*Trigger warning for self-harm*

6 months after the conclusion of the 126th Annual Hunger Games

-Numitor Demetriou-Lawrence, 16, The Victor-

It had been the longest six months of his life.

He thought that the Games were the worst of what would happen to him, he was wrong. He was so wrong. From the moment Anakyn read his name, Numitor had sealed his fate, but he never thought it would be this hard. He knew that he would never see their faces again.

And, worst of all, he knew that he had volunteered with the intention of seeing them all die so that he could live. He went in knowing that he was going to try to win. Throughout the pre-Games, his assurance that he could do it started to slip. Why did he volunteer to be thrown into the Games at sixteen, with no real formal training?! Why did he agree to be the voice for the whole nation when he still felt the urge to ask to use the restroom?

Numitor had volunteered to be reaped and go into the Games because he believed he was doing the right thing. The Capitol was shaken when one of their own was reaped for the 125th Hunger Games and was slain there. People were starting to see that the Capitol's games weren't just, now that it was their own children that had been thrown into the mix. Numitor may have grown up in the Capitol, but he was born in District Three. It was a fact he thought would remain a secret for as long as he and his two siblings lived.

He was wrong.

Numitor wanted to further the cause, and after he got famous for being involved with one of the tributes last year during the infamous love twist, this was the perfect opportunity. He was already famous as being the poor Capitol boy that fell for a tribute. Now, he was a tribute himself. Not even a tribute. A Victor. They wanted him to talk for the cause. They were hoping that he could unite the Districts and the Capitol against the Games.

Numitor was sixteen. He had lost both of his parents, and his first love, but he had never seen death in person like that before. He had never smelled the blood, felt it on his hands knowing that it was fresh. He never watched the light leave anyone's eyes before. Now he had.

Ever since winning, Numi had so many people that were telling him what to do. He may be trying to free Panem from an oppressive president, but Numitor had so many people telling him what to say, how to act, what to do next, that he couldn't help but feel like a playing piece. Like one of the checkers, that had just been kinged and was now sent after all the opposing sides' checkers. But, even if you have a king, it can easily be outnumbered and surrounded. Numitor was just one person, and he wasn't a superhero. He was still trying to figure himself out and now he had to be the face of dissension: a dangerous game to be playing.

District by District went by, and Numi had to read the coldest, most curt words he'd ever seen with his own eyes. The cards themselves were the only things left trying to justify why Numitor was alive and their children weren't. It made Numitor fear that it would turn the Districts against the Capitol. All they could see him as was a Capitolite that had caused the deaths of their children.

District Twelve wasn't hard, Eleven was fine. Numitor hadn't personally faced any of those tributes. Ten was okay too, those tributes were mysterious and he really didn't know much about them. Did that make it easier to tell their families why he was here and they weren't? Hell no.

The more cards he read, the more he realized that they were made with a sense of Capitol elitism. They basically said, I'm here because I'm a Capitolite and that makes me more worthwhile than your children. The more he read, the more he hated what he was saying. The more he read, the more he realized he was already contradicting himself. This wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't what he wanted to say. He didn't want to be apart of the Capitol's power play, but until he had his own voice, he would never be able to express what was really in his heart.

Numitor stopped looking at the families when he reached District Nine. Virgil, the boy from that District, had killed Numi's ally, his District partner. Numitor attacked and killed him immediately after. He never thought a thirteen-year-old would be so sneaky and dangerous. The Games really brought out the worst in people.

District Eight's tributes both fell in the Bloodbath. Numitor had talked to them though. Azaria, the only twelve-year-old, acted far tougher than she really was. Her District partner Trent was shy and quiet like Numitor, and trying to recruit Numi and Montessori to join their big alliance of younger tributes. Numitor knew he couldn't possibly stand to get involved and a large alliance and lose them all, so he declined.

Numitor had been to District Eight before, for the funeral of Semper, his first love. Being there hurt ten times more when his eye caught Paisley, his sister. She had been kind to Numitor. And now he was here, standing on this stage and saying such horrible things. Numitor left the District in shame.

Numitor was doing alright, not good by any means, but alright, until he stepped out on that stage in District Seven and saw the towering trees covered in snow.

The girl, Miladena, was sly, and Numitor considered making her his ally, but he couldn't say no to the thirteen-year-old girl that had been attached to him since day one.

Numitor didn't want to read these words. The very thought that the Capitol will use his Victory to tighten their grip on the Districts was disgusting to him. Anakyn told him to play it safe for now, read the cards that they provide, and that they would use his voice when it was a little bit safer to do so.

He knew that Anakyn was worried about Numi's siblings, Aristotle and Trixie. Numitor was worried about them too. They were twelve and five, they didn't deserve to die because Numitor said something stupid. He knew that they'd have to take the risk sometime, but sometime when he could be more subtle about it.

Numitor made himself look at the family and friends for the male, who he had killed in the finale. It must have been heart-wrenching to watch him place second. Todd was on offense for most of their battle, Numitor just had a strong defense. Todd was able to mark Numi up, but Numitor had placed a stab on his chest, and Todd Malloy collapsed. All it took was one opportunity. It wasn't fair, but Numitor was going to end the Games, he was going to fight for Todd.

Still, he didn't blame his family for the glares they were sending his way. Numi was so pitiful and they all knew it. Numi stayed focused on his family and read the card word-for-word. He ran off the stage the second the last syllable of his name escaped the mayor's lips.

He knew where he was supposed to go, to the stylist's room to get dressed up for District Six. He couldn't go there. He pushed past Anakyn and his mentor Tav and went straight to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and clicking the lock.

Dammit, he had been doing so well. He had been doing so well with being strong, but he knew that he couldn't be strong forever.

Strong, strong, strong, everyone always expected him to be strong. He wasn't strong, though. He was just a broken person that refused to die. He wasn't strong, he was weak. He couldn't stand the thought of showing anyone his weakness, he hated it.

Tears rolled down Numitor's cheeks as he threw on the shower, hoping that the noise would muffle the sound of him crying.

The handle was being jostled just as Numitor had rolled up the shirt off of his side and belly. God, the belly he shouldn't even have, because everyone else in the nation was starving.

"Numi!" Anakyn yelled. He wasn't stupid. He knew that Numi wasn't showering. "Open the door."

"Yeah, not happening," Numitor said, voice shaking as he pulled out the razor from his pocket. It was a shame, because the other cuts were just starting to heal and become itchy, and now he was going to ruin that like he already ruined everything else. Like he ruined everything he touched. There was absolutely no reason why he was alive and Todd Malloy wasn't. No reason other than a lucky shot.

"Numitor!"

"I'm taking a shower!"

The lock started clicking and Numitor swore. He knew that Anakyn could easily pick it, but he was hoping the escort didn't have the supplies to do so, sending him on a hunt, that would give Numitor time. Numi didn't care, though. It was an itch he couldn't let go anymore, and if he had to do it knowing that Anakyn was on the other side of the door, he would. It was the only way he could hide his weakness. He couldn't let anyone else see. It was his own secret punishment for not being good enough. If he wasn't good enough then it was all worthless up until this point. Weak, weak, weak.

He traced a line on his hip, letting out a strained cry he couldn't keep quiet because he wasn't strong like the others.

"I swear to God Numitor!" Anakyn said, and Numitor could hear that his teeth were clenched.

"Just leave me alone! I'll be out in two minutes!"

The clicking of the lock didn't stop. Numitor traced another line on his pale skin and clenched his teeth as the blood started to drip out. Blood that should have been shed in that Arena. Numitor pressed a washcloth on it, wincing. He heard the voices of his prep team through the door and knew that he'd have to get it to stop bleeding. God, this was a horrible idea. This was a horrible idea and now everyone was going to see he was weak...

Numitor quickly pulled up his boxers and pants, relieved that they seemed to hold the towel in place as the door burst open and his escort ran in.

"Numi! What the hell are you doing, we were all worried?!"

Numitor sniffled and dried his eyes. "I'm fine. Just had to cry it out."

"No more time for tears!" his head stylist whined. "We're five minutes out from District Six."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Anakyn could see through his lie, but there was nothing he could do about it, because soon his prep team was whisking him away to get him ready. Numi felt horrible for lying so blatantly to the person he'd grown up being close friends with, but the thought of Anakyn- or anyone- knowing the truth was worse than the thought of lying about it. He would just have to keep pushing the guilt away, like he did best.

He asked to change himself, then insisted, and hidden by the privacy of the curtain he could put more pressure on the wounds. Just so that they wouldn't bleed through his boxers... He ended up keeping the towel on. The new wounds stung and itched throughout his speech. But it was what he deserved. He was causing so many people pain that he deserved to be in pain too.

District Five was slightly harder, because Numitor had met both tributes. The female tribute, Austin, was Todd's ally. Stanley, the male tribute, was the head of the large alliance that Trent had tried to recruit them for. By the end of Five, the wounds had slowed their bleeding, and Numitor took the towel out so that he could face his stylists again. Thankfully he was allowed to keep his boxers on, and hid the bloody towel in one of his pockets. He couldn't let it go. If anyone were to see... God, that was a dumb decision.

District Four was one of the easier ones. Both were Careers. Percival was one of the most outspoken of them all, beside the District One boy, Trap. Numitor felt bad but was glad that they were both dead. After returning to the Justice Building, Numitor stuffed the bloody towel under a couch cushion when nobody was looking. He felt bad but couldn't stand the anxiety of carrying it around. He already had the scars to carry.

District Three was by far the worst. Montessori was only thirteen, and was his ally. They were friends. They were very similar: observant, bright, far from innocent. They were snuck up on by the boy from Nine and just like that Montessori was gone. Numitor had gotten his revenge, but that didn't make it any easier. He had to stand before them, a Capitoilte in their eyes, even though he had been born in their District.

After that nightmare was over and his cheeks were dry, it was easier. District Two had two tributes that were vicious and trained to kill. Numitor didn't feel bad saying goodbye to Marlena and Auriel, but he was put off by how happy they were to see him there. District One was very much the same. It was home to Cure Gallagher, who was killed by the girl from Two, and Trap Principato, a seventeen-year-old that was apparently thrown in after the number one from the eighteens gave up the spot. He was a Games freak, Trap, it seemed that he was invincible. Even his teeth were sharpened, like one of Two's most notorious Victors. He was inspired by them. Numitor didn't feel as miserable, but he was glad it was over.

Then, the train was heading towards the Capitol, towards Numitor's family. His step-father Cupid, and his siblings, who he was dying to see. He wasn't excited by any means, but he was ready to see his family.

Before the train even stopped, though, he heard Anakyn shout as two large Peacekeepers loomed over him, and before Numitor could even try to help his vision was distorted and he was being carried away.

He tried to let out a scream, but he heard a familiar voice. "Calm down, it's just us. Now don't make any noise." He swallowed hard and reluctantly stumbled after Cerena, who was guiding his every step.

When Numitor's vision was uncovered, he had no idea where he was. It was a dim corridor that was filled with the echoes of screams.

"What the hell Cerena!?" Anakyn asked, as his fellow escort removed her helmet. The men who had taken Anakyn revealed themselves to be Ashton, Cerena's husband, and Wolf Jansing. Friends, not foes.

"I'm sorry Anakyn. I am just as discombobulated as you, I promise."

"Where are we?" Numitor asked, feeling so very small. "What's going on?"

"A new development," Cerena said. "Follow me."

She lead them into a room, towards where the screams were sounding. Numitor ducked back so that he could stay close to Anakyn. He wasn't sure how he felt about the others, but he had one person he could trust.

Numitor's eyes widened when he saw the sight of the boy in the bed, screaming and fighting against bonds that were holding him against the bed. He was yelling as if he were in pain. Numitor's heart pounded harder as he realized he knew that voice.

"Impossible."

Numitor didn't enter the room, but the others did. He couldn't stand to see it. He couldn't stand to face it.

"Let me go!" he shouted, and Numitor ducked away. He didn't want to go in. This couldn't be happening.

"As you can see-"

Numitor heard the sound of a snap, something breaking, and the clatter of the bed shaking. "I have to get back to her! Camellia!"

"He broke the bonds again," Cerena said, sounding oddly calm. Bring the sedation." Soon, some people in masks came in and the screaming soon quieted and stopped.

"Come in Numitor." Slowly, the Victor entered the room where Todd was laying still. But breathing. Very much alive.

"He should be dead!" Numitor said, not sure how to feel. How is this even possible?!

"I think you'll all be glad to know that we have some... New conspirators."

Numitor's eyes widened as a door from the back of the room opened and Lux Hastings, the Head Gamemaker, entered. He was all dressed up for the party that would be happening within a matter of minutes.

"Nice to see you again Numitor," he said, smiling slightly. "Anakyn."

"Lux?! What the hell is going on?!" Anakyn asked. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I didn't even know until Wolf approached me about it," Cerena confessed.

"We didn't know about you either," Lux said, laughing.

"How?" Numitor asked.

"A little help from a biomechanical engineer," Lux said, smiling at Wolf. "We programmed the chips a little differently this year, so that they'd go red when the tributes' heart rates slowed, but didn't stop. We saved as many as we could."

Numitor looked at the bed, in shock as Todd's chest rose and fell.

"We can't let them go back home though," Wolf said, sighing. "Not without risk of them finding out and harming someone." He brushed the sleeping Todd's bangs out of his head and took a deep breath. "Poor dudes."

"What are you going to do with them then?"

"Witness protection, send them out as Capitolites."

Numitor frowned and looked down at the sleeping boy. All he wanted was to go home, and he never would. Numitor wondered if he would have rather died.

"That's... Pretty amazing, actually." Numitor laughed a little.

"I could have helped," Anakyn said.

"I know, and we're still in need of your talents. What do you say to being on the styling team that makes these tributes unrecognizable?"

Anakyn smiled and nodded. "I've always been interested in being a stylist, so I'd love to help."

Numitor saw a face he recognized peeking in the doorway, but when he looked back, it was gone. He should stop hoping oh God there she is.

The moment he saw the little girl with dark skin and dark hair braided back smiling at him, she ran over to hug him.

"Montessori!" he said, laughing. She was alive. She was laughing too. Numitor's eyes filled with tears, but this time they were happy.

"I missed you!" she said. She seemed in high spirits, Numitor observed, which relieved him. He was glad she was happy, even though she was being kept here. As soon as she let go of Numitor, she hugged Anakyn too. The escort had gotten attached to her, and looked just as happy to see her as Numitor did. It was a moment of joy.

"Realistically, these were the only two tributes that had a shot at being saved. But-"

"Who had a party and didn't invite me?"

Numitor physically cringed at the voice, and when he looked up and saw that smirking face in the doorway he physically tensed.

Trap walked in, smirking. "I'm back from the dead! Surprise!" He ruffled Numitor's hair, and Numi ducked out of his touch.

"Back off of him asshole!" Anakyn said protectively, standing in front of Numitor and Montessori.

"Careful now... Wouldn't want to anger a zombie." Numitor wanted to scream. Why couldn't they just let that one die?

"We have no idea how, but Trap made a miracle recovery," Lux said.

"Unfortunately," Numitor said under his breath, and felt bad immediately for saying it.

"What can I say? I'm a fighter," Trap said, that annoying smirk showing off his sharpened teeth. "You all couldn't get rid of me."

Numitor took a deep breath to prevent making any other noises.

The last person to peep into the doorway was none other than Piccolo Wallace, the Games interviewer. They were looking sharp, obviously ready for the party.

"They're expecting you at the party now. We have to get back there, pronto."

Cerena gave them all an apologetic look. "We've used all the time we could. You'll certainly be invited back, but for now we have to go."

Numitor gave his District partner and friend one last squeeze and gave Todd one last look. He tried to avoid looking over at the boy from District One, but that didn't stop Trap from saying a cheerful, "Goodbye Victor! Go enjoy your party, and the ass that comes with it!"

Numitor was still in shock, but now wasn't the time for that. Now was the time he would finally get to see his siblings and step-dad again, after all.

And knowing that he wasn't the only survivor of his Games brought a real and genuine smile to Numitor's face.

~.~.

A/N: So, we're starting right into all the craziness of this story's subplot and all! This is kind of a heavy prologue, lol, but the rest are going to be way lighter, I promise.

So, welcome to my third full SYOT, Whims of Fate! If you were involved in any of my partials or full SYOTs, welcome back, and if this is your first taste of my writing I'm sorry it was so dark but also welcome! XD

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First Chapter Question: First impression of Numitor and the three tributes that survived?

Next Prologue: Lux meets his new assistant.

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