They Say He Murdered Three [Kay] ~Embryze

I’ve drawn regret
from the truth of a thousand lies
so let mercy come wash away
what I’ve done

The red sands of the arena blew away so quickly and the circular red room seemed to crash back into reality as Julian heard a deep voice before him—a voice that was all too familiar in his head …Don’t let them haunt you… He blinked for a moment, catching his breath as he regained his composure, realizing he was not alone after all. This was not the falling sands… it was merely a red room, and the boy before him was not prey… he was, well, Julian wasn’t sure what he was.

Julian swallowed hard and attempted to replace his expression of fear with his signature glacial stare. He ignored Mace’s extended hand and tried to look him in the eye coldly but faltered. He didn’t want Mace to know he had been right… to know he was now haunted, to know that Julian’s heart indeed existed and, worse yet, was weighed down with immeasurable guilt and self loathing. He tried to re-establish a disdainful expression as he forced himself to look Mace directly in the eyes. Yes it hurt, but Julian had to be punished in every way possible. Instead of appearing cruel however, his once sinister smile was simply sad and knowing. Something about Mace’s eyes shredded Julian’s icy walls of defense every time the two had met. This occasion was no different.

“I told you, Mace Emberstatt… I would get exactly what I deserve.”

With his confident, harsh exterior broken down, Julian resorted to folding his arms around his chest as a form of security. He had expected, hoped for even, Mace’s hatred that he was sure would come upon his victory. Yet, here he was, treating Julian not as a monster, but with a crude sort of kindness. It was almost as if Shrol was forgiving him all over again, forgiving him for something that should never be reconciled. It would hurt so much less if Mace approached Julian with malice.

“Why would you want to see me again? Aren’t you supposed to hate me now? Shouldn’t you be telling me what a horrible person I am?” He asked almost pleadingly, willing Mace to utter the words. “You could hit me now you know… I saw the way you looked at me back in training center. Go ahead, do it for Liliana and Moore. I may not have killed them, but I would have… because I’m evil, Mace…” Julian winced as the word "evil" touched his lips. Saying it aloud made it that much more real, more devastating. Evil was what Reyes had called him in the end. A fellow career, a boy trained just like he had been, had seen Julian for the monster he was. In that moment, Julian Bryze knew it to be undeniably true.

He was trying to bring on Mace’s temper, to rile him up by mentioning the deceased tributes of District Ten. He averted his eyes shamefully to something on the floor to his right, waiting for the much larger boy to strike. Julian knew how cruel it was for him to goad him with those lives, but the pity in Mace’s words was too painful. He wanted that promised hatred to come. He deserved it.

I’ve drawn regret
from the truth of a thousand lies
so let mercy come wash away
what I’ve done

Julian watched coldly as Mace retracted his hand, smiling inside as the mood shifted. Perfect! This was exactly what Julian had wanted in the first place, Mace’s anger. The words were all wrong though. Mace wasn’t sitting here telling him he was evil or that he was getting what he deserved; he was not indulging in Julian’s wishes. Of course, Mace telling him that he didn’t deserve this certainly did not make that true in his eyes. Julian knew he did, but he could agree that Mace did not. Mace was not the one who spent his life training to do this. Julian had lived and breathed for this false image of glory, and now he was paying the price. It was so unfair that the boy before him had to share in this punishment though. He had simply done what needed to be done.

His harsh expression softened as the light revealed the subtly disguised bruise of Mace Emberstatt’s chin. It was so hard to maintain his cold attitude around this boy with his crude form of kindness. It had been that way since the two had met. Julian would struggle to hold up those icy walls of his, yet Mace unknowingly knocked them down in each and every encounter. It was something in the way he spoke to Julian, something in the way he looked at him. No one treated him quite like this unpolished boy from District Ten would.

Guilt bubbled in Julian’s stomach as Mace told him the he wasn’t horrible. If Julian weren’t horrible, he wouldn’t have had the audacity to shove Liliana and Moore in their mentor’s face. He knew that would be what really struck a cord with Mace; he wanted the anger and the hate… but the latter of the two never came. Something told Julian it wasn’t ever going to come.

Julian swallowed hard and looked back up into those light eyes. He bit his lip for a moment, searching for something to say. It wasn’t hard to know what the proper thing to say was, but swallowing his pride to get it out was the difficult part. After a deep breath and a moment of pause, Julian finally forced the words out. “I… I’m sorry.”

The apology was for all of it. It was for Liliana and Moore, for bringing them up, for trying to invoke his wrath, for Mace having to share in this pain ... As with most cruel words that left Julian’s mouth, they had all just been to push Mace away, yet this stubborn boy had just pushed right back. “You’re still wrong though,” he said with a sad little smile, “I am horrible. I’m glad you don’t pity me though. Pity is certainly something I don’t deserve.”

He took in another deep breath along with another step forward to close the gap between them. His hand reached forward automatically, lifting up to touch the line of Mace’s jaw where his bruise resided, however Julian caught himself and quickly faltered, pulling his arm back to his side. Julian couldn’t help but wonder what this last scrape entailed, but now wasn’t the moment to ask. Another question was far too close to the tip of his tongue. Just as in the training center when he could not refrain from asking whether Mace hated him or not, the child inside of him escaped once more. “So… you really hoped you would see me again?” Julian looked down for a moment then looked back up at Mace with a genuine smile. No sadness, nothing sinister… just a warm smile. A look that was so foreign to Julian’s face within the last year that his muscles had almost forgotten how to create one.

Julian had to look down for a moment as Mace grinned back at him. The notion had left him so unguarded and he tried to hide the fact that his own smile had now grown a bit brighter. Julian Bryze did not show this much joy in anyone’s company. He swallowed, recomposing his face to a more neutral grin as he looked back up at this boy from District Ten, a place that Julian had thought nothing of until Mace Emberstatt fell into his world. Mention of it now had caught hold of Julian’s curiosity. He considered asking something about Mace’s home for a moment, but faltered as he watched Mace’s smirk fade, and his eyes trail down to their hands. Julian’s own smile faded as Mace pulled his hand away… He hadn’t even realized their hands were still holding. His instinct to place his palm into Mace’s had been correct, and the sense of Mace’s touch had been more calming than anything of late. The sense of another human connected with him… to finally not be alone… and suddenly Mace was taking that security back for himself, leaving Julian to crash back into red sands of the barren arena.

His hands feeling empty without his glaive and his pack, he wrapped his arms around himself once more as he took a step back from Mace, retreating in every sense of the word. He wanted to reach back out, to grab hold of the large hand once more to pull him out of the arena, but Julian knew better. Being alone was part of his punishment, as was being forever trapped in the crimson arena, running from tower to tower in search of a peace that could never come. He could practically hear the sand falling now, a subtle, never ceasing rumble. A particularly loud brassy sound carried him right back to the tower of reality however. The band had kicked up with another song… the sound of the sand had simply been the murmur of the party crowd a ways down the corridor.

Finding himself back in the present, Julian remembered Mace had said something while he was releasing his hand, dropping him back into the arena. Something about wearing something normal… It was hard to imagine such a thing on Mace. He had only seen him in Capitol apparel really since they had met on his Victory Tour. There was the moment in the training room though… when Mace was in simple clothing that had revealed his physique. It was so hard to remember entirely now, which was a scary thought in itself, but Julian thought that if anything, Mace might actually be larger than Midas was. His arms were powerful, his shoulders solidly built… Julian could feel the blood rushing through his body as his cheeks shifted to a shade of pink. Blushing was weak, this wasn’t allowed… He took another step backward, furrowing his brow to scowl, but all in all just looking rather flustered as he rapidly tried to put up his icy walls of defense that seemed to be futile against Mace anyway.

“Yeah, you probably should. You look ridiculous,” Julian said coldly, not looking Mace in the eye any longer. Guilt swept over him in a wave again. He knew he was being a dick, and he didn’t mean to push this boy away… he didn’t want to push him away, but it was all he had every known. His face contorted as he squeezed his eyes shut not to let a single tear out. He hated this. He hated himself. He hated the constant turbulence of his emotions. Careers were never stable as it was, and he was coming to find that a recently victorious Career was even worse.

Julian quickly brought his hands up to shield his face, taking a third step away from Mace. “I—I didn’t really mean that,” he said, his voice shaking. “It’s just that…ugh!” He grunted in frustration, his entire body tensing as he clenched his fists. “How do you make me so nervous!?” Julian asked angrily, as if Mace had control of this effect over little blonde fireball.

A small gasp of surprise escaped Julian’s lips as Mace quite suddenly ripped off the outer layers of his ridiculous Capitol costume. Thankfully Julian’s stylist weren’t as gaudy as those of Ten, but then again, the upper District’s were always rewarded with the more talented designers. He was thankful for the lightweight silvery material of his top at the moment, for it did not amplify the heat that seemed to be spreading through the room. Mace reducing the amount of clothing he adorned was certainly not helping Julian’s nerves.

Julian removed his hands from his face and tucked them back around his ribcage to physically shield himself once more. This feeling of nervousness was almost entirely foreign to him. Even with Midas, he had never actually felt nervous. Julian had always been in control; he always knew where the gentle giant stood. But Mace… Mace was another type of giant entirely. He was fiery and brazen and powerful. Comparing the two—Mace and Midas—somehow didn’t seem right, though. They didn’t fit well in the same world, and Julian felt guilty for letting his mind wander to such a place.

After glaring at Mace’s smirk for a few moments, Julian finally found a reply, “Has anyone ever told you that you are absolutely infuriating?” Recovering his thunder, Julian removed his arms from his torso and placed his hands on his hips as he stood tall once more… well… it was hardly tall in comparison to the towering boy before him. Still, Julian’s raw energy is what gave him his large presence. “And don’t look at me like that,” he said addressing Mace’s knowing smirk. Julian pressed his own lips together to stop himself from grinning in return. He silently scolded himself for even admitting his nervousness aloud. Once again, Mace’s mere presence had led him to blurt out something he never had any intention of asking or revealing.

Above the low mumble of the party crowd, a slow, melodic tune could be heard from the band as if to remind Julian of his setting. He knew he should get back to the party, back to his duty as a new Victor, but these moments with Mace were the first time he had felt even a glimmer of contentment in over a year. His peace had not come with revenge or with Victory as Julian had long hoped. Though he had not placed his finger on it yet, that was exactly what he felt now in the company of the Victor of District Ten. He didn’t want this unknown feeling to end so abruptly, but he knew the confinement of his arena of solitude awaited his return. The thought quickly revoked the peace and warmth. He didn’t want to go back.

Julian took a step forward, his body instinctively pulling itself to be closer to this boy he was so unwillingly drawn to. Whatever may have been said next would have to remain unknown however, which is a pity because Julian had so many things to say. The moment was interrupted though, and it was Julian’s own father who now sent the boy plummeting back into the lonely red sands.

“Ahem,” Serge Bryze roughly grunted from the entrance to the circular corridor. The only thing similar between Serge and his son was their eyes. Otherwise, they were polar opposite. Serge was tall, dark and solidly built, and intimidating in a variety of other ways. Julian quickly stopped in his tracks, and his eyes darted to his father. Their eyes did not meet however, for Serge’s matching cold stare was upon Mace with a look of utter disdain. He did not approve of citizens of lower Districts, and he certainly did not approve of the way he had seen Mace look at his son. Only Midas was allowed to look at Julian in that way; he had been a second child to the Bryze’s, practically raised in their home. He was not going to tolerate some boy from District Ten even toying with the idea of his son. It certainly did not help the moment either that Mace’s clothes were all sorts of disheveled. “Julian, people are asking for you.” Serge tilted his head slightly, his glaring eyes not leaving Mace’s before he turned and walked away.

Julian clenched his jaw, of course knowing what his father was thinking. He looked back at Mace, his own eyes cold again. Feeling that way was too good to last, and that unidentified peace was not allowed in Julian’s punishment. There was no need to force himself not to smile now, those moments were gone. He should have known better than to even let himself feel such things in the first place—those cold, stony walls of his remained up for a reason, now more so than ever.

“That’s my dad,” Julian said quietly, as if Mace wouldn’t have already known. “He’s right; I should probably go back.” He looked to the hallway that led back to the crowds, then looked solemnly back to Mace one more time for the evening. Just as they had that very first day the two had met on Mace's tour, Julian's eyes locked with his for just a moment, searching once more for a lifeline. “Mace ... Just so you know, I had hoped I would see you again too.” With his parting words, Julian walked back through the hall without another word to the boy who would become his peace. He wondered vaguely if he would see Mace along the Victory Tour, and just how he would maintain his barriers when he had to face him again. He didn't want to put them back into place, but he just knew he had to... for both his sake and Mace's. The warmth of their time together was now gone and Julian was left once more with the truth of himself, and whether Mace wanted to believe it or not, he was horrible. He was a monster, and monsters aren't allowed to feel that way.

With the tour several months away though, those worries could wait. All that lay ahead in Julian’s mind now were the desolate red sands of his eternal prison. So he trudged through the crimson particles back to the sea of party-goers, back to yet another level of the glass towers. Alone and broken, just as he deserved.

so give me reason to prove me wrong
to wash this memory clean
let the floods cross the distance in your eyes
let it be enough to reach the truth that lies
across this new divde