blood is richer than gold {cato | jb}

One visitor was far more than Ivar expected, yet he sat on the same chair, eyes locked on the door wondering if anyone else would come in. Surely someone in his family would at least come and say goodbye, but even that was beyond any expectation. Volunteering for the games was only the first step of his life, and now he would walk in the footsteps of the many great people who've ventured into the arena before him. Victor's became his idol. Every single one of them fought to prove how strong they truly were. A lot of time he yearned to watch the games he was too young to remember, or the games that happened before he was born. Just to learn what it was like for them. Figuring out how each arena changed. But most importantly it offered him a better view into training.

With volunteering, maybe hope would spread to the less fortunate, yet in all reality Ivar didn't care about them. They were just a stepping stone in his way of success. Training taught him a lot, but it didn't show him how many people would one day chant his name as a famous celebrity. That was his goal. Right now he was trapped inside four wall surrounded by the empty thoughts of nobody caring. Eedun gave him what he needed, and it was up to him to use the advice to get himself ahead. He saw how people looked at him, yet it didn't stop him from fulfilling his dream. It wouldn't. In his mind he had already won. Now was the time to show his family what he was truly capable of.

Yet a heavy sigh left his chest. He expected Sigurd not to show, but somewhere deep inside he had hoped Ubbe or Hvitserk, or any other Hammerfell would show, but apparently he was wrong. Like the many times before. The seventeen year old knew holding his family to higher expectations would end with disaster, yet he couldn't help it. It was a dream lingering before him, like the crown, his own family was too far to hold onto. His eyes locked on the floor wondering who would enter when the door flew open once more.