sun and calamity in one and now he turned him to dust with it all, head, heart and bone.

“Almost there,” he whispered softly into Kaveh’s hair, the lie as tender as a bruise. But Kaveh trusted him because he pressed his face firmer into his neck as if he needed to inhale Alhaitham and not air, as if only their closeness could overwrite the horrors of the past hour.

Since he couldn’t spot Dehya and Candace, Alhaitham approached one of the cliff formations. He surrounded them slowly, watching his step on the rubble, and chose an angle that would give them cover from the Cornucopia. A temporary solution but they needed a moment to breathe.

He carefully set Kaveh down so the other could lean against the stone in his back and then used the dagger he had stolen from Yelan in their fight to cut off a part of his pant leg to use it as a rag. It displeased him to waste water like this as he drenched the fabric in the precious liquid from his water bottle but he was convinced for as long as Kaveh was covered in Kaeya’s blood, he wouldn’t be able to return Alhaitham.

Kaveh lifted his head in silence when Alhaitham wiped the blood off his face. The touch was featherlight in fear of bruises hiding underneath the blood but when it wouldn’t wash off, he heightened the pressure. Kaveh whimpered and closed his eyes, dewy lashes sprinkling his cheekbones in tears.

“You came,” he whispered and blindly reached out until his fingers found Alhaitham’s shirt.

“Of course,” Alhaitham said. He dropped the wet rag between them to put both hands on Kaveh’s cheeks. The only blood left was on his knuckles and it was a content, almost triumphant sight. One day ago, it would have launched him into a panic attack. Now it was proof that he was capable of protecting Kaveh. Nothing else had ever mattered. “I’ll always come for you, nafasam.”

Kaveh’s tears poured over his bruised knuckles and created an uncomfortable twinge against the grazed skin but Alhaitham ignored it. Kaveh’s eyes flitted to his mouth and he felt his breathing quickening against his damp fingers. He still looked far away and too fragile for Alhaitham to reel him in with his own want, so he canted his chin and placed a kiss on Kaveh’s forehead instead.

Kaveh exhaled with the softest sigh and leaned into the touch.

I didn’t know it would feel like this. Being loved by you.

Archons, neither did I, Alhaitham thought. How can you keep me so tender with a mouth full of blood?

Grotesquely enough, this was the moment Alhaitham remembered the people watching. Their reunion must have the Fatui on the edge of their seats. He assumed tears would be shed seeing them like this, breathing each other in, tending to each other’s wounds. And the fool inside him dared to entertain the thought of a future where they both would leave the arena—where the Fatui would adore their love story and they would be paraded around as their mascots until the end of time. Not a desirable life. Nothing he would ever want. But it was so hard to breathe Kaveh in and be content that this was all he was allowed to have.

“What do we do now?” Kaveh asked, voice still scratchy.

“We find Dehya and Candace,” Alhaitham sat back on his legs. “And we survive.”

A grating noise escaped Kaveh’s abused throat. It almost sounded like a poor attempt at a laugh.

He was beyond grateful for having chosen to watch the rest of the night in their suite. Ever since the Hunger Games had started, Cyno and Tighnari had spent the day in the Mentor Control Room and the sponsor lounge but last night, they had returned to District 12’s suite for some privacy.

They hadn’t stayed alone for long though because near midnight Nilou, Aether and Lumine had joined them, all of them a little flustered when they spotted Cyno and Tighnari curled up on the couch together under a blanket. Not that anything had happened. As much as Tighnari wanted to be near Cyno, they were both too exhausted and too tense at the same time to explore their feelings toward each other further.

“Do you want us to leave?” Nilou had asked. It was the first time Tighnari had seen her without flawless make-up and clothing, the first time he realized he had abandoned her and the twins in their team because he had been so focused on the games. But Nilou, Aether and Lumine belonged to District 12’s task force as well and so they quickly pulled out the couch and threw together pillows and blankets to watch together.

Now Nilou leaned against Tighnari, her warmth slowly seeping through his side and his tail curled around her back in apology. The twins were chatting under their breath, whereas Cyno struggled the most to keep his eyes open. He sat upright on the sofa, arms crossed in front of his chest but his chin would tip downward every other minute.

On screen, night had come over the arena. Alhaitham, Dehya and Candace were scouting the jungle and looking for the Cornucopia. They had an impressive array of supplies, weapons for each of them, two backpacks filled with useful stuff and a flashlight. Still, they were getting closer and closer to the Cornucopia and anxiety lingered as a bitter taste on Tighnari’s tongue.

“I can’t believe they figured out the mechanic of the arena so quickly,” Aether mumbled quietly.

“You mean, Alhaitham figured it out,” Lumine spoke up much fiercer, causing Cyno to awake from his two-second sleeping session once more. “He’s smarter than he looks.”

Ever since she had brought Alhaitham into the arena, Lumine had grown protective of him. They all were, obviously. Alhaitham had gone through hell and back already in the short time of the games. Tighnari had thought him dead three times by now. The others didn’t know Alhaitham like he did. They didn’t know that Alhaitham preferred doing nothing, loved slacking off with a good book, made excuses for not doing chores at home—this Alhaitham here, he had one purpose and he was willing to do everything to fulfill it.

It was almost surreal to see the transformation from his dear, level-headed friend into someone with death in their eyes. The fight with Yelan had been so close. Tighnari had known in that moment, Alhaitham would have killed her if she hadn’t mentioned Kaveh. He wondered if tonight he would pull through with it.

“But Alhaitham is right, we don’t know how it works yet, right?” Nilou asked curiously as the camera panned over the Treasure Hoarders and showed Kaeya and Kaveh keeping watch on top of it.

“We know there is some kind of mechanism and pattern behind it. We don’t know which exactly,” Tighnari mused. Truth was, he believed in Alhaitham’s theory of the terrain change being related to a tribute’s death. But he hadn’t been able to discern a time frame on it and what factors played into it because like Alhaitham had pointed out, the biome didn’t change with every death. In the end, it all could still be nothing but the capriciousness of the Harbingers.

“Oh no, he spotted them!”

“Who?”

“Kaeya!” Lumine pointed at the screen and suddenly everyone was wide awake. The camera caught the flashlight between the trees and then cut over to Kaeya’s sharp gaze. The tribute sprung to his feet and grabbed Kaveh’s hand. Tighnari clawed into the blanket in his lap. Mika joined them, leading Kaveh away from the others.

“What is he doing?” Nilou gasped. “Is he gonna switch sides?”

“Either that or he wants to use Kaveh as a hostage,” Cyno sounded calm as always but it wasn’t enough to ease the tension in Tighnari’s chest. They all stared at the TV screen, too nervous to blink. Thanks to the arena’s advanced technology, the tributes’ rarely went unheard even if they whispered. So it was no surprise that they heard Kaeya’s words as he hugged Kaveh goodbye.

“I hope we never see each other again, Kaveh.”

“Oh,” Nilou pressed a hand to her chest, engrossed in the heartfelt scene. Even Tighnari felt it tug at him. Kaeya was giving Kaveh free, was helping him escape. Why, he didn’t know but—

The tone became fuzzier with Kaveh’s answer and suddenly it seemed as if the technology rather sent the rustle of leaves than their conversation. Lumine hurried to raise the volume on the TV. Kaeya had stepped back with a smile and opened his mouth for a last farewell.

The explosion came out of nowhere. The screen became so bright it lit up the whole suite. The sound was deafening. Aether and Nilou screamed. Cyno and Tighnari jumped off the sofa, running toward the screen. Lumine sat still as a statue, both hands pressed to her mouth.

“Archons,” Tighnari choked out when the camera zoomed in on Kaeya’s shredded corpse. The upper half of his body had been turned into blood and gore, nothing more. It filled the clearing, seeped into the forest floor and soaked Mika’s and Kaveh’s clothes.

Kaveh. He was alive.

“K-Kaeya?”

Kaveh’s voice caused Nilou to break into a sob. He stood there, eyes open wide, blood on his face and neck. His pupils were blown but his gaze was out of focus. Tighnari remembered his own games, remembered the explosion that had destroyed his human ears and instinctively grabbed at the scarred mass hidden under his hair that was left of them.

“Oh Gods,” Lumine whimpered. “What happened to him?!”

“Did he step on a mine?! I didn’t see anything!” Aether wrenched out.

But before either of their questions could get answered, the arena broke into chaos.

Mika was loading his crossbow with trembling hands. Alhaitham was sprinting ahead of Dehya and Candace, rapidly closing distance between him and Kaveh. The Treasure Hoarders were startled out of their sleep from the explosion and Mika’s heartwrenching scream. Several other tributes hidden away in the jungle fled out of their shelter in fear of being next. Albedo, District 2, shouldered his supplies and swiftly took into the opposite direction. Razor and Bennett stumbled out of the jungle disoriented and so scared, they lost half of their treasure. Thoma, District 9, ran from Yelan appearing in the jungle, the rest of her alliance following on high alert.

And the jungle erupted into flames.

They were all out of their seats now. Aether and Nilou clung to each other as they approached the TV screen. The scenes were switching so quickly, Tighnari had trouble keeping up. No one had died yet but everyone had been catapulted into a state of panic by the events.

“They need to get out of there!” Lumine shrieked when the camera caught Alhaitham and Kaveh, finally reuniting. Tighnari reached out a hand as if he expected to glide through the screen, joining his friends in the moment. Kaveh was still in shock. Alhaitham caught on quickly and tossed him over his shoulder. They started to run but so did the Treasure Hoarders. So did everyone.

“This is chaos,” Aether wrenched out. Like all of them, he was preparing himself for another cannon shot. They all doubted Kaeya would be the last death that night.

But for once, fortune favored District 10 and 12 because Dehya and Candace quickly gained distance and managed to lead their group out of the mayhem that was the center of the arena. Yelan’s arrow missed and vanished into a wave of flames, unnoticed. Tomo stopped to comfort Mika. The Treasure Hoarders fell behind.

Thoma crashed into Alhaitham and Kaveh. Dehya whipped around but the fire made it impossible to reach them at her angle. The camera caught her agonized expression before she pivoted on her heels and ran after Candace, who was having trouble getting through a cluster of vines. The girls managed to break free and fled the jungle. Next to him, Cyno exhaled a relieved breath.

Thoma was one of Ayato’s tributes, District 9. Someone Tighnari had told Alhaitham and Kaveh not to worry about. He had no fighting experience but had taken the Reaping with grace. He had a lovely smile and a gentle voice. He could have been a Fatui darling if there hadn’t been so many strong characters this year. He could have been so much. But all that vanished when he stumbled into Alhaitham and Kaveh.

“No, he didn’t mean to—!” Nilou shrieked as the camera paused on Thoma’s scared face, catching his pleading gaze perfectly before Alhaitham’s fist hit him with full force. Now the noise was clear, the technology eagerly lapping up the despair and ferociousness of survival.

Alhaitham didn’t even flinch as he took his swings; it was as if red lenses shielded his vision. His face was a violent mask, his knuckles a weapon, blunt and unforgiving. Tighnari held back a distressed sound as he watched.

“Haitham.”

Kaveh’s voice snapped them all of it. Nilou sank to her knees, hiding her face in her hands as sobs shook her shoulders. Aether kneeled beside her, putting a comforting arm around her. Lumine was still staring down the screen, unblinking. Cyno started to pace up and down in front of the sofa like a caged animal.

“I’m so sorry,” Tighnari whispered when bloodied knuckles lifted Kaveh so tenderly the blond might have been made of glass. They fled the jungle at a steady pace. Alhaitham’s face was an unreadable mask. The microphone picked up Kaveh’s quiet cries.

The camera panned back to Thoma, unconscious on the forest ground, the flames slowly closing in. The Treasure Hoarders had given up the chase and focused on getting each other away from the fire. Tomo was carrying a distraught Mika on his back. Sara and Yelan held hands while they helped each other through the flames.

But Thoma would die alone.

“If you win, tell him that I—”

Kaveh held onto Alhaitham’s hand as if it was his lifeline, the tether keeping him rooted to the arena, the only reason why he managed to set one foot in front of the other. His body was present but his mind was on the verge of shattering like glass. Kaeya’s voice echoed inside it, the smooth and gentle whispers like a kaleidoscope of grief.

“If you win, tell him that I—”

“When I saw your entrance at the Colosseum I knew they chose right.”

They chose right. Who? The Fatui? The Treasure Hoarders? The Gamemakers? Chose what? Him? Him over Kaeya to be their favorite? Another soul that dared to dream despite being trapped in the arena? One that could muster a smile despite the circ*mstances? One that looked at fake stars and said beautiful? Did it matter? Kaeya had been wrong.

No one had chosen Kaveh, not even the Reaping Bowl. Kaeya had made a false assumption and paid with his life. He had said something compromising and the Harbingers had blown him up.

Because he had seen it. Mika might blame him but Kaveh had seen the spark erupting from Kaeya’s tracker, following a clear line like a scythe before activating an explosion. It took all his restraint not to tear his fingers into his own nape to carve out whatever monster they had put into them. He had never believed in the Gamemakers only to use their trackers to track their position in the arena but this—?

Kaveh tossed the thoughts around in his mind but he didn’t understand what Kaeya had wanted to say. Why he had said it. He had spoken as if he expected Kaveh to be in on his secret but Kaveh had wasted their last moment together by being clueless. Had Kaeya realized his mistake in the last second before the blast had ruptured his body? Had he died, losing all hope?

The worst was, Kaveh couldn’t even share his fears with Alhaitham. He was sure together they would be able to solve this puzzle, or at least craft a hypothesis but his tongue remained tied. Claiming that a Fatui darling had been blown up by a Fatui tracker? He would end like Kaeya within seconds. Archons, Kaeya…

Thinking about it all was like drinking poison and yet he took sip after sip, his throat becoming tight, his nerves whirring with another approaching anxiety attack. Kaveh’s muscles hurt, stiff and tender at the same time. He wanted to lie down. He wanted to hide. His heart was so heavy it was dragging him down, his shoulders slouched.

“Oi, come on, Kaveh,” Alhaitham urged him calmly. Their hands were laced together and Alhaitham was leading them through the stone desert in silence. Instead of sneaking from rock to rock, they were out in the open but then, even their opponents were lacking an advantage out here. Whoever decided to attack them would be spotted miles away. The sun was burning harshly and the skin in his neck prickled under the heat. A bomb basking in the sun. Kaveh felt like throwing up and covered the tracker with his clammy palm.

“Do we have a plan?” Kaveh asked, looking at Alhaitham’s profile. His heart gave a flutter but it was weak as if its wings had been partially plucked. He was so relieved to be reunited, so desperate to crawl into Alhaitham’s arms forever but then there was the overwhelming, sickening feeling of Kaeya’s blood on his skin.

“We are walking to this rock formation right there,” Alhaitham pointed it out. “Dehya and Candace will be there. Well, to 80 percent.”

“What do you mean?”

“This particular mountainside was where I hid for the first time in the Cornucopia square of the arena. Look, they repeat over and over,” Alhaitham steered Kaveh around by the shoulders and pointed out another mountain far from them, climbing up toward the sun. Kaveh squinted. His eyes flicked from one mountain to the other. They were identical. “The arena is a gameboard. It consists of 9 squares and when they share a biome, they’re exactly the same.”

“A gameboard,” Kaveh whispered. “That’s genius.”

“I’m convinced the biome change is triggered by a tribute’s death.”

“Oh,” Kaveh perked up. “Yelan was convinced it would be a cycle but after last night, it didn’t match up. Changchang died but nothing changed.”

“Yeah, we are missing something here,” Alhaitham mumbled. “Unless after Dendro—”

“Anemo,” Kaveh gasped and for a moment, they were back at home, slumped over the kitchen table to discuss a particular problem or riddle over coffee and treats. Voices flowing in the same rhythm as they closed in on the solution, excitement pitching the tone upward. Laughter and frustration when one of them caught onto it quicker than the other. “There was a breeze. Quite cold and strong despite the dense vegetation of the jungle!”

“So not a biome change but a change in climate,” Alhaitham nodded eagerly. “So the order is Geo, Hydro, Dendro, Anemo—Pyro.”

“His death must have triggered the Pyro biome, yes,” they didn’t mention Kaeya’s name but it hung between them, heavy and blue like rain. They both turned to look back at the Cornucopia square. The construct was barely visible due to cliffs blocking their view but the massive trees of the jungle were gone and the smoke had dissipated. “It would still burn if the Harbingers wanted it to. The terrain has changed again.”

“Not Electro. That would probably be a thunderstorm.”

“Not Cryo either. Do you see the heat haze above the Cornucopia? The metal is still being cooked by the sun,” Kaveh said, now on his tiptoes for a better angle. Alhaitham stood right behind him, following his sharp gaze and hummed in approval. “Maybe no one died. Maybe they did let it burn out after all.”

But they both knew that wasn’t true. Kaveh slid his hand into Alhaitham’s again, dodging his bruised knuckles. Even if Thoma hadn’t died with the impact, he would have burned in the forest fire. Alhaitham’s fingers looped around his hand and Kaveh took a calming breath.

He had feared it would come down to this. He had seen it during their encounter with Dottore already, something dark and violent in Alhaitham’s eyes as he lunged at whoever was in reach to protect him. Kaveh was too much of a coward to think about it.

Luckily, they spotted Candace sitting on the aforementioned rock formation, waving at them both with a relieved laugh. Dehya was leaning against the bottom of the cliff and walked toward them. When they were mere 50 meters apart, she started to sprint. Kaveh took a swift step to the side when she crashed into Alhaitham’s chest, throwing both arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m so f*cking sorry for bailing—I know we said we would do this together but I couldn’t see Candace and—”

“Dehya,” Alhaitham grunted in mild annoyance and she reluctantly let go of him, insecurity flickering like a shadow over her eyes. “It’s alright. I would have done the same. We decided we are in this for Candace and Kaveh, remember?”

“Yeah, of course. But—we are still a team,” she helplessly threw up her hands but Alhaitham shrugged as if it was no big deal to be left behind during a wildfire. But Kaveh started to understand his reasoning. Like a dog biting down on bone, Alhaitham had latched his teeth into the goal of bringing him home. He didn’t care how it was achieved. Just that it came true. His stomach clenched with unease but then Dehya’s gaze fell onto him and she pulled him into a tight hug.

“f*cking hell, Kaveh. I’m glad to see you.”

“Likewise,” he choked out as she pressed all the air from his lungs before putting him down again.

“Let’s get up there. We already brought all the supplies up. You must be exhausted.”

Dehya took Alhaitham’s backpack, still feeling bad about her hurried escape and led the way. When Alhaitham approached the cliffside, Kaveh pulled him back by the hand.

“What’s wrong?” immediate concern flashed in Alhaitham’s eyes.

Kaveh continued to draw in his hand and tilted his head, bringing Alhaitham’s bruised knuckles up to his mouth. His lips were split open and dry from the fire and the grief but against Alhaitham’s knuckles they still felt soft. Alhaitham forgot about the climb and turned toward him, his other hand reaching for Kaveh’s waist, quietly urging him closer.

“I’m sorry you had to do that for me,” he whispered against the bruises and bedded his cheek on Alhaitham’s hand before kissing it again, the touch sweet yet barely there. He kissed the back of his hand as if the blood ended there; as if they weren’t both forever tainted, as if they wouldn’t carry the stains of someone else’s soul with them for eternity.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham started to pull away, his voice dangerously wet.

“Let’s go,” Kaveh forced a sad smile and approached the mountainside, where Dehya was waiting. Because the time of going back was long over. There was no path left but straight ahead for them to not fall apart.

Chapter 18: chicanery

Chapter Text

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - CHICANERY

"There’s no home to return to without you" - Kaveh

“They’re alright. They’re together now,” Tighnari breathed and fell back on the sofa in relief. The suite of District 12 was chaos; untouched breakfast and a mess of blankets and pillows. Neither the twins nor Nilou had left and although Cyno was fighting to keep awake, all their nerves were strung taut like they expected to see another fight break loose.

But instead, Alhaitham and Kaveh had given the Fatui the most heartfelt reunion scene to drool and sob over. Kaveh kissing the blood off Alhaitham’s knuckles was as much a vow as it was an admittance of sin - the scales had tipped into their favour. Now the Treasure Hoarders and the alliance of District 10 and 12 were equal.

“Archons, I’m beat,” Lumine flopped onto the sofa like a fish and Aether chuckled at her antics before he followed. Tighnari wouldn’t say no to a spontaneous sleepover during sunrise. He was exhausted. They watched how their tributes set up a proper camp to catch a few hours of sleep. The Treasure Hoarders did the same in the Cornucopia. The scattered tributes all were busy regaining their momentum. The Fatui had gotten their fill of an exhilarating night, so they most likely would earn a few hours of peace.

Tighnari grabbed the nearest blanket and was ready to roll himself into a ball of fluff and fur when the door to their suite suddenly was thrown open with a loud bang. Cyno was on his feet in an instant, snatching a butter knife from their breakfast table.

“What the—” Tighnari’s sensitive ears rang due to the loud entrance and he hissed in annoyance.

But when he saw four Fatui guards wielding their batons enter the suite in formation, the annoyance ramped up to anxiety. Nilou scrambled back until she bumped into the table and the twins remained still as statues on the sofa.

“Drop the weapon,” one of the guards barked at Cyno, who held the knife like he did his spear - the cutlery might be dull but Tighnari didn’t doubt Cyno would be able to kill someone with a damn napkin if he wanted to. Cyno stared down the guard, unblinking. His exhausted aura had been replaced by half-crazed paranoia. An all too familiar sight most of the victors carried with them.

“Cyno, please,” Nilou urged under her breath, frozen in place.

Cyno’s red eyes darted over to her before he slowly unfurled his fingers and the knife dropped onto the luxurious flooring. Tighnari flinched at the shrill sound.

“Against the wall,” the Fatui commanded.

“What is going on? You can’t just barge in here, we are victors, we have rights—” Tighnari hissed. He was furious more than he was afraid. The sleep deprivation definitely did the rest. But his protest fell on deaf ears because now the guards swarmed into the suite and lifted their batons.

Nilou squeaked as one of them yanked her by the elbow and pushed her against the wall face-first.

“Don’t f*cking touch her—hey!” Lumine was next, only this time the Fatui used his baton to hit the back of her knees. She stumbled into the wall with an exasperated scoff. Aether hurried to close the distance to his sister so the Fatui decided to surround Cyno instead.

“Why are you here? What is the meaning of this?” Tighnari continued to spit out questions, now more to distract them from Cyno than to expect a real answer. After Cyno had confided in him about his past, he doubted the victor would react well to being surrounded by Fatui authority.

Two of them grabbed Cyno by the arms, pressing his limbs close to his body and pushed him toward the wall. Cyno’s brows were pinched together, the tendons in his neck strained, but he didn’t defy them. Tighnari crossed his arms in front of his chest when the attention of the Fatui turned to him.

“Answer my f*cking questions.”

“Against the wall,” the guard snarled like a broken record.

“I’m a mentor, I have work to do! What is the reason you’re keeping me from—”

“Uh-uh, there’s no need for animosities,” a dark voice poured into the suite, rolling in like a wave of fog. Enough for Tighnari’s muscles to seize up and his fur to stand on end.

Dottore was standing on the threshold of their suite, dressed in a cerulean cloak perfectly coordinated with his bright hair. His beak-like mask was in place but the pointed tip revealed his fake, cold smile like it had come fresh off the whetstone. Tighnari’s ears flicked in distress.

“Please don’t make this difficult, Tighnari,” Dottore purred.

“Dottore,” the monster of the Harbingers. The one who created the mutations in the arena. The one who had crafted his ears and tail and messed with the deepest parts of his self while he had been unconscious after his victory. The one who would have almost used Collei for his experiments if Tighnari hadn’t taken her home to District 12. The one who had almost raped Kaveh.

“Excuse me,” it was commendable that even in this situation, Nilou didn’t forget her manners. “We didn’t know that a Harbinger would visit us this morning, Dottore, sir. I’m afraid I missed it on our schedule.”

“Oh, that’s alright, my darling Nilou,” Dottore gestured to the guards to manhandle Tighnari against the wall and the mentor was so frozen in fear that he forgot to protest. One of the Fatui pressed his hand against the back of his head, pushing it against the wall. His nails dragged over the base of his ears and Tighnari escaped a dog-like whimper at the touch.

Dottore strutted into the suite as if it were his own, hands folded behind his back.

“This procedure is usually conducted unannounced to achieve the most authentic results,” he nodded at the Fatui guards. “Start with their rooms.”

They swarmed out like insects, knocking and dragging their batons over the furniture. The loud noise was enough for Tighnari to clench his teeth in discomfort. Lumine was cursing under her breath, calling Dottore every name under the sun, whereas Aether frantically whispered for her to be quiet.

“Has there been a security breach, Dottore?” Nilou asked, desperately clinging onto a conversational tone, though her voice trembled with every syllable.

Dottore stepped closer and threw his looming shadow over her delicate figure. Tighnari bit down on the inner side of his cheek. His heart was a raging war drum in his chest, hammering so violently it hurt. He hated what this man still could do to him with his mere presence. Cold sweat broke in his neck.

“This is a routine procedure, my dear Nilou. Every suite has to be checked. A mere safety precaution.”

“Lies,” Tighnari hissed through his teeth and regret spiked up his spine immediately when Dottore walked up to him. A gloved hand threaded through the fur of his tail. Tighnari swished it out of his grip but the touch seemed to linger like poison.

“I’m afraid I didn’t hear that. Do you have something to say? We take the concerns of our beloved victors very seriously.”

“There has never been a damn security sweep through the suites in my six years as a mentor, so don’t tell me it is a f*cking routine procedure. And even if it were, why would they send you?”

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be busy pressing buttons and blowing up tributes right now?” Lumine blurted out and the attention of the shadow in his back shifted. They all listened to how the Fatui guards raided their bedrooms; glass splintered against the floor, clothes and pillows were thrown around. Dottore dragged his polished shoes until he hovered behind Lumine. He grabbed her by the neck, pressing her firmer into the wall.

“Watch your mouth,” he said sweetly, sounding almost bored. “You never know who might be listening, young lady.”

“Get off me—” Lumine writhed against his grip but didn’t attack. She kept her hands balled into fists not daring to lift them. Neither of them did. Attacking a Harbinger was a death sentence.

“Negative, sir,” the Fatui appeared back in the common room, saluting in front of Dottore.

“See. You have nothing to worry about. Yet,” the Harbinger smiled into Lumine’s neck before giving her free. “This was very enlightening. Thanks for having me. Now, I won’t keep you from working any longer.”

He clapped his hands twice and the guards rushed out of the room. Lumine and Cyno whipped around the moment the last heavy boot was over the threshold. Tighnari turned once Dottore’s cloak had vanished from their sight. He leaned his back against the wall and sank to the ground, knees too weak to carry him just a second longer. Nilou sat down beside him, squeezing his arm.

“What the f*ck was that for?!” Lumine huffed. “Routine procedure my ass! I’ve never heard of that before. And why would they send a Harbinger to oversee it?!”

“You shouldn’t have said all that. He’s dangerous, Lumine,” Aether shook his head. “What if next time destroying furniture isn’t enough for them?”

“Tch. I’d like to see them try,” his sister snapped back but her brazen expression faded when they oversaw the destruction of the room. As if a tornado had swept through the suite, all fancy decor was shattered, the furniture in disarray. Their untouched breakfast carried splinters of glass.

“Chicanery,” Cyno said.

“Why? What reason has he to harass us even further? He already threw two of my best friends into the games, there’s nothing else he could—” Tighnari stopped mid-rant and fought himself to his feet. He ignored the others’ concerned questions and rushed into his bedroom.

They had pulled all the clothes out of the closet and sliced through the duvet and pillows as if expecting him to hide something inside. He couldn’t care less about destroyed accommodations. Tighnari rushed to his nightstand, where he kept the photograph of Collei and him. The frame had been shattered and someone had cut through the picture in a diagonal line, straight over Collei’s bright eyes and the little dimple tucked into her smile.

Tighnari plucked the photograph out of the smashed frame and cradled it in his shaking hands as white-hot anger rushed through his veins and had his eyes prickling sharp and wet. He screamed, frustration pouring out between his lips like gasoline. He pressed the picture against his chest and doubled over until his vocal cords hurt and no air was left in his lungs.

“Tighnari!” his friends were at his side in an instant and they understood just as quickly when Tighnari showed them the photo. Nilou took it out of his hands and he stormed toward the window that had no handle, the glass thicker than the walls of his victor’s villa. He slammed his fists against it regardless, needing an outlet for that terrible feeling of helplessness, drowning with the shore in sight, unable to escape, wave after wave after wave—

And then he was spent. His anger snuffed out like a dying candle. Because Tighnari couldn’t afford to lose track, couldn’t afford to give into his emotions, not even now. Cyno was right, it was nothing but a game to Dottore but it was all their lives at stake on their side. He dragged his hands over his face and smacked his palms onto his cheeks before turning around.

“We should go to the Mentor Control Room. Talk to the others.”

“Okay,” Cyno was on his feet in an instant although he must be exhausted.

“Stay here, just in case. Call for me if he comes back,” Tighnari said to the other three and then rushed out of the suite, Cyno a quiet presence on his heels. He was running on nothing but spite and adrenaline by now, desperate for a break but not giving in.

The Mentor Control Room was bustling despite the early hour. Although none of the tributes were in immediate danger, the mentors were immersed in hectic conversations, recalling the events of the last hours.

“Tighnari!” Kokomi approached them the moment they entered. She grabbed him by the arm and gently steered him to the side. “I’ve seen Fatui guards roaming the corridors, do you know what’s going on?”

Tighnari hesitated to answer truthfully - if Yae had asked him this, he would have mistrusted the question on it’s own but this was Kokomi, who he considered a friend. And even though they were rivals, she looked distraught enough for him to give in. Plus, Kaveh had really taken a liking to her tribute Sayu and she had been dealt a bad hand by this year’s Reaping. Sending an 11-year-old into the arena was the most tragic of it all.

“There has been a search of our suite.”

“What? Why?”

“If I knew,” Tighnari’s eyes flicked to Yae, who was sitting on the sofa next to Ningguang and Ayato. The tall mentor of District 9 was sunken into himself, hands folded together in his lap. Tighnari frowned. Ayato was Thoma’s mentor. “They went through our rooms but didn’t find anything. Dottore himself oversaw the procedure.”

“Do you think it has something to do with Kaeya?” Kokomi’s blue eyes were like the ocean on a sunny day, bright and empathetic whenever he engaged with her but now there was something else simmering underneath the surface, as if she knew more than she was letting on. Her lashes flung upward, pointing out one of the many cameras of the room.

“Why would you think that?” Tighnari asked, weighing the words carefully in his mouth.

“Because Jean isn’t here,” they both had forgotten about Cyno’s presence so when he spoke up, they flinched. The other nodded at the screens of District 1. Kaeya’s was black but the other was showing Mika asleep in the Cornucopia, something that looked like Kaeya’s hair tie wrapped around his wrist.

“She hasn’t showed up yet, yes,” Kokomi said. “What happened to Kaeya was…”

“Yeah,” Tighnari observed the room. Ayato was grieving and the others muttered their condolences, more or less genuine. Xiao was this immovable statue in front of the screens, not engaging with anyone. Jean’s absence became a tangible thing as he took them in - she was the link between the Treasure Hoarder mentors and the less fortunate ones, always kind and well-spoken.

“Was the broadcast fuzzy for you as well? Before the explosion?”

“I watched it here. I was focused on Sayu, I didn’t quite notice—but there was a lot of stuff happening all at once when the fire started.”

“No,” Tighnari shook his head, his whispering becoming more adamant. “I’m talking about the moment before the explosion. When Kaeya said he—”

“Good morning, friends,” Yae purred and inserted herself into their conversation with a fake smile and a hand on Kokomi’s shoulder. “Quite the show last night, wasn’t it? Kokomi, I think Ayato could use some cheering up, you two are close, right? He seems very shaken by Thoma’s death.”

“Oh,” Kokomi blinked. “Of course, yes. Excuse me, Tighnari. Cyno.”

“Congratulations, Tighnari,” Yae’s gaze lingered on him - she had abandoned Kokomi as quickly as she had sent her away and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Your lovebirds are reunited. You must be so relieved.”

“Save it, Yae,” he rolled his eyes and entwined his fingers with Cyno’s. It was more a reflex than a choice by now and he knew the other mentors had been talking about their closeness behind their backs but he also couldn’t care less. Cyno stepped forward and Yae, who must remember her first and only run-in with Cyno at the beginning of their visit to Snezhnaya, swallowed a snarky retort and left them with hurried steps.

“Archons, I despise her,” Tighnari gritted out and resisted the urge to lean on Cyno. The other nodded, his eyes still pinned to Yae’s back.

“Did Dottore create her ears too?” Cyno asked out of nowhere.

“I guess. I mean, I don’t know. I don’t care,” Tighnari corrected himself with an edge of annoyance. Yae was more a Fatui than a mentor to him—who cared if she conversed with Dottore to achieve her kitsune look? They were nothing alike. “Come on, let’s go. I want to check something.”

Cyno never pestered him for answers or demanded clarification for Tighnari’s moods and the other was grateful for it. He was getting used to this comforting presence in his back, a pillar of support after fighting this battle by himself for so long. He knew there were a lot of things unspoken between them but then again, Tighnari couldn’t afford to slow down to face them.

They left the Mentor Control Room to approach District 1’s suite but when they entered the corridor, two servants were busy carrying suitcases out of the room.

“Hey, stop!” Tighnari let go of Cyno and sprinted ahead. “What are you doing? That’s a district suite!”

“Mentor Tighnari,” one of the Fatui servants, a girl with freckled cheeks and friendly eyes, gasped in surprise and then blushed at his sudden entrance. “Yes, this is District 1’s suite. But Mentor Jean has decided to leave, so we are getting her luggage ready.”

“She can’t decide to leave, she’s a mentor! Mika is still in the games!” he tried to take a peek through the open door but the other servant, a lanky man about two heads taller than him, pulled it shut with a polite nod before shouldering one of the bags. “No wait—where is she? I really need to talk to her.”

“She’s already on the train,” the girl apologized with a bow. “Do you want us to deliver a message to her?”

“No, I want to talk to her. Face to face,” he insisted and stepped into the middle of the hallway, denying the male servant a swift escape. He narrowed his eyes at Tighnari’s quiet challenge and looked like he was about to say something when the door of District 1 opened again. The attire of the Fatui guard and the baton on his hip was enough for Tighnari to retreat a step.

“Is there a problem?” the guard snarled.

“Mentor Tighnari wanted to leave a message for Mentor Jean, that’s all!” the girl chirped happily, her face full of innocent expectation. She must be excited to be able to talk to Tighnari. She was so young, she probably was new to the job. She also most likely didn’t know that Jean leaving was not equivalent to Jean driving back home.

“Is that so?” the guard raised a brow. “What’s the message? I’ll make sure to deliver it personally.”

Tighnari felt his whole body freeze up; this was nothing compared to the anxiety attack he had had in Cyno’s arms. This wasn’t a roiling wave threatening to throw him under. This was the quiet, cold realization of drowning. Of shattered picture frames and traces of a knife across Collei’s laugh.

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

He pivoted on his heels and Cyno was there, catching him in his strong, certain arms. Tighnari clawed into his shirt, desperate for breath and let himself be half-carried, half-guided to the elevators.

Even in a place like this there was an elegance to him. As if the blood was his gown, woven out of red tears and blue grief, Kaveh’s profile remained sharp and regal as he looked over the ledge and observed the arena underneath them. He looked younger here, despite the haunted heaviness in his lashes. Without any makeup, his fragility became obvious. His cupid’s bow peaking perfectly in its middle, the delicate arch of his neck, the slope of his nose—Alhaitham knew he should sleep but there was no other place he’d rather rest his eyes on than Kaveh’s ethereal presence.

Dehya and Candace had settled down about an hour ago. Candace tucked into the sleeping bag, Dehya sitting beside her, sleeping against the cliff in her back. The sun had wandered enough for their hideout to be cast in shadow. Alhaitham and Kaveh had remained awake. Not because they felt well enough to keep watch but because neither of them wanted to let the other go, not even if they walked into much-needed dreams.

“You should sleep,” Alhaitham tried it anyway and Kaveh turned his head, an absent look on his face that got lost when their eyes met. Something gentle took over his features, a shy smile written on a bruised lip.

“I can’t,” Kaveh rubbed his temples. “I can’t close my eyes and face him.”

He didn’t know what had happened between Kaeya, Mika and Kaveh but there must be a connection there because, of course, there was. Because that was what Kaveh did to people. He caused their hearts to bloom and carved his initials into every petal. But he let them in just the same, even if he knew it was a mistake. It was as endearing as it was infuriating.

“Come here,” there was no point in arguing about it. “You need rest.”

They had two bedrolls between the four of them and he had draped the one Candace wasn’t using over the stone. He scooted over and flapped the opening back with a raised brow. Kaveh’s mouth twitched before he crawled closer and clumsily climbed into the sleeping bag. Alhaitham sat down by his head. His fingers had a mind of their own, like an extension of his heart they painted over Kaveh’s forehead with his devotion, gently brushing some blond strands aside.

“Close your eyes.”

“I can’t,” Kaveh choked out, his chest rising in a sudden wave of panic. Alhaitham pressed his palm against his roaring heart.

“Trust me.”

Kaveh’s lashes fluttered shut. Alhaitham continued to pet from his forehead to the crown of his head, feeling out the lines of worry on his forehead until they smoothed against his fingertips.

“Did you see the Rukkhashava Mushrooms near the Cornucopia? Just like the ones near our favorite spot at home.”

“Yeah,” Kaveh mumbled softly. “I pointed them out to the others but Sara said they were useless. And I agree. They don’t belong here.”

“Neither do we.”

“Ha,” Kaveh snorted bleakly. “That’s true, I guess.”

He arched his neck in quiet invitation and Alhaitham’s fingers trailed down his temple to the sharp cut of Kaveh’s jaw before following it, drawing a senseless pattern into the side of his neck. A little deeper, veiled by the collar of Kaveh’s shirt, sat the fading mark of his teeth. Alhaitham leaned against the stone in his back, closing his eyes as he felt it out. He wanted to believe the skin was still tender there as he dipped past the fabric and brushed over it because it made Kaveh gasp.

“I think they did it to throw us off. When I saw the jungle it was like someone had torn something from my deepest parts. They used our home for their bloodshed. And then they burned it down.”

“It might come back,” Alhaitham’s hand stilled against Kaveh’s pulse. It was fluttering like a hummingbird. He pressed his thumb on top, feeling the blood thrum.

“It might.”

“If it does—will you go there with me?”

Kaveh’s eyes snapped open in sudden understanding. He sat up, hand darting out to Alhaitham’s shoulder, holding him close. “Don’t say that, Haitham.”

“Say what?”

“You know what you just asked me to do,” a small furrow of anger appeared between Kaveh’s brows but it was quickly overshadowed by worry. His other hand came down on Alhaitham’s chest.

It was odd; after years of not touching at all, they now seemed to need it like air—as if one moment without physical contact was enough for the other to slip away. Alhaitham leaned into it, his own hand threading into Kaveh’s hair, cradling his nape.

“We both know it has to happen,” he said, voice all reason, touch all heart. “And I would rather it happens where I can pretend it’s home.”

In the end, the place wouldn’t matter for as long as Kaveh would be there for when his heartbeat softened. But to see him leaning over him with the crown of trees in his back was a peaceful concept. If it was possible to breathe in the jungle and see glimpses of blue Rukkhashava Mushrooms and red Mourning Flowers while fading, it would be like lying on top of one of Kaveh’s murals.

“Please, don’t do this,” Kaveh pleaded. He had gotten closer now, their mouths hovering a sigh away, both cradling each other’s necks as if their fingertips might burn through the rope wrapped around it. A tragedy patiently waiting to happen.

“I promised,” Alhaitham murmured back. “No one can stop me from bringing you home. Neither you nor I.”

“There’s no home to return to without you,” Kaveh insisted and Alhaitham lacked a witty response. Because he felt the same. The jungle of the arena was a poor imitation of their home. The colors might match but the arrangement was off. Home was their hiking trips, their picnic breaks, existing in each other’s spaces without a single word, speaking too many words during petty arguments. Before Kaveh and after his Nana’s death, Alhaitham’s house had just been that. A house. Home had always been Kaveh.

But because he couldn’t say that, because the words burned his throat just thinking about them, he grabbed Kaveh firmer by the neck to pull him in until their foreheads bumped together; Kaveh leaned into him, pliant and eager to let the thought of their ending go.

“Kaveh,” the name rolled off his tongue with an embarrassing gasp, yearning as palpable as the breeze playing with their hair. Kaveh’s breath hitched in return and his hands tugged at Alhaitham’s shirt, urging him impossibly closer. He slid on Alhaitham’s lap and he wrapped an arm around Kaveh’s waist to keep him there, hand slipping under Kaveh’s shirt to feel the knobs of his spine, the heat cresting between them like nothing he had ever felt before.

“Haitham,” Kaveh’s lips were chapped but Alhaitham knew they would be the softest, most sacred and tender thing in the arena. He had wanted them for so long but now he needed them too. But Kaveh was breathing heavily against him, chest pulling at him with every ragged exhale and there was still blood on his shirt. “Haitham, I—”

Alhaitham’s stomach swooped at the sound of his name from Kaveh’s bruised lips but his heartbeat wouldn’t calm down in the following silence. Kaveh’s hands darted from his chest to his neck, fingertips knotting into his hair, finally, pulling him in, as desperate as Alhaitham for a taste, and he mimicked the motion, grabbed him by the nape, and—

They both realized it at the same time.

“Archons, of course—” Kaveh’s eyes widened in shock, catching Alhaitham’s stunned gaze. They pressed their fingertips into the other’s neck, trailing the outlines of their trackers, pulsing, thrumming.

“This is how they change the arena!” they blurted out in unison.

Chapter 19: sense of justice

Chapter Text

CHAPTER NINETEEEN - SENSE OF JUSTICE

"“Revolutions require blood, Cyno. And we have no more to spill" - Tighnari

Cyno was no stranger to Fatui politics. District 10 had always been their training grounds. Their homeland was the biggest of the 12 districts but most of it was uninhabitable desert, where no crops would grow and no buildings would defy the sands. That didn’t stop the Fatui from going there, though. The elders of his district told each other stories from when Snezhnayan researchers would test out the abilities of old machines made of rusty metal and bright-orange cores in the desert. They said once almost all of District 10 had been covered by glorious buildings and thriving civilization but due to the steady and aggressive experiments, the area had ruined the farmlands and decimated the population.

Most of District 10 brushed their stories off because people loved to forget where they had come from. Not Cyno. During his assigned patrols he had stumbled over several parts of these old machines. Automatons, they called them. Ruin Machines the people of former Sumeru had named them. Some of them looked almost humanoid, others had taken on bizarrely-shaped forms and none of it made any sense to Cyno.

But what he had learned from those machines being hidden under the red sands of District 10 was that the Fatui didn’t care for their past or their future. They cared about the present, about entertainment and resource hoarding to turn the current state of the Snezhnayan nation into bliss without giving a thought about the rest of Teyvat.

Which meant that Jean, District 1’s mentor, was most likely not going home, where she had a family waiting and people that adored her. Because it would be a relief for her, to leave the stressful environment of the games. On the other hand, Cyno thought of her as a respectable person who still possessed dignity. Someone like her would never leave Mika alone after what the boy had gone through.

Tighnari’s anger was a driving force, keeping the mentor occupied. He was good at his job, much better than Cyno. He also was so immersed in his tasks that he often seemed to forget about Cyno’s presence. And while he understood why and knew there were more important things than their feelings toward each other, Cyno didn’t know how to tell him that sometimes he felt more like an anchor dragging Tighnari down instead of the sail bringing him ahead.

Now though, Tighnari’s mood swings were a welcome occurrence.

While Tighnari and the others planned ahead in the suite of District 12, Cyno had taken the elevator downstairs to Jean’s former room. He had patiently waited behind one of the many decorative pillars of the hallway, pretending to observe the Fatui architecture whenever a servant passed him until the coast was clear and he snuck down the corridor.

Jean’s door was locked but he had expected no less. He held the keycard he had swiped from a servant earlier against the scanner and squeezed himself through the door, closing it quietly. He might have been something akin to a guard in his former life but that didn’t mean he was on the side of the law. Especially because in the Tsaritsa’s world, laws were a mere tool of oppression and exploitation of the weak. Justice and law were not equal in a dystopian state.

District 1’s suite was spotless. No traces that she or her tributes had even been here. It looked like his own suite. The furniture was the same, as were the adjacent bedrooms. A huge bed with too many pillows in bland colours, luxurious and forgettable. Cyno carefully roamed through the space, eyes scanning every inch.

He didn’t even know what he was looking for. Traces of a fight or a confrontation - but then again, the Fatui could have escorted Jean out under a false pretence. There was no need for them to create suspicion. Cyno abandoned the tidy living space and stepped into the first bedroom. Considering the layout, it must be one of the tribute’s.

The closet was empty. The bed freshly made. The many shower gels and soaps in the bathroom had been replaced by new, unopened ones. Cyno looked into the mirror, regarding himself for a quiet moment. He had tied his white hair into a ponytail, a few strands framing his tired face. There were dark circles under his eyes but other than that, nothing gave away his inner turmoil.

He looked at the shower through the mirror and wondered what he was even doing. Did he expect to find something compromising like a detective out of a novel? And then? Would he confront the Tsaritsa? She would laugh in his face and lock him in a cell if he was lucky.

But still, his sense of duty made it impossible for him to leave. If something had happened to Jean, he would never forgive himself for letting it go. She was the only one of the mentors apart from Tighnari, who had bothered to talk to him at all.

The apartment door opened and was slammed shut. Cyno snapped out of his observations and pressed a hand onto his mouth to stifle his surprised gasp. Steps echoed through the common room. He had left all the doors open.

Cyno frantically searched for a hiding spot in the spacious bathroom but everything was open and bright. The steps were coming closer, already in the adjacent bedroom. Cyno lunged behind the door and pressed himself against the wall, even though he knew it wouldn’t be enough. The mirror would reveal his presence immediately. The person must be on the threshold. An annoyed sigh escaped the stranger before the steps departed. In the living space, a grating noise appeared, as if something was being dragged over the tilework.

Cyno slipped away from the wall and approached the only possible hiding space in the bathroom. The cupboard underneath the sink, where the servants stored the endless towels provided for the tributes. He pushed them aside and climbed inside, hitting his head in the process. He lay down flat and pulled the door shut, squeezed between fluffy cotton fabric.

The moment the door closed, the stranger entered the bathroom again. The grating noise had gotten louder. It sounded like a chair was being pulled over the floor. The person made another sound, tense and anxious. Cyno pressed his face into a towel and slowly opened the door of the cupboard enough for a small slant to catch the intruder.

It was a young man dressed in servant clothes with shimmering indigo hair covering his ears. He had dragged a chair from the living room into the shower and was now stepping on top, getting on his tiptoes. Although the whole ordeal must have been tiring, there was no colour in his cheeks or ragged breathing.

No, he was all business as he opened the vent above the shower with a versed movement.

Something fell out.

The stranger caught it out of the air. Cyno opened the cupboard a little wider, leaning forward to get a better angle. His right leg started to tremble with how crammed he was into the small space. He couldn’t make out the item. Then, the person jumped off the chair and slid the thing into his back pocket. Cyno’s eyes widened.

It was a card. A card from the trading card game Jean had told him about. He recognized the cardback, carrying the Fatui symbol.

The servant released another scoff, eyes flicking to the mirror. They were of the same indigo color as his hair but while his hair was glossy with product, they felt almost empty. Dark, round pupils not shrinking as they caught the bathroom lights in it. The stare apathetic rather than annoyed. Then, he shook his head and his expression changed as if someone had pressed a button. He was wearing the hollow, anonymous smile of the many Fatui servants again and strode out of the room with certain steps.

Cyno didn’t dare to breathe until the door of the suite fell shut.

The moment he was convinced he was alone, Cyno fell out of the cupboard. Legs cramping, he fought himself to his feet and then hurried over to the vent. Lacking height just as the intruder, he carried the chair back into the shower and opened it. As expected, it was empty. He dragged his fingers over the opening, then pushed his hand up, grabbing at nothing.

Cyno turned to look at himself in the mirror, shirt ridden up from trying to reach whatever Jean had left behind, a haunted expression on his face. He tried to remember his meeting with Jean in the lounge. He had sat at the bar, a little awkwardly waiting for Tighnari to finish his sponsor talks. And maybe a little hurt by his words, too.

Jean had started the conversation, not him. Normal small talk for most people, a struggle for Cyno. But Jean hadn’t been frustrated. She had pulled out her card and shown it to him, telling him about the trading card game the Fatui had invented. Why had she done this? Had she realized he was overwhelmed by Fatui pleasantries? Or had she been so excited about it, she simply had wanted to share it?

Serious and correct Jean didn’t strike him as a big gamer, now that he thought about it. But then again, Cyno was the last person who would judge someone by their appearance, considering people tended to do that with him. He slowly slid down the chair and carried it back into the common room, deep in thought.

She had gotten her special card from a Harbinger. It had been a gift. Dottore? Had the card been evidence and Dottore had sent a servant to collect it? Was it the last trace of Jean in Snezhnaya? Had they killed her?

But why?

“You’re missing something,” Cyno mumbled and looked around in the deserted apartment. “Collecting the card is the reaction. Why was it hidden in the vent in the first place? Who would hide a simple playing card unless it’s not a playing card?”

The questions were still swirling in his head when he snuck back to Tighnari’s suite, where Aether, Lumine and Nilou were sitting together for a late brunch. Cyno’s heart sank a little when he noticed Tighnari’s absence. He had the urge to discuss his findings with him, was excited to hear his side. Tighnari was smart and analytical, even more so than Cyno. Surely, he would have an idea.

“Cyno! We wondered where you went. Are you hungry? We saved you a plate,” Nilou welcomed him with a smile. They had done their best to tidy up the suite. The shattered glass and broken furniture were gone, most of it already replaced by the servants. Cyno sat down beside Nilou and grabbed the offered plate.

“Where is Tighnari?”

“Talking to the sponsors. He wants to send another supply haul to Kaveh and Alhaitham. And Dehya and Candace, of course, don’t worry about them,” Nilou added quickly when she noticed Cyno’s concerned face. He nodded and started to eat, barely registering what he was stuffing his face with because his thoughts were still racing.

Then, he had an idea.

“You guys are Fatui.”

“Eh?” Aether and Lumine interrupted their chat to look at him with wide eyes.

“You have lived here all your life, right? You know how the Fatui work, you are one of them.”

“We are not—” Lumine blew up her cheeks in exasperation before she exhaled a calming breath. “I don’t like to say I’m one of them. I think the Hunger Games are an awful invention.”

“And yet you are a part of them with your styling work,” he said it without judgment because he knew Lumine and Aether were good people. He trusted his instincts. But like ever so often, the person opposite him seemed to feel attacked. Lumine huffed and stuffed her face with more food, whereas Aether looked a little helpless.

Nilou cleared her throat: “What do you want to know, Cyno?”

“Jean told me about the card game the Fatui play. I want to learn it.”

“Oh, Genius Invokation TCG?” Aether curiously leaned over the table. “It has gotten really popular since last year.”

“Yes. Jean said the tributes get special cards. The winners, I mean.”

“Jean told you that?” Aether furrowed his brows and exchanged her look with his sister, who shook her head ever so slightly. She must still be annoyed with him but Cyno was unsure if he should give an apology because he hadn’t upset her intentionally. “I haven’t heard about that.”

“Oh. Well, are there normal cards, then? What do people use to play? Where do I get them?”

“You can buy them at almost any shop. I have quite a big collection, if you want I’ll show you how to build a deck,” Aether offered and then flinched when Lumine gave him a kick under the table. “He didn’t mean to insult us, Lumine. Don’t be a dick.”

“Tch,” Lumine got up from the table and mumbled an apology directed at no one before approaching the door. “I’ll be at the atelier, working on a few sketches. See you later.”

“I’m sorry,” Aether mumbled under his breath. “She just misses Jean.”

“She knew Jean?” Cyno wondered.

When Lumine opened the door, Tighnari appeared on the other side. They exchanged a quick nod and then the stylist was gone, leaving Tighnari on the threshold. He plopped down beside Cyno.

“I managed to send some food and water into the arena. They are at a good resting point right now, they should get a long enough break to regain their strength.”

“Thank you, Nari,” Cyno’s nose twitched as he inhaled Tighnari’s fresh scent. Before he engaged with the sponsors, Tighnari always made sure he was presentable. Not that he ever was not but he wore his long hair open and combed it over the scarred mass that was his human ears and he brushed his tail until it was shiny, showing off all the features he despised to reveal to anyone. Cyno knew it was a method to get the maximum of sponsoring but it still hurt to see. He loved Tighnari in his big sleeping shirts and with tousled hair.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tighnari smiled at him and Cyno’s stomach fluttered. The feeling was new and as exciting as it was worrying. Cyno didn’t react to other people like that; the nervousness was almost akin to the adrenaline he felt during fights. Only it was much, much softer. It had been a long time since Cyno had allowed something soft into his heart.

“We were just talking about TCG! Cyno wants to learn it, have you ever played it?” Aether asked.

“Are you serious?” the smile dropped from Tighnari’s face. “Are you asking me if I’d play that humiliating, sick game?”

“Uh—sorry, I didn’t—” Aether didn’t expect for him to react harshly but Cyno realized with an ounce of salt that this was typical for Tighnari by now. His mood was a coiled spring and any false movement could set it off. He knew it was because of the circ*mstances but he also wasn’t good enough at conversation to get his points across to prevent it from happening, leaving him often as a bystander.

“Forget it. Why are you wanting to play that game, anyway?” Tighnari directed his next question at Cyno, ears flicking like they only did when he was annoyed. “Don’t we have more important stuff to do?”

“I think it has something to do with Jean going missing.”

“What?” Tighnari gave him a look of incomprehension.

“I snuck into her suite and when I was there, someone else entered and stole one of the gaming cards out of a vent.”

“You what?!” the other three yelled in shock.

Cyno used their surprise to recount the events; he would have preferred to only tell Tighnari because although he wanted to, he wasn’t sure if Nilou and Aether were fully trustworthy, considering their Fatui background. But as he spoke, Nilou wrung her hands in distress and Aether completely forgot to blink or close his mouth, so they most likely were genuine in their reaction.

“…so, in conclusion, I think we should investigate this further. The card game might be an easy way to engage with the Fatui possibly wrapped up in this. If we can identify the servant, then—”

“No,” Tighnari cut him off, slamming both hands onto the table. “Absolutely not.”

“Nari?”

“Have you lost your damn mind?! If they find out about this, we are all dead!”

“No one saw me. I can be discreet. Patrolling was my job back home. The card is a valid lead. Don’t you want to know how to find Jean?”

“Are you this blind?! They killed her, Cyno! She’s gone!”

Nilou pressed a hand to her mouth, lashes sprinkling wetness onto her cheeks. Aether buried his face in his hands. They both seemed convinced Tighnari was right. Cyno turned toward him on his seat but District 12’s mentor had already gotten off his chair and was pacing up and down.

“If you really believe that then we have all the more reason to investigate.”

“No, we don’t! Whatever Kaeya wanted to say, they thought it was compromising the Tsaritsa so they blew him up! And then they sent Dottore after us because they think Kaveh’s alliance with Kaeya means he must know something about it! We are already on their radar and your solo mission doesn’t help! Just—stop meddling with things you know nothing about! Is that too much to ask?!”

Tighnari didn’t wait for a response but rushed into his room, slamming the door. Aether groaned and slumped onto the table. Nilou brushed her red hair back with shaky hands. Cyno averted his gaze. Tighnari might not know how to physically fight but his words always cut like a serrated knife. His stomach twisted, unsure if to settle on shame or anger.

“He’s right, Cyno,” Aether finally said. “Don’t engage with the Fatui in any way. You’re not going to win that fight.”

“Are you all fine with doing nothing?”

“We just want you to be safe,” Nilou whispered.

“None of the districts will ever be safe. We don’t have that luxury,” Cyno pointed out and pushed his chair back before getting up. “I’ll go talk to him. Please keep an eye on the TV and call us if the others wake up.”

He found Tighnari sitting on the bed, Collei’s picture cradled in his palms. He had put it in the frame despite the missing glass and followed the cut line in it with his thumb. There was no doubt he heard Cyno coming in because his fox ears turned toward him but he made no other move to acknowledge him. Cyno carefully closed the door and approached the window instead of the bed.

Outside, Snezhnaya sparkled in blinding white and winter sun.

“I told you about my past because I wanted to be close to you. Not for you to treat me like a child.”

“I’m not—”

“This is the second time you berate me in front of other people. I’m not stupid,” Cyno tilted his head to look at him, eyes shadowed with a gaze matching the sharpness in his voice. “We might have an alliance but if you want a friendship or—or more, then you can’t ever do that again.”

“Cyno,” Tighnari’s hazy eyes suddenly became clear as if he was seeing Cyno for the first time today. Ever since after their kiss, his first kiss, it had been like this. He had slowly gotten used to being pushed aside and talked over, trusting Tighnari knew how to navigate the mentoring space of the Hunger Games but the resentment had built and now it was overflowing.

“You don’t notice, I think. Because you are under a lot of stress but we all are. And yet, we are trying to make it work by being there for each other. If you think my plan is reckless, fine. We can have a discussion about it. But I won’t follow your orders blindly like I’m your servant.”

Tighnari looked like Cyno had punched him in the face. He put down Collei’s picture and got up, approaching him slowly as if he feared Cyno would run off at any moment.

“I’m sorry,” he pushed the words from his tongue like a stone. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“That’s not enough,” Cyno crossed his arms in front of his chest, a pathetic attempt to soothe his hammering heartbeat. Like always when Tighnari was this close, his body couldn’t be trusted. His instincts became hazy and needy but he refused to entertain them. Tighnari’s tail swished to his front and he buried his nervous fingers inside while dodging Cyno’s unforgiving gaze.

“I can’t do this, Cyno. I want to, believe me. Dottore is a monster, don’t you think I know that? I feel it in my bones whenever I’m in the same room as him. He scares me, he and the power he holds—I know that he toys with us and I’m helpless, I’m fifteen again, vulnerable in that hospital bed while he uses me like a puppet, sewing on parts that will never be me, making me into what I am now. We cannot fight him. We can win the Hunger Games but not this game.”

“He’s not a monster. He’s a man. All men can be killed.”

“And then what?” Tighnari forced a bleak, lifeless laugh. “You run your spear through him and before you’ll pull it out, you’ll be dead. They will replace him with another, crueller entity. They will punish us through the games, make them harder, more brutal, they will deny the districts resources, anything—we can’t go there.”

“You told me the system is rotten,” Cyno insisted. “If we root out the source of it then—”

“You are talking about killing a God.”

“I’m talking about revolution.”

“Revolutions require blood, Cyno. And we have no more to spill.”

“That’s not true,” Cyno reached for the hands buried in Tighnari’s tail, his first time touching the black fur. Tighnari didn’t pull away but remained frozen in place. “I think there’s too much blood that could be spilled and that’s why you are hesitating.”

Tighnari cast his face to the side, his body following. Cyno wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in despite better judgment. The discussion was already hard enough, he yearned for a taste of sweetness. Tighnari’s back softly bumped into his chest and the other put his hands on top of his arms, keeping him there. His tail was wedged between them but they both ignored it.

“Every year I come here to mentor the tributes, I fear that when I return, Collei will be gone. I stole her. She was property of the Fatui, property of Dottore, one of his research subjects. I demanded her freedom, I used that one favor a victor might get if the Tsaritsa feels generous enough. At this year’s Reaping, her name was called. And you can bet next year, her name will be called again. Nothing here is a coincidence, Cyno. They always know. But this—this they can’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“That I’m falling for you,” Tighnari whispered and Cyno hugged him firmer, heart wild. “That I keep thinking about our kiss, wondering if we can do it again before the games tear us apart because I know they will. And yet I’m here, and I’m aching for it to happen, to just give in and lose control but I can’t—I need to push you away and berate you and protect you. They cut Collei’s picture, what if they cut through you next?”

Once more, Tighnari’s words knew how to hit their mark, to create that feeling in his gut that was so unlike everything he had ever felt. His hands grabbed him, keeping him wrapped in their hug, fingers digging into his sides and Tighnari tilted his head enough for their eyes to meet.

The flaring heat inside Cyno amplified into a fiery rush when their gazes brushed and he understood then, what Tighnari meant with aching because his nerves prickled and his heart throbbed and being apart might as well be a form of torture.

“Let them come. They don’t know what they taught us to do. I won’t make it easy for them.”

“Not now. Not like this,” they were having two conversations at once, about bearing arms and surrendering, a push and a pull, and they both started to sway in their resolve. “Not during the games. It’s too dangerous.”

“If we find the servant, I can—”

“I’m not saying this because I think you are stupid—I’m just worried that if we get caught, our friends in the arena will pay for it. After the games, Cyno, and I’ll follow you, wherever you wanna take this.”

“Even if it means spilling blood?”

“Yes,” Tighnari turned around in his arms to face him but when Cyno eased the grip on his waist, the other’s hands clawed into his forearms to keep him there. “Even then.”

“Okay,” Tighnari’s eyes were emerald lakes and Cyno was tempted to lean forward and drown in them but he knew the unsaid part of their conversation was still present, lingering on heated skin in warning. “We’ll wait.”

“Yes. We wait,” every syllable was a little burst of flame against Cyno’s mouth. Tighnari’s warmth flooded his veins like liquid gold. He tried to look away but found it impossible to move, to even blink. Tighnari hands still kept Cyno’s arms in place. Then his fingers moved over the flexed tendons and the little hairs, up until Tighnari’s hands framed his shoulders, his neck, his nape.

“Nari,” Cyno kept his voice level but his heart was betraying him with its frantic rhythm. He bit back a question because Tighnari was right, they shouldn’t go there. It was wiser to keep their distance so everyone on their team could be safe. But at the same time, whatever Tighnari was doing to him, it was addicting. He had never thought about it before, had never had the urge to touch someone like this, never wanted to kiss and consume and touch and devour.

He knew Tighnari had more experience than him from what he had let on. But right now, the other looked as entranced as Cyno, with a gleam in his eyes and a blush on his cheeks. His ears flicked every other second and his tail was wagging softly in their embrace. He didn’t even seem to notice, too engrossed in staring at Cyno’s mouth that suddenly felt terribly dry.

Their noses brushed against each other, heads tilting but lips patiently waiting, slightly parted as their breaths mingled. The little touch was enough to spark electricity down Cyno’s spine. He shook his head, causing the tips of their noses to brush against each other and the tension broke with a startled but beautiful laugh from Tighnari.

“What are you doing?” he giggled and pulled away enough to look at him. Cyno chased after him, nuzzling their noses together. The need to kiss him was so strong, he had to put a hand between their faces, dragging his thumb over Tighnari’s lower lip, the gesture so intimate, Tighnari’s laugh melted into a soft gasp.

“Waiting,” Cyno smiled.

“You’re the worst,” Tighnari rolled his eyes and slung his arms around Cyno’s waist to pull him closer. They squeezed each other softly and Cyno hid his nose in Tighnari’s long, pretty hair, inhaling his crisp scent. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I care about you, Cyno. You didn’t deserve that. I’ll do better.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that?”

“I trust you,” Cyno said with a shrug and Tighnari’s mouth fell open in surprise. They broke their hug and looked at each other; whatever he had said must have startled Tighnari—but for Cyno, it felt natural. He did trust Tighnari. He trusted him enough to form an alliance and confide his past to him and to give him his first kiss.

He trusted him enough to wait.

Chapter 20: out of luck

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWENTY - OUT OF LUCK

"I think it’s different in the moment.

When your survival instinct kicks in and you just move on your own.

It has to be." - Candace

“Alright, let me explain. Kaveh?”

Kaveh grabbed a loose stone near the cliffside and dragged it over the yellow stone, creating faint lines. Dehya and Candace sat across from them, munching on the fatteh and water Tighnari had sent them via a sponsor package about an hour ago.

They all had managed to sleep a few hours, though since Alhaitham and Kaveh had figured out the arena, the blond felt wired, unable to calm down. He tried to bring up patience as he sketched a big square and then divided it into nine smaller squares. A gameboard.

“We can assume the arena is a giant square consisting of nine other squares,” Alhaitham waited for Kaveh to finish the outline and then pointed at the mid square. “This is where the Cornucopia is.”

Kaveh etched a C into the square.

“This is where we are, currently,” Alhaitham pointed to the square left of the Cornucopia and Kaveh marked it with an X. “When we started, all squares had the same terrain.”

“The same element, if you will,” Kaveh chimed in and Alhaitham nodded.

“Yes, every square consisted of the Geo element, making the arena look like a giant stone desert. Though actually, what looked like a vast desert was divided into sections,” Alhaitham pointed out the carved lines separating the squares again. “Why do we know that? Because we find the same landmarks every other square.”

When Kaveh caught Dehya’s confused expression, he added: “This mountain we are sitting on also exists in the Geo square north from us. The whole thing is identical.”

“We can assume the lines are not blurred but very strictly upheld,” Alhaitham continued and Kaveh’s stomach gave a weak flutter as they bounced their thoughts off each other without effort, a glimpse of home under it all. Of puzzles and arguments and minds in sync. “Again, why do we know this? Because when the three of us stepped out of the jungle and into the stone desert, we noticed the leaves being cut down the middle by an invisible barrier.”

“Like the force field surrounding Snezhnaya as a whole,” Kaveh gestured excitedly. “It functions as a giant globe to protect Snezhnaya from the weather but people, birds and sunlight still travel through. So we can assume, a force field can keep particular elements out or in, while still allowing tributes to cross without harm.”

“I see,” Candace nodded, a focused expression on her otherwise soft features. Dehya held the fried flatbread under her nose to urge her to eat while munching on her own portion of fatteh. “This way, they contain the mutations to their squares as well. Jungle creatures stay in their element instead of running wild in the arena.”

“Yes,” Alhaitham tapped in the middle of Kaveh’s sketch again. “Let’s talk about how the arena decides which biome it changes to. It’s not a cycle. Nor is it a hidden lever in any of the squares or another mechanic. It’s us.”

“Us?”

“When we entered the games, they gave us a tracker. Standard Hunger Games procedure. But there was something different about it this year.”

“It’s in the neck, not in the arm,” Dehya immediately said, hand darting up to her own neck.

“Correct,” Alhaitham turned to Kaveh and the blond scooted around for the girls to be able to see his nape before he brushed aside his hair and revealed the inserted tracker. “Kaveh’s tracker is yellow. Like the stone desert from the beginning. Like the color associated most with the Geo element. Whereas mine…” Alhaitham revealed the tracker in his nape to them. The round patch shimmered green through the skin. “…is green. Associated with the Dendro element.”

“Wait, are you saying—” Candace gasped. She pulled Dehya’s hand away and brushed aside her dark lion’s mane. “Dehya’s is yellow too! Check mine!”

“White,” Dehya said after a thorough look. “Wait, white? Cryo?”

“Anemo,” Alhaitham corrected her. “We don’t think Cryo is part of the games.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because the Tsaritsa is the Archon of Love as much as she is the Archon of Cryo,” Kaveh’s heart started to thump heavily in his chest as he spoke. He knew he was right in his theory, he had to be, but he was scared what saying it out loud would entail. Kaeya’s soft smile before it dripped in red was scorched onto the back of his eyelids too violently. “She alone has the power over the element. It is something that Snezhnayans find comfort in. There’s no place for it here in the arena. On an another hand, all seven elements throw off the balance.”

“What balance?” Dehya asked.

“Let’s circle back to what I said at the beginning when I mentioned we trigger the biome changes. Or rather, our deaths,” Alhaitham was explaining it all so calmly yet neither of them were able to look away. Kaveh wondered if the rest of the people clung to his lips like this, if they were the first group to figure out the mechanics of the arena. “If a person with a green tracker dies, the terrain changes to the Dendro-infused jungle we have already seen. If a person with a blue tracker dies, the Hydro element will take over the square they died in. The Hunger Games are made up of 24 tributes. If Cryo isn’t a part of the game, that leaves six elements to be distributed. Four tributes per element.”

“Do you think there is a system behind it?” Candace asked. “Or is it randomly assigned?”

“Both are possible. At first, I thought it might be connected to our scores received by the Harbingers. Kaveh scored a 12 and was assigned the Geo element by his tracker. He is a high threat and people will be either scared to engage with him in combat or try to target him specifically. Assuming his high score, there is a brutal fight to be expected. If he were to die and the element attached to him was Pyro, there is a high chance his opponent would die as well, diminishing the accomplishment.”

“But Kaeya was also one of those with the highest scores. He was a District 1 tribute! And he had the Pyro element triggered upon his death,” Candace said. “So it might indeed be random.”

“Perhaps,” Alhaitham mused, though his eyes drifted to Kaveh. They exchanged a long look.

They has whispered their theories when the girls had been sleeping. And while Alhaitham’s voice pouring into Kaveh’s ear had more been a purr than anything else, they both silently had hoped for the microphones to not pick it up. Alhaitham was convinced it was not random, at least when it came to Kaveh. The Geo element meant killing someone was safe, no one had to fear to drown or go up in flames upon the murder. Just another tactic by Dottore to lure the violence to Kaveh after the blond had disrespected him.

“So the new Hydro area that spawned south from us—it means a tribute with a Hydro-infused tracker died there,” Dehya concluded. She stood up, hands on her hips, and oversaw their surroundings with furrowed brows.

“Layla, District 11.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“Use your brain, Dehya,” Kaveh had to hide a giggle in his palm when Dehya’s jaw dropped over Alhaitham’s rudeness. But she had never witnessed Alhaitham in all his insufferable, know-it-all glory. Her expression was priceless. Alhaitham didn’t even notice, he continued on without taking a breath. “Yesterday, the boy from District 2 died and created the Dendro biome. Then Changchang, who, as Kaveh told us, died at the Cornucopia. Most likely carrying an Anemo-infused tracker because after her death, the area around the Cornucopia got visited by a cold but steady breeze. Leaving Layla, the last death during that day. Obviously Hydro. There. Process of elimination.”

“This doesn’t explain why during the first day when all those people died at the Cornucopia, the square only changed once to Hydro.”

“But it does,” Alhaitham insisted, pointing back at the sketched arena. “We discussed this already. The changes are the highlights of the Hunger Games. Too quick, and the audience doesn’t even notice them. Too sudden, and the tributes would die before getting a chance to react. The first deaths happened rapidly, overwriting the tracker effects before one could get in motion. Remember how slow the biome change to Hydro was? Mountains had to split, chasms had to appear. It takes time.”

“Not for Kaeya, though,” Kaveh said, the words grazing his throat like sandpaper. “He was—I mean, it w-was quick. Instantly.”

“Kaeya is the odd one out, yes,” Alhaitham muttered. “It could be the Pyro element in general, having this explosive force behind it. Or something else we are missing.”

Something else being Kaeya’s last words. A line the Harbingers hadn’t wanted to be crossed. Kaeya’s mistake, Kaveh’s mistake. The blond clawed into his own legs to level his breathing, anxiety thick and cold in his veins. If he hadn’t asked, if he had played along then Kaeya might have lived—

Don’t forget where you are, a detached voice echoed in his head, there was no scenario in which Kaeya would have lived. Not if you want to get Alhaitham home.

“Either way, we should assume the Pyro biome triggers instantly, meaning we shouldn’t kill someone if we don’t know the colour of their tracker,” Alhaitham concluded his speech and sat back on his legs. “Unless, of course, we are at the edge of a biome with a quick chance to escape the fire. Do you remember any of the tracker colours of the Treasure Hoarders, Kaveh?”

“No. I didn’t look for them,” he admitted, ears tinted red. It felt like a cruel oversight on his part.

“That’s alright.”

“We haven't encountered Electro yet. Chances are high, one of them carries an Electro-infused tracker since we don’t. And there are—how many people left?” Candace wondered.

“Four of us. Four Treasure Hoarders. Albedo from District 2. The kids from District 3. The kids from District 5. Both tributes of District 8,” Alhaitham counted out loud before flexing his fingers, curling them. “That means our next goal is clear.”

“Oh?” Dehya arched her brow.

“We kill the Treasure Hoarders.”

“What?” Candace and Kaveh gasped.

Again, his heart seemed to skip a beat. Kaveh thought of Mika, readying his crossbow to take a shot at him, his aim thwarted by grief. He understood him, knew that the teenager would kill him the next chance he got but he also knew that he would never be able to do the same. Not when he, deep down, thought he deserved it.

“Now is the perfect time. They lost a strong fighter. It’s four of them against four of us. We are well rested and nourished thanks to the sponsors and our mentors, and we didn’t get injured during our escape. They, however, might have taken some hits. So, I say we bring the fight to them. After that, we replenish our supplies at the Cornucopia, gain some rest in its defenses and move on to the others.”

“A solid plan,” Dehya raised her fists, bumping them together with a feral smirk. “I’m in.”

“I guess this is how it has to go,” Candace mumbled and absentmindedly rubbed over her injured shoulder. There was a fresh bandage on it and the salve Alhaitham had provided seemed to have helped, at least she hadn’t complained about any pain.

Alhaitham was right, Kaveh thought numbly, it was the perfect moment to strike.

“We should check out the current terrain around the Cornucopia before we advance,” he muttered and rose to his feet before the others could stop him. Leaving his mace behind and every other equipment that would slow him down, Kaveh started to climb up further. The mountain wasn’t that steep but offered a small path coiling around it like a snake up to the peak. He pressed himself close to the rock and avoided looking down until he reached another ledge broad enough to sit on.

The Cornucopia glittered in the sun in all its metallic glory. From his position he would have been able to see it even if it were still wrapped in deep vegetation. But the jungle was gone, as was the fire and ash. The Hydro biome was back, a large body of water interrupted by little islands without much cover. From up here, the designated square of the game board became even more obvious. It functioned like a tub full of dark, quiet waters with clean edges, almost unnatural.

“Hydro again,” Candace had followed him up the path and sat down beside him, slightly out of breath. “Well, there goes our plan.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dehya and I can’t swim. There are no bodies of water large enough or accessible in District 10 for us to ever learn. What about you?”

“I can swim but I’d rather not,” Kaveh paused to think. Tighnari had taught Collei and him how to swim during one of their trips through District 12’s jungle, though it had been in a small lake and they both had been able to stand in it. He would call it doggy paddling rather than swimming, if anything. “I don’t think Haitham can either. Plus, approaching this biome is like wearing a neon sign on our chest and asking the Treasure Hoarders to shoot us. There’s no cover at all.”

“We could let them come to us,” Candace mused. “We have the high ground.”

“But no ranged weapons.”

“Anything is a ranged weapon if you throw it hard enough.”

Kaveh laughed, the sound still muted and dimmed by the past events but enough for Candace to join in with a flustered giggle. She softly bumped her healthy shoulder against his and together they observed the Cornucopia, legs swinging off the ledge. In the middle of the structure, someone was keeping watch but they were too far away for Kaveh to make out. The Treasure Hoarders hadn’t moved and with the water now around them, created by Thoma’s death most likely, they would probably stay in place.

“It sounds weird but I would feel better if they were chasing us down,” Candace said, averting her gaze to her knees. “Then it would be self-defense not—well…”

“Murder.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever…?”

“No. You?”

“No. I mean, not—” he thought of Kaeya’s mouth against his ear, whispering his own death sentence. Thought about turning back in time and covering that smirk before it could part for disaster. Thought about running away, betraying them but even in his thoughts his feet wouldn’t move as they were sprinkled with gore and blood. “I’m not sure I could.”

“I think it’s different in the moment. When your survival instinct kicks in and you just move on your own. It has to be,” she spoke like she wanted to believe it and so Kaveh didn’t argue. She put a hand on his and squeezed it gently, forcing a smile. “I’m glad you’re with us now. Haitham was so worried about you.”

“I’m glad too,” Kaveh swallowed around the lump in his throat. They shared a hug and he wished for the stone beneath them to crumble into dust, sending them toward the inevitable. Instead, he was making the same mistake again. Getting attached, latching onto a friendly smile and a gentle soul.

They all were so very gentle in this arena. He didn’t want to encounter the moment that would change.

A few pebbles scattered down the cliff in their back, hitting Candace on her bandaged shoulder. She flinched in pain. They both looked up when another rain of rubble pattered onto them.

“What—”

The peak of the mountain was sharp and unnatural, one of the many landmarks present in every Geo square as Kaveh had pointed out before. But now it was transforming. The ragged cliff melted into a snout-like form before a face made of stone followed. As if the mountain was made of clay it created a mutation out of its own substance.

It looked like a wolf made of rock with rough fangs and unseeing eyes. Its rocky claws caused more rubble to fall down as they were slashed against the mountain. The hound growled, locking them both in its sight.

“sh*t,” Kaveh lifted his hands, unsure what to do. The gesture caused the mutation to open its maw for another guttural growl, this time loud enough to carry down to Dehya and Alhaitham.

Candace swallowed hard and approached the path they had come from with bated breath. The movement was enough to trigger the mutation’s hunting instinct. It lunged at them both and Kaveh pushed Candace away at the last moment before he himself lost balance.

He desperately reached out for the cliffside, grazing open his palms against the rock but managed to slow down his descent enough to not end as pulp on the ground. Instead, his body was jostled over small ledges he slipped off from. He cut his cheek on a sharp stone, leaving behind a trail of blood the mutation immediately whiffed out; the creature chased after him, pouncing from ledge to ledge and causing rockfall with its sheer power. It must be the size of a bear but it weighed a lot more, its body all dense rock.

“KAVEH!”

Kaveh landed on the small plateau of another ledge, the impact pressing all the air out of his lungs. He heard his friends screaming and the beast growling when at the top of the mountain, another rock came off, transforming into a second hound.

“We need to get down!” Dehya shouted, blank terror in her voice.

“Kaveh!” Alhaitham appeared in his periphery. He clawed into the mountainside and swung himself onto the ledge as if he had done nothing else all his life. His eyes were wide and focused, zeroed in on his pathetic form on the ground. He was at Kaveh’s side in two quick strides when the mutation landed next to him.

The rock-like claw took a swipe and Alhaitham blocked it with his machete. The mutation cut straight through the blade, tearing it in two.

Alhaitham stumbled, cursing as he threw the now useless heft of the weapon at the creature before reaching out for Kaveh. The hound took another jump and when it landed on the ledge, a terrible, dark crumbling sound echoed off their feet.

“Hold onto me!” Alhaitham barely finished his command before the ledge broke off and they were falling. They both covered their heads, curling into each other as they rolled down the rest of the cliffside. Gravel grazed their skin and the rubble made it impossible to find purchase.

Alhaitham landed on top of him, pushing them into the dirt at the foot of the mountain. Kaveh’s hands darted out, brushing over Alhaitham’s face but he seemed unharmed. They both were, apart from a few scrapes and bruises.

Their gazes met, pupils still blown black with shock and adrenaline and Kaveh had the overwhelming urge to kiss him when—

“What are you doing?! Get up! They’re coming!” Dehya screamed. The girls had quickly climbed down the mountain path, loaded with all their supplies. Alhaitham got to his feet and they distributed their backpacks and weapons while the creatures tried to catch up to them. Kaveh hesitated when Dehya handed him the mace but before he could protest, Alhaitham took it out of his hand.

“Do you mind? My machete broke.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” Kaveh stammered. Despite giving up a weapon he felt safer knowing Alhaitham was wielding it. A queasy feeling stirred in his stomach when he thought about Alhaitham’s fist connecting to Thoma’s scared, desperate face.

“Run!” Candace yanked him by the elbow and they stumbled into a quick sprint as the two hound mutations landed on the ground. The creatures threw back their heads and howled, the sound like gravel pattering down on them and loud enough to be heard in the whole arena. Kaveh and Candace took over the helm, whereas Dehya with her club and Alhaitham with the mace stayed in the back. Together, they soared over the rubble, the drumming strides of the mutations on their heels.

They were approaching the Hydro biome south from them, away from the Cornucopia. But they weren’t the only ones. To their left, another group of tributes was sprinting across the plains, away from a much smaller mountain. A mountain that also had given birth to the horrifying hound mutation and was chasing after them with dark snarls and greedy fangs.

Kaveh knew they most likely wouldn’t be a threat because right now, everyone was focused on their own survival but he almost tripped anyway when he spotted the person sprinting ahead.

It was little Sayu.

“Sayu!” he called out, wasting precious breath.

The 11-year-old’s head moved in his direction and a flicker of recognition went through her before she started sprinting toward them, yelling at her companions to follow. Kaveh had expected her to be together with Shinobu but it was the two boys from District 3, Razor and Bennett, who were a part of her group. Bennett was stumbling every other step, his face a mask of sheer panic.

“We can’t slow down for them,” Alhaitham warned, voice a strained growl.

“We don’t need to, they are fast, it’ll be okay!” Kaveh shouted back and Candace directed them to the side so they were running toward each other before the blond pointed at the biome ahead of them. “To the water! Let’s hope the Hydro square stops them!”

“Good idea!” Sayu yelled at him with a brilliant smile despite the situation. Up this close he saw the paint on her face; probably acquired by sponsors and made from dirt and berries, she had covered her face and her arms to blend in with the yellow stone desert. Sadly, her camouflage wasn’t enough to distract the monsters.

With their groups now merged, three rockhounds were on their tail but the Hydro biome was close, probably another 200m sprint away. Next to him, Candace was gasping for air, spit on her lips. Kaveh grabbed her by the wrist, tugging her along without mercy. She picked up speed, a determined expression on her face. They were almost there.

“Ah—sh*t, no!” Bennett lost balance on the rubble and crashed to the ground. The hounds closed their distance rapidly, stone fangs glittering black and deathly in the sunlight.

“Bennett!” Razor and Sayu faltered in their escape. Kaveh wanted to turn around but Alhaitham’s flat palm landed between his shoulder blades, pushing him forward before doing the same to Candace.

“No, please help him!” Razor howled. The teenager was carrying nothing but a dagger but he looked steady in his resolve, about to lunge at the creatures when Dehya yanked him back by the collar and grabbed her bat with both hands.

“Stay back, kiddo!” she swung the metal club, aiming for the hound closest to poor Bennett. The steel connected with the mutation’s head and the stone splintered, its snout crumbling like the mountains before. Dehya let out a triumphant scream and Bennett fought himself to his feet with gasping gratitude when suddenly more rubble lifted off the ground and attached itself to the deformed snout, fixing the creature’s head.

“f*cking hell,” Dehya whispered, feet rooted to the ground in shock. Alhaitham whirled around, mace in both hands, and hit the hound’s snout again but it was no use. And now the other two had caught up as well. “Run, just f*cking run!”

“To the next square!” Alhaitham yelled.

“Come on, Bennett!” Sayu shouted, still in the lead despite her short legs, Kaveh right behind her. Dehya tried to fend the mutations off another time but when her club didn’t do any damage, she abandoned the plan.

And then they were all running. Kaveh took over the helm, sprinting as fast as he could, Sayu running in the slipstream.

Kaveh dared to look away from the uneven ground to steal a glimpse at the finish line - the Hydro biome waiting for them with its many islands, though the outskirts described a big enough plateau for all of them to flee to. Only it was occupied.

A blond tribute was kneeling on top, looking at them with blank eyes.

Albedo, District 2.

He wasn’t carrying a weapon, only had a backpack on his back but his calm expression, devoid of any fear despite the tributes and mutations charging at him, created a feeling of unease in Kaveh’s gut. He wavered in his sprint, unsure if he wanted to be the first one to join Albedo in the other biome but Alhaitham’s hand was there in the small of his back, pressing him onward without mercy.

Kaveh’s gaze flitted away from Albedo to find the quickest route. The rubble was tricky, had almost been Bennetts demise, and the many stones were an invitation to a broken ankle if one wasn’t careful. But there, where the square would end due to their arena theory, there was no rubble, no pebbles and only a lot of flat dirt.

The realization came too late.

Kaveh managed to shout out: “Jump!” and leaped over the last meters of the Geo square, landing on the plateau in front of the waters unscathed. But the kids didn’t react that quickly and Sayu couldn’t jump that far.

It was once again Bennett, who tripped first. Instead of stepping onto solid ground, he planted his foot on the yellow-brown tarp placed by Albedo. The material gave in and revealed a pitfall trap, steep enough to send the young tribute flying with a scream.

Razor, trying to cover his back, followed with a yelp. His hands darted out to the edge but slipped. Sayu desperately attempted to make the jump, her arms flailing. For a moment, it seemed like she was levitating, then she was pulled into the pit by gravity.

Candace and Kaveh surged forward, grabbing her by the shirt and pulling her over the invisible barrier dividing the squares. They fell onto the plateau with choked groans. Sayu clung onto Kaveh, fear in her big eyes.

“Please, we need to help them! I have a rope!” before she and Kaveh could even unfurl it, Dehya and Alhaitham yanked it out of their hands and threw it down the pitfall trap. The seconds dragged out, every breath like a knife slicing Kaveh’s throat. The hounds were rapidly approaching. The rope was sent down. Alhaitham leaned into it to balance out the weight whereas Dehya grabbed her club and got in position to defend the boys against the mutations.

Razor’s messy hair appeared over the rim. He fought himself out of the hole with gritted teeth and red cheeks before immediately turning around and assisting Alhaitham. Together they threw themselves into the rope.

“Bennett!” Razor screamed. “Bennett, you need to climb!”

“My arm—ah, I can’t—” the panicked voice from inside the trap was close to breaking. Cold fear gripped them all tight when the first hound leaped forward. Dehya slammed her club into his head and broke the snout in two. She pivoted on her heels to use her momentum and attack the second one but it dove right under her arm and into the hole.

A blood-curdling scream filled the arena.

Alhaitham and Razor fell over when the weight on the rope shifted and Bennett appeared at the edge. Kaveh lunged forward and caught onto the rope, pulling with all his strength, Sayu tugging on his waist as he did so.

When they managed to hoist Bennett out of the hole, he was missing his left leg. The hound had bitten it off right above the knee. Bennett’s eyes were pitchblack but his lips were dangerously pale. His lashes fluttered and his grip around the rope threatened to slip.

Alhaitham was there in an instant, grabbing him by the forearm and dragging the teenager over the line between the biome square with spite-driven tenacity. Bennett looked like he was about to faint when he was tugged by his injured arm.

The mutation climbed up the pitfall trap, its maw opening once more. Dehya aimed for its head but the third hound had finally arrived and barrelled into her, knocking her off her feet. The other hound lunged at Bennett once more. This time, its fangs sank into his torso, ripping him clean in two.

The cannon shot came instantly.

A scant comfort—the weight on the rope vanished into nothing and Kaveh dropped the rope. Merely Alhaitham was still on the ground, holding onto Bennett’s arm, fingers and mind locked in shock.

The teenager’s head lolled to the side at an unnatural angle. Kaveh’s heart might stop.

“He has a Pyro tracker!” he yelled and yanked Alhaitham back so harshly, the other crashed into him, though he had the sense to drop Bennett’s body on the other side. Dehya cursed and lunged over the pit and into the safe biome straight into Candace’s arms.

“Bennett! No, Bennett—!” Razor’s voice splintered into a heart-wrenching howl and he scrambled onto all fours. He desperately tried to catch up to Bennett’s falling, lifeless body, not caring about the mutations or the warning. He probably didn’t know the rules of the arena. All he saw was his friend.

“Razor, wait!” Kaveh pushed Alhaitham off and tried to reach Razor’s shirt but Alhaitham knocked his shoulder into him and pinned him to the ground, one hand pressing down on Kaveh’s heaving chest.

“No,” Alhaitham growled and curled the fingers of his other hand around Kaveh’s jaw, forcing their eyes to stay locked. Tears shot into Kaveh’s eyes but he didn’t fight him. He looked up at him and him only, counting the tears hanging in Alhaitham’s lashes as they listened to Razor’s gruesome end.

They didn’t see how Razor jumped into the Geo biome to reach his friend. They didn’t see how the teenager managed to grab the lifeless hand the moment the arena started its cruel game. They didn’t see how the Pyro took immediate effect and blasted Razor and the mutations into pieces.

Kaveh didn’t have to see it because he had seen it once before. Kaeya, going up in flames. An inferno raining down on them. A tsunami of fire erupting from nothing and ravaging everything in its path.

Nothing made it into the Hydro biome, not even the heat permeating the air. The force field separating the squares made sure of it. Alhaitham was surrounded by an orange glow, flickering and throwing back the silver sheen of his hair as he kept crouching over Kaveh. The strong grip of his hand had long subsided. Kaveh laced their fingers together, squeezing softly before clamping his eyes shut.

The second cannon shot sounded far away as if he was listening to it from another room.

Alhaitham sat up, shaking all over and Kaveh crawled into his lap. He slung his arms around his shoulders and buried his face in his broad neck, feeling his pulse, heavy, aching and lost.

When Alhaitham’s breathing came even again, Kaveh dared a glimpse. The former Geo biome was alight. Fire scoured the stone desert despite nothing being flammable. Yet rocks melted and the mutations followed. Only Razor’s body was burning cruelly slow as if the flames had been given the command to feast on human flesh reluctantly, so the people at home had a show to enjoy.

Candace turned away, hand pressed to her mouth. Only Sayu stood at the plateau's edge, hands hanging uselessly by her side, staring into the hell unfolding. Dehya kneeled beside her, an arm around her shoulder. She didn’t react.

Kaveh took a look around. But Albedo was long gone.

Chapter 21: storm and steel

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - STORM AND STEEL

“Stay close to me tonight." - Haitham

Even though Tighnari had told Cyno not to look for the servant stealing the card from Jean’s room, he went against his own advice and decided to investigate on his own. He felt like he owed it to Cyno, especially after treating him so harshly the past days. The guilt chipped away at him. And pushing the other away so he was safe made him lose even more sleep. Tighnari wanted nothing more than to bury himself in whatever they were, fractures of broken hearts sticking together all wrong and yet it was all he could think about whenever the arena wasn’t on his mind.

So he had inquired. Carefully, weighing the words in his mouth like they were glass. He had approached Haypasia and his other familiar sponsors first and poked around, asking if they were avid Genius Invokation TCG players but almost all of them had declined and the one sponsor who had a deck, knew nothing apart from the basic rules.

Then he had turned to District 12’s servants. Inquired how the servants were assigned in the first place and if there was an overview. They were all too willing to answer his questions but had no valuable information. Servants were assigned a few weeks in advance and the staff didn’t rotate to provide excellent service for the districts. They weren’t allowed to converse with each other either, to prevent the exchange of tactics between the districts. So no, they didn’t know who had been Jean’s servants and oh, did that mean Tighnari wasn’t happy with their services anymore?

Tighnari knew he needed to be careful, couldn’t poke around like he wanted. So he didn’t dare ask about the Fatui most obsessed with the card game and ended his short but frustrating detective work in the evening already as he walked back into the Mentor Control Room.

Jean was still absent. Her empty spot in front of Mika’s screen caused a sawing pain in his chest. He wanted to believe she had gone home due to some family issues or other insignificant problems like the rest of the mentors had been told by a Fatui Guard this afternoon but deep down he knew she was most likely buried in Snezhnayan ice forever.

Her tribute was currently following his friends. Mika looked like a duckling, stumbling after the rest of the Treasure Hoarders. Tighnari noticed quite alarmed that all of them were decent swimmers and had been provided wet suits by their sponsors to move even easier in the Hydro biome of the Cornucopia.

Like Alhaitham and Kaveh, the Treasure Hoarders and Albedo from District 2 had figured out how the arena worked after last night. Tighnari walked to his own screens, passing Cyno and softly squeezing his hand as he did so. The screen mounted in the middle of the wall providing the bird’s view of the arena showed off the sections. Nine, as Alhaitham had said. The Cornucopia area still a Hydro biome. The one in the left corner, where Kaveh and the others currently were stranded, another Hydro biome.

The one where the Bennett boy had died had turned into a volatile thunderstorm after the Pyro area had been overridden by Razor’s death. The sky was purple, angry and growling, and lightning struck the vast land with the precision and lethality of a guillotine. Tighnari flinched whenever it impacted, splitting rocks and scorching dirt.

Although the arena was divided into multiple squares, it was on the smaller side. In fact, the tributes weren’t as far away from each other as they might think. The cunning Albedo had always been close to Alhaitham during his journey in the arena but kept his distance, plotting by using the environment to his advantage. Now he used the absence of the Treasure Hoarders to sneak closer to the Cornucopia and steal supplies while they were on the hunt.

Yelan, Tomo, Sara and Mika had abandoned the centre of the arena, exploring the Geo biome south of them. Someone else was prowling through the square - Kuki Shinobu. And, dangerously close to the Treasure Hoarders, both of Ningguang’s tributes: Chongyun and Xiangling.

Tighnari knew this was no coincidence. The hound mutations had only one purpose: to herd Kaveh and the others near a biome they weren’t experienced with, to push all the tributes into the same corner and see who attacked first. It worked like a charm. Tighnari had a feeling a blood-soaked night was ahead of them.

Their friends were still on the plateau they had saved themselves to, eating and drinking quietly. At least they could refill their water bottles. Sayu offered a few berries she had found in the jungle. Tighnari pinched the bridge of his nose. She would become a problem, one way or the other. Kaveh had barely been able to function after Kaeya’s death. This was going to be worse.

“We should get them something for the water,” Cyno approached him, whispering into his ear, voice so low it caused the soft fuzz in Tighnari’s neck to stand on end. “Neither of them can swim well, right?”

“Yeah. But that’s going to be expensive,” the more time passed, the more people died, the higher the costs of sponsoring gifts. But this year, they might be able to afford it. Kaveh had won so many Fatui hearts and Candace had gained approval during the games due to her gentle and soft nature, a welcome break for the people in between the fights.

“But it will tell them not to move into the Geo biome,” Cyno pointed at the square south of the Cornucopia, where the Treasure Hoarders were currently hunting. “If we send them something for the water, it will be a hidden message, a warning of what might awaits them elsewhere.”

“True, that could work,” Tighnari hummed. Clear instructions weren’t allowed and since they were already on the radar of the Harbingers, Tighnari didn’t want to leave a message at all. But Alhaitham would be smart enough to figure out their intentions if he sent down life vests.

But he also remembered Alhaitham’s words from earlier today: “We kill the Treasure Hoarders.”

“I’ll have to check District 12’s mora account. There’s something else I want them to have.”

“We can pitch together, right?”

“It’s unusual but not unheard of. Why, did you manage to get some sponsors?” he tried to keep his voice absent of any judgment to make clear he was asking out of genuine interest. Cyno had struggled so much with getting sponsors, they mostly had relied on Tighnari’s mora. Not that he minded. He just wanted to make sure Cyno understood Tighnari was on his side after he f*cked that up the past days, the guilt still looming over him like a withered tree.

“Yes. Aether helped me build my deck earlier and introduced me to a small group of players. They seemed to like me,” Cyno blinked expectantly, waiting for Tighnari’s anger to rise. But when nothing came and Tighnari cracked an encouraging smile, he added: “I mean, if that’s alright with you. I promise I won’t snoop around. I really just wanna connect with them for the mora. And I like playing cards with Aether.”

Tighnari, thinking about his own fruitless investigation, hurried to bestow his blessing. Cyno smiled in relief. A beautiful but rare sight that was eradicated all too soon because now the primary screen switched from bird’s view to the Treasure Hoarders. Yae and Xiao, with Jean’s absence the only mentors of those left, walked up to the front to listen in.

“Are we sure they are gonna be there?” Tomo asked, balancing two daggers on his knuckles as the small group walked through the stone desert.

“Oh, definitely,” Yelan said and pointed ahead. Even though she couldn’t spot Alhaitham and the others from the current angle, Tighnari’s stomach clenched with anxiety as she got the direction right. “We saw the flames - they will instinctively have fled to the Hydro biome and since they didn’t show up on our turf, they’ll most likely be in this one. So don’t worry, Mika. You’ll get your revenge.”

“Good. He’s mine,” a determined shadow had taken hold of Mika’s formerly innocent features. He was past the point of saving, another soul reaped by the arena. If he caught Kaveh in his sight, he wouldn’t hesitate. Tighnari started to nervously bounce on his feet.

“And Alhaitham is mine,” Yelan hissed.

“Aw, man. Only scraps for us again, Sara,” Tomo joked, earning an eye-roll from his ever-serious companion. He kicked a stray pebble away and scanned their surroundings. Tighnari knew behind the carefree demeanour lurked an observant fighter. And he was proven right in an instant when Tomo suddenly stopped in his tracks and grabbed Sara by the elbow. “We have visitors.”

Ningguang joined their small group in front of the screens when the camera caught her tributes Chongyun and Xiangling poorly covered by a rock formation. The girl froze in place as she and Tomo made eye contact across the plain.

“This is it then,” Ningguang sighed, her voice calm and level. She was holding a glass of wine, swirling it gently in her palm so the golden jewellery on her arm created a soft melody. She looked at Yae with a grim smile, lifting her glass for a cheer.

“May the best tribute win,” Yae answered with her signature purr.

“I’m sure they will,” Ningguang agreed. Her own display of wealth was revisited in the arena. Both Xiangling and Chongyun wielded extravagant weapons - a decorated spear and a blue-tinted claymore - which must have cost a fortune to get. Their bodies were covered by protective vests.

The camera panned from one party to the other. Whereas the teenagers of District 5 looked like spooked rabbits, Yelan and Sara almost nonchalantly reached for their bows. Tighnari turned away from the screen and pulled Cyno along.

“Let’s scrape together all the mora we have. This won’t be the last fight tonight.”

Razor’s death had caused a violent storm to brew. If he hadn’t figured out the mechanics of the arena before, now the square infused by Razor’s Electro-tracker left nothing to the imagination. The thunderstorm was circling in the middle but the lightning never struck past the invisible barrier. Rain pattered onto the ashes Bennett’s death had left behind, washed the tribute and his horrible luck away as well as the mutations long melted. The air was charged with electricity and the thunder audible but it wouldn’t harm them here in the Hydro square.

Still, Alhaitham could think about quite a few more pleasant things than resting next to water while a storm was raging one stone’s throw away. They took a rest longer than was wise, out here in the open, stuffing their faces with berries and fatteh, refilling their water bottles as if hoping any taste might be strong enough to overwrite the bile on their tongues. The terrible smell of burning flesh was long gone from the air but it lingered in Alhaitham’s throat.

Dehya was packing up their stuff again and little Sayu was currently showing off the flowers and berries she had used to mix some camouflage paint, Kaveh praising her for her smarts, patting her head every other minute. Alhaitham looked at her. She was unscathed and in good spirits despite having lost two of her former group. She had no weapon, just a small satchel filled with paint on her hip. He gritted his teeth.

The Treasure Hoarders. Albedo. Ningguang’s tributes. Shinobu. Sayu.

She couldn’t make it to the end of this list. She couldn’t be the one remaining when he had to do what he had come here for. Alhaitham had to look away.

Candace was sitting apart from their group, near the water. She had turned her back to the raging storm and watched her reflection in the dark waves, rubbing over her bandaged shoulder. When Sayu giggled over a joke Kaveh made, Alhaitham got up and approached her.

“Everything alright? Did the hounds get you?”

“No, no, I’m feeling great,” Candace said but the answer came too quickly. Alhaitham narrowed his eyes. She wavered immediately under his steely gaze and pulled the hand off the bandage.

“Candace, that’s—”

“It’s fine. Really. I just need some rest, that’s all,” she tried to cover it up again but Alhaitham grabbed her by the wrist. The gauze was soaked by sweat and dirt but also by something that looked dangerously close to blood as if her injury had opened up again. He grabbed the bandage, wanting to pull it off but Candace wriggled out of his grip. “I said it’s fine, Haitham. Please.”

Her mismatched eyes, sun and moon, flitted up to his face, something haunted inside. Alhaitham bit back a snarky retort and nodded, dropping his hands in surrender.

“As you wish.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

If the wound was infected, Candace was a liability. But he didn’t rely on her to protect Kaveh anyway—they were nearing the number of tributes that put him on edge. There was no way he trusted anyone but himself to get Kaveh to the finish line.

“Okay,” he shrugged. They might get to keep secrets in the group but the people outside would know. Perhaps Cyno and Tighnari would send them another package.

As if on command, silver parachutes appeared in the sky above them. Alhaitham pointed them out to the others. No way the sponsoring system worked this fast.

The two parachutes carried quite big boxes and landed swiftly on their plateau. Kaveh and Sayu became quiet, eyeing them curiously but no one moved to open them. It took Alhaitham a moment to realize they were waiting for him to do so. Their chosen leader. He grabbed the card from the smaller box.

Stay alive - T & C

Alhaitham handed the card to Dehya and opened the box. Life vests, four all together, in a muted silver rather than bright orange, were stored inside. As if listening in, the waters around them gurgled softly but nothing emerged. The surface remained dark and eerie. Well, a little less eerie with the vests in their possession. Alhaitham distributed them, his mind racing.

He wondered if Tighnari and Cyno knew how many tributes still possessed a Hydro tracker and were planning in advance. Or if this was an answer to his announcement of wanting to bring the fight to the Treasure Hoarders, who were still surrounded by water at the Cornucopia.

“Thanks Cyno, drowning honestly sounded like the worst death,” Dehya said, aiming her voice at the sky and giving a salute. Candace playfully boxed her arm but then tried putting her own vest on.

“Don’t worry, Sayu, I bet it can carry you and me both. You weigh nothing more than a leaf anyway.”

“Oi!” the kid blew up her cheeks in exasperation at Kaveh’s comment. “I can swim very well!”

“Really? Well, that’s great! Maybe you can teach me.”

“Okay!” Sayu giggled and helped Kaveh into the vest. The blond brushed some hair out of his face, hand darting automatically to the blue feather in his hair. Their gazes met and Alhaitham shook his head in warning. Instead of facing reality, Kaveh dodged it by joking around with Sayu, glossing over the fact that all colour drained from his cheeks. Alhaitham staggered between irrational anger and stoic strategy.

Kaveh had promised it. He had promised he wouldn’t do this to Alhaitham. We could find Shinobu. Hand Sayu over to her. Alhaitham sighed in annoyance and opened the second sponsor package. On the card was nothing but Tighnari’s neatly written initials.

“Archons, is that—” Dehya gasped, leaning over his shoulder. The others scurried closer, murmurs of shock and admiration merging with the thunder growling. Alhaitham feigned indifference as he lifted the sword out of the box. He traced his finger over the blade. It lay comfortable in his hand, similar to his Nana’s sword he had been using for his training. The steel reflected the purple lightning striking sky and earth as he balanced the sword on his wrist.

“Tighnari,” a chill swept down Alhaitham’s neck. A last farewell. Tighnari’s final advice. His grip around the handle became white and he hardened his shoulders. Suddenly he was grateful for the vicious sky behind them, its shadows hiding the emotions blooming in his face, causing them to wither instantly. Kaveh pulled a scabbard out of the package and handed it to him in silence, red-rimmed eyes glassy with anxiety.

Alhaitham put the sword into the sheath around his hip and grabbed Kaveh by the chin, pulling him in. And although he wanted to crash their lips together with another roll of thunder, his mouth brushed over Kaveh’s temple instead. His hand drifted into Kaveh’s hair, his fingertips caressing the blue feather woven into golden locks. Kaveh gasped under his touch, holding onto his chest. He swayed on his feet but Alhaitham’s muscles were still hardened, a wall to lean against.

“Stay close to me tonight,” Alhaitham breathed close to his ear before pulling away. His hand curled around Kaveh’s delicate nape, fingers pressing onto the tracker slumbering underneath his skin. He raised his voice, just loud enough for the rest of the group to hear him. “He didn’t send me this without a reason. Expect not much sleep tonight. We should try finding a more protected island to rest. Let’s move closer to the other side of the square, the adjacent Geo terrain is a possible escape route.”

He gently pushed Kaveh off, betraying his own instincts. Whenever he lay his hands on him roots spread from his fingertips, threading around him, eager to weave them together. It heightened the heat in his chest but Alhaitham knew, tonight there could be no tender flame. Tonight, he was wielding nothing but steel.

Kaveh listened to him. He stayed close to Alhaitham. He took his hand when they approached the water and clumsily swam over to another island with the help of their life vests. He clung to him when they settled down in a better position, close to the border between Hydro and Geo biome. He sank into the warmth of the jacket Alhaitham offered him once they were back on land.

It was too big for his slender frame, the sleeves reaching way past his fingers, so he could wring them in secret. His knuckles ached with how tense he was as he watched the others. Candace, who moved slower than usual, probably exhausted from the day. Dehya, who was charmed by Sayu as much as him and showed off her club to her; it was almost the size of Sayu, looking comically big next to her. And then Alhaitham, practising with his sword, finding a balance and rhythm with it, dancing near the water like a nymph riding the foam of the waves.

The thunderstorm was still roaring when the hymn of the Tsaritsa came to life. The melody scraped deep over his bones, drilling down to the marrow. He huddled deeper into Alhaitham’s jacket but saw Sayu’s eyes swimming in unshed tears.

“Hey, come here, you must be cold,” he offered her an excuse and didn’t comment on her mood. She took it immediately and scurried over to him, snuggling into his arms. She was smaller than Collei. But less fragile. A little sprout that would never blossom. Kaveh sensed Alhaitham’s grim look on him and focused his eyes on the sky even though he wasn’t sure if he would be able to face it.

Kaeya’s portrait appeared first, being the tribute of District 1.

Briefly, Kaveh’s heart felt larger than everything, dwarfing fear and anxiety and anticipation for the dregs of guilt leaving their mark on him. Sayu nuzzled closer. He hugged her tightly, brushing over her hair and he expected his chest to burst open, ribcage splintering under the pressure.

But then Razor and Bennett appeared in the sky, District 3 gone, just like that.

The last portrait was Thoma, District 9.

Kaveh had forgotten about Thoma. Last night was an eternity away, blurred like a badly taken photograph. Kaveh had never really looked at him. Even as Alhaitham had fought him, his gaze had been pinned to him not poor Thoma. Thoma, who was smiling on his portrait. He was handsome. He had kind eyes.

Kaveh searched for Alhaitham’s eyes but now it seemed like the other was set to avoid any contact. He was wielding his sword, desperate to carve out the memory by striking the air around him.

“Here, watch over the jacket for me, okay?” Kaveh took it off and handed it over to Sayu, who completely vanished in it. She let out a delighted squeal when the heating pads inside met her cold skin. Alhaitham pivoted on his heels, the sword moving like an extension of his arm. When he spotted Kaveh coming closer, he stopped.

Kaveh wanted to reach out to him, run his fingers over Alhaitham’s still tense shoulders, knead them like clay and stroke them like silk but before his hands reached him, a cannon shot was fired.

They all flinched. Sayu peered around the small rock she had been hiding behind, looking for danger. The volume of the cannon was always the same, it didn’t matter where the person had died. But they were all observing the arena, waiting for a biome change, especially the Cornucopia square.

Kaveh was convinced, Kaeya’s sudden death and the instant trigger of the Pyro biome had been the Harbinger’s cruelty and that the changes before had been tied to a timer of five to ten minutes. But after Bennett’s death and the burst of flames erupting from under him and Razor’s death triggering a thunderstorm almost immediately without waiting for the hovercraft, Kaveh knew the gamemakers were punishing them for real. Their patience was gone. Hunger Games usually lasted between five to seven days at most but they were setting a ruthless pace for them. Kaveh couldn’t help but think this was Dottore’s doing.

The sky of the formerly harmless Geo biome next to them turned dark. Clouds gathered in the middle, swirling around each other and creating a purple, glowing eye before the storm was unleashed with a roar of thunder and a lightning strike so bright it drowned out the artificial stars and moon.

Someone with an Electro-infused tracker had been killed.

Alhaitham looped an arm around Kaveh’s waist, pulling him in until they were pressed flush.

“Listen to me,” his voice was calm and analytical, yet causing his blood to rush with how close they were. Alhaitham leaned in so much, his lips brushed over Kaveh’s earlobe with every word. “There will be a fight tonight. Given the timing of our sponsor gifts I’m sure the Treasure Hoarders are on their way. We might go into this one together but we will split with the rest before the night ends, do you understand?”

“You mean—you want to leave them behind?” Alhaitham’s upper body pressed up against his back tensed at the question. Kaveh’s eyes darted to little Sayu. He remembered their conversation after the first training session, a lump forming in his throat. As much as he wanted to protect her, he knew his compassion would force Alhaitham’s hand in the most gruesome, horrible way.

“Dehya and I discussed this beforehand. We always said if our numbers dwindled enough, we would part ways. If we manage to eliminate one or two Treasure Hoarders tonight, that’s it.”

“I understand,” Kaveh said because, yes, he did. He knew his personal feelings would be their demise. He knew there was no space for friendship and empathy in the Hunger Games.

But there was a space for ravaging, entitled love.

“Do you? That includes Sayu too.”

“I know,” Kaveh nodded for emphasis.

“Good,” his tone implied everything had been said and yet Alhaitham’s mouth lingered a little longer near his ear, breath coming in gentle waves, warm and enticing and Kaveh craned his neck to arch into the feeling. Alhaitham’s teeth grazed over his earlobe, lips unsure to form any other word. As if he had said too much and yet not given enough.

He was craving absolution.

“It has always been us, Haitham,” Kaveh whispered, the revelation blooming, spreading in his ribcage despite the storm. Because they were murals in the sun and reading sessions in the rain as much as they were teeth grazing hearts and hands taking life. “I’m with you until the end.”

No matter how it comes. No matter what we have to do to get us there.

Lightning struck again in the square next to them, revealing a group of people moving toward them in the distance.

“Get behind me,” Alhaitham unsheathed his sword and stepped to the front, the storm setting him aglow.

Chapter 22: lightning strike

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - LIGHTNING STRIKE

“I'm...so...scared..." - Mika

The Treasure Hoarders were hunting someone. The figure was sprinting ahead of them, rain pattering onto their skin. They had pulled up their hood and covered their face with a piece of cloth, a rapier in their hand. A gust of wind yanked the hood from their head, revealing green hair fluttering in the storm.

Kuki Shinobu.

Alhaitham lingered on the border between the squares - Hydro and Electro - and braced himself for the impact. He would have made a perfect target for Mika and Sara’s crossbow and bow if the storm on the other side didn’t make it impossible to aim.

Dehya was hiding behind one of the cliffs, eyes fixated on Yelan, her club in hand. Candace, Sayu and Kaveh kept to the back, yet close to the dark, quiet waters. In the other biome, lightning struck the ground right next to Shinobu. The sheer burst of energy caused her to stumble and she flailed her arms, almost dropping her rapier. She flung herself forward and Alhaitham bent his knees, about to lunge at her when—

“Shinobu!” Sayu darted past him, ducking under Kaveh and Candace’s hands. Shinobu lifted her head enough for the purple storm to be reflected in equally purple eyes. Alhaitham hesitated. Sayu passed the invisible barrier between the biomes and barrelled into the thunder without fear.

“Get back here!” Alhaitham shouted as he saw how the wind tore at them both. The lightning was circling in, striking without any pattern but Alhaitham knew they weren’t facing nature’s whims but those of the Harbingers.

Behind Shinobu and Sayu, the Treasure Hoarders split up. Yelan had spotted Dehya and fell into an impressive sprint. Her bow had been swapped for a wide arsenal of daggers glinting on her belt like fangs. She vaulted through the barrier, Mika on her heels.

Alhaitham shot a glance over his shoulder but Kaveh was still out of Yelan’s reach, however, Sara and Tomo were closing in toward Shinobu and little Sayu. Tomo lunged forward, wielding a shiny katana, his movement one with the storm. Like at the training gym, he was dancing, his technique out of this world. When his blade threatened to slice into Shinobu’s shoulder, Alhaitham rushed forward and parried the strike with his sword.

Their blades met with the force of roaring thunder, metal against metal.

Shocks traveled from his wrists up into his shoulders and Alhaitham dug his heels into the ground to keep his balance. The Electro-infused biome hit him out of nowhere—the air crackled with electricity, the noise of the storm swallowing everything else. Lightning struck like a whip over the vast terrain, splitting rocks on impact. Thunder growled so loud it rattled Alhaitham’s bones.

The wind howled. And then, it sobbed.

Tomo’s blade slipped off his own. Their momentum came to an abrupt halt as they listened. Alhaitham’s eyes flicked up to the raging skies and Tomo did the same, briefly forgetting their surroundings. The wind was carrying the screams of the fallen tributes.

Alhaitham’s stomach roiled, nausea threatening at his throat when the terrified screams, the dying breaths of the others formed actual words.

“It was an accident, I didn’t—!” Thoma’s voice wrapped around Alhaitham’s neck.

“Bennett! No, Bennett—!” little Razor howled with the thunder.

“Please,” the small voice of a scared girl whispered into Tomo’s ear. Xiangling. The breeze took her with it, her desperate plea filling up the sky. Tomo grabbed at his face, nails digging into his cheek.

As if Alhaitham had stepped under a waterfall, the images rushed at him at once, the violence of them almost throwing him under. Thoma’s shattered face and the blood on his knuckles, District 2 bleeding out on top of him before being swallowed by the waters, Bennett’s arm broken yet desperately holding on before he was snapped in two, Razor scorching down to the bone.

“Wake up!” little Sayu jumped and slammed into his side. Although her weight wasn’t enough to topple him over, the surprise of it was enough for Alhaitham to stumble, causing an arrow to miss him barely. He grabbed Sayu by the collar and yanked her behind him, vision flickering before it managed to lock onto Sara.

She was standing on a small rock behind Tomo, nocking another arrow. The wind might be messing with her aim but at this distance with this many targets, Alhaitham didn’t doubt she would hit her mark eventually. She, too, was yelling but her voice was aimed at Tomo, who seemed paralyzed as his nonchalant, carefree demeanour was drained away by the storm and the cries of the dead.

Alhaitham slashed at the katana in Tomo’s hand because he couldn’t slash at his mind. He hoped their weapons biting at each other would overwrite the cruel mutations of the Harbingers. Tomo lifted his katana to answer him.

“Sayu, run to Kaveh!” Alhaitham yelled.

“I can help—!”

“Run away, Sayu!” Shinobu appeared on Alhaitham’s side before she pivoted on her heels, flanking Tomo. The blond almost tripped as he dodged the sharp sting of her rapier but even the both of them were barely a match for him. He was a Treasure Hoarder, groomed since he had been a young child to win the Hunger Games. The katana was as much an extension of his arm as it was of his mind; he parried them both, using efficiency rather than strength and Alhaitham gritted his teeth, trying to tear through him with rising irritation.

The storm was growing more vicious.

Now the voices of the fallen were drowned by ruthless, cold rain and thunder sounding like cannon shots. Alhaitham didn’t know if tributes were dying or if this was the Harbinger’s version of a cinematic climax to their games—the world around him was a blur, leaving him to fight by reflex.

Tomo twirled on the soles of his feet and brought his katana up in a wide arc. The tip caught onto the softness beneath Shinobu’s chin but before it could cut through it, she staggered backwards, causing the blade to carve over her cheek instead. Red dripped from the wound but it wasn’t fatal. It was enough for Shinobu to lose balance, though.

“No, no, Shinobu, get up!” Sayu yelled. Alhaitham’s heart skipped a beat as he saw, eyes widened in horror, how the little girl darted out of her hiding spot near Sara’s rock and the older tribute immediately locked her in her sight.

Sara’s arrow was nocked, the tip pointing straight at Sayu’s chest, fingertips brushing the string.

Tomo’s katana was coming down, aiming for Shinobu’s stomach.

Suddenly the arena was quiet, lifting its invisible hands to claw around Alhaitham’s throat. Tugging, tearing at every thread that composed him. Unraveling his motives, his goal, his love. Stripping him bare of Kaveh and his golden hair and golden heart—he had come here to protect him. To bring him home. There was nothing else he should even think about doing, there was no reason for him to make a choice and yet—

How many children had died in these games? Alhaitham had never bothered to count. How many times had an 11-year-old stood on that reaping stage and never come back? How could they let this happen, year after year after year?

White-hot anger pushed him forward. He reached for Sayu and managed to grasp her shoulder, yanking her back and covering her body with his own. Sayu squeaked and held onto his chest, eyes growing wide in shock. She stared up at him, fear in every line of her round face.

Blood sprinkled onto her cheeks.

Alhaitham dropped his sword, both hands grabbing onto Sayu to check her for damage but the child was unscathed. His gaze flickered in confusion and he dared a look over his shoulder. Sara’s quiver was empty. She jumped down the rock, her steps unhurried, and tossed her bow aside. She walked toward them and pulled a dagger from her belt.

Alhaitham clenched his jaw and lifted his sword when a throbbing pain jolted through his right side. He doubled over with a wet gasp, Sayu’s scared voice near his ear as she desperately tried to keep him upright.

It was only then, he realized the arrow hadn’t hit Sayu. It had hit him.

“Hide,” he choked out and pushed the girl away. She looked like she wanted to argue but when lightning crashed into the ground next to them, she darted out from under him, hiding in the storm.

Sara made no move to chase after her. Alhaitham was on all fours and the colour drained from his cheeks at the pain sawing through him. He pressed his hand onto the arrow in his side. Had she hit something vital? Pierced through an organ? Saliva lay thick on his tongue but it didn’t taste metal.

Suddenly Tomo appeared in his view, brushing his bloodied katana off on his jacket. Alhaitham’s chest grew cold—had the storm swallowed Shinobu’s cannon shot? He looked around. But no, she was moving. A few meters away from him the girl was crawling through the dirt, leaving a trail of blood behind. She tried to reach the border, to get away from the storm. But Tomo didn’t see the need to finish her. No doubt he was convinced she wouldn’t make it.

“You know Yelan wants him,” Tomo said casually.

“Oh, she can,” Sara played with the dagger in her hand before kneeling down in front of Alhaitham. When he tensed, Tomo immediately aimed his katana at him. The cold kiss of steel met Alhaitham’s throat, lifting up his chin. “You and your little boyfriend caused us a lot of grievance, District 12. But that ends tonight.”

“We need to help her!” Candace wrenched out, her whole body shaking violently in fear. She pressed herself firmer into the cliff in their backs, her mismatched eyes pleading with Kaveh.

“I know but he’s gonna shoot us if we show ourselves,” he bit back, breathing heavily.

They were hidden from the fight but it was still audible. Yelan was a black cat in the night, impossible to spot or pin down. She moved quickly and efficiently, her daggers the teeth snapping at them from the dark. Dehya was holding the line and keeping her occupied but had a hard time even reaching her with her club. They prowled around each other and yet Yelan never stepped too close, quite the contrary, she knew which path to take to push Dehya into hardship.

Even though they outnumbered the Treasure Hoarders, Candace and Kaveh were sitting ducks, covered by Mika’s steady aim. The teenager had crossed into the Hydro biome together with Yelan and he was ignoring Dehya to keep his crossbow pinned to Kaveh’s location. The blond flinched when Candace grabbed onto his thigh and silently gestured at her wooden shield a few meters away with their other supplies.

“I use it to cover us and you throw your mace,” she offered.

“And if I miss?”

“You can’t miss.”

“Obviously not,” Kaveh rolled his eyes, glad he still managed to scrape together a little bit of sarcasm despite the dire situation. But the grim satisfaction made room for cold, harsh dread when he heard Mika yelling.

“C-Come out, Kaveh! It’s only f-fair! You k-killed him—you owe me that—you—” the teenager’s voice broke into a frustrated scream and Candace pushed down Kaveh’s head when a bolt soared over their hiding spot and vanished in the waters in front of them. Kaveh clamped his lashes shut, rubbing his face.

“I didn’t,” he whispered but even if he shouted it, it wouldn’t matter. Mika needed an outlet for his grief and had chosen revenge. Nothing Kaveh said would convince him to change his mind. And he couldn’t even tell the boy the truth. If he mentioned the Harbingers, would they blow him up as well? He couldn’t risk it.

“Kaveh?” Candace murmured, her voice as soft as the moon. He looked at her, forcing a sad smile. She also was too good of a person to die here, he thought. Like Kaeya. Like Changchang. Like all of them. He squeezed Candace’s hand and nodded. Her touch mended him back together, seconds away from vanishing into the ghosts of dead tributes.

“It doesn’t even matter anymore!” Mika called out again, the words shaky and wet. “Alhaitham is dying anyway—”

What?

“What?” Mika’s voice threw shocks into his legs and Kaveh jolted to his feet without thinking. He twirled around so suddenly, even his attacker was startled so the second crossbow bolt went past his head. Candace screamed and tried tugging him back down but Kaveh pushed her off and darted out of their hiding spot, the mace in his hand. “What did you just say?!”

“Kaveh!” Candace raced to her shield and then sprinted after him.

Mika stood by the invisible border between Hydro and Electro biome but he needed to reload, fingers trembling so hard, it bought Kaveh enough time to scan his surroundings. Yelan and Dehya were still dancing around each other, Yelan on top of the rocks, Dehya keeping her at a safe distance with her massive club. But it was the people behind Mika that drew Kaveh’s attention.

Shinobu was dying. She was trying to save herself out of the volatile Electro biome but she moved so slowly, Kaveh knew she wouldn’t make it. There was blood running down her lips and her eyes were unseeing as she dragged herself through the rubble. Sayu was nowhere to be seen.

“Haitham,” the scream lodged in his throat as it suddenly constricted. Kaveh clawed firmer around the mace. Alhaitham was sitting on the ground, surrounded by Tomo and Sara, both of them aiming their weapons at him. There was an arrow lodged in his side.

“Th-That’s right—” Mika stammered, tears streaking down his face as he loaded a third bolt, aiming it straight at Kaveh’s chest. “He’s going to die so it d-doesn’t matter—Kaeya didn’t deserve this!”

“No,” Kaveh whispered, limbs frozen in shock before the adrenaline pumped through his veins so violently, he almost doubled over as he started to run. Mika became an afterthought. Candace a blurry memory. His gaze focused on the barrier between the biomes as he braced himself for the storm. Mika shrieked as he saw him charging at him and lifted his crossbow in a frantic arc before losing balance.

A terrible scream tore through the night and Kaveh stumbled over Mika’s legs, crashing to the ground. He whipped his head around and saw Candace dropping the shield before she fell to her knees. The bolt had hit her old wound, painting the bandages crimson red.

“CANDACE!” Dehya’s voice was a lion’s roar.

She turned her back on Yelan to get to Candace and was immediately punished for it by Yelan, who lunged forward and buried her dagger into Dehya’s biceps. The Treasure Hoarder ripped it out and launched another attack. This time, Dehya managed to dodge it by swinging her club and hitting Yelan in the side. She lost her footing and was thrown into the water by the impact. Dehya ignored her and sprinted to Candace.

Kaveh’s mind was racing, urging him to help, to fight but—but they couldn’t matter. Alhaitham was surrounded by their enemies, Alhaitham would die, Mika had told him so—!

Mika.

He had forgotten about Mika.

They both had dropped their weapons during their collision but whereas Kaveh couldn’t find his mace at first glance, Mika was quicker. He froze when the teenager aimed the crossbow at his head. They were so close, the weapon pushed against Kaveh’s forehead, damp hair stuck between them.

A ribbon of tears swam in Mika’s bright eyes. Despite carrying the colour of the ocean, they were ablaze. He was still shaking, so he pressed the crossbow firmer against Kaveh’s forehead, so much it hurt. Still, the blond didn’t dare to move, every breath like splinters of glass slicing up his throat.

“Mika,” he wrenched out, lifting his hands.

“You betrayed us,” the teenager sobbed. “Why did you do that?!”

Again, Kaveh thought about telling him the truth. That he had liked Kaeya too, that he hadn’t wanted for this to happen, that he needed Mika to understand that they were fighting against something bigger—but again, he knew, it wouldn’t matter.

He would die. There was no way Mika would let him go. If their roles were reversed, if this were Alhaitham’s killer, would he? Were they really that different, that innocent? Wouldn’t he tear through them all if they had taken Alhaitham from him as if there was the possibility of finding him in there between all the bones and gore of kids that would never outgrow the hunger these games instilled in all of them?

“I told you,” Kaveh, therefore, said, deciding to at least make it easier for Mika. “I belong to him.”

Alhaitham’s gaze grazed over the length of Tomo’s katana before flicking over to the soft curve of Sara’s dagger. His lips were a thin line as he focused on breathing steadily through his nose to conquer the throbbing pain in his side. His hand was pressing onto the wound, the other curled around the shaft of the arrow. He was tempted to break it off but didn’t dare to move because while Tomo seemed keen on leaving him for Yelan to kill, Sara didn’t look convinced.

“You had planned this all along, didn’t you?” she demanded to know, the tip of the dagger drawing blood on his jaw. “Kaveh was supposed to lure Mika and Kaeya into the jungle during the watch and reunite with you, so you both could finish them off.”

“So? Isn’t that what we came here for? Killing people?” Alhaitham arched a brow, unable to discern why she seemed this riled up about Kaeya’s death. As far as he knew, Sara had always kept mostly to herself and even cooperated with Tomo out of necessity rather than sympathy.

“He’s right,” Tomo shrugged.

“Shut up. Both of you! This is not a f*cking game!”

“Actually,” Alhaitham dragged the word. “That’s exactly what this is.”

He knew he was playing with fire. But he already was trapped in a storm, trapped between blades, what more harm could a flame do? If Sara lost her composure, he might have a chance.

“You think this is all so f*cking easy, huh? You from District 12 have no clue what we go through.”

“Sara,” Tomo’s playful tone bled into an edged warning. They were focusing on each other now. Alhaitham’s heart beat heavily in his chest but he forced himself to keep still, observing.

“But I’m right!” Sara insisted. “He has no idea what it’s like. He thinks he can come here in the name of love, and mock our hard work—and we train until our hands are blistered and still need to spread our legs to gain some kind of respect from them—”

The thunder was swelling louder again. The Fatui would think it was rain on Sara’s face but Alhaitham knew it was a stray tear as she splintered open. Her words wouldn’t make it through the storm, would be swallowed by it, the Harbingers would make sure of it. But Tomo still panicked, grabbing her by the elbow and urging her to be quiet.

“If that’s what you think,” Alhaitham murmured, tilting his head downwards so no camera would pick up his lips moving. “Then you’re trying to kill the wrong person.”

“Well, it’s not like I have f*cking choice,” her blazing eyes caught the lightning in the distance. Her pupils became narrow as her resolve festered. “I’m going to prove myself to them. I’ll win the games and then they'll have to leave me alone.”

She surged forward, dagger in hand and Alhaitham arched back as far as he could, already knowing it wouldn’t be enough. The blade was about to slice him open when Sara’s hand dropped. Blood gushed out of her arm, cut off right below the elbow, and merged with the rain pattering on Alhaitham’s face.

She didn’t scream. Her eyes widened in surprise, mouth agape. Tomo’s katana hovered between them before it lashed out again, quick as a snake, and decapitated Sara in one, swift slash.

The cannon sounded, small and timid, compared to the storm around them.

Alhaitham broke off the shaft of the arrow still lodged in his side and scrambled away from Sara’s corpse bleeding out—her head rolled over the rubble and Tomo’s cut made it impossible to discern the element of her tracker.

“Electro, in case you were wondering,” Tomo said, closing their distance. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You kill your own teammate? Just like that?”

“I’ll tell Yelan it was you,” the Treasure Hoarder’s face was illuminated by a smile, unaffected by his actions. Alhaitham’s chest cramped with rising, sour anxiety. He had misjudged Tomo terribly if this was his approach. It made no sense to him. Had he been scared Sara’s speech would blow them up after what had happened to Kaeya? Or was he missing a whole other motive here?

“Why?” he grabbed his sword and fought himself to his feet. Tomo let him get up. But it didn’t mean anything. He also had let Shinobu crawl away. Alhaitham steadied his sword anyway, even though he knew he was no match for Tomo’s abilities.

“Contrary to Sara I do believe love is a valid reason for wanting to win the games,” Tomo explained, adopting his fighting stance. “There’s someone waiting for me at home and I intend to see him again. So don’t even bother, Alhaitham. You can’t keep us apart.”

“If you kill me, there’s no chance of you making it home,” Alhaitham put his bloodied hand onto his own neck. “My death will turn this storm into an inferno and blow you up just like Kaeya.”

Tomo breathed out a laugh. But it was barely audible. The storm was picking up. Wind almost robbing him of all breath left. It was as if Sara’s death had accelerated the properties of the Electro square. Alhaitham took a step back. Tomo shook his head, still not making a move to chase him down.

“Nice try. I know you have a Dendro tracker. I saw it earlier.”

“Are you sure?” he bluffed, keeping his voice level.

“Quite sure,” Tomo raised the katana and walked toward him. For a moment, Alhaitham allowed himself to be impressed by him—how he seemed fearless in his resolve, how he followed a goal so similar to his own and how he used his violent upbringing to his advantage to achieve it where Alhaitham still hesitated.

And then, as if Sara’s soul was judging him, a bolt of lightning struck Tomo down with the wrath of his fallen district member.

The impact was so powerful, Alhaitham was thrown backwards. He crashed against one of the bigger rocks, stars exploding in front of his eyes as he briefly lost all sense of up and down before he felt the heft of his sword beneath his fingers.

When he saw clearly again, Tomo’s burned corpse lay right next to Sara’s beheaded one. His katana glittered like the fang of a primal beast, swallowing another soul of the arena. The cannon was a faint sound in the distance before the dark clouds above Alhaitham parted and the storm switched into a somber breeze caressing his blood-soaked face.

Tomo had carried an Anemo-infused tracker.

With the thunderstorm dissipated, he finally managed to orient himself again. Ignoring the arrow in his side, he got up and searched for Kaveh in the Hydro biome. He expected him and Candace to still be hidden away, so when he spotted Kaveh’s tear-stricken face at the border of the square, he hissed out a curse and started to run.

“KAVEH!” he called out and with the storm finally quieting down, his voice permeated the air like a war cry, loud enough for both Kaveh and Mika to hear him. The teenager was aiming his crossbow straight at Kaveh’s head and the other’s hands were lifted in the air, away from his mace. Alhaitham’s eyes narrowed at Mika, focusing on the connection between him and the crossbow, on that trembling hand, those hesitant fingers not pulling the trigger just yet.

Kaveh used the moment of distraction to bring up his knees between them and kicked Mika in the stomach. The teenager was thrown back and Kaveh rolled to the side, grabbing his mace. Alhaitham crossed the invisible barriers between the biomes and raised his sword.

Mika jolted to his feet, Alhaitham’s blade missing him barely, and he darted away, running for his life. Alhaitham was about to chase after him, when—

“Let her go, you f*cking bitch!” Dehya roared and Kaveh and Alhaitham whipped around to the rest of their team. Kaveh grabbed Alhaitham by the sword arm. Dehya was holding onto her club but her weapon, as impressive as it was, became useless in her hand because Yelan was hovering over Candace on the ground. Mika’s crossbow bolt from earlier was still lodged in Candace’s old wound Yelan had caused her and the Treasure Hoarder now put her foot on top of the bolt, twisting it deeper. Candace’s body reared upwards on a broken scream before her eyes rolled back into her skull.

“Candace—!” Kaveh cried, lifting his mace but Alhaitham’s arm crossed in front of his chest, holding him back.

“Come here and make me, Dehya. Let’s see what happens,” Yelan smirked, daggers in both of her hands. Kaveh stared at Candace’s rattling chest. She was fighting to stay conscious. His gaze flicked from her to Alhaitham, stoic and lethal at his side. He, too, was wounded. A broken arrow was still stuck in his side. There was sweat on his brows and no more colour in his face. But he kept to his feet as if nailed to the ground. If he was here—that must mean Sara and Tomo were dead.

“Tomo told me you came here for me,” Alhaitham suddenly spoke up. “So leave her out of it and face me.”

Yelan’s cat-like eyes narrowed at his voice. She lifted the foot off Candace’s shoulder and the tribute beneath her let out a wet whimper. Candace tried curling into herself but gave up halfway through, her body too weak to listen. Dehya nervously looked from Yelan to Alhaitham. It was clear, she wanted nothing more than to charge at Yelan but didn’t risk it in fear of hurting Candace.

“I’ll get to you,” Yelan hissed at Alhaitham. “First, I avenge Changchang.”

“And then you die,” Alhaitham answered, his tone unsettlingly calm. Kaveh shivered. “Tomo and Sara are dead. Mika ran away. You are alone, Yelan. You can’t win this.”

“Tsk,” she scoffed and Kaveh was familiar with the sound; she had reacted the same way when Changchang’s fate had been inevitable. She was trying to steel her heart against the horrors of the arena, trying to mime the ruthless Treasure Hoarder. But Kaveh remembered her crying in the Cornucopia the night Changchang had died. She was, like all of them, human.

She didn’t allow herself to be, though. She retreated from Candace’s writhing body, closer to the shore, the dark waves lapping at her ankles. Daggers still lifted in front of her chest, she glared at Alhaitham with a crooked, almost maniac smirk.

“Then I leave them to you. Go on, kill your friends, Alhaitham. Then tell me how it feels to be winning,” she twirled onto her feet and dove into the waters.

“No!” Dehya howled, running toward the ledge but hesitating to jump after Yelan. “You let her get away again?! Why would you do that?!”

“Dehya,” Kaveh adopted a harsh tone to get through her furious self. “We need to patch up Candace!”

That silenced her. Dehya cast one last look at the water but Yelan must have dived deep. She was a brilliant swimmer and she had had enough time to get familiar with the Hydro biome’s layout since the Cornucopia was still one as well. Kaveh and Dehya fell onto their knees next to Candace, who was barely conscious anymore.

“Candace, love, look at me,” Dehya cradled her face with shaking hands. “Stay awake. We got this. Haitham, where is that salve Tighnari sent you?”

“In the backpack,” Alhaitham sank down next to them and the sound of his laboured breathing was enough to alarm Kaveh. He let go of Candace and turned toward him, looking at the arrowhead buried in his side. Alhaitham shook his head. “I don’t think it hit anything vital. Keep it inside for now, it’ll be fine.”

Kaveh racked his brain, trying to think of Tighnari’s lectures about first aid. The broadhead might provide useful pressure to stop the bleeding, so keeping it in was a decent call. But the salve wouldn’t help when the arrow was still inside.

“You’re shaking,” Kaveh said.

“It’s cold.”

“Haitham, look at me, please.”

“Candace first,” Alhaitham grabbed Kaveh’s clammy fingers and pushed them off. “Get the salve, yeah?”

The blond listened, turning away from Alhaitham once again during this night. The guilt was a heavy weight on his shoulders. If he had moved any quicker instead of hiding like a coward, maybe Alhaitham wouldn’t have gotten hit in the first place. He jogged over to their scattered supplies and reached for the backpack when someone else appeared behind the nearby rock.

Kaveh yelped in surprise, dropping the backpack. His outcry was enough for Alhaitham to lunge to his feet. The taller one was at his side in an instant, yanking him back to function as a wall between Kaveh and the stranger—only it wasn’t a stranger.

It was Shinobu.

A strangled noise escaped them both. It was a miracle she was still conscious considering the gaping wound in her abdomen, streaming dark blood over her lower body in a steady trickle. Her muscles were seizing but the grip around a human arm was unforgiving. She pulled at it and revealed a scared-looking Mika from behind the rock, a gashing wound above his left eye.

He whimpered when he saw himself in front of Kaveh and Alhaitham, his gaze frantic like the one of a caged animal. Shinobu lifted a dagger to his throat, pressing down.

“He wanted to run away,” she said, bubbles of blood forming in the corner of her mouth as she spoke. Her purple eyes were flickering, desperately clinging onto what little light was left, and fixed onto Alhaitham’s face. “You saved Sayu. We are even now.”

“Please—” Mika begged softly, quietly.

Shinobu carved the dagger into the front of Mika’s throat. She dropped him as the teenager’s eyes bulged in horror and Mika fell to his knees, both hands pressing against the wound. Blood trickled between his fingers before appearing on his tongue.

The dagger slipped out of Shinobu’s slick fingers and she joined Mika on the ground. Contrary to him, she was dead as soon as her knees hit the rubble. She fell over, her upper body disappearing in the waters before the dark waves dragged her in. The cannon sounded.

“Mika,” silent tears had fallen ever since the Reaping Day but now they burst from Kaveh’s eyes accompanied by a loud sob, raining down on Mika as he crouched in front of him. Mika’s gaze lacked his former urge for vengeance. Now it was nothing but scared. One hand still pressed to his throat, the other, drenched in warm blood, grabbed onto Kaveh’s chest.

“K-Ka…veh,” he sputtered and crimson ran down his chin. Kaveh grabbed him by the side of his head, keeping him upright. Alhaitham was hovering over them both but Kaveh ignored him; he knew if he let go of Mika, he would be another child lost, another pointless death. But if he was his anchor, if he kept him tethered to life then he would—he would…

“I’m so sorry,” Kaveh wept. “He was such a beautiful person. Like you, Mika. I’m sorry, you didn’t—I wish—I wish I could have kept you both safe.”

“I’m…so…scared…” Mika fell forward and Kaveh wrapped both arms around him, hugging him fiercely. Small, warm hands held onto him, causing the blood to stream freely between them, enough to soak them both, enough to seep between the cracks of Kaveh’s shattered heart.

A hand landed on his shoulder, tearing him out of the hug with full force. Kaveh screamed, expecting to be attacked but it was only Alhaitham behind him.

“Get away, Kaveh!” he barked and grabbed Mika with both hands, pulling him off.

“Haitham! What are you doing—?!” Kaveh watched in horror how Mika dangled in Alhaitham’s grip, crying blood and tears, chest heaving for a last rattling breath.

“He has a Pyro tracker!” Alhaitham frantically looked around as the realization settled in Kaveh’s stomach with the brunt of a boulder. He scrambled backwards, calling out for Dehya and Candace to run but Candace was still unconscious on the ground. Alhaitham threw Mika over his shoulder and started to sprint.

“Haitham!” Kaveh chased after him although he knew he wouldn’t reach him in time. Alhaitham didn’t slow down but charged into the adjacent square with drumming strides.

Mika’s blue, scared eyes turned cold and glassy. The cannon sounded.

As soon as Alhaitham passed the invisible barrier and was welcomed by the breeze Tomo’s Anemo-infused tracker had left behind, Mika’s body exploded in a wave of fire.

While the Pyro element tied to Kaeya’s tracker had been able to feast on a whole jungle, the detonation this close between the squares caused the fire to roll against the invisible barrier and then charge at Alhaitham with the force of the explosion.

Mika was incinerated in an instant but the flames latched onto Alhaitham’s wounded side before he could save himself back into their square. Fire tore through Alhaitham’s right side, through his clothes and the arrow lodged in his body. Kaveh dashed forward and yanked him back into the Hydro biome. He pushed him to the ground and tried to beat out the flames with his blood-soaked hands.

Alhaitham’s body was seizing, foam in the corner of his mouth as his lips cracked open under the heat and the soul-shattering scream he let out, rattling Kaveh down to the bone and filling him with cold dread despite the flames.

Kaveh threw himself against Alhaitham on the ground and rolled him over the rubble and uneven stone until he reached the shore and managed to push him into the waves. Carried above the surface by his vest, Kaveh held onto Alhaitham frantically, scared of losing him in the cold darkness.

The moment the flames extinguished, the waters roared and rumbled around them both. The Hydro biome started to shift, a change triggered by Shinobu’s tracker.

Chapter 23: adrift

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - ADRIFT

“You refusing to send help is going to kill him!” - Tighnari

The sponsor lounge was packed. People were drinking and cheering at the many screens where the highlight reel of last night’s fight was being broadcast. When Tighnari, Cyno and Nilou crashed out of the elevator and into the lounge, they mostly went unnoticed. Nilou hovered at the entrance, eyes widening in shock at the celebrations, having never set foot into the sponsor’s spaces before.

“Over there!” Tighnari called out to the other two and wove himself through the crowd. Bright sunlight flooded the lounge but it didn’t matter to the Fatui, the Hunger Games were a never-ending party to them so the alcohol flowed like water and the mood was ecstatic. Tighnari might throw up a little in his mouth.

His crowd of sponsors led by Haypasia were sitting at their usual table, currently occupied with a late brunch and dry white wine. They lifted their glasses when they saw Tighnari hurrying toward them, Cyno and Nilou in tow.

“Tighnari! Congrats! Your tributes did so well!”

“Yeah, three Treasure Hoarders down in one night, can you believe it?!”

“Kaveh was so adorable, how he hugged poor Mika! Heartbreaking!”

They moved to offer Tighnari and Nilou a seat and then, after exchanging nervous glances, pulled in a chair for Cyno too. But the mentor of District 10 crossed his arms and remained a stoic statue in the background, staring them down with blank eyes. Tighnari wished for Cyno’s control right now. It took all in him not to launch across the table and beat the stupid smiles off their faces.

“Thank you,” he said and cleared his throat when he realized his snarky tone. Nilou cast him a helpless look. Even she couldn’t muster up a smile anymore after the horrors of last night. “It was an incredible fight. I think we should reward them for it, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” the Fatuis’ eyes started to shine and Haypasia leaned forward eagerly. “Does Kaveh have any favourite treats? He looks like someone who would have a sweet tooth!”

“I—what?” them talking about desserts of all topics caused Tighnari to lose track of his mission completely. He stared at them, dumbfounded and lacking any witty retort as the Fatui started to gush about their favourite treats, wondering what Kaveh would appreciate. He dared a look over his shoulder. Cyno’s knuckles were white with how hard he clawed into his forearms.

“Uhm,” Nilou finally chirped. “We were actually talking about medicine.”

“Medicine? What for?” the oldest sponsor asked, taking an unhurried sip of his wine.

“Yeah, Kaveh isn’t injured.”

Tighnari placed his hands on the table, clasping around the corner to not throw himself across it. His tail was flicking in growing irritation, a gesture that caused one of the Fatui to coo in admiration and reach out to pet it.

Cyno stepped forward, hindering the Fatui before his fingers reached the fur. Instead, they bumped into Cyno’s side. He shot them a glare out of scorching eyes and the Fatui sank into his chair with a sputtered apology. Tighnari swallowed a smile, frantically grasping at what little control he had left.

“He isn’t,” he heard himself saying, his voice so detached from his emotions that he didn’t recognize it. “But Haitham has sustained major injuries. Especially the burn wounds need medical attention.”

The Fatui exchanged quiet glances, lifting their brows at each other. Some of them smiled at Tighnari, the gesture soaked in pity and his tail dropped in disappointment because he knew what Haypasia would say even before she opened her mouth.

“See, Tighnari, sponsoring gifts this late in the games are extremely costly.”

“Yes, and Alhaitham has kinda fulfilled his purpose last night,” another sponsor chimed in. “There are almost no tributes left and the Treasure Hoarders are no longer a threat.”

“Exactly,” Haypasia agreed. “We love Alhaitham, we do! But Kaveh has stolen our hearts! We want him to win and that doesn’t work if we provide other tributes with our funds, you know?”

“He won’t win without Haitham,” Tighnari gritted out between his teeth, desperate for a neutral tone while his expression was one of pure loathing.

“Oh, please,” a sponsor droned with a deep laugh. “Alhaitham is useless now. He can’t fight! The medicine able to help him would be more expensive than the sword! I think if anything, Kaveh deserves a present now, eh? You are kind of spoiling Alhaitham here, Tighnari, first a sword now medicine? Is he your favourite, then?”

“You sick monsters, you are worrying about mora?! These are my friends in there! You refusing to send help is going to kill him!” Tighnari snarled and swept his arm over the table, sending wine glasses and plates of food flying. The Fatui shrieked in shock and the people around them went deadly quiet as they watched the scene unfold.

Nilou jumped off her seat and grabbed Tighnari by the arm, pulling him away from the table before he could lunge at Haypasia, who cast him a pitying smile. All the other sponsors looked too shocked to form an opinion on his outburst just yet.

“So, now that we discussed this—what is Kaveh’s favourite dessert?”

Tighnari grabbed the nearest butter knife and threw himself across the table, kicking Nilou off with ease. He was about to ram the knife into Haypasia’s hand when Cyno’s fingers curled around his wrist and locked it in place. The Fatui squeaked and jumped away from the table. The crowd stumbled backwards, some people called for security.

“E-Excuse us, please,” Nilou mumbled, cheeks ablaze. “We need to go.”

Tighnari fought against Cyno’s grip but the other mentor was made out of muscle and patience when it came to his outbursts. He twisted Tighnari's wrist until he dropped the knife and lifted him, carrying him out of the crowd, after Nilou. Tighnari scratched at Cyno’s hoodie, hissing that his gums throbbed, filed fangs on display. His fur stood on end and his pupils were blown wide as the animal instincts the Fatui had instilled in him long ago clawed to the surface.

“f*ck you, Haypasia! f*ck all of you! I f*cking hate you all, you sick bastards! I hope you choke on your f*cking wine, monsters, all of you!”

Fatui security guards appeared in the appalled crowd but Nilou managed to talk them down from arresting Tighnari. She lifted her hands and told them with tears in her eyes under how much stress Tighnari was and that he didn’t mean it, that he only was worried about his friends - while Tighnari wanted to scream and point out the lies because yes, he wanted them all to die for what they were doing to his friends and, he wanted to do it himself.

But then the three of them stepped into the elevator and the doors closed. Cyno gently put him back on his feet and Tighnari slammed his clammy hands against the mirror in the elevator with an agonized scream.

“f*ck, f*ck, f*ck—!”

“This was awful!” Nilou buried her face in her hands before looking at them with tear-dimmed eyes. “These people are just awful!”

“They are going to let Haitham die because they simply are in the mood for it. And I didn’t even get to talk about Candace.”

“No chance,” Cyno shook his head when Tighnari looked at him with a pained expression. “They don’t care about her either. The Fatui have their favourites this late in the games. We can’t sway them anymore.”

Tighnari grabbed onto his ears, pulling until his scalp twinged in pain. He buried his teeth into his dry lower lip, staring at his reflection with an unseeing gaze. Even if the Fatui still could be swayed, he had ruined his year-long friendship with his sponsor circle. There was no coming back from it, not even if he grovelled before them now. There was nothing Fatui despised more than bad manners.

He had cussed out his sponsors! In the middle of all the other sponsors! He would never get a gift for his tributes again!

“How much mora do we have? If we combine our accounts again?” Tighnari asked Nilou. For a brief second, he allowed himself to hope as if Nilou would be able to make a miracle happen. But they knew their last gift had cost them all the mora left. But then again, perhaps people had sent more after the horrible fight last night. Tighnari knew, especially the scenes between Mika and Kaveh had pulled on a lot of heartstrings. f*ck, even Lumine had been a sobbing mess during them watching the games together.

“We can go check," Cyno offered with a helpless shrug. He hadn’t talked about it but ever since Candace had been hurt again, he was fiddling with his sleeve and unable to stand still for long.

“Do that,” Nilou agreed. “I’ll see if Aether and Lumine might be able to help. Perhaps we haven’t fallen from grace in stylist circles yet.”

They parted ways and Cyno and Tighnari entered the Mentor Control Room. It was empty but that was no surprise. There were only eight tributes left, four on their team. After a brutal encounter, tributes and their mentors used the limited timeframe to rest. But sleep was the last thing on Tighnari’s mind when they approached their screens.

Kuki Shinobu’s death had turned the Hydro biome into a glimpse of home. A lush jungle had grown from the receding waters and the former chasms had lifted into gentle, green slopes with flower crowns. Birds sat on thick branches and bugs of all kinds crawled over vines and bark.

Hidden in the thicket in a small cave covered by a curtain of vines, Alhaitham and Candace were lying on beds made of moss. Candace was conscious again but her speech was slurred and no matter how much Dehya begged, she couldn’t keep any food or water down.

Alhaitham’s condition was even worse. Tighnari tore his gaze away before his upset mind analyzed the damage and came to the same devastating conclusion that had brought him to the sponsor’s lounge in the first place. Instead, he walked over to the console that allowed them to send sponsor gifts.

His account stood at a total amount of sad 520 mora, which was useful during the first day of the Hunger Games but by now, a simple bottle of water cost 2000. He scrolled through the catalogue of supplies. The prices had partially tripled overnight. He ran his finger over the screen, trying to find something, anything he could send to them that would be some kind of comfort.

“I have 130 mora left,” Cyno mumbled from the console next to him and then hunched over the screen with a frustrated sigh. Tighnari’s tail wagged softly before it curled around Cyno’s side. Neither of them noticed, both too immersed in watching their friends.

“Her wound is infected. It was even before she was injured again,” Tighnari said when the camera zoomed in on Candace’s shoulder. They had pulled out the bolt but she needed stitches. Right now, Dehya tried to keep the pressure up with a makeshift compression bandage but considering Candace’s slurred speech and her severe breathlessness, sepsis had already started.

“Nari,” Cyno’s otherwise rough voice sounded small all of a sudden. “Will she make it?”

Even though it was there on the screen for the whole nation to see, Tighnari didn’t want to be the one to deliver the devastating news. He averted his eyes and focused on the overview of the tributes on the wall.

“I mean, there’s not many people left.”

“There’s us. And then little Sayu and Albedo from District 2.”

“Ningguang’s tribute Chongyun and of course, Yelan. Yes. It’s—they could do it. Kaveh and Dehya, they could—” but then what? Tighnari’s voice broke in uncertainty. They were still talking about them, about their team, but with only eight tributes left, this alliance was about to crumble.

Alhaitham had been right last night. They should have split up. But with him getting burned so severely and Candace injured, no one had remembered that plan. Splitting up now was a death sentence. Plus, Alhaitham couldn't travel in his state.

“Let’s see what we can get for 650 mora,” Cyno said softly and leaned onto him so they both could look at the same screen, scrolling through the sponsor’s shop.

Fifteen minutes ago a small sponsor package had fallen into Kaveh’s lap with nothing but a red flower petal and a note spelling I'm sorry with Tighnari's initials. While the note almost tore his heart in two, the petal gave him hope. It was the one of a Mourning Flower and Tighnari’s way of saying this was all that was possible when it came to medicine. The chyle located in Mourning Flower stems consisted of alkaloids that possessed the ability to ease pain. However, it would never be able to compete with the medicine the Fatui could provide to even heal severe stab wounds overnight.

Still, anything that eased Alhaitham’s pain was worth it. So Kaveh had told Dehya to stay back with Candace and Alhaitham while he scouted the surrounding jungle. They were hidden in a small cave covered by thick branches and vines and Dehya didn’t put the club out of her hand, but leaving them behind still left a feeling of unease in him.

Not even the familiar surroundings, fragments of home in the form of Bouncy Mushrooms and cheery birdsong, could calm Kaveh. He picked the Mourning Flowers almost methodically. They were one of his favourite flowers. There was a whole field of them deep in the jungle in District 12. Legends told they only ever bloomed on ancient battlefields. Back when the Archons still roamed Teyvat, all seven of them, Greater Lord Rukkhadevata had fought on such a battlefield, her blood spilled by the Tsaritsa creating the crimson petals of the Mourning Flowers.

Kaveh knew speaking her name was forbidden and would probably kill him on the spot and yet he saw the flowers for what they were in this moment. A flicker of hope, a spark of light, a smile of a Goddess who hadn’t forsaken them but fought until the bitter end.

With dozens of Mourning Flowers in his arms, he returned to their hideout, looking around carefully before he slipped through the opening. Dehya welcomed him with a short nod; she didn’t speak unless it was aimed at Candace, who was drifting in and out of consciousness. They had been able to patch up her wound clumsily but it still was infected and not even Mourning Flowers would be able to do anything about it, Rukkhadevata’s blessing or not.

But Kaveh shared his findings with Dehya anyway. He pressed the milky sap out of the stems and caught it in the caps of their bottles, handing her one. It wasn’t much but to drown out Alhaitham’s anguish he would have to pick a whole acre of flowers, which wasn’t possible.

Nothing, not Kaeya’s blood on his face, not Mika’s tears in his heart, nothing could compare to what the sight of Alhaitham on his makeshift moss bed unravelled in him. Whatever had composed Kaveh was uncoiling, streaming into his veins and turning every part of him into lead as he sat by his side, utterly helpless and powerless.

Alhaitham’s skin was raw, blistered flesh from the underside of his jaw over the side of his neck down to his chest, only to then switch into gruesome white and charred skin hard as leather as the burn wounds turned even more severe in his hip area. The arrowhead lodged between his ribs had simply been incinerated. It was gone because the fire had reached deep, through muscles and tendons, perhaps even bones.

The burn on Alhaitham’s neck was weeping fluid, adding to the sweat on his brows and the tears hanging in his lashes. He hadn’t stopped crying ever since Kaveh and Dehya had put him down, silently, without a sound, though Kaveh knew he must be in indescribable pain. Yet Alhaitham seemed determined to stay awake. His eyes fluttered open every other second, now latching onto Kaveh’s face with the gaze of a man refusing to let go.

“I’m back, Haitham,” he whispered softly, stating the obvious because he couldn’t face the uncertainty. What would happen if Alhaitham’s eyes stayed closed, if his body lost the fight against itself. He brought the bottle cap up to Alhaitham’s lips and cradled his head in his palm, lifting it enough for him to take a sip. Even the slight movement was enough to pull Alhaitham’s face into an agonized mask. “Tighnari sent us Mourning Flower milk.”

At his words, Alhaitham’s lashes swung upward. His gaze was lacking its usual sharpness but Kaveh understood him anyway. He brought his head back down onto the pillow of moss and clicked his tongue.

“It’s not enough to knock you out. Just to ease the pain.”

“I’m not…taking it…” his voice was no louder than a bare, wet whisper.

“You need it,” Kaveh bit back the frustration in his tone. He wanted to sound calm and collected like Tighnari when he patched up the kids in District 12 but his fear was a palpable thing, thrumming through him like a second heartbeat. He cowered closer to the bed, resisting the urge to curl into Alhaitham’s healthy side. He needed to be the strong one for once, damn it.

“I’m not done yet,” Alhaitham spoke, his breath a worrying rattle. “There’s…Ye…lan.”

“Mh, I’m sure she will tremble in fear once she runs into you.” Kaveh fled into sarcasm because their arguments were always drenched in snark and wit and pushed away emotions.

“You know…what I…mean.”

Kaveh did. Mourning Flowers, despite the blood-soaked legend of their origin, had their name from their pain-relieving properties, given when it was too late, when all one was left to do was to ease the suffering of a patient. There was the sap milk able to overwrite pain and there were the poisonous seeds to end it once and for all. Back then, Rukkhadevata's followers had swallowed those to spare themselves the cruel fate of falling into the Tsaritsa's hands. A last way out through the mercy of their dying Goddess.

He put the cap full of sap milk down and rubbed his face. But for the first time since the games, his eyes were dry.

It was almost ironic, how he had sobbed over Mika and Kaeya and now, all the wet grief had ebbed, leaving his eyes itchy and his lips chapped. A pathetic attempt to refuse to give up.

He grabbed a rag and drenched it in the water they had left. He softly dabbed the cloth onto Alhaitham’s forehead. He didn’t dare to touch the burn wounds with it for fear of causing an infection but whenever a lukewarm waterdrop landed on Alhaitham’s face, the other sighed in relief, eyes rolling weakly in their sockets.

Kaveh stole a look at Dehya, who was perched on Candace’s side like a silent warden. She caught his gaze, her face devoid of any emotion. She was still holding onto her club. He looked at Alhaitham’s sword by his bed and his mace right next to it. He had thought about it, briefly, and then hated himself for thinking such depraved, desperate thoughts. Had weighed his chances of knocking out Dehya and finishing them both off because a dark voice in his mind had told him once he came back from flower picking, Dehya would have done the same to Alhaitham.

But she hadn’t. Not yet, at least.

Their numbers were dwindling. The threat of Yelan might be the only reason they were upholding this alliance. Kaveh let more water trickle over Alhaitham’s burning forehead, thoughts racing. He didn’t know how these games would end and it set him on edge. Their mentors couldn’t provide any more medicine and Alhaitham's wounds were so severe that there was no way he would heal before the Hunger Games finished.

This meant Kaveh needed to kill the remaining tributes and that quickly before killing himself, so Alhaitham would win and get the medical care he so urgently needed. He looked at Dehya again. And Candace, sleeping, breath shallow but chest heaving with her gentle stubbornness. Kaveh swallowed hard. There was no way.

If this was strength, then he had none. How could this be the right thing to do, to kill your own friends?

“Haitham,” Kaveh whispered because it had been a while since Alhaitham’s eyes had opened. His call was answered by fluttering lashes and then Alhaitham tilted his head toward him. Kaveh put the cloth aside and crawled onto the moss. Alhaitham lifted his unscathed arm and it was ridiculous that even now, he was the one giving Kaveh comfort.

“I lied,” Alhaitham confessed, the words quietly pouring over Kaveh’s earlobe. He had tucked in his legs and was pressing into his side as if his love could seep through the cracks of Alhaitham’s ribs.

“What do you mean?”

“A day is enough,” Alhaitham’s fingers came to rest on the curve of his waist, the touch featherlight but burning straight into Kaveh’s core. His throat stifled a pained sob. “Even an hour…would be. You are…worth it…and I was…a coward.”

“Shut up,” Kaveh wrenched out, hiding his face in the crook of Alhaitham’s neck. “Don’t talk like that. You’re saying goodbye.”

“I tossed away years of us because I was too much of a coward,” Alhaitham’s jaw was working heavily, clenched and gritted, as he fought to stay conscious and harness his pain enough to form words. Kaveh held onto him and sat up enough to look at his face. His palm cradled the unharmed side of it. It was wet with tears. “We could have loved tender—not like this—”

“Be quiet,” Kaveh pleaded. “You’re hurting yourself.”

Although he was scolding him, Alhaitham’s words raised flowers in his stomach. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about it—how they could have loved each other outside of the games. Inside the arena, their kisses were supposed to taste like blood and dust and agony, like the violence of starving creatures but back home, what would they have tasted like?

Would they have kissed in the kitchen, lips prickling with hints of saffron, ginger and apricot? Or would they have shared their intimacy only with the scent of fresh sheets and rosewater in Kaveh’s bedroom? Or would they not have bothered to hide at all and woven their love into every book read, every coffee brewed and every walk taken?

“Attention, tributes.”

Dottore’s voice echoed through the arena, louder than the known cannon shot. Candace woke with a start and Alhaitham tried sitting up but Kaveh held him back, clawing into his side with a scared yelp. Hearing the Harbinger was surreal. His words immediately snuffed out the heat of the jungle. They all exchanged a nervous look.

“The Tsaritsa invites you to a banquet. All of you are in dire need of something and our Archon of Love has provided it for you at the banquet table at the Cornucopia. The festivities start in four hours. Attention, tributes…”

The message was broadcast a second and third time until the voice ended abruptly and the birdsong of the Dendro square picked back up.

“A banquet?” Dehya scrunched her brows.

“We have seen these before,” Candace murmured. She looked like a ghost in her bed but Kaveh noticed with relief that her bandages weren’t dripping blood anymore. “They provide supplies for all the remaining tributes. It’s like a second Cornucopia fight. More scripted carnage. Dehya, you can’t go.”

“We have to,” Dehya jolted to her feet, already scanning their hideout for useful supplies. “It’s clear Cyno can’t help us anymore. But if the Tsaritsa has provided antibiotics, I’m getting them for you.”

“It’s too dangerous!” Candace protested, flinching in pain when she accidentally tensed her upper body. She fell back into the moss with a defeated sigh, sweat running down her temples.

“It’s worth it. Right, Kaveh?”

Her blue eyes were ablaze with determination, her resolve infectious. Kaveh dodged Alhaitham’s piercing glare. He got up from the bed and hesitated only, when he felt the other’s hand twisting the back of his shirt.

“You’re not…going…” Alhaitham gritted out.

“We need this medicine”, Kaveh shook his head. “And you can’t stop me.”

The grip on his shirt became tighter as if Alhaitham was challenging him, tugging him back. Kaveh pried his hand off and they both faltered when they realized how weak Alhaitham’s grip actually was. The hurt in his turquoise eyes might as well be a blade to Kaveh’s throat. But he couldn’t give in. Alhaitham needed that medicine, without it, he would never make it home.

“The others are fighting solo. And Sayu won’t give us any trouble. We clearly have the advantage here,” Dehya insisted. “You as our strategist has to see that, Haitham.”

“If you think I’m trusting you with his life—” Alhaitham spat out and forced himself to sit upright. The little colour left in his face drained immediately and for a moment, it looked like he was fainting. Kaveh shuffled closer and kept him upright with a worried gasp.

But Dehya was unimpressed by the display of pain before her. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and widened her stance: “Don’t f*cking insult me, Haitham. You saved Candace and I didn’t forget that. We are still a team, aren’t we?”

“Not much longer,” Alhaitham growled and his clammy hand curled around Kaveh’s thigh, pulling him in almost possessively.

“I understand,” Dehya canted her chin upwards in aggressive invitation. “After this, we part ways. But now we have to work together to help the two people we are in here for.”

Like two jungle cats prowling around each other, baring their fangs, neither of them wanted to take the first strike. Because under all the snark and attitude, there was the naked fear of having to kill each other—to attack a friend, a comrade, someone they wanted so desperately to trust. Kaveh didn’t dare to say a word until Alhaitham nodded.

“We’ll be quick,” Kaveh hurried to say. “In and out, we come straight back.”

“No fighting,” Dehya nodded. “Getting the meds and bailing.”

He saw the struggle on Alhaitham’s face, his brows pinched and lips pulled down in discomfort. His grip had grown soft around Kaveh’s shirt and the blond used the momentum to cradle his hand between his own instead. His thumb brushed over Alhaitham’s bruised knuckles.

“Nothing will stop me from returning to you, Haitham,” he whispered the same promise the other had given him before the arena, the one he had kept despite blood and slaughter. His voice grew hard at it like he was forging his own steel despite lacking a proper fighting technique. Would he really need a technique if their way of loving could carve him a way back just the same?

Alhaitham’s eyes locked onto his own, their stare unreadable with tears still hanging onto his lashes.

“You don’t fight. You run.”

“Yes.”

“Promise.”

“I promise. I won’t fight them. We get the supplies and run. We’ll be careful.”

“Kaveh…” he looked like he wanted to say something else and the blond, nervous that it might sway him into staying, pressed a quick kiss onto his lips. The soft, surprised grunt got swallowed by Kaveh’s tongue swiping over Alhaitham’s chapped lips before he pulled back with a nervous smile.

“You are worth it too, you know?”

“Kaveh—” his name bled into an agonized whimper as the sweat broke on Alhaitham’s face and Kaveh gently set him down on his makeshift bed. He resisted the urge to kiss him again, merely brushed through silver hair with trembling fingertips before he turned away. They were wasting time, the longer they stayed like this, the more Candace and Alhaitham would suffer.

“Let’s go,” he, therefore, told Dehya and she leaned down to kiss Candace on the forehead. She shouldered the backpack and handed Kaveh his mace, her club in the other hand. When Kaveh brushed the vines out of the way and revealed a glimpse of the quiet jungle, Alhaitham’s voice rattled through their hideout like a blade being drawn.

“If you return without him, Dehya—”

She hardened her shoulders. “I know.”

Kaveh allowed himself to steal a last look, entitled pupils latching onto Alhaitham’s features. His hand drifted up to the feather in his hair, tracing its delicate outline. Alhaitham’s face remained stoic, yet desperately fighting for composure until Kaveh vanished out of sight and he poured frustration and grief over his cheeks.

Chapter 24: the banquet

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - THE BANQUET

“I got your back.” - Dehya

Four hours until the banquet started and while the arena wasn’t as huge, the jungle would do its best to slow Dehya and Kaveh down before they then had to venture into the Hydro biome still taking ahold of the Cornucopia square.

Once again, they had gathered with Nilou, Aether and Lumine to watch, though they allowed themselves to rest. The many screens in the Mentor Control Room had revealed the tributes’ positions and no one was close to each other, everyone was immersed in their own problems after the brutal fight of last night. The Harbingers would give everyone a chance to gather their strength so they could create a nerve-wracking fight during the banquet.

And while the thought was terrifying, Tighnari allowed himself to ease the tension in his shoulders and consume a bit of the afternoon tea and biscuits Nilou had brought to their suite. On the TV screen of the common room, Dehya and Kaveh fought themselves through the vines and shrubbery. Kaveh led the way and pointed out Bouncy Mushrooms for a quicker path and talked about all the flowers and birds they spotted.

It instilled Tighnari with a weird kind of pride to see him like this. In the beginning, before he had accompanied Tighnari to his patrols in District 12’s jungle, Kaveh had freaked out whenever a huge bug landed in front of him but now he seemed eager to share the wonders of his home. It was as beautiful as it was heartbreaking. To see him like this, hair wild, blue feather gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the trees. Clinging onto a smile that was the last vestige of home he hadn’t lost yet. It had stopped reaching Kaveh’s eyes the moment Changchang had died. But his lips still curved upwards, sprouting a little dimple on his cheek.

Tighnari heaved an exhausted sigh.

“You should rest,” Nilou immediately said, looking at him with a reproachful gaze. “We need you during the banquet.”

“I know,” Tighnari emptied his cup of by now cold tea. Not that he would be able to help during the banquet if a fight happened. Cyno and he had used all their remaining mora to buy Kaveh the Mourning Flower petal in the hope of him understanding their hint. The sap milk had gifted Candace a peaceful sleep in their hideout, body still fighting against a rising fever but Alhaitham had refused the medicine. He was sweating profusely and sitting half-upright, staring down the cave entrance with eyes more or less focused. The clock was ticking for all of them.

Even if they managed to steal the medicine without getting roped into a fight, they had to cover the same distance they had come from, through water and jungle and, even worse, an arena out to kill them.

Tighnari got up, squeezing Nilou’s hand as he walked past her on the sofa and approached his room. The twins were drifting in and out of sleep. Their connections had brought them a few hundred mora and while he had pretended to be grateful, all of them knew it would buy them nothing, not this late into the games. Still, he appreciated Aether and Lumine hanging around for emotional support.

When he entered his bedroom, the rushing of water in the adjacent bathroom stopped. The door was open but a small slant, yet big enough for Tighnari to catch a glimpse of the mirror. Cyno stepped out of the shower, wet hair dripping down his muscular chest, rivulets of water chasing over his dark skin. Tighnari felt the heat rising into his cheeks and travelling downwards at the same time and hurried to turn around.

Them sharing a bathroom had happened because they always were at Tighnari’s suite anyway and his bedroom was the closest to the common room. They stayed in each other’s orbit as if a magnetic pull demanded it, unable to drift apart for longer than a shower or a quick nap. Hopelessly holding onto each other despite knowing they had to cut each other off soon.

Like Alhaitham and Dehya knew about the inevitable.

They never mentioned it, Cyno and him, how only one of their tributes would survive. Tighnari refused to think about Alhaitham and Kaveh’s death now that the banquet had been announced. Reason demanded he kept himself in check but his heart couldn’t simply stop beating for one of them or both—whatever would happen, would destroy him.

It would destroy his and Cyno’s relationship too.

If he was honest, Tighnari wanted to be selfish. Three of their friends would die and their alliance with them, whatever fragile bond Cyno and he had been able to weave would scorch their hands no matter how desperately they wanted to hold onto it.

But then there was this selfish, entitled feeling blooming in his chest whenever their gazes crossed. Like now, as Cyno stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but sweatpants and a white towel draped across his shoulders, hair still damp but eyes ablaze. It allowed Tighnari the foolish belief that someday, he would show Cyno the jungle of District 12. That they would sit down between tropical flowers and explore each other at a pace so slow, that even the moonlight would get bored of them. Two people no longer fighting against time and the tragedy it brought.

“I’m taking a nap,” Tighnari whispered and climbed up the huge bed. He brushed back the blanket, hesitating before he lay down. Cyno hovered near the door, looking into the common room where the rest of their team was watching the currently uneventful games.

“Join me,” Tighnari tossed his doubts away. “If you want.”

Cyno said nothing but quietly closed the bedroom door. His heart skipped a beat when he used the towel to dry his hair further and then put it on Tighnari’s nightstand before sliding onto the mattress.

There was enough space for five people in the luxurious Fatui beds but once again, they were drawn to each other, their hearts long rooted in each other’s souls, so Tighnari shuffled closer and Cyno ignored the second blanket in favour of joining him under his own. They rolled onto their sides so they could look at each other, cheeks bedded on their folded hands to keep them from reaching out.

Perhaps talking about it all was the smarter thing to do. They should form a strategy, reassure each other that whatever happened, whoever of their tributes died, they would still be there for each other but that was a promise they couldn’t give.

“One day,” Tighnari whispered because he wanted to indulge in that silly, sweet fantasy a little longer. “I’ll show you my favourite places in District 12.”

Cyno’s hand trailed over the mattress between them until his fingers reached the long, dark hair falling over Tighnari’s shoulder and onto the sheets. He traced one strand and then curled it around his fingertip.

“Is that possible?”

“Why not?” whereas Tighnari was playing, Cyno was genuine. His honest interest caused a dip in his stomach. He allowed himself to really think about it, then. “Victors can visit Snezhnaya at any time. Perhaps we find some loopholes that allow us to visit each other as well.”

“I’d like that,” Cyno murmured into his pillow.

“Me too,” Tighnari grabbed the hand playing with his hair, lacing their fingers. He brushed over the little scar on the crook between Cyno’s thumb and forefinger and smiled. With the blanket pulled up to their faces, it was easy to give into the thought of a peaceful future far from the bloodshed their world was made of. “I’ll show you the waterfall. And how it catches the moon every night, looking like out of a fairytale. One of my favourite spots.”

“I can’t wait to see your waterfall,” there was a familiar glint in Cyno’s eyes and Tighnari already knew what was about to come out of his mouth before he continued his terrible joke. “Would be a shame to mist it.”

“I hate you,” Tighnari groaned and let go of their entwined hands to push his palm onto Cyno’s mouth. A dark chuckle poured into his hand, accompanied by warm breath and Tighnari ignored the shiver it sent down his neck. Cyno was quick to grab his hand again.

“Get it? Because mist happens when the water falls—”

“You’re making this really difficult because I can’t shut you up with a kiss,” Tighnari blurted out, cheeks rosy from suppressed laughter as much as nervousness.

“What’s stopping you?” Cyno asked, feigning innocence. It was a good look on him. His stoic demeanour was reserved for the outside world but here, in their little cocoon of bedsheets and hope, he was the softest being Tighnari had ever laid eyes on. His body might still be hard and lethal but his gaze was unguarded, inviting him in without any fear.

“We said we would wait.”

“We did say that.”

“What are we waiting for, Cyno?” the words scorched his throat but he could no longer harness the flames. Tighnari gripped his hand tighter. “What is out there, waiting for us?"

There was no use in holding onto him and he knew it. And yet Tighnari squeezed him, clawed at him until his knuckles turned white because letting Cyno go meant letting go a part of himself the other had touched, carved himself into. Year after year Tighnari had come here and never let anyone in, had never allowed himself an ounce of pleasure or attraction because he had accepted, that life had other plans for him.

“What can we be apart from tragic?” he wrenched out, voice dangerously wet.

Cyno didn’t try to ease Tighnari’s grip around his hand but brought it up to his face, kissing those struggling knuckles with soft, innocent lips. It was a chaste kiss, too sweet to be a goodbye and too shy to be a confession. But when he lifted his gaze, red and alive, Tighnari felt it deep in his stomach.

“Tragedies only work when the characters in it are robbed of choice, Nari. I would always choose you.”

“How much time do you think has passed?” Dehya asked, squinting at the massive trees to spot the location of the sun in between the canopy.

“Three hours?” Kaveh took a guess. He had navigated them to the best of his abilities because he had scouted the Dendro biome once before but he still was unable to tell the time in the arena—it seemed to follow a different set of rules than the real world. Fact was, that his feet were aching and his muscles were tired from their trip through the jungle, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. The contents of their two water bottles had long yielded to the humidity of the biome but at least they would be able to fill them up soon.

“I f*cking hate this place,” Dehya sighed in annoyance and cut through a vine blocking their path before letting Kaveh lead again. The mace sat on his belt, a dagger right next to it. But other than that, he was travelling light. Although he had burned a lot of energy, his stomach was knotted with too much anxiety for him to feel hungry. Dehya was carrying the backpack with their water supply and her club, her shirt sticking to her sweaty skin. They both were still wearing their life vests, which made the temperatures even worse to endure.

“It’s not that bad,” Kaveh perked up when he spotted a glimpse of water between the trees. “Not as bad as what lies ahead of us, at least.”

“I hate that you're right,” Dehya groaned and together they crouched near the end of the Dendro biome and overlooked the dark waters in front of them. The small islands scattered throughout made it difficult for anyone trying to sneak close because even from this distance, they spotted the Cornucopia in the middle, glinting in the sunlight like the crooked fang of a beast.

“We need to get a better angle,” they were staring at the side of the Cornucopia but Kaveh was convinced, the banquet would be held either in front of it or inside to force their hands in combat. He gestured to the left and they snuck through the thicket. Dehya stayed close to him, cursing under her breath whenever the backpack tangled in a branch or vine.

The sun had wandered when they acquired a clear view of the Cornucopia. Their way back would be in darkness, most likely. Kaveh peeked through the leaves and jolted upright when Dehya put a hand on his shoulder. She shushed him with a smirk.

“Look, over there,” Dehya pointed at the mound of the structure. Whereas the Treasure Hoarders had stored their supplies inside the Cornucopia to keep it safe, now all the chests were lined up neatly to a pile out in the open. The lids were thrown open, the chests bursting with water, food and other useful stuff like tools and blankets. Kaveh perked up, leaning onto Dehya to get a better look. “Why do you think they put them there?”

“Bait?” if this was Albedo's doing - and it had to be, considering how sneaky and clever he had been during the games - then he’d rather cut off his hand than touch those chests. “Looks like a trap to me.”

“Or maybe the Harbingers did it because the banquet will be held inside the Cornucopia?”

Kaveh scrunched his brows and tried to think of past banquets. They didn’t happen every year but when they did, they ended in a massacre. Depending on the terrain of the arena, different spots not only the Cornucopia could be picked for it and usually, it was put up like one might imagine a banquet. A large table with a fancy tea cloth and the needed supplies on top in proper extravagant Fatui fashion.

“No. It was probably Albedo,” the thought of Albedo luring them closer to the Cornucopia with fake riches caused Kaveh to duck nearer to the ground. His heart was already running a marathon in his chest, his breathing quickening. Dehya noticed his anxiety at once and knelt beside him.

“We got this, Kaveh.”

“Do we?”

“Well, we have to.”

He couldn’t argue with that, so he hummed in agreement. The Cornucopia was still too far away. As much as he had the urge to hide, they needed to press on. He told Dehya as much and they took the route they had come to disappear from the opening and approach the structure from a better obscured angle.

Even with a life vest the water was deep enough to freak Kaveh out. They carefully dipped their feet into it as if they expected another mutation to rise to the surface but the Hydro biome lay in eerie silence, like a dark mirror stretching out until the Cornucopia. Dehya swam behind him, a lot clumsier than him, struggling to keep up and although Kaveh wanted them to be stealthy, their swimming skills were lacking too much. They could only hope no other tribute was close enough to spot them.

“Attention, tributes,” Dottore’s voice sounded from above. “The festivities start in one hour. The Tsaritsa wishes you a pleasant time at the banquet.”

They paddled from one ledge to the next and their inexperience paired with the equipment they had to carry caused them to be out of breath within a few meters already. They didn’t speak about it, though. They chewed on their last protein bar and pressed on. Kaveh had never felt as exposed as he did right now as he swam through the waters, turning his head every other second.

All Yelan had to do was perch on one of the rocks and shoot them down. It had never been easier. But the area in the Hydro biome was deserted. He started to believe that not all tributes would attend the banquet. Perhaps some of them were too injured like Candace and Alhaitham, or perhaps others didn’t want to take the risk.

When they reached the final island keeping them from the massive platform the Cornucopia was set up on, they both gulped at the air, clothes and hair drenched. Dehya spat out in disgust and tried to tame her lion’s mane with a ponytail whereas Kaveh lay flat on the stone and observed their surroundings.

Up this close, it was clear the supplies had been set up as some kind of trap. The chests were lined up at the edge, one step away from the water. But their arrangement left enough space for a banquet table to be lifted into the arena. Were the Harbingers already toying with them?

“Attention, tributes," the repetition of Dottore’s voice was enough to set Kaveh permanently on edge. The Harbinger might have been standing right behind him, his playful, gruesome tone a knife to his throat. “The festivities start in ten minutes. The Tsaritsa wishes you a pleasant time at the banquet.”

Dehya emptied her water bottle in quick sips, wiping her mouth, before she filled it again and attached it to her backpack. Kaveh checked his mace and dagger on his hip but they were still in position. He had no intention of using them.

“In and out," he whispered and Dehya crouched down beside him, staring at the mound of the Cornucopia, every muscle tensed. “Do we go together? Or only one of us?”

“You’re the better swimmer but we have no ranged weapons for cover.”

“Anything is a ranged weapon if you throw it hard enough,” Kaveh recalled Candace’s words and they shared a nervous chuckle. Their gazes met. Dehya had been injured by Yelan’s dagger as well and Kaveh’s bones were lead with all the grief they carried but they both sealed those emotions away now. “How about we go together and when someone else shows up, I run out with the medicine and you try keeping them away?”

“I like that. You’re a damn good sprinter.”

“Sadly not a good swimmer.”

“Perhaps they’ll kill each other and the terrain changes,” Dehya mused. “f*ck, I wish they were here with us. I’m not made for thinking up strategies on the fly.”

“The problem is that we can’t plan ahead because of the many factors such an event entails. There could be a—wait,” Kaveh cut himself off and perked up a little. The sunlight was still bright, setting the many riches near the ledge aglow but also exposing something else. The chest closest to them, filled with water bottles and food, something tributes yearned for the most, also harboured a tiny piece of wire. It coiled over the edge of the chest like a snake only to then vanish in the waters. Kaveh’s heart jumped up his throat, alarmed.

“Albedo,” he whispered.

“What? Where?” Dehya reached for her club but Kaveh pulled her behind the rocks for cover with bated breath. Albedo wasn’t one to engage in open combat. He had used the arena and its characteristics to his advantage once before, leading to the death of Razor and Bennett. The chests hadn’t been placed there by the Harbingers. No, Kaveh was convinced he was looking at one of Albedo’s traps again.

“There’s a wire attached to something inside that chest. Since it leads into the water I assume it’s some kind of electricity—it looks like it’ll get triggered the moment someone tries to steal from that chest and then will unload a shockwave into the water.”

“That’s fine, we don’t care about the chests,” Dehya argued. “We are only here for the banquet, remember?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Kaveh shook his head. “Albedo can decide he cares about the chest and trigger it the moment we flee with our supplies. We can’t leave without touching the water. So we need to get this wire away from the ledge to ensure a safe escape.”

Dehya observed the chest, her mind racing. Her eyes flitted from one bounty set out for them to another but when she found no other wire and no tributes, she sighed.

“Okay. Fine. Leave it to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You grab the stuff. I make sure no one can kill us.”

Kaveh wanted to voice his gratitude when the space in front of the Cornucopia not covered in chests suddenly opened up. Through an elevator, an extravagant banquet table was lifted into the arena. Multiple black bags with silver numbers were lined up neatly on top.

District 2, District 4, District 5, District 8, District 10, District 12.

The table was still surrounded by a force field, the energy an audible hum filling up the space. Kaveh scrambled close to the ledge and grabbed his mace. Without questioning it, he dropped it to the ground. The additional weight would slow him down. And he didn’t need it, he wasn’t here to fight. A dagger for emergencies would be enough. He put one knee up, getting ready to dive into the waters. The placement of the bags would make it easy to scoop them both up at once.

“Remember the wire,” he wrenched out, heart still pounding somewhere in his throat.

“I got your back,” Dehya whispered and he believed her.

There was nothing he could do right now but trust her. One of them dying here would make the games so much easier for the other. But their alliance had to persevere. She had promised it. Kaveh trusted her. During this moment, at least, he trusted her.

Dottore’s voice counted down from 10 to 1 and then the force field around the banquet dropped.

Kaveh jumped into the water and tried to remember the technique Tighnari had taught him. But when swimming the crawl wouldn’t work properly, he switched to languid breaststrokes, eyes fixated on the bags in front of him.

He hadn’t even crossed half the distance when the chest next to the rigged one started to move. Supplies, from tools to food, were pushed out of the way and Sayu’s small figure appeared in between the riches. She jumped out of the chest, darted toward the bag of District 8, grabbed it and dashed away.

Clever girl, Kaveh thought, allowing himself an ounce of relief when he saw her climbing up the Cornucopia with swift steps to get to the other side, away from the impending massacre.

At the same moment Kaveh hoisted himself out of the water, Chongyun, the teenager from District 5, barrelled into the table, knocking the bags 2 and 10 over with the force of it. Kaveh froze when he saw the impressive claymore on his hip but the boy hadn’t even drawn it. And then he realized that Chongyun simply couldn’t draw it because he had lost a hand.

The stump was wrapped in a dirty rag and the smell was enough for Kaveh to know nothing but Fatui medicine would be able to save the poor kid. Chongyun needed to hold himself upright with his remaining hand to move toward his bag, dripping wet and with a frenzied look on his face.

Kaveh reached the table when Albedo sprinted out of the Cornucopia. He, too, was wearing a weapon on his hip, a slender, elegant rapier, he hadn’t drawn yet. He ignored his District 2 bag under the table and grabbed the one from District 4 instead. Chongyun and Kaveh both froze when the blond pulled back his arm and threw Yelan’s bag into the dark waters.

He reached for Chongyun’s bag next. It was enough to awaken the teenager out of his stupor. He clung to his with shaking fingers, nails almost ripping the fabric as he tried to keep Albedo from tossing it.

“No, no! I need it! Give it to me! No!”

“KAVEH!” Dehya called from behind and Kaveh forced himself to look away. Their fight was not his business, it couldn’t slow him down. He dove under the banquet table and scooped up the small pouch for District 10 before he jolted to his feet and grabbed the one for Alhaitham.

Chongyun and Albedo were still wrestling. Dehya had pushed the rigged chest away from the water, enough for the wire to curl against useless stone.

“I got both!” he yelled and pivoted on his heel, sprinting past Dehya when a high-pitched scream stopped him right before the water. Run away. Run away. Run away—!

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t turn his back on her like that. Just like he hadn’t been able to turn his back on Collei, he couldn’t flee when this scream belonged to a frightened Sayu.

The little girl had been able to climb up the Cornucopia but it must have been trapped like everything else around here. Her small body had been captured by a net attached to the metallic structure. She was stuck right on top of it, set aglow by the ruthless sun and unable to escape due to the weight of the net. Her fingers laced through the mesh but it was no use.

Albedo kicked Chongyun off by ramming his knee into his stomach and threw District’s 5 bag into the waters before he turned to the Cornucopia, drawing his rapier. Dehya immediately stepped into his path.

“You leave that girl alone, you sick f*cker,” she raised her club.

“I’m going to free her,” Albedo canted his chin upwards in a quiet challenge. It was the first time, Kaveh heard him speak. His tone was almost detached, his face nothing but a sleek mask but there was honest concern in his eyes. Like Alhaitham trying to seem unbothered by Sayu’s presence, Albedo too was worried about her.

And that was when it dawned on Kaveh that the traps hadn’t been set up by Albedo.

His head whipped around, scanning the surrounding area. It was surreal how quickly he spotted her because she had no reason to hide. Far away from the banquet and the bloodbath, Yelan was perched on one of the cliffs emerging from the water. She held a bow, an arrow kissing the string already, eager to strike. The tip was aimed at Sayu’s head.

It was a long distance but Yelan was an excellent archer. And she had planned for it. She had planned it all and Kaveh had been too stupid to see it; how easy they were making it for her with Sayu up top, with letting her get out first, with being focused on each other when they knew there was a Treasure Hoarder still out there.

“Dehya, jump!” he called out but couldn’t wait for a reaction. Kaveh ripped his dagger from his belt and cut through Dehya’s life vest before pushing her into the water. She was so taken aback by his attack that she fell like a stone. Her hair vanished beneath the surface.

A hiss cut through the air as Yelan’s arrow passed them.

Kaveh ripped through his own life vest, curled around their medicine and threw himself into the water. The dark waves swallowed him at the same time the arrow hit Sayu’s right eye and activated her Pyro tracker, causing the Cornucopia, the banquet table, and the remaining tributes to explode into a wall of fire accompanied by a cannon shot.

Chapter 25: golden

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - GOLDEN

“Not like this. Don’t take him like this.” - Tighnari

The day was golden although the sheets were drenched in blood. The sunlight shouldn’t possess enough power to drown out the crimson woven into the silk but it did, setting him and his bed aglow.

Alhaitham had pulled the blanket over his head but the light was still present. It filtered through the fabric, seeped between every fold and caught in Kaveh’s blurry face in front of him. Hair a crown of gold, he lay mere inches apart from him. Dripping blood onto his mattress from the neck down but a smile brighter than any sun as he caught his gaze. Alhaitham narrowed his eyes, opened them wide, anything to get Kaveh into focus.

But his mind didn’t allow him that comfort. Kaveh’s red eyes were like heat haze, shimmering in an ocean of flames, two rubies about to melt. And his smile, there was no edge to it, nothing that he really meant it. Fleeting like a dandelion. Alhaitham tried lifting his hand but he couldn’t feel his body.

“Good morning,” Kaveh sighed and shuffled even closer, so Alhaitham went cross-eyed to get a good look at him. Their noses brushed. The scent of blood should be metal burning into Alhaitham’s tongue but Kaveh smelled…sweet.

Apricot and white nougat. Had he smuggled in some treats from the black market again?

Wait—no, they weren’t at home. They were—

“Hey, wake up,” Kaveh whispered into the corner of his mouth and Alhaitham heard someone else repeating the words from far away. Somewhere outside of this bubble of sun and sweetness, a lingering shadow behind the sheets. He managed to grab onto the blanket and kept it firmly over their heads. Kaveh giggled against his lips and Alhaitham opened his mouth to steal a taste of his saccharine scent.

But again, Kaveh’s presence became a blur. A flash of light, a glimpse of what would never be.

“Don’t leave,” Alhaitham reached out for him blindly, nothing but brazen light, golden and white, flooding his eyelids. The red crept in from the foot of the bed, drenching his ankles, his calves, crawling up his right side where flames had gnawed into the very bone.

Kaveh had never slept in his bed. They had never shared a mattress at home. This was a dream. Not real. The warmth disappeared as if someone was dunking him head-first into ice water but Alhaitham refused to come up. He fought against it, against the coldness and the hands gripping at his sheets, the voice demanding him to wake up.

And suddenly, Kaveh was back.

Alhaitham held his breath when the blond perched on top of him, still shielded by the white blanket around them both. Blue feathers were braided into his hair all over. His blood-soaked hands framed Alhaitham’s face like something precious. His chest was bare, not even binding tape in sight and he didn’t seem ashamed. Alhaitham wanted to praise him for it, to whisper how beautiful and proud he was and that he shouldn’t leave, that they should’ve been doing this a long time ago, sharing their mornings, their scents, their everything when Kaveh’s soft smile broke open on a pained moan.

His pink lips parted for a flood of red. The blood hit Alhaitham in the face in an endless stream and then Kaveh’s gurgling breaths were ripped apart by a cannon shot.

Alhaitham jolted awake with a wet scream. There was a metallic taste on his tongue and without looking, he tossed himself around and threw up beside the moss bed, heaving and shaking, dark dots in his vision.

Someone grabbed him by the shoulder and he whipped around but the movement was too fast for him to keep balance. He crashed forward and the other person caught him with a stressed sound, struggling to keep him upright. He fell back onto the moss. It was drenched. The sweet scent of his dream made room for the even sweeter stench of infection.

“It’s okay,” Candace appeared above him. “You’re having a fever. Not much longer, Haitham.”

His body felt like it had been ripped in half, his right side a pulsing, throbbing mess he didn’t dare to look at. There was no feeling left in his side and then there was too much, as if someone was pumping poison straight into the marrow. He couldn’t crane his neck without the skin pulling so taut he feared tearing it open. His eyes rolled uselessly in their sockets.

“Can…non…” he managed to get out after a fruitless attempt of levelling his breathing.

“Yes. Two cannon shots. But it’ll be okay. They are gonna be okay. They are on their way back and then we—” she stopped, her face pulling into a pained grimace as she put a hand on the wound on her shoulder. The bandage was dirty. Candace’s lips were blue. Or maybe that was only his fever-induced brain seeing things. “Soon.”

“Soon,” Alhaitham repeated. Soon. Please, soon.

He lost consciousness even before Candace could reassure him further.

The medicine, the thing that would keep their friends afloat, was transforming into his anchor, dragging him down as if the small bags were filled with stones. Kaveh pressed them firmly to his chest, sinking with them. His blond hair drifted above his head like seaweed as he sank, the last air bubbles escaping him and dancing up to the surface.

Above him, the world was ablaze. The explosion had been a dull, far away sound big enough to shake their surroundings but not strong enough to pierce the water. His lungs were empty. There was nothing to do but look up and hope. Kaveh didn’t dare to blink. He cradled the medicine against his heart and fought quietly, fiercely against the impulse to inhale.

Yelan had outsmarted them all. She must have known Sayu was carrying a Pyro tracker and refused to kill her when she found out. Instead, she had laid out a trap by positioning the chests and their riches and waited for Sayu to be clever about the banquet. And the little girl hadn’t disappointed her but walked right into it.

What had she gotten from her bag? More paint supplies? Had she been killed for the wish to hide until the world stopped crashing down on her?

He wondered if Sayu had even seen him. If she had been able to draw comfort from his presence in her last living moments before she had become another statistic of the Hunger Games. Unlike with Mika and Kaeya, he hadn’t been able to say goodbye. Hadn’t been able to help.

A small, detached voice told him it had to be this way. That giving the burden of killing her to someone else was the smarter choice. But Kaveh couldn’t bring himself to feel relief. There was no comfort in Sayu’s death being quick and painless. Even though he knew there was no reality in which the child could have lived, Kaveh couldn’t feel relieved Yelan had been swift.

Maybe because this way of thinking meant he had always been capable of sacrificing her if it meant for Alhaitham to come home. What did that say about him? Those thoughts, darker than the waters around him, had never been a part of him. Now they were etched into the walls of his throat and he spoke them with confidence. If Alhaitham wasn’t worth it—then you have to face yourself and what you did. If you hide behind him, it can be right still.

Kaveh’s lips parted and he struggled for breath.

He closed his mouth shut but it was too late, the water already streamed into his lungs. His body spasmed, his feet kicking at nothing. He wrapped his arms further around the medicine bags and curled into himself. His eyes were burning and his throat was too.

How odd, he thought faintly, that drowning was nothing else but burning up from the inside.

“Come on, come on—why isn’t it changing?!” Tighnari yelled at the TV screen. He was standing on the pull-out sofa in their suite, unable to sit down, perched on the edge as if he was one second away from lunging through the broadcast.

Cyno looked equally charged but he was currently trapped by Nilou’s shaking arms. The redhead was squeezing him so tightly it must hurt, while she refused to take a breath. Neither of them had been able to inhale once Kaveh and Dehya had disappeared into the waters.

Dehya was sinking quickly, thrashing around in panic and yet desperately holding onto her heavy club. Her backpack had long gotten lost. She flailed her arms and the weapon, air bubbles escaping her in a steady stream as she tried fighting back to the surface whereas Kaveh had curled himself into a ball.

Like a statue, he held onto the medicine, sinking into the darkness.

“Please, it has to change—they showed Albedo’s Geo tracker!” Lumine whimpered. She was kneeling on the ground, so close to the screen that she had to crane her neck to catch a glimpse of it. Aether was pacing up and down in the room, something at least one of them had been doing all day long. The large dining table was filled with untouched dinner, the servants quietly waiting in the background until one of them would decide to take a seat.

“Wait, there!” Aether screamed and all of them gasped in unison when the water level suddenly sank rapidly as if someone had pulled the drain stopper of a bathtub. Albedo’s burned body was being lifted out of the arena when his Geo tracker took its full effect. Sayu’s corpse had long been incinerated.

Chongyun, who had been swept away by a current created through the explosion, was thrown against a rock transforming back into a mountain, the impact shielding him from view as the rubble came down. Yelan had long retreated from the area.

But they didn’t matter.

No one mattered but Kaveh as Tighnari leaned forward in his position, eyes flitting over the screen with growing anxiety. Dehya appeared first, still clawing around her club, coughing up water and spit as she washed up at the newly created shore of the Geo biome. Apart from a few scratches she seemed unharmed. Her backpack was gone and with it, their supplies but Tighnari had the terrible, foreboding feeling that supplies apart from the medicine Kaveh kept close to his body didn’t matter anymore.

Cyno exhaled a relieved breath and even hugged Nilou back when she hid a sniffle against his shoulder. They all allowed themselves a smile when Dehya fought to her feet in safety. She looked around, brushing the wet hair out of her face before she opened her mouth, calling out for Kaveh.

“Please, please—” Tighnari pleaded softly even though there was no Archon left that would listen to him. “Not like this. Don’t take him like this.”

Two cannon shots. Sayu and Albedo. He wasn’t dead. He was still out there. But was he still fighting?

On screen, Dehya started to run. The water was still receding, so she was sprinting through a rill that would soon become the familiar yellow stone desert. The camera focused on her worried expression instead of giving away Kaveh’s location and Tighnari was close to throwing something at the TV when finally, the broadcast showed Kaveh.

He was still wrapped around the medicine bags like a savage animal trying to protect its young. Fingernails crusted with blood he had curled himself around the bounty, spine curved and knees drawn up. Dehya threw herself beside him and tried rolling him over.

Kaveh kicked out, hitting her shin but not hard enough to pry her off.

“Kaveh! You made it! f*cking hell, you made it!” she ignored the bags and grabbed him by the shoulder, finally able to turn him onto his back. Kaveh’s muscles surrendered their steely grip and he relaxed enough to cough up a burst of water. Dehya proceeded to turn him onto the side and Kaveh retched, the sound ragged and wet.

Dehya lifted him enough for his head to lie in her lap when he had exhausted himself and air was able to stream back into his lungs. She brushed away his golden hair and cracked him an exhausted smile. “We f*cking did it, azizam.”

Tighnari sank to his knees on the sofa and buried his face in his hands. On screen, Kaveh fought himself upright and threw his arms around Dehya’s shoulders, sobbing into her neck. She held onto him, hiding her own tears in his damp hair. The medicine lay between them like the treasure it was, shielded by their bodies.

The sofa dipped softly under an additional weight settling beside him and Tighnari recognized him from his harsh, alluring scent before looking at him. Cyno wrapped an arm around him and despite wanting to push him away, to push all of it away because their alliance was mere hours from breaking apart, Tighnari buried himself in Cyno’s hug, crying in relief and pain all at once.

“We made it,” Cyno repeated Dehya’s words and brushed through Tighnari’s long hair, stroking down his spine. “They got the medicine. They’ll be alright.”

Yelan. Chongyun. Dehya. Candace. Alhaitham. Kaveh.

This was a nightmare.

Tighnari lifted his chin enough to meet Cyno’s gaze and forced a smile. The dark pit in his stomach was spreading upwards, turning his beating heart into a chasm. The little hairs in his neck stood on end. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the 99th Hunger Games would end in the most gruesome way imaginable, a tragedy written by Il Dottore himself.

“f*cking hell,” Dehya kept repeating, lips pulled into a delirious grin. They were walking at a steady pace but both of them were too exhausted to break into a sprint. The way back would take a few hours and their water bottles hadn’t survived the biome change. They had given up on finding their backpack, both eager to reach Alhaitham and Candace so Kaveh had slung the pouch for District 12 over his shoulder and Dehya had done the same for District 10’s bag.

Before, though, they had checked the contents. Antibiotics for Alhaitham and Candace and an additional salve for Alhaitham. Dehya and Kaveh put all their faith into the little blue pills. They couldn’t afford to question themselves and their actions and yet Kaveh’s gaze drifted back to the remnants of the Cornucopia every other step.

The metal structure was able to withstand all the cruelties of the Gamemakers where the tributes had to surrender. Although there was dark residue on top of it, the walls were still intact, though the chests and their supplies had been burned away. Nothing was revealing a glimpse of Sayu.

Like she had never existed. Turned into smoke and sacrifice. Kaveh’s throat became tight and he swallowed down the bile. He stared at his feet, pretending to watch his steps but hid a stray tear behind his hair instead. By some miracle, the blue feather braided into it, was still in place. He started to see it as a metaphor for himself clawing onto that sliver of life granted to him until the inevitable end.

A piece of Alhaitham, of what they could have been.

“She went quickly,” Dehya said softly and her tone sounded as shattered as Kaveh felt. They both slowed down, hands brushing against each other to offer comfort. “She probably didn’t even feel pain.”

No, the pain was theirs to bear. It shouldn’t be them. It should be the Fatui watching, the ones who cheered over bloodshed and placed bets on their lives. But they would forget about Sayu once a winner was announced. Maybe they had already forgotten her death over a food commercial broadcast right after. Kaveh balled his hands to fist and quickened his pace.

“I hope so,” Kaveh murmured. Even if she hadn’t felt pain, he knew she had been terrified. Trapped like prey. Awaiting the mercy of her executioner. The bile in his throat now coursed in his stomach. He redirected his anger from the Fatui to Yelan. She was still out there and Kaveh would kill her himself. For Sayu.

“Archons, finally,” Dehya breathed out a laugh when they crossed into the Dendro square.

“I thought you didn’t like the jungle?” Kaveh teased weakly. He needed a distraction so desperately. Lacking his mace, he clumsily tried to push the vines out of the way with his much shorter dagger until Dehya gently steered him aside and took the helm.

“Call me a liar then,” Dehya smirked. “Feels like coming home.”

“Soon.”

“f*ck yes,” there was a spring to her step. She must be as exhausted as him but just like Kaveh, she pushed on for her loved one. Kaveh watched her shoulder blades dancing under her ripped shirt as she hacked away at the vegetation to carve them a way. Like molasses, his smile slowly dripped off his face. He adored her. Her strength and her loyalty, her confidence and bravery.

“Dehya,” he spoke up, unsure how to word this sudden surge of affection. The words came over his lips all scrambled, accompanied by a slight hitch in his breathing. “Thank you for doing this with me. For having my back and—”

“Of course,” Dehya turned around, still grinning. “You were amazing. We are a great team—”

She cut herself off and surged forward, grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking him out of the way. They both stumbled through the underbrush when someone else crashed onto the clearing, a massive claymore cleaving at the vines but aiming for them.

Chongyun was barely able to wield the claymore with one hand but that only made each swing more lethal as it was coming at them in an erratic pattern. His right arm ended in a bandaged stump but the gauze was sodden with blood; he looked like a ghost, no more colour left in his face, his eyes captured in a manic state.

“Give it to me—!” his voice was raspy, rattling like the bones that were all he was still made of. The blade came down mere inches from Kaveh’s leg and the blond threw himself to the side with a yelp. The medicine bag bounced on his back and Chongyun charged forward with a garbled scream.

“Get off him!” Dehya shrieked and lifted her club, aiming for a swing. She stared at the teenager and her weapon halted in the air, a flash of the past, of Changchang’s mutilated face, overcoming her. It was enough for Chongyun to land a hit, slicing through the remains of Dehya’s shredded life vest and leaving a shallow cut on her collarbone.

She howled in pain and landed on the forest ground. Chongyun was swaying on his feet so much, even though he was charging at her, he landed on Kaveh instead. His stump reached for the medicine bag before he realized there was no hand to grab it.

“Please,” Chongyun sobbed and Kaveh’s heart shattered.

Another teenager bleeding out all over him, another child reaped into the pits of the Hunger Games and there was nothing he could do about it. He wouldn’t give up the medicine. It tore him in two but he would not. He could not.

Kaveh managed to get his dagger between them and it slid into Chongyun’s upper arm as if the boy was already a ghost, the skin not fighting him, the muscles giving way. Dehya’s club smashed into the side of Chongyun’s head, throwing him off Kaveh.

The cannon sounded.

“Are you alright?” Dehya appeared above him, the lines of her face describing a picture of sheer terror Kaveh met in equal expression. For a moment, all they could do was stare at each other. They fought themselves into a sitting position, leaning onto each other.

“I used to protect them,” Dehya wrenched out, staring at Chongyun’s lifeless body. “Kids like him. All these kids in here. They used to be the ones I’d die for.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kaveh whispered. He knew it was a bleak phrase but he had no strength left to form a word of hope. He dragged his bloodied hand and the dagger over the moss to get rid of the crimson.

The plant was wet under his palm.

The realization was like a whip cracking over them both. Dehya rushed forward and rolled Chongyun over, revealing the blue Hydro-infused tracker in his neck. The jungle started to shake around them like something ancient had awoken underneath.

“No, no—no!” Dehya jumped to her feet, running her hands through her hair. Her club was discarded briefly, sitting next to Chongyun’s claymore in the grass. The grass that now carried drops that were more than morning dew. The ground next to them broke open and water started to climb up the created chasm.

The rising water level matched the anxiety surging up Kaveh’s spine.

Candace and Alhaitham were well hidden from Yelan but their cave was also a death trap. Neither of them could swim. Not even while being perfectly healthy. Alhaitham hadn’t even been able to speak properly, how was he supposed to climb out of there?

“They’re gonna drown!” Kaveh screamed in horror and speaking it out loud was enough to soar him into action, the realization throwing shocks into his legs. Within seconds, he was running, Dehya’s drumming strides right behind him.

There was no way they would reach them in time. They were more than an hour walk away from them. And now the jungle was falling apart, trees yielding to dark waters, waves ghostly hands picking flowers, currents sweeping away the vegetation. They had no life vests, no supplies, no more strength but they had to, they had to—

“Quickly, Dehya! This way!” Kaveh spotted a few Bouncy Mushrooms still visible on the surface, fighting the rising water. He pointed them out but never made it on top of one because something heavy crashed into his side and knocked all the air out of his lungs.

Kaveh landed in the wet grass of a small slope covered in Mourning Flowers. His lips opened to breathe but it was like drowning all over again. The impact had been so heavy, his ribs felt like shattered glass as his chest tried to heave.

Dehya appeared above him, tears streaking down her face. She held onto her club.

“You have a Geo tracker,” she said, the grip around her club white-knuckled whereas Kaveh was taut in fear. “I’m sorry, Kaveh. But I have to save her.”

“Dehya—” his voice was nothing more than a whisper yet all that could be heard. But it wasn’t enough. The club came down before he could finish his plea. Her name bled into a cry of blank terror. The heavy thud of the weapon caused the ground to vibrate.

“f*ck!” Dehya was crouching above him, hair and gaze wild. The club had landed next to his head. While the water was rising in his back, her tears rained down on Kaveh’s face. “I can’t—I can’t—”

“We need to run,” he was begging. High-pitched and desperate. But this was the Hunger Games and there was only scorched earth, not tender friendship. There was nothing, there couldn’t be. No pity, no compassion. Just Alhaitham. Kaveh’s fingers slid over the wet ground, blindly searching for his dagger. “D-Dehya we need to get up and run or they will never m-make it.”

She looked like she believed him and that was when Kaveh made the mistake of believing his own words too. They both clung to the cruel glimpse of hope because the alternative would destroy them. Dehya’s blue eyes were a storm, one rapidly expanding as they filled with black.

The bright spark of hope was gone. She took a second swing.

Their cave was flooding with water and Alhaitham wasn’t sure if he was still trapped in a fever dream. The earth growled and bent, causing Candace and him to fall over each other with every step, neither of them able to stand upright without help anymore. The fever was consuming them but not quickly enough; the water would douse them instead, pulling them into arms far crueller.

The cave had been tilted by the terrain shift, the opening of it now above their heads turning their hideout into a death trap. The vines hanging from the entrance were their only escape route. Candace was leaning against him with her full weight and tried trapping him between herself and the wall to keep him upright.

“Grab the vines, you can do it,” she urged him, bracing her hands against his back. Alhaitham's burned side was nothing but dead weight but his other arm tried reaching out. His fingertips brushed over the tip of a vine. It wasn’t enough.

“Wait for…the water…” he pressed out and slumped against the wall. The whole world was spinning around him, his vision fractured by black dots. He wanted to throw up and faint and simply cease to exist. The pain was unbearable, keeping him tethered to his consciousness in the most brutal way instead of releasing him into the dark. The cold water brought some relief but it caused him to grow only more unsteady, legs close to giving in and sinking into the waves.

“Right,” Candace breathed. “The water level will rise and we with it, we’re gonna make it.”

He wanted to laugh at her foolishness. She might be the only one still believing Dehya and Kaveh would make it back. But there had been three cannon shots and the odds weren’t in their favor. The mere thought was enough to create another wave of nausea in his throat so Alhaitham latched onto Candace’s so-called foolishness.

It turned from something to mock into something he needed to embrace. Like a soothing blanket, it wrapped around him. He caught her mismatched eyes, staring into the golden ring around one of her pupils. Candace stopped trying to keep him up with the little strength she had left and sank against him. Together, they slid to the ground and the water held them tightly.

And then, it brought them up.

They broke apart so they could reach for the vines to hoist themselves out of the cave. Alhaitham groaned when the cold water caressed his wounds. His whole body went slack for a blissful second, drifting in nothingness, the liquid numbing the ever-present pain. He forced himself back into reality and curled his hand around the nearest vine. It immediately slipped from his grip.

He didn’t have the strength to climb out, not even with the water lifting him.

Candace was doing better. She dangled onto the vines like a puppet and tried pulling herself up to the ledge when suddenly, the light filtering into the cave was covered by a mudslide.

The water wasn’t only filling up their cave but also rising from the forest floor outside and it removed the plants and moss as much as the fertile jungle soil underneath. Candace was hit by a stream of it and lost purchase, water splashing on impact.

Their instincts drove them away from the opening as more mud poured in, followed by plants and smaller stones and thick vines. Everything that turned the cleansing water into something lethal enough to encase them like amber. Alhaitham pinned his gaze to the opening. It seemed a mile away. They would drown in the jungle. In their home.

“Haitham,” Candace reached for him, her voice trembling in fear.

“I’m here,” he whispered but his hand couldn’t find hers, his movement too uncoordinated. He looked at her instead, tried to focus on the gold of her eye and the soothing blue right beside it. She forced her lips into a sad smile. The moment Candace stopped hoping was the moment Alhaitham knew they would die here. If even she didn’t believe in their rescue—

He tried ploughing through the mudslide to reach her, wanting to die together rather than alone when suddenly, their cave was filled by the sound of a cannon shot.

They somehow found each other then, two souls pressed close, shadows melding into one, lighting this last spark of hope, all that was left. The biome shifted once again and their surroundings rumbled like a starved animal. The water vanished and then the ground they were standing on was rising as the ceiling above them crumbled apart.

Alhaitham lost his footing and lost Candace as the world spun. He held onto whatever he could grasp, his stomach heaving. There was something trickling down his neck and he was almost convinced it was blood, the burn wound split open again. Around him, the green yielded to a barren yellow as the stone desert stretched out and cut down trees without mercy.

As his body was fading, Alhaitham’s mind came alight.

Dehya and Kaveh both carried a Geo tracker. Whose had been activated?

His logic told him it was Kaveh’s. Dehya was the better fighter, lethal in close combat and with a temper able to overcome the obstacle of camaraderie. Kaveh was compassionate, a bird with broken wings. Beautiful but defenseless. He had given his heart to too many of these kids, chipping away at his hull so Dehya only had to strike once.

But Alhaitham’s heart, oh, it was furious. Burning bright. Red rags and anger. Black blood and cruel, devastating, annihilating hope.

“Nothing will stop me from returning to you, Haitham.”

But this, he thought, fighting for consciousness on the rubble, this will stop you. Don’t turn me into a sin worth hurting for. Don’t tear yourself apart like this. I’m not worth it.

“You are worth it too, you know?”

Kaveh’s words were blooming in his mind, precious flowers turning toward the sunlight that was Alhaitham’s stubborn self. He wasn’t able to lift his head off the ground but he managed to blink into the distance when he spotted movement between the yellow cliffs.

“Oh, no,” Candace. She must be close by. Her voice was a wisp of whisper. About to be carried away with the breeze. Despite it all, Alhaitham’s heartbeat picked up. His view still refused to find a focus but he would recognize this ethereal, golden hair anywhere.

Kaveh was set aglow by the sunset behind him, the light casting a halo around his head while his body was dripping sin. One hand was holding a dagger, the other two dark bags. The rest of him was soaked in red. His feet dragged over the rubble, picking up the pace as he spotted them.

His face appeared above him and Alhaitham, again, was unsure if he was still trapped in a fever dream. Because again, Kaveh looked out of this world, his features splintered but exuding the raw beauty of a painting rendered by tragedy.

There was light all around him but nothing in Kaveh’s eyes.

Alhaitham sputtered when something was pushed between his lips. Kaveh pressed his hand onto his mouth, urging him to swallow and a faint voice told him it was medicine. Then Kaveh was gone.

“Nafasam…” he murmured and tried to move around, possessed by the sudden fear of losing him again. He caught Candace in his blurry vision, kneeling on the ground and baring her throat. Alhaitham’s brows furrowed. He didn’t understand—

“Do it. Quickly, please,” Candace said with her gentle, sweet voice. “I want to be with her.”

Kaveh’s dagger caught the sunlight, bleeding red and gold, as it slit Candace’s throat.

Alhaitham barely heard the cannon shot. It sounded far away as if Candace had already been long gone, one with the wind that picked up as her Anemo tracker activated. The breeze stroked through Alhaitham’s damp hair, gentle like she had been.

Just like in his dream, Kaveh appeared beside him, lying down. Just like in his dream, his hair was a crown of gold, a blue feather braided into it. Just like in his dream, he was dripping blood from the neck down.

But this time, there was no one left to wake them.