#mm2017

Act I:

 Death of a Seer.

 She wore the war armor of her divine office.

 Sleek, shiny leather covered her entire body, made of the hide of the immortal herds that roamed the Asphodel Fields, in the care of Chaff, the herdsman of the gods. Her booted feet could cause the earth to tremble with each step but she took care to step lightly and to mask her presence when she took her rare excursions to the Overworld. Her helmet was forged by the great Beetee as part of her suit of armor during the war against the defeated Titan Lord, Cornelius. It granted her invisibility, provoked fear in her enemies and made physical the awesome might of her power.

 She made her way through the dark chambers of her innermost lair, hidden deep beneath the bowels of the earth, where the boiling core made rock and metal turn to rivers of lava. In the upper levels of her palace, raw diamonds, rubies, onyxes and emeralds studded the walls and ceilings.  She paused in her weapons chamber and picked up the heavy, gold scepter, with which she commanded the earth to split open before her, and continued her stately walk until she left her habitation behind. Crossing beyond the bands of eternal night that hid the long entrance of Tartarus, she reach the Gates of her estate which were guarded by Gale, the incarnation of death.  

 “Chaff has prepared your horses,” he said solemnly, face dark and inscrutable as her own.

 She nodded in acknowledgement as they strode together across the great pomegranate orchard to reach the stables. The Underworld was a silent place, even for those who had life enough to speak. Those who were divinely decreed to live beyond the mortal world moved beneath skies that were not dotted with clouds or the vibrant fire of Primrose’s chariot riding from east to west. Instead, as far as the eye could see, the world was suffused with the vapors of the seething core, where the very physiognomy of the earth was decided from the shifting and collision of the earth’s tectonic plates. The deepest channels of mineralized water flowed just beyond them, feeding the spring from which Oceanus originated - the ocean at the edge of existence.  She found a melancholy pleasure in observing the deep browns, reds, and greys of her kingdom.  It did not contain the vibrant colors of the living world but possessed another kind of beauty altogether.

 “It is uncommon for the Queen of the Dead herself to accompany a soul to the Underworld. She must have been a great Seer,” Gale probed.

 “Prim asked that I attend. I cannot deny my sister. And it’s been many months since I’ve seen her.”

 “It is rare for the light of her chariot to penetrate into this dark place,” he answered and said no more. He did not help her on to her gleaming, golden chariot - her step barely touched the ground, and she did not expect such deference. Despite her distance from the living world, she was well known for being the most humane of the gods.

 She fixed her helmet over her head and stared out at the broad backs and wide shoulders of her four immortal steeds. They were the color of the deepest black, reflecting no light and bearing no blemish. Taller by half than even Gale, who had one of the most imposing statures of all the gods, they wore manes of silky ebony that flowed like a trail of black fire behind them when they took to the skies. Beyond them lay the shores of Oceanus, the sea that separated her from the living world. Picking up her reins, she clicked her tongue at the four giant steeds, stirring them to life.

 Nodding at Gale, who now stared transfixed at the horses, she snapped her whip, rousing them into motion accompanied by an uncoordinated chorus of neighs. She lurched in her chariot as they pulled her forward. Gathering speed, they hurtled toward a cliff overlooking the gentle waves of Oceanus. The dim light of a distant sun, the light of her sister, brightened between the walls of the chasm that opened to allow her passage to the Overworld. The rush of wind lifted the braid that held her hair, long and black as the Six Nights of Tartarus. The explosion of speed was one of the very few things that made her blood quicken and soon, she was whooping with undignified excitement. What did it matter - with her helmet in place, there was no one to see her.

 The Babylonians knew her as Ereshkigal, the Aztecs called her Mictecacihuatl. The Japanese prayed to Izanami and the Greeks feared Hades.

 But to the people of Panem, she was Katniss, Queen of the Dead and Guardian of the Underworld.

 XXXXX

 With helmet firmly in place, Katniss set down outside of a village, near the Sun Temple built in honor of her sister Prim, who was sometimes called Helios or the divine sun. This moniker was a mistake, of course, for it was her chariot who bore that name. But those who worshipped her often ignored the distinction. As if Katniss’s thoughts had summoned her, the lovely girl appeared in her resplendent glory, golden hair and skin gleaming with the muted light that she brought to the world when she rode across the sky.

 “Does your chariot ride alone today?” Katniss asked, shedding her garments as she walked in exchange for a soft, black chiton, cinched at the waist with a belt studded with emeralds and sapphires. She reveled in the warmth of her sister, all goodness and beauty, blazing like a star in her arms as they held each other in greeting.

 “Helios is a living thing, like your horses. She is my constant companion and knows the path I take across the sky,” Prim answered.

 Katniss felt a powerful pang of jealousy. She preferred no one’s company over that of her sister’s but, because of their responsibilities, they were often separated. That she should share time with anyone else in any kind of intimacy stimulated all of Katniss’s less tender feelings.  

 “Pity Helios is not here now, to give you her much desired company.”

 Prim laughed, her light-blue eyes blazing with humor and understanding. “Do not worry, dark sister. You are always my favorite, even though you are a most frightful creature.”

 Katniss felt her humor soften. “You must never be afraid of me.”

 Prim leaned in to Katniss, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I can never be afraid of you!”

 Katniss shook her head, allowing herself a small smile - for there was no one in the world who could provoke her gentler spirit except her sister.

 “How may I serve you?” Katniss asked at length.

 Prim became more serious. “One month ago, the great Seer, Mags, fell ill. She was a most devoted servant and those gifted in my arts have struggled in vain to heal her.”

 “So you said. You esteem her so greatly?”

 Prim nodded. “I do. But she will soon depart. It is the sad fate of all mortals ---”

 “You tried to cure her despite everything,” Katniss concluded.

 “I did, but the Moirai will not be defied. Her thread has been cut. I wish only for a peaceful passing. I know this is more of a task for Gale or even Madge but---”

 Katniss sighed. “But you want her to have the honor of being escorted by me.”

 Prim smiled. “Yes! I know you will not let her shadow become lost. Nor will you allow the judges to slight her in the least. She is a good woman, for this she is well known.”

 Katniss placed a hand over her sister’s. “Do not fear. I will end her suffering and take her directly to the Elysian Fields, as you have asked.”

 Prim squeezed her hand. “Thank you, dearest one.”

 Pressing her hand in return, Katniss turned towards the bleached, white building that stood in glory to the Goddess of the Sun. Katniss stepped inside, following the smell of the mortal’s decaying lifebreath. She passed marble statues, rendering her sister in different poses - remarkable likenesses that made Katniss pause, if only for an instant, to admire their detail. The hand that had sculpted these figures had been touched by the Muses.

 She finally entered a darkened room, where an old woman reclined on a simple mat. Long grey hair lay tousled about her, her skin deeply lined. Her eyes were rested closed against jowly cheeks. Upon Katniss’s arrival, though, her eyes fluttered open and she stared at Katniss without fear or surprise.

 “Great...Goddess,” she said slowly, with the exhaustion that comes from fighting against Death itself. “Queen of the Underworld...of wealth...and of...secret...places...”

 Some mortals were uncommonly gifted in the perception of the gods in their lives. These were the ones who became poets and priests, seers and wise people. And Mags was one of the greatest. “Shhhh…” Katniss said gently. “Your troubles are at an end.”

 “Will you be gentle?” Mags asked, looking suddenly so very small beneath her. Katniss never forgot how fragile and ephemeral humans were. These creatures, who built temples and worshiped the immortals, were just as necessary to the gods’ existence as the gods were to theirs. It was a fact gods too often forgot.

 “It will be but as a breeze over the sea,” Katniss whispered. “You will not suffer.”

 “Thank you,” Mags answered before she took one long, last breath. Katniss brushed her fingers over her sternum. The skin of her hands darkened to her elbows as she called forth her supernatural power. A strong wind blew in through the opening in the room. Slowly, with a delicacy no one would believe she possessed, Katniss drew Mags’s shadow from her chest. As she stepped from her body, Mags’s aspect became sharper, more defined until the spirit Katniss drew forth became, in appearance, the woman who now lay still on the mat.

 Staring at the shadow was like gazing into a star studded night. A constellation of lights dotted the darkness, each pin prick representing a good deed or a kindness bestowed on another. Some souls were bereft of those diamond-like eruptions; others, like Mags, were covered in their goodness like a bride adorned in riches for her groom. Katniss felt remarkably comforted by the evident purity of the seer’s soul and knew there would be no question where she would spend her eternity.

 “Come,” Katniss said gently, beckoning to the shadow to follow. Without hesitation, Mags floated beside her mistress, taking one last glance at her mortal shell before leaving the room, and the temple, forever.

 Katniss arrived to where her sister stood. The shadow, now rendered nearly translucent in sunlight, shimmered in excitement at the sight of the goddess she had served for so long. Mags dropped to her knees before Prim, hands together in supplication.

 “Rise, my servant,” Prim said in a voice that sounded to mortal ears like the melodies of all the music that ever was or ever could be composed. “You have served me well. My sister will care for you, with the same kindness you have shown all who have come to pay homage at my temple.”

 “Oh, great Goddess!” Mags said, rising to her feet. Even in death, her eyes were wide with awe.

 Katniss stepped away from Mags and Prim to take in her surroundings - the preparations for the funeral were underway - novices under the Seer were tearful as they went about their duties. Katniss was invisible to them as to all mortals. She made sure of it. But as she observed the activities of the humans around her, she felt the eyes of another, studying her, as if etching her into clay or stone. In her eagerness to see Prim, she had largely ignored the presence of anyone else. The shadow of Mags now floated beside her, waiting patiently for the escort that would take her to Elysium and to her eternal peace.

 Above the hillock, surveying his dominion, was Demetros. A giant of a god, with gold hair and pale skin that blazed in a way that Prim’s chariot did not, though they were both life incarnate. Hers was the power of pure energy, of origins and creations, of the sun that gave to all without discrimination. His was the power of living things - green, fecund, full of birth but also of the decay that fed life in an endless cycle of existence and non-existence.

 He was a fastidious deity and took great pains to care for the kingdom that had been entrusted to him since the days of the Titanomachy. His dominion stretched from the deepest roots of the most ancient trees to the tips of eagle’s wings that soared beneath the foot of the Capitol itself. Every creature that drew its sustenance from the earth was under his protection and it was his power that fueled life. He existed in necessary symbiosis with Katniss - for he was Life and she was Death and one could not exist without the other.

 However, it was not Demetros who captivated her attention, but the youth who stood beside him. Demetros was famously jealous of his children and hid them even from the eyes of other gods so that Katniss did not recognize this young being at his side. And a god he was, most likely a son, for he possessed the same golden color. He quivered with the same power as Demetros, carried the same powerful build. His eyes had stolen blue from Prim’s firmament and were of a color that was dazzling even from the distance where she stood. He stared in her direction with none of the fear with which she was usually greeted, but with open curiosity, as if he could not fathom what exactly he was looking at.

 But there was an impunity, even a challenge, in his now roving eyes. She fit her helmet onto her head, which appeared to startle him. This was no surprise, for from his perspective, she would have simply vanished before his eyes. He scanned the place where she stood, and the company of people milling about the burial site. She was sure he was searching for her but he would not see her unless she willed it.

 The shadow at her side shifted, catching her attention.

 “What say you, Seer?” Katniss asked, unable to keep the impatience from her voice. She continued to contemplate the young man, and resented even the smallest distraction from this pursuit.

 “Fate, my queen,” Mags said in a voice that, to the ears of a mortal, would have sounded like nothing more than the beating of a sparrow’s wing.

 “I have no time for riddles, human.”

 “Fate,” she repeated. “The Moirai have made their decision. Your fate is now tied to the world. Soon Winter will come and the living world will cry out in lamentation until Spring is restored.”

 Katniss pursed her lips in displeasure. She took great pains to stay out of the affairs of humans, exercising her dominion in her own kingdom and excusing herself from the happenings of the Capitol. She cared very little for the petty jealousies, affairs and vendettas of her fellow deities.

 “You’re mistaken. I have nothing to do with these things you call Spring and Winter. Come.” She made herself visible to Prim, nodding towards her sister, who looked at her with a longing that made Katniss’s cold heart glow warm and aching. Katniss desired only the solitude of her kingdom, to be insulated from such unfamiliar and powerful sensations. She withdrew from the now dispersed company but not before she cast a last glance at the young man, who scanned the horizon beyond her. Katniss had a fleeting thought, that she had not seen such beauty since the dawn of her existence.

 Resolutely she turned on her heel and led the shade back to her chariot where they would escape with all haste back to her dark kingdom, to the safety of a world without shining gods.

 XXXXX

 Katniss brought Mags to the gates of the Elysian fields, where she watched as the spirit melted into the Isles of the Blessed with the other worthy spirits of the afterlife. This special place was reserved for those who had been reincarnated three times, living virtuously each time. Katniss regretted her distemper towards Mags earlier and was extra gentle with her until she’d been released.

 As Katniss turned away from the gates of paradise, she caught sight of Madge flying on her winged sandals, speeding above her, perhaps returning from escorting souls to the underworld or, most likely, from visiting with Gale, as was her habit when she ventured below.

 Katniss smoothed out the folds of her chiton before wandering into her beloved pomegranate orchid and plucked the ripe fruit from the ancient trees. With a tap of her finger, the fruit split open, revealing seeds the color of blood.  Katniss ate them, reveling in the incomparable flavor of their sweet juice and thought about the young man she’d seen earlier. Her chest palpitated with an expectation that was entirely new, provoking a strange desire to lose herself in a field of flowers beneath the warmth of her sister’s chariot.

 Uncomfortable with these sudden fantasies of flowers and fields, she plunged into the business of rulership, consulting with the three judges when there was confusion over sentencing a shade, though the complications were normally too few to warrant close attention. She toured her kingdom, beginning with the seven rivers of Hades. She visited the river Styx, which circled the Underworld seven times, coiled like a serpent around her dominions. She walked the banks of Acheron, seeking out the silent Ferryman, Brutus, who stared out from beneath lidded eyes, made immune to the pain the river could inflict with a continuous supply of ambrosia and gold coins.

 On Katniss’s side of the river was the actual entrance of her dominion, where the ferocious, three-headed creature she’d fondly named Buttercup stood guard. With mangy, orange-striped fur, glowing eyes the color of burning coal and a snarl that made shivers run up Katniss’s spine, it nonetheless whined whenever Prim threaded her fingers through its matted fur.  

 Katniss was careful not to touch the waters of the next river, Lethe, for it promised forgetfulness to all who drank from it. It encircled the Isles of the Blessed, where the truly virtuous like Mags achieved eternal rest. From the burning banks of Phlegethon, she was sure she could hear the rage of the Titans erupting from the near infinite depths of Tartarus, only to be drowned out by the even more chilling noise of Cocytus, the river of wailing.  It was with some relief that she reached Oceanus, beyond which lay the permeable boundary between the living and the dead. Though she was in a place beyond earth, beyond its boiling center and unrelenting rock, when she commanded the earth to open, she could just make out her sister’s Sun Chariot casting its brilliant rays deep into the most obscure bowels of Hades.

 She passed the Asphodel Fields, where most of the dead ended up. Having lived unremarkable lives, they watched Katniss with empty eyes as she passed, the oldest souls being the most impassive.  How many times had they watched their mistress in her travels between the fields of Hades?

 Katniss hurried past the Mourning Fields - where those with unrequited love ended. It was telling that there was a special place for this particular type of suffering, of all the myriad of suffering humans endured. She wondered what it was like - to love and ache so terribly that it was enough to define your existence for all of eternity. She could only imagine it, for she had never desired someone in such a way and would have scoffed at the idea of it altogether, were it not for the clear evidence of its power in the human and supernatural world.

 Her mind betrayed her at that point and flew to the son of Demetros. Men like him could send countless women to the Mourning Fields. She still marveled in her memory at the extraordinary beauty of the young man - the way the very hairs on his head appeared alive with his life-giving energy, the large, sensuous build of his hands, veins and muscles undulating in the perfection of his form. Gods were always beautiful, with perhaps the exception of Wiress, who toiled in the merciless heat of her forge and had been cursed with deformities at her very creation. And yet even she possessed a power that captivated. She was not without her own aesthetic.

 But Demetros’s son was another creature altogether. He was not brooding, like Gale. He did not have the accidental perfection of Finnick, Annie’s consort. Yet he possessed the kind of face that she could easily stare at for an eon.  

 Katniss shook herself of her silly thoughts and set out towards her palace - a place of austere beauty that she hoped would sooth her thoughts. But her restlessness continued for many days, her thoughts compulsively returning to the young man.

 XXXXX

 A strange and unknown desire began to grow in Katniss.

 She had to see the young man again.

 She avoided this desire at every turn, seeking some other relief from that impulse. Anything would do - she even rode her chariot to the Capitol itself to visit her sister, who had long taken up her place at the side of Paylor, the Goddess of Lightning.

 The Capitol was everything the mortal world was not - opulent, radiant, and lavish in its comforts. It floated above the clouds, impervious to attack, by Paylor’s design, and all gods were invited to take residence there - a move that concentrated the power of the Earth and Air deities in the Capitol. But Katniss, like Annie, the third Goddess of the Great Triumvirate and Queen of the Sea, was not without her own power.

 As she strode down the gilded halls, Katniss had the misfortune of encountering Haymitch, the God of Love, lounging in the dining hall.

 “Haymitch,” she growled in greeting.

 A slow smirk spread over his dark features.  Though renowned for his virility and his facility with the amorous arts, he was also prone to bouts of profound laziness. He lay sprawled across a settee, appearing to be in a state of half sleep. A tray of fruit and a flagon of drink sat on a table beside him. “Katniss! You’ve left your cave and now do grace us with your invigorating company. Tell me, how do you spend all your time in such a dreary place?”

 “It suits me fine,” she retorted.

 “You do not give me enough to do, Goddess. Perhaps you would like to borrow Effie’s arrows and make your life more interesting,” he teased, waving a goblet of ambrosia as he spoke.

 “My life is interesting enough.”

 “Oh, come now, Goddess! A sturdy ‘shaft’ would be just the thing to rid you of your distemper!”

 Katniss huffed at his vulgarity, scowling fiercely, but her indignation only stimulated his laughter even more.

 “Where is my sister?” she said, gritting her teeth together before she was tempted to resort to violence to cure his humor.

 Haymitch reclined, resting a hand over his forehead as if he’d been suddenly afflicted by a headache. “Of all the gods, she is the easiest to find. Or have your senses been dulled by your time in that dark realm?”

 Katniss whirled on her heel and marched out of the chamber to the sound of Haymitch’s laughter pursuing her. It was a fine reminder of why she chose to stay as far away from the Capitol as possible.

 XXXXX

 She sought solace in her work and the management of her kingdom, spending time in the Hall of Judgement, listening to the more complex cases of lives lived at the border of virtue and infamy and examining the details with even more attention than necessary, all in an effort to distract herself from her obsession.

 One day, however, when she thought something fundamental might break within her, she found herself inside the confines of her dark chariot, staring down the backs of her mighty steeds.  She closed her eyes and envisioned the young man, searching the world for him until she discovered him in a meadow, in the company of two young men. Without further consideration, she took to the Overworld, breaking the confines of Oceanus, ordering the earth to part and penetrating the last dark clouds that blocked the light of her own sister’s chariot.

 The meadow rose silently around her - covered in wildflowers of every color. As she set her horses under a copse, Katniss secretly admitted her love of the glorious, colorful blooms before her, the crisp smell of air under the newly risen sun filling her every sense. It would surprise gods and men alike to know how very much she admired the world above her kingdom, perhaps more than any other gods, for she had the eyes to see it anew each time she left the Underworld. She had seen fields in her life - Elysium had no rival in all the mortal and immortal realms. But this one reeked of authenticity - death vying for life among even the smallest blades of grass. Here life struggled, and won, each and every time, and despite her immortal office, this victory thrilled her.

 She approached the young man, now wrestling in the tall grasses with two other youth of his stature and coloring - most likely, the other sons of Demetros. They were all fine youth - tall and strong, though the boy who held her interest was of a medium build with respect to his siblings. His face was less angular, perhaps because of his youth or in consequence of a gentler nature that revealed itself in the powerful but muted lines of his physique. He had a cleft chin, the perfect size for a fingertip to rest in. His eyes, now squeezed shut in concentration as he attempted to pin his brother, opened, revealing that unearthly color that had so captivated her the very first day.

 She was undetectable as long as she willed it. Still, she held her breath, watching the boys, their skin increasingly slick with sweat and muscles bulging with exertion, until the young man managed to pin down the larger one while a third counted to three. They lept up, helping each other to their feet, the largest boy clapping the younger one on the back. She inched closer to hear their conversation.

 “I want a rematch!” the tall boy said, guffawing as he wiped his brow.

 “Not today. I’ll be needing my rest after such an arduous contest,” the blue-eyed one answered.

 “Nonsense, Peeta!” the third boy exclaimed. “Our brother was hardly a worthy opponent!

 “Insolent boy!” the oldest responded. It was Peeta’s turn to laugh as he watched the two boys tackle one another, both rolling in the most undignified way on the ground.

 “When elephants fight, it is only the grass who suffers!” Peeta exclaimed between guffaws of laughter, provoking an involuntary smile from Katniss. Without her volition, she had inched closer and now watched the scene from only a few meters away. The two boys continued to grapple until sheer exhaustion caused them to collapse. They finally gathered their cast-aside clothing, and with good-natured satisfaction, walked together, chattering happily between them. Katniss was disappointed - she wanted more interaction, more reasons to smile at them. But they wandered away to a place she could not rightly follow, for they now entered the sacred woods of their father, and gods were impervious in their own palaces.  Their departure left her suddenly empty and alone.

 She returned to the glade they had only just played in, noting the crushed grass springing slowly back to life. In fact, each thing the boys had touched had not been bruised by the contact but invigorated, turning into a deeper shade of its original color, its fragrance becoming bolder and more vibrant in the air. It was the way of the earth gods to make life sing from their mere touch. She looked down at her gloved hand, thinking how different her power was, how it drained and chilled instead of quickening and reviving, and the idea of it saddened her.

 XXXXX

 She returned to that spot each day, not unlike a sunflower, following the perambulations of the sun. The one she heard named Peeta did not come each time - certainly, his father had chores for the young god that took him throughout his dominion. She discovered that this field was a preferred place for him, his brothers and the groups of forest sprites and spirits who gravitated toward them, seeking their own kind of diversion. And Katniss, after she had fulfilled her duties to her dark kingdom, spent hours watching the object of her interest. She followed him wherever she could - through the vales and hills of his father’s domain.

 She learned much about Peeta through her spying. He was a curious soul, studying the creatures under his care with great interest, not unlike the way she studied him. He kept no company with other gods - she knew this was by Demetros’s decree, who wanted his sons to have nothing to do with Paylor and her heavenly lot. But he did frequent lesser spirits, and the nymphs and naiads of the forest knew his name.

 There was so much more to the young man than his appearance. Katniss watched him accompany his father on his duties. They flew over mountains and rivers, surveying the world of the living in all its glory until they arrived in a small mountain village, cut off from the rest of Panem by a mountain range and the nearly unscalable granite walls. Mortals could arrive only by an obscure, winding road up the sloped side of the mountain.

 Katniss settled a distance away to avoid discovery by Demetros and watched as Peeta, who followed his father on his survey of the natural world around the settlement, suddenly pulled away.

 “Don’t you hear that?” Peeta asked, following a sound that Katniss herself had trouble hearing.

 Demetros became visibly impatient with Peeta. “Humans call to us all the time. Come, we have other places to be---”

 But Peeta paid his father no heed as he followed whatever had caught his attention. It soon became apparent that Peeta had heard a plea for his father’s intervention and chosen to follow it. The call for his assistance came from a small hut at the edge of the village, where a widow lived, surrounded by a gaggle of small children. She begged for the bounty of a garden that seemed to struggle in the harsh mountain environment. A small bird of offering was aflame, its smoke having carried her request on the winds and directly to Peeta.

 When he arrived, he did not ask permission of his father but answered the supplication of the widow whose garden was so barren with a touch of his hand that guaranteed her bounty for years to come. Though the prayers had been for Demetros, her plea had moved Peeta and he responded with a compassion that was becoming increasingly rare with the gods in the Capitol.

 “Are we not tasked to help those who call on us, father?” Peeta asked. Katniss did not miss the hard edge of his voice and neither did his father. Demetros face flared with barely-suppressed rage.

 “I will not brook your insolence,” Demetros said in a low voice intended to cower the young man. Peeta, however, only gazed back at the older man, the silent contest between the two ending only when a wild boar burst through the underbrush, to the ecstatic joy of the widow who promptly chased it down. Demetros turned away without a word. As Peeta’s eyes followed him, a smirk of satisfaction lit up his handsome face.

 These gestures of benevolence were repeated numerous times during her period of observation and it compelled Katniss to watch him even more.  But together with this kindness, Peeta possessed something else, something indomitable that would not submit even before the will of his father. He was also the same young man who, in the meadow, was playful, even childish with his brothers, bringing a measure of humor and joy to Katniss’s heart, bereft as she was from such light-heartedness in her own kingdom.

 In all his contradictions, he was everything that a deity of life and of the earth should be, and she began to grow very fond of him.

 XXXXX

 Some time afterwards, as Katniss emerged from the Hall of Judgement, Madge, the messenger of the gods and erstwhile escort of the dead, settled down before her.  She was a tall girl with long, golden locks. Unfurled, her wings were nearly too long for her legs and were of the same color as her hair. They were attached to her ankles, so that as she stepped onto the ground, the wings folded in on themselves, curling around her calves as if they were part of the sandals she wore. Her face was flushed, her lips tender and swollen. Katniss chuckled as her friend fell into step next to her.

 “You have the look of Death about you,” Katniss teased.

 “There is no way to avoid it in this place,” Madge parried, smirking all the while.

 “It or him, dear one?” Katniss continued.

 Madge stretched in exaggeration, smoothing back her slightly tousled hair. “You know all my secrets. And I know yours.”

 “I have no secrets. And the ones that I do have, everyone appears to know them before I do myself.”

 “In this, you speak true. You pine,” Madge said.

 “I do not!”

 “Haymitch is never mistaken. On your last visit to Prim, he said you fairly reeked of longing. He is an expert, you know!”

 Katniss pursed her lips, feeling the scowl overtaking her face. Madge laughed at the fierce look, which displeased Katniss even more.

 “You would not be the first god to become infatuated. You act as if it is not possible for you.”

 “I tire of this conversation,” Katniss retorted.

 “But you do have a challenge,” Madge continued, as if Katniss had not spoken. “The young man’s father is powerful and uncommonly possessive. He will not part with his children under any circumstances.”

 Katniss felt the color drain from her face but bit her lip to keep from exposing herself. “I do not know what you speak of.”

 “Peeta! Demetros’s son. You visit the Earth God’s kingdom nearly each day to watch the young man.”

 Katniss said nothing, her pale face now aflame. She felt the heat rising in waves over her skin.

 “If you petition Paylor, she will grant him to you. You have already been promised a son of Demetros if you so choose to exercise your right of claim over him.”

 Katniss groaned, remembering the promise made to her so long ago by Paylor, a reward after the battle and victory over the Titans. It was a promise she never expected to see exacted. “By force? It is not my way. I will not ‘claim’ anyone.”

 Madge made an exasperated sound before her face slowly changed, a mischievous expression dancing on her fine features. “You do not deny your infatuation, then?”

 “Leave me be,” Katniss said impatiently. “I am not one to become infatuated.”

 “Then perhaps you...love Demetros’s son?”

 Katniss froze in her steps, turning to her friend in barely repressed anger. “Do not trifle with me. And take this warning back to Haymitch, for I smell his interference in your words. I am Death to mortals. I have not yet tested myself against immortals, but I will not hesitate to begin with him.”

 Madge’s eyes widened, then narrowed, a smile flitting hesitantly at the corner of her mouth. Madge was the only other person besides her sister with whom Katniss shared the greatest affinity but Katniss could be intimidating in her rage, even to those close to her.  “He is only exercising the requirements of his office. He is, after all, responsible for all matters of the heart.”

 Katniss struggled to calm her anger. “You are right. But I want no one interfering. Each and every time the Capitol becomes involved in the affairs of...anyone, it only results in disaster.  Please make that clear to them. No interference of any kind.”

 Madge nodded, more serious than before. “You are Paylor of the Underworld.”

 Katniss tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Or perhaps Paylor is Katniss of the Capitol.”

 XXXXX

 Madge’s conversation drove Katniss into reclusion, unwilling as she was to expose herself to the gods. However, her resolve was weak and soon, she tired of missing Peeta. She took extra pains when she finally set out to watch him, leaving her chariot and donning her invisibility helmet.  She materialized in his preferred meadow when she was sure he would appear and soon observed his arrival, carrying an object she instantly recognized as an easel. It was larger than one any human could carry, but he set it down with ease. Next to it, Peeta placed a wooden box, within which were the accoutrements of his hobby - paint brushes, paint, strips of cloth and water.

 Katniss let out a sigh at the sight of him, relief and euphoria warring within her. She watched him survey the landscape around him - large hands perched on his hips. He wore a short chiton that just barely hid his bottom and leather sandals laced to his knee. It was common enough attire in the Overworld, but on him, it appeared new and exotic. It no longer surprised Katniss to discover how very enticed she was by his appearance.

 After some planning, he settled down to work. As his brush swept the canvas, Katniss crept ever closer, observing as the field and sky emerged from the blank expanse, a near perfect duplication of the reality before them. Except there was something added, an overlay of his very essence, not unlike the part of himself he left behind when he walked the fields or touched the plants and animals. The trees in the painting were as alive as the ones in the forest, the grasses moved as they did now, with the wind threading between them.

 But the most extraordinary thing she observed was the sun, not as mortals saw it, but the way the she did, as all gods did. Not an indescript ball of yellows and oranges but a beautiful woman, riding triumphantly in her chariot, galloping across the sky. Nothing in a mortal’s pallet could approximate the vivacity, the pure radiance of the light her sister wore when she made her daily journey across the heavens.

 Katniss stared overlong at the magic that unfolded, drawn like a moth to an incandescent flame. She did not realize how close she’d gotten to Peeta until her elbow brushed against his, causing him to freeze mid brush stroke.

 He cast a glance around him, searching for the source of the interruption. Katniss, in her stead, did not trust herself to move even a hair, for fear he would discover her. He set the brush down, his face tightening in wariness.

 “Show yourself,” he demanded.

 Katniss stared at him unmoving, unable to tear her attention from the way the wind lifted his ashy-blond locks. She thrilled at the idea that he sought her, even if he did not know her identity.

 He swept the air suddenly, his fingers brushing her shoulder. She could tear herself away, dissolve into the ground, transport herself to her chariot and race with silent fury down into the depths of her kingdom. But she became aware of another desire, one she had been nursing in her heart since the moment she saw him on the hillock, at the side of his father. She was a master of lurking among humans and immortals alike but what she really wanted was to be discovered. She longed to be found by him.

 With an act of will, she shed her helmet of invisibility and allowed him to look at her.

 Her sudden appearance forced him to take a step back, causing him to nearly collide with his easel.  But it was the effect of only a moment, and he recovered quickly.  He took her in completely, from head to toe, and she tolerated his appraisal of her, allowing his eyes to roam over her face, her body, even her scepter. His scrutiny made her blood quicken and it was all she could do to not pant noisily before him.

 “Goddess,” he said finally.

 “Not Goddess,” she said, steadying her voice. “Katniss. And I’ve been watching you.”

 End Act I

 A million thanks to my betas and support. To @eala-musings, who is always ready to help read what I write and do her very best to fix the messes I make. To the incredible @katnissdoesnotfollowback, who remembered when I toyed with the idea of this fic almost 2 years ago.  She lent her significant betaing ability to the editing of this story and, in particular, the nuances and details relating to Greek Mythology as well as helping me keep track of the genderbending taking place in this story.

 I have to also thank my best friend and banner-maker, @akai-echo, who is my creative partner in crime. She manages to visualize what I write and turn it into gorgeous banners that are brilliantly made.

 Note about mythology:

 My interpretation of the Persephone/Hades myth that sees her complicit in her abduction. This is obviously not the myth everyone knows but it is actually one version of a myth that exists in some form or another throughout every culture. I was heavily influenced by the poem, “Persephone the Wanderer” by Louisa Glück, found in her collection, Averno.

 To cast this story, I had to try to match innate qualities of THG characters with roles they would be most associated with. In some cases, I had to fudge things. Therefore, Prim, as Apollo, would also exercise the aspect of healing, Madge as Hermes, is not only the messenger of the gods, but also serves as escort to the spirits of the dead. The most glaring “miscast” is Gale as Thanatos and not as Artemis but had I gone that route, I would have lost my Gadge and I do love Gadge so very much! Plus, I love putting Thresh in strong roles wherever I can and he fits my idea of a male Artemis very much :).

 Music inspiration is various. I'm a huge fan of covers and have recently discovered Chase Holfelder. I love his rendition of Every Breath You Take and I Want You to Want Me.

 I’ve given a good listen to Taylor Swift’s and Zane’s I Don’t Wanna Live Forever, Rihanna’s Skin and a throwback to the 90’s with Avril Lavigne’s When You’re Gone.