Hunger Games: Fandom Style

Two Roads Diverged

A/N: Fun fact: I hate writing fight scenes.
It has occurred to me that given that fact, a story set in the Hunger Games might not have been the best idea.
Oh, well . . .

They were down to nine. Gimli and Eowyn were holed up in their fortress. Merlin hadn't seen them since Eowyn's trip around the rusted old track, but there were no signs they had left. He'd caught a glimpse of Red as she went by the night of the full moon. What Baelfire was up to, he didn't know.
Will was still in action, as were Leah and Harry. Morgana had claimed another kill just yesterday. And, of course, Arthur was still in the Game.
It was time to go on the offensive. It would be risky though. Their weapons he could handle. Their magic was laughable.
The consequences, however, were not. There were too many connections this year, set up in a domino chain balancing on a high wire above a land mine. If Arthur was going to unite the districts someday, he couldn't afford to go around killing their darlings now.
An invisible assassin who could make death look like an accident however, would cause no problems at all.
He settled the invisibility cloak more firmly around his shoulders and scratched Arthur a note in the dust.
Going scavenging. STAY HERE.
It was a lie. After all the betrayals Arthur had suffered, he wouldn't appreciate that.
Of course, first he would have to find out.

Arthur did not appreciate being left behind like a child. He might not be the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, but he wasn't helpless either. He was tired of hiding. He was going hunting, and if Merlin didn't like it, too bad.
He grabbed his sword and set out.

Will was out of arrows. The last one had snapped when he'd tried to pull it out of the mutt who had been lurking just past the exit of the so-called "Haunted" Mansion. The whole place had been crawling with them, as had most of the alleyways after dark. Bats and wolves had been popular choices for mutating, although he'd also had to fight off some vultures who'd thought hunting was looking more lucrative than scavenging.
The fights had been satisfying. But they had also ultimately been pointless. No matter how many he killed, the Capital could always send in more. He was no closer to winning the Games, and he'd depleted his best weapon. Will could only imagine what Halt would say to that.
Cassandra was gone. If he wanted to hold the Capital accountable for that, he was going to have to do it in a way more meaningful than taking down a few lab rats.
He would have to win. After that . . . Well, surely he could get his hands on one last arrow.
In the meantime, he still had his knives. He was nearly as good with his throwing knife was he was with a bow, and if worst came to worst, there was always the double knife defense. He hadn't practiced that as much as he should have, but it might be enough.
It would have to be enough.
Will was going hunting.

Nine red dots glowed on the 3D map of the arena. Seneca Crane examined it approvingly.
Two red dots were about to intersect.
"Put a cannon on standby."

Movement. The faintest of rustlings, just past the corner. Silent as the grave, Will ghosted up to the very edge of the building.
He eased his knives out of their sheaths.
Then he whirled around the corner, saxe knife plunging towards Arthur's heart.

One moment the street was clear. The next Will had risen from the pavement to oppose him, blades at the ready.
His jumped back to avoid the attack. He was too slow to avoid it entirely. A thin line of blood dripped down his chest, but it hadn't more than scratched him.
He swung his sword with enough force to cleave the boy in half. Will was already gone, three feet away and ready to go another round.
Arthur shot a quick glance around the street. It was plenty wide enough to give them more than enough room to fight. It was absent of any notable features. It was lined with a sidewalk on either side and long rows of buildings that would be hard to break into quickly. No special advantages or disadvantages to be found in the lay of the land then.
Will's eyes were harder than he remembered them. More distant, less friendly. He suspected the pretty smiling face he'd seen in the sky that second night might have something to do with that.
Arthur lunged forward, blade swinging.
Will didn't dart back this time. Instead, he brought up his two small knives in a strange formation and caught his blade between them.
As if knives could ever stop a sword. A bit of strength would be all that was needed to push through the blades.
A bit more, apparently.
Surely.