Hunger Games: Fandom Style

To the Pain (Other)

Author's Notes: So, in case you haven't figured it out yet, it was NOT three chapters until the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. The characters demanded more time and space to tell their story than I had originally planned to give them. I hope you'll forgive me for postponing the inevitable deaths of the characters. It will come eventually. I've just learned my lesson about specifying the when. And yes, the past few titles have been inspired by the Princess Bride, however could you tell?
On a totally random note, has it occurred to anyone else that the Status Quo song from High School Musical, if adapted, could fit the Hunger Games perfectly? Replace Sharpay with Snow and it might just work . . .
Right. Story time. This chapter parallels the last one. It takes place at approximately the same time and just covers some viewpoints that didn't fit cohesively with the last chapter's arc. A dash of Will, a gallon of Merlin, a cup of what ifs . . .

Will stepped out onto level 7. Cassandra was still down there chatting with the remnants of the crowd. Will had felt uncomfortable amongst so many people once the crisis was over. He was more sociable than most Rangers, but they were a fairly solitary group as a whole. Some of their habits and paranoia had seeped into him after a lifetime of living with Halt. He'd enjoyed talking with Arthur today though. Maybe he should see if he was interested in teaming up, if Cassandra agreed to it. It would be nice to have someone like that protecting his back instead of hunting it. He'd seen that guy with a sword. He wasn't particularly eager to go up against him hand to hand, double knife defense or no.
Their escort was nowhere to be seen. He wondered vaguely where she was and if Halt was with her.
A loud pop, well, popped. Halt would never have let him forget it if he'd heard that piece of eloquence. It was a good thing Halt only acted like he could read his thoughts.
"Halt?" he called.
A groan answered him from the living room. Will took off running, hand reaching for an arrow that wasn't there. He cursed and grabbed the first weapon he could, a wooden ladle in the buffet that had been laid out for their dinner. "Halt!"
He burst into the room. Halt was crouched on the floor, clutching that stupid green table for support. His other arm was wrapped around his ribs. No enemies were evident.
Will rushed forward. "What happened? Where are you hurt?"
"Have I ever told you," Halt said hoarsely, "that you have a bad habit of asking questions in pairs?"
"Have you ever wondered where I got the habit from?" Will eased Halt up. "Now answer my poorly mannered, paired up questions."
Halt grimaced as Will helped him onto the couch. "Bad news," he gasped.
"What?" Will asked tensely.
"The Corps is going to have to change its policy on magic."

Merlin folded the cloak up and slipped it inside his shirt. He wasn't letting this prize out of his hands for a moment. He stepped onto the 11th floor.
Morgana must have beaten him up here. Her shoes were lying near the television.
Plus, she was screaming, so that was a bit of a tip off.
They had been enemies for years, but there was something about the sound of a woman's scream that tugs at every human instinct. Merlin was running towards her before he knew what he was doing.
Morgana was standing outside of Nimue's bedroom. The door was open. Nimue lay across the threshhold, blood streaming from her fingertips.
He shoved past Morgana and knelt next to her. "Nimue?" Her eyelashes fluttered.
The elevator dinged again. Arthur must be coming up. "Go take care of him," Merlin ordered. "I've got her." Morgana was too shocked to defy him.
Actually, he probably could have used a little help getting her to her bed. He had to half drag her, until he remembered there was no good reason not to use magic.
His eyes flashed. Much better.
Blood spilled from numerous cuts up her arms. "Convelsca," he said quietly, healing the cuts one by one.
She came to herself when he still had all of one arm left to go. "Merlin."
"Who did this to you?"
"Snow's men. He wants to know more of the mysterious Emrys."
Deja vu was something of an old friend by now. It was a useful one, as it never went and died on him. It still didn't stop a chill from gripping him. "What did you tell them?" he asked. His grip on her arm tightened.
She smiled. "I told them they could go jump in the Lake of Avalon. I don't know why they got so upset. It wasn't a bad hint."
After a thousand odd years of life, not much surprised him anymore, but this week had been full of them. He had to swallow past the lump in his throat. He hadn't realized Nimue cared. He got back to work on her arm. "Thank you," he said at last.
She looked up at him. "You're the only hope for our kind, Merlin. And you've been there, every time I or one of the others came back. Every death, every alliance, every triumph and defeat, you've been there. Our feud was an amusing way to pass the time until Arthur returned, but if Snow thinks I'll betray you to him because of it, he's wrong."
He'd healed the last of the cuts. "And Morgana?"
She sighed. "I thought I could save her. But her fate is written large in the stars, and she follows it wholeheartedly. You were right, Merlin. Every time, she comes back angrier."
"I know." He stood. "I'll let you rest." He squeezed her hand. "Thank you, Nimue."
Morgana and Arthur were waiting outside the door. "She'll be alright," he said tiredly. Morgana hurried past him to check. He nodded to Arthur and headed towards his room. He needed to sleep.
Arthur followed him. He stopped in the doorway. "You used magic to heal her, didn't you?"
"Yes." Strange how things had changed over the years. Her first death had been on his hands. First three deaths more like. It had taken things a while to change, but after a while it would have been impossible for them not to. It was hard to fight the last of your kin in the midst of a world that no longer believed in you, especially when the reason for your quarrel was long since irrelevant.
Arthur nodded. He looked worried by something. Was it the magic? Merlin well remembered how much he had mistrusted it the first time around. He had changed his mind, but only about a day before his death. It might not have stuck.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
Arthur waved a hand. "All of it. Most people don't call in a favor in order to sneak aboard a train and plot how they can invisibly follow the person who volunteered for them around in the arena."
"Well, when you put it like that . . . "
"I'm serious, Merlin. Why?"
He had the right to know. He'd think Merlin was crazy, but he had the right to know. "Come on inside. Shut the door behind you."
"Why?"
"This isn't the sort of conversation we want someone stumbling into. Trust me."
Arthur glared at him, but he did it. Merlin started talking.
By the end of it, Arthur was staring at incredulously. "So you're saying in another life I was some kind of uber-president called a king who ruled a place called Camelot, and that you and the other people from that life have been periodically popping up throughout history, but now that I'm finally back, I'm going to fulfill some sort of crackpot prophecy that says I'm going to unite the districts against the Capital and legalize magic."
"Close. The others have been popping up throughout history; I'm just immortal. And the prophecy isn't crackpot."
"Oh, well, in that case, it makes perfect sense."
"Really?"
"No, you idiot! That's the craziest thing I've ever heard."
Merlin looked at him. "The first time we met, you were using a serving boy for target practice. I stepped in to try and stop you, and you tried to take my head off with a mace."
Arthur froze. Merlin went on. "I hated your guts for weeks, but I also saved your life, so your father made me your manservant. Your father tried to make peace with a man called Bayard. You made me wear the stupidest hat I've ever seen. I thought you were about to be poisoned, and your father made me drink from your cup to prove it. It was. You defied your father and went on an insanely dangerous journey in order to get the antidote. I think that's when we started to warm up towards each other. You've got to remember, Arthur, you have to."