{ saul, the bastard johnwayne | d2 | fin }

[attr="id","sectionTitleWord"]Family is nothing but trouble.

That's what his mother always said, at least. Saul didn't believe her back then, but why should he? Apart from her, he'd never had one.

He'd always insist that it didn't bother him — and for the most part, it didn't.

But sometimes, he'd lie awake at night, dreaming of a family, of a father that would play catch with him, of a brother who would wrestle with him, of a sister who would prove to him that girls could do anything he could do — better.

At least — that was until got them.

He was ten, then, when his father decided that maybe it was worth acknowledging his bastard children. And within a month he had what he always dreamed of: his old man, a grumpy bastard; his sister, everything he always envied.

As soon as family was thrust upon him, Saul knew that everything his mother had ever told him was true: family was nothing but trouble.

Wayne Johnwayne — the boy's father — dropped in every now and again, when he was especially lonely. He was nothing to admire. A drunk and a mercenary, Saul wanted nothing to do with the dark-hearted bastard that finally — finally — decided the boy was worth claiming.

Maybe it was the renewed spotlight: with Dan, with Elya in the Games, it was as if the name Johnwayne finally meant something other than dirt, than scum, than poor decisions and regrets and everything else that went along with classlessness. Saul deserved better than a brand new surname that was synonymous with mud, than trash. He got the opposite. If there was anything that implied worse than Saul Stone, it was Saul Johnwayne.

He opted to keep going by Saul the Bastard.

It matched the black heart he'd been born with, anyway.

All in all, his life only changed in fractions: Wayne came around twice a year, for his birthday and for Ratmas. Saul never cared about the man. And why should he? It wasn't as if being Wayne Johnwayne's son had any bearing on how the boy was raised. It was Arra Stone who'd determined that the boy would be every bit the career that his lineage demanded; it was Saul the Bastard himself that decided that he would live up to the legacy that District Two had laid out for him.

By half, he was cursed by a sister. Lilibeth Lyon-Johnwayne was everything that Saul spent his child wishing he was: a Career of legitimate pedigree, of wealth and privilege, of sense and of natural skill. She never had to work for everything that the Stony bastard wished he was.

It was worse that every time they sparred, she came out on top. That wasn't fair. She had the training, had the wealth — even before she was a Johnwayne, she was a Lyon, and whether or not they were neighbors was of no consequence; Every luxury that could be afforded to a child — to a bastard, like they both were — was afforded to her, but never to him.

Saul wasn't capable of not resenting her for it.

After all, they'd always been neighbors — and she'd always been better — before either were claimed as Johnwaynes.

No matter what he did, Saul could never seem to compensate for the training, for the wealth, for the — dare he say it — raw ability that Lilibeth had always seemed to possessed. They may have sparred a hundred, a thousand times since he was born — and a hundred, a thousand times she came out on top.

Maybe he was always doomed to second place.

And if he was, he would still come out ahead of his cousins.