Warning: Mentions/illusions to SA, mentions of blood, gore, mentions of past games.
A Change of Plans: Previous
A/N: OMG I’m alive??? So many people requested a part two and I finally got around to writing. Between how busy life is plus writers block I promise I’m not ignoring the requests in my inbox <3 i appreciate all of your patience and I really hope you enjoy, this was a lot of fun!
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You never for one moment had thought that you’d be back here. Not like this at least. Of course you had been a mentor for years. You had did your best to keep the kids alive, to try to at least bring one home each year. But like many of the other districts, not many did.
You remembered their names. Their faces haunting your dreams every night when dreams of your own arena decided to give you a break.
The dreams started off kind at first. But then as usual, they turned awful. Dark. Bloodied. Murderous. The smell was thr worst part. It all felt so real, that you could still smell the flesh and blood even after waking up.
All of it reminding you of the failure to save them. Most of them at least. Celia was one of the ones you were able to save. Now a mother, she had her life ahead of her. At least as much of a life a victor could possibly have.
But that’s why you always kept to yourself. Always. For the most part at least. You always kept your head down. Did as Snow asked of you. Continued to put out clothing lines the Capital thrived off of. Played the happy shy girl until you grew up and the Capital had new toys to play with.
Like Chasmire.
Like Finnick.
You had been spared. Too shaken too meek. Not desired enough by the Capital to be sold off to. Though you supposed that was a blessing in disguise. A blessing that you didn’t get called on. Used by greedy hands and dropped back off on the train to go home.
But that didn’t protect you completely. Even now, after so many years after your own victory. You still returned to the Capital often. For parties, fashion shows, interviews, collaborations, meetings, work ups. It was exhausting.
It was always exhausting.
But it Haymitch soothed it.
It was rough at first. For a few years at least. Both young and scrambling to learn how to live with the content losses. The loose mentoring as the both of you were kids yourselves. Dealing with the aftermath of your own traumas—though dealing in very different ways.
It had taken years for you and Haymitch to become friends. Even longer to be lovers. With knowing how the Capital worked, you both knew Snow would do anything to use each other against one another for something.
So you both kept it close and quiet.
Your own little peace. A little get away from the bright lights, and the constant cameras. It was something that was purely your own that no one could take.
But somehow, even without knowing? Snow had exactly done just that by putting you in the Games and not Haymitch.
You had known what was being planned by the rebels. Especially being from District 8, you had seen it yourself how fast that fire is spreading. And once the Quarter Quell had been announced? You knew the poor girl, Katniss, who you had been able to see and meet and call, was being thrown back into the games. And sweet Peeta refusing to let her do it alone.
Snow was trying to kill her. That much was clear to you as well. But what was also clear was how important the two kids from the District 12 were. You knew there was something sort of plan being brewed. You just needed to wait to hear what it was. But a gut feeling told you that that plan, didn’t include you as a priority.
Not that you mind. You didn’t really if it meant getting the kids out and stopping these Games once and for all. It was Haymitch that you were worried about. And you hoped to whatever power was out there
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
The metallic scent of polish and artificial roses hung in the air, sharp and suffocating in the way only the Capitol could be. You stood backstage, shoulders pulled back despite the weight of the dress stitched to your body like armor.
District 8’s stylists had worked you into something stark and hauntingly beautiful — a dress made entirely of thread. Fine lines of black, silver, and deep plum wound tightly around your frame, as though you’d been sewn together by the very fabric of your district.
The skirt trailed behind you in curling stitches, unraveling and reforming with every step, a visual metaphor for resilience. Your bodice was structured like a corset —though it was amusing considering both your and Woof’s outfit were your own design your stylist borrowed.
Your hair was swept up into a loose bun, tendrils left to fall and frame your face in soft waves. Silver pins shaped like needles sparkled subtly in the Capitol lighting. Your makeup was more subdued — matte lips the color of dried blood in your opinion, and makeup around the eyes lined with a metallic powder.
You smoothed your skirt with a quiet exhale, not from nerves, but from weariness. The Capitol made everything feel louder, heavier. But you’d been through this before. You knew how to hold yourself without becoming something else.
A familiar voice broke the hum of prep around you.
“Well, well. Look at you.”
You turned, lips tugging into a smile as Finnick sauntered over in his absurd sea-green netting and too-confident smirk. Though you knew it was all pretend—expect for that fond look in his eye that he saved for his true friends.
“I thought they were supposed to make me the pretty one tonight,” he teased, giving you a slow once-over.
You blinked at him, unimpressed. “You look like the garnish on a seafood platter.”
He laughed — loud, bright — and leaned in to bump your shoulder with his. “Good. Then they’ll never see me coming.”
You gave a soft hum, smiling now as he settled beside you. Finnick never stayed still, always pacing or fidgeting. But next to you, he stilled — if only for a few breaths.
“You nervous?” he asked, tone lighter now, but still careful.
You shook your head. “Not for me.”
He nodded, glancing down the hall where all the other tributes laid: older and younger, and the newest additions at the very end of the line. “Yeah,” he said, quieter. “Me neither.”
You reached up, gently adjusting one of the messy strands of hair that fell across his forehead. “Don’t show off too much tonight,” you murmured.
“I make no promises,” he grinned. “But I’ll try — for you.”
You shook your head fondly your heart aching knowing that he, like many here, are hating the fact they they all had to be there agin. Then the horns blared, signaling the parade to begin.
Taking Woof’s hand, you stepped up into the chariot, and waited to get this over with.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
After the parade was finished you told Woof you’ll catch up with him later on, your heels clicked softly against the floors. You didn’t glance around — not yet. Your eyes found Haymitch immediately, though you pretended they didn’t. They always found him.
Your heart pounded as it had the first time you saw him. And ever time after.
He stood with Katniss and Peeta near the elevators, arms crossed, his usual grim scowl in place. Though he seemed to be talking with him, almost amused.
You kept your pace measured as you walked toward them. Your heart kicked at the sight of him, at the way his eyes swept over you quickly — worried, relieved, proud — before he looked away like it hurt to look too long.
“Smooth ride?” he asked, voice dry.
You nodded. “Crowd still loves a tragedy. All their favorites are in the ring,”
“You’d know,” he said. But there was a faint curl to his lip. Almost a smile. “Though not all their favorites. I’m not in,” he said.
That had earned him an unamused eyebrow raise, “Well unfortunately for you, Abernathy, you haven’t been a capital favorite in a long time. Especially now wi the these two,”
Katniss’s eyes lit up when she saw you properly, as if the weight on her shoulders lifted for a second. Though it was quickly replaced with that familiar stoic gleam in her eye. The reality that you too, were back in the games.
“Y/N!” she breathed.
You gave her a nod, eyes warm. “Nice to see you again, Katniss. You looked good. Cinna did a great job,”
She laughed under her breath. “You looked terrifying.”
Peeta smiled too, softer. “We are glad to see you. It’ll be good to know someone here,”
You met his eyes reaching and giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Peeta was too good. Too sweet. And especially with his leg gone? These games for him especially would be almost impossible. “I wish I could say the same,”
The elevator opened then chimed open and you all stepped in. You stood beside Haymitch. You were careful not to brush against him even as your fingers ached to reach for his.
Silence stretched. Capitol gold and steel blurred past the glass walls.
Then the elevator chimed — twelfth floor.
The doors slid open.
You waited until the kids stepped out and headed to their rooms to change before they ate.
“Y/N,” Haymitch started, the moment the two of you were alone. Well, as alone as you could be in those apartments.
“I’ll find you later. But you know I can’t stay long,” your voice was quiet, but quick as your gaze met your love’s. His eyes, the same tired grey ones Katniss wore. And his messy scruffy dark hair that Effie tried to tame.
How cruel the world was. With how much it look from your Haymitch. And how cruel it was that it just continued to take from him. His friends. His family. You.
“Nothing changes,”
“Plans change.”
“Do they?” Your eyes, usually so soft, timid were fierce like they had been so long ago. Before the burn out of the games. Before the toll of the losses started to take that light from you one year at a time.
There was something in your voice that made him turn. His eyes were sharper now, clearer than anyone ever gave him credit for.
“You talk like you’re not part of this.”
You gave him a long look. “I’m not the one that matters in this right now, Hay.”
He flinched. Barely. But you saw it.
“Don’t start,” he muttered.
You stayed quiet for a moment, watching a hovercraft drift past in the distance. Its lights cast brief shadows across your face.
“I know the rules,” you said finally, your voice low, but steady. “I know how this game is played. Who the sponsors will favor. Who else is watching.”
He stared out at the city, jaw clenched. “Don’t make decisions for me.”
“I’m not,” you said gently. “I’m reminding you to make the right ones.”
“You are the right one.” The words escaped before he could stop them. Rough. Unfiltered. Careless.
You glanced around the room. Knowing that all over there are most likely cameras and bugged wires placed and hidden all over. Your eyes fell back to him, and raised your brow slightly, a silent careful.
He let out a breath and shifted, eyes on the horizon now. “There’s a plan,” he said, voice more careful. “A way to keep certain… valuable pieces on the board. To ensure the games win,”
“I know,” you said. “I know the pieces. I don’t need to know all your strategies to know the goal is to win,”
He turned to you, eyes searching. “You’re not just a piece.”
You gave him a small smile. A sad smile that broke his heart. “But I know where I sit on the board.”
Silence stretched again. Not cold — just full of things neither of you could say.
Then, softly:
“They’re good kids,” you murmured, hands tightening on the railing. “Kind. Brave. The kind of good that’s hard to find now. But they’re also incredibly important,”
He nodded once.
“You make sure they win and get out of there,” you said. “You do whatever you have to do.”
“I’d rather not have to choose,” he replied, quiet.
“You won’t have to,” you said, finally looking at him again. “I already did.”
u kno those time traveling groundhog day fics where arthur or john wake back up in 1899 after dying and then they try to fix the past
yea that but with jack post ross murder
baby finally got what he wanted after looking for trouble and instead of the sweet release of death he's waking up facedown in the dirt
still 19
and in 1899
besides the shenanigans i think he'd get into with john, arthur and the rest of the younger members of the gang
think about how cute i'd be if jack became a brother to himself BECAUSE I KNOW THAT BOY WAS LONELY WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER
omg that's actually so sad...19 y/o jack becoming the safety baby jack needed FUCK ME😭
this was meant to be jack-centric but i cant help but think about mentor reader in this imagine too
just reader finding this kid thats so done with life but hes so determined to get to a town, really any place with people and he's not telling you why
of course the boy isnt gonna tell you that he needs to find his family quickly because without interference they'll violently implode and the only reason he knows that is b/c hes from the future
but you cant watch this boy walk out into civilization when he's so clearly weak and hungry...
My writings are influenced heavily by @nicebonescomrade, @willowedwisteria, @raidengaile, and so many other Sagau writer's works. You all inspire me so much! Thank you for all that you do!! Enjoy!
| Part 2
Warnings: Some slightly OOC Young! Zhongli and maybe some..implied neglect, but other than that nothing else!(I think..)
Summary: You had always been there for him, even when he didn't know it.
(Note: All italicized words will have their definitions at the end)
Even though it was so long ago, he could still remember that day as clear as crystal. It was long before he had become Red Lapis, the fervent acolyte, or Morax the Warmongering Sinner, blinded by his own Earthly beliefs. It had been when he was still a young and nameless god of stone, a hatchling dragon adeptus with no true idea how the world around him worked or who had made it.
Yet, even in his ignorance, you still looked kindly upon him in his youth. Like a guardian angel.
"Hello little one, are you lost?"
The little god startled from his intense state of thought and looked up. The curious figure before him was swathed in a long brown cloak and thick black robes which showed not an inch of skin. Their face was shrouded in shadow by the hood of their cloak, yet even if one looked closer to try and spot their face, one would only be met with a white, faceless mask. They carried no bag or climbing supplies like any reasonable mortal would when climbing this far up into the mountains, only a simple wooden crook.
How strange, he had thought. He couldn't recognize you then, his facalities were still new, not yet full intertwined with your creation. At that time he couldn't even full tap into the Geo power you had plentifully granted him at birth. He could not sense your power, your overwhelming strength, your divine presence. If he had, he perhaps would have foolishly fled like the child he had been, not understanding, afraid, and far, far, too ignorant.
"This one is not lost!" the little god proclaimed firmly, "This one was just-uh..."
He looked back to the unfamiliar path which flowed further up the mountain. It was then some of his confidence wavered.
"Um..."
The cloaked figure chuckled.
"So you are lost." The wanderer's voice smirked with certainty. The young god pouted in response, face flushed red with embarrassment.
"No! I-I'm just-!"
"You know.." The stranger sighed knowingly as they kneeled down to his eye level, wagging a black gloved finger, "It's not wise to lie to one's elders child. Pride will only cause more problems for you."
His cheeks puffed out even further in annoyance.
"I don't need any help," He sniffed and jutted a finger to his chest, "I'm an adeptus! A god! A Long! I can take care of myself!"
"Oh?"
"Yeah! I'm probably even older than you! So I don't need to respect you!"
The stranger snorted.
"Child, no one in Teyvat is older than I. Even Teyvat itself is young compared to this one."
"You lie!" The little adeptus cried out accusingly, "No one is older than Teyvat!"
"I tell no lies, little adeptus," the figure then lightly bonked him on the head with their crook. The young god squeaked, then huffed with indignance. The wanderer simple shook their head and chuckled once more, "You should learn to be more polite. No one will want to worship a rude god."
He glared up at them.
"Now then!" The stranger rose to their feet and dusted off their robes, before turning back to the path before them. "Where are you trying to go little one? Do you have parents waiting for you?"
"..."
The little dragon was silent for a few moments before speaking.
"No.. I..T-This one was trying to get back home, to my cave," His gaze lowered, "..This adeptus doesn't have any parents."
"No parents?" The shock was evident in their voice, "But.."
The figure's head looked him up and down, now finally noticing the white silk wrapping tied up in sloppy, childish knots loosely hanging off the young god's small frame that barely covered the scraps,cuts,and bruises that littered his skin.
"..You're still so young for an adeptus.." They muttered softly, yet there seemed to be a hidden growl within their words, "Why are you alone?"
The little one proudly puffed out his chest. He camed to realized later on that was perhaps not something to be proud of.
"This one's power is probably too much for the mortals below the mountain to handle!" He smiled broadly, "As for other adepti.."
His shoulders slumped a little.
"This one has.. never really met another adeptus or god before.."
The mortals below all worshiped him as a great mountain spirit, a "protector deity", but back then he hadn't really known what that meant. They had elevated him, put him on a pedestal, yet they also refused to climb them mountain to visit saying that it was "his sacred domain" and that they were "unworthy to tred upon such divine soil". They left him offerings of food and stones, but they never talked to him unless it was in prayer, and that was always when they needed something. While he wouldn't admit it out loud.. he had always been rather lonely...
Until that day.
"Hmf.." The stranger hummed, "Well then, I suppose that means you have no one to teach you the way of the gods then."
The little god blinked, "Eh?"
The cloaked traveler nodded, "Oh yes, there are many things one must know to be a proper god! So many rules, regulations, rituals, customs.." They shake their head in exasperation, "In this one's opinion, things don't need to be so overly complicated, but the Celestial Officials absolutely insisted on it. I don't understand why."
"You..You know the way of the Gods??" He asked hesitantly.
"Yup!"
"...Really?" He asked incredulously.
They huffed and smacked him on the head once more with their crook. The god squawk indignantly.
"Aiyah! Don't underestimate this elder, child! I hold knowledge of many things! The way of the gods of Celestia is just the tip of the iceberg!"
"What's an iceberg?"
"See!" He could just hear the smugness in their voice, "I even known about things that exist that you don't!"
He gave them a flat look, "So?"
They sighed.
"Look," They gently patted his head between his horns. His eyes widened, slitted pupils dilating, "This one.. Does not feel comfortable leaving you all alone on this mountain."
"I'm not all alone!" He weakly retorted, still slightly dazed from the pleasantness of having their hand on his head. When had someone ever patted his head before? "I have my worshipers at the bottom of the mountain!"
"Yes, but do they make you feel happy? Are any of them your friends? Do you even know any of their names?"
His silence had probably been rather telling.
"You stubborn little blockhead.." They murmured, "I will stay for now and teach you all that I know, and that is final! From this moment on you are now my Xuéshēng!"
Why? He had wanted to ask. They had barely known each other for thirty minutes and this mortal traveler was already proclaiming themselves to be his shifu. He barely even knew this person! He should be shoving them off his mountain and telling them to never come back! He should be angry and mistrustful! No mortal should claim dominion over him! Yet, some where deep inside, some ancient primal aspect of himself told him to trust this stranger. That part of himself had never lead him astray nor has it ever failed in leading him in his daily survival, even to this day. 'They won't hurt you,' it had whispered in the back of his mind, 'You can trust them, little adeptus.'
And from the way they continued to pet his head, making feel this warm, euphoric fuzziness he had never felt before, he was becoming more and more inclined to agree.
"Do you have a name little one?" They asked suddenly.
He shook his head only to marvel at the feel of your fingers sinking deeper into his hair as he did so.
"Hm, well, that is troublesome-" They paused, not noticing the adeptus blatently nuzzling their hand as they processed that thought, "Wait, if you don't have a name, then what do the villagers call you?"
The little dragon adeptus froze and looked down silently, curling his bare toes in the dirt.
"Most of them just call me the "Guardian Lung of the Mountain" or "The Dragon Adeptus", they.. didn't really give me a name."
They clicked their tongue. "Well this just won't do!" The adeptus watched as the stranger seemed to dive deep into their thoughts, a hand on the chin of their mask as they hummed silently. After a few moments, they snapped their fingers.
"I know! I'll call you Shi Yǒng uh, for the time being?" You retracted awkwardly, "Ah, You could always change it later if you don't like it-."
"No!" the little one suddenly blurted out, only to bite his tongue, "I..I love it!"
A name.. A name... No one had ever given him a name before..
And at that time he hadn't realized just how precious of a gift it was or who had given it to him. Such a precious, precious gift, worth more than all the Mora in Teyvat. While history may have forgotten it, its characters and syllables washed away with the sands of history, that name remained forever etched into the very depths of his heart. His very first name. The name that.. you had given to him.
"Um.."
"Yes Shi Yǒng?"
He shuddered giddily. (That's my name! They said my name!!)
"May.. May I also know this respected elder's name if you are going to be teaching me?" He asked softly, eagerly.
"My name..." He felt a gnawing disappointment when they pulled their hand away, resisting the urge to grab it and shove it back between his horns, "Ah, this one's name is unimportant. Just call me Laoshi, little one."
He wanted to ask why they felt their name was unimportant (how could their name be unimportant?!), but.. They started drifting away from the conversation as soon as their name was brought up, so he dropped it. Mortals don't like talking about things that make them uncomfortable, right? Does their name make them uncomfortable perhaps? Something to be explored on a later date it would seem.
"Then.." He grabbed their hand and (finally!) placed it back on his head with a huge smile on his face, "I will be in your care Laoshi!"
You smiled softly behind your mask.
Definitions:
Long - A Chinese dragon
Aiyah - A Chinese exclamation of exasperation or frustration
Xuéshēng - Chinese word meaning "student"
shifu - Chinese word meaning "Master" or "teacher"
Laoshi - Chinese word that literally means "old teacher"
Extra:
"Um... Laoshi?
"Yes?"
"You still haven't answered my question from earlier."
Im super interested in your idea of reader being a District 12 Mentor and being the only person ol lovely Haymitch trusts 👀👀 i wld like to request at least one fic pls sir 🙏🙏
Like, I imagine R also won through some way that the President Snow took as "rebellion", and faced the same tragedy as Haymitch. I personally love the idea of R being a gatherer before being reaped, and they had developed a prior immunity to the same poison berries that Katniss & Peeta ate, just from (accidentally?) eating them several times,, kinda like exposure therapy lol. Maybe R won by befriending everyone and getting them to eat the berries. Pseudo-pacifist victor? Lmao
Haymitch and R tag-team mentoring the tributes from District 12, and even though none of them make it out of the arena alive , R keeps mentoring even when Haymitch gives up hope, bc he wants them to have a fighting chance. Id love to see some sort of "get it together, dammit" talk
You dont need to include anything from this if you want lol, this is just my own HCs. Id love anything from you, my good sir! Soz for the long ask akdbdksn
Okay so sorry for this taking so long to respond but I love this idea! Nightlock berries probably wouldn't be a great fit since they're intensely poisonous and entirely fatal. Also this ended up turning into a full-blown fic here all on its own so take this as just backstory for the Mentor!reader lol
But okay, so like, Haymitch and the Mentor being like, terse allies at first. Probably the Mentor has been a victor for around 16 or 17 years, the winner of the 58th Hunger Games. Is probably like ten years younger than Haymitch. But like imagine getting Reaped and this 24 year-old man ends up deciding that you're probably not going to win. He's still handsome and muscular, although he's started to get a beer gut and his gray eyes have started to dull. He's been a victor for 8 years now. He's seen 16 kids die and felt the guilt of their deaths. He might even have been your first crush. And you get to the Capitol, scared out of your wits... and when he starts helping the girl you came to the Capitol with, you know that you're completely alone in this world. He gives you token support, but you know he's already picked who he'll support.
It's almost freeing, in a way. Knowing that you have no chance. There's no fear anymore for you. You glut on the Capitol's rich food, enjoying whatever you can of life's sparse pleasures before it is all taken from you. You laugh with Caesar Flickerman and his perma-grin (this year his suit and hair are dyed a vibrant green) and... you establish yourself as a personality. The Capitol likes you because you have charm. Wit. Serenity. You barely even mention the Games in your interview, which charms the citizens, and makes your opposition nervous about your nonchalance.
You dart into the rocky savannah landscape at first sound of the horn, escaping the Cornucopia bloodbath - but your next move shocks the viewers - you immediately call out to the District 4 boy who charged off in the same direction as you, and you wave for him to follow you. He's so confused - he has no idea what you're trying to do, but you simply raise your hands and say he can kill you if he wants... but wouldn't you two do better together? He knows he brings nothing to the alliance - he's not prepared for this landscape, he excels at fishing, not foraging in a dry grassland, but he knows he has no better options.
You charm a District 7 girl into joining the alliance and the three of you take the Capitol by storm, and the Gamemakers by surprise. You win their loyalty by forging food on days when your foraging and hunting runs short - your glutting at the Capitol gave you just enough extra body fat to be comfortable. She comes up with the idea to call each other by District number. To avoid getting attached. Eventually it becomes certain that they have to take the three of you to the end because even though none of you have actually killed anyone, and even though you flee at any sign of combat, your genuine friendship is just so compelling - and the President must ensure that it is seen to be divided when all the chips are down. District 7 and 4 send sponsor gifts to the three of you - Haymitch sends you nothing, until your counterpart from 12 appears in the sky.
Four likes to read whatever he can get his hands on when he isn't on the fishing boats. He likes the color green so much his older brother made him a bracelet from it. He gives you that bracelet one night, hand holding yours as though it's the only thing that exists. Seven whittles little figures for her little sisters. Her eyes go dull when she mentions her youngest sister has started to play Hunger Games with them. She was going to be married, she mentions. To a girl. Their families were both merchants and it would have helped them lower prices for the poorer in their District.
The Careers hunt you down, they kill the boy from 4 before turning on each other like wild dogs, and you and the girl from 7 make it to a rocky plateau just before the sky opens up and floods the entire savannah, making a beautiful setpiece for a final confrontation. You never learned his name. Even when they tell you later his name is Adon, you still think of him as Four.
She'll kill you, you have no doubt of that. The boy from 4 kissed you in the night, under a blanket where the cameras couldn't see. Whispered words of love under artificial stars and could barely keep from touching you, wanting as much contact as possible, knowing one of you would be gone in a matter of days. He might have spared you, forced the Gamemakers to intervene.
She won't. She has no choice. Her district, her girlfriend, her sisters - all are counting on her. She can't swim, and you aren't sure you can do well in this flood. There will be no running.
And then you tell her your name. Her eyes go dull. She hefts her spear and screams at you. Orders you to fight. Begs you to. Because she knows that if she kills you, if you don't defend yourself, it doesn't matter anymore. That she will always think of it as murder.
Before you can stop her she turns and throws herself into the water. Two minutes pass before the final cannon rings, and everything feels far away when they call your name and say the word Victor.
You could hate Haymitch for how he treated you but you feel so empty inside. You can't even cry. After you are checked out, your fluids and nutrients replenished, your scars erased, all you can do is just put your face into Haymitch's neck and let him hold you. You can't sob. You can't scream. The only thing you do is shake, violently and jerkily, as he tries to hold you still. Tears will come later. Sobs and screams and nightmares and this empty feeling will never really seem to go away.
And it doesn't end. You become the tribute who never threw a single blow, a legend in the capitol and a warning for the Gamemakers not to let it happen again. Your wit and charm again save you - you are beloved of the Capitol and of Caesar and they don't want to let you go. There are cries to make you a commentator at the next Games, but you're only turning sixteen and you've experienced things that would destroy someone twice your age. You are not unpunished. Like Haymitch before you, they kill everyone you've ever loved. Everyone else distances themselves from you. You are alone.
Except for Haymitch. Over the next 16 years you both are mentors for the tributes from Twelve. And you see him drink more, his cynicism turn to bitterness. You watch him as he gives up. When you turn twenty you move to the Capitol instead, living there, attending parties, returning to Twelve only to collect the tributes. You hate it there. Everything is grey. Everyone has given up.
In the Capitol there is vibrancy, there is life. There are people you can charm and outwit and bend to your will so that they'll give fortunes to save the kids you desperately try to keep alive. As long as Haymitch picks first you don't feel as guilty - you're just protecting the one left behind, not trying to indirectly kill off 23 other children. In a way you've given up, too. Maybe you gave up back when Haymitch first abandoned you. Maybe when Four died - you still wear his bracelet every day. Maybe when you and Haymitch lost both your tributes at the Cornucopia - you remember having to wash the vomit out of Haymitch's hair after the bender he went on that time. You don't drink. Maybe you're disgusted with him. Maybe you just want to punish yourself by never allowing your senses to be dulled to the pain.
Effie collects you from your apartment to prepare to make the journey to Twelve and you spend a moment checking that you're still you. And there, under the decade and a half of age and worry, under the silken suit with its neon trim, under the shakiness of your hands that has never left since you returned to District Twelve to find your mother's mouth overflowing with white rose petals and her hands filled with nightlock berries, under it all, it's still you. A sixteen-year-old pacifist who still thinks they could die at any moment. Because you've never really left the arena, have you? Every day is still a fight for survival, and not just for you.
Ladies and gentlemen, let the 74th Annual Hunger Games commence.
(Welp, here it is after.. *looks tiredly at calendar* four freaking months. This one is a bit of a lore dump so strap in. Forgive me if the story feels jumbled. Hope you all enjoy.)
| Part 1
Warnings: referenced child neglect, OOC Child!Zhongli, gore (mentioned and slight), yandere (not from Zhongli though), emotional manipulation, referenced imprisonment, referenced cult, non-consensual touching (not in a sexual way tho, you pervs), angst near the end
Summary: The cogs of fate begin to turn...
The cave that Shi Yông called home was very.. minimalistic to say the least.
A large pile of slightly dusty animal furs, linen, and wool formed into a vague shape similar to that of a bird's nest that was pushed into the furthest part of the cave seemed to be the only most notable feature of the young adeptus's abode. Other than that, plus a woven basket of dirty bamboo shoots and a smaller one full of what looked to be different types of stones, the cave was practically barren.
Your hold on your crook tightened.
'He really is alone..' you thought as you fumed silently.
"So..Shi Yông," You smiled awkwardly, trying to keep your building rage from showing on your face, "How long have you lived here?"
The boy paused.
"Um.." His face became pensive, "I..I don't really know? As long as I can remember, I guess?"
"And how long is that?" You pressed.
The young adeptus's face grew pensive once more only to shift in discomfort after a few moments. Shi Yong bowed deeply in apology.
"Forgive this one, Laoshi. This one is..unable to remember."
You frowned behind your mask.
He should remember. He always remembers. He remembers everything. He never forgets, never, never, never-
You restrained a sigh and shoved away one of the whispering tendrils of fate that had caressed your mind.
God, clairvoyance could be so annoying sometimes.
You replied to Shi Yong's little apology with a hum and waved a hand of dismissal.
"It's fine, child, " You assured, petting his head.
You looked back out of the mouth of the cave (once again not noticing the way the youngling god seemed to completely melt under your touch), watching as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving an vibrant red sky in it's wake.
'It took longer to get up here than expected..' You mused.
While your initial plan was to bring Shi Yong back to his cave, gather his things, and leave, it would seem that your hopeless sense of direction and Shi Yong's state of already being lost had wound up making things even worse.
You inhaled through your nose.
"It would seem that we will have to depart in the morning," You thought aloud.
Shi Yông blinked, then cocked his head in confusion. Then, the thought seemed to finally catch up to him and he froze. And while his gulp was silent, the subtly bobbing of his throat gave indication that he was nervous.
"Depart?" He asked softly, clasping at your robes again with his fingers practically digging into the fabric, "You mean.. leave the mountain?"
"Yes my dear disciple," You nodded, patting his clawed hand, "By nature I am a wanderer, I do not like to stay in one place for too long."
'Well..more like I hate being confined...'
You mentally shuddered at unwanted memories that you promptly shoved into the deepest depths of your mind.
"But for now," You murmured, reaching into your robes, "We'll rest for the night."
"Are you thirsty little adeptus?" You asked cocking your head.
Shi Yông copied your motion as he stared at the small linen skin pouch that you now held in your hands.
"..Why?" He replied with a tone full of hesitance.
You smirked behind your mask.
You then proceeded to pull out a small, dark brown ceramic tea pot, a box of tea leaves, a water pouch, and two wooden cups alongside a small bamboo mat out of the impossibly small pouch.
Shi Yông gaped.
"What-!" He pointed at the bag with fascination and wonder, "How'd you do that, Laoshi?!"
You chuckled heartily at the youngling's amazement, watching in bemusement as his tail wagged like a young puppy, his eyes wide with interest. "Just some simple dimensional magic, little one. I could teach it to you one day, if you'd like?" You offered. An offer the young god excitedly excepted with an eager nod.
"Could you teach it to me now?" He asked with wide, sparkling eyes.
"Hm. Not now, little Shi Yông. Someday, but not now."
"Why not?"
You lifted your head to give the cave's ceiling a knowing look, as if the stalgamites shared an important secret with you.
Probably the secret about dimensional magic.
Shi Yông pouted. No fair! He wants to know too!
"Laoshiiiii~" The little one whined, complete with puppy eyes and teary lashes. A whine that was met with a swift, but light bonk to the head via crook.
"Oh don't pout, my little adeptus. You will learn all I have to offer in due course. Don't worry~."
"But why can't I learn it now?"
You pulled some firewood out of your bag, set them on the floor slightly away from the tea supplies, and shrugged.
"Because you're not ready right now."
The little dragon puffed out his cheeks in irritation and stopped his little clawed foot.
"Who says I'm not ready learn? I'm a mighty long! There's nothing I can't do! Teach me! Teach me now!"
His demand was met with another bonk to the head.
"Aiyah.." You sighed, shaking your head, "Such a demanding disciple I have. Back on my world, such back talk would earn you a good thrashing across your bottom," You then turned away from the firewood and looked at him through your mask, "Shi Yông.. Dimensional magic can be finicky at best and wildly unpredictable at worse. You need to know exactly what you're doing, or else it could horribly back fire. Heck-" You made a gesturing motion with your crook, "-it could end up sending you to an alternate universe, or back in time, or, at very worse, could wind up scattering and trapping your soul across different planes of existence-"
Shi Yông looked at you with a blank look on his face, clearly confused.
You sweat-dropped, thankful such embarrassment was hidden by your mask.
"Ahhh," You coughed awkwardly into your fist, "My point is, Dimensional magic is very advanced and very dangerous if not used with care. I.. Just don't want you getting yourself hurt, that's all."
He unfurrowed his thin brows just the slightest bit at your proclamation.
"Now, help me start a fire would you?"
"...Ok.."
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Blood..
Death...
Ashes...
Seven sovereigns standing above the rest, bodies and skeletons of other gods crushed beneath their feet, with Celestia above simply watching the massacre unfold, smiling with bloodied, gilded teeth.
A Golden contract..
A Windswept Lyre..
A Lightening encrusted sword..
By the word of Celestia, a nation cast in the moon's shadow crumbled. "We need no other gods!" its people proclaimed, with twilight sword in hand. "You are not our maker!" its people cried, with a golden dragon at their back. "We shall free them from their gilded cage built on lies and deceit!" its people bellowed, a mighty crown upon their head.
They were all crushed.
Every.
Single.
One.
They were no match for Heaven's mighty hand.
Death came in one fell swoop as gods descended with unbridled fury. Even a fate worse than death came upon them, twisting their bodies into mangled minions of the Abyss, many having their minds twisted and lost.
You cried.
The bloodshed continued, red oozing down from the sky.
You begged.
Your body remained chained. Your children lay dead, their pleas and cries for you unanswered, their souls reaching towards the sky for you-
You screamed.
You jostled awake, panting and sweating and gulping down air you didn't need. You sat there for several moments, ripping back what remnants of your mind still remained within the folds of your power and recollecting yourself. The cave and sky were dark and little Shi Yông was currently nestling within his little space of linen and furs, safe and sound.
You brought a shaking hand to your face, wiping away tears that had built up during your slumber.
It's okay. You're okay. None of that has happened yet, none of it except-
You little ones smiled up at you. Your concubines laughed like bells in your ears.
Your stomach lurches. It took everything in your power not to vomit at the once happy memories. Tears escaped your eyes once more as you suppressed those vicious sobs as to not wake your precious new disciple. Several moments pass of this virulent back and forth between self-inflicted peace and stabbing, tainted memories.
"..Your grace?"
You whirled around at the sound of a voice, an all too familiar one, coming from the cave entrance. You sighed.
"Good evening Eligos.." You look up at him with blank and dulled eyes, your mask having been long forgotten on the floor by your slumbering self.
The specter of pale bones and a horse's skull looked at you with what you could only guess was pity or perhaps.. empathy, if you could assume that far.
"Did you have that dream again, your grace?" His deep voice was raspy and slightly dry, but it dripped with a soft kind of concern that only old friends or family members were privy to give. You were unsure of whether or not to answer and instead simply looked away with a shadowed face. Eligos responded by simply floating over to your side.
His presence is cold, as it always is given his phantasmic nature.
"How.." Your voice breaks and you wet your trembling lips, "..How did you find me?"
"Your dream led me to you," He whispered, "Just like last time."
You laugh bitterly and hang your head, hands cradling your face.
You looked up at him from between your fingers. "..Are you going to tell them?"
"Did I tell them last time?"
"..."
He practically raised an imaginary eyebrow.
"...No," You groan.
"Why do you not trust me, your grace?" He leans down, presence practically wrapping you in cold serenity. You hate it.
"You know I don't trust anyone from the Celestial Court," You mutter darkly.
"Yet you did not attack me, neither then nor now."
You flashed him a dagger hidden within your robe, enchanted, radiant with your condensed power, before concealing it once more. "You can never be too careful," you said simply, tone flat as you got up from your bedding on the cave floor and moved to quietly tidding up the young adeptus's home. You dutifully ignored the seer spirit as you did so.
Eligos sighed.
He then tore his gaze from you and looked to the youngling god who was still tucked away in his little nest.
"Is he.."
"Yes." You nod.
With a flick of your hand, a golden string flowed from one of your fingers and wrapped around the little sleeping child, slithering up one of his arms and swirling into a golden sigil-like pattern that rested between his shoulder-blades.
"..He is one of Celestia's fated chosen."
The silence between the two of you was thick, broken only by the sounds of you shuffling about.
"I see." He murmers and nods, "...Are you going to kill him?"
You threw your head back with a pitiless, dry laugh.
"I could never bring myself to kill a child, you know that." ..That was true, but it wasn't the whole truth about why you kept Shi Yông alive. Eligos didn't need to know that though. You shook your head, "No, I've made him my disciple. I will teach him the true way of godhood. I will raise him."
You then dug a glare into the specter's skull.
"Will you try to take him from me?"
He bows his head to you.
"I would not dare go against your wishes, your grace. If you wish to have him as your own, then it shall be done."
You scoff loudly.
"Yes.. my wishes. As if Celestia ever cared about what I wanted," You roughly sit back down and start to reorganize your dimensional pouch to keep your hands occupied when you finally remember there was hardly anything in the cave to clean anyways, "If they did, they would have freed me and spared my-"
You stop, unable to finish that sentence. Red rims your eyes and you inhale sharply through your nose.
"No, no," You turn and shake a finger at Eligos with a snarl, "You all treat me more like a pet or a prize more than a person. Even the tree you keep my true form in still looks like a cage from the inside."
A shadow falls over Eligos expressionless face.
"I am not Celestia, your grace."
"Yes, but you serve them."
"I serve you!" He hissed lowly, the atmosphere around the two of you dropping far enough in temperature that you can see your breath form a pale mist, "It has always been you!"
His sheer cold presence engulfs you as he practically towers chest to nose with you.
"I may be of the Celestia Court, but my allegiance has always been to you. That has not changed, nor will it ever change."
"Then why did you never free me?" Your eyes narrow, "If you were truly on my side, why did you leave me in there to rot?"
"You are what holds this world together. If you were freed then everything will fall. Your children's sacrifice would have been for not-!"
"MY CHILDREN-!" You halt your scream and look back a Shi Yông. Soft snores still met your ears. You then turned back to Eligos with a seething, disdainful glare full of rage and poisonous daggers.
"My children.. sacrificed nothing. Celestia sacrificed them. You used their brain, their blood, their bodies when they screamed for you to stop, when I screamed for you to stop. You lazy louts did nothing when that Bastard who calls himself your king ripped my babies apart and built this world upon their ashes and bones. Where was your loyalty then, hm?"
Eligos was silent.
"If I were freed, even if this false world falls, none within who are innocent would die. I still see humans and those born of my leyline blood as my children after all. You all just wanted me contained," Your eyes pierce into his soul, "You just want me all to yourself."
"...Are you done?"
Your eyebrows shoot into your hairline.
"What?"
"I said 'Are you done?'" Eligos glared with empty eye-sockets, "Did you get it all out of your system?"
"What?" You sputter, "What are you-?"
Before you can even realize, Eligos has you backed into a wall, shoved against the rocky surface and pinned against it by the shoulders.
"Listen here-."
Your eyes widen, then harden.
Eligos screeches when you slash his ghostly form with your dagger, white ooze dripping from the wound as he stumbled back.
"You knew I had a weapon, yet you still had the nerve to try and intimidate me like that," You chuckle darkly with a smirk, "Color me impressed."
The specter glowers as you sheath the dagger.
"You may not believe me when I say it, but I am yours. I will serve you even if you were to cut me into a thousand pieces," He hisses, his form flickering as the enchantments on the dagger begin to kick in, "You can banish me or run from me, but I will always find you. You cannot resist me forever. Those dreams of war will not leave you so easily, your grace. You and I are tied, whether you like it or not!"
"G e t O u t ."
Your power obeyed, whisking the celestial specter away without another word. You stumble back against the wall, letting out a few shaky breaths. You heard back over to your bedding, slipped your mask back on, and let out a sigh of relief.
I need to keep this on.. They'll keep finding me if I don't...
Without even realizing it, you had stumbled, almost drunkenly over to the young god's bed, completely drained mentally and emotionally. Your hand reached over and gently carded through the sleeping adeptus's long, matted hair.
You chuckled to yourself, "I really need to give you a bath..or a comb."
How surprising that the little one still managed to sleep like a log after all that. Truly, perhaps not even a hurricane could wake him once he lay down for sleep. You rested your cheek on the rim of the makeshift nest, with your hand still resting on his head before moving to rest on his upper back, fingers tracing his upper spine where the sigil had been.
"Soul child.." You murmur gently, "My soul child.. I will protect you and all your siblings to come with all my heart. On this I swear."
That night, you fell back asleep with a hand rest on your child and tears staining the inside of your mask.
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Extra:
Reader: *pulls out knife to fight Eligos*
Their bonking stick sitting patiently in the corner: Lonely~, I am so lonely~, I have no bodyyyyyy-
Random Question: How would anyone feel about me writing a little drabble about Mentor! reader trying to give (a rather unwilling) child Zhongli a bath?
@nicebonescomrade? @bamboowrites? @raidengaile? @willowedwisteria? Any thoughts??
