Prompts in Panem

PART 2:

Ch4 The Egg

That Evening

Katniss had never felt so connected to another creature whether it be human or animal. She stood by the fireplace, watching the egg. It was held in a cradle made of stone with hot stones around it. They placed the cradle close to the fireplace. Haymitch said it was important to keep the egg hot.

Her hand traveled to her amulet. She played with the gold talisman. She picked it up and stared at it once more. It looked like two golden birds wrapped around a black pearl. The day she had been crowned Queen, Haymitch had surprised her with the Amulet. It added fuel to the fire that was in her mind. She was immersed in a cauldron of ambiguity.

Her life was an enigma. She didn't learn of her birthright until she was eighteen, and then there were two more years of silence until Finnick brought her the egg. She dreamt about it from the time she was a babe. Haymitch had all of the answers, but it was easier to blast open a mine shaft than get anything out of him. No matter how many times she broached the subject of her past, Haymitch eluded her questions. She was frustrated, she was fighting a war she did not understand. She was a Queen with no heritage.

It wasn't until Finnick left that Haymitch told her he was going to privately train her to use her magic. Haymitch did not want anyone else to know that she was magical. He did not let her leave their dwelling during the day. It was only with the advent of Peeta that she was allowed to join the raids.

Katniss stepped back from the fire. She sat in her chair, looking out into the inky darkness. Questions kept swirling in her had her people had a visceral reaction to the amulet?

What was the meaning of this amulet?

Why was Peeta bonded to her?

Why hadn't she heard his voice again since last week?

She reached out once more with her mind, but she received silence in return.

Katniss hugged her knees to her chest. For as far back as she could remember, her people mined for precious commodities that were traded with the people of the Highland. Then one day Highland raised their prices, then blocked the only source of water, and refused to trade. The people of Midland were pushed deep within the caves of the Midland Mountains.

Queen Verity had declared war with them.

Katniss did not want to fight. Nonetheless, they prepared for war. For weeks, their strongest men and women trained. They looked for the best scenario on how to lay siege to Highland Castle.

Queen Verity had a massive army. And there were unconfirmed rumors that most were mercenaries from other lands. Closing her eyes, Katniss thought of the map she studied daily. Thus far, there was no clear way to lay siege to Highland Castle. Its walls were thick and some said protected by deep magic. Only a magical being could break through their defenses.

Haymitch said she had the ability to breach it, but her magic would be depleted. Their hopes lay with Peeta. The dragon could easily take down the walls once he was born. However, Katniss did not want to use Peeta. She didn't want to think that war was his destiny.

Katniss did not want to have the blood of her people spilled, or the blood of the people of the Highland. But, then again, peaceful diplomacy had failed. The people of the Midland were cut off from trading with other lands. They did not have access to food or water except for what they could find in the mountains.

The people of the Highlands had all the access to the land and to the water. They could trade with others as they border the Iron Sea. The only territory they did not broach was the Verbotem Forest and the Western Mountains. No one from the Highlands was permitted to go there. There were stories of beasts of unnatural semblance called Muttations that roamed those woods.

In order to reach the cave where Peeta lay, Finnick had to cross Vebotem. He was lucky to have made it back. He still would not speak of the horrors he faced there. Finnick had left a youth tinged by idealism. He returned as a man, grounded in realism, a very good-looking man. Her cheeks burned pink as she recalled his golden physique. He smelled like saltwater, but also sweet like honey. Katniss bit her bottom lip as she thought of how good Finnick smelled.

"I see you have a crush."

The voice startled her.

Katniss looked around and then realized it was Peeta. She stood and walked to the egg.

"Now you wish to speak to me?"

Katniss could see the dragon moving within the black onyx egg. The voice within her head sounded young. However, Katniss felt that it was wise beyond its years.

He chuckled. "I do not like to share."

"I am not some trophy to be won."

"I did not call you a trophy." Peeta was taunting her.

"But you are treating me as if I am chattel or a bed," Katniss was getting angry. She had never treated anyone thusly. She had the utmost care and respect for everyone.

Peeta laughed at her outrage. "You are so innocent," he said in a haughty voice.

"Take it back." Her anger flared, and she could not understand why. She was tough and had done things she was uncomfortable with because they had benefited her people.

"No," he purred.

"You mock me."

"I am only being truthful with you."

"No, you are annoying me."

Peeta laughed. "You will never mate with another human."

"I must marry one day," Katniss said, lifting her nose in the air.

"Is that right?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I have to…to think about available candidates. It is only natural that I find Finnick handsome."

"Hmmm," Peeta said.

Katniss could picture him, as if he were with her in human form, lifting his eyebrow, mocking her.

"I must produce an heir…and Finnick is fit. He could provide me with strong heirs."

"So, you wish to marry." His voice was so cheeky.

She stomped her foot. "Yes. I've always wanted to get married."

"Liar."

Her cheeks burned brightly. They were hot to the touch when her cool fingers flew to them.

"Be quiet!" Katniss demanded.

Peeta laughed.

Angrily, Katniss stomped away from the egg and climbed into bed.

"Aren't you going to say goodnight, sweetheart," Peeta cooed.

Katniss growled in response, turning her back to him, and went to sleep.

In the morning, she was at practice. She was dressed in all black with leather trousers and chain mail. She spun around as Finnick swung at her with his sword. His skill with a sword had improved. Katniss thrust her sword using the flat edge and pushed him back, making him turn around, which allowed her to kick him in the back.

Finnick fell to his knees, but quickly got up and hunched over. "You've grown as a fighter?"

"I've had to join the night parties to gather grain." Katniss noticed the muscles in Finnick's arms, and this tiny distraction put her in peril. Finnick was nearly on top of her before she felt a burst of energy pulse from her amulet. It knocked Finnick on his back.

"FINNICK!" Katniss ran to him.

Finnick groaned before he sat up. "Well, that was unexpected."

"Are you hurt?"

"No, just embarrassed," Finnick said, giving her a grin. "When did you start using magic?"

"I didn't. I've never…" She stammered. "It just happened."

"I told you I don't like sharing." Peeta's voice wound through her head.

"Oh, shut up!" Katniss replied.

"Sorry?" Finnick said.

"No, not you," Katniss replied. "It's the dragon."

"He's…" Finnick pointed to his temple.

"Yes, I can hear him again," Katniss sighed. "He's annoying."

"Are you two done flirting?" Haymitch said.

Katniss felt heat rush to her cheeks. She could hear Peeta laughing at her. She wished he would be quiet. Katniss cleared her throat. "What is it, Haymitch?"

"Come along, we have news."

Katniss sighed as she left Finnick behind and walked along with Haymitch.

"The spy?" Katniss whispered.

Haymitch pulled a piece of parchment from inside his coat and handed her the missive. Her heart fell as she read. Queen Verity is planning to hire mercenaries. Katniss only had two battalions, nearly the entire population of Midland. Queen Verity had nearly double that.

"I need to know how many, Haymitch?"

"I will find out."

Ch5 Queen Verity

That Next Night

Verity awoke with a scream on her lips. She could see the flames, while light blasted through her body. In her bed, she shook her fists balling the silken sheets.

For the majority of her life, she had one singular dream. It was always the same. A woman stood upon a turret looking down at her Kingdom. Then the sound of rushing waters, followed by being engulfed by flames so hot they were white. There was no potion, no sacrifice, nothing took away that dream.

The Witch told her it was nothing. When she was younger Verity believed the Witch. However, as she grew older and began to look like the woman on the turret, Verity thought her dreams may be part of a prophecy. The Witch told her that it was a memory of how her parents died. They were burned in a burst of flames.

Satisfied with the explanation, Verity put the dream aside. Then recently she had begun having them more frequently. Now Verity wasn't so sure.

She lit a candle by her bed and looked around the room. Everything in the room was white, even in the darkness. White was the color of her family crest.

Her family motto was Puritas Vincet.

She picked up her mirror to glance at her features.

Verity was older now, into her third decade. Thankfully the magic of the old woman kept her looking young. She had ruled from a young age. Then one day when she was ten and five the old Witch told her there was a disturbance in the land.

At the time, Verity had been expanding her kingdom. They had been waging war for a long time with the people of Midland. The Midland kingdom was composed of a collection of chiefdoms and she had conquered the majority of their lands. Verity had successfully laid siege to the last vestige of power Ore Silvae and had driven the remnant into the Midland Mountains. She had gifted the property to Lord Undersee; he had slain the Chieftain In-Nucis Lyme.

It was her intent when she was twenty and five to cut off their water and force them out of their hiding place. She had sent engineers to see how she could cut off Midland from the water they needed. The engineers had found a way to collect the water into a small lake at the foot of the Midland Mountains.

However, the Witch had always guided her in matters of state, and never once had the old blind bat been wrong. Verity trusted the woman because she had saved her life against Midland. They had killed her parents, and she swore vengeance and to uphold the code.

When the Witch told her that there was a threat to her power in the Midlands, Verity was delighted with the woman's words of warning.

Though the dam she built allowed irrigated water to trickle through the Mountains, she controlled the waterway and they were powerless, and at her mercy. The water that drained into Denby Lake gave Highland increased yield in their farmland and weakened Midland. Verity laughed at their pathetic claims for peace.

Getting up, she padded to the window and looked down at the courtyard. The smooth white stone reflected the moon above. In the distance, she could see the gently sloping green pastures of her kingdom. She'd been the stewart of these people and proclaimed Queen by her people.

She lived by the code set up by her family, the code they ruled by. The code that ran through her veins.

To protect one's self-interest

To live for fortune and glory

To demand reward

To question those placed in authority

To win at all costs

To maintain the purity of the Highland

To persevere unto the end

To Spare No One

To Show Strength instead of Weakness

She was instructed by her mentor that the people of Midland were to be destroyed as they were evil bottom dwellers who killed her parents and would kill her if they got the chance. Anyone caught dallying with those vile creatures was immediately put to death.

The people of the Highlands were a better class and they were being terrorized by the people of Midland. They had foolishly come for peace as if they had any right after what they had done. They were barbarians.

Verity knew a war was coming and she was preparing her people for that eventuality.

"ANOTHER RAID," came the cry from the courtyard.

Verity slipped on a robe as she quickly descended the stairs toward the courtyard. 'Twas beldam that night as the alarm was sounded and wounded were brought in. Poor farmers burned, terrorized, half-dead serfs of her realm. Her white robe floated around her as she ran toward the injured, her gut twisting in horror.

"Close the gates," she ordered.

The fools were letting people in. They needed to keep people out!

"Quickly," Verity reached out to a young squire. "Fetch me the old Witch."

The squire's eyes widened. "The Witch?"

Verity struck down the boy. "I am your Queen, fetch me the Witch," Verity ordered.

The young squire jumped up, and bobbed his head, "Yes, your grace," he said before running off to complete his errand.

Verity moved forward. An old lady with grizzled gray hair and soulful brown eyes sat in a corner clutching a young girl. Verity hated blood, hated the sight of death and destruction. But most of all she loathed weakness.

"What happened?" Verity demanded.

"They attacked our village, your Highness," The old woman trembled.

"The one on the outskirts of the Castle?"

"Yes." The old woman said not daring to raise her eyes.

Fury swept through her at the account. Verity lifted her hand to slap the old woman, but instead, she walked away. The woman was not worth her time. The people of Midland were becoming more daring. They were raiding the village that lay on the outskirts of the city of Highland.

She found a guard. "Quickly, gather riders. They are attacking the Highland village."

The man looked pale at the order.

"GO!" She growled.

The man nodded and ran.

Verity rubbed her aching head. She dispassionately watched a streak of blonde run out. Verity stood and watched as Adeline ran forward with a healing kit.

"May I help," Adeline asked, kneeling down on the ground.

"Fine," Verity said. "And be quick about it Delly."

Adeline nodded and ran into the small crowd of people.

"My daughter, she, she…" the woman cried.

The bereavement, the sense of hope was like a wave that Adeline couldn't take. She quietly asked, "If you let me examine the child?"

It was then the woman saw who she'd been speaking to, her eyes widened, "Oh your -"

"Please allow me," Adeline held out her hands.

The woman opened her arms to allow Adeline to see the child. The child was wounded.

"Come with me, we have to take her to a quiet place so that I can heal her."

Adeline led the woman inside the stable, the only place Verity deemed worthy for the surfs.

From the door, Verity could see Lady Crane and Lady Undersee snickering and calling Adeline Cartwright, Delly. Verity laughed because Adeline flinched when she heard them use the nickname.

"You're grace," the young squire said bowing.

"Thank goodness," Verity said.

The squire backed away slowly.

"Witch!" Verity walked up to the blind woman and demanded. "You couldn't foresee this?"

"There are things that not even the wisest eye can foresee, Your Grace."

"Why does this keep on happening?"

"They are a blight on our people and must be eliminated," the blind Witch said. "They have a leader, but I cannot see them."

The Witch's voice hissed, and Verity's skin prickled with fear.

The witch said nothing. She stood facing the northeast, in the direction of the Midland Mountains. She sniffed the air as if trailing a scent. What is it that I sense? Who are you?" Her hands lifted and she whispered, "Equum et cinerem reuela qui redolet, da mihi potentiam suam mihi revelandi faciem!"

"Did you hear me?"

The witch stood still but then said, "Gah!"

"Care to explain what happened?"

"I cannot see who their leader is but they smell of horse and ash," the Witch said.

Verity arched an eyebrow, obviously, their leader was a warrior.

"You must find their leader and destroy him," the Witch said. "They are powerful."

Verity closed her eyes. She knew her control was tenuous at best. Her Lords and Knights were unloyal. She did not trust them and knew this leader was a threat to her throne. "How do I find them?"

"You must camp out on Denby at the foot of the mountains. There they will be revealed."

Verity thought about who was the closest to the Midland Mountains. Lord Undersea was a day-and-a-half ride to the foot of the mountains. The Cranes were the closest, but Lord Crane and his son Seneca were not strong enough. "I will send Undersee and his men to keep watch and engage in battle."

"That is a wise tactic, my Queen," the Witch said.

Ch 6 The Boon

That Night

Katniss had another exhausting day of training, followed by planning, then she and her riders had gone out to Crane, a village that was located southeast of the Midland Mountains. They left at twilight and rode for three hours to reach the village. They were able to take a few chickens, a good haul of vegetables, and most of all, hay. Another group was even able to bring back water from Denby Lake as well as fish.

They had wells in the caves that were connected to the above-ground river. However, because of the dams, Queen Verity had erected they needed to ration water. When they opened the dams the water within the wells rose and they were able to gather it and store it in specially constructed tanks. The extra barrels of water were always welcomed. Especially when they caught fish as well, an extra bonus of meat.

No one was maimed or killed in the raid, for which Katniss was very thankful.

They arrived shortly before daylight.

"The raid was successful?" Haymitch asked.

"They were not waiting for us," Katniss yawned.

"Good," Haymitch nodded, as he walked with her. "And you are sure no one saw you?"

"No, one saw me."

"You adhered to the plan?"

"Yes Haymitch, I adhered to the plan we devised."

"Katniss," Haymitch said in his authoritative voice. "What is the fifth rule?"

Katniss stopped walking; she couldn't believe Haymitch was going to make her recite the fifth rule.

"What is the fifth rule of the code?"

Biting her tongue she recited, "To obey authority."

"I understand you are my Queen," Haymitch said. "But I must insist you follow my rules. I only demand you follow them to keep you safe."

Katniss's ire dampened. Haymitch was the only parent she ever had and he loved her as if she were born from his loins. "I know."

They continued walking.

"Have we heard from the spy?"

"Not yet," Haymitch said. "But things cannot be rushed."

"I know, but I just wish I knew what that woman is planning. Haymitch, there are too many variables at play, and the more information we have…"

"Child, I taught you that."

Katniss shut up.

Haymitch gave her a look that showed he was as frustrated as she was.

When they arrived at her chambers, Haymitch spoke. "You should rest."

Katniss nodded before entering her chambers alone.

Rue, her chambermaid, was waiting.

"Milady," Rue said, bowing her head.

Katniss had told her not to bow, but Rue always bowed her head or curtsied, much to Katniss' frustration.

There was a hot bath, and she sighed with pure pleasure. "How was he?"

"The egg was restless, Milady," Rue said.

"Thank you for watching him."

"'Twas nothing, your Grace."

"You have returned," Peeta said. He sounded different to her ears, not childlike as if he were older.

"Good night, Rue."

"Yes Milady, you as well."

Katniss shut the door. Wearily, she faced the egg. The surface of the egg swirled with twinkling lights as if it contained the power of the universe.

"Are you upset with me?"

Katniss didn't answer back.

"I am sorry for vexing you. It is amusing; your temper is hotter than dragon flames."

Katniss could not help but smile.

"I see I amuse you as well."

"Sometimes when you are nice to me," Katniss said, hovering over the heat.

"You smell of horse, go bathe. I'd rather not die of noxious fumes." And there it was again, the familiar cheekiness.

"I will cede to your request but only because I cannot withstand my own stench," Katniss answered.

"Where did you go? I could not sense you."

"We went on another raid," Katniss muttered as she removed her clothes and folded them into a neat pile.

"I noticed Finnick did not go with you?"

"No, he did not." Katniss was too tired to take his bait. She stretched as she said, "Sejanus went with me and so did a few others."

"Sejanus, who is he?"

"He is a knight. Technically he is more of a boy than a man." Katniss yawned. "He is very polite and sweet. His mother is a wonderful cook. His father is ambitious and aspires for his boy to do great things."

"I see he does not excite you like Finnick does."

Katniss laughed as she sat in the water and sighed. Her sore muscles were relieved.

"No one excites me like Finnick does," Katniss recalled the way Finnick's muscular arms gleamed with sweat.

Peeta grumbled something.

"What did you say? I did not understand you."

"What is so appealing about that preening peacock?" Peeta asked.

"What is a peacock?"

"A bird whose male has a lot of pretty feathers and prances about like a fool."

"Finnick does not resemble a fool, Peeta. He is quite fit and tall," there was laughter in her voice as she described Finnick. Peeta's silence was golden. "Why are you so jealous of him?"

"We are bonded Katniss. I have been waiting for more than two millennia for you. I have dreamt of your coming. When your hands touched me, I knew your heart immediately. I will not willingly share that which I have been waiting for."

She did not expect this answer. She lifted her hand out of the water and felt the warm air in the room. Magic wove itself through her fingers. Her mind went to the impending war with Highland. "We do not have enough of an army. What if I die?"

"I will never allow such a thing, I swear it," he said fiercely.

"Peeta I am human, mortal. I have a date of inception and I have a date to expire. I have been fighting all of my life. And I know that this war may be my end."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Peeta said.

"Peeta…"

"Katniss, your life and mine are irrevocably intertwined. If you are harmed, I am harmed. If you die, I shall die."

Katniss sat up, in the bathwater. "Can a dragon be killed?"

"If you should perish, I shall perish. My heart belongs to you, Katniss."

Katniss sunk low in the water. Forbidden tears came to her eyes; she could not imagine him dying.

"Do not sadden yourself, Katniss; our journey is just beginning." He said tenderly to her. "Go on and finish bathing."

"Peeta," she said, sounding a lot younger than her years. "Why did you choose me?"

"The logical answer would be you are the one true heir of the house of Ehrlich. But I chose you because your heart is as pure as the driven snow. You have no malice toward your fellow man. Now even as we speak you do not wish to harm your enemies. You still wish for peace."

"I."

"Katniss, there is evil in this land that must be purged."

Katniss could not dispute this fact. Queen Verity was becoming more tyrannical as the days passed.

"You are the only one who can save the land and its people. Together we shall bring peace to the land."

"But they have a bigger army."

"Have faith," Peeta said.

She opened her hand, summoning the sponge. It flew into her hand. She began to gently wash her skin until the stench of her horse had been removed. The conversation and the reality of their situation weigh heavily in her mind. Getting out of the tub, she dried herself and hummed.

"You are tired."

"I am," Katniss said, looking into the fire. "I am very tired, Peeta."

"Sing for me?" Peeta asked.

"How do you know I can sing?"

"Your humming is not lamentable."

Katniss chuckled as she climbed into bed.

"I may sound like a hog right before they butcher him for a feast."

Peeta chuckled. "Humor me. I was lonely without you."

Katniss sighed and pulled her legs to her chest. She understood what he meant. Tonight as she rode, she missed the sound of his voice.

"A boon."

"Fine."

She began to sing a song she heard Maude Ivory sing when she was little. "Filioli, audite vocem meam praeter vos. O virgo mulier! Rex noster puer, festina et vide; Terra tua, tibi vera. Sol et luna duce nos; Vsque ad horam gloriae nostrae."

Katniss stopped singing. "I told you I would sound atrocious." Peeta did not reply. Getting comfortable in bed she closed her eyes.

As she fell asleep she heard him say, "Your voice is as pure as your heart."

A smile bloomed on her face as she fell asleep.

Ch7 The Scrimmage

One Month Later

"Lord Undersee," his squire Owen called.

"Owen," Lord Undersee greeted. He was surveying the latest map of the area.

The Queen had ordered him to the fringes of the Mountain. There were rumors amongst the Lords that the deadliest raids were not the fault of the nomads that lived in the Midlands. It was said that they were carried out by the creatures that resided in the Verbotem Forest.

Lord Undersee didn't know what to believe. There was dissent amongst the Lords because of the higher taxes, and their lands were being raided from both the west and the east. Although the taxes hurt, Lord Undersee was devoted to his Queen.

Their Queen had conquered more lands granting her the most valiant Knights. Lord Undersee had benefited from those earlier victories. He was bequeathed land and one of the ruins to rebuild. He swore to uphold the Queen and her Code. The Code had been good to him.

The opportunity to serve the Queen was an honor. He came out of his tent and looked toward the mountains. They were steep and formidable. One could not march a large group of men without first sending scouts to mark a trail. The Queen was wise to ask him to take a small contingency. The Queen never descended into the fray of battle herself. She had a keen mind and was a fine strategist.

Lord Undersee and a small company of thirty Vassals and Knights had camped out near the village of Denby. They erected tents and made sure they were hidden in the woods so as to not be detected by those on the mountain. A full moon cycle had passed since they had been given the order to lay in wait for the enemy of his queen.

"Our scouts report that there is movement coming from the mountains."

"Show me." He followed his squire to an outcropping of trees.

"We spotted horses," his Vassal Brutus said.

"Here," Owen extended him a slim conical cylinder.

Lord Undersee took the looking glass that they used to spy from distances. He could see horses standing guard. One of the horses had a bridle. Also, wild horses were not prone to gather in the mountains. They preferred open fields of land. These horses had to belong to their enemy.

The problem Lord Undersee had was he did not know where the horses came from. The people of Midland had a myriad of entrances and tunnels in the mountains. His group once came upon an entrance, but easily became lost within the depths of the mountain. The horses were a favorable sign. It meant the enemy was going to attempt another raid.

It was still light outside, but they had less than an hour before the sunset. He counted three horses, not much of a fight. He could easily win this scrimmage. It would be a feather in his cap before all of the other Lords.

"No doubt they are getting ready for another raid," Owen said.

"Prepare the men," Lord Undersee commanded.

"Yes, My Lord," Brutus said.

Lord Undersee wanted very much to hand a trophy to his Queen. As he walked toward where his horse was kept he noted the Queen's carriage was approaching. He was surprised, it was a two-and-a-half-day ride from Highland Castle. The Queen must have stopped off at Briota Ius, Lord Cartwright's Castle for the night. The men dropped to their knees. Lord Undersee quickly bowed as the carriage came to a halt before him.

The Queen's personal guard opened the door.

"Your Grace."

"Lord Undersee," Verity answered, once she had safely exited the carriage. She wore a white gown that blended into a soft blush. She wore her breastplate, and her blonde hair was woven into her crown. At her hip, her sword. "I came to survey the situation."

"So magnanimous of you. My men will be inspired by your presence."

The Queen walked to the map on the table where he had been standing before Owen sought his attention. "Two fortnights have passed, and your last report was less than inspiring?"

"We have not seen any movement from the mountains. We have kept constant vigil, your Grace. And…"

"Is this map recent?"

The Queen cut off what he was about to say. "Yes, your Grace. It is the latest. I was studying it when I was called by my Squire."

"Oh?" Verity raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, we have new news."

"Please, do tell," Verity said.

"We were just getting ready to engage the enemy in battle."

Verity extended her hand and nodded toward the spying device he still held in his hand. He immediately handed it to her.

"I only see three horses grazing."

"Yes, we suspect they will be riding today. It is my hope to catch them unaware."

"You should not travel up the mountain," Verity said. "Your men shall be trapped."

"What do you suggest?"

The Queen examined the map. After a moment she pointed to a spot on the map. "You and fifteen of your men proceed to this point here and hide, this way when they leave the mountains, they will be surprised, and you can easily overwhelm them."

"An advantageous plan, my Queen." Lord Undersee nodded to Owen who bowed and walked away to gather the men he would be taking up the mountain.

"My five guards will be at the ready to assist you, if necessary."

"Thank you, your Grace," he bowed as he left the Queen's side.

Lord Undersee walked to his tent. "My horse," he called.

His Page Richard came with his horse. "My lord."

Lord Undersee mounted his steed and rode to meet his men. It was time to defeat the leader of the Midland.

A cool wind whipped around the Midland Mountain. On a wide ledge, there was a small patch of overgrown grass. The horses brayed as they grazed. They had a long night's voyage. Patiently waiting for their riders.

Within the Mountain, Katniss wore dark tights with padded leather trousers. She wore a gray chain mail underneath her matching breastplate. Katniss did not wear the armor the other riders wore because of her chosen weapon. She carried her bow and a sheath of arrows.

"Remember you must be careful," Haymitch said.

"I know, Haymitch." The plan was to travel to Denby. They dared not risk going further.

"Perhaps you should stay tonight."

"Haymitch, our resources are low. We have not left the mountain in a moon cycle because we have been training. We need the hay for the animals; they cannot provide us the milk we need for our young. Without the hay, we cannot fatten the animals that we slaughter to feed our people."

"Finnick can go in your stead," Haymitch suggested.

"Milady," Rue said, handing her the sword and scabbard.

"Thank you," Katniss replied as Rue helped her strap the sword and scabbard on.

"Katniss," Haymitch began.

"I am their Queen and this is my responsibility."

Haymitch was about to speak when someone called his name. They were bringing in the horses. Katniss went to her horse Arrow and began to put his saddle on. He was a magnificent beast with a white mark on his forehead that looked like an arrow.

"Perhaps Haymitch is right and you should stay," Peeta said.

"You do not have to answer to hungry children," Katniss muttered as she worked on making sure her saddle was tightly buckled.

"Katniss, you shouldn't be taking risks." Peeta sounded alarmed. "You should be waiting for me to hatch."

"Peeta, you know that I was raised with the Code of Old."

"Do not recite the Code of Old to me," he said testily, sounding like Haymitch when she outsmarted him.

Cheekily she questioned, "Have I vexed you, Peeta?"

Peeta chuckled. "My kind was there when the Code was written."

"Well then if you know the Old ways, then you can understand that heavy is the head that wears the crown. I must protect my people, especially the weak and defenseless."

"Katniss, I cannot be there to save you if something goes awry," he said.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but I must do my duty." Katniss took a deep breath.

"The dragon thinks you should stay behind?" Haymitch came up behind her.

"How?"

"When you speak to him, you mutter under your breath, and there are times you get a look on your face of clear annoyance. Other times you look as if you are far away."

"Oh," Katniss didn't even realize how strange her behavior would have appeared to her people. Only a handful knew of Peeta's existence. Including Mags, a frail old woman who knew a great deal about dragons.

"I did not realize you could communicate through your mind with him."

Katniss finished her preparations and looked to Haymitch. "I thought I was speaking out loud."

"The bond is strong between you then."

"It is," Katniss sighed.

"What did he say?"

"He argued," Katniss rolled her eyes heavenward.

"And I am assuming your answer was the same."

"Yes, he doesn't want me to leave and put my life in danger. "

"I cannot stop you, but stay alive."

Katniss nodded and mounted her horse.

Haymitch watched her joining the other riders he personally chose to ride with her. Blight, Sabyn, Wovey, Sejanus, Otto, Ginny, Wolf, Marcus, Tanner, Mizzen, and Lyme. All except for Sejanus were experienced warriors.

Something, though, did not sit right with him.

"What is the matter, Haymitch?" Finnick asked, appearing by his side. He had an apple in his hands.

"I do not feel this trip to be advantageous," Haymitch said.

"Do you want me to round up a few warriors and follow from behind?"

"Yes, do that."

Finnick nodded and walked away.

Katniss looked back to Haymitch and nodded.

The party took off and left through the main entrance of their peaceful realm. The thunder of the hooves resonated in the shaft. Normally Katniss would have felt the resounding joy of being able to leave to the world outside.

She'd only been topside a handful of times in her life. The freedom of inhaling the crisp warm air that was heavy with the smell of the peat and flowers invigorated her. This time, however, her stomach was wound tight.

Haymitch was never wrong. She needed to be vigilant.

When they came to the tunnels where they would split up, Katniss put up her hand in the signal to stop.

The riders came to a stop and waited.

"Tonight, we must be careful."

The riders looked upon one another. These raids were always dangerous.

"How so, your Grace?" Marcus asked.

"Haymitch had one of his premonitions," Katniss replied.

"What do we do now?" Lyme asked. Lyme was a Knight who was the strongest and bravest of warriors.

"We need the hay," Ginny commented.

"We shall break up and make our way topside through different entrances." Katniss decided quickly. "If there is no danger, ride to the village as planned. Take as much as you can carry and return back to Midland through a different path. Agreed?"

"Agreed," they all replied.

Katniss paused to look at each of them in the face. She then reiterated what Haymitch had told her before they left, "Guard yourselves well."

The riders all nodded.

The riders broke up into smaller groups and went into side tunnels. Sejanus, Lyme, and Wolf remained with her. Katniss spurred Arrow forward into one of the side tunnels. If there was something waiting for them there wouldn't be too many casualties.

She reached out to Peeta, "Wish me well?"

"I can protect you with our connection but you must stay in the shadow of the mountains," Peeta said. "Remember that you must stay within the shadow, I cannot help you otherwise."

Katniss felt a surge of energy coursing through her veins as she rode swiftly through the tunnel. When they came to the exit, Katniss slowed down. They were on the eastern side of the mountain. The farming fields were located to their west, around three hundred or so yards.

Katniss leaned forward, her ears catching the sound of something faint.

"What is it, Milady?" Sejanus asked.

"Do you hear that?" Katniss attuned her ears.

"It is the sound of battle," Lyme said.

"Your Grace, we need to get you to safety," Wolf urged.

"I cannot."

"It's not safe," Wolf tried once again.

Katniss closed her eyes, wishing she could see them. Things around her morphed. She could suddenly see things that were happening hundreds of yards away. It was dark out yet everything was bright as day as if she were standing in the midst of the battle.

Otto, Blight, and Ginny were not on their horses. The horses were fleeing. Her people were fighting against the Queen's men who wore the traditional white smock with the Queen's silver crest. Sabyn was atop of her horse and had slain a man, two lay on the ground, and one was injured. In the end, there were too many and they dragged Sabyn from her horse. Sabyn slapped her horse's hindquarters and it flew back into the mountain with the others' horses. "Otto, Sabyn, Blight, and Ginny were outnumbered and captured." Katniss could see them being restrained before a bald man with no neck slung them each over the backs of the Queen men's horses. "They are taking them to their camp."

"What do we do?" Lyme asked her hand on the pommel of her sword.

"We rescue them," Katniss said.

They crept out of the entrance quietly. Katniss could see Queen Verity's men leading her own people to a campsite hidden in the trees. She was no longer within the shadow of the mountain. She could no longer feel Peeta with her. Katniss was alone and must survive by her own wits.

"What is the plan?" Lyme asked.

"We follow them. Find where they are keeping them and bring them home," Katniss said.

They moved just outside the enemy's campsite. There were lit torches scattered throughout the camp allowing them to see what was happening. They unmounted their horses and hid in the trees. They watched the guards take Otto, Sabyn, Blight, and Ginny down from the horses that carried them. They were taken to a centrally located tent and were forced to kneel.

Katniss's heartbeat increased as she watched the tent's flaps open up. A tall beautiful blonde woman with a crown woven into her hair walked out. All of the men in the camp bowed or kneeled. This woman was Queen Verity. This is the woman Katniss was fighting against.

"Your Grace," a man dressed in richly colored robes called. "These are the Midland rabble we caught at the foot of the mountains."

"Excellent," the Queen exclaimed.

"Do you know who I am?"

Silence greeted her.

"I am your lawful ruler, Queen Verity."

There was no answer.

"I will spare your lives if you tell me who is your leader?"

If they didn't speak there was no doubt the Queen would certainly torture them. Her cruel treatment of her own people was legendary. Katniss could only imagine what horrors awaited her people.

"How many are there?" Katniss asked quietly.

"I have counted ten and six, but there must be more because there are easily nearly thirty horses," Lyme whispered.

"I saw them bring one into that tent over yonder," Wolf said.

Katniss turned to Wolf, Sejanus, and Lyme. "We need to get them out. I will make my way to that tree there and attack from the air. Wolf, you set all of their horses free and spook them into their midst. Lyme, you retrieve our people. Sejanus, you stay with our horses."

With the plan in place, Katniss knew her rain of arrows from the trees would be the most effective. As she moved about she saw a shadow hiding behind a tree. Katniss recognized him by his honeyed saltwater scent. "Finnick?"

Finnick grabbed her.

"Your Grace, what are you doing? You are outnumbered? Queen Verity is yards away."

"Finnick, I have a plan."

"Of course you do," Finnick muttered.

"How many are with you?"

"Seven, including myself," Finnick said.

"Wolf is going to let loose their horses into their camp. I need three of your men to climb the trees and shoot into their camp to cause more confusion. Lyme is going to go in to get our people and I need someone to have her back. Sejanus is there," Katniss said, pointing behind her. "Waiting for us with our horses."

"Katniss…" Finnick's words died on his lips as they heard the horses stampede the camp. There was no time for Finnick to speak to the men who came with him.

"Just have them clear a path for Lyme, and once she has Ginny, Blight, Otto, and Sabyn free, get out," Katniss urged, pushing Finnick away.

"QUICK, SAVE THE QUEEN!" A man shouted.

"TAME THE HORSES!"

Katniss quickly ran to the tree and climbed up. Another wave of horses came in as well and had sent the entire camp into upheaval. She could see Lyme making her way toward Ginny. From her vantage point, Katniss could see two men had spotted Lyme. She fired two arrows in quick succession at the two men who were running toward Lyme, swords drawn. They fell to their knees. As soon as the men fell it sent the camp into a further tizzy.

"WE'RE BEING ATTACKED!" A man yelled.

Finnick and his men attacked the camp. The chaos they unleashed by releasing the horses was replaced by the sound of clanging metal.

From her vantage point, Katniss could see the Queen had a sword in her hands but she was not using it, instead the woman was hiding behind some barrels. Lyme freed their people and was leading them away. Katniss was making sure their paths were clear, satisfied when they had made it out. Katniss then noted below that Finnick was fighting a brute of a man when another approached behind him.

From the safety of the tree, she shot Finnick's would-be assailant in the throat. Finnick drove his sword into the belly of the man he was fighting.

There was a torch nearby. Katniss climbed down to the nearest branch, hung down, lit one of her arrows, and sent it into the center tent where the so-called Queen was hiding.

The Queen screamed for water.

Katniss scrambled down the tree and ran with Finnick by her side. The others saw them leaving and started to make their way out as well. Katniss stopped at a torch and lit another arrow and shot it at another tent; it went up in flames and one of the trees caught fire.

Katniss caught the Queen watching her, but neither woman acknowledged the other. Instead, she turned and ran back to where the horses were. Finnick was atop her horse Arrow and was headed her way. He leaned down, extending his hand to her. Katniss grabbed his hand and was hefted up on top of her steed in front of Finnick. Together they joined the others.

As soon as she was within the shadow of the Mountain she began to glow as her connection with Peeta was reconciled.

"ARE YOU WELL!" Peeta's voice was panicked.

"I'm alive and well. We are all safe," Katniss sent back.

"Behind you!" Peeta warned.

Katniss looked back around Finnick. Her eyesight was enhanced once more. She could see there were four of Queen Verity's men following them on horseback. "We're being followed!" She shouted.

"What do you want me to do?" Finnick shouted back.

The queen's men were determined to catch them and would follow them into the tunnels. She and Finnick could try to lose them, but Katniss did not want to take the chance. "Slow down!"

"What?!" Finnick shouted.

"Slow down!" She shouted again.

Finnick slowed down and Katniss lept from the horse. "GO AHEAD!" Katniss ordered. She wanted to make sure they were safe. They spurred their steeds to move quickly to safety.

Standing to her full height, she located the four riders. Katniss felt a burst of energy pooling in her middle.

"Blast them," Peeta suggested.

Katniss concentrated on channeling her magic to her fingers. She yelled, "Prohibere," and a burst of magic exploded from the amulet and she used her hands to direct it at the riders. The Queen's riders were blasted off their horses.

Katniss could feel her energy waning. "Peeta," she whispered.

"Mea Carum," Peeta replied. She felt warmth spread through her body, giving her strength.

Katniss turned around and ran to where Finnick was waiting for her. "Go!" she shouted as she grabbed Finnick's hand and was hoisted back up on the horse.

Arrow shot forward into the nearest entrance to the caves. They rode at breakneck speed through the tunnel. When they made it back, Katniss turned to Haymitch, "Did the other riders get through?"

"Yes, and some have already returned with hay."

Katniss smiled, but then everything faded to black.

CH8 Revelation

Same Night

Verity was livid.

The Witch had told her to come out here. She said it was imperative for her to be present. Verity had listened to the woman and set out to the camp.

Verity thought that it would be a quick visit. One with a victorious outcome. Instead, it was a total fiasco.

She was sitting on a stool that was provided for her.

Verity stewed.

She watched Lord Undersee and his men battle the flames. Her once pristine dress was dirty. Her crown was askew, and her hair was a hornet's nest. She had twigs, and leaves and Merlin knew what else, was within it.

Lord Undersee, after rescuing her from behind the barrels, had left her by the ridge with two of her guards. She watched four of his men take off after the two Midlandians who had just escaped from their camp.

Verity closed her eyes and recalled the gorgeous male specimen and the female archer. The man was tall, muscular, chiseled, no doubt a man who knew how to pleasure a woman. The archer still looked like a child. She was slight, not very tall or impressive, and she wasn't pretty. There was something about the protective way that the man held the archer. It was as if they were lovers.

Mirthlessly she pulled a twig out of her hair. The archer stuck in her mind. Her skill with a bow was impressive. She shot arrow after arrow with quick, precise efficiency. Her flaming arrow made its mark, causing the fire, setting a dead tree to burn.

It was proof that the Midlandian's troops were well trained. Something her own were not. It reinforced the idea that she needed a capable army.

"Your Grace."

Verity looked up to see a young boy, no doubt a Page, kneeling before her with a chalice of water.

Taking the chalice, she drank deeply.

The young boy slowly backed away; his head bowed.

Verity breathed heavily as her mind began to replay what happened. She could not believe how quickly things had deteriorated. One moment she was about to interrogate a woman from the ragtag Midland raiding party, the next she was being pulled away as horses ran amok. It was all a carefully orchestrated rescue plan.

"Your Grace." Lord Undersee bowed deeply.

Verity nodded at the man.

"The fire is finally out."

Verity looked over his shoulder. The camp was burned. Thankfully this region did not have a dry summer. If the brush was dry, the entire region could have burned down.

"I want to know how this happened?" Verity demanded.

"They used the cover of darkness to their advantage." Lord Undersee did not look up, his head was still bowed. "Their leader must be cunning to outwit…"

"Outwit…" Verity growled. "Outwit whom?"

"I…I…I.." Lord Undersee stammered. "Whoever leads them, they had been…able to,"

"Tread careful, Lord Undersee."

Verity had gotten a look at whom she believed to be the new leader of Midland. It was a horrific beast appearing from the darkness. At first, Verity thought the woman was a man. She was over six-foot tall with a thick neck, cropped hair, and a muscular build. It was her face that betrayed her true sex. Given the time of night, a man would have had hair on his face. In the firelight her face looked soft and clean; it also revealed the leader to be an older woman.

"Outwit my men." Lord Undersee quickly said.

Verity raised an eyebrow.

"His men snuck up behind my Vassal guarding the horses and knocked him out. Spooked the horses before letting them lose in our camp. I myself removed you from danger."

"Was there only one man guarding over thirty horses?" Verity asked. It was irresponsible to have just one man in charge of so many horses. Lord Undersee needed at least three to four men.

"One Vassal, your Grace."

Verity stood, wanting to kick him. Lord Undersee winced as she neared him, but Verity walked away. She looked into the face of the men that were left. There had been thirty men, not including her five personal guards, or Lord Undersee and his Page. Lord Undersee only had only ten and four men left, and the boy. Four riders were out there following that riffraff. One of her guards was injured and another was dead.

Her hands balled out of pure anger.

The leader of Midland was an experienced warrior. She exploited the weaknesses in security. She then marched into camp easily and released the prisoners with fewer soldiers, half of whom were women. The Midland leader battled alongside her people. Whilst Verity hid herself behind some barrels. She noted how the Midlandians protected their leader and did not leave her side until she was out of their camp. None of Verity's subjects came to find her and stow her away to safety.

"No one paid heed to my person. I was left vulnerable, nearly burned when their archer set your tent on fire," Verity said facing the darkened night sky. There was something in the air that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. As if some door had been torn open tonight.

"For that, I should be put to death," Lord Undersee said.

Verity turned her eyes to him. He was right, his inept leadership was at the heart of this fracas. But he had found her in the end and brought her to safety, and set two guards with her.

He also did, on her order, send out four men after the last two Midlandians who had left the camp. Verity believed she could have broken the young girl she was going to interrogate. Someone needed to pay.

"Bring me the Vassal that was guarding the horses."

"Yes, your Grace," Lord Undersee said, turning to a man with his hand in a sling.

The others stepped away from the man. The man paled.

"Step forward," Verity said.

The man fell to his knees.

"If not for you, we would not have been attacked and lost many valuable Vassals and Knights."

"Your Grace," the man said terrified.

She took out her sword and ran it through him. His eyes went wide as his life drained from his face. Blood splattered on her dress and the man fell to the side.

"If you fail me, this will be your payment," Verity screamed at the gathered men before stomping away.

She stood at the ridge peering into the darkness. Suddenly a flash of bright light blinded her. It was followed by a rush of wind that knocked her over. Verity tried to grab onto something, but there was nothing in front of her.

"Your Grace!" Lord Undersee quickly caught her and helped her stand upright.

It took a few minutes for her eyesight to come back. As soon as it did she looked to Lord Undersee. "What was that!?"

"I do not know," Lord Undersee said.

"Do you think they are dead?" Verity whispered.

"I do not know."

"Lord Undersee, take two of my men and go up there. I want to know what happened."

Lord Undersee nodded, bowed, and left.

Verity was left waiting. "The rest of you salvage what you can. Make sure that we have shelter for the night. Set up a night watch. And someone, bury the dead."

The others began to do as she ordered. When Lord Undersee returned, she was comfortably sitting in her own tent. She had been using Lord Undersee's tent when the attacking Midlandians set it on fire. She had bathed and was wearing a blush-colored gown with white embroidered flowers and a white fur cape.

"Your Grace," Lord Undersee bowed.

"Well?"

"We found their bodies." Lord Undersee stopped speaking.

Her heartbeat furiously in her chest as terror filled her bones. "What happened to them?"

"They were burned. Unrecognizable. The Midlandians have some sort of weapon we've never seen before."

Verity stood and grasped the edge of the table. She turned around and faced Lord Undersee. "What are you not telling me?"

"Their flesh was burned, but their clothing was not singed. It did not even smell of smoke. Their horses were not even harmed."

Her skin was pin pickled. She expected them to be dead, but she didn't expect this. What sort of weapon did Midland have that could burn someone's flesh off but left their clothing untouched?

Verity wanted to go home, but it was dangerous traveling at night. Her mind grasped at straws until she came to one conclusion. The Witch would know what to do. She would have the answers.

"Tomorrow we leave for Highland Castle at first light." Verity sat down and wanted nothing more than to be hidden within the walls of her gilded cage.

PART 3:

Ch9 The Birth

Forty-Eight hours after the Scrimmage

Forty-eight hours slipped by quickly. Peeta was silent in that time. She had not heard from him since the battle at the foot of the mountains. It was true, she had not woken up until yesterday afternoon, but he would have said something by now, especially since Finnick had brought her a meal while she was in bed. The egg had become red hot. Katniss wondered if the fire was getting too hot. "Peeta, can you hear me?"

The egg moved and she felt the compulsion to pick him up. Her hands glowed as they neared the fire. She was not burned when she touched the egg. Gently, she lifted it from the stone cradle.

"Please be alive."

At that moment Finnick and Haymitch entered her room.

"Milady, is that advisable?" Finnick looked as if he was going to kick the egg from her hand.

The egg began to crack and Katniss wanted to scream as she felt the pain Peeta was feeling. Katniss gritted her teeth because she didn't want to show Haymitch or Finnick weakness.

She doubled over in pain.

"Haymitch!" Finnick panicked as he caught Katniss. "What is happening?"

"It must be the bonding," Haymitch said.

Katniss began to shiver.

"Milady, let go," Finnick ordered.

"No she cannot let go of the egg," Haymitch said. "It will kill them both."

"I have been waiting a long time for you," Peeta said, his voice was deep like that of a man's. "You have the heart of your father, Aldrich of Everdeen, the Just, and the fortitude of your mother, Astra of Ehrlich, the wise."

"Peeta?" her mind called out.

"I will answer all of your questions.

Katniss saw herself flying through the air. She sat atop a giant beast with wings. His leathery skin was smooth to the touch, but it was hard. No doubt an arrow would not penetrate the scales.

Looking down, she saw how small the trees looked. Frightened, she closed her eyes.

"Do not be afraid," Peeta said. "I will always protect you with my life. I swear it."

Katniss held on for dear life, squeezing his neck.

They flew higher until only clouds were beneath them. They reached a castle set high upon a mountain peak and landed. There were two women standing at the entrance, both fair with hair spun of gold. One had the same amulet Katniss wore.

The woman smiled at her, and her eyes were filled with awe. "Mother?"

"Daughter?"

The woman by her side gave her mother an annoyed look. Katniss frowned and it came to her that the other woman could not see her.

"You are correct, only your mother can see you."

"She's so beautiful," Katniss whispered.

"You are of the people of the Sky," her mother said. "You ride a golden dragon with blue eyes and blue underbelly."

Katniss turned around but could not see Peeta.

"Nobel Draco cor suum solum dabit cordi nobili," her mother said.

Katniss tried to translate her mother's ancient words. "A noble dragon give me…"

"Close." Her mother grabbed her hand, "Tell me how old you are?"

Katniss wanted to tell her but she wanted something more than just pleasant and worthless prattle. Squeezing her mother's hand she said, "I need the truth. I need to know what happened to you and to my father Aldrich. I want to know why I was raised by Haymitch."

Her mother's eyes widened then she looked over her shoulder. Then she nodded and said, "I cannot tell you about your past, Katniss, for my future has not happened."

Katniss felt crushed.

"Patience child, your dragon is very special. You are bonded in the ancient way…your dragon would give his life for you." Her eyes suddenly became bright blue and glowed. Her voice sounded like the voice of thunder, "When the time is right, you and your dragon will become one and you shall reign over the land peacefully."

"Mother, I love you. I have loved you from my first breath. Never doubt that."

"And I, you, my daughter." She then gave her a sad smile.

A tear slipped down Katniss' face.

"Peeta," she called and she felt her heart rate increase. Felt her skin become heated. Suddenly, she was pulled and brought back.

Upon opening her eyes she felt weak. Her knees buckled and the world before her spun.

"YOUR HIGHNESS!" Finnick yelled as he caught her.

The egg fell by her side and was pulsating an intensely bright light.

"My lord, she burns with fever!" Finnick could not hide the panic from his voice.

"It has begun," Haymitch calmly said. He took off his cloak and wrapped it around the egg, then put it on Katniss' lap.

"How can you be so calm at a time like this?"

"Lay her on the bed, make sure you do not touch the egg, place it by her."

Finnick nodded, lifted Katniss up, and ran to his Queen's chambers. Haymitch followed close behind.

Haymitch closed his fist. He found Rue waiting anxiously by the door, "Go find Mags."

"Aye, My Lord," Rue said, running.

He entered the room, feeling helpless. Katniss lay sweaty and pale. Her fingers were curled on top of the egg. Haymitch laid his hands on Katniss' forehead. And his hand burned. "She's burning."

"Look Haymitch, the egg has cracked, do you think it was from the fall?"

"No, he is hatching."

Mags walked in smiling gently. Her long silvery hair trailed behind her. Her weathered face had seen the full breadth of the human experience. She settled her hand on Finnick's hand.

"She will be fine. Her spirit has to go on a journey. She cannot finish the bonding without learning about her past. If she is not complete…she and her dragon cannot be joined in the way of the Sky Denizens."

"What do we do?" Haymitch asked.

"We make her comfortable, the room has to be warm," Mags said.

She held her hands over Katniss and the egg. "I have not seen a connection between a dragon and its rider in such a long time. He protects her even in this spiritual journey. He cares for her deeply." Mags chuckled.

"What?" Finnick asked.

Mags laughed as she sat down. "She needs an extra blanket."

Finnick moved to get one.

"No, not you, Finnick," Mags said. "Haymitch, get her the blanket."

CH10 Highland

A Day and a Half Later

Two Falcon's had arrived at Highland Castle today, one for Madge and the other for the Witch. Adeline was keeping an eye on the Witch. The woman seemed agitated after receiving the message via Falcon.

Adeline spotted the Witch. She followed behind discreetly listening for the clicking sound of the woman's cane as she moved quickly through the corridors of the castle. Adeline slipped through the empty corridor following her. Her hands were clammy. She needed to discover if the Witch had sought out an army for the Queen. It was fortunate that the Queen was gone. She had left to check on the progress of Lord Undersee.

"Delly," Madge called. She stood with Lady Crane, a woman as venomous as a spider.

Adeline winced when she heard Madge call for her. She loathed when people called her that.

"Madge," Adeline greeted.

"How dare you address me by my given name as if we were familiar and of the same rank."

Madge wasn't a bad sort, but when she was with Lady Crane, she acted just like her.

Lady Crane smirked at her, raising her nose at Adeline. She circled her. "With all the land and property your father has, you would think he would dress you in riches."

"We've had to make sacrifices to be able to pay the taxes the queen has levied upon us. I would rather pay the queen than spend money on a gown," Adeline replied.

Madge became incensed. Recently she had a gown made for her with white and silver embroidery. It cost more than the purchase of a horse.

"Delly, we've had word that the Queen returns," Madge bit out.

"I can prepare her quarters and make sure she and the rest of the group have a meal and warm baths waiting for them," Adeline replied.

The Queen used her noble ladies as if they were servants. Adeline did not mind the work; it gave her access to the Queen's innermost circle where she could retrieve information.

"Yes, you always were good at the domestic things," Lady Crane laughed. "Come along Lady Undersee."

As the two women left, Adeline once more oriented herself to find the old Witch. She quickly looked out the window. She spotted her in the inner ward. Quickening her steps, she made her way to the inner ward, then slowed down to act as if she was mindlessly ambling in the courtyard.

It was imperative that she keep an inconspicuous profile. From what Adeline had gathered, Lord Undersee had been sent on a secret mission to camp near the village of Denby. Adeline knew instantly they were trying to spy on the Midlandians. Taking a deep breath, she crossed to the inner ward making careful to appear preoccupied.

Her father had been a follower of the old ways. He upheld the old Code that held people to a higher standard. A Code where chivalry and honor meant something to people. Kings and Queens of old ruled the land with fairness based on the code.

They understood the old ways. Magic was no secret; it was not something to be feared, but rather something to be revered and trusted.

These days, the avarice of gluttony, vanity, and deceit had become the vanguard of their society. The people of Midland still upheld the old ways. There were many Lords who followed Queen Verity for fear of retribution. Their ranks were growing.

Adeline checked each building to see if the witch was inside. It was the sound of horses braying uncontrollably that caused her to walk toward the stable. When she found the witch giving orders for a carriage and horses to be drawn for her, Adeline hid in the shadows listening.

"Quickly," the Witch ordered, tapping the cane she used to walk about on the cobbled floor.

"Aye, Mistress," the groom said as he and four other men prepared the horses.

"I must get to the Queen," the Witch murmured.

Adeline knew what she was about to do was dangerous. She walked into the stables. "Oh, what is amiss, Mistress?"

"What brings you to the stables?" the Witch asked.

Even though the old The Witch was blind, she was giving Adeline a curious look. It was a rumor that the old Witch could read minds. Adeline brought to her memory lists of things that needed to be done in preparation for the Queen's return.

"Lady Undersee and Lady Crane received word that the queen was on her way back. They tasked me with the responsibilities to make the castle resplendent for the Queen's return. I need to make sure the stables are ready to receive the horses and then, of course, make sure the Great Hall has fresh linens…" Adeline opened her mouth to say more but the witch waved her hand.

"Enough, child."

A Page ran in from the inner ward. He looked no older than Adeline's brother Daniel.

"Mistress," the Page said, kneeling on the floor and handing the Witch a parchment.

The Witch snatched the paper from the boy.

Adeline noticed it contained no noble seal. The wax seal resembled a skull. She turned to speak to one of the grooms. "The Queen will be arriving along with Lord Undersee's men. I need you and your men to have enough feed for all of the horses."

"There will be no time for that," the Witch said. "The Queen will need provisions delivered to Lord Undersee's castle."

"Yes, Mistress," Adeline said bowing.

"Call forth Lady Undersee and Lady Crane. No doubt Queen Verity will need her consorts with her. Make sure you are with them; she will need her servant as well."

"Yes Mistress," Adeline said. She peeked through her lashes at the folded parchment the woman held. She could read several lines.

"Good," the Witch said as she was helped inside of the carriage.

Adeline had to get the news to Haymitch. The Queen had hired mercenaries to invade the Midlandians.

CH11 Dragon

A day and a Half Later

"The people are worried, Haymitch," Finnick said. "She's been ill for nearly two days."

Haymitch knew this took time. Katniss was strong, her magic was strong, and her heart was strong. But this could take a moon cycle and they did not have the time.

"Rumors are rampant that Katniss is dying," Finnick said. His eyes traveled over her lovely face.

Their people were scared because they feared invasion. Having Lord Undersee capture four of their warriors was proof that Queen Verity was going to attack them. Without Katniss to lead them, they would not be able to survive. "Tell them she is recovering."

Finnick looked at him and nodded before leaving.

Haymitch felt a tear slip from his eye. She looked gray laying on the bed. "She will live, won't she?"

Haymitch looked to Mags, who was busily singing and humming.

"Do not fret, Queen Katniss is on the last leg of her journey. Her dragon is protecting her."

On the bed, Katniss's head tossed and turned as she was led into another journey. She came to a river surrounded by the forest, the wind playing with her dark tresses. As she walked on the stones in the river. There was a cave in front of her.

"I'm waiting for you," Peeta's voice faltered through her mind.

Katniss walked forward into the cave. It was hot within the cave. She stood dressed in white watching as molten earth gathered around her. A figure began to form out of the fire. He was muscular with blond hair and blue eyes. His shoulders were broad and well defined.

"Peeta?"

He walked up to her and held out a hand to her.

"Are you a man?" Katniss questioned as she put her hand in his.

"I wish I were, Mea Carum. Where a dragon's treasure lies is where his heart lies."

"And where is your treasure?"

"Right in front of me." Peeta placed a gentle kiss on her hand.

His lips were warm on her skin and it caused her eyes to grow wide as she realized just how much Peeta meant to her. Even though they did not kiss on the lips as she had seen others do, this was far more intimate. She felt her cheeks heat up.

"Come, there is much more to see."

Katniss was once more in the air. "Where to this time?"

"Your father awaits you," Peeta said.

They landed in a field. There was a great forest in the distance. There were tents with flags with the image of her mother's amulet flying in the air. Katniss saw a man sitting by his lonesome.

He was handsome and he had dark hair and gray eyes just like hers. He was tall and lean. His hand sat on top of the pommel of his sword. This man was a warrior, even when resting, he was ready for battle.

"Sire," a man with a beard approached.

"Castor?" The man greeted.

"We are ready," Castor said.

"My lord, if we succeed, then by morning you shall have your daughter back."

"My wife died giving birth to my only babe," he said.

"Her death will not go in vain," Castor said.

"Yes," he said. "Tell Haymitch I will be there momentarily."

"Yes, my King," Castor said bowing.

Katniss gasped. "Peeta…"

"Go to him," Peeta said.

Katniss moved through the field. "Father?"

He looked up and his eyes widened. "Katniss, you're all grown up. You're as beautiful as your mother."

Katniss smiled gently. "I'm afraid my mother was more beautiful than I."

"I disagree," he said, touching her cheek. His eyes traveled over her face. "My beloved child. You are free from the hands of Snow and Gaul."

"Who are they?"

"They are the villains who destroyed our happiness in their bid for power. Your mother, Katniss…"

"I know she's no longer with you."

"If you are from the future, then I am not with you?"

Katniss shook her head. "Haymitch reared me along with Finnick of Odair."

"My squire?"

"Yes, he is valiant and trustworthy. He found my dragon."

Her father's eyes widened. "Your mother said that you would be a rider just like her mother before her. She said you were powerful just like I am."

"How did Snow and Gaul steal what is rightfully ours, father?"

"Lies, my daughter, lies…"

"I need the truth, father."

"Your mother's sister wanted the throne for herself. Your aunt stole you and handed you over to Coriolanus Snow. She allowed for Snow and his army to invade the Castle in the Sky. Gaul didn't want you, but she wanted to have the heart of a dragon."

"I don't understand. I thought a dragon and their rider were bonded."

"A dragon will not share their heart if the person doesn't have a pure heart."

"My aunt did not have a pure heart?"

"No, she was envious. Her dragon never gave his heart in her service. Gaul knew this and killed your aunt and as your aunt's dragon lay dying she took its heart. A dragon's heart is steeped in magic and Gaul consumed the magic to become more powerful than I. The only thing she fears is a dragon's fire. That will kill her."

"Aldridge?" Haymitch called.

Her father looked over her shoulder. "Your dragon is strong." Her father then took a dagger and cut his hands and a wave of energy seeped out of the wound and enveloped a large form behind her. "Donum tibi concedo, si heredem meum serves. Concedo tibi unum velle." Her father fell to his knees.

"Father!" Katniss said, alarmed.

"No, my daughter, I am fine. Go with your dragon."

"I love you father," Katniss rushed out.

"I love you too, my precious child."

Katniss smiled sadly before she was pulled away once again. She moaned, feeling parched. "Water," she whispered.

"Quick, fetch me fresh water," Finnick said.

Suddenly Katniss cried in pain. Blinding energy shot out of her body and she was levitating over the bed, hovering over the egg.

"HAYMITCH!" Finnick cried.

Haymitch came running in.

"No need to be alarmed. This is the final stage. The dragon is being born," Mag's said from the chair.

The egg cracked and broke and a small dragon came out. It cried and it immediately sought out Katniss. She floated back down to the bed and the dragon curled up next to her side. It hissed at Finnick before laying its head on her shoulder.

Mags chuckled. "Hello little one, you have been waiting for a long time for a heart like hers."

The dragon mewled and flapped his wings.

Katniss opened her eyes and smiled tiredly before shutting them again.

"She will be fine, though we are going to need a bigger room for her and her dragon," Mags said.

"What do you mean?" Haymitch asked.

"That dragon will age quickly to mirror her in years. Within the next week, he will grow and become an adult. And he will demand to be by her side at all times."

Finnick turned to Mags. "Will we still be able to train?"

"Not with you, he doesn't like you," Mags said tenderly. "You, my dear boy, will have to find another girl to marry."

Rue came into the room with a parchment in her hand. "My Lord, this just arrived."

Haymitch took the scroll and broke the seal. He quickly read it. "The Queen has hired the mercenaries. Our spy is sure that they saw the seal."

"When do you think they will get these extra men?" Finnick asked.

"I don't know, but I am hoping that our spy will tell us soon," Haymitch replied.

CH12 Lord Undersee

That Evening

Verity had been waiting nearly three days at Lord Undersee's Castle. One of the wheels of her carriage had broken on the way to the castle. She had been tired of traveling and wanted a warm place to sleep. Then the storms came. Verity was convinced this territory was cursed. Driving rain and thunder prevented her from reaching Highland Castle. She loathed it here.

Today was the first day that it did not rain or thunder. Verity hated his small castle. It had thick musty walls, and it never was warm no matter how many fires were lit. She sat in the great hall in a raspberry-colored gown with silver embroidery and white crystals. She wore her crown, as her fingers tapped on the chair.

"Your Grace," Lord Undersee's Page came forward. "A carriage approaches."

Verity stood. Everyone in the hall stopped and bowed as she walked to the entrance.

Her questions about that night persisted as she waited for the Witch to arrive. As soon as the carriage stopped at the entrance to Lord Undersee's castle Verity finally breathed easy. Behind the Witch were more carriages. Lady Crane and Lady Undersee stepped out. Behind them was Lady Cartwright. Verity rolled her eyes at the fat heifer.

"Your Grace," the Witch said.

"Bring her to my chambers," Verity said, marching inside.

A Page went out to help the blind woman out of the carriage and into the castle. The Witch was led up the stairs and down a corridor to a private room. These were Lord Undersee's private chambers. He had given them to Queen Verity whilst she stayed there. The women were tightening up the strings of the bed.

"Get out," Verity ordered.

"Yes, your Grace," the women said as they left the room.

"What took you so long," Verity said.

"I came as soon as you called."

Verity paced and then she said. "I have not been able to sleep. I have not been able to eat."

"Your grace, what has you in such a state?" the Witch questioned.

"We lost so poorly against Midland."

The Witch did not speak, only leaned on her cane.

"I need an army."

"You have an army," the Witch said.

"This rabble does not an army make."

"My army is so poorly trained that they are incapable of stopping the weakest of Midland's warriors."

"I understand your need."

"I need an army, Witch."

"Fine, I will show you what you need. But I need to know what happened that night?"

"I will tell you all you need to know." Verity stood straighter, "As soon as you provide me with a capable army."

"Is there a window in this room?" the Witch asked.

Verity took the old blind Witch by the hand and guided her to the window. The old woman stood and smelled the air, before she waved her hand.

"Revelare," she chanted.

The sky opened around them and suddenly they were standing at the port. Verity could see the Iron Sea and the ships traveling to the Village of Ion.

"You will soon have a legion at your disposal. They will be arriving, weather permitting, in a fortnight. "

Verity laughed at the sight of the ships. Soon she was going to be able to bring down a mountain. Taking a deep breath, she smiled.

"Now what happened that night?" the Witch demanded.

"Lord Undersee followed my strict instructions. We were able to capture four raiders. They brought them back to camp so that I could question them."

"Then what happened?"

"One moment, I was speaking to Lord Undersee, then the next, we were attacked." Verity stood still and grasped one of the ornate bedposts. "None of the men who were with me were able to put up a fight. Out of thirty-five men, only eleven survived. Some succumbed to the injuries they received when putting out the flames. The Midlandians didn't have a great number, a handful from what I could tell."

"You are angry, and rightfully so."

"You should have seen their leader."

"You saw their leader?"

"Yes, I did." Verity looked off into the distance. "She was a tall woman, more beast than a woman. She had a square face and wielded a sword as if it were an extension of her hand. Their people are better trained, have more discipline, and are loyal to her. She marched into the camp and plucked her people like daisies and marched back out of the camp."

"Describe her to me once more?"

Verity stopped moving. She stood before the old blind bat. "I have already described her to you."

"Describe their leader to me once more," the Witch demanded.

Verity sighed. "The woman was tall, muscular, and with blond cropped hair. At first, I thought her to be a man."

The Witch looked disturbed.

"What are you not telling me?"

"That woman you fought was not their leader."

"How could it not be, she was strong, they protected her."

"No, that woman was not their leader," the Witch repeated.

"I am telling you, I saw that woman. She is the one they follow."

"SILENCE," the Witch said, pounding her cane on the floor.

Verity became quiet.

"Come here child," the Witch ordered.

Verity came to stand before the Witch. She watched as her leathery hand reached out right in front of her face. The woman's hands slowly mapped out her face with her fingers. When her fingers connected with her temples, Verity felt someone invade her mind.

She began reliving everything from that night, the screams of the men, the braying of the horses. The muscular man with the golden face. The Witch rewound her memories over and examined each one over and over until she felt something warm trickling out of her nose.

"Please." Verity could feel the Witch's power trapping her. She could not move, not until released.

"I have not found what I am looking for."

Suddenly the Witch stopped at the explosion. She slowly played the memory backward until she came to a stop at the insignificant archer.

Verity hadn't paid much attention to the child. She could feel the Witch concentrating on the face of the archer.

The Witch gasped and backed away.

"What is it?"

"She is your enemy, the real leader of Midland. She is cunning and she must be killed before she grows powerful."

Verity wrapped her arms around herself as her skin erupted in tiny cold prickles. "How do we stop her? She has the ability to burn men without touching their clothing.

"We need to get back to the castle. Today, we'll leave today."

Adeline stood outside in the corridor. Her suspicions were confirmed. She clutched in her hand several tics, a bag made out of linen with hay inside that was used as a pillow or if long enough, a bed. She hadn't been able to send the message to Haymitch. She had to get them the information as soon as possible.

That meant she had to deliver it herself. She could send a message to her father. He was helping to amass an army for Midland. They could help on the day of the siege.

She pushed away from the door and walked carefully to another door and found an abandoned room just in time. The door of the Queen's temporary lodgings opened. Adeline kneeled and bowed her head as she tried to calm her nerves.

After some time she began preparing the room.

"We found her," Lady Crane shouted when the room to the door burst open.

Adeline had just finished arranging the bedding for the night.

"What…" Lord Undersee said, stepping into the room. "You were fixing the accommodations for the evening?"

Adeline bowed her head. "Yes, Milord."

Lady Crane huffed in frustration and left the room.

"The room smells fresh," Lord Undersee said.

"It's the anise, Milord, it is an old wives tale; it supposedly aids in good sleep."

"My wife believed in such things," Lord Undersee said. His wife had passed a few months back.

"Your wife was a great lady, Milord." Adeline wished Madge was as kind as her mother. Their mothers were once great friends.

Lord Undersee nodded. He cleared his throat. "Is there anything I can do for you, Lady Cartwright?"

"Perhaps I can," Adeline began.

"Go on."

"If it is possible, I would like to send my father a message. He worries over me."

"I shall lend you my personal falcon."

"Thank you, Milord."

PART 4:

CH13 The Army's

The next morning Katniss stood in front of her mirror. Peeta was laying down, his eyes were attentively following her.

She pulled a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Katniss needed to make an appearance to let the people know she was well. She dressed carefully in a smoky colored gown with silver and pearl embellishments. Her hair was down, and she looked regal but not as beautiful as Queen Verity.

Squaring her shoulders, she put her crown atop her head. She needed to look strong and healthy to her people. They were scared and with good reason. It was now known that Queen Verity had a powerful Witch by her side.

"You look beautiful, my queen," Peeta said.

"I'm nervous."

"Don't be, besides, they'll be too busy looking at me."

"Oh really?"

He stood up and stretched. "Well look at me. I am a beautiful specimen. Gold with blue underbelly, blue eyes, impressive teeth."

"Teeth?"

"Well yes." He flashed her his teeth as if he was smiling.

Katniss laughed. "Are all dragons cocky?"

She felt Peeta's laughter before she heard it. He was a beautiful creature. And since waking up yesterday, they could not only read each other's thoughts but each other's emotions.

His head butted up against her hand.

"You are a sight to behold," Peeta said, sitting on his hind legs. His spiky tale cured around him.

"Thank you."

Mags was right; he was growing rapidly. Yesterday evening he was about the size of a cat. This morning he was the size of a large dog with wings. Peeta had not yet flown, but Mags counseled that tomorrow he would be about the size of a horse and would begin to fly and by the end of the day he would be strong enough to carry her. Then their training would begin.

"How old are you?"

"A tricky question. My soul is thousands of years old. Currently, my body is that of a ten-year-old dragon, but I am aging even as we speak. My heart, however, is the same age as yours."

Katniss understood. There was a knock. Katniss looked up to see Haymitch at her door.

"I received news," Haymitch said standing at her door.

"From the spy?"

"It's not good." Haymitch handed her the notice.

"A legion of mercenaries will be arriving in port in a fortnight."

"They're getting ready to attack," Haymitch said.

"Haymitch, that's nearly four to six thousand men, not including her own." Katniss' heart sunk. It meant they needed to attack within those two weeks so that they could have a better chance at winning, but Peeta still needed at least five more days to grow to his full size.

"Do not lose heart, Mea Carum," Peeta whispered.

"Ready?" Haymitch asked.

"Yes."

Finnick was waiting outside. He smiled at her. Peeta caught him and she could hear him growling. "Behave," Katniss said.

"Tell him to keep his eyes off of you," Peeta said.

Katniss put her hand over his head as they entered the large space where she'd been crowned. Her people began to make a path for her as she walked to the throne.

"It's the Queen." She could hear them say.

"A dragon." Her people whispered.

"See, I am irresistible," Peeta smugly said.

Katniss wanted to laugh.

Peeta extended his wings and flapped them, and the people ooohed and awed over him.

Katniss would have rolled her eyes, had she not been before the entire population of Midland. She sat down and looked at her people. There were a little over fourteen hundred people within the caves. Out of those, they had only eight hundred warriors. This war was a suicide mission. Everything had to be planned out, from the archers, cavalry, and infantry.

Peeta sat by her side, looking majestic.

"You can do this, Mea Carum," Peeta whispered, looking into her eyes.

"My people, you humbly chose me as your leader, and today I ask you to join in a risky venture. As many of you know, Queen Verity and her people of Highland are amassing an army to attack us. We have been preparing for this for years."

Katniss paused to look into the faces of the people who followed her. Even Rue stood there with a slingshot in her hand; she had volunteered to be her Page. Her eyes sought out Lyme who had fought valiantly to rescue her family from the clutches of Queen Verity. Next to her stood Ginny and Sabyn, both had a fierce determination on their faces. Even Sejanus had grown since that rescue.

"I have just received word that the Queen and her Witch have a legion arriving on the shore of Ion in less than three weeks."

A murmur spread through the group.

Peeta roared and people became silent.

"Which means we have but one week to get ready and to attack Castle Highland." Katniss stood. "Queen Verity has raided our cities, killed our loved ones, driven us from our lands. She has tried to starve us, but we have prevailed because she has not been able to dampen our spirit. We survived because we banded together and have formed a family."

"An unconventional family," someone shouted.

And everyone laughed.

Katniss smiled and walked down a step as she beheld all of their beloved faces.

"A family that defends what is ours. We have the opportunity to catch them unaware before their mercenaries arrive and I ask you today to join with me to do the impossible."

The crowd looked at one another and then one by one she saw them lift three fingers to their lips and then hold them up into the air. The people had spoken; they were going to war against Highland.

The following day, people were shocked when they saw how big Peeta had grown overnight. There was great excitement when the image on her amulet was used as their banner. Katniss knew then it wasn't two birds, but two dragons in midair, courting.

Peeta's wings flapped as he stood in the throne room.

"Easy," Mags said to Peeta. "Watch the way he springs up into the air. He will do the same when you are riding him, My Queen."

"Please do not call me that," Katniss begged.

Mags turned to face Katniss. "That is your birthright. You are our Queen. You are descended from the noble wizards of Everdeen and you are from the noble line of Ehrlich who have elfin blood in their veins. That pretender that sits on the throne will have her day of judgment and so will her so-called Witch."

Katniss opened her mouth but did not say anything. Instead, she walked to see Lyme and Otto running hand to hand in combat simulations. Finnick stood off at the side.

"Ready for your lesson?" Finnick asked, grabbing his sword.

"Ready," Katniss said.

As they practiced, Katniss felt a burst of energy. She looked up to see Peeta flying. He was now larger than a horse. He landed in between her and Finnick. Everyone around them gathered. They all marveled at his beauty.

"I am ready for you to mount me," Peeta said to her, although he was giving Finnick a slanted view.

Katniss neared him and gently placed her hand on his left flank. "Easy, Peeta."

Finnick rubbed the back of his neck.

"We're going to have to find you a wife, Finnick," Katniss joked.

"Are dragons really protective over their treasure?" A small little voice asked.

Katniss turned to see one of Rue's sisters looking up at Peeta curiously.

"Yes, and Peeta sees us as his treasure," Katniss said, sweeping her up into her arms.

Rue's sister giggled.

Peeta lay on the floor watching her, his blue eyes gleaming.

Later that night, Katniss brought him to a room that was twice as large as the room where they were training. Above, there was a large opening and they could see the night sky.

"You'll be able to enter the caves through here. Though I don't think you'll be able to be with me below."

She could hear Peeta's heavy tread as he walked behind her. He was already larger than an elk.

"I'm going to grow tonight to my adult size," Peeta said. Peeta lay on the floor and said. "Get on my back."

They had flown early in the evening but only around the mountain once within the sight of Haymitch.

Katniss slipped on his back. "I'm going to need a saddle when you're bigger."

"Haymitch is already at work on one," Peeta said. "I heard him and that Finnick fellow speaking about it."

"You know you have to let go of the entire I hate Finnick thing."

"Never."

"He's more like a brother to me now."

"Really?" Peeta asked, lifting up into the air. His wings flapped as they flew up into the night sky. It was littered with hundreds of twinkling stars. He was no doubt probing her for the truth.

"Peeta, you can feel that I am telling you the truth."

"I know you are telling the truth, but I can smell his excitement whenever he comes near you."

Katniss laughed, "Could we stop speaking about Finnick and really ride?"

"Yes."

Katniss clung to his neck as he went side to side. The wind rushed through her hair. Their minds and emotions were linked and she leaned left instinctively when he leaned left, and when he flew through a cloud she laughed. Her hair floated around her and she could feel the cool wind as it lifted the locks of her hair around her. Katniss laid her head on his neck. Letting him know just how much she cared for him.

When they finally landed, Katniss yawned.

"I guess you're leaving me now."

"Ah that is where you are wrong," Katniss said. Picking up the sack she had dragged all the way up to the room. "This is my sleeping tick."

Katniss found a perch and rolled out a tick thick with fresh hay and placed several blankets on top. She brought with her a pillow stuffed with feathers. "I'm going to bed here for the night."

She could feel his happiness.

"Good night, Mea Carum."

"Good night, Peeta."

The next day when she awoke the cave was empty. She reached out and found that he was flying.

"Good morning," he sounded happier and his voice was thicker like that of a man.

"Where are you?"

"Getting breakfast," Peeta answered.

Katniss knew Peeta was going to be big, but she hadn't pictured him being taller than the walls of Highland Castle. His wingspan took up the entire space. He was stocky and muscular. He could easily knock over the ten-foot thick walls of the castle.

"Peeta," she whispered.

"Hello, Mea Carum," Peeta greeted.

Katniss stood and she held out her hand to his face. His eyes were large and twinkled with delight at her awe.

"I brought you breakfast," he said.

Below, on the cave floor was an elk.

"Thank you, but how am I going to bring that down by myself?"

"You can call that manservant," Peeta said.

"You mean, Finnick," Katniss chuckled when she felt his revulsion.

"Is that what you call him?" Peeta asked, sounding innocent.

Katniss laughed.

"Ugh and here he comes," Peeta said.

"Merlin," Finnick muttered.

Haymitch looked up but didn't bat an eye. "Tell me, can you breathe fire?"

Peeta looked at Katniss. He grinned.

"He says, yes."

"Good," Haymitch looked around, then pointed to the elk. "Once you eat then you begin training. We leave tonight for Highland Castle."

Katniss nodded. For the rest of the day they trained. They ran drills against objects that Haymitch launched at them through catapults from the mountain. They dove and spun. And discovered his scales were fireproof. They took the scales that Peeta shed to make her armor.

By the time the evening fell, they were ready to make the march into the world above ground.

As they walked from the Mountain, a gray falcon flew into Haymitch's hands.

"It's from the spy," Haymitch said.

"Well?" Katniss asked.

"There are more than a thousand knights, vassals, and Lords who are willing to battle against Queen Verity. Adeline and her father are waiting for us. They will march and meet us at the castle."

"See Mea Carum, all will be alright," Peeta said.

In Highland Castle, the Witch stood on one of the towers near the drawbridge. Something disturbed her sleep. She dreamt of fire and brimstone. Her nose was filled with the scent of sulfur as if the gates of Gehenna were opened and were waiting for her.

After she had dreamt the same dream thrice she stood and went to the highest point in the Castle. It was a place where she could find solace. A wind blew and it carried with it the scents of the Midland. The Witch sniffed the air and her skin prickled as she recognized the scent.

"A dragon?" She whispered out loud in the emptiness.

She once more sniffed the cool air. "Impossible."

She waved her hand and uttered, "Revelare."

The world warped around her and she couldn't see the dragon but she could feel its magic. It was a powerful ancient beast. A dragon would not leave its den unless it had a reason to do so. It would either seek food, another dragon to mate with, or, the most deadliest reason: it had given its heart to a human. There were a handful of times when the dragon would not give their heart to the rider because the rider was not worthy.

That was not the case this time. The dragon had a rider and that rider was the leader of the Midlandians, the female archer. Once more the Witch tried to conjure up the face of the girl, but she was hidden.

Another wind blew and the scent was stronger.

The Witch left the tower. Fear coursed through her as she quickly made her way down into the tower to the inner ward. She quickly walked across to the castle.

The Witch marched into the Great Hall where most of the Lords, Knights, and Vassals were already bedded down for the evening. She headed up to the Queen's room.

The Queen lay with her latest paramour Lady Crane's cousin, Lord Seneca Crane. The Witch flipped her hand and the door violently swung open.

"Get up," the Witch ordered.

She could hear Crane shoot up from the bed, searching for his sword.

The Witch leaned on her cane, she sounded bored and was glad for once that she had lost her sight. "Leave."

Verity sat up and sighed.

"My Queen?"

"These are matters of the state," the Witch said.

"Leave," Verity confirmed.

"I shall be right outside," Lord Crane said, grabbing his clothing and his sword and left.

"What is it?" Verity asked testily.

"The Midlandians are on their way, you must call all of your Lords," the Witch said, leaving.

Verity stood up from her bed and quickly donned a robe. "Wait, when will they be here?"

The Witch stopped walking and turned to face Verity. "They will be here in two days."

"What of my army, you said a fortnight. Could there be a chance that they will arrive in time before the battle?"

"I shall send a falcon," the Witch said.

That night Verity dispatched falcons requesting for the Lords who were not in the castle to arrive with their men. Her hands shook as she wrote.

Her Lords and their armies began arriving within a day and a half. This stopped Verity from feeling overwhelmed. Then that evening she received reports that a massive army was traveling toward the castle. Supposedly the serfs had joined the leader of Midland. That insignificant girl had inspired the riff-raff. They would be arriving at any time.

Verity was in her bedroom pacing. Not all of her Lords had arrived yet. She needed wine. "Adeline!"

There was no reply. Getting up, she opened up the door where Adeline slept. "Adeline?"

"Milady?" Lady Crane said getting up from the bed.

"Where is Adeline?" Verity walked into the room and pulled the bed sheets. "Where is that fat cow?"

"Your Grace, she left three nights ago, her father had an emergency," Lady Crane said.

"Get up and get me a goblet of wine," Verity demanded.

Her hands shook as she stood waiting. She wondered where the Witch was, why wasn't the old woman by her side. She headed for the tower where the Witch slept. Verity knew how to lay siege to a castle and she could, under normal circumstances, defend her home. As it was, she had a battle plan.

Nonetheless, Verity recalled the ease with which the archer had defeated them at the foot of the mountains. And the archer had a secret weapon that Verity did not know how to defend herself against. She thought furiously, recalling the scrimmage. There had to be something she could use against the girl.

Verity stopped moving. It wasn't something, it was someone. She needed to lay a trap. Her mind quickly composed a plan. She needed the Witch to help her.

Going to the tower she opened the door. "Witch."

The witch was reading a note from a falcon. She turned to face Verity.

"I need you to help me set up a trap," Verity said.

"Oh."

"Yes, I need you to use your magic to help me trap the archer's man."

"What do you mean?"

"The archer has a lover, a very good-looking man. If I can lure him, then he could be used to bargain with."

The Witch laughed gleefully. "Of course, my Queen."

CH14 The Final Battle

The next morning the sky was clear. Katniss opened her eyes to the sound of the Mockingjays singing. They had skirted the village of Highland Castle and set up camp looking up the hill at Highland Castle.

Katniss sat up in her cot, yawning.

"Good Morning, Mea Carum."

"Good Morning, my dragon," Katniss greeted.

"Why are you feeling guilty?"

"Do you think we should've allowed all of those people to join us?"

Many in the villages under Queen Verity's rule had joined them when they saw Peeta. Their numbers had increased. The serfs were armed with simple rustic tools: pitch forks, axes, and scythe.

The night before they were surprised when a woman named Johanna from the Petula Forest had traveled with about a hundred of her kinsmen to join their army. They all wielded an ax as if it was an extension of their arms. They were making armor for as many people as they could from the scales that fell from Peeta.

"It is their destiny to be here," Peeta said.

"Milady," Rue said, entering the tent.

"Good morn, Rue," Katniss said.

"Let us get you ready for the day."

Katniss chose her dress carefully. It was one that Mags had made for her. It was a white dress with gold and blue dragons embroidered on it. Rue was braiding her hair, and she left it half down as she put her crown on.

"You look lovely," Peeta said.

Katniss smiled, she could feel him next to her tent, no doubt peering in with his special vision.

"Oh, here he comes again," Peeta grumbled.

Katniss laughed.

"Is it the dragon?" Rue asked.

"Yes."

"Is it Finnick again?"

"How'd you know Rue?"

"He doesn't like Finnick," Rue shrugged as she finished.

"Your Grace," Finnick called.

"I will be right out," Katniss called. She turned to Rue and winked. "We really do need to find a wife for Finnick."

"Agreed," Rue said, her doe-eyes shining brightly.

Katniss left her tent and found Finnick waiting for her wearing a smock with the emblem of her amulet.

"Milady, Haymitch waits for you," Finnick greeted.

"Of course," Katniss said.

Katniss walked toward Peeta. He was waiting for her patiently. The moment she touched him she felt their magic intertwine once again.

"Haymitch is that way."

"I will be right there," Katniss said, climbing atop Peeta.

Peeta shot into the air. Without speaking he knew exactly what she wanted to do. They flew above the castle in stealth mode. Peeta, Katniss had discovered, could make himself invisible, and she was also invisible when she was riding him.

They flew along the sides of the walls looking for any imperfections in the castle structure. They also looked for magical protections. The castle walls were ten feet thick, and they were nearly thirty and nine feet tall. Katniss counted four towers. It had an inner ward with stables, a keep where the Great Hall was located, a separate structure for a kitchen, and a newer building that housed soldiers.

They could see the dark magic the Witch used to fortify the walls of the castle and the keep, but not the wood buildings within the castle walls.

"What do you think?" Katniss asked.

"It is formidable, but not impenetrable."

"Which way do you think is the best way to get into the castle?"

"I can blast down the door of the drawbridge." Peeta then added, "That is the spot where the least amount of magic exists."

"And how will our people get in if the drawbridge is gone?"

"Magic. You can create a portal to the wooden buildings."

"I didn't know I could do that."

"With a hole in the magic, you can transport them from one side to the other."

"I think we should go back."

"Yes, no doubt Finnick misses you," Peeta snickered.

Katniss sighed. "Peeta." Katniss struggled to speak. She knew Peeta could feel her emotions. But she needed to say the words. They were bound in a chivalrous love. One that was pure and innocent. "I am devoted to you Peeta, my heart belongs only to you."

Hearing her words, Peeta roared out of glee. She could feel the way his heart melted and beat for her the same way hers did for him. They landed and she lay her cheek against his neck.

"Your Highness," Haymitch called.

Peeta lowered himself to the ground. Around Haymitch, the men who wore armor.

"Go, they are already impressed by me," Peeta said cockily.

Katniss got off and shook her head.

"Your Grace," the men bowed when she approached.

"Please arise," Katniss said.

"These are the Lords that have pledged to help you fight against Queen Verity," Haymitch said.

"It is true you are descended from the house of Ehrlich," a heavyset man with a purple tunic said. He was looking at Peeta.

"We thought you were a myth, a legend long buried," A man with kind eyes said.

Katniss examined the group. She was surprised to see a few women amongst the gathered men.

"Which one of you is Adeline Cartwright?"

A blonde woman with a curvaceous figure stepped forward.

Katniss bowed to her.

There was a mummer between them at Katniss' action.

"I uphold the old ways set by Arthur Pendragon and Merlin. I pay homage to the woman who has this day helped in defending the weak and the defenseless. I have heard of the great daughter of the house of Birota Ius, and how she helped heal the sick and the lame. All the while putting yourself in danger by helping the people of Midland."

Adeline wept as she tried to get Katniss to stand. "Your Grace, I am nothing but your humble servant."

Then one by one the men began following Katniss' lead.

"I will be honored to have you fight amongst us, Adeline."

When Katniss stood. She looked at each of the men. The entire camp gathered around her. "This fight shall not be easy. There is nothing that I can promise you other than some of you will not see another dawn. We have been an oppressed people living in the shadow of fear. No longer! Today we take back our freedom. If they wish to burn us, then we will burn them."

A roar was lifted from the mouths of the men and women gathered.

"Nicely done," Peeta said.

"Thank you. Now, let me communicate our plan to Haymitch."

On the tower, Verity gripped the stone. Her red dress with black crystals flapped in the wind. She could not imagine how many men were gathered just behind the castle; they all wore a tunic with two large gold birds surrounded by a circle over their armor. Last night, she had the same dream. She dreamt it over and over again. She was afraid for the first time.

"Do not fret," the Witch said.

Then she heard a deafening roar. "What was that?"

"It is the hysteria of the rabble."

"Will our plan work?"

"Without a doubt," the Witch said.

An hour later the army was positioned. There were catapults ready to fire at the castle. There would be three waves of warriors entering the castle. On the field, Katniss stood in the gold armor made from Peeta's scales. Her sword was by her side and she carried her bow and sheath of arrows.

"Are you ready?" Haymitch asked.

"Yes."

"Katniss," Haymitch said.

Katniss turned to face Haymitch. "Your parents would have been proud of you. I am proud of you."

Katniss wanted to embrace him, but she stood straighter and said, "Thank you, I think of you as my father."

Haymitch's eyes filled with tears. He coughed and then said, "Stay alive."

"I intend to," Katniss said. She walked away to where Peeta waited for her.

She climbed on board.

"Come Mea Carum, let us finish this."

Together they took flight. They flew to the front of the castle. "Ready to show them, your magnificence?"

"Are you finally admitting that I am more beautiful than you are?"

Katniss laughed. "Well, let's see what they think."

Peeta materialized and Katniss could see the fear on the faces of the archers and Knights who stood on the ramparts between the towers.

"I am Queen Katniss of the House of Everdeen and I offer you the opportunity to surrender."

Queen Verity appeared on the wall; her face stony. "I would rather die than surrender."

"If that is what you wish," Katniss said.

"Fire," Queen Verity said, pointing her sword at Peeta.

The archers released their arrows. The arrows bounced off of him. Katniss could feel Peeta's magic swell as his fire gathered within him.

"Hold on," Peeta said right before he let loose his fire on the door. Katniss concentrated and together her magic and he blew the drawbridge apart. Splinters of wood and pieces of stone flew in the air.

"Are you alright?" Peeta asked.

"Yes," Katniss said. Her magic was still intact.

"ATTACK!" she heard Finnick yell. The catapults began assaulting the damaged walls. Katniss could see the magic surrounding the walls had weakened.

"Now," Peeta urged, as the walls began to crack.

Katniss closed her eyes and made concentric circles with her hands. Portals opened up into the different buildings as she and Peeta had planned.

On the wall, Verity could not believe what she was seeing. That archer was no archer. She was riding the dragon and she was using magic that Verity had never seen before. Golden rings opened and she saw the Midlandian warriors pass through them. She ran to the other side of the rampart but did not see them.

"Where are they going?" She demanded.

"I am not sure," Lord Undersee said.

"Fire at them, now!"

"Archers aim for the Midlandian warriors passing through those gold rings!" Lord Undersee ordered.

As Undersee gave the order and the archers fired down on the rings. The cry of battle could be heard coming from within the inner ward as the Midladian warriors poured out from the wooden structures.

"Lord Crane, do something," Verity demanded.

Seneca and his father ran down with a group of men. There was fighting within the castle; they were being plucked easily. The dragon flew above and it unleashed its fire at one of the towers that had cracked, no doubt the magic the Witch had used was not effective against the might and power of a dragon.

It was then she recalled her dream of being consumed by fire.

She staggered and held on to the wall as she sank to her knees. The Witch had known of the dragon.

Verity felt betrayed by the Witch; she had foreseen this and had done nothing to save her. Once again, she was alone. Getting up, she took her sword. She rushed to the tower where the Witch resided.

Around her metal clanged as the Midlandian warrior fought against her Knights and Vassals. She ducked and wound her way through the courtyard. She could see Lady Arachne was fighting too, but a woman with an ax sliced her throat.

Katniss saw the Queen as she made her way to one of the towers. "Look, there is the Queen."

"You are safer with me."

"I have to fight her," Katniss said. "Besides, you are always with me."

"Fine."

"If you want, find Haymitch and bring him to that tower," Katniss said as she watched Verity enter the tower. "Drop me off there."

"Stave alive, Mea Carum."

"I will, my dragon."

When the men saw the dragon approach, they quickly left the tower. Katniss jumped down and ran to the entrance; it was empty; she could hear footsteps followed by a woman screaming, "Witch!"

Katniss crept down the stairs until she saw the queen enter a room off to the side of the stairs.

Verity stood in the room staring at the Witch.

"You deceived me; you knew I was going to die today."

The Witch laughed.

"Why?"

"Do you know how easy it was to fool you?"

"My parents were not killed by the people of Midlands." Verity made the connection.

"The witch cackled, no I killed them."

Verity felt as if she was struck, her insides hurt as she crumpled to the floor.

"When I learned of your dream. The die was cast and you were going to the vessel that I would use to destroy my enemy, the daughter of the true King and Queen of these lands."

Verity looked up at the Witch. She held a knife in her hand.

"You are not even noble. You are a child that I stole and brought to the King and Queen, who were childless. You were born to farmers, I believe. They called you Juno Phipps. I have endured your groveling these thirty years, feeding the milk of hatred so that you could become my sacrifice."

"You mean the raids?"

"Hired thugs from the Verbotem Forest."

Katniss ran through the door. "Let her go Witch, or should I say, Volumina Gaul."

The Witch grabbed Verity and snatched her knife, putting it to her side. "Do you know how long I have been waiting to meet you? So long that I had forgotten my name."

"Let her go."

"I'm sorry," Verity said to Katniss, sobbing.

"It's okay," Katniss said. "I know it's not your fault. You didn't know you had a venomous snake with you."

The witch laughed and dug her knife into Verity's side.

"No!" Katniss said a burst of energy flew from her hands and hit Volumina in the heart.

The woman fell, releasing Verity, who scrambled away.

Katniss panted. Some of the magic she'd used broke the wall of the turret they were in.

Then the Witch laughed maniacally and stood. "I killed your aunt and consumed the heart of her dragon. It made me more powerful than Merlin himself. You cannot kill me, but I can kill you and in the process, kill your dragon."

Katniss didn't react.

"Your father told you," Voluminal laughed.

"Yes he did, and he also told me how to kill you."

Voluminal raised her hands and shot dark light that contained sparks of fire. Katniss cast a protective bubble around herself. They volleyed magic back and forth. Her magic was impressive, but it was no match for Gaul's. And soon she began to grow pale.

"Yes, here comes your dragon to your rescue…"

"No, Peeta," Katniss whispered.

"How fitting, you love him deeply." Volumina cackled, "Love is for fools." She intensified her attack.

Blood began dripping from Katniss' nose.

"Your dragon is weakened. One more blast and you shall perish, and so shall your dragon, Peeta."

Verity stood up and looked through the turret. The broken walls were just like in her dream. She stood looking down at her kingdom. The fight below was waning and they were winning. She was not going to die as a puppet and she was not going to let the Witch win. This was her destiny. Verity took her sword and with the last of her strength, she stabbed the Witch through the heart.

She screamed in pain. "What have you done," the Witch screamed. She staggered.

"Katniss," Haymitch screamed as he came in through the door. He pulled her away.

"Justice," Verity said as she once again crumpled to the ground and stilled.

Then came the familiar sound of rushing waters. Gaul looked and saw the dragon before he opened his mouth and flames so hot they were white consumed her.

Outside of the turret, Peeta felt Katniss' heart beating weakly. She was near death and he roared in pain. Suddenly her heart stopped beating and Peeta closed his eyes. As he did, he recalled her father's words.

"Donum tibi concedo, si heredem meum serves. Concedo tibi unum velle."

"My life for hers and a love that will replace mine," Peeta whispered as he fell to the earth.

Katniss coughed as she came back to life. "Peeta."

"Girl," Haymitch held her, embracing her.

"Where's Peeta?"

"I don't know."

Katniss stood and looked around. "Haymitch, I can't feel him."

"Katniss, you should rest."

Haymitch's words fell on deaf ears as Katniss ran down the stairs and through the inner courtyard. "PEETA!"

"Your Grace, your dragon…" Finnick said, pointing to what was once a wall.

Katniss ran, "PEETA!"

She saw him lying still. Tears filled her eyes.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," she uttered as she ran to him. Katniss fell to her knees, her hands touched his beloved face. "Peeta," she said as the realization that he was dead. Her hands shook, and uncontrolled magic poured through her body. "NO!" She yelled and flames flew out of her hands and wrapped them.

Katniss wished herself dead. She could not live in a world without him. The flames consumed her, consumed the ground, and lapped up the water in the moat. In her grief, her body lifted from the ground, and magic pulsated from her body in a riot of colors.

Beneath her, the flames wrapped protectively around Peeta's inert form.

Her father's words floated around her "Donum tibi concedo, si heredem meum serves. Concedo tibi unum velle."

Men and women lay down their arms. Her love for this creature could be felt in their hearts. They stared and wept at this act of courtly love and suffering. A life for a life. A heart for a heart.

Her body floated down into the fire.

CH16 The Heavens

"They need to live," Adeline whispered.

Finnick put his hand over his heart and knelt. One by one they all sank to their knees. The Midlandians saluted their Queen, by raising three fingers in the air.

They had won the battle. The Witch was dead and so was Verity. But they had lost their champion and their Queen.

Adeline wiped her face. "Someone so noble cannot be dead."

Haymitch wept. "I failed her," he said.

"She knew the risks," Lord Cartwright said sadly, shaking his head.

"You cry over this," Madge, who had climbed out from the rubble, stared at them.

"Be quiet!" Adeline yelled. "You know nothing of love or of friendship. They died for one another. You betrayed the memory and legacy of your mother for what, Madge?"

Madge stood defiantly.

"You sold your beliefs for the sake of vanity. And yet they fought for you. They died for us so that we could be free. I just wish to have a love like theirs."

"We shall write songs to the dragon and his rider who this day gave us freedom. Who slayed the evil contained in this castle and died in the name of honor with a love so pure," Finnick said.

As they spoke the flames began to get hotter. The flames went from a dull red to bright orange. Then to a yellow, to a blue and finally it burst into white. It felt like the burials of the old kings where they set their bodies adrift in a sea of water and lit them on fire.

Lyme rose up and she began to sing in a broken voice. "Filioli, audite vocem meam praeter vos. O virgo mulier! Rex noster puer, festina et vide; Terra tua, tibi vera. Sol et luna duce nos; Vsque ad horam gloriae nostrae."

Rue's young voice joined hers. They were joined by other voices from Midland. Ginny, Blight, Wolf, Otto, Mags. Those who had survived the battle sang the song of old. Their voices lifted into the sky. The song of a maiden fair, who gave her heart to her people and to her land, and finally to the one she loved dearly.

As the sun set in the western sky, the inky stars appeared one by one as if called by the moon.

"Look," Rue stopped singing and pointed to the heavens.

In the heavens, the stars move their positions. Everyone stared in awe as the stars banded together forming a crown above the white flames. A light shone down from the heavens onto the white flames creating a cocoon around the dragon and their queen. The cocoon was lifted up into the sky and it became a gem on the crown in the heavens.

A gentle breeze wove itself amongst the people gathered. The wind lifted up in a column and the cocoon burst into hundreds of milky glittering stars and two bodies floated down from the heavens onto the earth.

They were beauteous to behold.

A blond man and their queen, in a gown of white, were embracing each other.

Their eyes opened. Katniss sat up, followed by the man.

"Peeta," Katniss whispered in awe as she beheld him. She touched his strong face. Saw the warmth in his blue eyes.

"Mea Carum," Peeta said gently cupping her face.

"You're a man."

"Yes, and quite a good-looking one."

Katniss laughed through her tears.

"May I kiss you?" Peeta asked with a trembling voice.

Katniss nodded.

Peeta placed his lips on hers. And her heart was filled with his love. Magic fluttered around them and peace descended upon the land.

The End

Puritas vincet / Purity will Prevail

Equum et cinerem reuela qui redolet, da mihi potentiam suam mihi revelandi faciem / Reveal the rider that smells of horse and ash, grant me the power to reveal their face to me

 Revelare  /Reveal

Filioli, audite vocem meam praeter vos. O virgo mulier! Rex noster puer, festina et vide; Terra tua, tibi vera. Sol et luna duce nos; Vsque ad horam gloriae nostrae.”  Little children, hear my voice, Me beside you, Oh virgin woman; Our young king, fast and see; Your land, true to yourself. The sun and the moon, guide us; Until the hour of our glory. (note this was translated from the Song from Brave: Noble Maiden Fair (A Mhaighdean Bhan Uasal)Emma Thompson, Peigi Barker)

Nobel Draco cor suum solum dabit cordi nobili.  / The Nobel Dragon will only give his heart to a noble heart.

Donum tibi concedo, si heredem meum serves. Concedo tibi unum velle. / I grant thee a boon, should you save mine heir. I grant thee one wish. 

Prohibere / Stop

Mea Carum / My dear : My Cherished One

Ore Silvae / Edge of the forest 

It's the story of her life, Katniss thinks, crouched on the dingy tiles of her apartment complex's communal laundry room floor – maybe she just isn't meant to have good things.

Above her, a fly repeatedly bumps into the humming fluorescent light on the ceiling, like it's desperately trying to escape, but can’t figure its way out. Katniss can relate. 

She looks back down at the pile of her still-damp clothes that someone had tossed from the dryer onto a puddle of bleach on the floor. It's mostly stuff Katniss wears around the apartment. Ratty t-shirts. Underwear that no one sees these days but her. The real kicker is what happened after, when she tried to gather it all up, not yet knowing what they were sitting in. Yeah, she’d smelled the bleach, but the whole room always reeks of bleach. She didn’t think anything of it until it dripped onto the front of her pants, which, up until a few minutes ago, were probably the nicest thing she's ever owned in her life. And now they're ruined.

Last weekend, she and Prim had spent an entire Saturday in the city. They browsed the bookstore all morning and then shared a small frozen hot chocolate in the cafe. Lunchtime was spent wandering around the gourmet grocery store and grazing on cheese curds, organic granola served in tiny plastic cups, a sip of mango nectar, and tart clementine slices from the tables of free samples before scouring the nearby second-hand clothing shop for diamonds in the rough. According to Prim's friend Rue, this is where rich people donated their clothes, and you could find designer pieces for a fraction of the original cost if you only searched long enough.

In a rare stroke of luck, it only took a little over an hour when Prim squealed with delight as she held up a pair of black dress pants in one triumphant fist. In Katniss's size, no less. Rich, dark wool with a gleaming silver button adorning the front. At forty-two dollars, they were more than Katniss would have normally spent on herself, but at a ninety-percent markdown, Prim wouldn't let her pass them up. “Think of it as an investment,” she’d said.

Paired with a pearl-gray cardigan that Katniss got on clearance at Target and a smart white blouse she borrowed from her sister that's actually part of Prim's show choir uniform, she managed to look professional. Chic, even.

Until now. Dime-sized white splotches have already begun to form. 

The door creaks open, and Katniss wills whoever it is to just go away, go away, go away.

“Katniss? You all right?”

Oh no. She recognizes that voice right away. It belongs to her next-door neighbor Peeta Mellark.

Since he moved in last year, they've exchanged hellos when passing each other in the hall, and he smiles at her in a way that makes her feel feverish and fluttery.  Especially when he's still in the clothes he wears to work, dark slacks and button-down dress shirts with long sleeves that he usually rolls up past his forearms. She'll see him help carry in their neighbor Mags' groceries, hefting gigantic tubs of kitty litter – usually two at a time – like they weigh nothing. Or he'll be delivering fresh, homemade bread to Chaff, the disabled Vietnam vet who lives downstairs. And countless times Peeta has come to the door to bring back Prim's mangy cat Buttercup, who has a nasty habit of leaping from their balcony onto his, one time even knocking over his potted plants.

“You'd think I'm growing catnip instead,” he said with a grin the last time it happened, about a week ago.

“Maybe you are,” Katniss answered dryly. “Maybe it's all part of some plan to lure cats away from your neighbors.”

It was the longest sentence she'd ever spoken to him, and his smile widened. “Right. All part of my master plan, actually. But it's just the cats belonging to my pretty neighbors. Or...just the one. Then I finally have an excuse to talk to her.” He said it with such a sweet, almost shy, smile that it made Katniss want to press her cold hands to her rapidly flushing cheeks.

She smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of her t-shirt instead. “That, or you're just a serial killer in training.”

He laughed – a rich, masculine, musical sound. “Stealing cats, not killing them.” Buttercup hissed in response.

It was a nice encounter, but it left her feeling strangely vulnerable.  It's why she doesn't want him seeing her like this right now. “I'm fine,” she tells him in a voice as emotionless as an android.

He sits beside her. “Anything I can do to help?” he asks.

She motions to the fallen clothing, to the bleach stains. “Find and kill whoever did this?”

The weight of a comforting hand rests on her shoulder. Then, as if he thinks better of it, Peeta moves the hand to his own knee instead. “As much as I'd love to, uh, avenge you, I have a better idea.” He gingerly lifts her laundry from the pungent liquid. “There's some fabric dye back at my apartment. I can check to see if I have anything that matches.” He stands, shifting her clothes so they rest in the crook of his bare arm, then reaches to help Katniss up with his free hand. As she stands, she takes him in more fully. Instead of his usual work attire, he has on paint-stained khakis and an old t-shirt sporting the mottled remains of an iron-on that looks like it might have been a bakery's logo. She can just make out the letters K-E-R-Y, and beneath it, a golden loaf of bread.

They make smalltalk, initiated by Peeta, as they climb the two flights of stairs to their shared floor. Peeta's apartment has a layout identical to the one Katniss shares with Prim, yet it couldn't be more different. His is tidier. With freshly painted walls. His furniture matches. Her couch at home is stained and threadbare, something she fished out of the dumpster last Spring.

“Can I get you anything?” Peeta asks, a shy smile spreading across his handsome face. There seems to be more color in his cheeks than there was before. “Something to drink? I have, uh...”

She shakes her head. He's already doing her a favor. She doesn't need to take anything else from him. “No, I'm good.”

“Oh...well, if you're not thirsty, I can get you something to eat. I just did some baking earlier. They say I make a mean cheese bun.”

Katniss must visibly perk up at the mention of cheese, because Peeta's off to the kitchen in a flash before she can even accept. He's back in record time with a cheese-covered bun on a small plate.

“Sure, Peeta, why don't you go get me one,” she deadpans.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. He rubs the back of his neck. “I guess I'm a little over eager.”

Even so, she takes the proffered plate. It looks too good to pass up, and she's too weak to refuse it now. “Thanks,” she says. The first bite is soft and flaky and buttery, the cheese adding the perfect savory touch. She finishes it immediately, before they even have the chance to sit down.

“And, uh” Peeta says, “...at the risk of making things more awkward, I'm going to need you to take off your pants.”

****

An hour and about three more cheese buns later, Katniss and Peeta are seated side by side on his couch, her wearing a too-big, but incredibly comfortable pair of Peeta's sweatpants. Her own pants are on a drying rack out on the balcony. Peeta had somehow managed to match the color with his fabric dye. When Katniss first saw the end result, they looked so perfect she could have kissed Peeta right then, but her good sense stopped her before she could do something so stupid.

She presses her finger to the last few crumbs on her plate. “How are these so good? Are you a pastry chef or something?”

“No. Not anymore, at least. My parents owned a bakery when I was a kid, and I used to help out. It went out of business a few years ago.”

She thinks about those nice clothes he works in. Dress slacks. Those rolled up sleeves. “So you have some sort of office job now?” she asks.

“No.” He laughs. “I teach first grade at Panem Elementary. How about you? What do you do?”

She knows he's just being polite. She asked him first. But the question makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to talk about her work. What is she supposed to tell him? That she works two unfulfilling jobs that she hates for a combined seventy hours a week and she's still drowning in debt? Tell him about playing FreeCell on the computer at her boring receptionist job? Or that time at Save Mart that this drunk guy threatened her with a knife because she wouldn't sell him two bottles of Jägermeister at four a.m?

Peeta flashes her a kind smile, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “Let me guess – based on how nice you look, I'd say you're some sort of high-powered executive.”

She snorts. “Hardly. I had an interview this morning. But I already know I didn't get it. They basically told me I'm not qualified. It was a long shot, anyway.” She tries to change the subject, anything to avoid some display of sympathy from Peeta. That’s the last thing she needs. “So are your parents retired now?” she blurts out.

“Mostly,” he says. “My dad sells pies out of a food truck in the summer and fall. And my mom does the book-keeping at our cousins’ shoe store a couple times a week. They both like to keep busy. Especially now that my brothers and I all moved out of state.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

“It’s really not,” he says with a laugh. “I still see them on holidays. There’s always Facebook and the occasional text. How about you? Is your family scattered too?”

She should have expected that he’d ask about her family. Once again, he’s just being polite. After all, she’s the one who clumsily brought it up. But it's the last thing she wants to talk about.  Where does she even begin?

Her childhood had started off idyllic enough. Their lack of money was more than made up for by the abundance of love. Until her father was blown to bits in a mining accident, and her mother mentally checked out for a few months. Katniss had been eleven, and Prim only seven. Katniss became the de-facto head of the household. It was Katniss who did all the grocery shopping, walking to and from the store dragging Prim's old red wagon behind her. She prepared the meals. Washed the dishes. Did the laundry. Forged her mother's signature on permission slips. She did it all with a stoicism that easily fooled Prim. And even after her mother came back to them later that year, Katniss wore her self-reliance like armor

Katniss's mother, who'd been a med student before dropping out to raise her children, eventually got a job at a nearby hospital. It took awhile, but Katniss's relationship with her mother started to mend. The trust wasn't fully back, but Katniss worked hard to stop shrugging off her mother's attempts to – well, be a mother. It wasn't perfect, but it was good, the two of them working hard to ensure that Prim would get as normal a high school and college experience as possible.

And then in the early hours of New Year's Day two years ago, while on her way home from the night shift, a drunk driver entered the off-ramp on the freeway, slamming right into her mother's car. Neither driver survived.

Then came the news that her mother had let her life insurance lapse. Without the insurance money, paying for the funeral and living without her mother's income nearly broke them. Katniss maxed out her credit cards, got a second part-time job. Cut down her schooling to only half time until she dropped out altogether.

She doesn't want to drop this much personal information onto Peeta at once, so she just gives him the cliff notes version: her parents are dead and she's Prim's guardian. To his enormous credit, Peeta doesn't press her for details.

In the ensuing silence, Katniss fidgets and Peeta rubs the back of his head nervously until he springs out of his seat on the couch. “Would you like another cheese bun?”

She’s tempted. She can barely remember when she’s had food this good, and so much of it. She doesn’t have a shift at Save Mart tonight, and it’s not like she has to hurry home to Prim. When Katniss texted her saying she was next-door, Prim replied, Don’t hurry back, followed by a winking emoji.  “I should probably get going,” she says nevertheless.

On the way to retrieve her pants, Katniss spots a table in another room filled with things like packages of number two pencils and eight-packs of crayons, stacks of composition notebooks, boxes of tissues piled high in a precarious tower, and economy-sized bottles of hand sanitizer.  “Most people just steal pens from work,” she jokes. “This is impressive.”

Peeta laughs. “And next week, my plan is to disassemble everything from the playground and bring it here to decorate my apartment.”

“Just what this place is missing, too. Monkey bars in the living room.”

Peeta laughs and then sheepishly explains that this is for his classroom. A lot of his students can’t even afford lunch, let alone school supplies. So anything that the school can’t cover, he pays for out of his own pocket. Usually, though, the supplies he buys at the beginning of the year tend to run out before Christmas break.  It’s mesmerizing watching Peeta talk so passionately about teaching, and the welfare of his students.

They find themselves sitting down again, freshly-dyed pants forgotten, and Katniss asks what happens the rest of the year. Do they just go without? Or does Peeta fill his table with stuff then too?  In the middle of the school year, when everything he purchased has run out, and he’s out of extra money, he relies on crowdfunding. He brings the page up on his phone and shows Katniss the projects he has going. The first is for the basics: more pencils, crayons, notebooks, tissues, and sanitizer. The last two being especially important during cold season.

When it comes to the next project, Peeta explains how the roof at his school had leaked over the summer. Ruined the carpet in his classroom. The school patched up the roof, but didn’t have the funds to replace the carpet. Peeta shows her a couple pictures, and it’s honestly pretty gross. It looks like something died on it, and then someone rolled up the carcass in it, threw the whole thing in the river, and then it somehow found its way back onto the classroom floor. He shows Katniss a page with a couple large, brightly colored rugs to cover up the water damage. It’s expensive and kind of a longshot that it’ll get funded, but it would go a long way toward making his classroom more inviting.

Later, when Katniss is back home, she logs onto her ancient dust-collecting computer and finds Peeta’s fundraisers online. She donates five dollars. It's a drop in the bucket compared to what he needs to meet his goals, but it's about all she can spare. The rent is due soon, and she still needs to fill up the gas tank and get groceries.

****

It's become a ritual for Katniss and Prim to stop at the gas station once a week on the way home from picking Prim up from show choir practice and, after filling up, treating themselves to cherry Icees. Today, there's only enough cash in her purse for one, so Katniss lies and tells Prim she's too full from a late lunch.

As they wait in line, Katniss tries not to let her impatience show. She hates standing around, and despite what she told Prim, she's actually famished. Prim must sense this somehow, as she extends her drink in Katniss's direction. “You want some?” she asks. “I'm kind of full, too. We had a pizza party in 5th hour.” Katniss sips some of the icy beverage from the plastic straw, and it pacifies her a bit. But it's still hard not to get annoyed when they're in line behind Sae the Lottery Lady.

It looks like Sae's redeeming her winning tickets, the cashier doling out crisp twenty dollar bills only to get those same bills back when Sae decides at the last minute to purchase a stack of tickets so thick they're starting to resemble one of Prim’s textbooks. Katniss glances at the time on her cell phone.

“Can we get a lottery ticket too?” Prim stage whispers to Katniss.

Ugh. She tries not to roll her eyes, lest it seem like she's passing judgment. “No,” she replies simply.

“It'd be so great to win, though.”

At this, Sae turns around. “You can't win if you don't play,” she says with a wink. Sae should know. A couple years back she won a million dollars from a scratch-off ticket she purchased at this very gas station. It's where she buys all her lottery tickets now. It's silly, Katniss thinks. As if lightning is going to strike twice in the same place. If anything, Sae should be buying her tickets anywhere but this gas station, but the woman's nothing if not loyal.

Prim repeats her question, pressing her hands together in a pleading motion. It would actually be kind of adorable if what Prim wanted weren't so stupid.

“Fine,” Katniss grumbles anyway. She roots around her purse for some loose change. She needs the last dollar in her wallet for Prim's drink. “Maybe one of the one dollar tickets,” she says, though she already regrets it. A dollar could buy four bananas at the grocery store. Or a can of beans. Or a box of store brand spaghetti. All of which would be more useful than thirty seconds of hope.

Just when Katniss thought the transaction in front of her was done, Sae points out one of the twenty dollar tickets on the top row of the display, a ten-inch long rectangle of glittery gold card stock.

Katniss fishes a dime and two lint-covered nickels from the bottom of her purse. She just needs twelve more cents and she'll have a dollar. Twenty dollars, though, she thinks bitterly. On a lottery ticket. That's half a tank of gas. Or two family packs of chicken thighs when they go on sale at the market. Takeout pizza on her birthday. Twenty cans of beans. Her train of thought is interrupted by the cashier handing her something. “What?” Katniss blurts out stupidly. Her eyes cut over to Sae, whose ticket is being shoved in her direction.

“That's for you, dear,” Sae says. “I've been blessed, and I hope this does the trick for you too.”

****

Prim sits beside her in the passenger seat meticulously scratching the ticket's surface with a nickel from Katniss's purse, an intense expression on her face, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth ever-so-slightly.

Katniss almost hadn’t accepted the ticket from Sae. It was too much, and they barely knew each other. Not that that mattered much to Prim. She almost knocked the old lady to the ground giving her a big bear hug. Katniss reluctantly muttered her own thank-you and dragged an excited Prim back to the car after her turn at the counter. They had more important matters to deal with. Like dinner.

There’s almost no food in the apartment, but Katniss has officially crossed over from famished to hangry. They’ll just have to go grocery shopping another day. In the meantime, there’s always cereal at home, maybe eggs and toast or something. 

“Katniss! Katniss! Pull over!”

Irritation prickles at her, but she tries to tamp it down. “I'm not taking anything to the animal hospital. And you need to stop yelling when I'm driving.” That's how accidents happen, she wants to say. But she doesn't need to burden Prim with her fears. Driving has been a struggle for Katniss since their mother died. Even short trips to the high school or the gas station are stressful.

“No, Katniss! Look!” She waves the ticket wildly. “We won!”

****

“You have to match one of the numbers on this top line to one of the numbers down here,” Prim explains to Katniss. They pulled into the first parking lot they came to, and now they’re huddled around the ticket like it's a flame on a frigid night. “If you get a match, you win whatever prize is listed below it. See? There's a two up here and a two down here, and it says – ”

“Five hundred thousand dollars,” Katniss finishes for her, dazed.

This kind of money will change their lives. Sure, she'll lose about half of it to taxes, but she'll still have enough to finally pay off her credit card debt and her student loans. Make a savings account. Quit her horrible third shift grocery store job. Prim won't have to worry about taking out loans when she goes off to college next Fall. As impossible as it used to seem, Katniss can even go back to school and get her degree, too. She'll actually have the luxury of figuring out what she wants to do with her life and then be able to make it happen. It's like a million doors that she thought were locked forever have just opened up to her. It’s a way she hasn’t felt since she was eleven years old.

That night she and Prim look at college course schedules online. They point out classes the other should take, read course descriptions aloud.

“You should major in something practical, like business,” Prim suggests, “but then minor in music.”

Katniss laughs it off, but secretly imagines herself singing again, maybe joining one of the school’s ensembles.

None of this would be possible if not for Sae's act of kindness. Katniss has never been a believer in karma or everything happening for a reason. Even still, she should do the same thing Sae did.

Peeta.

He needs to be the first person she helps. Few people deserve it more than he does.

She’s so excited that after Prim goes to bed, she gets on her computer to look at Peeta’s fundraising page again. There are exactly two donors so far, including hers. How excited would Peeta be if he woke up tomorrow and his projects were fully funded? She debates for a moment whether to put her name or make it anonymous. He did her a favor, so this would make them even. On the other hand, this is a much bigger favor, one that he couldn’t afford to reciprocate. Better make it anonymous then. Under the comments section she simply puts: “Pay it forward.”

Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to write this fic for a very long time. Thanks, promptsinpanem, for giving me the opportunity! I’m so thrilled to be participating in PiP for the very first time! Thanks to daydreamsandcaffeine for her help with the title! 

***** Katniss 

My eyes flutter open as I wake, feeling far less rested than normal. My immortal body doesn’t require much, neither food (only the special nectar of the gods) nor sleep to sustain itself; however, nights like last night always leave me feeling ill at ease, as if I’m crawling out of my skin.  

I had that dream again. I dreamed of the boy, and the fire…  

I wonder about him sometimes‒Is he safe? Is he eating enough?‒although, I refuse to look in on him. He could be dead for all I know (I hope not), but I paid the price for my foolishness years ago and have vowed never to see him again. 

At least, not during the waking hours.  

Briefly, I ponder asking Morpheus for a potent sleep syrup that’ll send me into the deepest, dreamless state of sleep. Perhaps he would do a trade. 

I decide to keep it in mind. 

With a yawn, I raise my arms above my head and emerge from my fluffy cocoon of pillows and blankets. The large bed is to my liking as is my new place in Victor’s Village. Most of the young gods and goddesses live here, and the dwellings are more than adequate, if not as magnificent and specially customized as the palaces of the major deities. I could have remained with my father, of course, who despite being the present ruler of the gods, has a modest, charming abode rather than a grandiose palace, but I felt it was time to strike out on my own. 

I get out of bed and pad over to my gilded full-length mirror. I stand there, naked, looking at myself. I sleep in the nude sometimes; it’s relaxing and freeing, and I like to imagine I’m floating in a secluded stream. It’s been so long since I’ve been in the mortal world and seen a real stream. Staring at my reflection, I give myself a once-over, then turn to the side and crane my neck to get a better look at the jagged mark between my shoulder blades. Where the beam fell on me, right between where my wings protrude. It still hasn’t faded. I couldn’t believe it even left a mark, though my powers were weakened then, and I was young. 

I’m older now, and much stronger. Nothing like that will ever happen again. I won’t let it. 

As I’m observing myself, I hear a throaty giggle/cackle, and in a burst of black and red dust, she appears behind me.  

“Hey!” I exclaim, hastening to cover myself with a sheet. I hate how she just pops into my chambers unannounced. She doesn’t have an ounce of respect for anyone’s privacy. “Do you mind?” I twirl my finger, and the sheet whips around my body, wrapping tightly and knotting at the top.  

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” the Goddess of Love titters. Well, of course. She prances around naked all the time. But I’m far more modest than her, even if I do enjoy sleeping naked sometimes. 

I turn my head slightly. Although she does regularly flaunt her nakedness, especially when she can get a reaction from someone, she’s dressed today, in her typical all-white attire, and her white-blonde hair is in its usual pixie cut. She’s gone to my bed and is floating just barely above the edge of it. She crosses one leg over the other and cocks her head to the side. “You’ve developed,” she remarks, and I roll my eyes at her in the mirror. “You’re a full-fledged adult now, aren’t you?”

“Jo,” I huff, not bothering to thank her for the rare compliment‒or what I assume was one; maybe she was only mocking me. Coldly, I stare at her reflection in the mirror. “What do you want?” 

“My, how rude,” she snarks. “And you address the Goddess of Love so casually?”  

“How would you have me greet you?” I challenge. 

“Ohh, how about Oh Glorious One or Most Majestic Supreme Being…” She tosses out several more overblown honorifics, and I barely refrain from gagging. 

“Is your ego really so big, Johanna?” I say. 

She smirks at me.  

“Fine.” I give, only in order to get her to go away. “You are looking well today… Oh Beauteous Goddess.” I somehow manage to say it with a straight face and without choking on any of the words. 

Johanna approaches me then. She pats my head like a dog and tells me, “Good little demigoddess.” 

I jerk my head away and scowl. 

I’d often wondered how a goddess like Johanna ever came to earn the title of Goddess of Love, and she explained it to me before. She’d said that there are many different types of love, which she understands well but is also able to remain detached from. And then she’d complained about being beaten out for the Goddess of Wisdom and Warfare. 

“Jo, was there something you needed?” I ask impatiently. 

“Why the rush? You’re not even dressed yet.” 

I am in a rush, actually. 

“I have errands,” I say. For one, I’m eager to visit the forge for a repair to my bow and new arrows, and I’m about three seconds away from popping out on her, no matter how angry it might make her. 

“Ah, then you’d better put something on, hadn’t you?” she says. “I was only popping in to say hello, anyway.”   

Jo is in an exceptionally good mood today, and I don’t even want to imagine why. Most likely, she did something particularly wicked, or naughty.  

As I’m pushing the thought from my mind, she waves a hand. In an instant, my sheet vanishes and is replaced by a flame red dress with a sheer black underlay, giving the appearance of coals in a fire. With a snap of her finger the dress appears to ignite, sizzling and crackling against my skin. I feel nothing, of course. 

“What do you think?” She places her hands upon her slender hips, and I look down to observe the dress. 

“It’s…nice,” I say, taking a closer look in the mirror. The dress gives the illusion that I’m on fire‒kind of unnecessary, of course, considering I command the substance and can easily ignite myself for real at any time, but it is a pretty dress. She bids me to twirl, but I ignore her. 

I remind her that I need to be off, and this time, she doesn’t fight me. I thank her for the dress and disappear. 

***** I get to the forge, and fortunately, Thresh has no other pressing business, so he's able to quickly repair my weapon and whip up a fresh batch of arrows for me. Not that I mind watching him work; he's so methodical, and he doesn't chitchat much. Usually, he only gives me a hello and goodbye greeting, but today, he mentions that my Uncle Snow was just here. 

That's odd.  ***** Once my weapon is done I go to my private woodland retreat to shoot. It’s not a real woods but a hologram, one generated by godly magic, my father's, to be precise. It's lovely, but I wish I could go to Earth to hunt for real. 

After, I decide pay my uncle a visit. I'm curious about why he was at the forge. I know where to search for him, and naturally, he’s in the first place I look–the Arena. 

Uncle Snow greatly enjoys the Arena, which is a large coliseum where the gods, typically the ‘lesser’ gods, challenge one another for sport and accolades, and of course, for the entertainment of the greater gods. It’s one of his favorite pastimes to watch the other gods fight and to place his bets. Sometimes ferocious beasts are conjured as well‒lions, tigers, or occasionally, specially modified creations. And then there are the chariot races, too. 

“Ah, Katniss,” my uncle greets me the moment I materialize in the seat next to him. His snakelike eyes scan me. “You look lovely in red, my dear.” 

My eyes flicker down to my new dress; I can hear the flames crackling against my skin. It is beautiful, but a bit loud, literally. 

“Jo made me wear it,” I say.   

My uncle nods. “Well, it suits you. Although,” he smirks, “you really shouldn’t let the Goddess of Love push you around, my dear.” 

“I don’t!” I protest. “She just…sort of does what she wants.” 

“That she does,” my uncle agrees. 

We watch a battle together, which ends in a stalemate. That happens a lot. 

"Not much sport in it, is there?" Uncle Snow comments. I refrain from asking if it's so boring, then why does he come so often. “Gods fighting other gods..." 

"What would you suggest, Uncle?" 

Uncle Snow thinks on this a moment, but he doesn't answer me. 

“There are the wagers," I offer. "And I hear that when Cato won his fight he made Marvel be his servant for the day. That's kind of...interesting." 

My uncle sneers. “Yes, of course, the accolades and such are all well and good; however, there’s no sense of urgency when death is not on the line. Not like when the mortals battle." He pauses. "Wouldn’t that be something..." 

I almost laugh. 

"Mortals, Uncle?" He wants to bring mortals to the Arena to fight? It'd be a bloodbath. “That’s ridiculous. Not only would a mortal never stand a chance against a god, but it’s impossible to bring a mortal to the mountain." 

“Oh, I assure you, nothing is impossible, my darling.” 

I consider this. 

"Uncle Snow," I begin. "If I ask you something, will you answer me honestly?" 

"Why, of course, my dear. In fact, let’s make a pact right now, shall we?” Hesitantly, I nod. “Let’s agree never to lie to each other.” 

This seems foolish‒What reason do my uncle or I have to lie to one another, anyway?‒but I agree. 

“We’ll do as the mortals do.” He looks at me expectantly, and I’m confused. “Shake on it,” he says, extending his hand. I stare down at it. 

“Now, you put your hand in mine,” he explains patiently, and I slide my palm against his and feel him squeeze my hand. 

“So, then, now that we have our pact, tell me,” Uncle Snow takes a sip from his cup, “what do you really think of Cato?” 

“I think he’s vile,” I answer without pause, and my uncle chuckles. “He brought up my scar,” I say. 

“How rude of him,” my uncle remarks, then sighs. “However, it is your own fault your lovely skin was marred forever, niece. Not even Gloss was able to remove the mark.” 

“I know,” I grumble. “But…he would have died.” 

“Such is mortality, Katniss,” he says without a shred of compassion. “Mortals are not long for this world. It isn’t their world, after all; it’s ours. We’re merely allowing them to live in it. Death will come for the boy eventually.” 

Not on my watch, I think. And I don’t know where that came from. Since when am I the boy’s protector? And besides, my uncle is right; eventually, old age will catch up with him, and it’s not like I can chase him into the Underworld…

I digress, and I'm going to question my uncle about the forge, but another fight is about to begin. This one causes Uncle Snow to shift in his seat. 

  A warm, humid breeze sweeps through the little house in the Seam as the late afternoon sun hangs in the west. Prim’s chattering to her ragdoll in the bedroom she shares with Katniss, and their mother hums in the kitchen as she mixes oil and flour from the tesserae with her hands.

The pink ribbon is hot in her damp hand, and Katniss shifts it to the other so she can wipe her palm dry. After all it took to get it, she doesn’t want to ruin the best gift she’s managed to find for her sister since their father died and everything changed. The ribbon is both extravagant and practical depending on how Prim chooses to use it. If she ties back her own hair, then Katniss will be pleased. More likely, she’ll tease the cat with it and turn it into a useless toy. Either way, Katniss vows not to criticize. This is a gift, and that means she doesn’t have a right to dictate how it’s utilized once it’s been given.

Prim’s face lights up like the face of the moon at its fullest. Smiling widely, she hugs Katniss and squeals her delight before rushing out to the pen behind the house and tying the pink ribbon around her pet goat Lady’s neck. Choking back her irritation, Katniss smiles fondly because this makes Prim happy, and there’s nothing more important than that.

****

Everything’s gray in District 13, no color anywhere, which is probably why Katniss can’t help wincing every time she glances at Prim’s leftover belongings that sit there on the countertop in the room they used to share.

The pink ribbon is there, tangled in among her hairbrush full of long strands of golden silk that Katniss can’t bear to pluck out and discard. The fact that it’s here in District 13 and not amid the ashes of District 12 is a clear indication that Prim was better than all of them and the last person who deserved to die. When Katniss asks Gale—which she manages to do only through gritted teeth and scalding tears—he confirms that Prim saved Buttercup and Lady as the district’s residents fled and only set her goat free when she realized that the forest would be a safe haven for a foraging animal.

Calloused fingertips run over the faded material and trace the frayed edges. Ragged nails and tough cuticles snag on the threads, and she has to pull her hand back to refrain from ruining it. There’s no reason to do this—no motive to preserve something that belonged to someone no longer living—but she can’t bear to part with it. Her father’s hunting jacket is a different story. It’s practical, at least. What will she do with a tattered ribbon that used to decorate the neck of an animal?

Her mother finds her there, curled in a fetal position and rocking back and forth on the floor. There’s no comfort, no empathy. Her mother can’t handle more than she’s already endured. Katniss doesn’t expect her to, but it doesn’t make her own grief any less painful.

Eventually, she falls asleep. When she wakes, the pink ribbon is nowhere to be found.

****

Peeta restores Prim to her, but not in any way Katniss imagines. One day he shows up outside her house and brings the sun back with him. Ashy blonde waves tumbling over his forehead, he holds primrose bushes in his hands and lets her know she’s not alone.

It takes a long time, months longer than most of the townspeople expect, but she’s never really done anything when another expects her to anyway. Even Haymitch gives the two of them looks designed to express his impatience. Unlike everyone else, Peeta doesn’t rush her, doesn’t push, and that’s probably why she trusts him as soon as she does. Then again, Peeta’s always been better than most people she knows, and, just like Prim, he deserves better than what the Capitol did to him.

When he moves in, he shares her bed. It’s the two of them against the world. They face life together—just as they did as tributes. It’s his idea to go through every room of the house and get rid of anything she hates, much of which she does simply because the Capitol provided it when she moved to Victor’s Village.

When she opens the box labeled only with a scrawled 13 on the top, she blinks against tears that refuse to stop flowing. Prim’s hairbrush is there, along with other little items that spark a million memories. She picks through them all, holding each one tightly before moving onto another. Each evokes both pain and joy.

She’s just about to close the box and put it back in the attic when she spies it—the ragged pink ribbon she thought she’d lost back in District 13. With trembling hands, she tugs it from under the other belongings and wraps it around her palm. She only unwinds it when Peeta leads her to bed and tucks her in with a gentle kiss to her forehead.

****

Peeta paints her with the ribbon in her hair. It’s silly and touching and sweet, and Peeta does it because he wants a visual representation of her with Prim. He’s thoughtful that way—always making life better with his special brand of creative calm. Working at the bakery keeps him busy during the days, but he trudges home through the snow-filled streets every afternoon and spends the evening with her. Sometimes they cook together. More often, he locks himself away in his art studio for an hour and then joins her by the fire. That’s how he finishes her portrait and surprises her with it as the snow falls outside and hot chocolate warms her insides.

Touched and humbled, she traces her fingers over the paint and marvels at the care and consideration he put into her gift. Just like he does everything. Exactly the same as he will with her when she gives him the signal.

She does that night. Looking at him with love shining in her eyes, she holds out her hand and leads him up the stairs and to their room. Clothes fall, skin is bared, and hungry lips find each other in a frantic rush. When he lowers her onto the bed, she welcomes him on top of her, inside her, under her. Moving with him, she moans into his ear as he pumps and thrusts and gasps her name. He smells of dill and cinnamon and tastes of cocoa and marshmallows.

When he rolls over, she rides him, rearing back and slamming down in desperation. She wants more, needs every part of him. His rough palms slide over her sweaty body. His fingers stroke and pinch until she can’t hold back the cry that tears from her throat. Pulsing around him, she rocks her hips. Her orgasm rolls through her, and she smears the evidence of her climax on his fevered skin.

Eyes closed, bottom lip caught under his teeth, pale skin flushed pink, wet hair sticking to his forehead, he digs his fingers into her thighs and arches his back. Heat floods into her, scalding her insides and claiming her as his. When she collapses next to him, he pulls her close and rakes his fingers through her hair. Warm and sated, she closes her eyes and gives thanks that she never has to let him go.

****

Their daughter is born nine months later. She’s perfect as far as both of them are concerned. With Peeta’s blue eyes and her dark hair, she’s the best of both of them and doesn’t deserve anything bad thing that might happen to her.

When she’s two weeks old and Katniss can finally put her down without fear of losing her, Peeta suggests a photo shoot. Of all the memories that war in her head, the birth of her daughter is one she wants to stick, so she agrees.

It’s Peeta who brings out the frayed, faded, pink ribbon and ties it around their daughter’s ankle. Balking at first, Katniss reaches for it, almost desperate to yank it free, but then the baby blinks open her eyes and looks right into her mother’s. They’re Peeta’s, but the blue is so similar to Prim’s that Katniss can almost imagine this child, the one she birthed, is her younger sister. The ribbon binds the past with the present and gives hope for the future. It’s a special moment, one she won’t ever forget.

Chapter 5

“Hello, Hazelle, is Gale home?”

“Hi, Katniss, yes he is. Please come in.” The Hawthorne house feels like family, and it’s always cheerful, despite the lack of abundant food, or luxuries.

“No, thank you. I’m in a hurry. I just need to talk to him.” When Hazelle raises her eyelashes, I say the only thing I can think of, “Business.”

Not that Gale and I hunt together often nowadays, but she accepts my explanation and goes inside to get her eldest.

“Hey, Catnip, what’s up?” He is smiling, totally unaware of the news I’m going to deliver, and totally unaware of my fury.

“Peeta has asked me to give you a message.” He stiffens but tries to keep a neutral face. “It is going to be tonight; your group has to be ready by midnight.”

“I was going to tell you, Katniss.”

“When?” I confront him. “When the rebellion had already started?

“No, a bit before.I was thinking we could use the cabin at the lake for our families and Leevy.” He looks apologetic, at least. “This timing isn’t ideal. We aren’t ready.”

“Peeta said it was too early, too.”

“He has a lot of confidence in you to trust you with this.

I scoff at his words. “He didn’t have much of an option; he said he couldn’t come himself because it might be peculiar and could raise questions.”

“He would have told you anyway, Katniss.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“Since when are you two friends?”

“I wouldn’t call us friends. But we’re in this together. We are allies.”

“But I didn’t want to be involved in this!” I hiss. I am furious, and I don’t care what these idiots say.

“You are involved! We all are!” he shouts but quickly becomes aware of our location on the street and grasps my arm to lead me to the backyard. His words now a whisper, he says, “You don’t have a clue what he has done. You don’t have a clue how much risk he’s taken up until now and how much risk he will be taking from now on. This is bigger than just District Twelve.”

I frown at his words. He’s right; I don’t have a clue who Peeta Mellark is, because he sure as hell is a great actor. “And I don’t want to know,” I finish stubbornly. “He lied to me.”

Gale embraces me in a tight hug and whispers against my ear, “Katniss, I love you, you know that. That’s why I’m telling you; you will never forgive yourself if something happens to Peeta.” I nod, trying to hold back the tears that his words or his departure bring to my eyes.“Listen, my family will be at your place for dinner. Stay there for a couple of hours and then escape to the lake. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Take care, Catnip.”

“You too, Gale.”

And with a kiss on his cheek, I go home.

Mom and Prim aren’t at home when I get there, but their note says they won’t take long. I try not to be worried; they will be on time, but what happens if they aren’t?

To keep my mind occupied I begin to pack, just the essentials. The cabin is three hours away at a fast pace, and we will go in the dark, with kids and our belongings…

It is not going to be easy.

I’m in the kitchen cooking dinner when I hear my sister calling my name. “Hey Katniss, you’re home.”

Her joy has always been contagious, and even in the most dire situation, she’s the person that can bring a smile to my face. “And I am cooking,” I tease because it’s well known in the Everdeen household that cooking isn’t one of my talents. “Where's Mom? I need to talk with both of you.”

My mom appears in the threshold of the kitchen while I’m asking the question and looks at me with expectation. She’s seen the baggage in our room but stays quiet and waits for me to speak. I don’t think our house is bugged, but just in case, I signal to the backyard, and the two of them follow me.

“There’s going to be an uprising tonight, here in twelve, and most likely in other districts as well.”

Both of them gasp. “We have to escape tonight with the Hawthornes to Dad’s lake. It will be a long, tough trip with small kids; it’ll be cold; some parts of the terrain will be covered by snow or frozen, and it’ll be dark. I’ve packed the basics, but you should double check your healer kit. The Hawthornes will be here shortly, so could you please finish it?”

“Did you pack your dad’s plant book?” My mom asks.

“We can’t bring it with us, Mom. It’s too heavy.” She frowns at my answer. “You need to be realistic, Mom.” There’s a clear edge of exasperation in my voice because I already feel guilty for leaving it behind. But we need to be practical if we want to survive.

“I am not going anywhere without that book, Katniss.”

“It’s just a book,” I shout, exasperated because, of course, she had to be difficult today.

“It’s more than a book.”

“Mom…”

“No, listen. Did I ever tell you I didn’t say goodbye to your dad the day he died in the mines?” I shake my head; I didn’t know. “I was mad at him over something silly that I can’t really remember anymore. When we went to sleep that night I didn’t kiss him goodnight, and in the morning, I also refused to kiss him. He kissed me on the top of my head and told me that he’d make it up to me that night and that we’d work on the plant book. He never came back… I wasted our last night, our last kiss, and I will regret it my whole life. That book, and you girls, are the last reminder of your father.”

Her eyes are sad, and for the first time, I can truly understand her grief, but her confession brings Gale’s words back to my mind. There’s a knock on the door signaling that the Hawthornes and Leevy are here. The next two hours are quiet and full of tension, for we are all conscious that our life is about to change… forever.

“Ok, let’s go,” says Rory, looking at the watch on his wrist. It’s his dad’s, a watch Gale has been wearing since I’ve known him. It’s not lost on me, the meaning of my friend’s gesture; it’s a way to protect their legacy, like my mom is trying to do with my dad’s plant book. Because a war is about to start… and people die in wars.

We make it faster than we anticipated and without any incident through the fence, and we start the hike to the cabin. I can’t shake the fear I have everytime Peeta’s image pops up in my head.

“This is a good spot to rest for five minutes; it’s the start of the trail that leads to the lake.” I can hear the sigh of relief coming from Hazelle and Posy. “I need to go with Rory to hide our tracks, just in case, ok?”

Everyone nods, and I motion to Rory to follow me. Once we’re out of earshot, I whisper to him, “What time is it?”

“Ten minutes to eleven.” That’s good; I still have some time. Not a lot, but it should be enough.

“Listen, Rory, I need to go back.”

“You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not. I need to do something important. I will leave the district before midnight. You know the way, Rory; you can lead them to the next clearing and I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours.”

“I can’t do this!”

“Yes, you can. I trust you. You know I wouldn’t leave Prim with anyone I wouldn’t trust her life with. I know you will keep her safe.” The previous hesitation in his face molds to determination when he hears me speak my sister’s name.

“I will. I promise.”

“I’ll meet you by one at the river clearing, but if I’m late, don’t wait for me. We will meet in the cabin.” I turn around to leave, but Rory’s words stop me.

“What do you want me to tell them? Prim will ask.”

“Tell my mom to explain to Prim why my dad's plant book is so important. They will understand.”

When Rory goes back, I run back to Twelve, and Peeta.

I get to Victor’s Village in record time and knock on Peeta’s door, but no one answers. I realize I never thought Peeta wouldn’t be at home. I look at the windows and I don’t see light or any movement, but my eyes catch the light in Haymitch’s house.

Without knocking this time, I stomp in my employer’s home.

“Haymitch! Haymitch, are you awake? Have you seen Peeta?” I shout from the hall.

“No need to shout, sweetheart; we are here, and as you should know we have guests.” I go to the dining room with the intention of asking him what the hell he is talking about, and I am shocked to see two peacekeepers, Crane and Darius, sharing dinner with them. “And here she is, a bit late to help with the dinner but on time for cleaning up” he announces for the audience.

“Sorry,” I answer in a neutral voice. “But you told me to be here at a quarter past eleven.”

“I clearly said a quarter past eight.”

“No, you didn’t.” I frown, hoping our charade can explain my unusual interruption at nearly midnight before the rebellion starts.

Peeta laughs,and I frown at him. “What?” I snap.

He shrugs and looks at Haymitch, who laughs again. “It was definitely at quarter past eight, Katniss. You don’t listen when people talk to you.”

I see in Crane’s face that Peeta’s words have hit the nail on the head, and we are saved. I realise also why Peeta and Haymitch have made it this far, because nothing throws them.

“I will take the dishes to the kitchen.”

“I’ll help you,” Peeta offers, standing up. “I need to prepare some chocolates for the drinks.”

“Chocolate?” Crane asks, surprised.

“Oh yes, it’s the latest trend in the Capitol.”

“I’ll pour the drinks in the library, gentlemen. Please follow me” Haymitch says, and they move to the next room.

When we are alone in the kitchen, Peeta closes the door behind us.

“Is everything ok? What are you doing here, Katniss? You should be out of here.”

“I know.”

“Then, what are you doing here? Why did you want to speak with me?”

There are hundreds of questions I want to ask Peeta, such as why the peacemakers are having dinner with them, what his role in this rebellion is going to be, why did Gale tell me he was taking big risks… But I do the only thing I can think of; even if it may be suicide, I kiss him. Peeta laces his arms around my waist and kisses me back.

“I don’t know what this is for, but I’ll take what you give me,” he says, nipping my jaw.

“I didn’t want to leave while we were mad,” I answer him. “I wanted you to know that… that I care about you.”

“I wish I could freeze this moment right now and live in it forever.” He places one of his large hands on my cheek, and I lean my head into it, taking his warmth.

“I would allow it.”

“Will you?” he asks hopefully. I can only nod as tears pool my eyes. “Hey, don’t be sad. I promise I’ll be back.”

“You can’t promise that,” I reply.

“You’re right, I can’t, but I can promise I will fight until my last breath to come back to you. Because you owe me, Katniss Everdeen.” I look at him flabbergasted and he registers my surprise “Is that too much?” he asks “Do I need to apologise?”

I know I should be scared of his words that show his undeniable love for me, but they just warm my heart.

“No, you don’t. I wish you could stay with me.”

“One day” he says, disentangling from my embrace. “But, I need to go now, or Crane will be suspicious again, and you need to leave before everything starts.”

“And Darius?”

“Darius is one of us.” And that makes sense because Darius has always been a gentle person. “Listen to me now. It’s important. Haymitch is going to pour some sleep syrup in Crane’s and my drink. They need to think I’m with the Capitol, so I can send information from there.”

“Peeta…” I exclaim with dismay.

“I won’t be able to speak with you or see you until this war ends, but I’ll be thinking about you, every second. I’ll come back to you, Katniss. Always.”

“Always,” I repeat.

He kisses me once more and then walks out of the kitchen with a dish full of chocolates and vanilla.

That’s the last time I see Peeta until the war ends sixteen months later. Fortunately, the uprising in Twelve is successful, and the Capitol forgets very quickly about it. We are poor, and they have other more strategic districts to defend, but the war, as always , is brutal, and there are many casualties.

True to his word, Peeta doesn’t try to communicate with me, but Haymitch tells me when he can that Peeta is still alive, and I cling to that hope.

It’s a splendid spring day when the war ends and peace is signed, and I decide to go to the meadow to enjoy the sun and the feeling of freedom. A freedom we have earned after decades of Hunger Games and oppression. I wish my dad could see this new Panem, a Panem where Prim and Rory’s child, my beautiful niece, can live carefree.

I am so absorbed in these thoughts that I don’t hear the footsteps approaching until

I hear his voice saying my name.

“Katniss…” His blue eyes are on me when I turn around, and butterflies flutter in my stomach.

“You’re back.”

“They wouldn’t let me leave the Capitol until yesterday.”

He looks well, a bit thin but healthy, and that is all that matters. I run to him and wrap my arms tightly around his neck; he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I won’t be the first to let go.

“So…will you stay with me?” I whisper with a bit of uncertainty that disappears as soon as he answers.

At Odds

(Peeta’s POV)

I would never pressure Katniss. I love her, and she is more than enough.

Or is she?

I don't know. Why am I having these thoughts? I know I love her, and she IS my life. My whole life. But lately, the tug in my heart for a baby has been too much. It's like a physical ache that pierces me every time I think about it. When I walk to town and see children playing, my usual response of being happy to see them becomes sadness. I would never get to experience having a child of my own.

I don't know what changed, because I used to be fine about it. For years, I had accepted that Katniss did not want to have a child, but these past few months, I doubted my decision. Was I really okay with it? Will I ever really be happy just having Katniss as my only family?

These thoughts make me feel like I'm betraying her. By even entertaining the idea that Katniss is not enough for me. Why wouldn't she be? Katniss loves me. In the arena, she gave up everything for me. When I returned to Twelve, she helped me get better despite her own struggles.

When I was released from the Capitol, I was half-mad. They didn't know what to do with me, so they exiled me to District 12 before I was even fully healed. Saving me became Katniss’ priority. After I planted primroses in her yard, she came to my house to see me. Her eyes were filled with fear at the sight of me, but she did try to check up on me, even from afar. In Thirteen, I traumatized her when I strangled her. Touching her neck whenever I was in her presence became an unconscious habit of hers. Even though I was holed up in the basement, trying to get away from her, Katniss brought me game every day and stayed in my living room just to keep me company. So many times, I pushed her away -- so many times -- yet she always came back. Katniss loved me. Still loves me after all these years. So why am I asking for more? Why am I so baby-crazy that I would even consider Katniss not enough for me? I love her. I love her. I love her. I love her. There is no doubt about it, so why is my heart double-crossing me?

I try to brush away these feelings to the back of my mind as I work in the bakery. Things have been looking up, and we're expanding to the next lot beside us. It will be a cafe of some sort where people can dine and enjoy freshly baked bread and pastries. My right-hand man, Lenny, is doing all the work in the drink section, and our taste tests have been more than promising. Many of our customers who tried our free samples can't wait until we finally start our cafe. Katniss has been nothing else but supportive of me, coaxing me to keep going and trusting in myself. She always tells me how proud she is of me and I feel so loved by her. I wish I could brush away my other feelings because, damn, I sound so ungrateful and disloyal at the moment.

I guessed it all started when Thom and Delly had Katniss and me babysit little Timothy. He was two years old, a chubby and fudgy little thing with blonde hair and gray eyes. His cheeks were rosy even with his fair skin, and with his teeth coming along, it made him so ridiculously cute. It was just for one day as Delly and Thom needed to visit an ill friend in District 11. I have held so many babies before; mothers just seem to toss them into my arms at the bakery, but there was something about little Timothy that day that snared my heart. We were just playing in the living room with the wooden blocks Katniss gave him for his birthday. She took the time to cut branches and carve out different natural shapes for little Timothy, then she sealed the wood with sweet-smelling beeswax. Timothy loved it, and he couldn't stop playing with the blocks. We were stacking the blocks together and laughing out loud when they fell.

His squeaks were so endearing they made our big house vibrant with life. We chuckled and laughed, and I made funny faces at him to make him giggle all the more. I was always good at making babies happy, and I pulled all the stops for little Timothy. He was so jolly and so giggly, clapping his hands while saliva drooled out from his mouth. His head would jerk back when he started to smile, and we both lost it in happiness. Then, he just suddenly hugged me and called me "Papa." I didn't think he meant that I was his father. It was just how kids were. They used the words they knew when they spoke, and at that time, he called me "Papa" and embraced me. He rested his round head on my shoulders, seeming to want to sleep, and I just held him. He was tired from all our playing and laughing, I guess. I still remembered his sweet baby smell. The faint scent of vanilla shampoo that Delly used on his hair. The slightly sour smell of milk clinging to his skin. His delicate and tiny baby clothes. And the soft mewls that he made when he fell asleep. I fell asleep on the floor with him, leaning my back on the couch while little Timothy rested on my chest. When I woke up, Katniss lay sideways on the couch behind us, one of her hands resting on little Timothy's back and the other on my shoulders. After that, I couldn't shake the feeling of hoping for our own child.

I brushed the feelings away days later because I felt like I was a hypocrite to Katniss. I've been reassuring her that she was enough for me all these years, and here I am harboring feelings for another dream. I threw myself at bakery work with a vengeance, focusing all my attention on the cafe, sketching various layouts, and designing menus. I baked like crazy, inventing recipes we didn't need at the moment. I tried as much as possible not to think of vanilla shampoos, tiny baby clothes, and tender little breaths. When mothers with babies came to the bakery, I made an excuse to get something at the back. When I saw kids playing on the street, I walked on the other side, so I only needed to give them a wave and not stay awhile for chit-chat or arm swings.

It was working, and I finally felt like my old self, but then I had a dream of Katniss in the meadows holding our child. It was like my mind retaliated against shoving the thoughts aside. If I couldn't bring the contemplations to my conscious life, then they would come out in my unconscious life -- a.k.a. my sleep. I wish I could say it was a nightmare, but it wasn't. I woke up with warm, fuzzy feelings that morning. And even the mornings after. I was happy, but I was also heartbroken and mad at myself. The more I tried not to think about it during the day, the more vivid and blissful my dreams were at night. Nothing was as captivating and soothing as seeing Katniss in the meadows, breastfeeding our baby. In my dreams, she would look at me with her stormy gray eyes and a peaceful smile as she nourished our child. The picture was so beautiful, Katniss was so beautiful, and our baby was so beautiful. I wanted to go back to sleep the very moment I woke up just to relish the feelings longer. I felt awful, though. So freaking horrible because Katniss was asleep beside me in bed every time I woke up. She would give me a good morning kiss and look at me with so much affection, but all I wanted was to go back to my dream where another Katniss was waiting for me. Katniss, the mother of my child. I was so fucked up. I hated myself.

I know Katniss noticed the changes in me. She would ask me what was wrong or give me this concerned look when I would zone out. If we were walking together in town and there were kids or a couple with a child between them along our path, I would involuntarily squeeze Katniss' hand. My heart simply ached when I saw children. I had these questions about how it would feel if I was in their parent's shoes. How would it feel like walking hand in hand with my son, swaying him between Katniss and me? How would it be like taking my daughter to school or braiding her hair because fathers could do that too, right? How would it be during birthdays? What cake would my son request when he turns seven? What questions would they ask? Will they be as stubborn and resilient as their mother? Will they be interested in the bakery? How would our lives change the first moment we would lay our eyes on our child? With every question, my insides clenched and ached, and I swear I wanted to cry sometimes. I did once in my painting room when it was too much. It just hurts. I scolded myself for being so uncontrolled after. The emotions of just wanting something so much but not seeing how it could work out or worse, agreeing that it was best to not have it in the first place was agonizing. Every time Katniss smiled at me or hugged me or kissed me, I felt like a fake. I felt like I was lying to her. And I was. I was even so ludicrous that when we were in bed and making love, I had momentarily wished that maybe a slip would happen and we would be pregnant. I was so fucking selfish in those times, and I hated myself even more. It was unfair. It was wrong.

How could I have those thoughts about Katniss? She needs to be on board with this decision -- which we already agreed on years ago. My skin crawls at my hypocrisy. I have to talk to Katniss about this. She's the only person in the world that I want to talk to about my feelings about bringing a baby into our lives. I know that she would understand me and set me right.

 ….……………..

 Lies and Realizations

(Katniss’ POV) 

Peeta's been hiding something from me. I know I'm not the perceptive one between the two of us, but the changes in him are just too evident to hide. Try as he might, Peeta is such a poor liar and is innately good that when something is wrong with him it just spills out.

While asleep, he would have this contented expression -- peaceful and quiet like our afternoons in the meadow. It was like all his worries were resolved. I loved watching him like that when he slept. He was just so beautiful. He carried a soft smile, and his breathing was calm. Sometimes I even see him have an eager smile, and then he would say my name. I would press a kiss on his forehead on those nights, sometimes even a kiss on his lips, because I couldn't resist. But when he wakes up, something shifts. Happiness would shine when he opened his eyes, but after I kissed him, his lips would grow cold, or there would be a momentary freeze as if he realized something terrible. Then he would try to hide it by burying his forehead on my neck and kissing me there. But his kisses felt different. One time he even said the word "Sorry" after a kiss. It was so faint, and he thought I didn't hear him, but I did. What was Peeta apologizing for so early in the morning? What is happening to my husband?

I tried to cast aside the feelings first because I trusted Peeta. If something was wrong, I knew he would tell me. Our vow spans fifteen years now. Sure, our toasting was impulsive, and we didn't plan to have it in the middle of the night on some random day, but we both knew we wanted to do it. It was like what he said in the interview during the Quarter Quell, we wanted to make our love eternal, so we did. We vowed to love each other, honor each other, make each other happy, and provide for each other's needs. His hijacking, my depression, and all our fears were things we fought fiercely so that they won't come between us. None of them was above our love. Together, we would forge a strong marriage. Always.

But something is gnawing on Peeta now, and he is not telling. I have to find out and help him.

I have an inkling of what it might be, but I have to be sure before talking to him. Knowing him, I don't want to scare him or make him push his feelings aside because I know he will prioritize me above everything else. That's just so Peeta. Putting himself last so he could make everyone happy. Make me happy. He loves me so much, and he tells me so every single day and opportunity he gets. I can only wish he knows how much I love him back. He is my life. My love. My everything.

I started noticing the changes a few months ago. Peeta would vary his path going to work or squeeze my hand at random times of the day when we were together. We would walk in town eating ice cream, then suddenly, I would feel him stiffen for a split second as if something ached inside him. I would look at him and ask him what was wrong, but he would just brush it away and give me some small reason. Reasons like the hot weather, which he never complained about before ever. Or that his prosthetic leg had buckled, which he never said anything about, even when we would take the long hike to the lake. We would trek for four hours straight every Sunday, and never once did he say that his prosthesis would "buckle." What did "buckle" even mean? To give him the benefit of the doubt, I would give his leg a massage when we got home to make sure he was all right. He would be very thankful after, and then he would retreat to his painting room. He would go there to sketch or draw up ideas. Doing art relaxed him, and he would show me his paintings or sketches after. It has been a long time since he has shown me any of his works. I'm welcome to come to his painting room, but I never did unless he asked me to. I do it out of respect for him. Peeta needed his own space, just like I needed my woods every day.

The very clue that convinced me was my visit to the bakery three weeks ago. Mothers love handing Peeta their babies. I guess they figured out years before that between Peeta and me, it was Peeta who would welcome the tiny living creatures with open arms. They would lift their babies over the counter so Peeta could hold the gurgly little things while they filled their baskets with bread and pastries. He would coo and make faces at the baby and everyone in the bakery would smile from hearing the baby giggle so much. It warmed everyone's hearts. It warmed my heart to see him so happy and enjoying himself. But lately, he would go to the back to fiddle with something or make a call when a mother came in with her child. Peeta would never pass up the opportunity to hold a baby before, but now he seemed to be avoiding them entirely. We would still babysit little Timothy when Delly and Thom needed help, but aside from little Timothy, Peeta was staying away from all children, it seemed.

When things become too hard to sort out, I go to the woods. One way or the other, I always get answers in the woods. Sometimes, I go to my father's lake to talk to him and seek his advice. His body may be long gone in the mines, but I know his soul and spirit live in the woods. I knew he met Peeta before he died. My father would trade with Mr. Mellark, and we would get fresh bread every three days. Peeta was always with his dad in the kitchen, kneading dough or just watching him decorate cakes until he was assigned the job himself.

It warms my heart to know Peeta and my father crossed paths. I still wish he is here to see Peeta as my husband. I think he would have liked the boy with the bread and would tell me that I made a rare catch.

While in my father's lake, I ponder everything that has happened to Peeta's life so far. I am not the introspective type between the two of us, but living with Peeta taught me a thing or two about contemplating life. I remember how Peeta acted when he was younger, living in the bakery with his loving father and a witch of a mother. How he had two older brothers he wrestled with. He loved his brothers, and he would tell me this over dinner. Talking about his family helped him heal. Peeta became an orphan when he was just seventeen. He lost his family when the Capitol firebombed Twelve on that horrific day. He didn't know it at the time as he was being tortured by Snow. He came back to me slowly. I could still hear him asking to let him die during our Capitol mission. He pushed me away to protect me because he went mutt on me at the hospital. I'm glad I still had the good sense to not give him the nightlock pill. I was half-mad at that time, but I knew one thing then: Peeta needed to live. He came back to me after the war, albeit still sick from the hijacking. They gave up on him.

How preposterous that they gave up on the kindest, most generous, and self-sacrificing person in all of Panem. They just put him on the train and left him in his house to die from his tortured mind. He couldn't be expected to heal by himself alone. He needed people to help him sort out what was real and what was not real.

I resented the new Panem then; I still resent them to some degree because of it. Slowly and with much resistance from my help, Peeta let me in. He came back to me. I still feel the warmth of his palm on my forearm the first time that he voluntarily touched me. We were sitting on his porch just watching the rain pour on the earth and make puddles, not speaking but just letting the time go by. He just placed his hand on my right forearm as he did before on the train and said nothing. When the rain stopped, he removed his hand and then said the softest thank you before going back inside his house. I considered it a win then and never doubted that Peeta could fully recover his memories.

We grew back together. He started baking again, bringing me cheese buns in the morning. He took care of the primroses in the garden. He held me on the first night he was conscious enough to recognize my screams. After that, he stayed with me every night. There hadn't been one night when we hadn't slept on the same bed (or couch or carpet) for fifteen years. Starting his own bakery again brought so much joy to Peeta. I was so proud of him for keeping the legacy of his family alive. Those were blissful years. It felt like nothing could dampen our day.

Except for one thing -- having a baby. The only thing that brought us real conflict was talking about starting a family. Peeta would reason with me, and I would explain or yell at him. We would go back and forth, tossing the ball to each other without respite. He was kind and calm all the time, and it was me who would lose my composure because my fears were just too great. In the end, it was always Peeta that would concede for my well-being. He was the one who stopped asking five years ago. We talked about it one last time, and he said that he had finally accepted what I wanted. He granted every wish of mine for years except that one. It took him a decade to come to terms with it, and we were both comfortable with our decision. We both agreed that many things in life made us happy and that having each other was the ultimate joy. He loved me, and I loved him. After everything we both went through, that was enough. More than enough. But now, I think Peeta has a change of heart.

I guess I knew that this would have happened anyway. Peeta would be perfect as a father. And Peeta, being an orphan, sure longs to have a family of his own. A family with me.

I sigh deeply at the realization of what I had withheld from him all these years. I'm still afraid, extremely, but I guess I should have realized earlier that Peeta would hold my hand no matter what. He stayed with me all these years and through every situation. Nothing was beneath him when it came to me. He loved me, pure and simple. And now I look at how much I didn't love him back. This was one longing Peeta held on to, and I was too selfish to see it. I let my fear blind me. I didn't factor in the effect Peeta would have on me. We're always better when we faced our demons together.

My Peeta. My poor husband. How incredibly long have I refused him, have crushed his heart out of fear? He must be so miserable denying himself such simple happiness because he put my needs first. I feel terrible overlooking this part of him. How can I call myself his wife? I have to fix this, and I hope it's not yet too late.

 ….………….

 Resolution

(Peeta’s POV)

 "Hey," I greet Katniss as she enters the bakery. "How was hunting?"

"Hey," she greets me back lazily with a warm smile. She's always so alluring when she returns from the woods. She carries its calmness and life with her every time. "I went to my father's lake."

“Oh yeah? That’s wonderful.”

"It was. I didn't bring anything back, though. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I grab a paper bag from the back and give it to Katniss. "Cheese buns?"

"For me?" she flirts. "Why not?"

Katniss eats the cheese buns with gusto. She savors the cheese oozing out of each bun as she bites into them. I've been baking like a madman this afternoon to ease my anxiety. I made her all kinds of cheese buns -- a batch filled in the center with three different kinds of cheese, another bunch with some paprika in it, and the third batch with pesto made from the herbs Katniss gathered yesterday. I have two more stashes for tomorrow which I will bake in the morning at home. Baking really does wonders for my nerves, and I calmed down substantially after doing it.

"Are you closing up soon?" Katniss asks after her third piece of cheese buns. She already guessed about the paprika that I added in the second batch. "I haven't made dinner yet, I'm afraid. I went straight here after the woods."

“It’s okay. I made a lot of cheese buns. Is that acceptable for dinner?”

"You don't even have to ask," she mumbles in between bites, then kisses my cheek with her cheesy lips. "I could eat this all day!"

“Good thing you married a baker, huh?”

“Best decision I made,” she teases. “By the way, we should go to the lake tomorrow. We haven’t gone there in two weeks. How about it?”

"Sure. I'd love that," I say and move in to claim a kiss. "Good thing I married a huntress."

She beams at me and gets another cheese bun. She really loves cheese.

We walk hand-in-hand on our way back to Victor's Village. It's Sunday tomorrow, and the bakery is closed, like every shop in District 12. We pass by some kids playing on the streets, and I try my hardest not to react to them. Instead, I focus on the warm cheese buns in my free hand and on the feeling of a small piece of paper tucked deep in my pants pocket. While waiting for Katniss at the bakery, I started making a list of reasons why Katniss is more than enough for me. I scribbled a couple so far before she arrived and I quickly hid the list in my pocket for later. I'll finish it at home after dinner. Katniss wouldn't suspect a thing as I usually make lists when we're sitting on the couch by the fire.

“I’ll take a shower first, okay?” Katniss tells me after we’ve settled down in the kitchen. I usually do the cooking except for days when there are too many orders at the bakery. Tonight, I don’t mind doing it. It will give me more time to work on my list while she showers.

"Okay. Take your time," I reply, and Katniss gives me a quick kiss and ruffles my hair. She knows that I love it when she does that. That's one more thing I have to add to my list.

When I hear the shower pour upstairs, I bring out the folded paper from my pocket.

'Reasons why Katniss is MORE than enough for me.' The word 'more' is underlined twice and written in bold letters for emphasis.

  1. She loves me.

 Nothing compares to being loved by Katniss Everdeen. She loves so fiercely and generously. What more can I ask for?

2. She brought me back from my hijacked state.

  3. She saved my life so many times and in so many ways.

4. She’s the most patient when I try out new recipes. She doesn’t rush me like Haymitch. She just watches me and writes down the recipe as I go.

5. She kisses me every morning. Even with bad breath because there was a time we both loved having midnight snacks.

6. She brings me game and fruits and herbs and flowers from the woods. She forgot today, but that's nothing compared to fifteen years of gifting me every day.

7. Her voice. Need I say more?

8. She ruffles my hair like I have the most beautiful curls in all of Panem.

9. She lets me braid her hair on Sundays.

10. She encourages me to pursue my dreams — the bakery, the cafe, my art.

I rub my cheek as I remember how I got to exhibit some of my works twice because of her. I never imagined that in my wildest dreams.

11. She tells me she loves me EVERY day.

12. Her body.

13. She holds my father in high regard.

She traded with him, and I'm so thankful they met even briefly.

"Hey, Peeta," Katniss calls from the stairs, and I stash away my list. "I forgot, I brought you some wild apples. It's still in my hunting bag."

I scratch out 'She forgot' on number six of my list. She never forgets.

After dinner, we retreat to the living room to warm ourselves by the fire. It's not really cold today, but we love it nonetheless. Katniss is reading a book sent by Effie. She's been sending us classic books for a few years now, and Katniss is the one burning through them as I've been busy working on the cafe. I bring out my list and tuck it between my usual notebook to disguise it. I glance at Katniss, and she's buried in the old book. Good, I'm safe to write as many things I can on my list.

14. She loves bread and cake.

15. She lets me sketch and paint her.

16. She sings to me when I am sick or just tired.

 "So serious." Katniss distracts me after a while and rubs her foot on my outer thigh. She's taking up most of the couch, leaning on the other end while her feet just brush my thigh. "It's Sunday tomorrow, Peeta. Just rest."

I give her a small smile and close my notebook to hide my list. “How about a foot massage?” I offer. I shift on the couch to remove her socks and start rubbing both her feet. I make a note to add this to my list.

17. She lets me massage her feet.

She lets out a deep sigh as I warm up her gorgeous feet with my big hands. I place my palms on either side of her right foot and gently twist it with just the right amount of pressure that she likes. The result is immediate, and she relaxes. She's a little tense from hiking to the lake, so I take my time to warm her feet up. Then I rub her arch, slowly running my thick thumbs along its length. Katniss has such deliciously slender feet that I take my time stroking them. Kneading them and caressing them with my full attention. I continue my smooth motion from the heel to the ball of her foot, shifting from soft to hard presses.

To my luck, I get rewarded with a throaty moan and a deep exhalation from Katniss. "So good," she tells me as her chest dips.

I can see that she already stopped reading her book but is still holding it up. The toes of her feet are a little ticklish, so I massage them lightly and slowly. It still tickles, she says, but at least she doesn't kick me or pull away her foot. I love seeing how my touches shoot signals up to her knees and hips, sending them off the cushion as her muscles contract. Sometimes she scrunches her eyes, and her foot curls as she restrains her natural reflexes. 

I don't know what it is, but she's so exquisite to watch during these times. She’s seriously so sexy. I can't take my eyes off of her.

I try different massages on her feet, finding delectable pressure points that trigger spots around her body. I squeeze her heels firmly, then use my knuckles or fist to indulgently stroke her arches. I then airily tap my fingers all over her skin like fluttering kisses. She hates it when I grasp her Achilles tendon with my thumb and index finger, but I do it all the time to get a reaction from her. I make it up by sliding her loose sweatpants up and running my hands along her powerful calf. I stroke her firm muscles to build heat on her skin, then apply more and more pressure after, increasing the blood flow there. My blood flow increases somewhere too, just watching her.

The massage would have been better with oil, but the oils are all the way up in our bedroom, and I am in no mood to get them. Katniss closes her book later and lets it drop on the floor with a soft thump. She finds a more comfortable position, laying her back flat on the couch and resting her feet on my lap. She shifts her free foot near my crotch unconsciously before digging her head deeper onto the couch pillow. She takes a deep breath and then puts her right hand over her chest. Her neck is blushing red as she tries to calm her breathing.

"Peetaaa ...," she releases breathily. I take all my cues from Katniss and continue massaging her luscious feet. Most of the time, she likes her massages hard and lingering, her legs and feet needing deep stimulation because of all the walking she does in the woods. Other times, she just likes warming and rhythmic touches. I'm happy to oblige with both anytime.

When I'm done, Katniss is so cozy, that she's ready to go to sleep. "Katniss?" I coo and give the top of her feet delicate kisses. I've been resisting it while giving her the massage.

“Hmmm ….”

When Katniss doesn't move, I gingerly lift her up and carry her to our bedroom. I almost forgot my list and have to double back to get it.

"Peetaaa ..." She drags my name just under my right ear while I go up the stairs. Her voice radiates warmth all over my torso.

"I got you, love. Don't worry." She tightens her arms around my neck and nuzzles the skin there. I only get away with pet names when she's very sleepy. Otherwise, I get a scowl. I guess I have to add her scowl to my list too. As much as she gives it to me out of frustration, I still love it. I love every bit of Katniss. Even the things that annoy me, like unscrewed containers of spices or milk in scrambled eggs or mail half-opened and left on the kitchen table or bath towels left on the bed. I can't count how many times I exited the shower only to find out there were no towels. At first, I thought she did it on purpose. You know, so she can see me wet and naked after a bath, but more often than not, she's not there when I leave the bathroom. I just find two towels on the bed. One mine and one hers. I have to add those things to my list. Not the towel, but how much she drives me crazy and how she scowls at me. It's weird, but I love them.

I make a mental note.

18. Her scowl that I love so much.

19. Her quirks that drive me crazy.

I carefully lay Katniss on her side of the bed, tucking her under the covers, then I make my way to the bathroom for a shower. The list is still in my pant pocket, safe while I wash off the flour from my skin. It's been such a long day, but tomorrow will be longer. I have to be honest with Katniss. She needs to know what's going on with me.

Freshly bathed and loosened up by the warm water, I lift the covers and slide beside Katniss. She lays her head over my shoulder like every night, cupping my bare chest where she can feel my heartbeat. I linger on the lavender smell of her hair and skin.

"I love you, Peeta," she says sleepily before planting a kiss on my collarbone. She then puts one of her legs over mine, hooking her body against mine. She is perfectly melded on my side, and I feel so loved.

"I love you too, Katniss," I whisper back and kiss her dark hair.

"You're my world, Peeta … you make me so happy," she whispers while lightly rubbing her palm over my heart. I feel guilty all over again for all my uncontained thoughts of babies and starting a family.

I silently mouth ‘I’m sorry’ into the air of the room and squeeze her hand over my heart. Katniss is more than enough for me. I don’t need anything else.

Nightmares totally have a different hold on me. Or I should say, my hijacked brain and not my nightmares, have a dubious hold on me. My dream bit me like a venomous snake because I actually touched our baby in my sleep. It was the same picture of Katniss gracefully sitting by the meadow in a flowing green summer dress that conveniently opens in front for breastfeeding. Normally, I would just watch from afar as my dream unfolds, but this time, I was right there beside Katniss, my right arm over her lean shoulders and my left softly on our baby's downy hair. I swear I could feel their weight and warmth on my palms, on my chest, and on my heart. I could unmistakably smell baby shampoo and milk. And I could vividly remember Katniss' expression of joy and peace. She was so radiant, and I felt so complete holding my world in my arms. I woke up with warm, fuzzy feelings all over my body again but quickly brushed them away. I can't indulge in these sensations. I still have an hour before Katniss rouses, so I carefully untangle myself from her body. I need to get this image out of my head and also finish my list.

I put on a worn-out shirt and go to my painting room, dragging my loose pajamas on the floor and clutching my list in my left hand. I turn on the lamp beside my work table. Then I sit in front of my easel that holds a painting I have been working on. I know Katniss doesn't come to this room unless I ask her, but I still cover this painting for fear that she may glance at it while passing by. That would be a disaster when it happens. I reread my list and added a few more things to it.

I must have been so engrossed in my thoughts because when I heard Katniss call my name, she was already in the hallway, only a few feet from the door. I panic and hastily hide the list under the cloth covering my recent painting in front of me. I brush my hair without purpose, trying to search my brain for what to say to Katniss when she comes into the room.

“Peeta?”

"I'm here," I say, failing terribly to sound normal. I turn around on my stool to face the door. "I'll be right out."

"Peeta?" she says again, but this time she's standing at the doorway. "Did you have a nightmare?"

‘No, I had a very pleasant dream, actually, ' I say in my head. "Yeah," I lie instead.

"Did you paint it already?" she asks with her raspy morning voice. She knows me so well. I need to paint my nightmares so they stop.

"Ummm …," I offer, and my lack of a clear answer worries her. She walks towards me, enveloping me in her arms. She feels so soft and comfortingly warm as she embraces me.

"I'm okay now, Katniss," I lie again. "We can go back to bed now." I pull her off of me and cradle her cheeks between my two hands. I offer her a weak smile and kiss her forehead. She nods, then embraces me again. We stay entwined for a few more minutes until I feel her hand move behind me as if reaching for something. I hold my breath.

"What's this, Peeta?" she asks and holds up my list near the light. Shoot. I didn't hide it well enough. The next thing I knew, the cloth behind me fell to the floor, revealing my painting.

"Um ... umm …," I offer feebly.

Katniss rubs my arms and then walks towards the easel. It holds a painting of her by the meadows breastfeeding our baby. It's my favorite dream but one I felt most guilty of. I didn't know why I thought it would work, but I'd been secretly painting them, hoping the dream would stop, just like my nightmares before.

"Are there more?" Katniss asks with a raspy voice. I steal a look at her and catch her soft gray eyes, she's not mad, so I go ahead and show her the rest. In total, I have four paintings done already. They're all from the same dream, but I rendered different parts. One was Katniss' careful arms holding our baby over her chest, another our baby's small pink hands, then just soft, yellow swaddle cloth, and another just the meadow with its golden sunset. I don't offer Katniss any explanation as she thoughtfully observes them. She touches each one, her fingers lingering on the tiny baby hands I painted on a big canvas.  

"Katniss?" I ask after a while. I'm so terrified that she would plummet into depression, the paintings triggering her long-time fear. "I wanted to talk to you about it … I was going to tell you later …"

She puts her fingers over my lips, silencing me. “How long?”

I won’t lie to her anymore.

“Four, five months. Since Delly and Thom had us babysit little Timothy.”

Katniss just nods her head once and lets out a shallow breath. She's just standing there in front of me, her eyes softly looking at me, but they are unreadable. My heart is thumping out of my chest, my tears building out of nervousness. I feel hot and cold all at the same time. "I'm sorry, Katniss," I begin and try to hold her gaze, but my eyes betray me with tears. "I'm sorry … I didn't mean to …," I sob.

"Sssshhh … Peeta …," she coos and hugs me tightly. I'm trembling, and I can't help it.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss ... I know … you're scared …" I gulp for air.

"And I understand. You're … " I can't breathe. "You're more than enough for me … You make me so happy," I ramble on in between sobs and hiccups.

Katniss is all I need. I know that now more than ever.

"Peeta …," she begins while running her palms over my back. "That's not true, and we both know it."

"No, it is," I say in earnest and hug her tighter. "You're all that I need. You're my world. Please, you have to know that."

"And you are mine." She pulls back and cups my face with both her hands. "You are my world too, you understand? I want to make you happy," she says, her voice so incredibly tender.

“I am happy … I just need more time … I’m sure I’ll forget …”

"Peeta, you're not, and you shouldn’t." She pulls me back and rests her forehead on my chin. "I want to make you happy. Completely happy."

"Katniss, please …," I plea, pouring all my love into her at this moment.

"I want to try." She exhales to my chest, her warm breath seeping through my cotton shirt. "Let's try starting a family."

"But Katniss … you don't ..."

"No buts, Peeta," she cuts in and bunches my shirt with her right hand and I know she's trying to be strong. I feel her squeeze her eyes shut. "I'm still scared, Peeta. But you will take care of me, right?" she says with a quiver in her voice. I can't believe my ears, and I am shocked into stillness.

"Peeta?" she calls, then looks up to my face. She's peaceful, afraid but with resolve. "I want to try having a baby with you. Build a family. I'm so scared, though, Peeta ... but I know it will make you happy. You will be with me all the way, all right?"

"Always"

My tears continue on, but I feel my body relax with her palms over my chest. I’m crying from happiness.

"I love you. Now come and kiss me." A small smile laces her eyes, and I know this is real. We are going to try having a baby. It will happen. My dream is suddenly happening.

“I love you, Katniss. You make me so happy. You’re my everything,” I say with every ounce of my being.

“Kiss me already, Peeta.”

And I do. I did it in between laughs and sobs and hiccups and with trembling hands on Katniss' jaws. I was giddy with joy and excitement for our future together. Katniss is more than enough for me. So much more than what I deserve in a hundred lifetimes, maybe not even then. I add one more important thing to my list.

20. She wants to start a family with me.

Katniss then picks up a pen and scribbles something on my list.

21. Katniss Everdeen has Peeta Mellark. Her love.

As Katniss's mother and Prim disappear around the bend in the road that will lead them back to the Seam, I pull my new wife against my side. She sighs in contentment.

What a night. We couldn't have asked for a better party. Our closest friends and family, beautiful weather, and even more beautiful than the sunset disappearing behind the mountain range or the sound of the mockingjays singing nearby was Katniss in her Mother's wedding gown. Happy, laughing.

The Maginty family played music for hours, covering everything from lively dance numbers to slower, romantic tunes, joyful songs, and mournful ones that brought tears to my new wife's eyes. I held Katniss close and let her have a moment while we swayed to the song about lost love. I knew who she thought of and wished he could have been here too.

On a side note, I love calling Katniss my wife.

The band packed their guitars, banjo, mandolin, and accordion not long before the rest of our guests left, tucking Haymitch's remaining "donation" into their cases as well. Neither Katniss nor I am much for drinking. That was fine with us. I tried to slip them a few coins for playing at our party, but the patriarch, Arden, shooed me off. Said the white liquor was payment enough. 

Once they were gone, Haymitch told me the family doesn't typically play for more than an hour or two unless they enjoyed themselves at a shindig. I think they played for us for about four hours altogether. 

The sun is a long time gone by now. It has to be well after midnight. 

It's a good thing there's no longer a curfew to abide by.

Katniss's mother and Prim stayed longer than the rest of our guests to help us clean up the backyard. The leftover food is in the kitchen, and the decorations are down. Katniss and I moved the tables and chairs onto the back porch for tonight. We'll borrow a cart sometime tomorrow to return her Mother's and the Cartwrights' furniture. 

Tonight I'm more content than I can ever recall being. Katniss is at my side, my arm around her. Once the light from Prim's lantern has disappeared around the bend in the road, Katniss turns to me. She touches my cheek and, standing on her tiptoes, leans her forehead against mine before taking her time kissing me. 

"It's been a lovely night, hasn't it, wife?" I murmur. I want to live in this moment forever, I decide.

"Umm," Katniss smiles against my lips at the new term of endearment. Pleasant warmth settles in my stomach when I kiss her back. Any remaining tension in her melts away when I pull her as close as I can, molding the gentle curves of her body into mine. 

Her breath catches. All I can think of is taking her to bed.

Katniss has other ideas. "Peeta," she says, moving away from my lips. "I want a do-over," she says softly.

I search her face for any sign of disappointment or remorse. There isn't any. I'm not sure what she's thinking, but I'll play along. "Sure. Anything you want."

Katniss bites her lip and, pulling away from my arms, takes my hand and tries to tug me through the front door. "Oh no, none of that now," I say, picking her up to carry her over the door's threshold. "Where to?"

"The front room."

The small fire we built for the toasting is out, but once I set Katniss down, she walks to the hearth and kneels on the rug. "Can you get another fire going?" she asks.

"Of course."

Katniss silently watches as I kneel beside the hearth and start a blaze with kindling, coaxing it along until the small pile of logs begins to burn too. We watch the flames together; meanwhile, she reaches into my lap, taking both of my hands in hers. 

I can't help smiling fondly at how she sits, contemplating me as though she's gathering her thoughts to say something. The firelight dances off her face, and strands of hair escape from her crown of braids. 

I reach for her, stroking her smooth cheek with the back of my hand. "You look as though you have something to say," I tell her.

Katniss takes my hand from her cheek and turns it over, kissing my palm. It takes my breath away the same as it does every time we're like this. To the rest of the world, she's a mystery, but when we're alone, Katniss is open, soft, and loving.

"Yes. When everyone was here, and we said our vows, there were things I wanted to say in front of them. But I couldn't get the words out," Katniss whispers.

"I didn't expect anything else," I say.

Before we burnt the bread in our hearth and fed it to each other, Katniss and I repeated the traditional vows couples have been using for hundreds of years. Loving me openly in front of our family and friends to see was all the declaration I needed from her. 

"Peeta, I just-"

Because Katniss is so lovely, struggling over the things she wants to tell me, I can't help kissing her. It catches her off guard, drawing soft laughter from her chest. 

With her mouth open against mine, I insistently take the kiss deeper, cupping her jaw in my hands, claiming her. She whimpers, following me up from the floor, so we're both on our knees, our bodies flush, holding each other in front of our hearth.

Every time Katniss tries to pull away from me, I follow. My hands move to her hair, pulling out those little flowers interwoven in it. Then the pins holding her braids up. I've wanted to take her hair down all night. I'm going to make her give up this silly idea. I know she loves me. A speech isn't necessary right now.

"But I want to tell you-" Katniss protests, but she's breathing hard, the thin fabric of her wedding dress tightening over her chest. 

I need to see more of her.

"I have a better idea. Let me tell you all the ways I love you," I protest, unwinding Katniss's hair gently so as not to hurt her. 

"I love your softness," I begin, letting the silky strands of hair slide through my fingers. "I love your warmth," I whisper against her neck, making her shiver. My hands slide down her body and over her curves, covered by the silky dress.

Leaning into Katniss, I nudge her to lay down on the rug. 

Once she's beneath me, staring up, skin flush, eyes wide, teeth pressed into her lower lip, I crawl over her and begin working on the row of buttons running up the shoulders of her dress.

"I love your heart," I say, pushing the material down until it has bunched at her waist. I move down her body, kissing her neck and shoulders, my lips stopping above her heartbeat. I inhale deeply, drawing in the scent of skin, light perspiration, and lavender.

Katniss runs her hands through my hair as I push her camisole straps aside, submitting to my wants for now. It never takes much to persuade her.

"I love your heart," she whispers as I kiss the upper curve of her breast, the material of her camisole caught on her nipple. "Peeta..." he voice trails off into a gasp when I push the material to her waist and press kisses along her sternum. 

"What were you saying?" I tease, taking her nipple into my mouth. Her hips buck into me, and she tugs on my hair, taking my body from excitement to near combustion.

Impatiently, I sit up and pull her into a sitting position with me. "Please take this off," I ask, hands moving beneath the skirt of her dress and up her silky thighs. She shivers when my thumb brushes the edge of her panties.

Katniss raises her arms to pull the dress over her head. The sight of her with her back arched, ridding herself of the dress she wore tonight, gives me pause at the buttons of my shirt. My memory takes me back to earlier this evening, sitting in this very spot, in front of our friends and family, vowing to choose to love each other every day from here on out. It was a beautiful moment I'll carry with me for the rest of my life.

Before I knew Katniss, I used to dream of moments like now and then, unaware of how much better the reality of loving her would be than the fantasy I concocted. What we have is real. 

Katniss is in love with me, and I stopped her from saying the things she wants to say. I'm an idiot.

Now Katniss sits in front of me in nothing but her panties, looking like a goddess, the firelight making her skin glow. I can't wait to make love to her, but the urgency to get there dissipates.

"Come here," I say, patting the space between us on the rug in a less insistent tone. 

Katniss frowns.

"There was something you wanted to tell me, and I'm sorry I let my libido get in the way," I admit. The way I feel about her is so much more than physical. She should never doubt that.

Laughing, Katniss moves her hair over her shoulders, covering her breasts from my eyes. "Just so you don't get distracted again," she says.

"Like that will stop me," I run my fingertips down the inner curve of her arm, grazing the side of her breast. "Honestly, you're likely only going to get about five minutes of self-control from me, so you might want to get talking," I admit, voice husky.

The corner of her mouth turns up, gently amused. "I think I can get it all in."

Because I can't help myself, I lean over and kiss her again. "Last one, I swear. Go," I promise. 

She rolls her eyes, but I think it did the trick, relaxing her a bit and taking away some of the solemnity of the moment. 

"It's just. I want you to know that it's not that I don't want you to know what I feel for you. Sometimes the words refuse to come out. And tonight, I need to say them. I wanted everyone else to hear too, but, well. Better late than never."

Katniss pauses and lets out a sigh. I wish she would stop thinking I'm going to judge every word that leaves her mouth. 

"Whatever you want to tell me, I really want to hear," I say.

Katniss closes her eyes and licks her lips. "Before I knew you, love terrified me," she begins. "Love... it swallows you whole, you know. It takes all of you and offers no escape. Love consumes you."

"You make being in love sound like a bad thing," I say gently, tilting her chin up so she'll look at me.

Katniss shakes her head. "No, it's not a bad thing. It's the best thing. I never thought I'd need anyone, period. I worked hard to live my life in a way that meant I didn't need anyone else. The last thing I wanted was to need someone. But I do. I need you. Peeta, where ever you are, I'm home. Wherever you are, you're my heart. I love you so much that it used to terrify me."

"Now it doesn't scare you?" I ask, leaning towards her, brushing some hair off her forehead.

"Most of the time, it doesn't," she says.

"Nothing will happen to take me away from you. Nothing you could do would drive me away, love. I'm not going anywhere for a long, long time until we're both old and grey. In fact, you'll probably find you're tired of having me around by then," I say softly.

"There's more here," she touches her forehead, "and here," she adds, holding her hand over her heart. "It may take a while to get it all out."

"I'd love to hear everything you have to say. But can you do me a favor?"

Katniss smiles. "Anything."

"For now? Come kiss me."

Katniss's expression shifts, reminding me of the one she wears stalking her prey. She crawls across the floor toward me, and I decide that the look in her eyes is enough to kill me and then let me die a happy man as she straddles my lap. I shudder when she sits on my thighs and begins unbuttoning my shirt. 

"You're overdressed," she explains as I lean back and let her have her way. I love when she plays the aggressor.

Katniss distracts me with soft words and her lips on my skin as she undoes the buttons. Before I know it, she's pushing the shirt down my arms. She presses her breasts against my bare chest, and her breath tickles my neck when she murmurs, "take off your pants, Peeta."

She gasps when I sit up, surprising her, holding her against my body with one arm while I shimmy everything off my bottom half with the other hand. "So strong," she giggles. 

Instead of letting Katniss keep the upper hand, I lay her on the rug. Run my fingers down the front of her panties and over her sex. Through the material, I feel how wet and hot she is. She sighs contentedly when I move down her body on my hands and knees. 

Sitting up, I slip my fingers under the waistband of her panties and pull the last barrier between her and me off.

Katniss admitted to me once that she doesn't really like to be touched by most people. The way she goes wild when I use my hands or mouth and tongue on her body isn't lost on me. 

Her back arches beautifully, her neck stretched back, her mouth slack when I kiss her between her thighs. I like doing this to her almost as much as being inside her. Being so intimately close and making her feel good without returned gratification is a privilege, like a secret. There's a lot of satisfaction to be had out of making the woman you love fall apart under your mouth.

I make sure Katniss pants and squirms, calling my name before moving up her body again. She appears wanton, her dark hair spread out on the rug, luminous eyes, limbs slack after her release, pulling me down to lay between her legs. Soon, we're joined together, and it's bliss. 

__________________________

The spread of food before us is sumptuous, the tables piled high with glistening meats, frothy soups and delectable looking cakes. Purple banners drape elegantly from the ceiling, trimmed in gold and shining with the twinkling lights that have been threaded around them. The room is filled with lively music, and the constant chatter of conversation. All anyone wants to do is talk to us, while I want to do anything but. I’m not in the mood for conversation right now, and Katniss never is.

But of course, we’re here to put on a show. And right now, it’s more important than ever.

We smile, and talk, and weave our way through the crowded room with our arms tightly linked. I see Effie, her mouth stretched in a clownish smile as she speaks to the Mayor, likely conveying her displeasure in her earlier treatment. I spy Haymitch snatching a small, clear bottle from the beverage table, pocketing it for later. Both mine and Katniss’ prep teams are chatting away gaily, clearly loving being the centre of attention, even if it is just from little old District Eleven.

“How are you?” I mutter under my breath when we finally get a moment alone, and I see Katniss shrug out of the corner of my eye. Her shoulders are bare, her dress pale pink and strapless, her hair a tumble of ringlets cascading down her back. The expanse of exposed skin makes me want to trace my fingers along her delicate collarbone, even though I’m still angry at her, at Haymitch. Keeping me in the dark for so long, treating me like a child. Excluding me, from everything.

“As good as I can be, I suppose,” she eventually replies, turning to face me. “You?”

“I can’t really say I’m in the best of moods,” I reply honestly. “Hasn’t been a great day.”

She has the decency to grimace, then quickly replaces it with a false smile for those around us. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I realise now we should have-”

I cut her off with a firm shake of my head. “No more apologies, Katniss. Just remember to keep me in the loop next time, please. Then I won’t inadvertently risk someone else’s life.”

Katniss bites her lip. “You did the right thing out there today, Peeta. I…it was perfect, what you said. You have to know that.”

“Was it perfect, though? Really?” My tone is filled with disbelief. I remember when the thought first came to me, in the middle of writing my speech. Wondering how I could show the Capitol that I wasn’t just a piece in their Games, how I could use their Games to my own advantage, even in the smallest way possible. How I could repay the two people who had helped to keep Katniss alive in the Arena when I couldn’t. How I’d thought it was the perfect solution. “The outcome might not be great for Thresh’s sister, Rue’s parents. Wasn’t great for that old man.”

“Oh Peeta,” she murmurs. “Don’t blame yourself for him. That was - that was me. All me. That’s my fault.”

I go to correct her, to remind her that I was the one who started to go off script. But I can see the grief on her face and acknowledge that we’re both carrying our own worries from this afternoon. I might be hurting, but so is she. “Let’s not talk about this now,” I reply instead, reaching out and tucking an invisible piece of hair behind her ear. I feel her briefly lean into my hand as I do so, watch as her eyes flutter closed for a moment before I drop my hand away. “There’s nothing we can change about any of that. All we can do is make sure we get through tonight, and the next, and the next, and prove to President Snow that we’re madly in love. Right?” The words stick in my throat, because, really, what do I need to prove? There’s nothing I need to pretend about there.

“Right,” Katniss agrees softly. “But-” She pauses, glances towards Effie across the room, the poor Mayor still bailed up with her. “But we need to make sure your promise is kept.”

“We will. I’ll speak to Effie, she’ll know what to do.”

“Is it even legal, do you think?”

I look at her wryly. “You’re worried about doing things by the right side of the law now?” Katniss flushes, knowing as well as I do she’s been on the wrong side of following the Capitol’s rules for a long time. “Regardless, it doesn’t matter. If I know Effie, she’ll tell me something like You’re a Victor, and if a Victor can’t get what they want, who can?” I mimic Effie’s Capitol accent in the hope that I can tease a smile onto Katniss’s face, and it works. “Of course I’ll have to make sure she’s well over the Peacekeeper incident from earlier before I bring it up. Wouldn’t want to stress her out even more.”

Katniss purses her lips then, and we fall into silence. We watch the room revolve around us, the reality once again sinking in that everything we do, everything we say, impacts every single person in our lives. I grimly wonder what chain of events we've kicked off with what's happened today.

“Let’s dance,” I say suddenly, wanting to be rid of the conversation - and my thoughts - for the night, and draw her onto the small dance floor. Others immediately follow, as though they’ve simply been waiting for our lead, and soon the room is filled with couples twirling and spinning. We don’t twirl or spin though, instead dutifully following the steps Effie has so painstakingly drilled into us, Katniss’ hand on my shoulder, mine resting upon her waist. But the more we dance, the closer we draw into each other, until my entire arm is around her slim waist, and her head is upon my chest. Breathing in together, breathing out together. Comfort, in the only place we can find it in this room. Maybe in the only place we can find anywhere.

I close my eyes, and surrender to the fact that no matter what Katniss Everdeen does or doesn’t do, whatever she says or doesn’t say, I’ll never be able to let her go.

__________________________

We sit on the roof, lazily sipping on tart orange juice and munching on long, sugary twists of dough that Katniss keeps dipping in liquid chocolate. We stare up at the sky, and she points out a cloud that she insists looks just like the plant that is her namesake. I show her one that I say reminds me of Buttercup, but she vehemently disagrees. The cloud is far too pretty to look like that bag of bones, she tells me, and I laugh.

We’ve spent our day doing nothing of importance, possibly for the first time in our lives. No food to hunt, no bread to bake, no Arena to fight in. Zero responsibilities. Instead we’ve spent the hours playing silly games, weaving nets that we pretend to wear like Finnick, stuffing our faces with sweet Capitol treats that both of us know we’ll never get the chance to have again. It’s like our last stand, the last moments we’ll ever have before the end begins. 

I regret all the time that I’ve wasted, moments like these that I could have had with Katniss but will never get. The time I wasted by not speaking to her before we were reaped. The time I wasted by being so bitter after the Games, just because she did whatever she needed to do to live. The nights I wasted not wrapping her in my arms on the train because I was too angry, then upset, then miserable, about everything that happened in Eleven. The sessions where I pushed her to the edge while we were training for these Games, instead of trying to enjoy what little time we had left.

But there’s nothing I can do about any of that. I can only appreciate the time I have right now.

I twist my fingers in her hair, the strands silky and shiny and free from their usual braid. I attempt a lover’s knot with one of the long locks, then give up knowing I would have never lasted a day on a fishing boat in Four. Katniss weaves together flowers she plucked from the beds around us that are in full bloom, petals in shades of lilac and peach and vermillion. The sun is warm and the breeze is surprisingly gentle considering how high up we are. The windchimes dance, and block out the cacophony of the Capitol below us. Birds flying overhead call out musically, and I bet if they landed on the roof and Katniss sang to them, they’d stop to listen too. I pop a strawberry into my mouth, bite into its sweetness, and smile.

With a start, I realise that tomorrow we head into the deadliest place in the country, and yet I’ve never felt more sated, more at peace, more alive. Because no matter what tomorrow brings, today has been, quite literally, the most perfect day of my life.

My fingers still as that knowledge sinks in.

“What?”

I know Katniss isn’t going to like what I want to say, but I have to say it anyway. This type of opportunity will never come to me again - there will never be another moment where Katniss is lying in my arms, bathed in the afternoon sun, her face relaxed and unworried. It’s how she should always be; she should never have to worry, should be able to live her life without the fear of the Games. But for her to be able to have that, it means I cannot. Which reiterates the absolute necessity of what I need to say next, and I hope against hope that she’s okay with it.

“I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” I murmur, my heart thundering in my chest, and I wait for her to push away, to put up the wall I’m so used to her putting up whenever I say anything that makes her feel uncomfortable. But she doesn’t. In fact, she doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even stiffen. She doesn’t look at me, just continues to twist the flowers together, creating herself a crown. And then she simply says 

"Okay."

__________________________

My hand shakes slightly as I carefully lower the silver backed card onto its final resting place, covering a hole the size of my thumb. A jittery finger, the slightest shudder of breath; anything could tumble the house of cards in front of me, laying waste to what is possibly hours of work.

Hours? Maybe even days. Who knows?

After a few nervous heartbeats, it’s clear that the structure is going to hold, and I slide back in my seat with relief, settling into its plush cushioning. The tension in my body - held there while I'd painstakingly modelled my prison with pack upon pack of silver and gold playing cards - slowly releases, and I feel my shoulders slump, feel the ache flood into my arms from the constant building, placing, constructing that I've been focusing on. With the strain finally gone, a wave of exhaustion washes over me and I close my eyes for relief, but I immediately wish I hadn't. Because against the dark I see the sky explode, see Katniss thrown to the ground, see the world around me crumble.

I've lost count how many days it's been since everything happened, can't even tell if it's morning or night with the windowless quarters I'm being kept in. I sleep when I'm tired, I build another house when I'm not. The meals I'm delivered - the Avox who silently delivers it the only soul I've seen since my interview with Caesar - provides no discernable mealtime association. No warmed grains for breakfast, no sandwich for lunch. Just Katniss's favourite lamb stew over and over and over again.  If Snow's intention is to slowly drive me insane by making my days a never ending cycle of sameness, he's well on his way to succeeding.

I’d expected torture, I’d expected a bullet to the head. Instead, I got a full body polish and a life of monotony. I have nothing but time on my hands, nothing but hours to build and try not to constantly worry, to not let my brain go where it always wants to go.

Katniss.

It's the longest I've ever gone without seeing her, and it feels strange, like something is missing, like part of me is gone. Even when we didn't talk between Games I still saw her every day - in the square, in her garden with Prim, reluctantly tending to Haymitch's liquor needs, sneaking away to the Meadow. It feels like my days and years have been measured by Katniss, and without her, I'm at a loss.

I worry about how she is, where she is, who she’s with. They tell me she's in Thirteen, but I still can't comprehend that it even exists anymore, let alone that she's there. They tell me they extracted her, and Finnick, and a handful of others. Rebels inside the Capitol, they say, rebels in the Districts - Haymitch being one of them.

I still can't correlate my drunken mentor with a rebel planning to overthrow the country, but everything they're telling me and showing to me points to it as being the truth. Except for Katniss. I can't believe for a second that she'd be a part of any rebel plot, not if it meant endangering Prim in any way. Being thousands of miles away from her sister while plans to overthrow the country were rolled out into play?

No, not in a million years. I stand by every single rebuttal I shouted at Caesar.

The knock on the door pulls me out of my reverie; I open my eyes and don't even have the chance to give a cursory 'come in' before the two Peacekeepers are already barging through the heavy doors. One roughly gestures to me to stand, his mouth curling with a snarl.

"On your feet, Mr Mellark," he demands. "It's time to go."

I look down at my nails, bitten to the quick over my nervous house building. "To see the Prep Team? I'll probably need it if I'm meeting with Caesar again." I hold up my hand to show the damage, hoping for a bit of levity, but neither crack a smile.

"It's not another interview, Mr Mellark," the second Peacekeeper replies. "You're not seeing Mr Flickerman today."

His tone makes my stomach drop, and I swallow heavily, lowering my hand back to my lap. "President Snow, then?" I still haven't seen him, and realise I've been anticipating this from the moment I was brought from the Arena.

"No more questions," the first says curtly, then steps forward and bats my knee with his gun. Not gently either; if it was still flesh and bone, I’d probably end up with a bruise tomorrow. "We're going to your new quarters."

New quarters? I look around the sparsely furnished room, likely the least opulent room in the mansion. No windows. A simple bed that my mother would clip me over the ear for not being made. A single table and chair. Something tells me it's not going to be an upgrade.

It's now that the fear starts to spread through me, but I try not to let it show as I rise and fall in line between them. I've felt plenty of fear over the last few years - telling the entire country on national television that I was in love with Katniss, being dumped into two Arenas knowing there was little chance I was coming out, the realisation that I might have caused more harm than good with my promise to Rue and Thresh's families. It's nothing new. But this is different.

The blindfold slips over my eyes, and I dutifully go wherever they're leading me. The walk feels endless. Hallway upon hallway, a twisting maze of corners until we stop, and I hear the faint swish of electronic doors sliding open and closed. The ground beneath me begins to drop, and I wonder how far down this elevator goes. It's deep; all I know is that my ears have long popped by the time we stop.

The doors open again and the Peacekeepers push me through them, ripping off the blindfold as I stumble forward. I blink to adjust to the bright lights, and I wish I had the blindfold back on.

White walls. White floors. White bars. All white, everywhere white.

Except for the people.

They stand out in stark contrast to their surroundings, some I know, some I don’t. My eyes are drawn to them involuntarily as the Peacekeepers march me down the aisle between the row of cells, my heart dropping the further we go along. A man in a long jacket that would be the height of fashion in the Capitol were it not for the smears of harsh red and sickly yellow that can only be blood and bile. A Victor from long ago whose name escapes me, but their broken limb doesn’t. The red-headed Avoxes who were assigned to us during our stay in the training centre, the girl whose name I still don’t know and Darius, whose bruised face reminds me of the risk he took to save Gale. Annie, the mad girl from Four who Finnick loves huddled in a corner, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes vacant. Johanna, her head shaven to an uneven stubble, her shoulder oozing blood from a nasty wound. Her eyes meet mine, and while they're full of disgust, they're also tinged with fear. Fear, from a woman who had the guts to shout out against Snow in front of the entire country. 

“In here,” Peacekeeper One suddenly tells me, gesturing to the open cell door beside Johanna’s. I step inside the empty room, hear the clank of metal as the door slides closed behind me. I don’t turn around to watch them go.

It’s quiet, quiet enough for me to hear the stomp of their boots as they walk away, the sound of the elevator doors opening and sliding shut again. It’s only once they’ve left that I hear the occasional shuffle, a slight moan, the cry of someone obviously in pain. My throat constricts as my new reality sinks in, and I know that my days of building card houses are over. The only thing that I’m grateful for right now is that Katniss isn’t in one of these cells. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it if I'd seen her broken body in one of them as I’d passed.

“Figured you were dead.”

The words filter through to my cell, and even though I can’t see their owner, I’d recognise Johanna’s blunt tone anywhere. I go over to the wall that separates us, slide down so I’m sitting with my back against it and draw my knees up to my chest.

“Not yet.”

Johanna snorts. “Might be better if you were.” She coughs, and it’s chesty and full of phlegm. "Where's Katniss?"

"You don't know?"

"They're not very forthcoming on details down here," she replies wryly. "A fair bit of taking, not a lot of giving."

I reach out a finger, draw patterns on the floor like I drew on the morphling before she died. "Apparently she's in Thirteen." 

"Huh." She's quiet for another moment. "Is Finnick with her?"

Her response makes me realise that while she may not have known where Katniss was, she still knows more than me. The mention of Thirteen hadn't shocked her one bit. "Yes. And Beetee, apparently."

She snorts. "Good old Volts gets picked up, but I get left behind. Figures."

"You knew about it," I say, and try not to let my feelings cloud my tone, especially after seeing what they've done to her. But I can't help it. There's a bit of anger in there, a dash of betrayal, a side of accusation. How long is the list of those who knew?

"Some," she admits, and I wait for her to finish, but she clearly doesn’t want to tell me any more. That, or she knows someone else is listening. Probably the latter.

Our silence is loaded with questions that will never be asked, never be answered, and it's another few minutes before Johanna speaks again. “Well I hope you enjoyed whatever stay of execution you had prior to joining us, Peeta, because welcome to your new Arena.” She cackles maniacally, until it gradually peters out into a sob. “You’re gonna hate it.”

_____________________________

The lights beating down on me are hot, and sweat pops out on my lower lip, along my hairline. I feel sticky and sweaty in my suit, and the bruises underneath ache from the stiffness of the material pressing against them. My foot taps an erratic and unsteady beat along the footrest of my stool. A Capitol attendant carefully blots at my face again, their face blank but their eyes saying more than I need to know.

I’m definitely not camera ready.

The days have not been kind to me. My cell mates have grown fewer, my ‘sessions’, as they so kindly call them, have increased. Some I remember, some I don’t. Some I come out of feeling like I’ve been sent to hell and back, others I feel nothing but emptiness. Sometimes, when they’re over, a darkness slowly creeps over me, and I beat my clenched fists against a wall that will never beat me back. Johanna tries to talk to me, but most times all I ever do is hear her scream. 

I don’t even know if Annie is alive anymore.

The attendant gives my cheek a final sweep of blush and steps away, leaving me alone under the studio lights. There are people out behind the lights where it’s dark, but I can’t see them, can only hear the hurried instructions called out in their affected accents. The only person I can see is President Snow as he crosses the room towards me, confident and steady, his signature white rose adorning his lapel.

“Mr Mellark, how lovely to see you,” he greets, as though we’re old friends. I suppose we are; we’ve seen a lot of each other recently. Much more than we ever had when Katniss was around.

“President Snow,” I reply stiffly. There’s really no other way for me to speak. Every breath is an effort, every word feels like it could be my undoing. The pain in my body, in my mind, makes everything feel like it’s too much to handle.

Snow tuts disapprovingly, his hands held in front of him as if in supplication. “Oh Mr Mellark, I do hope you’ll be able to perform better than that for our little broadcast. I would hate to have to…expand on our sessions.”

I swallow heavily and think of everything I’ve witnessed, everything I’ve heard, everything I’ve felt. What more can they do to me? I’m not sure I want to find out. “Of course,” I reply, forcing myself to sit up straighter. I’d put a smile on my face, but I don’t think it’s going to help.

“Good. And you understand the assignment?”

I nod. “I just have to read from the teleprompter. No ad-libbing. Just the script.”

“Correct. I wouldn’t want you to say anything that hasn’t already been prepared for you. It didn’t end so well on a previous occasion,” he says, and walks away without another word. I swallow heavily, remembering the last time when I added my own inclusion to a speech. What happened afterwards.

I grip my hands together to steady them as I watch a technician deftly mic up President Snow. It’s a smooth operation, something they’ve all clearly done a thousand times before. A countdown starts, the Capitol anthem plays, and then President Snow greets the country, a condescending smile on his puffy lips. I’m not really listening to what he says, but eventually I hear him mention my name, suggesting to the audience that I have something to share.

So I do.

I read the words streaming across the prompter, my tone agitated and frustrated as I narrate the acts of war playing out across the country. I don’t know if this is the performance that Snow is looking for, but it’s all he’s going to get from me right now. I gesture to the images that flash across the map of Panem projected beside me, the words seeming to grow with importance and clarity the more I read them aloud. The rebels…the rebels…the rebels…

And then suddenly I can no longer see myself on the monitor.

It’s Katniss. In front of the bakery.

My bakery.

A shell, nothing but the misshapen remains of our oven left behind.

Where is the bakery? Where is my family?!

Katniss?

The monitor flickers, and I'm back again; I can see the confusion on my own face. Did I imagine that? Was it real? I look around blindly, but I can’t even see President Snow anymore, just white dots dancing in front of my eyes.

And Katniss. Katniss.

I don’t know what else to do, so I keep speaking, picking up the speech where I left off. I’m tumbling over my words, not eloquent in the slightest, but I stop mid-sentence when the District Thirteen symbol flashes up on the screen, and then suddenly there’s Finnick, talking about Rue. He looks broken, nothing like the confident man who strutted around the Capitol in an outfit made of nothing but rope and - 

BAM!

I’m back again. And then I’m not, and then I am, and I simply give up on speaking, watching dumbfounded as the Capitol technicians fight to control whatever is happening to their broadcast. Katniss, Finnick, Rue. The bakery. Thirteen is doing something. I don’t know what, I don’t know how. But I do know one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt. Katniss is with them. 

And I am not.

Whatever the technicians do finally manages to stop the broadcast fighting, and the Capitol seal is displayed on the monitor while demands continue to be yelled from the control booth. The screen flickers, and suddenly our set appears again. I can see my wild eyes staring back at me, Snow attempting to speak over the chaos as he informs the Capitol that we will resume when we have security under control. And then he asks me, after the demonstration that I just witnessed from the unrepentant rebels, if I have anything to say to Katniss Everdeen.

I feel my chest constrict, feel my mouth twist in frustration. Without the teleprompter, I don’t know what Snow wants me to say. I don’t even know what I want to say. Is she with me? Is she against me? Is she my friend? Is she my enemy?

I don’t know.

Eventually, the words burst forth, spewing out in a rush. “Katniss…how do you think this will end?” I barely understand what I'm saying, only that I have to get the words out before my head explodes. It’s pulsing, pulsing, pulsing, and I struggle to breathe. My thoughts whirl and battle with each other, snapping and snarling like the mutts from the first Arena. I only have one that's coherent, a conversation I’d heard when the Peacekeepers were done after a session, and they’d assumed I was unconscious. I push through, knowing that this is my last chance, my only chance, to say it. "And you…in Thirteen…” Do it, Peeta, do it! “Dead by morning!" 

It's chaos. Snow rises to his feet, his face the very picture of fury. People are running, barking orders.  Cameras tumble to the ground while I rise to my feet and continue to yell. Scream. Can anybody hear me?!

I feel the crack against my head and I cry out, tumbling forwards onto the ground. My prosthetic leg twists up awkwardly beneath me, and the pain it causes in my thigh fights with the burning in my skull. My fingers slip wetly on the red streaked tiles and I realise with horror that it’s my own blood.

The whistling sound of a Peacekeepers baton swings through the air, closer and closer until - 

_____________________________

“Good luck, Soldier Mellark. Make me proud.”

The words echo in my ears long after I’ve left Thirteen, over and over again. Make me proud. Make me proud. Make me proud. I know only one thing that will make her proud.

Kill Katniss Everdeen.

Oh, President Coin will never admit it, but I know that’s what she wants. I know, because like recognizes like. I know, because I know how much I want to. How much I need to. To feel the warmth leech from her skin as my fingers tighten, tighten, tighten around her throat. The delicate, olive skin of her throat…of her shoulders…of her hands…encased in mine. Gripped together. Holding on for dear life. Her lips on mine, her tongue tangled with mine. My heart beating wildly with the love that it’s filled with, for her.

Love?

I close my eyes and clench my fists tightly, press against the metal encircling my wrists until it breaks the skin. Focus on the sound of the train as it runs along the tracks, the steady bom-bom-bom-bom of the turning wheels. Trying to pull myself to where I need to be, not to this stupid place the head doctors in Thirteen insist on attempting to get me back to. The place where Katniss is my friend. The person I love. 

Hate.

They keep trying to tell me she isn’t evil, she isn’t my enemy, but nothing they ever tell me makes sense. Delly tells me things that don’t match the images in my head. Footage is replayed over and over again, and jars with my memories. Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbour. Hunter. Tribute. The words jumble in my head until nothing seems straight and I have to fight my way back to where I want to be, to where I feel triumphant, free.

Standing over her dead mutt body.

I stare out the small window and feel the rage flood through me again; I welcome it like one would an old lover. I watch as the crops of Eleven come into view, the orchards in the far distance. Remember the last time I travelled through here, a lifetime ago, when we all got people killed just because we lived. Because of what we said, what we did, who we trusted.

We won’t all live any more. No, not when I finally get to Two, and join Plutarch’s precious Star Squad.

I’m not going to kill her because it will make President Coin proud; I couldn’t care less about her. I’m going to do it because I want to. Because I have to. Because I need to.

I need you.

_____________________________

“Don’t do anything foolish.”

I lift my head and look into her grey eyes in the dim light. My fingers rub along my wrists, unused to feeling them unshackled. 

“No,” I tell her when it’s clear she needs an answer. “It’s last resort stuff. Completely.”

Katniss pauses, then leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck. I don’t know what to do at first, the feeling of her wrapped around me tied up in a million different complicated emotions. But then I reciprocate and bring my own around her waist, the familiarity to our embrace almost welcoming. I close my eyes and breathe her in, finding that the brutal urges I’ve become accustomed to have made way for something else. Something I used to know. Something sweeter, hungrier.

“All right, then,” she finally says, and pulls away. I feel cold and hot all at the same time at the loss of her, and there’s something on the tip of my tongue that I want to say, but I don’t know what it is. Instead, I remain mute and simply watch as she steals out the door, Gale at her heels.

A few minutes later Tigris sends me on my way with a gentle pat on the cheek, as though she feels sorry for me.

At first I’m cautious not to get too close to Katniss and Gale as we make our way down the alley and onto the avenue with the Capitol refugees, but it’s almost impossible to keep track of them around the fighting breaking out, the pods activating, the people dying. Hysteria is rife, eyes are looking around wildly in fear, and I secure my scarf back over my nose and mouth as tight as I can. Every so often I see a flash of Katniss’ red cloak and it helps me to reset, to remind myself of what I’m doing, where I’m going. What I’ve promised to do if it looks like they’re going to get caught.

But it’s chaotic, and it’s obvious that any plan we may have had is pointless now. Shopfronts around me shatter and people fall to the ground, I have to crawl my way across pavements slick with blood. Screams drown out every other sound as a new pod detonates. I look into eyes that are staring, lifeless, and feel the pressure inside me building and building and building, and I bite my lip until my mouth fills with copper and salt. The pain brings me back.

When the road ahead of me cracks open, swallowing people into its depths, I stare in horror and wonder if Katniss has gone down with them. I press myself against the wall of a perfumery, its sweet scents warring with the putrid stench wafting from the street, and scan ahead, frantically trying to see her. Instead I see Gale, barely clinging to some decorative ironwork, his feet kicking out into space. And then - and then I see her. Katniss, dragging herself up over the far edge of the abyss. Alive. But far away and completely inaccessible to me.

I have no choice but to double back to an alleyway I’d noticed earlier; it connects to a cross street where I’m able to blend into yet another crowd. Whether it’s luck or simple Capitol snobbery, no one pays any attention to the limping stranger swaddled in a purple fedora and pale gray coat. 

The screams go on and gunfire pops as the rebels continue to break through. Every shot I hear takes me back to that day in Eleven, and the bullet in the old man’s head. Would we still have ended up here if I hadn't made that pledge in honour of Rue and Thresh, when I helped to fan flames I didn’t even know were being tended?

I shake my head and pull my coat tighter around me. There’s no point in wondering.

Eventually, I stumble into the City Circle behind a family huddled together, their lime green coats the same stricken shade as their terrified faces. It’s a mass of bodies, bracketed by President Snow's mansion on the right and the avenue's grand dame edifices to my left. Giant barricades before the mansion are a dam holding a lake of children.

The ultimate in defence, I think in disgust.

I suddenly catch sight of Katniss hoisting herself up a flagpole ahead of me, the hood of her cloak falling back across her shoulders. She surveys everything around her, her eyes scanning the crowd. And then she looks up in surprise, and I follow her line of sight.

It’s a hovercraft.

Everything about it looks as it should; the gleaming paint, the Capitol seal, the shiny silver parachutes that start to fall from its belly. But it doesn’t feel right, nothing about it feels right. My gut is warning me, telling me that something is wrong. President Snow is evil. He is sadistic. He uses his own Capitol children as a shield. But this…this does not feel right. If he had a hovercraft at his disposal, he’d have already been on it, away to whatever secret bunker he would have built for himself long ago. He wouldn’t be offering gifts to his citizens with no strings attached.

I sprint forward, leap over a raised flower bed, ram a fist into the face of a Peacekeeper who shows a hint of recognition when he sees me. I have one focus, and one focus only, and that’s to get Katniss away from whatever this is. I keep running, and I’m almost there when everything explodes.

I stumble back, and in my head I see the Arena raining down upon me. In reality, it’s blood and gore and bone, and I have to stop myself from throwing up. I need to get to Katniss.

People have pushed towards the barricaded area, making my path to Katniss all the easier. I’m so intent on her that it takes me a moment to realise who else I see, the other braid that streaks past me right into the horrors.

Prim.

Her hand clutches a medical kit, her medic jacket still slightly too big for her petite frame. I open my mouth to call out to her, but I’m too winded from running, and she’s too far away now for her to hear me. She’s just gone past Katniss anyway, is kneeling down to help someone, and Katniss will call out to her and-

She doesn’t.

Even from here, I can see small, shivering hands still clutching onto the precious parachutes that didn't explode before. Can practically see the moment they light up, shattering into a million fiery pieces.

Taking Prim with them.

My heart stops, my brain shuts down. Flames steal across my forehead, but I barely feel them. Prim is dead.

Prim is dead.

Finnick is dead. Mitchell is dead. Boggs is dead. Mags is dead. Rue is dead. My family is dead. Everybody is dead.

No. Katniss isn’t.

I run towards the flagpole, shoving others out of my path in my haste to get to her. She’s waving her arms around wildly in an attempt to put out the flames that billow around her, but it does nothing but enrage them. I don’t even think when I finally reach her side - I push her to the ground, roll her over the snow until the flames engulfing her back finally dissipate. The coat she wears feels like a furnace, and I try to pull it off her, tearing the black lining. The delicate fabric burns my fingers and palms even more, but I keep going, tugging and tugging until she’s free of it, and I toss it aside. I draw in a deep breath, but immediately start to cough; the smoke and flames around us are too strong, too out of control, and we can’t stay here. 

Prim is gone. I don’t know where Gale is, or Cressida, or Pollux. It’s only me and Katniss. And the only thing I’ve ever wanted is for her to live.

It’s the surest thing I’ve ever known.

I position my arms underneath her back to lift her up, my prosthetic buckling as I straighten. I look around, no idea where to go other than as far away from the mansion and the City Circle as possible. So I move, and keep moving, further and further away, around the sobs, cries, moans, screams. I chance a look down at Katniss’ face - it’s contorted in pain, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth twisted in a grimace. The only word that crosses her lips is Prim, and each time she says it, it’s accompanied by a guttural moan. 

The exposed skin I can see on her is a mess, and she emanates a heat that is painful where she rests against my own injured arms. I don’t even want to imagine what her back looks like, what damage has been done to her. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on literal fire.

I finally reach a point where I can’t take it anymore, and slump to the ground beside a building with a brightly coloured sign that proudly proclaims that it’s Winter Sale Time! I cradle Katniss against me, staring dumbly at the damage I can still see in the City Circle, even from here. Broken bodies, scarlet covered snow, wailing parents. Rebels wandering around in shock, Peacekeepers not knowing what the hell to do.

All the fighting to overthrow the Capitol. All the battles in the Arena. All the appearances to appease a President who was never going to be appeased. After all of that, this is what it’s come down to. Even more innocent children lost because of a Game that should never have been played.

I look down at Katniss again, feel the warring in my head begin. I don’t have the pain of cuffs around my wrist to tether me to, so I say the only thing that makes sense to me right now.

I whisper to her that she needs to stay with me.

_____________________________

The air wafting through the open bedroom window is sweet and carries the promise of a warm day ahead. I inhale deeply, enjoying the scent; spring is here, and there’s something about this season that’s always made it a favourite of mine. I know it’s Katniss’ as well - she told me once with a melancholy smile on her face, though she never explained why.

I rise from the bed, twitch the curtain slightly to look across at her house. The windows are closed, but the chimney is smoking, meaning Sae has already beaten me there. My stomach grumbles at the thought of bacon, and I hope I haven’t missed breakfast. It’s become part of our routine since I finally returned from the Capitol - sharing breakfast in the morning, spending time tending the overgrown gardens of all the Village houses, working on the memory book that Katniss has started. There are days where Katniss goes into the woods alone, or I take long walks around the edge of town furthest from the bakery when I know I need to be on my own, but for the most part we spend our days together.

If anyone had told me this when I first arrived in Thirteen, I would have laughed. Then tried to kill them.

I’ve come a long way.

I grab the pants I flung across the foot of the bed the night before and slip them on, snag a soft blue t-shirt from the bureau drawer. I jog downstairs, grab the freshest loaf of bread from the bread bin and jam my feet into shoes that I know were hand-picked by Portia, acknowledging the pang the thought of her brings. There really isn’t much in my life that doesn’t remind me of someone or something I’ve lost; it’s something I’m still learning to live with. But Dr Aurelius tells me I can’t ignore it, or things will never get better. And I really, really want things to get better.

I head outside and cross the expanse between our homes, letting myself in without knocking. I follow the scent of food through to the kitchen, pleased to see the high pile of bacon beside a platter of eggs on the table. 

“Morning,” I greet, sending a small smile to Sae and her granddaughter Sadie, before glancing across to Katniss in the rocking chair. It’s still her preferred spot, and she’s sitting in it silently, biting into a piece of bacon. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s nothing out of the norm.

“You’re late,” Sae admonishes, but it’s said with no heat, more playful than serious. 

“I slept well,” I say simply, and she just nods, knowing as well as I do that those nights are rare. I drop the loaf on an empty plate, picking up the knife I know was left there for me for this very purpose. Another piece of evidence for my progress - a knife, in the same room as Katniss, with not a single inclination to kill.

No, the feeling of wanting to kill Katniss is long gone.

The bread is sliced thickly, shared out between the four of us as we pile our plates high with food. Sae offers a little conversation, Sadie sings a tune that I vaguely remember from my childhood. Buttercup hisses and whines until someone slips him some bacon. Katniss remains silent, and I wonder if today is going to be one of the days she leaves me for the woods.

Eventually, the front door shuts behind Sae and Sadie, and I turn to Katniss questioningly.

“You okay?” I ask quietly. She nods.

“Yeah,” she finally says. “I had a dream last night.”

“Oh.” This, I understand.

“No, it was a good dream,” she tells me. She shifts uncomfortably in the chair, and I suddenly realise her feet are bare but for a thin pair of socks. No boots. No boots means no woods. This is good. “I…I dreamt of Prim, and Rue. And it was…it was nice.”

Nice dreams are a rarity for me, almost unknown for Katniss. “Do you want to tell me about it?” 

Katniss licks her lips, glances down at the hands folded in her lap. “I don’t think so. But I think…I think I’d like to draw Rue today. Is that okay?”

I stand and cross to her, then crouch in front of her chair and wait until she catches my eye before I speak. “Of course it’s okay. Whatever you want.”

We set up in the front parlour, where the light is best in the mornings. The low slung coffee table is our work space, side by side with our legs crossed. I sketch on loose pieces of paper, Katniss ruminates on what she wants to write. It’s not our first entry about Rue, and it likely won’t be our last.

We settle on Katniss’ memory of Rue sharing her love of singing. I begin to draw her sitting in the Arena woods, light dappling across her face and a slight smile on her lips, and I think of the siblings she left behind, the ones who stared at us so solemnly on the Victory Tour. The ones who’ll never get to hear Rue sing again. I test out a dozen different shades of green before I land on the right ones for the leaves, and take far too long trying to get a curl of her hair the way I want it to fall. It’s when I’m halfway through that another memory jags at me, and I drop my pencil like it's on fire. I can feel the panic rising in my chest and fight to steady my breathing, fight to tamp down the multitude of feelings that threaten to overwhelm me. My head pounds, behind my eyes, behind my ears, at the base of my neck. I push away from the table, my fingers digging frantically into the loomed wool of the rug beneath me.

“Peeta? Are you alright?” I can vaguely hear Katniss over the roaring in my ears, and I stare at her blankly, willing it all to go away, go away, go away, GO AWAY. Then her hand rests tentatively on mine, and slowly everything recedes, until I’m hollow, spent, and all I can feel is her touch.

“Sorry,” I mutter when I finally feel settled. I pull myself to my feet and drag my hands over my eyes. "I'm alright. I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" I nod and place my hands on my hips, drawing in a deep breath. "What was it?"

It takes me a few minutes to muster up the courage to speak. "They just…in the Capitol. When they used the venom…” I trail off, trying to align my thoughts. “They used it while showing me footage of you and Rue. When she died. The memories are shiny. And they’re, um…they’re not very favourable to you.”

“Oh.” Katniss' eyebrows draw together in concern, and I can see the worry at what they might have shown me. What conversations we might have to have later. “We don’t have to draw her, Peeta, not if it’s going to affect you like this.” 

I wonder why this has never surfaced before now, even though we've talked about Rue plenty of times. Why this twisted ‘memory’ has decided to claw its way free today, when the morning has been such a good one. Why my brain works the way it does these days, flipping between normal and madness at the flick of an invisible switch.

"It's okay. I just…I just don't like being around you when I'm like this. You shouldn't have to see me like this. I should go."

Katniss shakes her head and rises to her feet, reaches out to touch my hand again. I allow it, and our fingers tangle together tightly.  It took us a long time to feel comfortable with each other’s touch again, before a hand would reach out and be welcomed, an embrace easily returned. Now Katniss is the only person who can make me feel anchored when everything feels like it’s turning upside down. The only one who can reach me, who can help me to hang on, who can help to bring me back.

"Peeta, you know you don't need to hide from me."

I look down at her sadly. "What if I hurt you? You don’t know what these other…parts of me are capable of."

"You won't hurt me," she says firmly. "And I know you, all of you. Every part of you is Peeta. I know you won’t hurt me.”

Her words undo me, and I lower my head until my forehead rests against hers. Our eyes bore into each other, unblinking. Every day I wish… I hope…I wonder. If she feels the way I do, the way I always have, the way Snow could never take away from me. And after what she’s just said…right now I have to do more than just wish and hope and wonder. I need to know.

I reach up, gently brush the back of my fingers across her cheek. I can hear her breath hitch, feel my own heart thud. But it doesn’t thud like it did only moments ago; it thuds in a good way, and the feeling spreads out into my stomach, out to my limbs, to the tips of my toes. I turn my hand over and cup her cheek with my palm, then dip my head slightly as I feel her hand gently rest on my chest.

The thud turns into a frantic drumbeat, and I don’t waste another second. My lips find hers, and hers find mine, and it feels so good, so damn good, that I never want it to end. It’s gentle and searching, and it’s a promise of things to come. 

Eventually, we pull away, and we smile at each other shyly, as though we’ve never kissed before. We both look down at the unfinished entry on the coffee table, and with unspoken agreement, lower back to our positions, cross-legged, side by side. I finish my sketch, Katniss closes out the accompanying text. And when we’re finally done, she closes the book and turns to me.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asks hesitantly. I watch as her gaze flits, ever so briefly, to my lips, and my heart soars. “It won’t be much, probably just some leftover venison, some greens-”

“I’d love to,” I tell her. “I can bake us some cheese buns to go with it.” 

The delight is clear in her eyes. “Deal.”

And with that, we have a new addition to our daily routine.

__________________________

Today our kisses are lazy and sweet, our movements slow and languid. Sometimes we’re frantic in our need for each other, limbs tangled, hands gripping forcefully, with no time for finesse.  Other times we’re as gentle as a whisper, as though we’re worried that if we go too hard we’ll break before we reach our peak. But this is our middle ground, where we’re almost playful, where a laugh could just as easily be followed by a moan as it could a whimper. Where we’re not afraid to try something new, exploring each other in all the ways I never dreamed we’d get to.

After, Katniss lies in my arms, her naked skin bathed in the afternoon sun. A strand of her hair tickles my cheek, but I don’t move to brush it aside. In all honesty, I could lie here forever - the woods are my favourite place to make love to Katniss, any inhibitions that she might still have disappearing beneath the broad limbs, the rustling leaves and the gentle lap of the lake nearby the only sounds other than the ones we make ourselves. But the sun will set soon, and making my way through the woods back home in the dark with my leg is not ideal.

We dress slowly and leave the lake, our feet crunching over the golden leaves of fall. We walk back through the centre of town, our hands linked, and say hello to Thom and Delly outside their store, wave to Dalton as he passes us on his way home to his farm on the outskirts of town. We reach the edge of Victor’s Village, and laugh as we settle in on the steps of our front porch, watch as Haymitch runs after a goose that’s gotten loose from his garden.

“Laugh all you want,” he grunts loudly once he has the goose back in his arms, before none too gently dumping it on the other side of his front fence. “I’ll laugh at the two of you when you’re chasing your own two legged thing around a yard.” He comes over to us, jerks his head towards Katniss’ gently swelling belly. Katniss blushes, the faintest flush creeping across her cheeks.

“I’m sure you will, Grandpa,” I reply with a smirk, and he grimaces. I know it’s all for show; for all his crotchety and rude ways, I know he’s just as amazed and excited and terrified as Katniss and I are for the change that’s coming our way.

“You heard the news?” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the disgusting beef jerky he’s taken to munching on as an alternative to drinking 24/7. Katniss and I look at each other, shake our heads. “Eleven has a new District representative to the President.”

“Oh?” Katniss’ response is wary, and her fingers tighten around mine. 

Haymitch’s voice is soft when he responds, as gentle as his gravelly tone will ever allow. “Rue’s sister,” he tells us, and pauses a moment to gauge our reaction before continuing. “Heard her interview on the radio. Said she’d been inspired to represent their District because of the courage of her big sister. That she’d been given a gift, long ago, and had been able to get a better education because of it. Wanted to use it so she could keep making their District a better place to live. She’s young, but young blood can be a positive thing.” He reaches over and touches Katniss briefly on the shoulder, gives me an approving nod. “You kids always remember you did good, okay?” He clears his throat of all the sentimentality, then walks back to his house. He turns at his front door, tossing a final comment out over his shoulder before going inside. “Oh, and I’ll be back for dinner. Make sure it’s none of that meatloaf shit.”

We’re quiet for a few moments before Katniss tips her head to rest on my shoulder. “Things are good, aren’t they?” she finally says, and I smile gently, even though I know she can’t see my face. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her even closer. We both know that it’s not always going to be like this, that not every day is going to be easy. But she’s right - right now, things are good. We are free to live as we want. We’re growing our own family. And a young woman from a poor fruit farming family is representing a District to a beloved President, something that would have been laughable 15 years ago.

I realise with perfect clarity that the impacts of our actions - mine, Katniss’, Haymitch’s, Rue’s, countless others - will be endless. But so, too, will the opportunities.

On the fourth morning of Squad 451’s mission, Soldier Leeg 2 hits a mislabeled pod. It doesn’t unleash a swarm of muttation gnats, which the rebels are prepared for, but shoots out a sunburst of metal darts. One finds her brain, and in the instant it pierces her skull, Katniss swears she hears a cannon fire. Instinctively, she looks to Finnick who is also staring with wide eyes.

The following evening, Boggs gets the call. “Everdeen, Odair, pack your things,” he says. “You’re heading out on the next train.”

“Train to where?” Katniss says. They’re already at the last station.

“Back to Thirteen,” Boggs says. 

“What about the mission? We’re not even close to the mansion yet!” Finnick demands.

“Squad 451 has been dissolved. Everyone else is being reassigned,” Boggs says. “The pod mishap with Soldier Leeg has Plutarch a little shaken. They want the Mockingjay home.”

Katniss shoulders her weapon defiantly. “I’m not leaving. They need me here.” It’s a lie, of course, she’s hardly been allowed to fire her weapon since she’s arrived. But she can’t leave now, not when she’s so close. “That was the deal,” she says. “I kill Snow. You call Coin back and remind her of that!”

“I’m not going to change her mind,” he says, sounding tired.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s take a walk,” he says.

Katniss falls in step with Boggs and they weave around the encampment, outside the earshot of the others.

“You’re a wildcard,” he tells her. “You’re too unpredictable, and as this war comes to an end, you become a bigger and bigger threat to her.”

“I’m not vying for the presidency, if that’s what she’s worried about,” Katniss deadpans.

“True, but there will be a lot of people waiting for your endorsement. It’ll carry a lot of weight, especially if you’re a respected war hero.”

“How can I be a war hero, when they won’t even let me sniff the front lines?”

Boggs stops and gives Katniss a knowing look. “She doesn’t trust that you won’t sneak off into the night with my Holo, and storm the Capitol by yourself.”

Katniss presses her lips together tightly, and tries not to look too guilty at the accusation. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to capture Snow alive,” Boggs says. “We’ll be sure to save him for you when you get back.”

It’s a long three days on the train back to District 12, and when they disembark the hovercraft in Thirteen, Katniss heads straight to Haymitch’s door. He seems to be expecting her, and hardly looks up from his reading when she storms into his compartment.

“The propos weren’t being well received,” he tells her. “The districts are united. Everyone’s seen enough of you blowing things up with a bow and arrow. The focus now is getting the people of the Capitol to lay down their weapons and surrender, and we all know who speaks the Capitol’s language better than anybody else.”

“Peeta,” she admits reluctantly. 

“Yes, and they don’t know you’ve had a rocky reunion. No one has seen you two together since the rescue.” He sits back in his chair and glances out the door to make sure no one else is around to hear. “There were two options discussed. Bring you and Finnick back to show the Capitol all the happy times to look forward to, or send Peeta to the Capitol in a Squad 451 uniform.”

Katniss pales, remembering what Boggs told her before she left. That she was a threat to Coin. “She wanted to send Peeta to kill me?”

“You know as well as I do that the boy wouldn’t be coming home either.”

She scowls. Of course he wouldn’t. Boggs would put a bullet between his eyes before he got off the train. If not him, probably Gale.

“Peeta’s already dead,” she says darkly. 

“Could be, but I’m not ready to give up on him yet.” He sighs when she’s unmoved. “He’s made a lot of progress. Sending him to the Capitol with all of those bad memories? He might never recover from that.”

“He’s gone, Haymitch,” she says, and she’s even angrier now because she feels she might cry. “You have to let him go.”

“You and me, we made a deal to try and save him. Remember?”

She sets her jaw and looks away. Outside Haymitch’s compartment, she notices a name has been added. Beneath H. Abernathy reads P. Mellark.

“He’s out of the hospital unit?” she says, surprised.

“Yes, he’s been reassigned to my bunk.”

“He’ll kill you in your sleep,” she says with a humorless laugh.

“And I’ll probably deserve it, since I left him behind.”

******

There’s a strategy meeting on her schedule for the day, and she heads down to the command center early, since that’s the only thing on her schedule for the day. When she arrives, she finds that Peeta, Plutarch, and Beetee are already there, speaking quietly over a map similar to what was projected with Bogg’s Holo. She steps back into the shadows, recognizing this isn’t a conversation she’s meant to hear.

“This is the tunnel,” Peeta says, pointing to a path that runs at the bottom of their field of view. “It connects the prison cells to the mansion, that’s how they’d take us whenever we needed to film something.”

“This might be our best entry point,” Beetee says. “Since Boggs and Hawthorne are already familiar with it from the recovery mission.”

“The entire place is booby trapped. Even worse than what’s in the streets,” Peeta says. “You can’t send soldiers in there.”

“Maybe if we can send in something armored to hit every possible touch point to guarantee we trigger any traps ahead of time,” Beetee says.

“No there are cameras,” Peeta says. “And if there’s anyone left in the control room watching, this will definitely be the place they’re looking.”

Beetee nods. “So the cameras will be our first target. What’s the fail safe for surveillance?”

“Biometric sensors,” Plutarch says. “A pulse needs to be detected to mobilize the weaponry.”

“So send in a robot,” Peeta says dumbly.

“It’s also needed to activate the doors,” Plutarch says. He pauses, realizing something. “Hawthorne’s squad caught a pack of mutts this morning. They have them trapped in a school building. We may be able to use them.”

“Snow’s going to surround the mansion with refugees and threaten to blow the place sky high,” Peeta says. “You need to get all the civilians evacuated and convince them to seek shelter elsewhere.”

“We already have something in mind for that,” Plutarch says. He pulls out his pocket watch to check the time. “I’ve got to go prep for our next meeting,” he says. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Katniss scrambles back toward the door to pretend she’s just arrived. “Plutarch,” she greets.

“Oh Katniss, it’s so wonderful to see you back safe,” he says. “It’s such a shame what happened to Soldier Leeg. We were so worried about you.”

“I only wish I could have stayed behind,” Katniss says, it’s a long shot, but there’s no harm in at least trying. “To avenge her.”

“And you wouldn’t be our Mockingjay if you didn’t feel that way,” he agrees. “But we have more use for you yet.”

Plutarch leaves along with Beetee, leaving Katniss alone with Peeta and the guard she now notices posted in the far corner.

“Sorry they’re not letting you storm the Capitol,” Peeta says from his seat, but it’s obvious he’s indifferent by his tone. “It must be really hard for you, not getting to play hero for once.”

“They brought me back, because they couldn’t send you!” She says harshly. She knows it’s not fair to blame him, but everything about him frustrates her.

“It’s not like they give me a choice.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “Wouldn’t have mattered. Peeta wouldn’t have cowered in a bunker, he would have been the first volunteer to lead the charge.“

“And it would have been stupid,” he says with a scoff. “A high profile target on the brink of insanity shouldn’t be on the front lines. Every resource left in the Capitol would have been aimed right at you. It puts everyone around you in danger.“ 

“They know what they signed up for.”

“That’s easy for you to say. They’re the ones who’d be skinned alive and tortured to death so your face stays pretty for the camera. Me? I don’t have the stomach for it anymore.”

She stops short. How many people did he watch die while he was being tortured? Suddenly she feels selfish and small, and hates him all over again for exposing what a terrible person she is. “I have to be the one to kill him,” is all she can say in response.

He looks like he pities her for a moment, but it quickly passes. “The only one who will kill Snow, is Snow himself, and he won’t be going out alone.” She doesn’t break his gaze. She never planned on coming home, he must realize that. He shakes his head, growing frustrated. “This sick game you two are playing. Don’t you see the path you’re on? Nobody wins”

“Aren’t you angry?” She spats back. “After everything he’s done to you?”

“Sure I am, but I try to funnel it into something productive. Me going to the Capitol is not productive.” He frowns, like he hates to admit it when he adds, “Sending you isn’t either.”

“Well neither is me sitting here.”

“The rebel army isn’t going to lay down their weapons because the Mockingjay isn’t on the battlefield,” he says flatly.

“You don’t get it.”

“Of course I don’t. You think you’ve suffered the most, so you’ve earned it,” he says. “But last time I checked, you still have your sister, and your mother, and Gale. Hell, I’m still here, even though you haven’t a clue what to do with me.”

“Don’t,” she says lowly. “You’re not him.”

Snow took him and sent a mutt in his place. She remembers him on the beach, telling her that no one needed him. The absolute dread that filled her at the thought of losing him. A part of her died in that arena when he was left behind, and she’s fractured more and more, every time she’s faced with this imposter. The only fire she still has burning within her is vengeance. Killing Snow is all she has left.

He studies her face carefully, like he’s working all her thoughts out on his own. As if he has any clue. He shakes his head, and sighs dismissively.  

Plutarch enters then. “Oh good, you’re still here,” he says. “We’re meeting next door.”

He leads them to another room where all the victors and Coin are already gathered. Katniss takes a seat beside Haymitch and Peeta sits on his other side.

“First we’d like to welcome back Soldiers Everdeen and Odair, and commend them for their bravery in the Battle Against the Capitol,” Plutarch says solemnly.

Katniss’s eyes meet Finnick’s across the table, and they both roll their eyes in unison. Based on the way Annie is wrapped around his arm though, the odds of Finnick stowing away with Katniss on the next hovercraft out are about as likely as Haymitch deciding to tag along.

“We have a problem,” Plutarch continues. “It seems we have to reevaluate the focus of our propos. People of the Capitol enjoyed the fighting when it was happening in the districts, but now that it’s moved to their backyard…”

"It never bothered them before,” Finnick argues. Back in the Games, the Capitol loved that sort of suspense.

“No one wants to worry that the Mockingjay herself will break down their door and fire an arrow into their chest,” Plutarch says. “We have their attention at least, and we plan to use it. If anyone can convince the people of the Capitol to join our cause, it’s the Victors. They feel like they know you. They trust you.”

“They couldn’t care less if we were dead!” Johanna says with a roll of her eyes. “Besides, the propos are pointless to them. They’d rather die than surrender to a life of drab gray and standard issue rations.”

“Not if we put drab gray in style,” Plutarch says. “So far all of our footage has been about joining the war effort. We need to change our focus to what Panem will be when the fighting is over.” He’s pacing around the room now, flashing his hands around each victor with a buzzword. “Strength!” He says beside Johanna. “Hope!” He says along Beetee. “Rebirth!” Between Finnick and Annie. Then, when he gets to the District 12 side of the table he concludes with, “Romance!”

Peeta goes stone faced. “No. We had a deal,” he says. “I give intel and I run training drills for the camera, but no more star crossed lovers. We’re through with that.”

Plutarch looks like he’s getting nervous, like he expects Peeta will launch across the table ravenously at the first sign of showing any emotion.

“You’re in a unique position here, Peeta,” he says. “The Capitol used you as their mouthpiece in the early days of the war, and they haven’t heard from you since the rescue. Snow has tried to discredit you, but that’s hard work, since it makes him look like a liar.”

Peeta rolls his eyes. "You want me to smile and pretend like I agree with everything you say? I’ve done that enough already and I’m done. I’m not some piece in this damn game!”

Katniss’s eyes snap toward him, and for a minute she forgets how to breathe. She waits for a sign, some kind of proof that he remembers that quiet talk before their first Games, but he never even looks at her. It was just a coincidence. A cruel coincidence. 

“They need to see that you’re okay here. That you’re not some prisoner too,” Plutarch says, which is almost comical, with the armed guard lurking over Peeta’s shoulder. “We’ve held off on the reunion long enough. We need to show them what happily ever after looks like.”

Peeta stands from his seat.

“Where are you going?” Plutarch demands.

“Home. Back to Twelve. Thanks for the rescue. I’ll be sure to pay my taxes, or however you work all of this out, but that’s where my civic duty ends from now on.”

“We can’t sustain any more mass casualty events, Mr. Mellark,” Coin finally says, her voice always so calm and calculated. “But I suppose there are other ways to persuade the citizens of the Capitol to lay down their arms. Another Hunger Games, perhaps, pooled from families who are unwilling to surrender.”

He sits back down, and glowers at Katniss, as if this were all her fault. It’s not like Katniss is crazy about the idea either. In fact, it only reminds her of what Boggs told her before she was sent back. Coin’s not just interested in convincing the Capitol to join their side. She’s interested in erasing Katniss as the brave warrior leading the charge, and recasting her as that naïve little girl, too dumb with love to cause any problems. When the dust clears, they’ll remember that the Mockingjay called the people of Panem to fight, and then abandoned them on the battlefield.

She’s seething by the end of the meeting, and hardly pays attention to Plutarch’s brainstorming ideas. While Peeta has been able to turn all of his frustrations on Katniss, she has no problem redirecting them to him in the same way.

As they stand to leave, she stops Peeta before he can pass.

“It must be really hard for you,” she says tauntingly, mirroring his earlier tone. “Having to smile pretty for a camera." 

"Play nice, kids,” Haymitch says in a warning tone.

Peeta shakes his head. “Aren’t you angry they keep using us like little play things?”

“I try to channel it into something productive,” she says coolly. “Besides, what do I care? I’ve kissed you hundreds of times, and it’s never meant a thing.”

******

While hunting with Gale in Thirteen, they’d occasionally drift outside their allotted quarter mile radius. The animals weren’t aware of their hunters’ restrictions, and Katniss and Gale would often find themselves following tracks that led them two to three miles away from the bunker.

It was on one of these trips that she’d stumbled upon a lake, similar to the one she used to visit with her father back in Twelve. It even had a cabin, although it had been blown to bits, leaving only the ruins of a foundation behind, but the dock that stretched fifty feet into the water was still in reasonably good condition. 

Katniss had been reminded of the lake when Johanna mentioned some of the therapeutic methods her doctors were discussing to help her overcome her fear of water. Katniss had even gone so far as requesting the lake be tested for radiation, and it had been deemed safe for swimming.

The lake seemed like the perfect setting for Plutarch’s new propos, and Finnick, who’d never gone more than a few weeks without access to water, was thrilled with the suggestion. 

Cressida and the rest of her crew had stayed back in the Capitol to collect war footage, so a new team is assembled with Fulvia as director, a slew of amateur photographers from Twelve handling the cameras, and Katniss’s prep team tirelessly tailoring an assortment of District 13 jumpsuits into something sleek and stylish catered to each Victor’s best assets.

A blanket is set out on the docks and filled with foods from each district. Now that the supply lines have matured, there’s a bounty of fresh meats, fruits, and vegetables. The feast practically screams: Not from a can! Which is probably the only thing people in the Capitol have had access to in the last few weeks. There’s even a bottle of white liquor tucked away discreetly, which was probably placed after hours of debate, to show that the new Panem will still imbibe. 

They’re all deemed too pale from living underground for months, and her prep team airbrushes them shades of bronze, before sculpting their hair into something windswept and fresh.

It’s autumn, but it feels like spring. The leaves on the trees are warm yellows, oranges, and reds, and the air is warm too. Katniss stretches out on the dock beside Johanna, and soaks in the heat from the low hanging sun.

Johanna presses the bottle of white liquor into Katniss’s hand and smiles wickedly. Katniss sits up enough to take a swig, and grimaces as the liquid burns down her throat. “That’s terrible,” she says, passing the bottle back.

“It gets better,” Johanna says and takes another drink.

Finnick is already stripping naked and jumping into the water. He crows when he breaks through the surface. “It’s a little chilly,” he shouts, but seems to be acclimated after a few laps.

“Where’s Lover Boy?” Johanna asks lazily.

Katniss had seen him arguing with Fulvia earlier, probably over the fact that her direction notes stated “Peeta should kiss Katniss” and not “Peeta should hit Katniss with an oar.” After that, he went for a walk with Annie to cool down, and the last time she saw them, they were skipping rocks off the water from the shore.

She takes the bottle from Johanna and takes another drink. “Probably trying to empty his stomach now, so he doesn’t vomit on camera when he has to touch me,” she says. She sits up and dangles her feet over the edge, letting her toes comb through the water.

“He’s just embarrassed,” Johanna says, sitting up to match Katniss’s position. She hesitates before her toes can touch the water though, and instead swings her feet through the air. “He knows he’s still attracted to you, and he doesn’t want to give you that sort of power over him again.”

“He’s not attracted to me,” Katniss argues. “He told me I wasn’t even pretty.”

“Believe me, he is. We have group therapy together. It’s all he talks about." 

Before she can process it, Peeta approaches, with his hands buried deep in his jumpsuit pockets. Two people with cameras follow closely behind, and position themselves at different corners of the dock to capture the right angle. Peeta presses his lips together and lets out an annoyed sigh, before sitting down on the dock beside her. “Fulvia says I should talk to you,” he says, sounding bored.

“Mission accomplished.”

“That’s what I’d say.” He leans back on his hands to stare out at the water. “What are you two up to?”

“We’re racing,” Johanna says.

“To the bottom of that bottle?” He shakes his head when Johanna offers it to him.

“Johanna’s winning,” Katniss says.

“Did Haymitch teach you that game?”

"No, he’d never share,” Johanna says.

Katniss isn’t drunk, but she’s feeling a bit light headed, and she gets up to pick through the picnic before she loses her wits, especially now, knowing what Johanna has just told her. When she turns back, Peeta is stripping down to his underclothes, and preparing to launch himself off the edge of the dock.

“Where are you going?” she says.

“For a swim,” he says dumbly.

“You don’t know how.”

He looks unconvinced. “I survived an arena full of water, of course I know how to swim.”

“The belt was a flotation device,” she says. “You would have sunk without it. The only thing you know about swimming, you learned from me. I gave you a lesson once.”

“In that case, I must not be very good at it,” he says wryly.

“I could teach you.”

He smirks. “I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”

Maybe it’s the influence from the white liquor, or maybe it’s something else, but suddenly she begins to strip down to her underclothes and steps up to him. Lifting an eyebrow in challenge, she says, “Let’s find out then.”

Peeta narrows his eyes skeptically, like he thinks he might be walking into a trap. Then he grips her by the waist, and tosses her off the dock. The water is freezing, nothing like the tropical waters in the arena, and it takes a moment to get her limbs to start moving. She breaks through the surface, teeth chattering, and lets the light current drift her back into the sunlight.

"If I can trust you not to kill me just now, you can trust me this far,” she says, splashing the water in front of her.

He jumps in after her, and bobbles uneasily to the surface. The lake isn’t too deep, and within a few strokes toward the shoreline, she can already feel the bottom.

She goes over a few basic things, like treading water and how to float. He picks up on them right away, and they practice some simple strokes. It’s all very clinical, and boring to watch, and Katniss knows they’ll want better footage than this.

“Is it okay if I splash water at you?” she says.

“What do you mean?”

She flicks a few drops at him with the tips of her fingers to demonstrate. “I wasn’t sure if… like Johanna…” she tries to say diplomatically.

“No, it’s fine.”

She splashes some water at his face, and he does the same. They splash back and forth a few times, and again, it’s all very superficial. 

“I think they’re getting impatient,” Peeta says, nodding towards Fulvia  who is making get on with it! gestures from the shore. “We should probably just get it over with.”

She hasn’t kissed him since the arena, and she’s certain there are snipers up in the trees, ready to neutralize him if he has a psychotic break and tries to drown her. She flinches when his fingers brush her neck, and he draws his hand away quickly, flexing his fingers behind his head, while he debates a safe place to touch her.

She’s always depended on Peeta to take the lead, but that won’t work now, so they just kind of circle one another, with their chins touching the water, neither willing to make the first move. His eyes keep flitting down toward the surface, and she realizes that her underclothes are pretty much translucent from the water. His smile is almost sheepish at being caught staring, but then his expression darkens, and she realizes how she must be looking at him. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, shallow breaths. She looks like she wants him to kiss her.

And then he does. And the floodgates open. 

She remembers the night of his rescue, as she approached his hospital room. She was so excited to see him she felt dizzy, trying to picture what they’d say. What they’d do. She was certain he would kiss her, and she wondered if it would feel like those kisses on the beach. The ones that left her wanting more. 

When he kisses her now, she feels it again. That stirring that leaves tingles to the tips of her fingers. That guides her arms around his neck to pull her body flush against his. That leads her legs to frame his hips when he urges them there, aided by the buoyancy of the water. And then she feels it. But it’s not her this time, it’s him. Firm between her legs.

They’ve slept beside one another dozens of times and she’s always been aware of the effect she’s had, but he also went to great lengths to hide it. And now, feeling him pressed where her body seems to be calling for him most, her hunger turns to starvation when his hips roll against hers.

She’s too overwhelmed, and she breaks the kiss, swimming away, and climbing back on the dock where Finnick, Annie, and Johanna are gathered. Finnick drops a towel around her shoulders, and she wraps it around her body. She knows she’s shivering from the cold, but she can’t ignore that buzz still humming through her.

Peeta wades back to the dock a moment later, but only pulls himself up enough to lean on his elbows. He rests his head on his arms while he catches his breath. 

“You getting out bud?” Finnick says with a teasing lilt.

“In a minute,” he says shyly. 

She feels his eyes on her for the rest of the afternoon. It cools down quickly after the sun sets, and they build a fire near the shoreline for warmth. Katniss sits beside Johanna, nibbling on the remnants of their picnic, when she feels Peeta sit beside her.

She can’t quite look at him after their kiss, but she doesn’t protest either, when he directs her to sit between his legs, and she leans back against his chest, soaking in the wonderful familiarity of being wrapped in his arms.

She offers him a bite from the apple she’s eating, but he waves it away, and catches her chin with his finger before she can look away.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says, and she’s already nodding before she fully comprehends what he’s said, and then they’re kissing again, framed perfectly behind the flickering flames from the fire.

“You need some privacy?’ Johanna says, throwing a dinner roll at Peeta.

He catches it then rips off a bite with his teeth and throws it back at her. "Yeah, you mind?” he says. And for a second, it reminds her so much of Peeta, the real Peeta. The one who nudged Caesar Flickerman aside after their first Games when he tried to interrupt their kissing. When he returns to kissing her, she pretends it’s still him, letting herself melt completely against him, holding onto that feeling for as long as she can.

******

They’re called into the command center the next day to preview the propo, but as they watch, Beetee informs them that it’s already airing in the Capitol. As expected, the primary focus is on Katniss and Peeta, with some extended shots of Finnick swimming, and a few clips of Johanna and Katniss laughing over the bottle of white liquor. Annie’s barely in it at all, which isn’t surprising, since the news that Finnick Odair is off the market, is not popular among the Capitol Elite. 

Peeta walks out of the room before the propo finishes playing, leaving Katniss to face the images of them kissing alone. She sinks into her seat, hoping to become invisible, and is grateful when it’s over and the meeting is adjourned. 

She returns to the command center later in the evening, when she knows that Gale will be calling in to deliver his daily briefing. They linger on the line after the rest of the senior personnel have left.

“You all seem to be having a great time back there,” he says coolly.

She feels the color drain from her face. “You’ve seen the propo?” She’d told him about Plutarch’s plans to film one, but she hasn’t spoken to him since they shot the footage.

“Yeah, it’s been on an almost endless loop here,” he says. “Men, women, and children were weeping in the streets at the sight, begging to be rescued,” he adds flatly.

“Funny,” she says. “You know I’d rather be out there with you.”

His laugh is tired, like he’s done repeating this same conversation again and again. “Let’s not kid ourselves,” he says. “Sure, you want to be here, but you couldn’t care less if I were around.”

“That’s not true.”

“Right. As your hunting partner.” He sighs heavily and rests his forehead in his hand. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard seeing you kiss him like that again.”

She touches her lips without thinking, and then quickly lowers her hand. “It’s nothing,” she reminds him. “He still hates me.”

“Didn’t look like it.”

Her knees snap together tightly at the memory of Peeta moving against her, and she looks away from the screen.

“I’m doing whatever I can to end this,” she says. “That’s all I want. You know that.”

“I could think of a dozen ways to end this war tomorrow, but you wouldn’t like any of them.”

She can’t shake the image of the Nut. The mountainside crumbling as those trapped inside scramble through the chaos in search for a last gasp of air they’d never reach. She doesn’t want to think about the horrors Gale would be able to unleash against his true enemies. 

“Just stay safe out there,” she tells him, still unable to look at him.

“You too.”

It’s late, past lights out, and she runs into Peeta wandering the corridors on her way back to her room. Peeta used to do the same thing on the train, but it’s another connection she’s unwilling to acknowledge.

“You’re up late,” he says.

“I had a call,” she says, her eyes staying trained on his feet.

“Gale?”

She hates that she feels guilty at the implication, like it’s something she’s trying to hide from him because she’s doing something wrong, when she knows that she isn’t. “They just finished supper out there, it’s usually when they send back their status for the day.”

“You want me to talk to him?“ He says, and that edge has returned to his voice. The one he’s used around her ever since his return. "Let him know you’re still being faithful.”

“I don’t owe him anything, or anyone else either,” she says.

His laugh is humorless as he shakes his head. “Ah, yes, there she is. Classic Katniss Everdeen.”

She scowls at him, eager to change the subject. “What are you still doing up?”

“I had a dream,” he says. “It was unsettling.”

“A nightmare?” 

“Not quite.” He puts his hands in his pocket and tilts his head thoughtfully. “You were in it though.”

“Did I get to kill you?” She says in a tone that’s disturbingly hopeful for the thought.

“No,” he says, and the smile he flashes looks genuine. “But you were implementing some unconventional torture methods.”

“Like what?”

“You wouldn’t want to know.” He lifts his eyebrows smugly. “Gale might be interested though.”

“What are you talking about?”

He stares at her, hard, like it would take a novel to explain it to her, then lets out a loud breath. “I don’t like you,” he says bluntly.

“You don’t like me? Join the club.”

“I’m still trying to figure you out. Sort out a lot of things up here,” he adds, tapping a finger against his temple. He takes a few steps to close the distance between them. He’s looking at her like an animal hunting prey, and she knows she should be scared, that she should probably run. But instead, all she can feel is that stirring in her chest. The one she gets when he kisses her. It doesn’t help when he says, “I don’t mind kissing you though. In fact, I kind of like it.”

“I could tell,” she says, aiming for indignant, but she doesn’t sound at all convincing, the way her voice is trembling.

He smirks tilting his head to the side, so that their faces are impossibly close. “I didn’t hear you complaining either.”

“If it seemed like I liked it, it’s only because I miss him.”

He lets out a quick rush of air that sounds like the wind getting knocked out of him, but covers it with an incredulous laugh. “Gale?" 

She should leave it at that, and let him think it. Then she can walk away and be done with whatever this is. "No,” she admits instead. “Peeta.”

There’s no hesitation before his lips crash into hers. She welcomes them, her arms circling his neck so he can’t stop. He stumbles forward, propping his arm against the wall behind them to keep them upright. She could kiss him forever, she thinks, but then she’s reminded that this isn’t Peeta. It’s like Gale told her back in Two. Kissing Peeta now is like kissing a drunk person, it doesn’t count.

“I shouldn’t be…” she says, pulling away.

He sets his other hand on the wall so that she’s caged between his arms. “What? Using me because you’re lonely? I get lonely too, you know.”

They kiss again, until she can clear her head.

“Kissing you now is different…” she says. “Then before."  

“What do you mean?” He humors her, but it’s obvious he isn’t interested in talking, because he immediately steals another kiss.

“It’s like kissing is just the start of something else,” she says.

He grins wickedly. “Isn’t that the point?”

“There are plenty of other reasons to kiss a person.” She has kissed Peeta a thousand times before, and it never turned into this.

“Yeah? Want to show me?” He leans in for another kiss.

She turns her face away before he can. “I’m done here,” she says.

He sighs heavily, and pushes away from the wall when he recognizes he won’t be getting anywhere otherwise. “I used to be terrified every time I kissed you,“ he admits. "I can remember that now. I think that’s why it was so easy for the hijacking to take, since there was so much kissing.”

“Why were you scared?”

He shrugs. “I was afraid I’d fool myself into thinking you’d love me back. But now, I don’t really care what you think of me. That’s probably why it feels different.”

Katniss realizes that’s the biggest difference between Peeta and Gale. With Gale there are expectations of how well she’ll love him back, while Peeta couldn’t care less if she ever loves him at all. Even before.

“That doesn’t seem fair,” she says.

“Fair?” he says. “Isn’t it the same thing you used to do to me?”

“I’ve always cared.”

“Have you? Is that why you’ve been sitting vigil by my bedside since my return?”

“I was a little preoccupied by a crushed larynx, if you can remember,” she snaps back.

He glares at her.

“Nobody touched my memories,“ she says. "And even I can’t make sense of half of them. So, sorry for the way I’ve treated you. I’m still trying to figure things out, same as you.”

“Yeah, well I’m sorry for a lot of things too, but it doesn’t seem to do us much good.”

“It does if trying to strangle me is on your list,” she deadpans.

He laughs, but it isn’t that cold, dismissive one. It’s a quiet and amused snort that even he seems surprised by. “Goodnight, Katniss,” he says, and the moment has officially passed, because now he’s backing away.

She’s not done though. “You brushed against me before,” she says, before he can turn away completely. “In the lake. And I felt it.”

He stops, and lifts his brows curiously. “Yeah?”

“You’d never done that before either.”

Even with the distance between them, she can see the shift in his eyes as they narrow, his pupils dilating until they turn black. He lets out a slow, deliberate breath that seems to suck the air from her lungs. “Did you like it?”

She leaves without answering, but when she returns to her compartment, she sits on the shower floor with her legs spread, and touches herself where she felt him before. Her fingers circling until she captures that sweet release she’s been craving. And when her eyes flutter open after her pleasure has waned, she realizes she was picturing him.

******

Training now is different than it was for Squad 451. There’s still target practice, and enough running to make Katniss puke, but now the focus is also on medical training to aid in relief efforts. The plan is to send the Victors in after the final offensive line reaches the City Center, when the Capitol is already secured, as a part of the liberation. 

Katniss hates the role, but is happy that medical training means she gets to spend time with her sister.

Delly, Peeta, and Prim have been playing a game called “Real or Not Real,” which Annie introduced them to. It involves Peeta describing a memory, and then Delly or Prim tell him if it actually happened. When they play around Katniss, it’s mostly superficial. Peeta asks about former school teachers, or what kind of food was served at the harvest festival. Occasionally he’ll ask about events from the Games, but never anything involving Katniss.

Over reflection the other night, Prim admitted that when Katniss isn’t around, the questions are almost exclusively about her.

Ever since the incident in the hallway, Katniss has been avoiding him. It doesn’t help that, according to Haymitch, Peeta had another setback yesterday that required him to be sedated much of the day. Katniss doesn’t admit what happened between them, but by the way Haymitch talks, he already knows. Either because Peeta told him, or they caught it on the security cameras.

Whatever his setback was, it must have passed, because Peeta’s almost cheerful today. Cracking jokes with Delly and Prim, and no longer staring at Katniss like he’s going to devour her at any minute.

Katniss doesn’t mind the reprieve, and she sits idly off to the side, practicing her stitches, while the three play their game.

"Hey Katniss,” Peeta says, catching her attention. “Pearls come from coal. Real or not real?”

She lifts her eyes to meet his. He’s smiling at her, which means he must already know the answer, and she can’t help but smile back. "Only in the Capitol,” she says. 

He furrows his brows, like he’s still stringing pieces of the memory together. “Effie told us that, we used to joke about it.”

She nods. “You gave me a pearl once too. On the beach.”

“I did,” he says in a tone that’s a mix of a question and an answer at the same time.

“I still have it,” she admits.

This seems to have unlocked a new memory and he presses his lips together, his eyes scanning across his workspace like he’s reading words off a page. “I gave you a locket too, didn’t I?”

“It was your token,” she says encouragingly. “It had a picture of my mother and Prim… and Gale.”

He nods. “I guess I already knew then, about you two.” He looks unsettled for a moment, and Katniss wishes she could take back what she told him. He’s quiet, his expression almost settling into that broody look he’s always sporting now, but then he scrubs his hand over his face to clear it away. He flexes his fingers a few times in front of him and lets out a heavy breath, which reminds Katniss to breathe again too. “Your favorite color is green,” he finally says.

She’s surprised when he says it. Because it’s less about remembering something she’s told him, and more about why she had told him in the first place. It was the conversation they had on the train, after they’d argued over her keeping secrets. In that moment they had called a truce, and decided to become friends. He’s doing that again now, and all she has to do is get over her pride and accept his kindness, something that has always felt impossible for her to do.

“And yours is orange,” she says.

“Like Effie’s hair,” he agrees with a smile, like they’re keeping a secret. And just like that, she recognizes it. That Peeta really is still there.

******

She hears him in the hallway every night. 

Peeta’s always walked with a heavy gait, and his footsteps are unmistakable at night when he roams the halls in search of sleep. She usually ignores it, but things feel different now, and this time, when she hears him stomping by, she opens her door.

“Another unsettling dream?” She says.

“Unfortunately not tonight, no,” he says. “Well it was certainly unsettling…” he shakes his head, unwilling to humor her. “I probably won’t be sleeping tonight.”

“What do they give you?” She asks, leaning lazily against the doorway.

He scratches behind his ear sheepishly. “They’re trying to wean me off the heavy sedatives, because I was forgetting how to breathe on them. So now I just get sleeping pills.”

“Which make the nightmares worse,” she concludes.

He looks at her with uncertainty for a moment, then nods.

“You want to come lay down?” She says and gestures over her shoulder toward her bunk. “It used to help – for both of us.”

“I probably shouldn’t,” he says, but he doesn’t make a move to leave. “Is Johanna in there?” She nods, although Johanna’s dead weight at night, since she swipes Katniss’s sleeping pills on top of her own. The morphling she siphons while “observing” in the hospital wing probably doesn’t help either. “Maybe that’s okay then, since we wouldn’t be alone.”

He climbs into her bed, and she settles beside him. The bed is small for one, and they have to tangle their limbs to fit, like when they shared a sleeping bag in the first Games. She hardly sleeps, because she can’t stop watching him. He looks just like Peeta when he’s sleeping. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest is the same, and his long tangle of lashes flutter against his cheek the same way when he drifts between sleep cycles. He even smells like him, she notices, as she tucks her chin against his chest.

She rolls onto her other side, so her back is to him, hoping that it will allow for her mind to rest. When sleep finally takes her, she dreams of their last night on the beach, when he’d lovingly tucked her in and she imagined that beautiful meadow from the song she’d always sing. 

When she wakes, she’s immediately aware of the weight of his arm draped across her waist, and the firmness of his chest against her back. She peers at him over her shoulder, where his nose is nuzzled between her shoulder blades. 

It’s always hard to tell what time it is in Thirteen without windows, but they at least set the lighting system to simulate the sunrise and sunset, which they claim optimizes a person’s circadian rhythm. The overhead lights are starting to glow faintly, which means the morning alarm will sound in the next hour. 

She doesn’t want to disturb Peeta, but she needs to stretch her limbs from the cramped position she slept in. Her hips tip back, ever so slightly, bumping into his in the process, and she feels him, hard against her thigh. That dull ache strikes her again, creeping from her chest to low in her belly. She tucks her cheek back against her pillow and tries to ignore it, hoping to catch a few more minutes of sleep while she still can. In her lucid haze, she feels curious, though, and she swivels her hips back more deliberately. 

This seems to wake him, and he takes in a sharp sort of breath that’s caught in his throat. His arm tightens around her, hand splaying flat across her stomach to press her pelvis into his. He swells against her back, with an almost imperceptible thrust, while his breathing grows heavy in her ear. 

She remembers the feel of her own fingers circling between her legs the other night. It’s all she can think about with his fingertips brushing so close to the elastic of her sleep pants. It’s embarrassing how much she wants him to touch her, and while he wears his arousal fairly obviously, she can feel her own starting to dampen her underclothes. 

His hand dips lower, touching the bare skin from where her shirt rides up. She angles her hips toward him, and her legs fall open in invitation. He’s still moving against her, picking up his pace when she hooks her thigh over his. His fingers stretch, palm bracing her against him, as he ghosts over the fabric of her pants. So close. 

Her breath hitches in anticipation, and her hand covers his to urge it lower, but then his fingers start to flex, slipping from her hand, and he pulls himself out of bed abruptly. 

“I should go. The wake up call will be soon,” he reasons, as he hurries toward the door. 

She feels like she’s had the wind knocked out of her, and she slumps back on the mattress, haunted by the heat he’s left behind. She closes her eyes tightly and tries to calm the current humming through her body, but she’s still wound tight when the morning bells start to ring 30 minutes later. 

The next night, she sits in bed watching the door and waiting for the sound of his footsteps. She practically pounces when she hears him approach.

“Can’t sleep?” She says casually, bouncing lightly on her heels to hide how eager she is to see him. 

“Haymitch is snoring,” he says, and the light in his eyes, and the way his body seems to follow her every movement, like he’s caught in her magnetic field, makes her think he was just as eager. 

“Is that what it is?”

He drops his voice an octave, tipping his face toward her slightly to maintain discretion. “He’s been fermenting grape juice in the closet. The first bottle was rancid, but he said the next bottle was good. He finished them both.”

She steps aside so he can enter, and follows him into bed. There’s no pretense after that. She listens for him, opens the door, and then they sleep. Just sleep. 

People must know. There are cameras in all of the corridors, and Peeta sneaking into her room should draw concern, given that he’s tried to kill her. She wonders if maybe that’s why Coin allows it. 

During the day, they don’t talk about it. They play Real or Not Real, skating around mostly safe topics, and she even shows him the plant book they’d been working on, pointing out all of the sketches he did. That night he brings her a pile of scrap paper with all the various plants he remembers from the last arena, and the next day they find spaces for them, getting help from her mother, Finnick, and Annie for the ones they’re unable to identify.

She goes nearly a week without a nightmare, but one night she dreams she’s in the Capitol with Squad 451. Boggs steps on a landmine that blows him in half. Mutts whisper her name as they chase her through the streets. One catches Finnick and he’s ripped to shreds. Prim stands at the gates of the President’s mansion and catches a silver parachute, just as it explodes.

She’s trapped and can’t wake up. She feels like she’s underwater, paddling desperately toward the surface that only seems to drift further and further away.

“Katniss,” she hears her name whispered just like the mutts in her dream. She can’t escape it. “Katniss,” she hears again.

And then she feels his lips on hers. Firm and familiar.

“Katniss, it’s not real,” he says, and then he kisses her again. “Not real, Katniss. It’s not real.”

“Peeta?” She says, finally coming back to herself. She’s crying now because he’s here. Peeta. He came back to her. 

“Sorry,” he says, referring to the kiss. “You wouldn’t wake up.”

They’re both sitting up now. Her at the head of the bed and him in the middle. She’s still struggling to catch her breath from outrunning her nightmares, and she wants to keep them behind her, a thousand miles away if she can get there. She rolls forward on her knees to close the distance between them and kisses him again. It’s one of those kisses. One that awakens everything inside of her. One that will linger in her thoughts for months — maybe longer.

Whatever hesitation there was last time vanishes in an instance, and he pulls her into his lap, spreading her legs so they frame his hips. She’s the first to grind against him, and he pins her there with a hand on each thigh. She rolls her hips achingly slow along his length, separated by layers of sleep clothing, and she feels him harden beneath her. It makes her feel powerful, so she does it again, repeating the movement until he’s bucking up to match the motion. He urges her to lay back against her pillow, and his body blankets hers. He kisses her again, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with every thrust of his hips, like he’s making a map of her, in search of every place that makes her tick. 

He shifts his weight onto one arm, and his other hand sweeps down her body and under her shirt. He finds her breast, nipple pebbled within his palm, and when he pinches it between his fingers she hisses. He grins at the way she seems to unravel, and continues to massage her breast experimentally, to draw out new sounds until he’s satisfied. 

Johanna stirs in the bed beside them, and they freeze. Their eyes meet cautiously, waiting to be caught, but then Johanna just rolls over with a heavy sigh, and gives back into sleep. It doesn’t matter though, the spell has been broken.

“I should go,” Peeta says, sitting back on his knees.

Every nerve in her body seems to be thrumming. “Stay,” she insists.

His lips are swollen from their kisses and his sleep pants are still tented in his lap. He breathes deeply while he considers her request, but it’s obvious he can’t think clearly when all his blood has settled elsewhere. Eventually he nods, swiping his slick chin with the back of his hand and moving to adjust himself to effectively erase the impact of their activity, then he stretches back beside her.

She rolls onto her side to face away from him and stares at the wall. She knows she won’t be sleeping tonight, she’s too wired from her nightmares and now from the kissing too. 

She tips her hips back, hoping to find him again, but he’s facing the opposite way, pretending to be asleep. She can’t stand it anymore, this tension she feels around him that leaves her starved for release. If he won’t help her, she decides she’ll take care of it herself. She closes her eyes and tries to remember the feel of him hard between her legs, her toes curl in anticipation, as her hand dips beneath the elastic of her pants and underclothes. She gasps when her fingers sweep through her damp heat and circles her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Peeta rolls back over at the sound. “Katniss?” He murmurs, sounding exasperated when he realizes what she’s doing. His hand follows her arm to between her legs, where his fingers find hers. “Let me do it,” he grumbles in her ear. 

His breath hitches in the back of his throat when he touches her arousal, and he moves his fingers experimentally through her folds. “Have we done this before?” He whispers and she only shakes her head. His breath shudders again, sending a shiver down her spine, especially when she feels him tug her hips back to bump against his groin. “I couldn’t remember,” he says, and he must be talking about the other morning, when he was so quick to leave. “I thought I was having an episode.”

“No, this is real,” she says, her head lolling back against his chest, as he teases her center. “Keep going, I want you to.” She’s so wet that his fingers just slip around aimlessly, but when they finally find her clit, she lets out a strangled sounding cry before she can stop herself. He closes his other hand over her mouth to silence her, and then repeats the motion again with more confidence.

His hips are moving against her from behind, while his fingers circle around her clit with fervor. The sensation is overwhelming and she tries to anchor herself to anything she can wrap her hands around. The rigid muscles of his forearm as it flexes between her legs. His hand over her mouth. She reaches backward to touch his face, buried in the crook of her neck. His cheek is smooth, save for a short patch of stubble he must have missed while shaving. Her fingers tangle through his hair then settle around the nape of his neck to hold him steady. 

He lavishes the sensitive flesh along her throat. His teeth grazing lightly before his tongue swirls around her pulse point, sucking it between his lips. There will probably be a mark in the morning, but right now it feels too good for her to care. 

The pressure on her clit stills when he moves to dip a finger inside her. Her walls stretch then tighten around the intrusion. “More?” He murmurs, then grins against her neck at her eager nod. He adds a second finger, pumping them effortlessly through her arousal while using the heel of his hand to catch her cleft. 

It all feels so good, so impossibly good, she bites into his hand to keep from making a sound. He seems to like it, so she bites harder, until she breaks the skin. They’re practically feral as they move together in a frenzy of thrusts and strokes. She’s so close to cresting something when something strikes Peeta.

“Get off of her!” Johanna is shouting, standing over them with her History of Military textbook, which is the closest thing to a weapon within reach.

Katniss realizes how it must look, Peeta’s hand around her neck, while she shudders with desperate gasps. He rolls away quickly, and leaves their compartment without a word.

“We were just sleeping,” Katniss says defensively. 

"Who cares if you were fucking?” Johanna says. “You can’t be alone with him like that, he could kill you.”

At lunch the next day, Katniss can hardly look at anyone at the table. Her hair is down, and she smooths it over her neck constantly to hide the marks Peeta left across it. Peeta sits across from her, and she feels him watching her while he flexes his bandaged hand on the table.

“What happened to you?” Delly asks Peeta.

“I had an episode last night,” he lies, or maybe he isn’t. Maybe they both had a momentary lapse in sanity. “Bit my hand too hard trying to break out of it.”

“Good thing no one got hurt,” Johanna says pointedly. She turns her glare to Katniss. “So Katniss, hear from Gale recently?”

Katniss hunches further over her stew. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “They’re keeping count of all the pods they shoot down. Gale’s ahead of everyone else by nearly 100.”

“Must be killing you to not be there with him,” Johanna says coolly.

Katniss looks at Peeta and then looks away. They’re silent through the rest of the meal.

As they exit the cafeteria, Peeta pulls her aside to say, “Johanna’s right. We probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

*****

The rebels will be taking the Capitol any day now, and it’s decided that a Liberation Tour will take place. The surviving victors will stop at each district, en route to the Capitol, to distribute rations and gifts in celebration. Peeta volunteers to decorate sweets, and takes over the kitchen in Thirteen to do so.

Ever since he decorated the elaborate cake for Finnick and Annie’s wedding, people are fascinated to watch him work, and he’s in no short supply of assistants, starting an assembly line that at one point, Greasy Sae even joins.

Katniss is almost disappointed that his decorating has become so popular, because it means she never gets to see him. He’s always too busy demonstrating tasks and supervising others. And she misses him, now that he doesn’t sleep in her compartment anymore. 

On the last evening of prep, when he’s putting together the final touches, she finally catches him alone, and helps him clean up and pack the tiny boxes of chocolates.

“Where do you think you’ll go after all of this is over?” Peeta asks.

It’s a weird thought to have. When this is over. She never pictured making it to this point. “I don’t know,” she says. “Back to Twelve, I guess. There are too many rules here.”

He frowns. “Have you been back? Since…”

“A couple of times. Your house is still there in Victor’s Village. We went inside to borrow one of your suits for Finnick and Annie’s wedding. There’s a group of people who’ve already moved back. They’ve been sifting through the rubble before the ground freezes.” She takes a deep breath, dreading her next words, “Giving people a proper burial.”

His expression is impossible to read, and she doesn’t push it. She changes the subject instead. “What about you?” She asks brightly. “Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. Wherever they’ll let me,” he says. “I’m not sure the doctors in Thirteen are through with me yet, and there are some Capitol doctors from the hijacking program that are willing to help fix me, under the terms of their surrender.”

“You’d stay in the Capitol?” She asks, and the thought makes her sad, because even though there are so many bad memories there, Peeta always seemed to flourish in the Capitol. He could be happy there, now that they aren’t trying to kill him.

“You think Gale will go back?”

“To Twelve?” she says. She tries to picture the Gale from Thirteen, going back to making rabbit snares in the woods. “Probably not. I don’t see him being happy there. He’s too good at the whole ‘war thing.’”

“So are you,” Peeta argues. “You’re the Mockingjay, after all.”

“My abilities as a soldier start and end with my ability to shoot straight. You can ask Boggs, he’ll be happy to tell you all about it.”

“You’ve been begging to get back into the action for weeks now,” he reminds her.

Ske keeps her head bowed while she focuses on her work. “Because I wanted to be the one to kill Snow. For a while, that felt like the only thing I had left. If I cared about anything else, it might get taken away again.” She blinks rappidly to stop the tears threatening at the corners of her eyes, covering it with a half hearted laugh.

“But you don’t feel that way anymore?”

She meets his eye for a moment, then looks away. “I don’t know.”

“Is that why it’s been so hard? To choose?”

She rolls her eyes and pushes the box away once it’s full. It always comes back to this. She sets another empty box on the counter and begins to fill it. It's the last box left.

“What? Between you and Gale? Not you too,” she says flatly. “Why would you care? You don’t even like me.”

He ducks his head sheepishly at the remark. “Yeah, but I’ve got a lot of money riding on this.”

“Ah, the frivolous riches of a Victor. Sorry to say, but I’m not choosing anyone.”

The way he looks at her leaves her paralyzed beneath his gaze. “Good,” he says. “That’s what I was betting on.”

“In that case…” she says, trying to relieve the tension. It takes a moment for her knees to stop trembling, and she leans her entire weight on her elbows instead. “You should come back to Twelve. When this is over. You know, for Haymitch. We’re the only family he’s got left." She pauses, the words sitting like ash on her tongue. "We’re the only family you’ve got left.”

His smile is sad, as he returns his attention to his work, and she senses it’s time for her to go. “I’ll be okay,” he says. 

She turns to leave, but he stops her before she can reach the door when he says, “Hey, Katniss. You loved me -- before. Real or not real?”

It feels like all the air has been sucked from her lungs, and she stands there motionless. She turns, only enough to meet his eye from over her shoulder. “Real,” she finally allows herself to admit.

He nods thoughtfully a few times then returns to his work, and Katniss rushes out of the room before she does something stupid like tell him that she still does.

******

They leave the next morning. The remaining victors: Katniss, Peeta, Finnick, Annie, Johanna, Haymitch, and Beetee. They’re the only victors left. They take a hovercraft to Twelve, where a train is waiting. Not the cargo train that transported soldiers to the battlefields. This is the same train that took them as tributes to the Games. 

While in Twelve, they deliver aid and assist in the recovery effort. Katniss holds Peeta’s hand after he digs through the rubble, and locates a piece of the old bakery sign. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the day, and he excuses himself as soon as they board the train, skipping dinner to retire to his private car. 

Katniss considers going to him, but Haymitch shakes his head. “It’s a lot for him to process at once,” he says. “I’ll keep an eye on him tonight.”

The train zigzags through the districts, and each night, Katniss has to remind herself that this is a good trip. That all of this will be over soon. During the day, she revels in the smiling faces who welcome them, knowing they’ll all sleep safely tonight with full bellies, and no worries of the Capitol’s wrath reaching them again. She finds herself sharing a train car with Johanna most nights, and they whisper over their fantasies of Snow meeting his final demise. 

When they visit District 4, they stop at the ocean. Even Johanna steps into the water, ankle deep, to absorb the salty air, and the blissful calm that comes with it. 

Finnick pulls them both aside on the beach. “We’re not leaving,” he tells them. “Annie and I, we’re staying. She’s pregnant, and the stress of going back there? She just doesn’t need that right now.”

Katniss hugs him tightly, and when Johanna hugs him too, she hears him tell her, “Give him hell for me.”

That night, Johanna is the one to lock herself away, so Katniss sits with Peeta and they linger in the dining car long after the meal has ended. 

Haymitch enters. “The rest of the tour has been postponed,” he tells them. “We’re heading straight to the Capitol?”

“Why?” Peeta says. “What happened?”

“Snow’s dead,” he says, and lets the statement linger into silence for a long moment, while the news sinks in. Katniss knows that both Peeta and Haymitch are waiting for her to respond. To laugh, to cry, to blink even, but she can’t seem to do anything at all. 

Peeta picks up the conversation for her. “How?” 

“A suicidal banquet was held after the rebels breached the mansion tonight,” Haymitch says. “They’re pulling his body in the morning.”

“Why wait?” Katniss says, finally finding her voice again. 

“They set the room on fire after, there might not be much left.”

“Were any of our soldiers hurt?” Peeta asks. 

“No,” Haymitch says, giving Peeta a reassuring grin. “We had some good intel.”

“So it’s over then?” Katniss says slowly. 

“They’re currently checking the line of succession as we speak. We’ll have to identify everyone who was in that room, then cross names off the list until we find the first one left alive. Hopefully, whoever that is, they’ve already been captured. But I know I’ll be sleeping better tonight.”

Katniss returns to her private car and orders a bouquet of white roses. She spends the rest of the night plucking each petal one by one until there’s nothing by bare stems left in the vase. She still doesn’t know how she feels. She’s not even numb, she’s just lost. They won, she should feel like they’ve won, but she doesn’t. It’s not even the fact that she wasn’t the one to deliver the killing blow. It was never a game. None of it. Nobody was ever going to win. It was no way to live.

When there’s a knock on her door, she doesn’t even have to guess who it is on the other side. “You okay?” Peeta asks. 

She shrugs. “Are you?”

“Will any of us ever be?” He replies. “Can I? Could I?” He asks shyly, nodding into her compartment. “Would that be all right?”

She steps aside wordlessly to welcome him into her bed. She couldn’t imagine spending this night beside anyone else, and they spend it like they have every night before, wrapped around one another to fend off the unknown horrors that could lie ahead. 

In the morning, they arrive in the Capitol, where Boggs is waiting to escort them.

“You decided to sweep in at the last minute to take all the credit?” He teases. Relief swells in her chest, and she doesn’t care if it’s against protocol, she hurls herself into his arms to hug him tightly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my word, about Snow,” he says into her hair. “We couldn’t get to him in time.” 

She’s still conflicted by the news, but she’s too elated to see that Boggs is safe. “Who cares, the bastard’s still dead, right?” He looks at her warily. “And let Coin know, I have no interest in being a king maker. So long as you and Haymitch support her, I won’t stand in the way.” She leans forward to lower her voice. “I’m not telling her who I’m voting for, though.”

Boggs ruffles her hair affectionately. “Get out of here and go be a kid for once.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” she says with a mock salute as she backs away. 

Gale’s arms circle her a moment later and he swings her through the air. “About time you showed up. How was the vacation?”

“Vacation? More like giving you the opportunity to finally pull your weight around here.”

A hovercraft flies low overhead, showering silver parachutes below. One floats into her hands and she recognizes the intricate decorations on the packaging. It’s the sweets Peeta made in Thirteen, mixed in with the ration packs that are being supplied. She hands it off to an empty handed Capitol child, and searches the crowd for Peeta, but he’s already slipped away. 

******

It’s the first day of spring, her favorite day of the year.

Katniss wakes up at dawn and pulls on her father’s old hunting jacket. The morning air is still brisk with the bite of winter, but she doesn’t mind. She pulls out her thermos and warms her chest with a sip of pine tea. 

The fence is never charged anymore, but it still stands as a fortress around the district. Thom installed a few gates though, including one at Katniss’s request, right outside of Victor’s Village, and she slips out into the woods with ease. 

She checks her snares, then picks off a goose with an arrow. There’s a patch of mint that’s turned purple in the winter months, and she fills her spare satchel with it, picking off a few leaves to add to her thermos before she heads home.

As she cuts through the meadow, she pauses at the gaping hole in the earth that they hastily cleared out before the ground could freeze. They’ve filled it back in, best as they could throughout the winter, but the ground is lumpy and uneven. She notices the perimeter is dotted with a few dandelions, and she plucks them from the ground to lay upon the mass grave.

When she returns to Victor’s Village, she drops off her game bag, where Sae is eager to unload the day’s offerings, quickly putting her granddaughter to work prepping a stew to serve the volunteers later in the day. Katniss isn’t sure how this arrangement worked out exactly, Sae and her granddaughter moving into the spare bedroom in her house, but since there’s always a meal waiting for her whenever she comes home, she doesn’t mind it. 

The only part of District 12 that was left unscathed by the firebombs was Victor’s Village, and since the houses are huge, there are two to three families bunking in each one for now. That’s why it isn’t surprising to see smoke billowing from Peeta’s chimney across the way. Delly’s been living there along with all the other orphaned merchants who decided to return. 

Peeta’s house has a special oven that the Capitol installed when he moved in. It’s made of stone, the same type they had at the bakery, and can heat things at over 1000 degrees, twice as hot as standard kitchen ovens. Delly has been too nervous to get it started, and all of Katniss’s offers to figure out how to light it have been politely rebuffed (as if Katniss has a history of blowing things up), so every attempt at baking bread has been pale and lumpy. Judging by the thick smoke coming out of the chimney though, it looks like that may have changed today.

"Are we finally going to get the good bread today?” Katniss calls out as she crosses the courtyard toward his old house.

She’s stunned, stopping short at the base of the porch steps when it’s Peeta who opens the door. She hasn’t seen him since the liberation of the Capitol a few months ago. There were a few events they had to make appearances for, like the signing of the Treaty of Surrender, but then she went back to Thirteen, and eventually Twelve, while he stayed behind for treatment. 

“It’s been a while,“ he says. "We’ll have to see if I still have it in me.”

She’s rendered speechless, and can only blink dumbly in response. He looks good. His hair looks freshly cut, his skin looks clean, and he’s even put some weight back on, which was near impossible on Thirteen’s rations. He looks more at ease than she’s ever seen him, even before the first Games. His smile is bright, and he’s lost any trace of that clouded look he had before.

“You’re back,” she finally manages to say.

His smile widens. “Guess I am.”

“Since when?”

“The Capitol released me last week and my train didn’t get in until this morning,” he says.

“Delly didn’t mention it.”

“I kind of asked her not to. I hadn’t decided if I was coming back for sure, until I got off at the train station.”

“Does Haymitch know?” She says

“He’s the one who picked me up, actually.”

“Typical,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “That man, always keeping secrets.”

“It was probably my fault,” Peeta admits.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” She shifts her weight between her feet. She can’t think of anything to say. All she knows is that she doesn’t want to leave. “How are you?”

“Better.”

“You look it.”

“Thanks, I think,“ he says with a laugh.

“No, I mean it. You’ve lost that,” she waves her hand in front of her face, “look.” She grimaces and shakes her head, she always says the wrong thing, but he doesn’t seem bothered. “It’s good to see you smiling again.”

He takes mercy on her by changing the subject. "Are your mother and sister back too?”

“No, they stayed in Thirteen to finish her doctor training. She has a few more years left in the program.”

“You didn’t stay with them?” He says, looking surprised. 

“Well, now that I’ve lost my Mockingjay privileges, I’d probably only last a week before they kicked me out for disobeying orders.”

“You think they’ll come back when she’s finished?”

“I hope so. Otherwise, I’m the most experienced healer in all of District Twelve.”

“We’re doomed.”

She laughs. “Hey, I treated you once, and you didn’t die, remember?”

“A ringing endorsement, if I’ve ever heard one,” he says wryly. “We’ll just have to strategically hide the fake leg.” Their laughter fades in the warming spring air, and they linger in silence.

She doesn’t want to go, but there isn’t a reason to stay either. She rolls her lips together, and gives him a formal nod. “Well I’ll let you get back to it,“ she says.

“Hey, you want to go out sometime?” He says abruptly, before she can step away.

“Like on a date?”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” he shrugs. He leans against the porch railing, tracing his finger along the worn wood while she mulls over the question.

“Seems kind of formal. Aren’t we technically married?”

His nose scrunches and he scratches behind his ear, letting out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know. Are we? That’s been a point of contention with my therapy. No one knows the answer for sure.”

“Not real,” she says.

"Good,” he says, nodding a few times before the corner of his mouth twitches into a small smile. “That’s probably something I’d want to remember.”

She’s caught off guard by the statement, when she shouldn’t be. He wanted it to be real, she’s always known that. What surprises her, is even considering marrying him some day, and thinking she wouldn’t mind it.

It’s too much to think about, so she quickly changes the subject. “Why would you want to go out with me anyway? You don’t even like me,” she reminds him.

He flashes a contrite smile, like he realizes he’ll never live that comment down. “Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, and he tilts his head to the side to avoid the late morning sun. “But I think I could be persuaded.”

“Wow, that must have been some therapy,” she says dryly. 

“I don’t know, the objective was to make me sane…”

The statement hangs into silence, and he frowns, probably thinking she’s been deflecting his original question, and maybe she has. 

“You can say no, too,“ he says quickly, as if he senses the growing tension. "That’s kind of the point of asking. If you’re not interested I’ll buzz off. I don’t want you to think I only came back because I assumed I’d win by default.” He grimaces. “Because it’s not winning. You’re not some prize…”

"You doing anything right now?” She says, interrupting him.

“Aside from surgically extracting my foot from my mouth, not much.”

She grins. “I hope you don’t need a healer for that.”

He laughs, his smile bright and again at ease. 

"You want me to show you around?” She says.

His eyes cut across Victor’s Village, and then past the gate where the town used to be, before it was turned into rubble. “It didn’t look like there’s much to see, based on the last time I was here.”

“That’s because you don’t know where to look.”

While most of the area around the square is still piled beneath dense rubble that’s hard to clear, the structures in the Seam were all made of thin rotting wood, saturated in coal dust. When the fire bombs fell, there was barely even ash left behind, that’s how easily it burned. That’s where most of the rebuilding efforts have been focused since the end of the war. It’s a blank canvas. 

Of the eight hundred District Twelve survivors, fewer than two hundred have returned so far. Most have stayed in Thirteen. Others, like Gale and his family have relocated to other districts, since people are allowed to move freely between them now. While Twelve has started to rebuild, a lot of volunteers from other districts have come in on the train to help. They stay for a week or two at a time to offer spare tools and a helping hand. Now that the damage to the Capitol has been mostly cleared, they’re starting to ship heavy duty trucks, capable of moving a couple tons of stone and dirt at a time, far more than the fleet of horse drawn carts Twelve was initially using.

The Seam is close to the train station, because that’s where the tracks run — where the coal is. So they’ve set up some temporary trailers and tents for volunteers to stay, and a pop up market, made up of simple, covered stands, where they sort out goods for distribution. It’s also become the natural spot for trading basic services.

Katniss has her own stand, where she prepares pelts and deerskin leather when she has it. Delly joins her most days and helps her sew the smaller pelts together into something more usable. Unfortunately, deerskin isn’t great for shoes, but Delly has designed some fur lined work gloves that Katniss is getting pretty good at making too. Sometimes they make salves and herbal remedies using whatever plants Katniss has collected in the woods, and treat whoever is in need of it, since they both had extra medical training in Thirteen. It’s a real catch all kind of stand.

Delly’s the only other familiar face in Twelve to Peeta, so Katniss figures she’s the only other person he would be interested in seeing, and that’s where they go first.

Delly squeals when she sees him. “You made it!” She says, launching herself into his arms. Katniss becomes painfully aware that she didn’t think to hug him back when she first saw him. In fact, they’ve been hovering just out of the other’s reach through the mile walk over here. 

“I made it,” he confirms.

She pulls away. “Did you start the oven?”

“Nice to see you too, Delly,” he teases.

She ignores him and guides him a few stands over, where there’s a paltry spread of Delly’s pale, miss shapen loaves and a plate of neglected cookies.

“What is this?” Peeta says, trying not to sound too horrified, although he obviously looks it.

“The bakery,” Delly says.

“I made cookies,” Katniss chimes in weakly.

He touches her arm and smiles at her gently. “You made something,” he agrees. She should be annoyed with him for being condescending, but this is the first time he’s touched her in months, and all she can do is smile at him dreamily in response. He turns back to Delly. “Well you seem to have this covered, what do you need me for?”

“Fill this stand,” she says, unamused. 

“I was planning on helping out with the cleanup effort,” he says. All Katniss can focus on is his hand leaving her arm and tucking loosely into the pocket of his slacks. She misses his touch already, even with him standing right next to her.

“And what do you think all those volunteers are going to eat?” Delly says.

“There aren’t any bread bushes in season,” Katniss adds. “I checked.” This earns her another smile, and it emboldens her to brush his arm this time.

Peeta takes notice, watching the tentative path of her fingers down his forearm while he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth. “I suppose I can find the time to do both,” he says, catching Katniss’s hand in his, and their joined hands hang between them.

“Funny how that worked out,” Delly says, a knowing glint in her eye. 

“Well seeing as you and Katniss are able to clothe, feed, and heal the entire district on a daily basis, it’s the least I can do.”

Delly is distracted by something over Peeta’s shoulder. “There’s Thom,” she says. “I’m going to check to see if we’re still on schedule for today. Katniss, is Sae working on supper?”

“Goose and rabbit stew,” she confirms.

“How do I look?” she asks Peeta.

He looks perplexed. “I don’t know? Cold?” he says, noting her flushed cheeks.

She rolls her eyes and turns to Katniss for approval. “You look great,” she says.

“What was that about?” Peeta says as Delly saunters away.

“You of all people have to ask?”

His eyebrows lift with understanding. “Oh,” he says, looking embarrassed for not recognizing it sooner. He looks down at their joined hands, and brushes his thumb over her knuckles, then retracts it to comb his fingers through his hair. “Well it sounds like I have to get started on a couple dozen loaves of bread for tomorrow, so I should probably get going.”

“You’ll need supplies for that, right? I can get you a cart and show you the storage warehouse.”

Thom gets them a spare cart and Katniss helps Peeta fill it with flour, salt, sugar, and yeast. He jokingly asks if there’s an industrial stand mixer stashed away, and she knows he isn’t serious, but she’s pretty sure she can pull a few strings through Sae or Boggs or Prim to get one shipped in from kitchen in Thirteen. “Give me a few days,” she says. 

“How’d I know you were going to say that,” he says, loading the last of the flour into the cart. 

The ride back to Victor’s Village is long, since the cart constrains them to only the cleared trails. Peeta looks awkward behind the reins, lifting and pulling on them occasionally, even though the horses know the paths well enough to walk them on their own. 

“It’s kind of a dark thought,” he begins, after they’ve been riding in silence for a while. “But you would have made a good mentor.” She looks at him quizzically. “You’re resourceful,” he elaborates. “You know exactly what’s needed and how to get it. You took a district made only of ash and figured out a way to thrive.”

“I hardly did it on my own,” she says. 

“Take the compliment,” he says, his grin teasing. “It’s a part of my therapy.”

“Being nice to me?”

His eyes don’t leave the road. “Identifying the qualities that explain my feelings towards you.” 

She purses her lips while she studies his face. “I have a list too,” she admits. “I started it kind of late — later than I should have. And hadn’t even realized I had started it at all, but while you were…” she trails off with a sigh. “Not at your best. I made a list of the qualities you still had. To remind myself that you were still in there somewhere.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Well, you decorated Finnick and Annie’s wedding cake so beautifully, so you were still a painter, and a baker. And you wandered the corridors at night because there were no windows in the Thirteen compartments. You could never sleep without opening a window, it always made you feel suffocated. There were smaller details too. You never took sugar in your tea. And you double knotted your shoelaces,” she finished, nodding toward the laces on his boots. 

They sit in silence for a long moment. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “For giving up on you.”

His smile is easy, but strained. “I don’t blame you. I said some pretty awful things to you.”

“Nothing that I didn’t need to hear.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” he says adamantly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Neither did you.”

The cart pulls up to Peeta’s house and she helps unload it. “I’ll go bring this back,” she says, taking the reins. 

He stops her with a hand on her hip, and she pauses on the step of the cart, turning to face him. “Well, goodnight Katniss,” he says, lingering shyly.

She stays there too, waiting. Finally he works up the nerve, and brushes a chaste kiss against her lips. It’s over almost before it begins, but somehow it leaves her feeling like she’s flying. She can’t stop smiling, and he can’t either. They’ve shared hundreds of kisses, thousands even, but she thinks this may be her favorite kiss of all.

******

When she wakes, the other side of the bed is still warm. Her fingers stretch, tickled by the coarse hairs that pepper his chest. Her palm flattens across the broad expanse, where she can feel it rise and fall rhythmically. She lets her hand drift lower, the muscles in his abdomen tensing beneath her touch as she brushes past his belly button, to where the blanket is draped over his lap.

When they started sleeping together a few weeks ago, he teased her for immediately getting dressed after. She was always worried about something happening in the night that would require a quick escape. “What if you were naked,” she’d asked, and he only laughed and said, “Then I’d be naked outside.”

Sae’s got her granddaughter downstairs though, so now he puts his undershorts back on to sleep in, so he can remain decent, just in case. 

“No nightmares?” He says now, his voice still husky from sleep.

“Not today,” she says. Today is the first time in seventy six years that there won’t be a reaping. "Today is a good day.”

She tugs on the elastic waistband of his undershorts to free him, then wraps her fingers around his velvety skin. He hardens quickly within her palm, and she shifts in the bed, sitting up to hover over him. 

“A very good day,” he agrees, his eyebrows quirking upwards and his smile lazy when she takes him into her mouth. He hums his approval. “I think I could spend the whole day right here.”

She hitches a leg over his waist to straddle him, and he catches the hem of her nightgown as it rides up, stripping it up over her head. “They’re having a celebration in the town square this afternoon,” she says, hissing when he weighs one of her breasts in his hand. “At two. We should be there.”

He groans. “We can sleep in then.”

She leans forward to kiss him, and he takes advantage of this new position, tipping her hips back to roll her center against his length.

He grins, carding his fingers through her loose hair to push it behind her shoulders. She loves when he smiles while he kisses her. His lips are pulled tight, so it’s shallow and full of teeth, but he’s happy. A few months ago, it felt impossible that he’d ever feel that way around her again, so now she revels in every sign of it.

She breaks the kiss and smiles apologetically. “My mother and sister are coming for it. Their flight gets in this morning.”

He grimaces, checking the sunlight trickling into the room to gauge what time it is. “When? Am I going to have to sneak out the window?”

“At least you’ll be decent,” she teases.

He pins her hips and bucks his off the mattress to thrust against her a few times. “Hey now, you started this,” he reminds her.

“Under much duress on your part,” she says, biting her lip when his fingers dip between her legs. His thumb swirls through her slick heat, circling her clit lazily.

“Exactly. I’m not sure I even like you.”

She arches an eyebrow as she poises his hardened cock at her entrance, his want for her clearly evident. “Still?”

She sinks down onto him and his eyes slip shut. He smiles, content. “No, I think it might be something else.“

“Something else, huh?”

As they move together, she knows this would have happened anyway. That her fire always needed his gentle strength to survive. That she could live a hundred lifetimes, and always find herself right here.

So after, she asks him, “You love me. Real or not real?”