#and Katniss took a while to notice but now she and Haymitch keep track of all the paintings

[fangirlerastour]

In my head, Peeta teaches Effie to paint and then whenever Haymitch is out she starts to paint little stars or flowers or sunsets or whatever around the house in hidden corners, on cupboard doors, under the table etc and doesn’t tell Haymitch to see how long it takes him to notice. What she doesn’t know is Haymitch spots them after like the second painting but doesn’t tell her because he doesn’t want her to stop doing them

[javistg]

A Second Chance CH 3.

It’s been almost two years since I posted Chapter 2 but Chapter 3 is finally ready!

I want to dedicate this chapter to @mega-aulover, @567inpanem, @katnissdoesnotfollowback, @hutchhitched, @justajjfan, @thegirlfromoverthepond, @booksrockmyface, @albinokittens300, @animekpopxx, @alliswell21, @alwayseverlark, @nightlock-1989, @katnissmeowverdeen, @mandelion82, @norbertsmom, @rosegardeninwinter, @everybirdfellsilent, @thelettersfromnoone, @mrspeetamellark, @taylerwrites, @ameliaodair, @everlark-always, @emilia206 and everyone else who joined this year’s @everlarkficexchange. 

Thank you all for bringing inspiration back into my inbox, for reminding me of how fun it is to create something and to share it with this wonderful fandom.

Also, @theeverlarkingmoose this chapter is for you. Your words of encouragement made me want to go back and re-read what I had written. Everything started falling in place after that ❤️ 

Based on prompt 110: A time travel AU: Katniss from Mockingjay, (any part of the book, it's up to you), winds up back the day before her sister's first reaping. What does she do now that she knows what's coming? Now that she knows how Peeta feels about her, and she knows how desperately she needs him, and what they could share? What on earth could she, or should she, even do/change? And what is she should lose it all again? [submitted by @wingletblackbird For EFE 2019]

To read from the beginning, you can go to AO3 or FF.net

CHAPTER 3.

The tribute train speeds along, silently hovering over the tracks on its way to the Capitol.

Alone in her compartment, Katniss cries. The hope and joy from the previous day are gone. Sorrow and defeat fill her heart as she sits on the bed.

Clutching a bag full of frosted cookies against her chest, she tries to come to terms with the fact that the unthinkable has happened again.

Covering her eyes from the glaring summer sun, an effervescent Effie Trinket walked onto the stage and pulled Prim's name out of a giant glass bowl.

For the second time in her life, Katniss stepped forward and volunteered to take her sister's place.

The crowd parted to let her through. Prim cried. Gale carried her away.

A silent District 12 saluted their tribute. Haymitch interrupted the proceedings with his drunken antics, and a rattled Effie called out Peeta's name.

After finishing the Treaty of Treason, the mayor prompted the tributes to shake hands.

Sorrow, pain, and an unexpected dash of hope danced in Peeta's eyes as he looked straight at her and gently squeezed her hand. Comforted by the gesture she no longer confused with a nervous spasm, Katniss squeezed back.

The goodbyes at the Justice Building were just as bad as she remembered them.

Katniss had thought it would be easier. She had imagined that knowing she had a real shot at coming back would help her be more convincing, more generous.

She wanted to be kinder to her mother --who had already proven she was strong enough to keep on going while Katniss was away-- and to leave her sister with a sense of certainty, with a bit of hope to cling to.

But, as soon as Prim started crying, Katniss's fears took over, and her resolutions melted as quickly as a blanket of snow.

In the end, history repeated itself, and Katniss used up most of her time going over all the practical stuff Prim and her mother needed to know. Right before the Peacekeepers barged in, the three Everdeen women hugged and promised, once again, that they would try their best.

Once her family left, Mr. Mellark delivered his cookies. The baker was just as quiet this time around, but Katniss didn't mind. Instead of fretting over his intentions, she was grateful for his generosity and kindness.

The door opened again, and Madge came in like a whirlwind, holding out the mockingjay pin and talking about district tokens.

"I'll bring it back," Katniss promised as her friend leaned in to fix the bird to her dress.

Madge kissed her friend's cheek. "I'm counting on that."

Madge had barely left the room when Gale walked in.

His eyes were dark and stormy, but when he opened his arms, she walked straight into them.

Their breakfast that morning hadn't been as pleasant as the one she remembered. Instead of joking around and talking about escaping into the woods, Gale had been surly and quiet.  

To Katniss's relief, he hadn't mentioned Peeta or her stroll around the Meadow the previous afternoon. It didn't matter. His contribution to the meal, a day-old tesserae grain roll that could have only come from the Hob, spoke louder than any words ever could.

Gale Hawthorne hadn't been in the mood to stop by the bakery that morning.  

"Listen," he said, stepping away from their embrace to look at her face. "Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you've got to get your hands on a bow. That's your best chance."

Katniss smiled. There he was, her friend, her partner, the man who was willing to put his own feelings aside, like he'd done in Thirteen, to help and support her.

No matter what, Gale had her back. Even if he wasn't thrilled with her right now, he would keep her family safe.

"You know how to kill," Gale insisted as they discussed strategies.

"Not people," she muttered.

"How different can it be, really?" A grim remark uttered in a moment of despair. She had never liked it but, after surviving two arenas, it made her furious.

"It's incredibly different!" Katniss yelled. Anger and dread danced in her veins as she remembered where she was headed to. "I'd be killing a person, Gale! A person! I'd be erasing their thoughts, their dreams, their—,"

"Listen," Gale grabbed her by the shoulders, "Catnip, you can't think that way. Not in the arena. You need to remember, only one comes out, right?"

Only one. The words were oddly familiar. Numb, Katniss nodded.

"Say it,” he pressed.

"They have to have a victor," Katniss whispered. Looking up into Gale's silver eyes, she repeated, "Only one comes out."

"That's it, and you can be the one. You can be the one who comes home, back to Prim, back to your mother. Because that's all that matters, right? They are all that matters."

"Right."

Pulling her back into his arms, Gale lowered his head to her ear and whispered, "You can do this, Katniss. Just… promise me, you won't let anyone distract you."

Anyone. He meant Peeta, of course. But Peeta wasn’t a distraction, he was her mission.

Clinging to his embrace to soak up his warmth, she promised, “I won’t.”  

A Peacekeeper walked in.

Always the nonconformist, Gale asked for more time. He was granted none.

"Don't let them starve!" Katniss cried out, panicked, as her friend was escorted out of the room.

"I won't!" Gale vowed. "You know I won't!"

XXXXX




By the time Effie comes to collect her for supper, Katniss's tears have dried up.




Resigned to her fate, Katniss follows her escort through the narrow, rocking corridor into the dining room where Peeta sits, waiting for them.




At the sight of him, Katniss's breath hitches. This is the Peeta she knows best. Capitol clothes, winning smile, and a touch of… heartbreak in his eyes.




That wasn't there earlier, Katniss thinks. What happened? As Peeta's eyes flit away, she suddenly remembers. His mother.




Yes, Mrs. Mellark just told her youngest son that he's not good enough to come back from the arena.  




She wants to run to his side, to wrap her arms around him, press a kiss on his forehead, and soothe his pain away.




She wishes with all her heart that she could tell him that the Witch and her bitterness don't matter, but she can't. Instead, she bites her lip, takes the empty chair by his side, and waits for Effie to start giving instructions.




The supper comes in courses. The starter, a thick carrot soup, is followed by a green salad.




Katniss is reaching for the platter with the lamb chops and mashed potatoes when Peeta leans into her side and casually says, "So… when you said you'd be at the back…"




Surprised, Katniss glances back at him. The teasing glint in his eyes brings a smile to her lips. "I guess I meant the front," she says, stabbing a lamb chop with her fork and dropping it on her plate. With a coy shrug, she adds, "I confuse them sometimes."




Peeta's retort is interrupted by Effie's shrill voice. "Oh! Are you two friends?"




Katniss freezes, but Peeta quickly comes to her rescue. "Not really," he says, ladling a dollop of mashed potatoes on his plate, "we go to school together, that's all."




Effie takes this news with a polite nod. Just as they're about to finish the main course, she speaks again. "At least, you two have decent manners," she says. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."




Katniss narrows her eyes. Over the last couple of years, she's come to appreciate Effie, but her comment still disgusts her. So, once again, she makes a point of eating the rest of her meal with her fingers and wiping her hands on the tablecloth when she's done.




Bewildered, Effie straightens up in her chair, pursing her pink lips in shocked disapproval.




Good, Katniss thinks with a satisfied smirk. Things are just as they should be.

XXXXX




Katniss's first day in the Capitol is almost an exact replica of her previous one.




Her prep team scrubs and strips every inch of her body, removing all her hair and leaving her like a plucked bird, ready for roasting.




Later, when Cinna walks into the room, Katniss rolls her hands into tight fists and, somehow, manages to stop herself from lunging into his arms.




XXXXX




The carriage ride around the City Circle is a huge success.  




While Portia is busy extinguishing the last of the artificial flames, Katniss reluctantly lets go of Peeta's hand.




"Thanks for keeping hold of me," says Peeta massaging his hand, "I was getting a little shaky there."  




"It didn't show," Katniss tells him. "I'm sure no one noticed."




"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you," he replies, looking boldly into her eyes, "You should wear flames more often. They suit you."




Then, he does it again. He flashes her that smile, the one she knows he saves just for her, genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness.




Warmth rushes through her, and she bites her lip to keep from smiling too widely. She used to feel so vulnerable whenever this happened --like Peeta was in control, and she couldn't trust herself around him-- but she knows better now. Peeta's not trying to manipulate her, he's just paying her a compliment, and he's damned good at it!




No warning bells go off. No thoughts of hidden agendas, or strategies, or games cross Katniss's mind. Only joy and affection propel her as she stands on tiptoe and kisses his cheek, right on his bruise.




XXXXX




When Katniss notices the red-headed Avox at the dinner table later that night, she doesn't even flinch.




With watchful eyes, she follows the girl's movements and tries not to think about Darius —or the way he looked at her the last time they saw each other in that same room.




Taking a bite of her cake, Katniss glances back at Peeta and wonders —just for an instant— if he ever saw what Effie called the "matching set" while Snow kept him captive.




The thought is too painful to even consider, so she stops poking at it and goes back to the conversation around the table.




Later, as she lies in bed looking at images of a slow trickling stream projected on her wall, she silently berates herself for her silence. Her original reaction hadn't really hurt anyone, but it had led to Peeta covering for her and showing her the rooftop garden.




She longs to go there now. It's the only place where she can breathe, and she's sure Peeta's there already, looking down unto the Capitol skyline. But how can she join him when no one in this timeline has shown her the way?




The answer is so simple it makes her laugh. The terrace isn't exactly hidden, and Peeta knows she's an illegal hunter who sneaks under an electrified fence every day. He won't question her if she says she just stumbled upon it while exploring the apartment.




Katniss steps into the cool, windy evening air. Twelve floors down, the Capitol twinkles like a vast field of fireflies. It's a familiar sight by now, but it still fills her with wonder.




Peeta's already there, standing by the railing at the edge of the roof. His eyes widen when he sees her approach.




"How did you find this place?" Katniss asks, trying her best to sound surprised.




"Cinna showed me," Peeta says. "You?"




"I did some exploring."




Katniss reaches his side, and they both turn to look out onto the skyline.

"You can practically see the whole city," Peeta says.




They stand there for a few minutes, enjoying the show of flickering lights, listening to the wind chimes behind them and the noises from the city below.




They're standing so close together that she can feel the warmth radiating off of him. A little closer and I would smell his scent, she thinks, hoping she could wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his shirt.




"A penny for your thoughts," Peeta asks.




Startled out of her reverie, Katniss laughs, "A penny? Is that the going rate in town?"




Peeta shrugs. "I guess. It's just something my grandmother used to say."




She's heard this before, back on their victory tour, but she still asks, "Which grandmother?"




"Grandma Mellark. She had tons of sayings, one for every occasion. She died when I was ten, but I still remember some of them." After a short pause, he asks, "How about you? Do you remember your grandparents?"




"No. I never met them."




Peeta turns towards her. The earnest curiosity dancing in his eyes tugs at her heart. "Never?"




Katniss shakes her head. "I know my mother's parents ran the apothecary up until a few years ago, but we never went there. I might have seen them on the street, but…"




"And on your father's side?"




"They both died before I was born. I don't know much about them, just that they knew a lot about plants and that my grandmother loved music. My dad used to say that she could remember any song after only hearing it once and that she had a beautiful voice."




Peeta's hushed words are almost lost in the din of the wind chimes, but they reach her all the same. "Just like yours."




She's about to contradict him but, when she looks up, her mind goes blank. Peeta's looking back at her with a tenderness and warmth that still haunts her dreams.

“I don’t sing,” she hears herself say.




"But you used to,” Peeta says, “back when we were little.”




It's almost like being back in the cave. Her skin tingles, her heart soars.

Flustered, Katniss asks, "You remember that?"




Peeta looks away. His cheeks turn beet red as he softly admits, "I do."  

Her heart's hammering madly against her rib cage now.

For an instant, she thinks he's going to tell her the story again, the one about their first day of school and the teacher asking her to sing; but he does no such thing.

Keeping his eyes on the horizon, Peeta straightens up and pushes himself away from her and the railing.




Disappointed, Katniss turns away.

Deep down, she's also relieved. As much as she wants to regain the closeness she once shared with Peeta, she knows they're not ready yet.




Unlike her, Peeta doesn't know what their future holds. He likes her well enough, but they're training for the Games. He still needs to keep his distance from his district partner.




Satisfied that she's done plenty for one night, Katniss stretches her arms over her head and fakes a yawn. "We should get some rest," she says.




"Yeah. Tomorrow's going to be a big, big, big day!"




Katniss laughs. Peeta's impersonation of their escort has always been pitch-perfect.




They climb the stairs together. When they reach the corridor that leads up to their rooms, Peeta whispers, "Good night, Katniss."




The words wrap around her heart, soothing her like no morphling ever did. She's still savoring them when she whispers back, "Good night, Peeta."




XXXXX




It's a little before ten when Katniss and Peeta step out of the elevator and into the Training Center. The other tributes are already there gathered in a circle around Atala, the head trainer.




As soon as the tall woman starts to talk, Katniss tunes her out. She's heard the little speech twice already. She doesn't need to listen to it again.




Beside her, Peeta lets out a small sigh.




He's frustrated, Katniss thinks. She considers reaching out to squeeze his hand but stops herself, knowing that Peeta probably won’t welcome the gesture right now.

She can’t blame him, not after the morning they've had.




The discussion over their individual skills at breakfast had been slightly less contentious this time around, but not by much.




After mentioning Katniss’s abilities, Peeta had still brought up his mother's hurtful parting words.




Katniss had been less cagey. She had managed to keep the bread incident out of the conversation, but Peeta's comment about the effect she had on people had —once again— raised her hackles. Not because she had felt insulted, lile the first time, but because she’d been reminded of everything she’d lost.




As she saw the old Peeta willing to give his life for her, she couldn’t help but think of the other version of him; the version she had left behind in District 13. That Peeta hated her. He had gone through hell and back to be with her and now he wanted her dead.




Who knows? She bitterly told herself after Haymitch dismissed them. Maybe this magical effect of mine doesn't last very long. Maybe, one day, the whole country will wake up and hate me too.




XXXXX




While Atala reads down the list of the skill stations, Katniss can't keep her eyes from flitting around the room.




Marvel. Clove. Cato. Fox-face. Thresh. Rue.




Her chest tightens. These are the faces that haunt her dreams. The voices that echo in her nightmares.




Katniss bites her lip to keep from screaming. Her palms are clammy, her heart is racing, but she doesn't move an inch.




This is the hardest thing she's had to do so far, and she needs to get it right. She can't let the others see her distress.




Slowly averting her eyes, she reminds herself, My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My home is District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. The Capitol hates me, but I came back.




Katniss breathes. In. Out. In. Out.




Her heart rate is almost back to normal when she finishes. I came back to make Snow pay.




She's still lost in her thoughts when Peeta nudges her arm and makes her jump.




His expression is sober. "Where would you like to start?"




Katniss looks around at the Career Tributes who are already showing off, clearly trying to intimidate the field. Then at the others, the underfed, the incompetent, shakily having their first lessons with a knife or an ax.




"Suppose we tie some knots," she says.




"Right you are," says Peeta.




XXXXX




They spend their morning trying out different skills.




Now that she knows what type of arena awaits her, Katniss realizes that the stations are full of clues. The kinds of ropes they use at the knot-tying class. The mud, clay, and berry juices available in the camouflage section. They all seem so obvious now that she knows they'll be going to a forest.




When they reach the medicinal plants' section, Katniss stops short. The last time she was here, she practically skipped it, but she's on a different mission now, so she walks in and makes sure Peeta follows.




A big screen shows pictures of plants with a brief description underneath.




Katniss flips through the crisp images until she finds what she's looking for: the leaves Rue used to treat her.




"These are great!" she enthusiastically tells Peeta. "They fight off infection, bring down swelling, and numb the pain. They're handy when you've been stung by insects or bees. You have to chew them up into a pulp and spit them on top of your wound."




Peeta wrinkles his nose. "Spit them?"




"Yeah," Katniss confirms, "Otherwise, you won't release their properties. My mother would use other methods, but…" Lowering her voice, she adds, "Sometimes you don't have a lot of options when you're out in the woods."




Apparently satisfied with her answer, Peeta nods. After glancing around to make sure no one is listening, he whispers, "Have you been stung many times?"




"Only twice," Katniss admits, "I immediately pulled the stingers out and put the leaves on top. It wasn't so bad."




Peeta's eyes are locked on the screen as he says, "Maybe I should stuff my pockets with these if I ever find any in the arena. You know? Just in case."




"It won't hurt," Katniss agrees, holding on to the hope that he will do just that.




XXXXX




On the second night of her training, Katniss decides to go back to the rooftop.




Peeta is already there. He's sitting on a bench by the flower beds with a sketchpad propped up against his bent knee. The little bundle of pencils she gave him back in District Twelve rests by his side.




She can tell he's distracted, so she clears her throat to make her presence known.




"Hey!" Peeta calls out. He looks tired, but his smile is sweet and welcoming.




"Mind if I join you?" she asks.




Peeta pats the empty seat next to him, and Katniss walks over.  




A small sigh escapes her as she sits down. Her daytime routine hasn't been as tiring this time around, but she's still beat.




"Nice pad," she says.




"It's Portia's," Peeta runs his fingers along the edge of the paper in a reverent caress. "She said I could borrow it."




Anticipating her next question, Peeta tilts the pad in her direction.




Katniss gasps. The angle of the image is one she cannot place, but there's no doubt in her mind, Peeta has painted her woods.




Reaching for the corner of the pad so as not to smudge his drawing, she asks, "Where is this?"




"It's the view from my house."




Katniss narrows her eyes, the bakery is in the center of town, but Peeta hasn't included any buildings in his picture. "Your house?"




"There's an attic that we use for storage. I like to go up there sometimes. It's higher than most buildings in the district, so you get to see all the way out into the woods."




Katniss stares at the drawing and tells herself not to cry, but it's not easy. Not when Prim and District Twelve are so far away, not when Peeta is opening up to her in ways he never did before.




"Do you like it?" Peeta asks.




The nervous tremor in his voice tugs at her heart; she reaches for his arm and gives him a reassuring squeeze. "Of course I do! Peeta, it's extraordinary! Prim's right. You're very talented."




Peeta shakes his head and accepts the compliment with a quiet, "Thank you."




Letting go of him, Katniss settles in her seat, resting her back against the wall and stretching her legs. Nodding to his pad, she says, "Go on. Don't let me interrupt."




Peeta starts drawing again.




Katniss watches, mesmerized, as his hand dances over the paper, making the blank page bloom with delicate strokes of color.




They stay like that for a while, side by side on the bench, wrapped in peaceful silence, enjoying each other's presence and silently wishing for more time.




XXXXX




As soon as the anthem is over, Katniss makes a beeline out of the Training Center lobby and onto the elevator bank. Moving swiftly, she veers into a car that does not contain Peeta.




The crowd slows the entourages of stylists and mentors and chaperones. Soon, Katniss finds herself alone with only other tributes for company. No one speaks.




The elevator stops to deposit four tributes before she's alone. One quick breath is all she has time for before the doors open on the twelfth floor.




Peeta has only just stepped from his car when she slams her palms into his chest and pushes him towards the wall.




Peeta loses his balance, but the wall breaks his fall. A few inches away from him, an ugly urn filled with fake flowers stands on its pedestal, untouched.  




With Peeta safely out of harm's way, Katniss grabs the urn and smashes it on the floor, shattering it into hundreds of tiny pieces.




Good, she thinks as she takes a step back, I've always hated the damned thing.




"What was that for?" Peeta says, aghast.




"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" Katniss yells at him.




Before Peeta can say anything, the elevators open, and the whole crew is there, Effie, Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia.




"What's going on?" says Effie, a note of hysteria in her voice as she notices the broken urn and Peeta slumped form against the wall. "Did you trip?”




"No," says Peeta pushing himself off the wall to straighten up, "Katniss broke it after she shoved me."




Haymitch turns on Katniss. "Shoved him?"




"This was your idea, wasn't it?" Katniss answers, "Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?"




"It was my idea," Peeta cuts in. "Haymitch just helped me with it."




The hurt in his eyes guts her, but she can't back down now. This is how she reacted the first time around, and as hard as it is, she knows she has to stick with it.




"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" she yells.




"You are a fool," Haymitch says in disgust. "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something you could never achieve on your own."




"He made me look weak!" Katniss says.




"He made you look desirable! And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were about as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they're talking about. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!" says Haymitch.




"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" she says.




Haymitch grabs her shoulders and pins her against the wall. "Who cares? It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived…"




As Haymitch prattles on about sponsors, Katniss tunes out. She doesn't need to be convinced of anything. She already knows their strategy is the right one.  




As soon as Cinna steps into the conversation, Katniss softens. "I should have been told, so I didn't look so stupid," she grumbles.




"No, your reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real," says Portia.




"She's just worried about her boyfriend," says Peeta gruffly, eyes locked on the shattered urn.




Katniss fixes him with a deadly glare. "I don't have a boyfriend."




"Whatever," says Peeta. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Besides, you didn't say you loved me. So what does it matter?"




As the words sink in, an old familiar darkness envelops her. This, right here, is what has caused so much pain between them.




Even after all this time and everything they've been through, she has never been able to tell Peeta how she feels about him. Just as she's never told Gale that he's nothing more than a dear friend.




This silence, this reticence, has hurt Peeta over and over again. It's the reason why he pushed her away after their first Game and why President Snow was able to twist his mind and convince him that she was a mutt programmed to kill him.




I need to do better, she thinks. This time around, I need to do more.




Feeling all eyes on her, Katniss turns to Cinna and asks, "After he said he loved me, did you think I could be in love with him, too?"




"I did," says Portia. "The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush."




The others chime in, agreeing.




"You're golden, sweetheart," Haymitch adds. "You're going to have sponsors lined up around the block."




Worried that she's going to burst out in tears, she forces herself to acknowledge Peeta. "I'm sorry I shoved you."




"Doesn't matter," he shrugs. "The urn got it worse."




Portia and Cinna's goodnatured laughter diffuses the remaining tension.




"Come on, let's eat," says Haymitch directing everyone towards the delicious smells wafting in from the dining room.




XXXXX




The roof is not lit at night, but as soon as her bare feet reach its tiled surface, she sees his silhouette, black against the lights that shine endlessly in the Capitol.




There's quite a commotion going on down in the streets, music and singing and car horns. Katniss knows she could slip away now without Peeta noticing her; he wouldn't hear her over the din, but that's not what she wants.




Her feet move soundlessly across the tiles. She's only a yard behind him when she says, "You should be getting some sleep."




Peeta starts but doesn't turn, just gives his head a slight shake. "I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all."




She comes up beside him and leans over the edge of the rail. The wide streets are full of dancing people. Squinting to get a better look at them, she asks, "Are they in costumes?"




"Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here." Turning to her, he asks, "Couldn't sleep, either?"




"Couldn't turn my mind off," she says.




"Thinking about your family?"




"Not exactly," she admits a bit guiltily. After going through two arenas, she's not as worried about Prim and her mother as she once was. She knows they can cope without her. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course."




Facing him, she says, "I really am sorry about before."




"It doesn't matter, Katniss," Peeta says.




"I was just upset that you would share something private like that…"




Peeta nods. "I know."




"And, also… I just don't get it. I mean, why would you give me an advantage like that? You're going to need sponsors too, you know?"




Peeta shakes his head. "It won't make a difference. I've never been a contender in these Games. Not really."




Katniss reaches for his hand. "Peeta, that's no way to be thinking."




"Why not? It's true." With the gentlest of touches, Peeta runs his fingers over the back of Katniss's hand. "My best hope is to not disgrace myself and . . ." he hesitates.




With a small squeeze, she silently encourages him to continue.




"I don't know how to say it exactly," Peeta finally says. "Only . . . I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?"




Katniss swallows thickly.




Once upon a time, she stood there and told him that she didn't understand and —most importantly— that she didn't care. But she's a different person now. She knows exactly what he means and why it matters.




Although she knows what he's getting at, she still needs him to complete his thought. Shyly, she asks, "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?"




"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games," says Peeta.




Her chest tightens at his words. Being back in that moment with him reminds her of everything that’s gone wrong in her life.

Before her mind can wander back into the dark recesses of her pain, she says, "The thing is, Peeta, you're not. None of us are. That's how the Games work."




"OK, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me," he insists. "Don't you see?"




Katniss nods. She sees, she knows, she understands. What's more, she still can't believe she was ever so blind.




She inches closer to him so he can hear her over the ruckus of the city and the wind chimes.




In her mind, she repeats the little speech she's prepared for this moment. Every year they throw us in an arena and tell us to kill each other, and we do it. But there's a part, deep inside of us, that they don't own, a part that refuses to be pushed around and that will stand up and say, "enough, this is a line I won't cross."




But, once she opens her mouth, the words that slip from her lips are quite different, "I don't have a boyfriend."




Peeta blinks. Once. Twice. "What?"




Katniss bursts out laughing. "I'm sorry, I just…" Bewildered, she covers her face to hide her embarrassment and silently reprimand herself for losing her focus.




With a shake of her head, she straightens up. Her earnest eyes meet Peeta's. "I get what you're saying. They are forcing us to fight for our lives, but they don't get to decide how we go about it, right? We do. At the end of the day, it's up to us. We choose who to attack and who to help, when to face danger and when to hide. "




Peeta nods. "Right." Looking out into the sprawling city, he adds, "I just hope I can make the right choices, you know?"




Katniss sighs. “Yeah, me too.”




Leaning against the railing, Peeta tilts his head to look at her. The playful glint in his eyes is something she hasn't seen in a very long time. "So, you don't have a boyfriend."




Katniss shakes her head, chuckling at the absurdity of the topic.




"What about the guy who took your sister away at the reaping?"




"That's Gale."




"Uh-huh," Peeta's head bobs up and down as he nods. "And Gale is…"




Katniss looks up at him. He's so open, so pure, right now that all her thoughts about plans and strategies melt away. "He's just a friend," she says.




Peeta's smile forms slowly, warm and genuine, a little flirty even. It makes her whole body tingle. "Just a friend, huh? Does he know that?"




Katniss's jaw goes slack. Back in the day, she would have answered with a resounding "yes, of course, he does" but, that answer doesn't really fit the situation. She knows that now. So, instead of throwing her righteous indignation at him, she asks, "What do you mean?"




Peeta shrugs. "I don't know. It's just… I thought you had something with him."




Genuinely intrigued, she asks, "Why?"




"Um," Peeta fills his lungs with crisp Capitol air. As he pushes it out, he says, "You seem to spend a lot of time together. Whenever I see you around town, you're either with him or with Prim. I used to think he was your cousin or something. You favor each other. But then... there was the look."




Katniss frowns. "The look?"




"Yeah." Peeta's shy smile makes another appearance. "He kept glaring at me the other day when we met up by the Meadow." The shocked expression on her face makes him chuckle. "I'm surprised you didn't notice."




"Well," Katniss reaches for the end of her messy braid and begins twisting it around her finger. "I wasn't focusing on him."




Peeta's lips part, but no words come out.




Blushing, Katniss turns to face the city again. "Gale and I hunt together. Our families are close. That's it."




Peeta's gentle touch on her elbow gets her attention. Kind, soft eyes gaze straight into hers when he says, "You know, Katniss, what I said earlier—,"




Impulsively, she leans forward and kisses him, stopping his words.




It takes Peeta half a second to react. In one fluid move, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her to him.




His lips meld with hers in a slow, sweet dance.  




After months of pain and sorrow, Katniss finally feels joy. Closing her eyes, she forgets the world and kisses him with abandon.




Peeta's free hand makes its way to the back of her head, where he buries his fingers in her hair to keep her there, rooted in his arms, anchored to him.




Elated, Katniss hums her approval.




This kiss is like the cave and the beach all rolled into one. It's like every happy moment they've ever shared together, every smile, every touch. It's like coming home after a long day, like finding her soul.




That familiar stirring inside her chest, warm and curious, comes back to life. It fills her entire being with want and need, pushing her to explore more. Blindly, she follows.




Holding on to his broad shoulders, Katniss pulls him even closer, pressing herself against his chest until she can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, beating against her own.

Smiling, Peeta begins raining kisses over her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.




Her skin tingles. Her pulse races. Her heart soars.




I'll keep you safe, she promises, holding on to him like she did back at the beach, back when they were surrounded by mutts and enemies and lies.

With one long sigh, Peeta finally pulls away, pressing his forehead to hers while they both catch their breaths.

In that brief moment of glorious harmony only one thought goes through her mind. Peeta. Every heartbeat is like a reminder. He's back, he's here, he's mine.

Glancing up, she finds his eyes, dark and dazed, and she knows. Whatever this is, Peeta feels it too. He always has.  




"Katniss—,"




"No," she interrupts again, placing her fingers on his lips to quiet him. She hates what she's about to do, but she doesn't have a choice.




She takes a step away from him and immediately feels lost. "You have a plan for tomorrow, right?"




Peeta's face falls at the sudden reminder of why they're there. He nods.




Reaching forward, Katniss brushes the hair back from his forehead in one last tender caress. "That's what you need to focus on, OK? Just think about—,"




"Staying alive?" Peeta finishes, a crooked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.  




Katniss cups his cheek. "Exactly." Her heart skips a beat when he leans into her touch, but she still insists, "This doesn't change anything that happens tomorrow, Peeta. It can't."




"I know," he says, covering her hand with his and pressing a kiss to her palm. "It just changes everything that's happened until today."




Katniss bites her lip and nods. Peeta's right. Even for her, things are dramatically different now. There's so much more at stake. She knows where they stand, and she's no longer running away from him and the things he makes her feel.




Rising to the tips of her toes, she kisses him one last time. "See you tomorrow," she says.




Then, she walks away.

[talesofpanem]

On the Wednesday Train

Author: @xerxia31

Rating: K

Summary: The Wednesday train brings a visitor from Katniss’s past, but she’s not ready to see him.

I sit on the porch swing Peeta made last fall, reading and re-reading the few simple lines scrawled on the thick Capitol paper trembling in my hands. I want to see you. And from the one person I never thought would write them.

It’s been more than five years since the end of the rebellion, more than five years since I killed Coin, more than five years since I was exiled to District Twelve. More than five years since I’ve seen my former best friend. 

More than five years since he killed my baby sister.

Behind me, our cottage door creaks open on hinges that I mentally remind myself to oil. “Are you hungry?” Peeta’s voice is low, tentative. He knows what’s in the letter, was beside me when I opened it. But like always, he’s giving me the space to come to terms with its contents on my own, no pressure. Peeta never pressures me into anything. I glance over my shoulder at him and he smiles softly. “Dinner is ready, if you want.”

I toss the letter onto the table that rests just inside the door as I follow my husband into the cozy little home we built together a couple of years ago. If the past five years have taught me anything, it’s that I can now afford to think before I act. I don’t have to answer the letter now.

I don’t have to answer the letter ever.

—–

It takes a month.

A month of thinking. Of reliving that awful day in the city circle, of nightmares and tears and hours spent staring into the void. Of missing Prim so much that my very bones ache with it. 

A month of long walks in the forest. Of reliving those quiet moments of innocence, of brotherhood, of shared responsibility but also shared triumph, so sweet in memory but gone forever.

A month of yelling and of whispered conversations. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to see him,” I confess one night, long after we’ve gone to bed. We’re on top of the sheets in deference to the heat, a faint breeze wafting through the open window to alight on sweat-sheened skin.

“You’re strong enough to do anything,” Peeta reminds me. “And you don’t have to do it alone.” He’s right, of course. There aren’t many in District 12, even still. But the few of us who are here have built a community together. Our friends, our family of choice if not by birth.

“He hurt me.” There are so many more layers to my fear, my reluctance to see Gale again. But the simplest truth is that Gale’s actions hurt me terribly, irreparably.

“I know,” Peeta says, tracing soothing circles on the scarred skin of my belly. “But he loved you too.”

-----

He arrives on the Wednesday train, which surprises me. I’d thought a fancy government job in District Two would have afforded him the means to travel via hovercraft, or maybe even private car. Instead, Gale is taking a train along the same tracks that twice hurtled Peeta and me towards certain death.

We don’t meet him at the station. I pace our porch until the train whistle echoes through the district. Then I switch to pacing our small living room.

Peeta, though outwardly calm, has covered our kitchen table with baked goods, the scents of hot yeast and sugar filling our home even with all of the windows flung wide. He’s sheepish, but I know how keeping his hands and mind busy helps him fight off the false memories that still plague him from time to time, memories that so often involve Gale and me and things that never happened between us. 

And things that did.

Despite his clear inner turmoil, Peeta abandons his baking to pace with me. “What could he possibly want after all of this time?” I mutter. It’s a hypothetical question; I could have asked in my return letter weeks earlier but I didn’t. I only wrote ‘okay’, and left it at that.

Peeta wraps his arms around me and kisses my temple. “I don’t know, love,” he says, the same answer he’s given me every time I’ve asked. “But we’ll find out soon enough.”

I know the district like the back of my hand, know exactly how long it takes to walk from the train station to the little cottage Peeta and I built about a half mile from where the fence once stood. That span comes and goes, and then a second of equal length. Peeta and I stop pacing, and eventually move out onto our porch, settling into the swing together, his arm still holding me steady, my head now settled onto his shoulder. “Maybe he changed his mind,” I say, voicing the thought I know we’ve both had. “Or missed his connection?”

Peeta merely hums above me, a sound that could be agreement but I suspect is not, and sets the swing in motion with a push of his good leg. And he’s right, because only a few minutes later a long shadow turns down our walkway. Gale, silhouetted by the sun, strange and yet somehow familiar too.

And not alone.

Peeta’s smile is genuine and delighted as he takes in Gale’s companion, my expression is likely the confused scowl I’ve spent much of my life wearing.

She has straight black hair that bounces with each step, and wide, wary almond-shaped eyes, so dark they glisten like wet coal in the afternoon light. As Gale approaches, she tucks her face into his shoulder shyly.

“It’s good to see you,” Peeta says when my own silence has stretched too long, clomping down the porch steps while I stand frozen at the top. Gale shifts the dark haired toddler on his hip to reach for Peeta’s outstretched hand.

“It’s been a long time.” I jolt a little at Gale’s voice, just the same as it always was, and yet different too. Older. More tired.

Gale’s pint-sized companion peeks out at us again, gazing back and forth between Peeta and me, her little brow wrinkling. “And who is this?” Peeta asks, smiling at the little girl and ducking to her level. She reaches out to pat his golden curls before retreating again.

“This is Iris,” Gale says. He turns to speak directly to her. “Can you say hello?” The fondness in his voice reminds me so much of how he always used to speak to Posy, and to Prim. 

Prim.

My throat closes and heavy clouds descend over my heart. I think Peeta notices, even as distracted as he is by Iris. Peeta loves children. He’d make an incredible father, if he had a different wife. Instead, he comes back to the wife he does have, me, and wraps his arm around my shoulder again, taking some of my weight as my knees tremble.

Gale follows him up, until he’s standing just feet away for the first time in so long. Solemn grey eyes regard me cautiously. “Hey Katniss,” he says and a part of me is inexplicably saddened by the loss of the nickname I always hated. 

“Gale,” I whisper. Then nothing. We size each other up like rivals before the duel, the air between us fetid with grief and fear.

“Come inside,” Peeta encourages.

We move into the living room that bears Peeta’s touch on every surface, bright pictures on the walls and soft blankets tossed over the comfortable sofa and chairs. It’s smaller and simpler than our old houses in Victor’s Village, but palatial compared to the Seam shack where I grew up. And like all of our little house, it’s warm and welcoming, just like the man who makes gentle small talk as we settle in, asking about the trip, the weather, bringing out sweet tea and plates of baked goods. 

Gale sits on the couch with Iris on his lap and my gaze is drawn to her like a magnet. She’s perhaps two, or maybe just a bit older, and admittedly adorable, her initial shyness already fading as she looks around curiously. 

A child. Gale has a child of his own. It hits me hard, the unfairness of it. That he should have a perfect family when he stole that future from my sister. That he’s built a life when there are still days I can’t even get out of bed.

Peeta glances at Gale before asking, “Do you like cookies, Iris?” Gale grins, and Iris nods, a huge smile dimpling her plump cheeks. Peeta holds out a cookie, cinnamon, the kind I like best, and she takes it in that trusting way that most kids seem to exhibit with Peeta.

We fall quiet again. Gale bounces Iris on his knees while she messily devours a cookie, giggling and feeding him bites. She clearly adores him. And the way he looks at her fills my chest with an unfamiliar longing. Not for Gale, not even for a baby of my own. But for the contentment of a life I’ve never even wanted.

Peeta carries the conversation, telling Gale about the medicine factory that is slated to open in the fall, the influx of new people we expect will follow. Gale speaks not about his life in Two, but about the new housing going up above ground in Thirteen, now that the decontamination there is complete. 

When Peeta inquires if Gale is part of that project, he shakes his head. “My mom’s house will be in the first group. Rory is on one of the construction crews.”

“They’re not with you in Two?” I ask, the first words I’ve said since Peeta’s return. Gale stiffens, a frown tugging at his lips.

“They’re not,” he says, and ever after five years I can read his pain, hear it in his gruff voice. “But I speak with them a couple of times a month.” That surprises me, Gale was always so close to Hazelle, even when the mines, and then the war, took him away for so many hours, he still made time for her. I wonder why he hasn’t brought them to Two.

Iris is getting restless, climbing over Gale and making little whining noises. When Peeta offers to take her to feed Haymitch’s geese (“they’re much tamer than the man,” he assures Gale) I feel betrayed. I don’t want to be alone with this stranger who isn’t a stranger. So much for not having to do this alone.

Peeta takes Iris’s hand, she follows him happily. It’s quiet for many, many long moments, only the soft murmur of Peeta and Iris’s conversation floating in from the kitchen as they gather bits of stale bread for the geese, and the wind through the willows just outside my window. The front door creaks again, announcing their departure.

Then Gale and I are alone. I shift in my chair by the fireplace, across from Gale, and really look at him.

He’s well put together, nice clothing and new shoes, neatly trimmed nails with no coal dust under them. But he seems so much older than his not quite 25 years, the line between his brows a permanent feature, a weariness in his grey eyes. He regards me the same way, cataloguing the changes that five years have wrought on my own face. I know what he sees. While my face was spared in the explosion and fire all of those years ago, the burn scars that mar my arms and legs are on full display. I’m no longer self-conscious enough about them to wear long sleeves, especially in the late August heat. This is who I am, and the people of Twelve accept me, faults and all. More importantly, Peeta loves me despite everything. I have nothing to be ashamed of. And I remind myself that I have nothing to fear here either.

“How old is Iris?” I start. There are a thousand things we should be talking about, but his daughter is perhaps the easiest.

“She just turned two in April,” he says.

“You didn’t mention her.” 

He nods. “Her mother was my neighbour, in Two. She died just before Christmas. There was no one to take the baby.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “She’s not your-”

“She is my daughter,” he interrupts, voice hard. “In every way that matters.”

I’m momentarily stunned, not just by his vehemence, but that he’s taken in an orphan, and is raising her apparently alone, without her mother or his own. That’s not the Gale I remember, who cared about his family, sure, but not for strangers. He never seemed upset about the kids in the community home like I was.

“She’s why I’m here,” he admits.

“You wanted me to meet her?” He could have just sent a photograph, like Annie did when little Finn was born. 

“No, I mean, yeah, I did, but that’s not what I meant,” he stutters. I bite my tongue, giving him the space to sort out his thoughts. “Having her in my life…” he trails off, and stands, walking over to the window. I can see his pained expression reflected in the glass.

“I wanted you to know that I get it now,” he says, still facing away. “I didn’t really understand, after.” He sighs, but I stay still and silent. “I felt bad.” He shakes his head and turns to face me. I’m shocked to see his eyes are shimmering. “I feel bad, I feel fucking awful, about what I created with Beetee, what they used it for. But until Iris, I didn’t really understand. I do now.”

I frown and shake my head. Having a baby shouldn’t be necessary to understand why blowing up a bunch of kids is wrong. This is ridiculous.

“I understand,” he tries again, “that there are things more important than being right.” He tries to clear the roughness from his throat. “Back then, I was always so angry, so damned righteous. I hated being so powerless.” 

“We all did,” I remind him, anger in my voice. “Nothing makes you feel quite so powerless as seeing your little sister’s name pulled out of a giant glass bowl. Of hearing her essentially sentenced to death.”

“I know,” he says softly, though he doesn’t. The only person who really understands the scars I bear on my soul is Peeta. And maybe Haymitch, on his more lucid days. “Once the war started,” he continues, “and we were in Thirteen, well, people started giving me a little bit of that power I craved. It was a heady experience.” 

“It never felt like that for me,” I grumble. My experiences with the people of Thirteen were so different. I never felt like I was being given the power to change things. I felt like a tool, or a puppet.

“I know,” he says again. “And that should have been my first clue. You knew, you always knew, right from the beginning, that Coin was using us.” 

Gale closes his eyes, head bowed while I stare, unable to absolve him. My sister is dead, as are a lot of other kids and medics. While their deaths aren’t wholly his fault, his contribution is unforgivable, despite the pressure we were both under in Thirteen. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he whispers, as if reading my thoughts. “I just want you to know that I am so very sorry. But more than that, I understand, and I pledge to you, and to Prim, that I’m going to do everything in my power to make the world a better place.”

Honestly, that still sounds like what he thought he was doing with Thirteen, and I frown. “You don’t believe me?”

“I do.”

“But it isn’t enough?”

“I guess I don’t see how it’s any different. You’ve always wanted to change Panem, Gale. You’ve always wanted to forge ahead full speed and crush anything in your path” I expect him to get angry, to defend himself. Instead he smiles, wistfully.

“You’re right,” he says. “But it is different now. I’m different now,” he emphasizes. He turns away again, leaning on the window sill. I join him, our shoulders nearly touching as we look out over my front yard, the laneway beyond it. Victor’s Village is too far to see from my house, but when the wind blows just right I can hear the sounds of children playing on the green there. Not today, though. There’s only somber silence. “I’m trying,” he says finally, the words defeated. “I may never get it right, but I’m trying.”

“I don’t understand.” Trying to get through to me? Trying to be a good dad? I just don’t know.

“Trying to be like you. I used to think you were weak,” he says, and I bristle. “I thought your compassion was cowardice.” He faces me again, and this time his tears have spilled over, twin trails tracking down his cheeks. “But it’s the opposite. Your compassion is your strength. It’s why you both survived the Games. Why you found Peeta and nursed him back to health. Why you dragged him through the sewers instead of letting him kill himself.” He turns away and I absorb his words. Compassion. It’s a word I’ve always associated with Peeta. But maybe I have a little myself too. 

“It’s why you’re listening to me now instead of chasing me down the lane with your bow,” Gale murmurs. A reluctant smile lifts one side of my mouth. Under all the bluster, under the fancy clothes and the fancy haircut, he’s still Gale, still that boy who was once my best friend. I’m not so petulant that I can’t admit, if only to myself, that I’ve missed him.

He must see the softening of my expression because he laughs quietly and wipes his face roughly with a sleeve. He doesn’t ask me for forgiveness, which makes me glad. I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive him yet. But maybe someday. 

We watch the trees wave in the light breeze in silence that feels far more companionable until toddler squeals float through the woods, approaching. Peeta and Iris returning. Reality returning. 

“Are you okay, Katniss?” I know he means more than am I all right with him being here and the things we’ve talked about. 

“I am. We are,” I say, meaning me and Peeta. And maybe meaning Gale too. 

They stay only a few minutes longer before Gale takes his tired little girl to the boarding house where they’re spending the night. Peeta offers our spare room, but I’m not sad when Gale declines. We made progress today, but I’m not ready for anything more just yet. 

We watch their retreat from our porch, Peeta’s arm again wrapped around me. 

“You were so brave today,” Peeta says when they turn the corner and disappear from view. I nod, turning into his arms, inhaling his scent. “And so was he.”

“So was he,” I agree. 

[everlarkficexchange]

Time of Peace

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 48: Their people had a period of peace that stared to crumpled when bad choices and bad people started to destroy that. With a war in the horizon, there is only one choose to keep the peace. The chief’s daughter needs to marry the crown prince. Werewolf!Peeta Humans and wolves. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

RATED: Mature for Violence and Adult Situations

Tags and Warnings: 24k words; Werewolf!AU; Fantasy!AU; Mild Violence; Some Disturbing Imagery; Arranged Marriage; Minor Character Death; Mr. Everlark is Alive-Canon Divergence which leads to slightly OOC!Katniss; Barely there Age Gap; Brief Beastiality Discussion/Dream sequence; Smut.

Acknowledgements: Thank you to @animekpopxx for another great prompt… I think all the ones I took this time around are yours! @everlarkficexchange for hosting this event, and my incredible Beta @wingletblackbird, for your help and dedication in such short notice, you are awesome!!! Thank you to all the amazing people reading and supporting all the authors contributing to the exchange.

This is a work of fanfiction, we don’t perceive monetary gain from it. 

—————

I’m running through the woods as fast as my legs can carry me. The trees cast sinister, strange shadows all around me but I keep running, running, running while my heart beats as fast as hummingbird wings.

  Suddenly, a loud, threatening howl fills the woods; the trees seem to inch closer together, corralling me into a clearing I don’t recognize.

  There’s a rustling of leaves behind me, but there comes a time when one needs to stop running and face what’s chasing you, so I turn just in time to see the big, bulky wolf step into the clearing, blocking my way out.

  He’s taller and wider than normal wolves, but that’s to be expected. This kind only comes out to hunt during the full moon, and some say they can’t recognize friend from foe during fights.

  I retreat to the trees, looking for low branches to climb, but there’s nowhere to go. The wolf stalks me, breathing heavily, grunting lowly.

  I’m panting, looking around in case I’ve missed something that could help escape, but I see nothing useful. My father once told me one could reason with the wolves if they’re not in a voracious trance, but this one looks ravenous and it’s staring at me like I’m his next meal. I raise my hands trying to placate it, but before I can utter a word, the wolf jumps at me.

  A tunnel opens up through the dense vegetation, I run through it with the wolf hot on my heels. The beast is gaining on me, his howls deafening behind me. I trip on my feet, falling on my hands and knees. It’s no use, the wolf is on top of me.

  He tosses me around like a rag doll, until I land on my ass, hard. The wolf stalks towards me on his hind legs, like a man; his powerful thighs are covered in thick coarse hair all the way to his belly, but the strangest thing is that his genitalia is unmistakably human.

  Not just human, but completely erect and proud.

  I don’t know what comes over me, but suddenly my mouth is watering; my heart races erratically, and my breathing becomes ragged; my eyes can’t look away from his erection.

  He’s deliberately slowly approaching me, growling. His front paw lifts from his side, but it isn’t a regular lupine paw; this one has elongated fingers with opposable thumbs that end in very sharp claws. The tip of his claws barely touch my clothes, but everything falls off my body in ribbons.

  I can see the hunger in his eyes as he takes in my nakedness and my thighs part willingly for his greedy eyes. He lowers to the ground on four legs bringing his snout between my legs; his tongue peeks out of his mouth. I think he’s going to lick me right there so I shut my eyes tightly and then…

  “Katniss!”

  How odd. The wolf knows my name, but his voice is so girly.

  The world shakes under me.

  “Katniss! Katniss wake up!”

  I sit up with a loud gasp, throwing punches in the air and groaning in aggravation.

  “Katniss! Thank Father Sun you’re awake!” Says my little sister in a relieved tone.

  “Prim, what… what’s going on?” I ask groggily, trying to shake off the last tendrils of sleep out of my head.

  “You were having a nightmare.” Prim tells me with wide eyes I can barely make out in the dimness of our hut.

  I know I was having a vivid dream that left me exhausted, anxious, and disappointed, the problem is I can’t remember the dream at all.

  “Are you sure? I don’t remember anything I was dreaming of.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure it was a nightmare, since you were moaning, whining and kicking in your sleep. What else could have been?”

  “Yeah…” I concede. “You must be right, Little Duck. Thank you for waking me up.” I tell her gratefully, and then yawn mightily. “We should go back to bed—“

  “Um… actually, we can’t.” Says Prim scowling. “I think you’ve overslept as it is.”

  “What?”

  “It’s Purification Day, Katniss. Mother left about fifteen minutes ago, and told me to wake you up.”

  I groan loudly and drop back in bed. “Do I have to go?”

  “Yes! And if you don’t get up soon, Father will come home and realize you never went to the Washings.”

  I bemoan my luck and kick my wool blanket aside. I stand from my sleep roll and pull on my moccasin boots while trying to hop out the door on one foot.

  “Aren’t you going to change clothes?” My sister gives me horrified glance.

  I take a roll from the kitchen table and stuff it in my mouth. “M-no. M-haf-ta mbathe there m-nyway.” I kick the door open, rebraiding my hair.

  “Katniss,” Prim calls.

  I look at her and spot the bag swinging from her hand. My game bag, filled with a change of clothes, towels, and soaps and oils. All things my mother made me pack last night for the Washing Ceremonies today.

  “Thank you, Little Duck. You’re the best sister ever.” I tell her planting a kiss on her cheek.

  She chuckles, but then she reminds me I’m late, and my hair is still a mess.

  It’s really dark outside. Even darker than my regular hunting mornings. I sigh, and take in a mouthful of chilly air. It’s the first day of May, and spring is still cool at this time of the morning.

  I’m the only girl walking through the village, which makes my shoulders sag. If I’m the only one, then there’s no way I can pretend I was there all along, and my mother must be confusing me with some other tardy girl. I take off running, which is probably unladylike and frowned upon, especially today, but I have no other choice.

  By the time I come to the top of the hill before the river, I see my father and his second in command standing halfway between me and my mother, who’s impatiently waiting for me at the foot of the hill.

  “You’re late, Sweetheart.” Says Haymitch, my father’s oldest friend and most trusted counselor.

  “You’re sober, Haymitch.” I remark glaring at him.

  “Most be ‘hate-my-life’ day then.” He grunts.

  My mouth is forming a comeback, but my father speaks, “Hurry to your mother, Katkin. Just because you’re my daughter, doesn’t mean you’re not expected to be punctual.”

  “Yes, father.” I say contritely.

  I’m only two steps away when he calls me. “Katniss?”

  I turn to him.

  He’s smirking. “Don’t let the women wash away the calluses on your shooting fingers. I’ve invested way too much time creating those, to have them erased in one washing.”

  I grin at him, and then skip the rest of the way to meet my mother.

  “Finally!” She mutters when I stand in front of her. She sighs. “I was about to go fetch you myself.”

  My aunt, Effie, runs from the edge of the river where the rest of the women that wanted to come to the ceremony are reunited. She takes a sweeping look at me from head to toe, and sniffs. “Young lady… couldn’t you have worn the deerskin dress I left out for you?” She laments. “Or any dress? At least this once?”

  “Never mind that. Come, Katniss. We are late as it is.” Replies my mother, taking a hold of my wrist and dragging me the rest of the way to the river.

  “But… it’s her Purification Day!” Cries Effie. “Why can’t she look like a sweet girl for her Washing Ceremonies? I told her today was big, big, big day for her, and she still didn’t listen to me.”  

  Normally mother doesn’t care what I wear, but right now she’s looking a bit annoyed. I’m unsure whether her mood is directed at her half sister or me. Either way, I try to shrink into the background as much as possible not to draw her attention to my day old clothes.

  I’m surprised to see so many women waiting for me. I believe half the elder female of the tribe are reunited in this river bank, which makes me itchy and twitchy just looking at them.

  “Why are there so many women here?” I ask my mother in a harsh whisper.

  “Because you’re the Chief’s daughter,” She replays back.

  “And, the most likely candidate to toast with that handsome Gale Hawthorne.” Says ain’t Effie dreamily.

  “What?!” I stop dead in my tracks, causing my mother to stumble, since she’s still gripping my wrist in her hand. “I’m not marrying Gale! I’m not marrying anyone!”

  “Hush!” My mother hisses, her cool blue eyes scanning the crowd, making sure nobody heard me. “Your father hasn’t come to a decision yet, but you have to agree that marrying Gale will put you in a very prominent place amongst your people.” Mother says bitterly. And with reason.

  Mother is not actually a Seam. In fact, she’s not merely human at all.

  Of course she’s my blood and all, but she’s part of a caste— better yet, a race— of people that can turn into wolves. People call them ‘Children of Mother Moon’ or simply, The Pack.

  My mother is not a shifter herself, and that’s why she was allowed to come live within the Seam’s tribe; but she still has certain abilities, such as self healing, endurance and acute hearing. The rest of her kind—the Pack— physically turn into wolves every full moon and have pretty much the same gifts as my mother, plus sense of smell and night vision, which makes them amazing trackers and hunters, just like their counterparts in the wild.

  In their human form, they share similar traits such as blonde or auburn hair, light skin, blue or green eyes. They can be fastidiously well spoken and have crazy strict traditions, even more taxing than Purification Day.

  When my father married my mother, his Chiefdom title was almost stripped off him; if it hadn’t been for Haymitch’s quick thinking and the promise of appeasing the unrest between our tribe and the Pack, my father would’ve lost his position and quite possibly his good name. Our people worked out an agreement with the Pack way back then, and we’ve lived peacefully, sharing the land and its fruits ever since.

  Now, it isn’t completely unheard of werewolves and Seams mixing and having affairs. Why my aunt Effie is product of one sordid union between my mother’s wolf father, and a pretty tribes woman. Effie is considered the pinnacle of sophistication in our village and is admired by many… which is strange, since she’s not the brightest person I know.

  “Well, not to worry my dear. I am sure the Chief will come to a wise decision, as always.” Effie smiles indulgently at us, and it’s hard to keep annoyed with her when her caring nature shows through.

  “Welcome, Katniss, daughter of Chief Everdeen!” I’m startled. I haven’t finish dropping my game bag on the ground when the ceremony starts. “Come to waters, to start your journey into womanhood!” Grandma Sae, the oldest person in the tribe greets me with open arms; her voice still clear despite her age, breaks the silence of the woods.

  The woman is not actually my grandmother, but everyone in the village calls her Grandma anyway. She looks almost comical, wearing her ceremonial robes, like she’s shrunk since the last time she wore them, which is a real possibility.

  “Come forth child, and let the mothers and grandmothers of your tribe guide you.” Sae continues.

  My mother and aunt Effie nudge me forward, while they take their place amongst the other women.

  “Disrobe, child. Here we leave the clothes of a little girl, and symbolically wash away your inexperience.”

  All the women of the tribe converge on me and quite unceremoniously pluck me out of my shirt, trousers and shoes, until I’m left in the middle of the ring without a stitch of clothing on. I cover myself anyway I can, because other than my sister, Primrose, nobody has seen me in less than sleeping clothes. I’m very uncomfortable with this nudity, but this is all part of the tradition, and since my whole family will be shamed if I don’t follow our customs, I simply take a deep breath, close my eyes, and give myself to the rituals of Purification Day.

  Aunt Effie would say, in her diplomatic cadence, that Purification Day is a rite of passage, from child to woman.

  A girl is expected to enter the Purification rites one week before her 17th birthday, when she becomes of age, and the new woman can take a trade, or enter into a marriage contract soon after.

  Purification Day has been practiced for generations upon generations, and consists of three parts called: Washing Ceremonies. The first washing is at dawn, the next one at noon, and the last one at evening.

  The dawn ceremony, or First Washing, takes place at the river, where we normally bathe and do laundry. A sixteen year old girl has to symbolically wash away her childhood, and let the river take away all childish behavior in its currents under the watchful eye of the all the mothers, grandmothers and aunts in the family… or in my case, the whole village. Once the bath is over, the elder women will teach the young ones the proper way to wash clothes in the river, by beating the garments with rocks and sticks.

  That part I’ve always considered absurd and redundant, since most girls are taught to do laundry as soon as ten years old, so they can help with chores around their homes.

  Then, at midday, after the hunters and gatherers have return from their morning expeditions, the young women have to collect the food her family is going to prepare for supper, and bring it to the well in the middle of town to be cleaned. That’s the Second or Noon Washing. New women are expected to cook the meal on their own with limited help from their mother or grandmother. In this ceremony, one has to wash hands all the way to the elbows, face down to the neck, and some families include feet and ankles… not mine, which is fine by me.

  The game from the hunters and the crops and greens from the gatherers have to be washed and butchered right after a young lady does her ceremony. Not all the girls manage to complete the butchering and cooking, so their mother’s usually have to step in the first time around. A lot is forgiven on the noon ceremony, because nobody likes to suffer food poisoning.

  The last washing, is the one I’m looking forward to the most: hot water springs! Every important woman in the life of the girl— sister, friends, cousins, mother, aunts, teachers, etc.— can participate of this washing. The young woman is escorted to the springs by the most important females in her inner circle, and they help by fixing her evening bath throwing aromatic flowers, oils, and salts into a small water pool by the springs.

  The young woman can receive a scalp massage, her feet can be treated with a pommes stones, and her fingernails trimmed and filed by her closest friends and relatives. Of course, I’m choosing to ignore the main lesson of this washing, which is the most useless of all in my opinion: to learn proper grooming for the wedding night.

  I made my father promise me he’d think about letting me take a trade, instead of setting me up in a marriage contract. My dream job is to become a permanent member of the hunting party, but that marriage to Gale Hawthorne nonsense has cropped up before, and father won’t make a definite decision on the matter.

  Gale Hawthorne is my third cousin, and next in line for the Chiefdom, after my father passes away, or abdicates his position. Marrying Gale would cement both our claim to leadership of the Seams.

  I redress quickly after my bath, there’s no reason to wait for the women to mob me again with their ‘helpful’ hands as if I was a helpless toddler. And that’s when things go wrong.

  I grab the basket of laundry my mother brought with her this morning, and start selecting the garment I want to wash first; the ladies around me do the same and we all start the tedious task together. The shirt I was supposed to wash hasn’t even been submerged in the water yet when my mother stands from her place next me and cranes her neck downriver.

  I’ve learned to be alert when my mother reacts to sounds only she can hear, so I jump up, “What is it?” I ask breathlessly.

  The rest of the women look up at her as well.

  My mother turns to us and commands urgently, “Everybody, take your things and run for home! Wolves are on the way.”

  The full moon isn’t for another week or so, but it’s sort of like an unspoken rule that women clear the river if wolves come to bathe or wash.  

  I’m already slapping stuff into our basket before mother’s done talking. Most women are ready to go by the time I look up, but others are taking their sweet time. Soon the sound of voices and laughter grows gradually louder. The rest of the women pick up their stuff fast and hurry up the hill towards home. My mother and Effie take the rear of the group while Hazelle Hawthorne, another influential lady of the tribe, takes the front.

  I’m passing my mother, who’s helping a woman heavily pregnant carry her basket when she speaks, “Katniss, Grandma Sae is not in the group!” my mother practically pushes the woman she’s helping up the hill.

  I bolt back to the river’s edge, and find Sae struggling to pick up a bag with her very wet clothes.

  “I’ll take this, Grandma. You go join the others!”

  “No child, this is my burden, and I’m not going to run for no rowdy boys, even if they’re wolves!”

  The river is neutral ground. Both our clans are expected to respect each other’s right to the water, so there haven’t been any disputes over the river since before I was born; there’s no reason for anyone to believe there would ever be one, but whatever my mother heard, was reason enough to disrupt my first washing ceremony, so I really don’t want to stay around to figure out what’s going on without my bow.

  “It’s alright, grandmother, helping you is an honor and part of being an adult, so stop arguing with me, and give me the bag.” I wink at her for good measure. Sae is a sassy lady who likes to jest in difficult situations.

  The woman cackles, and dumps her load on my shoulders rather happily, and you’d never know she was so old just watching her stroll up that hill even faster than the few eighteen and nineteen year old women in the group.

  Unfortunately, I’m not fast enough, and soon I can hear clearly a group of young voices somewhere on the other side of the river.

  The obnoxious laughter grows louder as a group of around ten guys break out of the woods on the opposite bank. The newcomers don’t seem to notice me, but still I try to quicken my step. Instead, I trip on a loose pebble and Sae’s heavy bag tips back throwing off my balance.

  I tumble down the hill like an avalanche of wet rags and sore girl. All I can do is clench my eyes shut and brace for impact at the foot of the hill, while pleading with all my ancestors, I don’t get too bruised up.

  The next thing I know, I’m miraculously wrapped into warm, comforting padding, shielded from the worst of the fall.

  I’m momentarily confused, because I can’t fathom what could have saved me from colliding with hard, possibly jagged stones at the bottom of the hill.

  And then, I hear the last voice I expected to aid me in this embarrassing situation. “Are you alright, mistress?”

  The voice is deep, velvety, and warm. I would recognize it anywhere, despite never having spoken to its owner directly. I’ve become familiar with his specific frequency and cadence through years of diplomatic and protocolar functions between our peoples.

  I’m suddenly very aware of my body’s position, sprawled over his solidly built body in a very undignified way, not very diplomatic or protocolarly acceptable. My eyes finally fly open and I’m confronted with clear blue eyes that look at me with concern.

  I try scrambling to my feet, and Peeta, Prince of the Wolves, tries to help me up, which is no good at all, because his touch is making my head spin, bringing inexplicable memories of my dream this morning, making my stomach burn and rendering clumsy my every move.

  It takes great effort to stand. We keep falling and sliding on the ground. There’s mud everywhere and the contents of Sae’s bag are littered all over the damp dirt.

  Another hand materializes above us, and they try to pull us up just when I hear the pounding of many feet descending the hill, and the sound of a war horn—that hasn’t been blown in years— fills the whole valley. A war cry follows the horn, and the prince’s heart starts beating wildly in his chest, right under my palm.

  “Get off her, mutt!”

  I curse under my breath because I recognize that voice too, and nothing good is going to come out of Gale Hawthorne’s hotheadedness meddling in this whacky situation.

  I try to push off the prince’s chest, again, and I swear he wraps his arm protectively around my waist tighter, as if reluctant to let go of me.

  Nonetheless, the prince rocks us up to our feet, just when a heavy hand falls on my shoulder and yanks me back, out of the prince’s arms. I’m surprised to find my father in looking me over for a quick second and immediately shifting his hard gaze to the men from the other side of the river gathered around me.

  “Your trespassing, wolf!” Says my father, although the prince has his hands up in surrender and is slowly stepping back into the water.

  That’s when I notice he’s soaking wet, his riot of blonde curls lay flat, plastered to his skull and face. His clothes are completely covered in mud, and he’s dripping water everywhere. A taller man— the most handsome man I ever set eyes on— I recognize as Beta Odair, is keeping close to Prince Peeta. I guess it was his helping hand that tried to pull us up before my father’s arrival. Odair’s legendary sea green eyes quietly study my father and his warriors. He too is drenched head to toe, but there isn’t a spect of mud on him I can see.

  “It wasn’t my intention to trespass into your territory, mighty Chief Everdeen—“ starts the prince, but Gale interrupts.

  “Then what was your intention, dog breath? To attack the Chief’s daughter?”

  Gale lunges forward as he’s saying the words; everything happens so fast. Gale is a foot away from the Prince with his spear pointed at his heart; I’m running after Gale, screaming at the top of my lungs for him to stop, and suddenly, Beta Odair is there, standing like a solid wall between Gale and Peeta. Odair moves with such speed, that I’m surprised Gale wasn’t thrown on his ass with the force.

  “Enough!” My father calls out. “Prince of the Wolves, as Chief of The Seam, I demand an explanation. You were found on my territory, in a compromising position with my daughter.”

  “Father, it’s not what you think—” I speak up, but I get ignored when Gale can’t keep his mouth shut.

  “You can’t believe a word this mutt says!”

  “I don’t know who you take me for, son of the Sun, but I would never harm a lady. I’m going to overlook your derogatory words this time, because the situation is unusual and emotions are running high. But make no mistake, I am Prince Peeta, only heir of Alpha Mellark, and I won’t tolerate your disrespect again.”

  “Gale!” Father calls him in a tone that leaves no room for arguments. “Mind yourself!”

  Still, Gale doesn’t back down, holding a staring competition with Odair, like he could inflict any damage on the man. He finally returns to his position on the line of warriors armed with spears and bows. I can’t help rolling my eyes.

  After a few tense moments, Prince Peeta speaks. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. We didn’t mean to disrupt the women’s chores earlier. We just ended a long night of hunting, and wanted to clean up before returning home. We almost turned back, but the women moved on. We figured it’d be a waste and a dishonor to your brave women to scare them away for naught.

  “When we were at the river bank, Mistress Everdeen had an unfortunate mishap. I was trying to help, but it seems I made things worse for everyone. And for that, receive my most sincere apologies. I would never do anything to harm your people, Chief Everdeen, least of all your own flesh and blood.”

  “Katniss, is this true?” Asks my father in a hard tone I’m not used to hear.

  I look up at him, and nod vehemently. “It is father. The prince saw me fall. I was heading to the washing stones, I could’ve hurt myself severely. He saved me. Nothing else. It’s the truth.”

  Father stares at me with piercing gray eyes that scrutinized me like I could be hiding anything from him, and once he’s satisfied I’m being truthful, he looks at prince Peeta.

  “Very well. Let this be a one time incident, and never repeat it. Everyone, peace is restored between our factions.” Without further discussion, Father commands us all to march back home, and the wolves return to whatever they wanted to do originally.

  ————-

  Purification Day goes by without a hitch. To my people’s everlasting credit, no one— other than Gale— mentions the embarrassing encounter with the wolves, because nobody wants to stir up that pot of worms.

  The Wolves and the Seams have a long history of wars, death, and rivalry. Early on it was agreed that each race would keep to one side of the river, and never cross the other’s territory without invitation. The game of the region is supposed to be managed responsibly by both our clans, and one can’t steal kills from the other, but through history, those rules have been tested and broken numerous times, causing tension and animosity every so often.

  When my father became Chief, he vowed to stop the bloodshed, and an era of peace was reached when the Alpha allowed my father to marry my mother. Our borders have been respected and we have even worked with the wolves during hunting excursions, sharing prey and crops. But lately, there’s an unrest between the Tribe and the Pack.

  Sometimes, I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time before someone like Gale does something to start a row, and all our years of hard earned peace would be lost in the blink of an eye.

  I just hope I’m wrong.

  ——————-

  The last rite of Purification Day comes as a welcome reprieve.

  Primrose, Aunt Effie and Mother sit on the edge of the small, semicircle pool I’m marinating in with their feet in the the warm water.

  My only friend, Rue, who’s actually Prim’s age, was allowed to tag along for the ceremony, but she’s kept busy trying different plants and fruits for their aromas, tossing in the pool all kinds of crazy combinations. She claims that lavender, peony and rose—which incidentally is all my mother and Effie brought with them— are too predictable and expected and nothing like me. So she’s set out to find some other fragrance that’s more appropriate for me… whatever that means.

  “Eucalyptus!” Rue calls out loudly, tossing a bag of dry eucalyptus leaves she brought from home.

  I choke immediately, coughing my lungs out. When I calm down enough, I fish the offending pouch out of my hot bath, and lob it as far away from me as I can.

  “Lemon! Sage! Basil!” Rue calls out sprinkling leaves and slices of fruit into the water.

  “Rue!” I growl, but my mother, Prim and surprisingly even Effie are laughing merrily at Rue’s antics, so I splash at my mischievous friend, chuckling as well.

  A shadow looms above me and before my eyes can make the trek up the person blocking the glow of my lamp, a flat, cold voice interrupts our fun.

  “My-my. Did we come to the wrong gathering?” Every set of eyes follow the voice, as three figures come into focus… two of them seem to hesitate. “I thought we are attending a Washing Ceremony, not a cookout. Lemon, sage, and basil, sound like a recipe for fish stew, won’t you agree Hazelle, dear?”

  Hazelle Hawthorne, Gale’s mother, glares at the woman speaking, but before she can say anything, my mother stands up and greets the newcomers coldly.

  “Alma.” Mother addresses the speaker with barely restrained annoyance, “What a surprise. I wasn’t aware you were joining us. Of course Hazelle and little Posy are more than welcome to come with us as are Katniss’ beloved cousins.”

  Actually, Alma Coin is my father’s closest living relative; they’re second cousins once removed. Alma is Gale’s aunt, and Hazelle’s sister-in-law.

  Unlike my father, who has me and Prim, Alma has no living direct family, so she’s been hovering over Gale since he was named my father’s closest male relative, and next in line for chiefdom.

  The problem is Alma despises everything my father does; marrying my mother was just the last nail on the coffin, because of her ancestry. As for me, Alma has been trying to recruit me into her hate mongering ways since I can remember.  Although Gale’s completely loyal to my father, his aunt, Alma, has great influence on him.

  That said, her intrusion in my washing ceremony is unwelcome and downright rude.

  “Well, we thought that since our Gale will soon be named Katniss’ fiancé, when the announcement of his request of her hand in marriage—“

  “What?!” I screech and splash in the spring. “Gale is what?”

  Alma glares at me as if I was some insignificant inconvenience, and continues as if nothing has happened, “It would be appropriate to participate in this last ritual, as future direct family of the bride to be.”

  One glance at Prim and Aunt Effie tells me they are as flabbergasted as I am. My mother looks livid on the other hand, which leads me to believe she’s already aware of this tidbit of information.

  Sure, everyone expects Gale to pursue me as his bride to strengthen his claim to the chiefdom, but he making his proposal official is news to me.

  “May I remind you that just because a proposal has been made, doesn’t necessarily mean a decision has been reached?” Says my mother with venom in her voice. “We have yet to speak to Katniss of this, and you know better than anyone that coming to an accord before the prospective bride’s seventeenth birthday is unheard of. Even for a chief’s daughter.”

  “Oh, are we following tradition now? How quaint.” Says Alma without missing a beat and proceeds to sit on an old fallen log nearby.

  Hazelle, looking embarrassed and chagrined starts a soft apology. I think she’d much rather leave, but my Aunt Effie is quick to come forth and embrace her and her young daughter, Posy.

  “Hazelle, my dear friend! Please, come, come. Sit, sit. How wonderful to have you and sweet, little Posy with us.”

  Prim and Rue make room for the tween girl between them and promptly have her barefoot and dipping her toes in the hot water with the rest of my family. My mother is warmer towards Hazelle and Posy as well; we all know they wouldn’t have come if not for nosy Alma, and honestly, we do like the Hawthorne women… with the obvious exception of course.

  I notice Hazelle has brought a bag with her.

  “What did you bring, Hazelle?” I ask from my perch, trying to ignore Alma’s attempts at controlling the conversation.

  “Oh. Just some soaps and flowers I use in the laundry. Made them myself, you know.”

  Hazelle is the head laundress in the tribe, although everyone is expected to help with their family’s chores, many people opt for trading with women like Hazelle, who take care of laundry for exchange of other goods.

  “It isn’t much, but it’s gentle enough for baths.” Says Hazelle with a soft smile.

  “Let us have it then. If we let Rue continue with her ideas, poor Katniss will end up smelling like a roast.” Quips Effie in a rare bout of humor.

  Hazelle’s wares are incredible, and soon I’m left with soft, glowing skin that smell of orchids and strawberries. It’s a strange combination, but it works perfectly.

  We have so much fun, we forget Alma is there until she clears her throat, clearly annoyed everyone is ignoring her.

  “Katniss, dear, I believe it’s time to return to our huts. Please be done with your cleansing, so we can give you the final blessings.”

  “Excuse me?” Says my mother in a dangerous tone. “As the matriarch in this family, the authority to call this ceremony to a close rests solely on me. If you are too fatigued to stay with the rest of us until I decide it’s time, then by all means, say your blessings now, we won’t hold it against you if you went home early. We will see that Hazelle and Posy make it home safely, once we’re done here.”

  Alma’s lips form a thin line. Mother does have the last word in this matter, not only as my mother, but also as the Chief’s wife. Alma is twice outranked and truly she came out here uninvited. She sits there looking at us like she’s about to rip my mother’s head clean off her neck, for the rest of the night, which is only thirty more minutes including a ceremonial drying, the applying of some tonics and perfume and final blessings from the attendees.

  On our walk back home— after returning the Hawthorne’s and Rue to their huts— Prim yawns and falls into step with me. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and although she’s only half an inch shorter than me now, she rest her head on my shoulder and whispers lowly, so mother and Effie won’t hear.

  “I think mother was about to call it a night when Alma decided to open her antagonistic, huge mouth. What do you think?” Prim sighs.

  It’s true. Things were starting to naturally dwindle down around the time Alma tried to impose herself on us again, and as petty as mother’s response was, staying those extra minutes were just a matter of principle at that point.

  “Well, hopefully that’ll teach Alma to mind her manners!” Says Effie with a haughty shake of her head, and after a moment of shock that we were overheard passes by, we all giggle together.

  As a day I’ve been dreading for the past year, Purification Day wasn’t bad at all.

  ———-

  The talk about Gale’s proposal comes in the morning. Father and mother shoo Prim away after breakfast and then it’s only us three at home.

  Prim gives me a tight smile and wishes me luck before ducking out the bamboo and leather door of our hut. She’s not fully gone when father starts telling me about Gale’s visit after the incident with the prince.

  I never pegged Gale for the romantic type, but according to my parents, he delivered this ardent speech about how him and I belonged together and how perfect a pair we’d make, and with him as Chief and me hanging on his arm, the village would flourish into a golden age of prosperity— as if what my father has done for the last twenty years accounts for nothing!

  Of course, Alma was with Gale the whole time instead of his own mother— probably feeding him the lines of his speech— as the leader of his family, although that role belongs to Gale as the eldest male in the Hawthorne’s home.

  I groan, “You’re not really considering this, are you?” I ask my parents staring at them in turn.

  “We have to consider all the options, my wild flower.” Says my father.

  “Not all of them” Whispers my mother under her breath while pouring tea into a pewter mug for my father.

  “Who?” I ask watching my father’s lip twitch in something aching to warning.

  “Nobody we can consider, dear. Just a misguided little boy.” Says mother taking her sit next to father.

  I purse my lips for a moment. “Well, I much rather wait for a little boy to be of age and marry him, than sharing a roof with Alma; that’s for sure.” I say brattily.

  My mother pulls a face, and dives into a strained spiel, “Will that really be your decision, Katniss? You can’t just dive blindly into that kind of thing—“

  Father starts laughing uproariously cutting off mother’s ranting. She gives a look that would have any other man shaking in their boots, but father just hugs her and kisses her lips mid laughter, until she has enough and pushes him away. I’m smiling too, watching my parents’ little spat.

  “I fail to see the humor in this! We are discussing your daughter’s future!” She grounds through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, beloved!” Father sighs. “I think you’ve mistaken Katniss’ sarcasm for truth.”

  Mother looks cross but she blinks away her confusion for understanding, and that gives way to a mortified moodiness I’ve only ever seen in Effie before now.

  “What does Katniss want then?” Mother demands more annoyed than affronted.

  “I think I just rather be a hunter.” I say giving father my biggest pleading eyes, hoping he’d just let me stay single… at least until someone else catches my eye.

  “We’ll see, Katkin, we will see.”

  ——————-

The dream starts anew with me running through the woods being chased by wolves.

  This time I reach the clearing right as a painful stitch in my side makes me trip over and fall.

  The humanoid wolf is once more walking towards me upright, on his hind legs. His hairy fingers grow sharp claws he uses to shred my clothes to smithereens, and the cups my face into both his paws, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. His nose is touching mine, but it’s strangely dry and cold, and then I open my own eyes and look past his menacing muzzle, over his snout, into his clear blue eyes.

  My legs fall open at each side of me, and the wolf scoots closer between them. I make the mistake of looking down, and catch sight of his engorge erection, so man-like— although I’ve never seen an actual man naked in my life— and I’m about to cry out a small protest, when a loud commotion outside the hut wakes me up with a start.

  Prim is already up and wrapping a robe around herself. “Katniss, here!” She tosses me the robe draped over the foot of my bedroll as I’m kicking off my covers.

  We both rush out of the heavy curtain separating our sleeping areas with the rest of our home. Mother is standing at the door looking anxiously outside. Father is nowhere to be found, so we join Mother.

  “What’s going on?” I ask digging my fingers into my mother’s elbow.

  She looks at me as if she’s just waking up from a bad dream herself. “I’m not sure.” She mutters. “Your father is out there, trying to calm people down and learn what’s happened. He ordered me to stay home and keep both of you safe.” She says solemnly.

  Well, he didn’t tell me to stay put, so as fast as I can, I zoom past my mother into the open door and force my bare feet to ignore the ground and pebbles I step on while pumping my legs to the limit. My mother stays at the door calling me to come back, but I don’t dare look at her. I keep going and lose them around the corner of one shack, just to come across my father and a crowd of people in their sleep clothes, surrounding Gale and his friends, Thom and Bristel.

  “… did you want to accomplish Gale?!” My father’s voice drips with displeasure and anger. “We’ll be two horses down and there’s no telling if there will be damage to our crops.”

  “Sir, the wolves invaded our borders and endangered one of our own. I say our retaliation was justified—“

  “Retaliation? Justified? All I heard from your story is how a trio of hotheaded children rushed the Pack’s camp and torched their wheat fields, then got chased off their borders, and instead of fleeing somewhere away from the village, you cut through our own fields and brought an unnecessary scuffle home to top it all off. Did I miss anything?” My father is so angry, a can see a vein tensing in his neck.

  “They attacked Katniss first!” Yells Gale.

  “Gale, the Prince didn’t attack Katniss. She’d fallen and could’ve broken her neck on the river rocks if they hadn’t come to her aid.”

  “They trespassed! And they could’ve soiled my bride if we hadn’t stopped them—“

  “I’m not your bride!” I screech over the hubbub.

  The crowd goes silent and all eyes stare at me.

  “I’m not your bride.” I repeat sullenly, under my breath.

  “Sure you’ll be, Catnip. It’s already been discussed.” Gale says with a warning in his soft tone.

  “Boy, just because you came telling me why I should let you marry my daughter, does not mean there was a discussion, much less an agreement. And after your seriously misguided hijinks tonight, I doubt you’re ready for a wife at all, let alone be Chief of the Seams, but this isn’t the place or the time to have this conversation.”

  “I did what needed to be done, since nobody did anything to show the wolves they can’t just do as they pleased, disrespecting our tribe.”

  “Son, you could’ve caused great damage tonight by being brush. You went out there without your leader’s approval and we won’t know the cost until tomorrow,” Haymitch’s dangerous gray eyes stare at Gale. The man is speaking with this even, slow cadence, that only serves to bring the fear of Father Sun into us. “One should never do the first thing that pops in our heads, kid. Most cases it’ll turn out to be some stupid bullshit that’ll land you in a heap of trouble.”

  Gale’s jaw muscles tense; his eyes flit momentarily towards Alma’s retreating form in the very back of the crowd, and my gut tells me tonight’s incident is Alma’s brainchild, not Gale’s. He’s just the scapegoat.

  “I think we should all go to our houses and sleep. If the pack was going to retaliate tonight, they’d’ve already come.”

  My father comes to my side and gives me a quick disapproving glance before putting his hand on shoulder to guide me home.

  “I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn.” I mumble to the ground.

  My father gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze, and lets it go. “No, Katkin. Gale is assuming too much and fooling himself into lofty conclusions. But, you’re here when you were supposed to be home under your mother’s supervision. I have no other recourse than to leave you to her discretion once we get home.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask him widening my eyes.

  “I won’t intervene if she sees fit to ground you.” He tells me arching both brows.

  I scowl turning my face away from his.

  When we’re finally home, my mother simply glares at me and orders me straight to bed. In the morning, I’m made to do my chores, and then I have to attend a sewing gathering with the married women— something I haven’t done since I was old enough to go catch bullfrogs at the creek on my own— and after that, I had to sit home and stargaze from my bedroom window, while Prim and Rue go around doing fun stuff without me.

  It was the most boring day ever, until my dreams came back to plague me. This time is not an  anthropomorphic wolf who visits me, but Gale.

  He’s in his Chief outfit, his headpiece is made of buck antlers so big, I’m not sure how he’s walking upright; his robes are made of colorful wool and soft tan deerskin. But there’s a rattlesnake wrapped around his forehead, hissing into his ear.  The snake coils down one arm, while the tail is wraps around his wrists tightly.

  I’m trying to warn him of the danger, but the snakes bifurcated tongue won’t let him hear me. I have to think of something to free him from it, but I can’t get close enough to help.

  I end up waking in a cold sweat, breathing frantically and almost crying aloud, knowing the snake will claim my friend’s life if I don’t get back to him and kill the reptile.

  “Katniss?” Prim mumbles groggily from her bedroll. “Are you okay?” She’s trying so hard to sit up.

  “I’m fine Prim. Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep, Little Duck.”

  “M-kay… but you let me know if you need-“ yawn, “anything.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  I smile because Prim’s bleary eyes shut and a slow snore escapes her pretty much instantly.

  I’m still shaken by my dream about Gale; sleep eludes me thinking of a way to help him out, until dawn.

  ————-

  Alpha Mellark sends a messenger to request a meeting, just as our own messenger was being dispatched for the same purpose.

  Thom, Bristel and Gale have to prepare apologies to clan Mellark for burning down their fields.

  The meeting is to take place in the Pack’s riverbank. I’m allowed to come listen in for the first time ever, mainly because Gale claims his actions are a direct result of the incident of the morning of Purification Day. Haymitch is there too, watching me like a hawk, which is a little unnerving, and Gale and his friends will have to sit in the canoe we’ll use to get across, until they’re summoned to the meeting.

  Alma is hovering in my periphery, but I pay her no attention, instead I shoulder my bow, if I trust anyone with a bow and arrow, it’s myself. But Alma insists on lurking in the background, so I stare at her this time, letting her know I see her, and I’m onto her, whatever she’s trying to do.

  The wolves are already waiting for us. They look so dignified and regal despite some people from the tribe— mainly Alma and whomever’s ears she has— consider them savage animals with no refinement or civility.

  My father and Alpha Mellark bow to one another and after a moment, they embrace briefly, in an amicable display of unity, like they do every time they meet.

  The only way I can describe the Pack, is like, city folk. They wear leather boots that lace up, thin linen shirts, sturdy dark trousers that button up in the front. A few of them wear suspenders, and the women present are clad in colorful calico dresses which mother would adore.

  Their faces are solemn. Pale skin from being indoors often, and flowing golden hair that frame clear blue eyes, much like those on my mother and Primrose.

  My mother and sister have always looked out of place in the tribe of olive skin, dark haired Seams. No wonder my mother has struggled so much to fit in with my people. At least I’m the spitting image of my father and people have never treated me like I don’t belong like they did to her before proving herself to be the best healer around.

  I’ve never been officially introduced to the Pack, so I’m a little shy when my father calls my name and I’m engulfed in Alpha Mellark’s arms. His limbs are as thick as tree trunks and as warm as embers. I’m immediately transported to Purification Day morning, when the Prince’s arms were around me. Somehow, his embrace felt more familiar and softer than the one I’m in at the moment. I blush wondering if the prince will hug me now?

  “Beautiful Katniss! Just as breathtaking as your mother, my cousin.” Says the Alpha.

  I turn to see my father’s reaction, because I never knew mother was part of the pack’s monarchy, which may explain aunt Effie’s fastidiousness with manners and poise; if she too was a daughter of kings and alphas, then it was in her blood to act so… neatly.

  My father nods imperceptibly, and I turn to give the Alpha a grateful nod. “T-thanks, Sir.”

  “None of that sir business, dear! I’m your kin for all intents and purposes. But come, meet my son, Peeta, and his soon to be wife, Glimmer.”

  I go mute for an awful minute.

  One time, I was atop a tall apple tree, trying to grab the biggest apple before the rest of my friends. I went too far up on a dare, and the branch under me grew too frail and broke, sending me down like a sack of rocks. I caught a branch in the stomach and flipped around it one full spiral, then crashed to the ground, hard. I hurt so much, and the impact of the hard branch on my stomach knocked all the air out of me, when I open my mouth to sob, no sounds came out, which freaked me out more. I entered into this panic cycle where the harder I tried to cry, the harder it became to breathe, thus no sounds coming out of me.

  It’s how I feel right now, looking at the woman hanging from the Prince’s elbow.

  I noticed the beautiful lady, but I hadn’t taken the time to actually look at her. Every strand of golden hair is perfectly coiffed in place, her eyes are an otherworldly hue of green that rackes over my underwhelming figure and seemingly finds me lacking, because her lips twist upward in a mocking sneer she hides quickly when the Alpha faces her.

  “We’ve already met, haven’t we Miss Everdeen?” Says the Prince with a soft, amicable smile.

  I guess he won’t be giving me any hugs after all.

  I give an awkward nod, “We got unofficially acquainted with each other the other morning.” Why does my voice sound so squeaky?

  Although I was never invited to official meetings between the heads of the clans growing up— on account that I usually got bored pretty quick and meandered away anyway— Prince Peeta has always been at his father’s side, wherever the Alpha goes, since I can remember. It’s hard to miss a boy that smiles so warmly at everyone, but I guess I’ve been a little fixated on him since I was around thirteen; the prince is a couple of years older than me, and way friendlier than I’ll ever be, I saw him talking to this Seam girl, Leevy, once, and he gave her this lopsided smile that made him look so… cute, and then he winked at her, making her giggle.

  I don’t know why, but watching him do that, made my cheeks warm up and gave me a nervous twinkle in the pit of the stomach. After that, I started finding reasons to be around the places where the Wolf and Seam leaders were gathering for their conclaves and councils. As far as I can tell, I never actually set out to purposely see the prince, but now because of my gut reaction to the news of his engagement, I’m wondering if subconsciously, that’s all it was about?

  Both my father and the Alpha laugh bringing me back to the present, and I have the nagging suspicions it’s me they find amusing.

  If I could glare at either of them I would, but at the moment I’m rooted to the ground and my body muscles are frozen in place.

  “I haven’t met the sweet, young girl!” Says Glimmer in a saccharine tone. “I’m Lady Glimmer, future Madam Alpha,” she titters and wraps both arms around the prince’s one.

  “Charmed.” I tell her trying to emulate Effie’s mannerisms as closely as I can.

  “How about Finnick? Have you met Finnick yet? And my beloved niece, Delly!” Alpha Mellark waves them over.

  Beta Odair I recognize immediately. Everybody knows him, really. Every girl in the tribe swoons and giggles behind their school books or shawls when his name gets mentioned. He’s the most sensuous man— or wolf— I’ve ever seen, yet I don’t find him all that attractive. He seems the type to change girlfriends the same way one changes undergarments before each bath.

  He’s always in some kind of official business when seen outside the pack’s territory; which accounts for how serious he always seems, but I can see a spark of deviousness in his sea green eyes when he finally reaches his big hand out for me to grasp.

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Katniss. I’m Finnick Odair. You look lovely sans all that mud.” He winks at me.

  I feel my cheeks heat up, but then I’m squeezing his huge hand so tightly he arches an eyebrow at our hands before smiling at me.

  “Thank you, sir. You look shorter, now that I’m rightside up.” I quip before realizing what I’m doing.

  There’s a second of silence, but then Haymitch’s guffawing. “What did I tell ya? Chief’s girl is got spunk!”

  Finnick Odair joins in the laughter, and soon even I am smiling at the ridiculousness.

  A look passes between the Beta and the Prince— a knowing look— I can’t make out, so I move on to greet the last person in the Wolves’ party. A girl about my age with yellowish hair, so curly I can’t see how she’d ever get a brush through the strands. Her wide, happy blue eyes, and tiny nose make her face look sweet, but it’s the sight of her smile, biggest and most genuine I’ve ever seen before, that makes me like her. She’s got a bit of meat to spare on her bones too, but she’s pretty enough, and her dress fits perfectly over her curvy shape.

  She, like the Alpha, throws her arms around me as if we are friends that haven’t seen each other in years finally reconnecting. “My word, Miss Katniss! Why you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen!” She says giving me a tight squeeze. “I’m Madelynn by the way, but everyone calls me Delly. I’m acting Madam Alpha, since I’m the only female left in the family.”

  “Oh,” I’m not sure what to say, “Hi, Miss Delly?” I look at my father for guidance, while awkwardly patting Delly’s back, but father is already immersed in conversation with the Alpha and completely ignoring me.

  “Oh it’s a delight to finally meet you, Katniss! May I call you Katniss?” Delly has finally let go of me, but she’s talking a mile a second practically in my ear when I see my father wave at Gale and company to join us, and then Finnick taps the girl on the shoulder and she finally falls into place, next to the prince and his fiancée.

  Father introduces Gale, his introduction goes unsurprisingly more subdued than mine. Then Gale gives his half hearted apology to the pack leaders while they watch stoically at him.

  “My dear boy,” Says the Alpha, addressing Gale, who tenses at the endearment. “Have you ever heard about our past history? The Seams and The Pack?”

  Gale stares at the man for a moment before nodding. “It’s filled with strife and truce over and over.”

  “It’s also filled with blood and very costly losses.” Adds the Alpha. “Have you heard of the seventy-five years of darkness both our peoples lived during the reign of Alpha Snow?”

  Gale nods once more, “Worse conflict in our history, I believe.”

  “Right you are. It was a terrible time. Famine and illness ran rampant. War and bloodshed at every turn. Women and children tore apart so horribly,  even now I have nightmares about it. Snow did not care if you were man or wolf; if you crossed him, you were his enemy, and he would destroy everything you held dear. Nothing was safe with him around. Nothing was sacred. Do you know how we were able to overthrow Snow’s regime of terror?”

  “By throwing my people in between your army and his until you came up the victor.” Gale says with vitriol in his voice.

  “No, lad.” Says Haymitch, to my surprise. His tone sad but sure. “It was a joint effort and every warrior in those battles came voluntarily, because it was the right thing to do. We fought shoulder to shoulder with the lot you call ‘mutts’, and endured bitter losses, but also celebrated great wins. We supported one another and worked together until the monster was finished and his body was broken in a million pieces.” Haymitch fixes his gray penetrating eyes on Gale and says, “Don’t let that aunt of yours fill your head with inaccuracies, kid. Learn your history for yourself, or you’ll be bound to repeat the same mistakes, like the fickle, forgetful creatures we humans are.”

  Gale simply scowls, staring at the ground.

  That dream about the snake twisting around Gale’s body smacks me in the gut, and I can’t unsee the image, desperately hoping Gale will hear reason now.

  “Without the help of Chief Everdeen, we would’ve never dethroned Snow, and because of the sacrifice of your people, during that bitter war, I’m willing to overlook your actions against my people, young Master Hawthorne. I will attribute the loss of my whole crop of wheat to the saying of ‘boys will be boys’ and let you off with a warning.”

  Gale looks up, ready to argue, but my father is quick to step in before Gale has a chance to make matters worse. “Thank you, my dear friend. This kindness won’t be forgotten.”

  “There still be consequences.” Says Beta Odair gravely. “These ‘boyish’ actions have left our clan, without sustenance for the rest of the year. Sure, we can hunt, we are passable farmers, but we are not gatherers the same way you Seams are. With the sowing season gone, there won’t be time to plant any crops before winter, and I’m afraid we can’t survive on just the scraps we have in store now.”

  “What do you propose?” Asks Haymitch, his eyes searching Odair’s face.

  “A third of your crops. Grains are preferable if you can spare them.”

  As expected, Gale gets worked up at once. “This is insane! I say n—“

  “Yes.” Says my father firmly, giving Gale a hard glare. “I believe it’s a reasonable request, and I will personally see to it that it gets honored.”

  “Sir! With all due respect. But you can’t agree to these demands! Our people will suffer—“

  “Then you should’ve have thought about it before attacking the Pack during a period of peace, Gale Hawthorne!”

  Everybody present winces.

  I think this is the very first time anyone has heard my father raise his voice in anger at anyone, but he’s not done.

  “If our people suffers hunger, it is your own doing, Gale. You acted of your own, without my counsel or blessing and brought this disgraceful punishment upon yourself. So now we all have to pay the price for your brashness. Now, we accept the terms of Alpha Mellark, and promise this entire animosity ends here!”

  Nobody dares contradict my father. We all bow to the Wolves, as is our custom when an agreement has been reached, and one by one, we return to the canoes waiting to take us back to our own territory.

  At least, this will mark the end of Gale’s warmongering, and we will all breathe easier again.

  ———-

  Wrong!

  The full moon appears high in the sky the night before my birthday. There has been no more talk of my impending future as I become of age, which is a relief, really; but Gale has been oddly withdrawn and quiet for the last two days since the meeting with the clans’ heads.

  Father called a tribe meeting the same evening to inform our people of the agreement with the pack. Most everyone bemoaned the deal. A third of our grains sounded like a very steep price, but nobody stopped to think about how extensive the damage Gale’s antics had cause the pack; and honestly, the third of our crops couldn’t possibly be enough to feed the pack outside of winter, when game was scarce and wild fruits and other foods were small pickings in the wild.

  I felt awful for them, knowing they were actually very lenient with their punishment, because they could have demanded more, or worse, retaliate by torching our own crops, yet, they went the peaceful route and showed mercy to the tribe.

  It should’ve been the end of the scuffles, but at midnight, on my seventeenth birthday, Gale led a group of disgruntled Seams back into Werewolf territory, causing a terrible bloodbath.

  ————-

  On the 8th day of May, while the sky is still very dark, my village lays in disarray.

  Pools of blood seep into the dry earth all around our campground, and people shuffle around on quick feet, scanning the darkness with their limited human vision as best they can, trying to move the few farm animals we have left to safety, although the attack is over with now.

  All our livestock is gone, either scattered into the wild, scared, or devoured in their pens, but no cattle remains. A severed chicken head lies near the well in the middle of the village; there’s no knowing where it came from or who it belonged to, so Thom, one of Gale’s friends, picks it up and throws it in a bag on the back of the cart he’s pulling around town, collecting animal gore, and injured people that tried to get in the way of the wolves.

  My house is filled with the ones that need emergency healing, but my mother’s hands shake violently. She keeps muttering apologies under her breath to nobody in particular, until Prim takes the thread and needle from her hands and sutures the open wound mother was supposed to be working on. Prim’s voice on the other hand is soothing, and possibly the only thing keeping everyone from breaking apart.

  Gale is sitting in a corner, bleeding from a scratch on his neck, but otherwise fine. He’s shaken and pale, his eyes are lost and unseeing, but I can’t find it in me to feel pity for him, so I look away and try not to breathe in the stench of sweat and blood coiling in the air while making my way out of the hut.

  I’m armed with my bow and arrows when I step outside my house. I’m not sure what to do with myself, but I figure I’m more useful out here, on self appointed watch duty, than I’ll ever be inside with all the injured and maimed people.

  I don’t think the Pack came here to kill any of us, they had their pick of our lot when they broke into the village and our warriors tried to defend our animals, but the message was clear: There’s a war brewing now, and you’re no match for us.

  My father and Haymitch left to try and negotiate a solution with the Alpha Wolf, but everything is looking bleak right now.

  It’s been confirmed by the returning rogue fighters, Gale’s raid killed one of them, and left another one badly beaten. The Pack will demand retribution, and this time it won’t be just a third of our crops.

  Earlier, I heard a boy holding on to a dead sheep, scream at Thom, “What idiot thought it would be a good idea to go after group of werewolves on a full moon night?”

  The kid was absolutely right. One just doesn’t go picking unprovoked fights with things that can eat you. You especially don’t ended up murdering somebody if you’re not prepared to pay blood for blood.

  My eyes fill up with hot, angry tears. Today was supposed to be a happy day for my family. A day of celebration. Instead, my father is out there in the wild, looking for a werewolf king, trying to avoid a full on war that will kill us all, just because a teenager too blinded by anger and resentment couldn’t leave well enough alone.

  That’s a definite no to Gale’s proposal! I think bitterly.

  How could I even consider it? Not to sound conceited, but he ruined my birthday! Not to mentioned brought on a war with the Pack to our front door. How could we ever keep the peace now?

  My eyes focus on a shadow lurking between the nearby huts. My heart beats quicken and my adrenaline flows copiously. I realize who it is, and all the anxiousness, fear and rage I’ve been feeling for the last few hours zero in on my target.

  Her face is oddly illuminated by the moonlight that lingers up above; she toes some debris over, before moving back to the middle of the path.

  Before I can think of what I’m doing, my fingers pull an arrow from my quiver and nock it on the bow. I aim at Alma’s face— the snake who’s always whispered hatred into Gale’s ear— just as she looks up and our eyes collide.

  Her eyes widened in fear; she’s paralyzed like a deer about to be shot down. I pull my bowstring tight, ready to let it fly, but my mother runs out of the hut yelling my father’s name frantically and bumps into me, making me stumble forward.

  When I look up and gather myself, Alma has slipped away.

  “Mother!” I hiss harshly, “what’s wrong?”

  “Katniss… you have to save him. Please, get someone to help! Your father’s in danger!”

  She’s not done talking, but I take off running blindly. I’m not even sure where I’m going, and I wish I had my mother’s super hearing, so at least I could tell which direction to go.

  “This way!” My mother calls breathless from my left, towards the river, and I follow her lead as she crushes through brush and bushes as if they weren’t there at all.

  I try to ignore the bile and fear strangling me, and keep abusing my legs and knees, forcing them to go faster, and faster, until we come to a stop at the foot of the hill where everything started.

  Haymitch lays unconscious on the ground, and my father has been cornered with his hands raised defensively, trying to reason with a group of five enormous looking wolves all baring their sharp, deadly fangs at him.

  “Fellows, I understand your anger and it’s completely justified, but please, let me speak to your Alpha, we may come to a truce—“

  The biggest wolf steps forward with raised hackles, a bristled tail and a low growl that makes a shiver go down my spine. The wolf is ready to attack, so I jump between him and my father, my arrow ready to pierce his skull any second.

  “Stay away from him! If you want somebody to kill, take me!” I yell at the beast like a lunatic.

  Everything happens so fast, I barely have time to react: my father cries out my name and tries to shove me out of the way; the wolf hesitates for a fraction of a second— maybe I stunned him stepping between him and my father— but recuperates quickly and his blue, angry eyes squint at me, following the trajectory of my body as my father tries to get me to safety.

  The wolf’s ears twitch and his stance lowers; in the blink of an eye he leaps forward, trapping me against a tree with his front paws on my shoulders.

  I think I’m screaming. I’m not sure. All I know is that my vision is blurry, my throat is burning, my fingers lost contact with my bow, and hot, humid breath is wafting all over my face, while a low, menacing rumble fills my ears blocking away any other sound.  

  I grit my teeth, clench my eyes, and turn my face away, bracing for long sharp teeth to sink into my flesh and snuff the life out of me.

  Instead, a slick, warm, leathery knob presses against my neck and inhales harshly. Coarse whiskers prickle my cheek and under my chin.

  I risk opening one eye to see why this crazy wolf isn’t ripping my throat wide open this second, but the big lupine is just sniffing me intently. I doubt he’s trying to be friendly though, he keeps grunting and hissing at me, actually breathing in my scent a little too aggressively.

  His friends crowd closer to us curiously, their noses pointing at me. The wolf restraining me lashes out, swiping a paw at them, growling something fierce, like he’s telling them I’m his and he’s not sharing. The other wolves retreat but keep on circling around us.

  I hear my father crying out my name. My mother does too, and the other wolves seem a little agitated, whimpering to their leader while keeping my parents at bay; they’re not really going after my parents, which is a relief, they’re just acting as wall separating me and the big fellow from them.

  The idea comes to me, that maybe this big guy is Alpha Mellark; after all, father went out looking for him.

  I try to swallow down the lump of fear choking me, and say shakenly, “Alpha Mellark, Sir? It’s me, Katniss.”

  The wolf tenses, and growls into my face baring his canines at me.

  I make the mistake of turning my face away in terror when I notice the big, scary, fangs are dripping blood and the fur on his snout is also covered in gore. I hope the mess belongs to some wild game and not somebody’s pet, like Prim’s beloved goat, Lady, for example.

  Seeing the access I just opened up, the wolf digs his nose into my exposed neck, and does something unexpected, he takes a tentative swipe of his tongue across my skin. That seems to calm him down, so stay stock still and let him lick the mess out of me to his heart’s content. He exhales slowly through his nostrils and then nuzzles my shoulder with his soft forehead.

  Encouraged by this gesture, I try again. “Sir,” my voice comes out tremulous, “I know something horrible was done to the Pack tonight, and I know that a debt has to be paid now. I volunteer as tribute. Take me, and spare my people. Please.”

  I’m pretty sure the other wolves heard me, because they start dancing and yapping excitedly in the background. The Alpha lifts his head growling lowly, his lips pull all the way back so I can see not only his sharp teeth but also his pink gums.

  I think to myself, this is it! He will shred me to pieces. I just hope he does leave my tribe alone after killing me.

  An image of sweet Prim as a toddler comes to mind, how tiny and cute she was. Another of us just days ago at the hot springs, while she brushed and braided my hair. I think of the things I’ll miss, like nephews and nieces, and my parents growing old, Rue singing while she gathers crops with her five little siblings… if only I had the chance to grow old to see all of that at least once more.

  The wolf puts his whole weight on one paw, almost crushing me to the ground; he howls standing on his hind legs and supporting his body on my shoulder, while his other leg curls in the air.

  The rest of the pack stops what they’re doing— at least the ones around us do— and howl to the sky in response.

  The sound is deep and piercing, deafening since I’m so close. Suddenly, all the pressure on my shoulder lifts up and I spill to the foot of the tree, falling on my rear, feeling every last acorn and twig I land on. The big wolf steps away from me, giving me one last stare, and then howls at his companions again, they do a lap around me and the tree, and take off running towards their own land beyond the river.

  “Katniss!” Gasps my father gathering me into his arms. I start to weep and shake. “Are you hurt? I tried to get to you sooner, but one of them stepped on your bow and broke it in half—“

  “We threw rocks and tried to go at them with clubs, but they just… ignored us. What did you tell him, the Prince?” Asks my mother looking me over, “Is this your blood?” She prods, moving the material of my jacket to the side around the neck area, where the wolf had been sniffing and licking me.

  “It’s not- it’s not my blood.” I shudder. “It was on the wolf… wait. That wasn’t Alpha Mellark? I thought it was the Alpha. All the others… they seemed to follow his lead.” I say gasping for air.

  “The Alpha was badly injured.” says Haymitch who’s come toward us unsteadily, holding his arm to his chest. “Ma’am, would you mind putting my arm in a sling when we get back home? I think something’s broken.” He tells my mother conversationally, as if he was just commenting on the weather.

  Mother makes a face while checking my neck, and discovering there isn’t even a scratch there. I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but I have a hunch she’ll be bombarding me questions back at the hut. Turning to Haymitch, she asses his arm is dislocated, so she tears a strip of clothing from the bottom of her cotton dress and makes a sling for the man’s arm. Father helps me up, his arm wraps around me protectively and I sink into his familiar warmth, taking in his scent.

  I’m trying not to think about losing him tonight, because then I’ll start crying again, and we simply don’t have the luxury to break down right now, not when we’re slowly shuffling back to the village, and we can see the tribesmen and women come out to receive us. The worry in their faces and then the relief of knowing that the chief and his family are all safe is almost heartbreaking.

  “Thank the almighty Sun, his rays are rising,” whispers my father. “The wolves will turn back to men and women soon, and we can seek for a parley to salvage what we can.” He sounds so tired, but the people around us look at him with hope in their eyes, knowing he’ll do all he can to stop the madness of the last few hours. “Rest and see to your families. We won’t solve anything for a few hours. Pray to Father Sun our Pack brethren find it in their hearts to forgive the ill advised actions of a few, in order to spare the rest of us.”

  With those words, he ducks inside Haymitch’s hut, next to ours. I doubt he’ll go to sleep, but he’ll have quiet and a chance to rest there, since our home is still being used to tend to the injured. It’s a relief to know everyone will recover fully in the next few weeks; it’s our livestock that worries me. Only a few animals have been recovered and the rest will have to be replaced, or we won’t have dairy or wool to prepare for winter.

  “Catnip, where have you been? I’ve looked all over for you!” Breathes out Gale jogging towards me.

  I turn around and go the opposite direction, but he catches up with me and spins me around by the elbow.

  “What happened to you? Did they hurt you?” He demands alarmed as soon as he sees the blood on the collar of my shirt.

  I shrug his hands off me and step away from him. “I’m fine. It’s not my blood.” I tell him dully.

  “Well, thank Father Sun you’re safe then.” He mutters softly. “Hap-happy birthday.” He says quietly.

  “Yeah. Very happy.” I finally turn away from him and this time he doesn’t stop me.

  —————

  The Pack representatives march into our village unopposed at noon. The sun is beating down on us, and everyone is gathered in the center of camp in what would be considered our plaza, which is just the well and some short trees with minimum greenery.

  My father, Haymitch, and an elderly man call Dalton, wait for the Alpha, who’s looking worse for wear, but not as hurt as I figured he’d be.

  I vaguely remember hearing my mother say that their kind heals twice as fast, so, maybe that’s the case this time around.

  Delly walks next to the Alpha, acting as his support. Then there’s the Prince, looking rather angry and lost, which makes my stomach uneasy. I don’t ever remember seeing him upset before; he’s always smiling when I’ve seen him.

  Beta Odair and a handful of other people from the pack follow, but there’s no future Madam Alpha to be seen, which I find peculiar, because I figured this would be a diplomatic event she’d attend on her fiancé’s arm.

  “My most esteemed ally.” starts my father.

  “Am I still that, my friend?” rasps out the Alpha painfully.

  I guess he’s not as well as I thought.

  “Sad day it is today, certainly. Innocent blood was spilt last night, and today we mourn a big loss.” says the Alpha.

  The Prince looks away from us, biting his lips down, fisting his hands until his knuckles turn white. His eyes fill with tears that won’t spill just yet.

  I wonder who it is Gale and his buddies killed?

  “It is a sad day indeed. And we offer our condolences and most sincere desire to bring justice to your people.” Says my father frowning.

  “That’s good my friends, since my son, Crown Prince Peeta, is here looking for retribution.” Alpha Mellark says grimly. “Prince Peeta’s betrothed, was taken from him in last night’s unexpected conflict.”

  There’s a collective intake of air around the villagers.

  “Prince Peeta demands the debt brought on by Lady Glimmer’s shed blood, be paid in full, today.”

  I take Prim’s arm and dig my blunt nails into her delicate skin.

  Calmly, she pries off my fingers, one at a time, and then holds my hand, squeezing it. “They won’t kill Gale.” She whispers doubtfully. “Father will figure something out.”

  I nod. Regardless of how angry I am at him right now, Gale’s still one of my oldest friends and the closest thing I’ve ever had to a big brother. I don’t want him to be executed any more than I want a war. But, he did attack the Pack treacherously and killed someone… the Prince’s future wife no less! My father has his work cut out for him negotiating peace with the Wolves this time.

  “What does the Prince suggest is owed to him to keep the peace?” Asks my father cautiously.

  The Alpha opens his mouth and closes it again. His brow knits together on his forehead, and his eyes flit towards my mother first, then to me, and then the prince himself takes a step forward, raises a finger towards me, and mother gasps aloud, a soul crushing “No!”

  “Chief’s daughter, Katniss.” Says Prince Peeta in a sour tone.

  “My daughter?” Demands my father, while the crowd murmurs and gasps.

  It’s Prim’s turn to dig her nails into my arm, except she’s trying in vain to hide me behind her slight frame. “Not my sister! That’s not an even trade!” Prim screams flailing in front of me, shielding me from the wolves.

  I’m numb. I didn’t think he’d spare me last night, just to make my execution public today… on my birthday!

  “There has to be another way,” Father begs, “There must be—“

  “I need a wife!” Calls the Prince loudly, “I was robbed one, so I’m taking a new one. The best fitting one. Katniss Everdeen,” he points at me again, “she’s the price to be paid. A bride for a bride.”

  “You can’t take her for a wife! She’s a human woman, our kinds don’t mix!” Argues Gale coming to stand next to Prim.

  Peeta moves so fast it’s scary. In a second he’s grabbed Gale by the collar and has him pressed to the side of the well.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, son of the Sun, Katniss is half my kind. Our races mix just fine. Unlike that aunt of yours, children can be born to human and wolf parents. I suggest you start thinking, before you open your mouth.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gale asks as puzzle as I feel, not even bothering to fight Peeta off.

  My mother tries to argue. “But my daughter, she’s your kin—“

  “She should be of marrying age by now. Yes?” Says Alpha Mellark almost with regret. “A marriage is all my son seeks. No more blood spilled. No revenge and no war. Just marriage. If you agree with our terms, we will give you a week to prepare the exchange, and this incident will never be spoken of ever again.”

  My father looks at me, his gray eyes red rimmed and full of conflicting emotions. “Katkin,” he finally addresses me, “As of today, you are of age. I cannot make this decision for you. As your Chief, I must ask you to consider the wellbeing of your tribesmen and women. As your father, I will support whatever you choose to do, to the bitter end.”  

  “Even if it means war?” I ask in a scratchy voice ignoring Gale’s rantings even restrained by the Prince.

  “Even so, Katkin.”

  I shift my eyes to the Prince. My stomach does a flip when his dilated pupils meet my eyes. He looks so crazed and in pain, so wild. My dreams of lustfull werewolves emerged unbidden from my subconscious, and I feel a heaviness in my core, a foreboding excitement, and a curious pull to this man. I have to shake my head from the inappropriate thoughts and feelings. He’s grieving and he’s a werewolf. I would never lay with an animal in my right mind, that’s disgusting!

  But then I look at my people, faces haggard from the long vigil last night, fearful eyes, and determination to fight for me if necessary.

  I won’t have their blood on my hands or in my conscious.

  There’s only one answer to give. “I’ll marry the Prince in a weeks time if that will save our people.”

  “No!” Gale screams, finally throwing off Peeta’s hold and rushing to me. “You can’t do that! You’re supposed to marry me!”

  It’s the last straw. My anger comes out in scalding hot tears to equal the fire and brimstone I unleash on Gale.

  “This is all your fault, Gale Hawthorne! You allowed that harpy, Alma, fill your mind and heart with so much hatred, you couldn’t see beyond your own righteousness. Even if I’d wanted to marry you, which I’ve never agreed to, now I have to think of our whole community. Not just the tribe, but the Pack as well! You burned down their food supply and now you killed someone. If all they require from us to forgive this affront is my hand in marriage, then they can have it. I already volunteered to save the tribe anyway.

  “Now stop this nonsense and learn from your mistakes. Never let Alma influence your thoughts, or your chiefdom will be the shortest one in history, and it’ll be in constant conflict. Think of your family for once. Your mother and siblings are so precious and valuable, don’t let them be destroyed because of pride, or resentment, or greed. Ask yourself, what’s in it for your aunt? Maybe you won’t like the answers so much. Now, excuse me. I have a marriage to prepare for.”

  “Katniss…” Peeta’s broken voice calls, but I ignore him too, fed up with guys and their testosterone competitions.

  I push my way away from the crowd. I don’t want to stick around and hear anything else. All I know is that I have to leave before I do something really stupid, like cry in front of the Prince.

  —————-

  I’m running in the woods, only the stars shine down on the path. It’s not enough light to see where I’m going, so I try extra hard not to trip on roots or dislodged rocks.

  I can hear the wolf howling before I see him. I recognize this one, it’s big and fast, and his eyes are dilated and wide; I can’t see the white in them. His coat is silvery and shiny under the night sky, and I wonder were the moon could be. I think it’s the wolf himself emitting light, but I can’t be sure.

  The wolf overtakes me after a moment running. He tackles me to the ground and licks my neck and nuzzles my jaw. He licks my lips while the claws of his humanoid hands rip my clothes to shreds.

  “Peeta… not like this.” I sigh digging my fingers into his soft fur.

  “How then?” He asks in that deep, velvety voice of his, and when I look at him, he’s a man again.

  “Not like this…”

  Something is about to give when sobbing drags me back to wakefulness, all sweaty and bothered.

  “Not like this!” Whispers my mother in the family room separated from our sleeping quarters by pelts and skins. “I knew this was going to happen! The Prince’s eyes have always strayed to her. I thought it was done with the moment my cousin announced that marriage contract with that Glimmer girl. I should have known he’d find a way to get my daughter at the end.”

  “If you’re right, and Sweetheart caught the Boy’s eye before now, maybe it was meant to be. It’s not like the Prince could’ve planned something so callous, getting rid of the fiancée so violently, to go after Sweetheart.” Says Haymitch, which surprises me. “It was all Alma’s schemes,”

  “Now, now, we do not know that this was her doing for sure. But what does the Chief say about this mess?” Responds Effie stiffly.

  “I think it’s all too confusing and emotional a burden for a seventeen year old to bear. On the other hand, the Prince is only nineteen himself, he could have become alpha last night and that may had scared him, added to the grief of losing his future mate. He’s not thinking straight, and has given himself only one week to come to his senses. I could try talking to the Alpha again. He may be on our side on this.”

  “I don’t know. Things are so unstable at the moment, like standing on thin ice, one wrong move, and we all fall to our doom.”

  “We can’t think that way…”

  Prim leans up on her bedroll, our eyes meet, then with the grace of a cat, she scoots from her bed to mine, and hugs me to her. “It’ll be fine; I know it will.” She whispers into my hair.

  The hushed voices outside quiet down abruptly, and I know my mother is aware we’re eavesdropping. She always knows when we do if we don’t stay perfectly still.

  That doesn’t deter Prim.

  “You’re the strongest person I know, if the Wolves want you, it’s because they know you’re better than them.”

  “Who’s supposed to be the big sister here?” I ask with slow tears trailing down my face. “How did you get so smart little Duck?”

  “Living with you. Something had to rub on.” We smile at each other sadly.

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too!”

  We huddle together under my covers the rest of the week, enjoying each other’s love as much as we can.

  —————

  The week goes by fast. I put all my affairs in order, and yet, it doesn’t feel like enough time to say goodbye to a life I took for granted.

  My father builds me a new bow with his own hands, and his work is exquisite as always, just this time, he’s outdone himself by carving delicate katniss blooms all over the bow’s limbs and grip, and then he puts a black polish on it, making the designs pop.

  I’m not sure how he makes it so fast, but I’m glad he’s given me back part of my identity with such a amazing gift.

  My mother fits me into all her old calico print dresses from her years growing up with the pack, and cries when I choose to wear a pretty blue number that buttons up on the front, instead of my deerskin trousers and old leather jacket that used to belong to my father in his youth. I still pack those in my game bag before shouldering my bow and quiver. Father didn’t have time to make me a matching quiver, but I tell him it’s for the best, I’ll have an excuse to see him when he does make it. He smiles at that for the first time since all this nightmare started and kisses my forehead lovingly.

  “I like how you think, Katkin.” He caresses my cheek with his thumb and sighs. “It’s time. Your groom should be waiting by the river by now.”

  I nod. I know if I talk all that will come out is ugly crying, and I can’t allow that right now.

  So we march with half the tribe to the river,where indeed a large group from the ack is congregated waiting for me.

  Prince Peeta is crouching on our side, doodling something on the wet dirt with his fingers. Beta Odair is next to him, and has to kick him on the boot to alert him of our presence. Peeta stands straight and dusts his hands on his pants, then he starts patting down his hair. His eyes keep shifting between the ground and the people around him, and finally he swipes his foot over whatever doodles he’d made on the ground. He keeps fiddling with his fingers, until Odair leans in and says something into his ear. After that, Peeta brings his hands behind his back and tries to smile at me… but his eyes and mouth don’t seem to be able to stay put in just one position.

  “I think he’s nervous, poor dear.” Says Prim giggling.

  “I’m glad you find this amusing!” I hiss at her under my breath.

  “Ow. You’d find it amusing too if you were as convinced as I am that he’s had a crush on you all along.”

  “He did not! His fiancée got killed!” I say crossly, “This is just a transaction that needed to be made.”

  Prim shakes her head. “I know.” Her voice is finally devoid of amusement. “But I heard what mother said about him always staring at you, and that is a fact.”

  “Well… just because one looks at a person, doesn’t mean they’re attracted to them. Maybe he thought I was some kind of odd duckling.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Shhh!” Goes my mother and just in time to meet the Prince and Odair.

  The Prince seems to be having a hard time speaking right now. His eyes are wide, but not the least bit as crazed and pained as last week. Today his eyes are nervous and, dare I say, excited?

  “Chief Everdeen, and his most beautiful ladies.” Odair bows in greeting, then gives Peeta a small push, making him stumble closer to us.

  Peeta’s eyes fix on my father though, and I don’t know if what I’m feeling right now is disappointment or relief.

  “Sir, I… I owe you an apology for my behavior last week. I promise I would never put fair Katniss under such stress again… if she still agrees to grant me the honor of calling her my wife…” he hesitates and finally looks at me. “Please?”

  His eyes are so sad and pleading, and that uncomfortable thing is back twisting my stomach, only this time it feels like a band of birds are swooping up and down in there.

  “I gave you my word I would marry you, unless you’re prepared to give my people a full pardon without the deal?” I pose to him.

  His lips twitch, and then form a thin line. “I will do what you ask of me, my lady. I’ll move my Pack away from here, if that’s what you prefer. I’m at your command.”

  He’s so serious and solemn, I have no choice but to believe him. I don’t dare look at my parents, least of all Primrose, because her voice is still ringing in my ears from earlier, “… he’s had a crush on you all along… and that is a fact.”

  I swallow thickly. “The marriage stands if you promise to keep peace between our peoples.” I say staring right into his eyes, that have noticeably softened.

  His shoulders relax at my words, his facial expression becomes less nervous. I think he was afraid I’d change my mind, which now makes me wonder if he changed his mind. But then why act so tense and anxious?

  “If we are all in agreement, then it is time.” Says my father clearing his voice a couple of times.

  “Thank you!” Prince Peeta says shaking my father’s hand. “I promise your daughter will be treated with all the respect and love our alpha ladies before her have had. She will be free to see you anytime she wants, and with Father Sun and Mother Moon as our witnesses, this union will strengthen the bonds between Seams and Wolves. There will be no wars between us as long as we can live in harmony.”

  “May this be a new era of peace and prosperity for all. Go with my blessing, and produce many children.” My father puts my hand into Prince Peeta’s, and then the prince scoops me up in his arms, startling me, and we cross the river with my father’s blessing.

  I’m a wolf bride now.

  I take a look over Peeta’s shoulder and see my parents and Prim holding on to each other tightly. Gale is crying quietly while his mother rubs his back and his brothers mind Posy. Alma is nowhere to be seen which is just fine by me. My people are safe; it’s all that matters.

  My arms sit uselessly on my lap, until we come to a point in the river where the water is deep and the currents are strong.

  “Could I ask you to hold on to my shoulders while we wade through this part?” Asks the prince softly.

  My cheeks heat up, and I look at Beta Odair out of the corner of my eye, but the man is stoically looking away from us.

  “I can swim across if I need to, you know.” I tell him quietly. “Or we could borrow a canoe from my father.”

  Peeta chuckles. “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly from your groom, would it now?” He eyes me for a moment before concentrating back on the currents. “No. Carrying you ashore is the way of my people, and the least I could do after uprooting you from your home.” He says sadly.

  I sigh, but circle my arms around his thick neck all the same. My heart starts beating faster. I’ve never touched another person so… intimately before. Maybe Prim, but she’s my sister.

  “Is this alright?” I mumble awkwardly.

  “Perfect!” He responds brightly. “By the way. Thank you for not changing your mind about… all this.”

  “Mmm… and you? Have you changed your mind?” I ask and pull back trying to catch his eye.

  He shakes his head. “I do have to apologize for the way things went though. I was… angry. But that’s no excuse for my actions. I attacked you while in my wolf form, and then I marched into your town and demanded your hand in marriage like a petulant brat. I’ve been plagued with remorse ever since.” He licks his lips, “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

  “You didn’t scare me. You were like a… large, snuggly puppy, acting up.”

  Peeta gives me a look arching his eyebrow, “Ma’am, you and I seem to have very different recollections of the events. Plus, calling a grown wolf a puppy is a bit… demeaning.”

  I scowl at him, “Whatever happened with, you’ll be at my command, and you’ll do anything I say?”

  “Well, well. It seems little Miss Katniss is full of sass!” Says Odair with a smirk, still looking away from us. “I guess our Alpha was right. This one has the spirit of the Mockingjay!”

  My eyes return to Peeta who’s smiling smugly. “I seem to recall saying that myself.”

  “I don’t understand. The spirit of the Mockingjay?”

  “Oh it’s a legend passed down from father to son in our clan. I’m sure the Prince will tell you all about it once the festivities subside.” Odair winks and Peeta blushes, trying to hide a smile.

  For reasons I can’t understand, I feel myself blush as well.

  The water levels decrease from Peeta’s chest down to his waist and in no time we are back on shallow, rocky terrain. I gave Finnick Odair my bow back on my tribe’s shore, and he held it above his head while crossing the river, so when he hands it back over dry and safe, I reward him with a smile and my thanks.

  Delly is waiting for us with a big crowd of their people. She hugs me when Peeta sets me on my feet and the rest of the pack bows to us as we walk through.

  Growing up the daughter of the Chief, I never got treated any differently than other girls my age from lower rank families, so this reception is completely alien and new to me. I watch Delly and the others and follow their cues, bowing back and waving at the people around us.

  A little girl runs up to me with a bouquet of wild onion flowers and the image hits me like a one ton buffalo running full speed at my gut. I think of a younger Gale, during happier, carefree times before his mind and heart got so corrupted with envy and anger. It’s the type of plant he’d gather for eating back then.

  I take the flowers from the girl and thank her. She gives us a toothy smile and rushes away to her mother, giggling something about “the Princess is so pretty,” which again, makes me feel strange, because technically, I am a princess in my tribe, but have never heard anyone refer to me that way, so hearing a little girl call me a princess here, just makes the situation more bizarre.

  I start fiddling nervously with the end of my braid, but then a little boy points at me and declares he’s “going to marry a princess with hair as dark as a Mockingjay’s feathers.” My eyes widened and I let go of my braid like it’s burning my fingers.

  “You know, I actually said those exact same words once as a little boy.” Says Peeta in a conspiratorial tone, before playfully bumping my shoulder with his.

  I blink at him. The day can’t get any more weird. “Is that the standard rebellious fantasy for little Wolves?”

  I inhale deeply, closing my eyes to pretend I didn’t just blurt out those words. But Peeta starts laughing, so I look at him again puzzled by his reaction.

  He shrugs, and nods to some people that come forth to greet us. “When I was fourteen, I told my father I was ready to offer my marriage proposal to the girl of my dreams. I got turned down. It all worked out in the end; I got blessed with a beautiful, witty soon to be wife. I’m sure that young fellow will be alright if he doesn’t get to marry his Mockingjay haired princess.”

  Peeta’s lopsided smile makes looking at him in the face so hard. Why did have to say that to me today of all days?

  “You must have loved Glimmer so much. I’m so sorry for your loss.” I regret the words immediately, because his whole body tenses and his expression darkness, then he forces a smile.

  “Glimmer,” He says, “Although I did love her, she was not my first choice for a bride.”

  I shut my big mouth for the duration of the walk, just to avoid shoving both my feet in it again.

  We come to an actual town with cabins made of logs, mud, and straw. The windows are made of thin glass and the doors are solid wood. The paths are compressed dirt, just like back home, but they have more grass around their houses than we do around our huts.

  We come to the biggest cabin in the settlement, it looks to be two stories high, with two chimneys sticking out of the roof on each side of the building. There’s pleasant smell of yeast and sugar wafting from the place as well, and I inhale the aromas almost greedily.

  “Welcome to the Alpha’s home!” Says Delly grabbing my hand and dragging me with her to the door. “You’ll be lodging here until the wedding, tomorrow. Your belongings will be stored at the Prince’s new house next door, and I’ll be chaperoning you until you’re officially married!” Delly claps excitedly.

  “I didn’t know the wedding was tomorrow.” I say confusedly.

  “Oh yes! Your family and a few members of your tribe will attend. It’ll be grand! I think it’s the first time your people will visit town since your folks married twenty years ago! So exciting!”

  I’m trying to hide how uncomfortable I am, because I don’t want to offend anyone, especially not someone as nice and bubbly as Delly, but I’m the opposite of excited at the prospect of a grand wedding, and I hope it doesn’t show on my face.

  “Well, my lady. I’ll leave you in very competent hands. My father will be eager to see you. And I’ll come by for supper. According to my clan’s traditions our interactions should be kept to the minimum until after the wedding.”

  “Oh, of course.” Effie mentioned something about this in her unending ravings about Wolf weddings and traditions, but I tuned her out every single time she started blabbing about it. Now I wish I had been paying attention, I would be familiar with Pack culture right now.

  In my tribe, we have different rules. A couple comes of age, they negotiate a marriage contract that could mutually benefit their families. Then they have a toasting ceremony, where the couple takes turns toasting bread in their new hut’s hearth, and then feed it to each other and that’s enough ceremony to consider them legally married. Brides and grooms can see one another any time they want leading to their toasting, why some couples don’t toast until the woman is with child, but that happens so seldom.

  We go inside the house, and it surprises me to see that the first floor is almost all a gigantic kitchen, with a long counter closer to what my mother would call a ‘parlor’, and many tables on the other side of the counter with an assortment of baking tools. Two stone ovens stand at the far end wall, radiating warmth to the rest of the place. Now that I’m inside the building, the aromas I smelled out in the street make my mouth water. My stomach decides to groan loudly, hoping for a piece of fresh bread.

  “We only baked two loaves today,” Says Delly glancing at me knowingly.

  I wonder if I said the words aloud, or if I’ve been staring a the ovens with too much interest that gave me away.

  “The Mellarks have always been the Pack’s bakers even before overthrowing the Snows, and taking over as our leaders. They still bake for the most part, but since now we have to ration our wheat, they haven’t been producing as much.”

  I scowl at that. I didn’t think of the many ways the Pack was affected on their everyday lives after their wheat fields burn down. I feel indignation on the Mellarks behalf.

  “Katniss! My dear girl, welcome to my house!” Says Alpha Mellark in a booming voice coming from upstairs. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the river, to welcome you properly, but my leg hasn’t healed all the way yet, and I rather be able to come to your wedding tomorrow, than aggravating the wounds.”

  Delly rushes up to the Alpha to help him down the stairs.

  “I- I understand. Thank you for taking me in.” I say gratefully and a little shyly, but the man just walks up to me and gives me a bear hug that nearly lifts me off the floor.

  “Delly, take the future princess to her room and see that she’s comfortable. I’ll be in the backyard if you ladies like to join me for lemonade after you’ve rested.”

  The rest of the house is tidy and simple. There aren’t any luxuries we lack back home, except maybe for the indoor privy, but other than that, everything looks very similar.

  Delly is nice and good for a laugh. We get along great, and she keeps talking my ears off about how great the Prince is and how happy she is there’s another woman in the household now.

  It occurs to me that I have no idea what will become of Delly now that I’m the next woman in line to the ‘throne’.

  “So, will you still be acting Madam Alpha after I marry the Prince officially?” I ask her.

  Delly twists her pink lips to the side for a moment and shrugs. “I’m not sure, but it will be a relief if I’m demoted, really. Not that it is a bad position, and I still will have to look after uncle, now more than ever since he’s hurt. But I won’t have to adhere so closely to protocol, and people will stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

  “No. They’ll shift that onto me.” I groan before I can stop myself.

  Delly giggles. “Of course not, silly. The reason I get treated like I’m some fragile vase, is because nobody thinks I’m capable of much, while everyone, even in the Pack, knows how strong and daring you are. Why, you’re a hunter, and I’m not, even in wolf form.” She pouts, before smiling at me. “It’s one of the things the Prince has always admired about you. He used to brag about how you could shoot squirrels through the eye every single time!”

  Well, that’s as humbling as it is surprising. I wonder how did the prince even know about my shooting skills?

  Delly sighs dramatically, “I can’t even tell you how distraught Peeta was when he heard your bow got damaged during that awful night. But I see you have a new one, and very pretty at that.” She glances at my bow leaning against the wall next to the old quiver.

  I smile. “My father made for me as a birthday present.”

  “Oh that’s right. Your seventeenth birthday got ruined.” Her tone turns sour. “It’s a shame such and important day got tainted in that horrible way. For years, Peeta has talked about baking you a cake for your seventeenth birthday.”

  “Why would the prince want to bake me a cake for my birthday?” I ask puzzled, “We just met two weeks ago.”

  Delly looks at me for a moment, and then smiles sweetly, almost sadly. “The prince has admired you from afar since he was a little boy. It’s not my story to tell, but I know he begged the Alpha to request you for his bride once before. The birthday cake was a dream of his I guess; he thought he could impress you with his frosting skills. I’m not sure if he would have still tried to bake you that birthday cake since he was engaged to Glimmer, but he sure has worked hard on your wedding cake, now that you’re his bride.”

  “That’s… not possible.” I say blushing furiously. “It can’t be. The prince would have to have liked me for years…”

  “He has.” Says Delly soothingly. “Your mother was aware… lets say she wasn’t particularly fond of the idea, and she let the Alpha know. So other arrangements had to be made.”

  This is unexpected news!

  “The Prince wanted to marry me? And mother declined? But… Glimmer. He looked so… content.”

  “Well, of course he was content, him and Glimmer became good friends and even got infatuated with each other. But being content is not the same as being in love, and while the Prince and Lady Glimmer were sweet on each other…” Delly stays quiet for a bit, “He was going to demand the execution of your tribesman, Hawthorne, you know.

  “Hawthorne’s arrow pierced the Alpha’s hind leg and nearly took his life. It’s still not clear who was responsible for Lady Glimmer’s demise, but she took a spear for a former lover of hers before she was engaged to Peeta, some lower tier wolf named Marvel. The prince was in a very dark place when your father found his patrol while seeking the Alpha.

  “Peeta’s ashamed to admit that only that encounter with you, when you came between him and the Chief calmed him enough to see that revenge would not bring him any sort of relief. But he was still too enraged and hurt to let it go, so he demanded a bride, instead of Hawthorne’s life. He’s regretted the way he acted ever since.”

  “He could’ve come and retracted his deal!” I snap.

  “Then we would’ve been back on war’s doorstep. It wasn’t an option until he had a chance to see you again, and coming to your territory was forbidden by your tribe’s elders once we left.”

  I breathe in harshly. “All the same. He could have said something.”

  “You can still refuse to marry him.” She offers.

  I balk. I’m not sure why, but I can’t go back on my word now, so I shake my head stubbornly. “It’s not an option either.”

  —————-

  I don’t sleep a wink all night, so my aunt, Effie, tries to hide the purple bags under my eyes with every berry dye she can find matching my skin tone, while lecturing me about the importance of a good night’s rest, as if I’m not aware I look like death warmed over.

  The dinner the evening before was quiet and just a bit awkward. Conversation didn’t come very easy to me after the talk with Delly, but I’ve never been the conversational type anyway. Peeta kept staring at me all night in what I think he believed were inconspicuous glances, but his eyes were never fast flitting away the times I caught him looking.

  He kissed the top of my hand before leaving for the night, making the flock of birds in my stomach go berserk. There was barely room enough for so many wings flapping around in my belly, and then, the beds were too soft. Back home we sleep on 2 inch deep bedrolls on pelts over the floor. It’s firm, and at times uncomfortable, but it’s what I’m used to.

  Here, everything was stuffed with down: Hot, too soft, down. I never thought I’d complain about my pillows being too soft, but here I am.

  Prim is in awe at all the houses and green areas between. She’s already planning on starting a garden back home, somewhere around the well or something. She did give me good news about Lady, her nanny goat, turning up yesterday afternoon and with a billy goat in tow.

  One less thing to worry about.

  “Come, come, Katniss. Today is a big, big, big day for all of us, and time is running out. We still need to fix your hair—“

  “I say. Her hair could’ve use some moisturizer days ago.” Says a voice I wish to never hear again for the rest of my life.

  “Oh for the love of Father Sun! Who let you in, Alma? Please, go back to the guests section. This is only for immediate family!”

  I’ve never heard Effie sound so crossed… and impolite. I’m in awe!

  Alma looks absolutely murderous, but she knows Effie is right. “I just came to wish the… Princess, a happy wedding day. Nothing else.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. Now, please, if you don’t mind, Aunt Effie is right, this place is for my immediate family only.” Our eyes meet for a moment, and I can feel the venom in her gaze.

  She hates me, and if she had any power at all, I’m sure she’d use it to start her own war against me. I just hope Gale learned his lesson, because I won’t hesitate in shooting the old hag next time I have her in my crosshairs.

  “The gall!” Effie snorts, but soon she’s too invested brushing my hair to perfection, that mother and Prim have to pry her off my poor scalp when is time to join my groom in front of his people outside.

  If Peeta looked nervous yesterday when he came to collect me, today he’s the picture of confidence. He smiles politely at the guests, and waves greetings to everyone. He has an animated conversation with Haymitch and Dalton, and keeps tipping a bottle of white liquor into Haymitch’s cup. Must be the reason the old man is looking so glad.

  My mother takes me aside and gives me the most uncomfortable talk ever, about my duties as a new wife. I beg her to stop, or I’ll never be able to look at my groom in the face the rest of my life.

  Then, my father takes my hand and mutely walks me towards the prince. His hand squeezes mine tightly, more and more the closer we come to Peeta. Once he offers my hand to my soon to be husband, it takes an awkward second for him to fully let go.

  “Sir, I swear I’ll take care of her with my life. I give you my word. So help me Father Sun, she will be the happiest, most loved woman in my domain.”

  “I’ll hold you to that vow, son.” Rasps my father, giving me one last squeeze. “I love you, Katniss. It’s an honor, having you as my daughter.”

  “Oh, Father.” I choke back a sob, “the honor is mine!” I hug him and kiss his cheek, and then I let Peeta pull me away to face Alpha Mellark.

  The ceremony is short and simple. The Alpha speaks of our bonds and our alliance. He speaks of honor and love, and then gives us a blessing on behalf of Father Sun and Mother Moon. Peeta kisses my forehead and a feast sprouts seemingly out of nowhere.

  There’s so much food and drink, I have to ask, “Shouldn’t we save all this for the winter months?” I whisper into Peeta’s ear.

  He smiles at me. “Don’t worry, my lady. This is a joint effort, and both our peoples contributed equally to it. If something is leftover, we will divide it and give back to the people to take home and feast later on.”

  “Alright, if you say so.”

  Peeta takes my hand, and looks into my eyes. “I assure you, everything is accounted for, and nothing will go to waste.”

  I nod.

  “Katniss,” He says after a moment of silence, “Could I ask you to dance with me?”

  The question takes me by surprise, because I’m his wife now; he can take me dancing whenever he wants, but it’s the shyness in his voice and the way his eyes blink, I find it endearing.

  “It’s our wedding. I think it would be a complete travesty if we didn’t dance.” I tell him smirking.

  He chuckles in response.

  I’m getting addicted to the sound of his laugh to be honest, so when he offers me his elbow, I take it without hesitation and follow him to the middle of the square where our wedding took place, and wait until the few musicians playing the fiddles and flutes start a lively ditty and then we spin, hop, and twirl to the effervescent rhythm.

  Peeta is not bad, and while I’m only used to Prim as my dance partner, we do pretty well for our first time on the dance floor.

  The night sneaks up on us dancing. Once we started, we didn’t stop. I had so much fun with the Prince, I forgot why we were here to begin with, so it was a bit of a let down and an eye opener, when my father approached me and wished me a good night.

  Father assured me they would set up tents by the river to sleep tonight and cross the waters in the morning, so I could come see them out. It was little consolation, but it does take my worry away, knowing they won’t be risking the river at night, when visibility is limited and anything could happen.

  I stand staring at my family and tribe walk towards the river, and Peeta joins me with a coat he drapes over my shoulders. I’m grateful when I realize it’s my father’s old hunting jacket, the one I hid at the bottom of my game bag, which tells me he found my deerskin trousers and my moccasin boots, yet he doesn’t seem to mind them.

  “We will see them in the morning,” He says quietly. “But you must be exhausted. Let me take you home.” He proposes hopefully.

  “Okay.” I give him my hand to hold, and it seems it was the right response, because he’s beaming brighter than the moon above us.

  We say our good nights to the Alpha, and go on to our new place, the cabin next to the big house where the Alpha lives with Delly.

  “I took the liberty of unpacking your things with your mother’s help,” Delly whispers while hugging me. “Your mother left you a little gift in the washroom.” The girl giggles. “Good luck!”

  Odair says something to Peeta, and then winks at me. A woman with long dark hair and a very pretty face smacks the Beta on the chest and frowns at him disapprovingly. Odair laughs and kisses the woman on the lips, and that’s when I notice the protruding bump the woman sports around the belly.  

  I can only assume I’m looking at Madam Beta and her unborn child. Who would’ve thought Finnick Odair was happily married?

  But the thought gives me pause.

  Peeta is my husband now, and he’s leading me to our new house, where there’s no doubt a too soft down bed waiting for us.

  I curse my mother’s timing with her talk about wifely duties. Now I’m all shaken and wondering if those strange dreams I used to have will come true now that I’m married to a werewolf. Would he want to have intercourse during the full moon while he’s not human?

  By the time we come to our front door, I can hardly breathe.

  “Here we are. Home!” Says Peeta turning to me with this wide smile that quickly falters. “Katniss, what’s wrong?” He asks cupping my face into his hands, a worried frown on his forehead.

  “I… I’ve never… I—“

  Peeta pushes the door open and scoops me up into his arms, much like yesterday, and brings me inside, to the tiny living area, where he deposits me on a chair and kneels before me.

  “Breathe, Sweetheart.” He tells me. “Do I need to fetch your mother?” He asks quietly.

  I shake my head, no, and try to calm myself down. “I’m sorry.” I finally get out. “I just panicked for a moment, because…” Again my words get stuck in my throat.

  Peeta’s eyes search me for a moment, and then something like understanding passes through his face. “Katniss, it’s alright if you need time to adapt. You weren’t planning on marrying me two weeks ago. This is all so new and unexpected for you. It’s fine to be apprehensive.”

  “I have duties to you.” I say in a small voice avoiding his eyes.

  “Your only duty is to tell me how can I help you make this transition more bearable for you. I’ll do anything you want. I’ve already told you that.” His voice is soft and his hands rub warmth into mine, until I can look into his eyes again. So blue, so sweet.

  “Gale kissed me when I was fifteen, after I boasted aloud I was never going to get married. He claimed he had to do that, at least once.” I’m not sure why I’m telling him all this, other than it’s the only thing I can think of right now. “I think he thought he’d change my mind by the time I was of age. I guess he never had a real chance once you came in the picture?” I give a strained laugh. “Also, I’ve been having these oddly erotic dreams about werewolves the past few months. I don’t know how to feel about them. I don’t normally remember the dreams when I wake up, but on my birthday, you licked me when you were a wolf, and I thought you were going to… you know… I’ve never been with a man, let alone a wolf, and I don’t think I want to sleep with you while you’re a wolf, so… there’s that—“

  “Whoa! Katniss, back up there.” He says taking my face again because I keep staring at my lap instead of him. “Sweetheart, that’s not how things will be between us. Not ever. I’ll be a wolf for a night every full moon, you’ll stay home under lock and key, and I will come back to you the next day, when I’m a man again.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you feel threatened during our encounter that night. It was nice introducing my wolf to the girl I’ve dreamed off for so long, and he rather liked you too, enough to let me take control of my mind over my killer instincts. But Katniss, my wolf won’t ever have sex with you, unless you turn into a wolf yourself, and that’s something I will never ask of you. The process is painful and frightening.”

  “You’re being oddly understanding.” I blurt out. “Why? How are you so calm and collected?”

  “I’m not.” He says shrugging, then sits cross legged on the rug at my feet. “I’m actually freaking out because you just spilled your guts all over me, and now I feel like I should come clean to you too.”

  He eyes me from the corner of his eyes, before looking away.

  “I’ve been jealous of Gale even before officially meeting you. I knew your mother was hoping you’d marry him, because she was afraid of me coming to claim you and turn you into the mutt I am. I asked for her permission to talk to you at least once each year since you were eleven. I wanted to court you so badly, but your mother always said no. By the time you were sixteen, I had heard so many variants of why I should stay away from you, I was convinced you were better off without ever knowing me, so I dedicated all my attention to Glimmer instead.

  “Glimmer was a werewolf, she could be a wife and a good Madam Alpha, she was sweet when she wanted to be, but the prospect of her title started to go to her head. My infatuation with you was the worst kept secret among the pack, so I tried avoiding you and thinking of you when I got engaged to Glim. It was alright for a time, but then I would catch a whiff of your scent in the air, and I’d be drawn to it like flies to flame. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I knew you were at the river doing your washing rituals that morning.”

  I stare at him incredulously. “So Gale was right to attack you?” I ask more sarcastically than actually angry.

  He shakes his head. “I never meant for things to go the way they did. I just wanted to see you for a second, then go on my way. But I forget your mother can sense other wolves, particularly me when you’re around.”

  “So she overreacted is what you’re saying? And this here mess is all your fault anyway?”

  He shrugs. “I usually just want to hear you sing, really. On days you’re out hunting I’ve tread as close to you as I could without being seen, and waited until you sing or hum a song, and then I’d scurry away when my heart was full again with the lovely music from your voice.” He falls silent. “It’s just ironic that an ill advised decision cost me my fiancée’s life and your mother’s overreacting ended with you married to me. Both of our worst fears became true, just because we couldn’t dial down our impulses.”

  “You like my singing?” Is all I can think to ask.

  He smiles to his boots. “I adore your singing. It’s my favorite thing in this world followed by watching a beautiful sunset.”

  “When did you hear me singing?” I roll my eyes at myself, since he just confessed he’s been stalking me while I sang in the woods. “Where have you heard me singing?”

  Peeta looks at me. “The first time, you were around five years old. You were singing The Valley Song to a group of children by the river. Then, every time the Chief took you hunting, he’d start a song and then you’d chirp it away and I swear every bird around would fall silent to hear you both singing.” He clears his voice. “It’s the first thing your mother fell in love with, after meeting your father, you know. His singing voice. Then after I heard yours, I knew, just like your mother, I was a goner.”

  “You’re making this up. You can’t possibly have liked me all those years.”

  “Oh no, it’s a true story.”

  “But… why never say hi? Why listen to my mother? You could’ve just show up and when I was alone, you know. That whole thing you did on my birthday, demanding a wife. That would’ve worked too without all the drama.” I wave my hand vaguely at him, but he winces.

  I’m about to apologize convinced that I’ve offended him, but he shakes his head.

  “That was so wrong of me, Katniss. I shouldn’t have forced you into this marriage like that. I twisted your arm. Heck, I twisted everyone’s arms. I’m sorry.”

  I risk touching his cheek, startling him. His eyes widened, looking up at me.

  “Don’t be sorry. Just… be a good husband and keep to your promise of peace, and we will be fine.”

  “I will do that. For you.” He takes my hand and presses a kiss to the top.

  My reaction is instantaneous. A low heat burns my loins, every nerve-end fires up, and my lips suddenly feel dry and needy.

  “We should get ready for bed.” I say without thinking of the implications.

  He nods, but I catch the way his pupil contracts to a point, before expanding back to normal. “I’ll show you to the bedroom. I can take a bedroll out here if you want me to.”

  I don’t say anything to that. I’m not sure what I want, not until I’m in the small bathroom and see that gift my mother left behind for me. It’s a delicate nightgown I’ve seen her in a handful of times. I know it’s one of her favorites from where she lived here with the pack. It has lace on the top and very low neckline that most likely will leave half of my chest exposed, and the rest is a gossamer material that feels like nothing to the touch.

  I put it on, and feel beautiful in it. Beautiful enough to ask a boy to follow me into bed.

  I unbraid my hair and finger comb it because it feels like the right thing to do, and then wash my face in the basin. I pat my skin dry and look at my reflection in the mirror by the basin. My cheeks are a nice rosy color, whether from the sun or my own blood pooling on my cheeks, I’m not sure, but I think it looks rather appealing, and I cross my fingers, hoping Peeta thinks so too.

  I come out of the washroom, pushing down my nervousness by twirling a lock of hair around my fingers. “Peeta?” I call him softly.

  “Is the bathroom available—?” I hear his breath hitch as soon as he turns from the bedroll his unfurling on the floor and his eyes land on me.

  His Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat and find it mesmerizing. His mouth is open, but no sounds come from it for a while, so I dig around for some courage and speak before he can regain his voice.

  “Come to bed with me?”

  All he does is nod curtly and abandons his bedroll where it is, taking my hand in his, and although I delivered the invitation, he’s the one leading the way.

  “We don’t… have to do anything—“ he starts, but I cut him off.

  “I’ve never done anything, other than kissing Gale, and even then, I didn’t do anything. I just stood there perplexed it was even happening.”

  “I— you’ve already mentioned. That.” He swallows while his eyes rove over my face. “I won’t do anything without your express permission.”

  “Have you?” I ask out of the blue. “Have you done this before?”

  His lips thin out for a second, I’m in the middle of telling him that never mind, he doesn’t have to tell me, when he nods. And now I’m both ashamed of myself for asking such a question right now, and vexed that he’s actually slept around when he’s supposedly been holding a torch for me all this time.

  I’m scowling, and I’m not thinking straight, but my mouth is running before I can stop myself, “How many? When?”

  Peeta blinks at me and arches an eyebrow. “You really want me to answer that?” He asks with an edge if amusement in his voice.

  “No! Of course not! Why would I want to know that?”

  “Well, for starters… you asked. But as long as you’re sure.”

  “I am sure! And I demand you stop thinking of them right this second. You’re a married man now!”

  He smirks at that, but has the good sense to turn away from me so I don’t have to see his smug face.

  I keep forgetting he’s got this speed thing about himself, because after a minute of silence, he’s suddenly right in my face, breathing heavily and ghosting his fingers on my cheeks.

  “I never pegged you for the jealous type.” He murmurs so close to me, all I’d need to do is lift on my tiptoes and our lips would be touching. “I think I like it.”

  “You never kissed your bride today. What kind of groom are you?”

  “That can be fixed, my lady. With your permission…”

  “Stop asking, and do it already!”

  “As you wish.”

  Then his lips are on mine, and his hand is cradling my neck, the other one lands on my waist, just as my own rest on his chest. The sensation is new and exciting, and soon I need air; I push him away from me just an inch, and breathe in mouthfuls until my lungs hurt.

  “How was that, my lady?” He doesn’t sound any better than I am, so I count it as a victory.

  “Good… for a start. Show me more, sir.”

  “Gladly!”

  This time when he dives in, he doesn’t hold back. He tilts my head to one side and the tip of his tongue caresses my lower lip until my mouth opens up to his, and then he’s plundering me hungrily. His arms hold me tightly against him. My chest is pressed to his, and I think to myself how nice it feels to be this close to him.

  “Katniss, you’re a vision in this,” he mumbles against my jaw, bunching up my nightgown in his hand. “But, can we take it off?”

  I moan softly, nodding my head unable to answer with words.

  “Thank you,” he grinds the words into my throat, just a his hand slides down my shoulder, taking with it the strap of the gown down my arm. His lips follow his hand, and then he’s licking the same spot he did as a wolf, only this time his tongue feels much smaller and softer.

  He repeats the action on the other shoulder, until the material falls down my body, to pool at my feet. There’s a vague notion on the back of my mind, telling me I should feel some kind of shame about all this. But my mind is turning to mush the longer Peeta kisses my skin, and then nothing else matters, until his hand finds my ribcage, and his thumb swipes the underside of my breast.

  I moan, and all my brain can comprehend is that I need his hands on my chest, now!

  “Touch me, Peeta.” I breathe out to the ceiling.

  His mouth is attached to my collarbone, and he sucks the spot when my own hand takes his and directs it to my breast. He palms me softly for a moment, tentatively kneading the mound under his warm palm, and then his lips are closing around my nipple.

  I gasp, and my hands go to his hair. Is the softest thing I’ve ever felt! I reminds me of soft fur, and somehow I know I’ll recognize this texture anywhere for the rest of my life. A thought makes its home into my mind: ‘my mate’.

  Peeta’s hands fall off my body, and I hear the rustling of fabrics, buttons being pulled from buttonholes, and boots being toe off feet. He’s wrestling himself out of his clothes, and all I can feel is thrilled.

  His mouth gets forced to let go of my nipple once he starts hopping on one foot trying to get his socks off. He makes quick work of it, though, and before I can react, he’s once again picking me up in his strong arms, and carrying me to the bed. He kisses my lips gently, and stands up to slip out of his undergarments. I’m already as naked as the day I was born, and his hungry eyes drink me in with fully dilated pupils, that cover his irises almost whole.

  “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve set eyes upon,” he grunts staring directly at the patch of hair between my legs. He licks his lips then, and that’s when self awareness hits me.

  I try to cover up with my hands, but he begs me to let him see. I can’t deny him even that, instead, my legs bend upwards, until my feet are planted on the mattress, and my thighs fall open, giving him unobstructed view of my most private place.

  “So beautiful,” he whispers, kneeling between my knees. He looks up at my face then, “My lady, may kiss your sex?”

  “Oh. Is that… allowed?” I ask leaning up on my elbows so I can see his face better.

  He smiles with puffy, reddened lips. “Oh yes. It’s allowed. Specially if you say it is.”

  “Then go ahead, sir. Show me.”

  He gives me a breathtaking smile before diving between my thighs. He proceeds to make out with my labia, the whole time his blown out pupils staring into my eyes.

  I’m making all kinds of noises I never knew I could produce, and finally, one of my arms can’t take it any longer, and my hand reaches out for his blond locks. My pelvis is grounding against his mouth purely on instinct, but I think he’s enjoying this as much as I am. His tongue stops licking and plunging in and out of my hidden crevice, just to find a spot at the cleft of thighs that causes me to arch off the mattress and cry out his name loudly.

  He’s like a puppy with a bone. His fingers replace his tongue in my opening, stretching me to the max, while sucking hard on the spot he’d just found until I’m thrashing uncontrollably on the bed. My legs twist around his upper body, until he has to force my thighs down with his forearms.

  A sensation unlike anything I’ve ever experienced rips through me. I scream and moan; I claw at his shoulders, and fist the sheets in one hand. I can barely keep my eyes open while convulsing under him, yet every time I manage to look at him, his eyes are trained on mine, on my face. I finally give one last gasp and fall to the mattress, spent and short of breath.

  Once I can breathe normally, Peeta climbs up from between my legs; his smile is big and self satisfied.

  “You look pleased with yourself.” I rasp out.

  This only makes his smile widened. “I am. I just made my wife glow, more radiant than the sun. Such a wild thing to behold, a mutt making a Mockingjay sing so loud and beautifully. Why the mutt can’t help but to love his song bird.”

  I bite my lower lip, and study his face.

  He’s so handsome, and his clean shaved mug is glistening with so much of my juices, I feel the urge to lick his chin clean.

  “Did you enjoy doing that, husband?” I ask him, feeling a thrill at the words.

  “Immensely! In fact, I can’t wait to do it again, because you, my beautiful wife, taste delicious. And the noises you make… well, there are other things I can’t wait to do even more.” He says wiping off his face on the bed linens.

  “Like what?” I ask turning on my side, and immediately regretting it, since the mess between my thighs has gone cold and drips beneath me.

  Peeta’s lips twitch, a deep blush covers his muscular, naked chest, which reminds me he’s nude, next to me, in bed, where I’m completely bare as well.

  I groan internally at my brain. The traitor picks the worst possible times to bring up embarrassing thoughts.

  But my curiosity wins, and my eyes dip lower down his body, to the big, painfully erect member, bowing to me every so often. The bulbous head of his penis it’s a screaming pink, and for reasons I can’t fathom, I have this urge to kiss it. Lick it even. Wrap my lips around it and, “Can I taste you now?” The words escape my mouth before I can think them through.

  “Another time, my pet. I don’t think I could keep myself from spilling my release down your throat, and I doubt knotting in your mouth would be safe for you anyway.”

  I know by the way his lips quiver at the corners, he’s trying to go for levity, but I’m not sure what he means, so I ask ignoring the feeling of inadequacy at my inexperience.

  “What does that mean, when you mention a knotting?”

  “Oh.” He scrunches up his face in thought. “I guess you wouldn’t know about that, even if you weren’t a virgin.” He says it nervously, trailing a finger up and down the valley of my breasts. “You see, once you let me put my… ‘member’, into you,” he gestures to his bobbing erection, “my body will act closer to a wolf, than a man.”

  “Oh. I thought you said—“

  He lifts a hand to stop me. “I did.” He confirms. “And I won’t have sex with you while in wolf form.” He says. “But I’m still a werewolf, Kitten. When I finally join with my true mate, my penis will swell a couple of sizes bigger, until our bodies are physically sealed together. It will take at least an hour before things go back to normal, unless I keep orgasming, and that part depends on how still you can stay while we’re knotted. I doubt I will be able to hold back once we start.”

  “You’re going to grow. Inside me. More? But, you’re already gigantic! Will you even fit inside me now?” I glare at him, “Mister, if you’re looking to deflower me tonight, those were the worst possible bits of information to share.”

  Peeta laughs loudly, and before I know it, he’s tipped my body onto my back and he’s crawling on top of me, devouring my mouth.

  “Katniss, I’m falling in love with your fiery personality,” he says nuzzling his nose against my ear. “I can hardly hold back, and you keep stoking my need for you. Please let me have you.” He begs into my neck.

  “Claim me then. I’m yours already.” I gasp out.

  “Thank you ma’am.” He says rubbing his length between my folds, coating his flesh with my arousal.

  But then he’s twisting our bodies around, so my back is flushed against his chest, and his arms can reach all over my nakedness.

  “I apologize, my lady, but wolves prefer this position when mating with their significant others. I’ve never done this with a pure woman, but I’ve heard the first time can be uncomfortable, Sweetheart. I’ll try my best to be gentle. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make it better for you.” He whispers in my ear, kissing the nape of my neck, caressing my breasts with one hand, and draping my knee over his thigh with the other.

  I feel so open and exposed. But his fingers pump in and out of me, getting me ready for himself, and I just tip my head back and give myself to sensation.

  “Thank you for giving me the honor of becoming your husband, Katniss. I swear to you, right here, right now, I’ll devote my life to loving you, take care of you, share in your sadness and your joys, and to be your friend and your lover until Mother Moon calls me back to her.”

  He takes hold of himself and pushes into me slowly. He groans and I gasp at his sheer size. It feels like he’s pushing all the air out of my lungs with every inch he climbs inside my body.

  “Fuck, Kitten.” He grunts into the skin under my ear. “You’re feel so much better than I could ever imagine. And fuck, have I imagined sinking into you like this, over and over since puberty.”

  The use of such profane language startles me at first, because wolves are known for always being so polite, but then I figure that curses are permissible during coitus, and the coarse language in Peeta’s mouth fit somehow.

  He groans and sucks on my flesh for a moment. My head is spinning with sensations, the pressure eases and to my delight the pain of being penetrated for the first time never registers, only an all consuming need that makes slicker between the legs.

  Peeta bites down on my earlobe, as he move within me, his words falling freely, punctuated by one of his powerful thrusts.

  “Your pussy is so tight, Kitten. You hug my cock just right. I knew you would. I knew I would never tire of your scent and your taste since the moment I first licked your skin as a wolf. You’re intoxicating, Sweetheart. I’ve been going mad with want ever since that day my wolf met you. Sometimes I feel like I’m a sick, perverted wolf, daydreaming of this, of you, wrapped around me, looking so damn beautiful.”

  Alright, Peeta whispering filth into my ear is even sexier than those crazy dreams I used to have. When his hands start rubbing that magical spot from before, I know he owns me.

  “Oh, Peeta, my husband. My mate. I’m yours!”

  It will only take a handful of swipes of his fingers on that knob, along the fullness I feel when pushes inside me to bring me back to orgasm. My arms flail behind my back, until my hands find purchase on his shoulders and hair. My head is pillowed on his thick arm, and I tilt it enough to capture his lips with mine.

  I can feel his movements become more erratic, less fluid. There’s a friction making the coil tighten in my belly again, faster than before, and his aptly named cock does feel like is swelling inside me. And all restraint breaks loose.

  “Can I mark you, Kitten? Can I make you my one true mate?” He gasps breathlessly into my ear.

  “I… how? I thought this was it.”

  “A bite. It takes a bite. Then you’ll be mine for life.”

  That doesn’t sound so bad, a bite for a lifetime of feeling this way. I nod my sweaty head eagerly, I figure I’m already his anyway. “Do it.”

  He breathes deeply, and I know he’s not completely human, although one glance at his body shows me a man, not a wolf.

  “Thank you, my lady. I swear you’ll be my whole life from this moment forward.”

  I gasp and shiver at the darkness of his voice, so much deeper and raspier than his normal tone. And then I feel a needle like object tracing my shoulder blade, until it prickles the base of my neck.

  “Katniss Everdeen, you belong to me, and I belong to you.”

  His sharp canines sink into my flesh, triggering a third climax, leaving me breathless and dizzy. My legs tremble but Peeta keeps me wide open pumping into me erratically. His fingers keep a frantic pace on my clitoris.

  “No more,” I beg, trying to move Peeta’s hand away from my center.

  “One more. Please, Kitten. Give me one more, and then you can rest.” He almost sobs into my hair. “I’m begging you, sweetie. Just one more. I’ll leave be after.”

I give in. I look into his eyes with my head tipped back as far as it can go. He kisses my lips sweetly, and starts nudging his hips against mine with what feels like great effort, while his pointer and middle fingers glide over the kernel of sensations, and coaxes one more orgasm out of me.

  We are both crying out our ecstasy into each other’s mouths. His free hand is cradling my face gently, which is surprising, since every other body muscle is tightly tense. The spot where his teeth bit me feels warm and tender, I vaguely think of tetanus for some reason, but my brain gives the thought up quickly.

  “You’re wonderful, Sweetheart.” He mumbles into my mouth. “I love you.”

  I try to respond, but I feel like a puddle of goo, all I can do I accept his kisses and try to breathe as normally as I can.

  After a while, Peeta brushes away the hair off my face. “Are you asleep?” He asks quietly.

  “Mmmm.” I answer, not moving a muscle. I can’t, I’m impale with the biggest, fattest rod possible and I’m afraid that if I move I’ll start convulsing again.

  “Kitten? After you rest, would you do me a last honor?” He sounds hopeful, and he’s scratching my scalp, which feels really nice.

  “Mmm?”

  “Will you toast with me?” He asks.

  The question washes away my fatigue… partly. I crack open an eye, and see his face hovering over mine.

  “Is just that I heard how toasting are important for your people, and I wanted to observe your traditions and culture too, so I baked a especial loaf yesterday just for you and—“

  His eyes are so blue and guileless, I have to kiss his mouth to stop his little rant.

  “I love you too, Peeta.” I mumble against his lips. “Of course I’ll toast with you.”

  I can’t keep my eyes open for the life of me after that, but it’s alright, I can’t go anywhere while we’re knotted, and honestly, I’m exactly where I want to be.

  ————

  “The Mockingjay is a spirit warrior who leads rebellions with her song against tyrannical oppressors. Her voice speaks true, and her heart is valiant—“

  “I think you missed your calling, sir. I think your true vocation is that of a bard, or a troubadour even.” I interrupt Peeta’s winded monologue to my distended stomach, while carding my fingers through his hair lazily.

  He puts his big, warm hands on my belly and kisses my belly button. “Don’t listen to mommy. She has no idea what she’s talking about. Why if I was a bard, instead of a baker, I wouldn’t be able to stuff her pretty mouth with cheese buns.”

  I purse my lips thinking about it. “Mmm. You’re right. I am very fond of cheese buns, and bards don’t usually make any money between recitals.” I run my fingers through his soft, blonde curls, and the baby kicks happily in my stomach.

  “I see you’re both in cahoots!” Peeta exclaims planting another kiss on my belly.

  I laugh caressing the spot he just kissed, stretching my legs on the bed. “Less talking, more baking!” I call loudly when he gets up and walks away.

  It’s been a year since we married, and things have changed to the better. Our people entered a new era of peace and mutual friendship. Gale even found a wife from the Pack, a sweet, soft spoken girl by the name of Madge. She, like my mother was born without the wolf gene, preventing her from transforming, but Madge’s quiet demeanor has softened Gale greatly.

  Alma, we found out was Alpha Snow’s secret lover, and never got over the heartbreak of his overthrowing and subsequent execution, despite the horrible way he’d always treated her as a mate. They never produced offsprings, because Alma was barren. She felt so much resentment towards my father and the Mellarks, she was able to influence Gale into believing the Pack was out to get us, and my father was a soft ruler that couldn’t take action when needed. When Gale turned his back on her, she finally snapped and let the currents of the river take her under.

  Things between me and Peeta were trial and error the first few weeks. Some days Peeta would be so overcome with guilt and grief over Glimmer and how fast he ‘forgot’ about her, that he could hardly look at me. Then other days, I’d be so homesick I burrowed down into the covers of our bed, and wouldn’t come out until he forced me out to eat, bathe and see my family.

  On our hardest days, we tried to be strong for the other and little by little, we learned to trust and find solace in one another.

  We became best friends too, which is a blessing on its own. And then we found out I was pregnant with our first child.

  The Alpha has been hinting that after the baby is born, he will step down and leave Peeta as his heir to rule over the pack. He claims to be getting to old. Finnick and his wife, Annie, will still serve as Betas for us, since they are strong and very well liked.

  My father has decided that Gale needs more time to mature before taking the chiefdom, and for once, Gale agrees.

  Prim has grown into a beautiful young lady, and there’s a wolf whose eyes follow her very move, until my mother frowns at him, I hope she doesn’t intervene and cause another bout of conflicts, but only time will tell. For now, I’m waiting in bed for my cheese buns, trying to not let on that I’m having contractions.

[ellanainthetardis]

A much needed - and calmer - talk today! Let me know your thoughts!

[ff] or [ao3]

Chapter 55 :  No Good Choices

The door to the Training Center’s roof was already open and Haymitch groaned a little, not keen on sharing the place. He fumbled with the lighter, the cigarette already wedged between his lips… What he wanted was some peace and quiet, to escape Effie’s shrill voice as she babbled into the phone to arrange whatever it was he was supposed to be doing next.

According to the colored-code schedule she had passed around that morning on the train, the afternoon was supposed to be free. There would be a party in the evening, obviously, but for now his time was blissfully his and he wanted some fucking space.

Leaving the Districts behind was a relief. Two and One hadn’t been as bad as he had feared but he would never understand the people who lived there, the glorification of victors, the academies to train possible tributes… He had been very welcomed there. The victor who had won twice…

He pushed the door open and emerged in the soft cold. Winter was mild in the Capitol and he hadn’t bothered bringing up his coat. The sweatpants and the long-sleeve shirt were a bit too thin but he ignored it. He could deal.

It was sickening how happy he was to be back in the city. He wondered if it was a Stockholm syndrome thing, if he had been conditioned without his knowing… Or maybe it was simply that nothing in there made him feel like he had been tossed into a larger version of his arena. He would have to face the Presidential Mansion again but…

Problem for another day.

He walked close to the edge and studied the city spread at his feet, letting his eyes roam on the colorful beads of lights spread everywhere around them… ‘What is your favorite thing in the city?” Caesar had asked him earlier, after he had been done greeting his fans at the station, smiling, waving, signing and taking pictures… Haymitch had shrugged and smirked ‘My girl’. He and Effie had kissed, he had deepened it, she had pretended to be embarrassed and had rebuked him, they had bickered, everyone had been happy with the footage. The Welcome To The Capitol interview hadn’t been the most difficult thing he had faced during that Tour anyway.

The cigarette still unlit, he turned around to survey his surroundings and found what he was looking for on the other side of the roof. There were small movements in the garden and he eventually spotted the boy sitting between two potted trees. Haymitch hardly ever went into the garden. He knew it had been the kids’ corner but he preferred the bare part of the roof, with its concrete low wall. It was there that he and Effie usually discussed difficult things, safe from bugs but not bothering to pretend this was anything but what it was. The garden would have made it feel too much like a stroll.

He hesitated for a long moment before finally walking over.

Peeta must have seen him as soon as he had arrived but he hadn’t made any sign that he was there so Haymitch was probably not welcomed. But… The passive aggressive dance they had going on couldn’t go on. Not only was it painful to have the boy glaring at him behind his back, it would only get more difficult as the years went by. Twelve only had two victors now and two victors meant they would have to work together at some point, there was no point making it harder than it ought to be. He knew the kid didn’t understand his behavior. He knew he was hurting him. He knew he had made a poor job of explaining himself.

He also knew nothing could be like it used to be with Peeta.

He knew himself and he knew his limits.

He had meant what he had told the kid. He looked at Peeta and all he saw was Katniss.

He lowered himself on the ground facing the boy, right in front of a patch of jasmine. The smell was strong and maybe it was another reason he didn’t like the garden. It reminded him too much of his arena. His first one.

Peeta’s eyes tracked his every move but the kid didn’t say anything.

Haymitch plucked the cigarette from his lips and turned it over between his fingers, not quite sure how to start.

“Give it a few years and maybe you’re gonna get it.” he said slowly, keeping his gaze firmly on his hands. “I’ve been at this for twenty-five years. It’s… a lot of dead kids. It gets you… numb after a while. It ain’t that you stop caring but you just…” He licked his lips. “You learn to recognize who’s got a chance and who doesn’t, so that helps… That helps prepare you, yeah? You know they’re already dead. They just don’t know it yet.”

He chanced a glance up at Peeta. The boy was staring at him, listening. It was already something he supposed.

“Thing is… Before you… Twenty-three years… I only got maybe… two who had a real shot.” he continued with a shrug. “Kids from Twelve… Don’t need to tell you they’re at a disadvantage, yeah?” Peeta gave him a brief nod so Haymitch went on, torturing the cigarette between his fingers so badly it would be too battered to be smocked. Waste. Then again, it was the thing in the city. Waste was expected, they could always buy more. “Last year… Can’t describe how I felt when I realized I got not only one but two kids who had what it took to get to the finish line.”

“You chose Katniss.” the boy said, breaking his silence for the first time. It wasn’t entirely an accusation. It was the kid who had spilled his feelings for her and had asked him to do whatever he could to bring her back after all. Sure, Haymitch had already made up his mind at that point because as charismatic and charming as Peeta could be, Katniss had the guts and, ultimately, it was having the guts that kept you alive.

“’Cause she had what it took.” he muttered. “And you’re… You’re soft, boy.” He raised a dismissive hand before the kid could protest. “Ain’t an insult. You’re a good person. It’s a rare thing nowadays.”

Peeta sighed. “You’re not a bad man, Haymitch.”

That was debatable and not the object of the conversation.

“Thing is… The star-crossed lovers thing… I convinced Seneca it would be a great twist but I knew they would never go for two victors.” he admitted. “Not after what Katniss had done with Rue anyway. That was…”

“I saw the footage.” Peeta cut in.

“You saw part of it.” he corrected. They hadn’t showed the whole thing at the Recap during the Crowning and they had been careful to never air it again. Katniss might have told him but he hadn’t seen. “It was powerful, boy. And dangerous. Chaff only made it worse when he sent her a loaf of bread…” He shook his head. “Changed all the rules.”

“It was brave.” the boy snapped.

“Yeah, it was.” he chuckled bitterly, rubbing his forehead. “Brave and stupid and fucking inspiring. That was the point, yeah? Can’t tell you how much me and Effie were already sweating by that point… Then, the berries…” He closed his eyes and then shook his head. “The berries were the nails in our fucking coffins. But you were both alive and all the Districts were grumbling and… When Cinna told me about the rebellion, when he brought me in…” He swallowed hard at that memory. “I really thought we had a shot. With Thirteen not being as dead as I had thought… There’s always been rumors floating around but I didn’t believe it. Not until Cinna showed me and I thought…” He sighed. “They were gonna use the girl either way. She was supposed to be their Mockingjay but I only trusted them as far as I could throw them. Didn’t want her to become their martyr. And Snow… Snow was breathing down our fucking necks.”

“No good choices.” Peeta said slowly.

“No good choices.” he confirmed. “I threw our lot where I thought I could keep you both alive. Freeing Panem from the Capitol… Well, ain’t gonna lie, it would have been a nice bonus. Everything I’ve always wanted. Revenge and everything. But… I chose the rebellion ‘cause I really thought it was the only way to protect the two of you.”

“You could have told us.” the boy insisted. “You’re always keeping things from me.”

“If I had told the girl…” He made a face. It would have been a disaster. “She was already figuring some out anyway. The less she knew, the safer she was. Same for you. Same for Effie.” He shrugged. “I tried, kid.”

“And then?” Peeta asked.

“And then everything fell on our heads ‘cause Thirteen bailed out and I was glad I had kept you out of the loop.” he confessed. “Thought you would be safe. Both of you. Really did. Should have known better.” He accidentally dropped the cigarette but made no move to pick it up. It left him with empty hands though. “I wanted to save both of you, Peeta. I’m… I’m sorry I failed. I still think… Me going in was the best solution. At least I got you out. It probably ain’t much of a comfort to you but at least I got one of you out.”

Peeta studied him for a long time and then averted his eyes. “But you can’t look at me anymore.”

“Give me time.” he requested quietly. “I know it ain’t fair. I know you’re angry. But… I loved that girl.”

Saying that out loud was like tearing his chest open and clawing his heart out. He took a deep steadying breath but it smelt too much like jasmine, it smelt too much like being trapped.

He fumbled in his pocket with shaking hands, came up with an empty packet of cigarettes and crumpled it angrily.

“I know.” Peeta said at last. “I loved her too.” There was so much pain in his voice that Haymitch started compulsively tearing the packet apart in small little pieces. If the boy noticed his littering, it didn’t seem to bother him. “I’m sorry about what I said the other time. And I’m sorry I was a jerk.”

“I was a jerk too.” Haymitch admitted. “Just… It gets too much.”

“I understand.” the boy offered. “Going back for a second time… What you had to do in there… I understand. You’re probably doing well considering.”

“Yeah.” he snorted bitterly. “Considering.”

If you didn’t count regularly trying to boil himself to death in the shower.

“I’m impressed you didn’t start drinking again.” Peeta commented.

“Nothing to be impressed about.” he grumbled. “Want to. Every day I think I’m gonna cave.” He averted his gaze and stared at the oddly shaped potted tree on the left. “Can’t afford it. Can’t slip. Effie… You… Can’t risk my family again.”

Peeta seemed to perk up a little at being called family and that was good because that had been the aim. Unfortunately, it also made the boy frown. “Why again?”

His mind flashed to the Everdeen’s living-room, to the fresh burning gashes on his back, to brushing the subject with Katniss when he had tried to convince her that…

“Remember my Games?” he asked, forcing his voice to sound even and failing miserably.

Understanding dawned on Peeta’s face. “The force field.”

“The force field, holding Maysilee’s hand while she died, that I went looking for a way out of the arena in the first place…” he shrugged. “I was stupid and naïve. Lost everyone I cared about.”

“I’m sorry.” Peeta said and Haymitch shrugged. It wasn’t the boy’s fault. The kid hesitated and then it was his turn to look away. “When I got back to Twelve… Everything was different. Thread had expulsed Katniss’ family from the Village, they were staying with the Hawthornes. Mrs Everdeen…” He shook his head. “If Prim didn’t force her to feed, I’m not sure she would remember. She’s… She’s not here anymore. Her eyes are always empty.”

“She’s been through a lot.” he remarked.

“Yes, maybe, but…” the boy sighed. “Prim is a good kid but she’s thirteen and she shouldn’t have to take care of her mom like that. If I hadn’t taken them in… I don’t know how they would have fed themselves. Prim was planning on trying to sneak to the woods, to do what Katniss used to and that would only have ended in disaster. Twelve’s really not a nice place to be right now. Thread… Well, to be honest, he’s fair. He applies the law to the letter but the law’s harsh and people are starving.” Peeta shrugged. “I didn’t want to deal with all that. I kept thinking if you’d been there…”

“If I had been there, I’d have been drunk and useless. Would have gotten myself flayed on the whipping post for illegal moonshine.” he pointed out. “Ain’t good at taking care of people, kid. You’re better at mending things than I am.”

Peeta shrugged again, clearly not convinced. “Can you try calling now and then? I’m not saying I need you to call every two days like Effie does but… Maybe just once a month or something… Just check in. Prim would like that. She misses you.”

“Yeah.” he promised slowly. “Can do that.”

He would tell Effie and made sure she would force him to follow suit.

He could repair things.

“Good.” the boy nodded.

“Can’t ever be your mentor again.” he muttered awkwardly. “You get that, yeah?” It could never be like before, not with his guilt his treacherous memories, but it could be… better than this hostile relationship full of things unsaid – well, he supposed most of those things had been said now. “It’s just… That’s too much.”

“But we can be friends.” Peeta stated firmly, with the calm of a man who had been forced to grow up too quickly.

“Friends.” he repeated. “Yeah. I can do friends.”

They didn’t have to be best friends, they could be friends who sometimes exchanged phone calls and who saw each other once a year – twice maybe – to watch kids get murdered. Nothing he hadn’t done before with younger victors.

That was manageable.

[alliswell21]

and if you may ... 49 too .. “Im too sober for this” .. Please ? Thank you ::!!

😊 another awesome prompt: 49. “I’m too sober for this”

Warning: mentions of underage drinking

Sorry this came out so freakishly long. Enjoy.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

As Senior resolutions went, mine was daring, brave, empowering and completely futile.

Since my best and only friends Gale and Madge graduated the previous year and left to pursue their own paths, I saw a chance to reinvent myself. It was gonna be the greatest thing since sliced bread!

I was gonna let lose, let my hair down (literally! Who wears braids to school everyday in their senior year anyway?!?). I was gonna brake some rules and be known as: Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire!.

I had it all planned out.

I was going to shed my quiet, goody-two-shoes, hermit persona behind and become this easy going chick all the cool cats wanted to hang out with, and to my credit, I succeeded pretty much on everything I’d set out to do except the single most important thing of all...

But I’m nothing, if not persistent, hence my current situation, holding a flashlight, illuminating a doorknob, as a group of classmates try to break an entering in the school building after hours.

Real smart stuff for Katniss Everdeen, formerly sensible person.

”Come on man! What’s taking so freaking long?” Asked Marvel Quaid impatiently.

”Almost,” Says Annie Cresta still tweaking her bobby pin into the lock to Dr. Abernathy’s office.

Finnick Odair, Annie’s boyfriend and the father of this half baked idea of a prank, slaps Marvel’s shoulder with the back of his hand, telling him cockily, “Hush dude. You’re throwing my girl’s mojo. Besides, hasn’t your mother told you that patience is a virtue?”

”Ugh... just hurry it, will ya? I’m with twitchy here. Being at Abernathy’s office during the day is bad enough,”

”Johanna, when have I ever fail you?” Asks Finnick at his best friend with a pointed look, then he grins mischievously, “Plus, once we’re inside, will celebrate by raiding old man Haymitch’s liquor stash!” He wiggles his eyebrows at that.

”Wait... what? Nobody said anything about drinking the stuff! I thought we were just switching it with water. This is crazy Finn!”

”Shush it Peeta! Not a good time to act like a chicken shit!” Johanna whispers harshly. “I knew you were gonna wimp out half way!”

Peeta puffs out his already prominent chest, and frowns angrily a Johanna, “I’m not wimping out of nothing!” His intense blue eyes fix on mine for a second, but as usual, the moment I look back at him, they fleet away, returning to Johanna next to Finnick. “I’m just saying, that with every passing second, it’s more obvious this prank wasn’t thought through. That’s all. Plus, we already drank Annie’s dad’s liquor cabinet, I’m pretty sure stealing the principal’s cheap vodka and drinking it in his office is like... a felony or something.”

I’ve been watching Peeta pretty much my whole high school career. It’s not that I just noticed him, it’s just that I just became aware of how much I noticed him when he was around. With Gale’s towering frame out of the way, distracting me, I finally realized I’ve kept track of this blue eyed blonde, ever since I was a tween, and he fed me his own bread the day my father died. His one act of kindness set him apart from everyone else, and Ive finally come to terms with it. But for all my observations of the boy with the bread, I can say he does look a little green right now, but a coward he totally is not!

I let a long breath out, scratching my nose with my free hand. ”I’m too sober for this,” I didn’t actually mean to say it out loud, but it’s true, and it’s out.

”Wait until we’re drinking Abernathy’s poison, baby, that’ll take care of it right away!” Says our resident meathead, and designated muscle, Cato Alexander. His voice is so greasy, and obnoxious I scowl at him in disgust, but Peeta surges up from his hiding spot, to crouch in front of me, facing Cato. I think he’s trying to shield me from his leering eyes.

”Yeah, well, I still think we should stick to the original plan of just dumping it all out and switching it with water, and get the hell out of here ASAP.” Peeta grunts, more than says.

”Abernathy keeps his ‘secret’ stash under lock and key, though.” I offer. “Wiress told me he’s even putting some alarm system in place, because he has the bottle in the same place he keeps the final exams.”

Johanna rolls her eyes, blowing a bubble with her gum, and finally runs a hand through her spiky short hair. “Come on Brainless, that was just Nuts, being her nutty self. There aren’t any alarms here. Old man Haymitch is an angry drunkard, not a paranoid one.” Her gum pops and she chews on happily.

”Done!” Crows Annie triumphantly.

”I knew you could do it, Hon!” Says Finnick sporting that lovesick face he always has when speaking to Annie. He kisses her in the lips, and Johanna makes pukey faces at them while the rest of us try to look away uncomfortable.

”Dude, get a room!” Says Marvel.

We all slip into the open door on tip-toes, and come to Dr. Abernathy’s desk. There, where drawers used to be at one time, it’s a safe, with a digital keypad.

”Great!” Whines Marvel, “Deciphering this code is gonna be harder than guessing what’s in Mrs. Sae’s mystery meat stew!” He says throwing his arms in the air.

”I knew this was a bad idea. We suggest we just get out of here right away.” Says Peeta sweating profusely.

I can see Johanna’s mouth open to tell Peeta off, but whatever nasty comment she was gonna make we never found out, because all hell broke lose in the blink of an eye.

It turns out the old drunk was a bit paranoid after all, and Wiress Martin’s tip about the alarms was good. We tripped the silent system as soon as we picked the lock. It took the police all of five minutes to flood the school.

They caught Johanna first, then Marvel. Finnick was in top notch physical condition, and too fast for the cops, but Annie tripped and fell and when he came back to help her up, they too got apprehended. Cato ran off like a headless chicken screaming “Abort! Abort!” at the top of his lungs, until he fell silent. I’m not sure what happened to him. As for myself... I was standing there in the middle of the room, frozen. Then like in slow motion, Peeta started yelling at me.

”Run! Katniss, run! What are you doing? Run!”

When I don’t move, he pushes me out the door, when that doesn’t work, he grabs my hand and drags me with him, but although I’m great at track and runs, I’m not match for the rush of adrenaline he seems to be having, so he finally turns around, throws me over his shoulder like I’m a sack of flour, and off we go out of the building.

I’ve gather my wits enough to know we are out of their reach, but also that we have to come back and give ourselves up before someone rats us out. And someone will. I don’t trust Marvel or Cato.

”Peeta,” I call. “Peeta, we’re safe now. You can put me down!”

It takes me punching his back several times to get his attention, but he stops, and puts me on the ground gently. Then, out of the blue, his lips crash against mine in a passionate, all consuming kiss, I’ll be hard pressed to ever recreate with anyone else.

”You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he mumbles over and over between kisses, all the while his hands cup my face, then smooth down my arms, around my back, cradle my head.

We break apart heaving for air, our foreheads resting against each other.

” I’m sorry for overstepping.” He finally breathes out, “but that was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me, and I live with Winnifred Mellark.” He chuckles raggedly. It’s no secret his mother is a piece of work witch that used to hit her children until they grew too big and wide to intimidate anymore. “If at some point, you feel the urge to slap me in the face, I’ll take. Gladly. I deserve it.” He chuckles again, “It was worth it.”

”What was worth it?” I ask dizzy.

”Finally plucking up the courage to kiss you.” He pulls away from me, for once in his life, his eyes aren’t avoiding mine. As he stares at me, hungrily, he adds, “I figured we have to go back and face Principal Abernathy sooner or later, which means my mother is gonna find out about this debacle, and she’s probably gonna try to kill me. I figured, if I’m gonna die, I rather die knowing what it felt like to have finally let you know how much of a goner am I for you.”

”Oh,” it’s all I can say.

He’s starting to get anxious at my lack of response, he’s blabbering some nonsense about having a shot at being friends and whatnot, but his frantic backpedaling won’t do, so I do the only thing I can think of, and grab his biceps for balance and surge up to shut him up with another kiss.

”We’ll go back there together,” I tell him against his lips.

He nods, not letting go of me, “Together.”

We will go into this as one.

[allonsysilvertongue]

Wiping History

“What will happen when we get to your arena?” she demanded. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.“ 75 arenas and one colossal task for Effie Trinket. Hayffie. Post-MJ. Previously

4. The Old Colleague

For the second time that day, Effie checked her watch as she hurried down the third floor corridor of the Parliament that Plutarch had so graciously given to her for the duration of the project.

Inwardly, she cursed Enobaria for being the reason she was running late.

The phone call Effie had placed to the victor of District Two had been disastrous from start to finish.  For starters, Enobaria had not been pleased at all that Effie had her contact details much less knowledge that she had moved to District Five.  Of course, Effie had tried to explain that any information pertaining to her whereabouts she received from Plutarch which in itself was a mistake because the woman blew her top, going off about being tagged even after President Snow had fallen. Truthfully, Effie did not think there was any surveillance on any living victors except that the Government kept information on where they were currently residing.

Effie was not easily intimidated not even by a woman with fangs but she did grow tired of being on the receiving end of her tirade. When Enobaria finally slammed the phone down after Effie managed to get a word in regarding the arena, Effie let out a breath in relief. She took Enobaria’s ‘do not ever call me again or I’ll rip your throat out’ to simply mean ‘no’.

Some people just wanted to live in peace without being dragged down memory lane and she could certainly respect that.

Effie pushed open the door to the meeting room and hurried in, quickly noting that nearly everyone was present, including Barron Holland, the leader of their demolition team. She nodded at each of them in turn, apologising for being late.

“I was not expecting you here, Plutarch,” Effie remarked.

“Oh, just the off-chance that I was around the area and as it is I also have some excellent news to share,” Plutarch smiled. “Haymitch Abernathy will be joining the team. I have since officially appoint him as representative of the victors as a whole.”

If Effie was the kind to groan outwardly in displeasure, she might have done so. The only indication that she was in any way affected by the news was by the slight clench of her jaws.

“From my visit to Twelve a few days ago, I had the notion that he might be,” Effie said when Cressida turned to look at her questioningly. “He said something to the effect of wanting to see the destruction of the arena through.”

“Perhaps he does not trust us to do the job,” Plutarch chuckled. “But be that as it may, it will make for a good publicity.”

“No,” Effie disagreed firmly on that. “This will be difficult on the victors as it is. We do not need to make a spectacle out of it. Cressida and Pollux will film what is necessary for their post-war documentary with the interest of preserving this as part of our country’s history – that is all and nothing more.”

A murmur of assent rippled through the room, and Barron who came from a district seconded her decision for which she was grateful.

“It is too short a notice for Haymitch to attend this meeting but I trust that you will keep him updated?” Plutarch said in a clipped tone.

“Yes, certainly,” Effie nodded. “Plutarch, I need your word that there will be no camera crews except for Cressida and Pollux when each of these victors arrives in the city. If the public noticed that they are here so be it, this project would hit the papers soon enough, but I will not have them hounded by the press. I gave them my word and now I need yours.”

Plutarch, she noticed, looked as if he had swallowed something sour. It was not every day that he was talked to in this manner by anyone, much less her but those victors are hers and she would protect them while they were here to the best of her ability.

“Of course,” Plutarch bowed before excusing himself from the meeting.

“That went better than expected,” Cressida commented.

“Yes, I am glad he did not argue on it. He controls the media and if I do not draw the lines….”

They spent the next half an hour going through the procedures with Effie giving Cressida full creative control on her plan for the documentary.  From Cressida’s history with the victors, Effie trust that she would have their best interests at heart and thus gave her permission to interview the victors as long as they consented to it.

“The hovercraft should leave for the first arena as scheduled,” their pilot updated. “We’re planning for two arenas per day. If any of the arenas are situated close to each other, the plan is to do more – at which point, I will advise you accordingly.”

Effie nodded.

“We’re on track,” Barron chimed in. “My team is ready, and the explosives are stocked.”

“Haymitch should arrive before then,” said Cressida.

“He will,” Effie assured.

That was another thing she needed to arrange. He would need some place to stay and she certainly was not going to offer the extra room in her apartment to him.

XxX

Haymitch arrived one day before the day the first arena was scheduled to be destroyed. He hopped off the train with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his hair messy from the wind and his clothes a little rumpled from the journey, and just like that, at the sight of him, her heart skipped a beat.

She hated how traitorous her heart was.

“Sweetheart,” he greeted, his smile was cocky and smug as if he won something just by being here.

Still, she was not an idiot. On any other circumstances, Haymitch Abernathy would not have been happy to have to set foot back here in the city but since he was here on some personal challenge that he had set for himself, and because he knew she really did not want him here, she figured it was the exception.

“Haymitch,” she said cordially. “I never thought I’d say this but welcome back.”

He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“I’ll be gone as soon as it’s done," he said and then looked her way. "And you'll be coming home with me this time 'round."

He was so certain, so confident but Effie said nothing to that.

She spent the entire car ride staring out of the window wondering just how he was acting as if the argument they had on the day he brought Katniss home didn’t happen. That scene was still fresh in her mind even after all these months, and she could remember how hurt she felt when she found out he was leaving her again or worse, the betrayal that twisted in her heart when she learnt of his vote.

The feelings had dulled with time and she had months to think it through. Haymitch had never done anything without a reason, she understood that. Still, he could at least have told it herself instead of her finding out from Johanna.

You forgave Johanna, a voice whispered. She voted yes.

Except of course, Johanna didn’t leave her behind twice and because of their history, she somehow held Haymitch up to a certain degree that she did not impose on Johanna.  With Haymitch, it was the cumulative events and she had been exhausted, hurting and angry.

“You excited?”

“What about?” Effie turned her gaze to him.

“Working together again – you and I.”

“Could it be that the position has reversed?” she asked, referring to years before when she had been eager to work together with him.

He narrowed his eyes and she went back to staring out of the window until they reached their destination.

"What's Clemens getting outta this?"

"I am not privy to the details," she answered truthfully, "but he has run out of favours and I'm certain he knows it will be in his best interest to cooperate. Now," she turned to him just outside of the door of the place he would be staying for the coming weeks or months, "are you completely sure that you want to do this?"

She was still trying her luck to dissuade him but he had always been as stubborn as her.

"Yeah."

With that, Effie turned the key and pushed the door open. She had managed to rent the place on a short notice and billed the expenses to the project's finances. Considering that she did not have much time to look around, she was still proud of this place. It came completely furnished, granted the furniture were a little mismatched from her taste but one cannot really be choosy right after the war. There was one bedroom and an adjoining kitchen. The living room had a two-seater sofa, coffee table and small television.

He let his bag fall to the floor with a thud and surveyed the place.

“You'll be staying here until the end of this project. The faucet in the bathroom sink is not working unfortunately, a burst pipe or something," she waved her hand and she had used that little fact to ask for a reduced rent. She could be very adamant when she wanted to. "Other than that, everything works as it should be. I trust it is to your liking?”

“I'll stock up a couple bottle of booze and everything will be right as rain,” he shrugged.  “You'll tell me where I can get the alcohol, yeah? This place's changed."

She produced a map of the neighbourhood and he smirked.

"Always prepared," he chuckled, taking the proffered map from her. "Where are you staying?”

Effie held her tongue and then duly released the information to him. Sooner or later, he would find out.

"There," her finger tapped an area on the map, "about ten minutes' walk from here."

"So that it'll be easier for you to come over and haul my ass out of bed in case I'm late?" He teased.

That had certainly been one of the points she considered when choosing this place but she merely smiled at him.

“You want me to walk you back?” he asked, startling her.

“I will be fine. Thank you for the offer.”

Haymitch sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Don't do this, Effie. Don't talk to me like... I'm a stranger."

She looked away and that was when she saw the glint of gold under the sleeve of his shirt. It was the bangle she had given him during the third quarter quell and he was still wearing it after all this time, even when he had no reason to.

"See you tomorrow, Haymitch. Nine am. Do not be late."

With that, Effie closed the door behind her and let out a trembling breath.

Haymitch isn't the only one who can be protective. Effie can be protective over her victors just as well. Now that they're both here in the same place, tell me what you think!

[madeofpurestarlight]

If This Was A Movie, V

// While Effie Trinket is Hollywood’s darling and all her dreams seem to be finally coming true, Haymitch Abernathy is drinking himself into an early grave and shuts the world out completely. However, Plutarch Heavensbee decides it’s time for his comeback. The two main stars can’t stand each other and tension builds up soon, but as they dive in deep into this project, somewhere between shooting love scenes, fighting on-set, fighting off-set, opening up hesitantly and helping their younger colleagues deal with everything this world brings, they grow closer and closer, until one day they realize they’re not pretending anymore. | Hayffie Actors AU //

“A HELPING HAND”

i.

NOW

 The camera flashes were blinding. The rush was overwhelming. The reflectors were too bright and the place was too crowded. It was all extremes and there was no time to take a break from them when she stopped before the entrance to the red carpet area and took a deep breath as if she was the nineteen-year-old girl attending her first premiere again.

She was in the movie for exactly three minutes and forty-seven seconds back then and everybody looked at it like it was the greatest achievement Effie could get in her life, but it wasn’t enough for her. It wasn’t what she knew she could reach, and it definitely wasn’t all she would get. She was too determined than to settle with supporting roles and living her life out on Broadway. She wanted the world to lie at her feet. She wanted men to lust after her and she wanted women to strive to be her. She wanted the cameras, she wanted the leading roles, she wanted this shiny red Dior gown and those skyscraper Dior heels and her name on the list of nominees.

She had it, all of it, and she still didn’t feel any pride or happiness or even satisfaction, because the only person she wanted to share this with wasn’t here.

“Are you even coming to the party later?” Johanna asked and sleeked her electric blue long-sleeved velvet dress that was tight in all the right places and made the usually street-style oriented young woman look like a goddess with its long veil and diamond-decorated choker made of the same material. She measured Effie with her wide, cynical chocolate eyes and sighed, finally cracking some mercy upon her. “Have you been like this the entire time?”

“It’s just harder for me now,” Effie old her quietly. She was very well-aware of what she looked like. She looked defeated, and there was no point in hiding it in front of Johanna. The disappointment was too big to hide. “I just hoped…”

“Hope,” Johanna spat and took Effie by her arm, not exactly gently, and walked her a few steps away to make space for the other celebrities to enter the carpet. “Trinket, you’re one hell of a drama queen. He’s not here – so what?” She frowned, put her hands on her hips and jerked her head towards Katniss and Peeta who were waiting a few yards away, laughing at something on Peeta’s phone, and towards Finnick, Annie and Mags who were in a lively conversation with Plutarch. “We are here,” she hissed, “so light the fuck up. Don’t spoil it for us – besides, you deserve to enjoy this. You did your job well even without him, so you can carry on with that now.”

Effie stared at Johanna in genuine and rightful shock. “Johanna-“

“If he came, I’d gladly stick something up his coward ass, anyway, so it’s maybe better that he’s not here.” Johanna took Effie by her wrist and squeezed it tightly with a mischievous smirk. “C’mon. Let’s show him what he’s missing.”

“Johanna,” Effie cracked a genuine laughter, “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, just stop keeping me,” the younger woman tugged at her wrist, “they’re waiting for us.”

ii.

 BEFORE

 April, Venice

 Effie let the hot water drips trail down her soaked hair, naked spine, pearly-white arms, long lean legs and pool by her pink-painted toenails. She saw her reflection in the shower’s glass door, her mascara was running and so was her nose, because despite her best attempts, she still didn’t get rid of the rigor that had taken over her when she got out of the freezing, filthy water.

God, she was so angry. It was just genuine, hot anger, directed at no one else but Haymitch Abernathy who, if she had the opportunity, she’d gladly repeatedly hit with something into his head. There was no one she had ever felt so much whole-hearted disgust for.

He had tried. After she had ran away from the trailer, following her fit of rage, he went after her. He had tracked her down to the costume trailer where she had chosen to hide, and tried to talk to her. However, in her eyes, he was the originator of everything that could possibly go wrong, and it had only ended up in a heated fight that went on for whole long minutes and had apparently amused the hell out of everyone in earshot. He told her she was an arrogant bitch, she told him that he was just a drunken good-for-nothing and they have mutually sent each other to go screw themselves. He was the one who walked out on her this time, and she didn’t even attempt to stop him.

Why should she? He missed up big time. She had spent thirty minutes under the shower and she still felt dirty and chilled to the bone. He had ruined the entire shooting day – one day that was going to cost everyone time and money, not that there was already exactly an excess of either. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad if she knew that he was sober. But no – he had to come there with that arrogant expression on his face and a cup of some Virginia-style Irish coffee and blasted about having it all together. Sure thing.

The filming was a disaster so far.

She violently turned off the water, already sick of the tangerine-scented shower gel she had been covering her whole body in for the last half an hour, reached for her puffy white towel with her monogram that she had brought from home, wrapped herself in it and walked out of the bathroom.

While she curtained the window and started drying herself, she noticed, in the corner of her eye her phone that was lying on the chest of drawers by the window.

Of course, Effie thought of Seneca daily. Not all the time, but often enough to make her feel regretful. By the pool, where she liked it the most and where he could have been sitting next to her or where she could watch him while he was swimming; before she fell asleep, because she knew that if he could be here, he’d be falling asleep next to her, under the same blanket, breathing the same air, their bare skins brushing against each other; when she was walking around the set and thinking of how everything could have been so very different, had he still been here.

She liked Venice but she couldn’t wait for the filming to finally move to Florence, where she’d get much more shooting time. She needed to distract herself and there was no better way to do than to fully immerse herself into her job. Now, that she had nothing much to do, she was more likely to get consumed by her ever-present melancholia – and to give into her tendency to be obsessively watching what was going on back home.

The surprising answer was simple – nothing.

Olivia Royston, her publicist and long-time friend, managed to handle the past few rocky weeks gracefully and with a clear mind, something Effie was incapable of lately, too heartbroken and too worried about her career. Now, everything seemed to be settling down and though she knew that real acceptance still wasn’t in her ability at the moment, the worst was finally behind her. Getting to go away for some time was helpful and the one thing she kept in her mind was that the public’s short-term memory is very bad. They might dig out some dirt from time to time or bring it up again when enough months have passed and they were lacking their banner headlines, but nobody really cared.

Except Seneca’s fiancée, of course.

Fiona Winchester has reached out to Effie many times – after Seneca’s death, after his funeral, and after she had learned that they have already casted Haymitch into Seneca’s role and that Effie was the one to help them organize this. She has called Effie many things, starting with whore, and definitely not stopping at a hyena who was just using Seneca for his fame and was still trying to profit from his death. Effie’s publicist, her lawyers and her management were supposed to handle this, but Effie knew what it felt like to be in Fiona’s shoes – she had been with Aiden for five years, after all.

So, truth be told, she was more worried about what Fiona’s rightful anger could do to her career than the public’s fleeting opinions.

True to the credo that no news are also good news, she decided to put all her worries to rest for now and had strictly forbidden herself to try to contact Olivia. After all, if things got bad, she’d know.

She put on a baby blue sundress and a brownish cardigan and started blow-drying her hair, but stopped half-way through, put the dryer back into the holder, sprayed on some perfume, put on some mascara and blush and left her room in determination.

That determination hadn’t left her even after she realized that she had no idea where Haymitch’s room was. Running around the complex looking for him wasn’t what she was willing to do just to get to yell at him, but then she imagined slapping him and it had not only slightly improved her mood, but also reinforced her resolve. Besides, there weren’t that many places where he could be. It was either the cafeteria, the lobby, the pool, the internet café or the pool bar. Or maybe he had stayed on the set, but under no circumstances was she going back there today. It was too humiliating.

There was no trace of him in the café or the lobby, so she headed out. When she walked into the pool area, Peeta and Finnick were already there, sitting on a bench. Finnick was sitting with his back straight as a ruler, with his head up in the air and a dead serious expression on his face while Peeta was drawing something into his sketchbook and had a small mischievous smile on his cracked lips. His freckled face lit up when he looked up and saw her.

“Effie,” he said and Finnick looked over as well, “do you wanna join?”

“Thank you, Peeta, but I am actually looking for someone,“ she said, but out of courtesy walked closer nevertheless. She looked over to Peeta’s lap where he had his pencil case and a paper with the drawing. “Now that is a piece of art.”

“What?” Finnick reached for the paper and whisked it from Peeta’s hands who was trying to take it away from him with a chuckle. “I said a portrait! That’s a caricature, boy. I’m offended, you know? I’m leaving now.”

“See you,” Peeta was still laughing when Finnick got up and dramatically ran his fingers through his reddish locks.

“I’m now going to find a better company.” He turned to Effie and did something like a curtsy. “Not that there’s better company than you, but here my personal portraitist is incapable of doing his job, so I have to act aggrieved now. See you at lunch.”

He left them there alone, disappearing into the cafeteria where he headed straight to the dessert section where he winked at a ginger girl in the hotel’s white uniform.

“Sissy,” Peeta laughed and raised the sketchbook. “I might sometimes come draw here. It’s quiet. It seems like we’re the only guests in this whole place.”

“I am actually fine with that,” Effie admitted and watched him open the sketchbook and a glimpse of a few drawing and doodles have caught her attention. “Would you mind if I had a look?”

Peeta’s ears and cheeks turned crimson. “I don’t know, I mean- I don’t mind, but… it’s nothing much, really.”

“I’m sure you are very talented,” she said when he gave the notebook to her.

The very first drawing was a sketch of a sculpture by a rosebush. It wasn’t colored, but the shading was brilliant, and it had an atmosphere and came across pretty realistic. In the right corner beneath it was Peeta’s humble signature. The next few pages were similar scenes, and then there was an unfinished picture of the St. Mark’s Basilica and the St. Mark’s Square. Peeta had a significant sense of detail – the people in the streets, the ornamentation of the church, the atmosphere. He bothered to draw each face and each ice cream con and every old cobble.

“What are you saying, they are great,” Effie argued genuinely and handed it back. “I am being serious, this must have taken you so much time and effort.”

“Thanks, but not really,” he replied, still blushing badly, “it kind of just finishes itself. It’s a relax.” He paused and then he seemed like he wanted to add something, but Effie’s attention was distracted by a sight that deeply concerned her. Peeta’s eyes followed her gaze through one of the many huge French windows that were the partition between the pool’s sitting area and the inside bar. “Is that-“

“Yes,” she gritted through her teeth.

“He doesn’t look well.”

“That’s nothing against what’s going to happen to him once I get him.” Effie was up within milliseconds and already on her way to the bar with Peeta in tow.

The bar was empty, with no one but Haymitch sitting at one of the stools, not exactly stably, with three empty whiskey glasses surrounding the fourth, full one, and judging by his state, she could tell that it wasn’t only three whiskeys that were running through his veins now. One look at the abashed bartender, a short dark-haired woman with tattoos covering her neck and arms, and she knew.

“It’s okay,” she told the bartender quietly and approached Haymitch from behind, who was saying something that was hardly eligible and to be honest, Effie felt like she didn’t necessarily need to know. She hit his back and didn’t even bother to make it gentle. “Seriously?”

He turned around violently, spilling the whiskey in the process. His face gave away the fact that he was hardly keeping it together, and when he saw Effie and Peeta, his expression shifted towards annoyed. “Hey, Trinkeeeet… came for a drink?” He turned to the bartender. “Two more!”

“Ignore him,” Effie said sharply and gripped Haymitch by his biceps while looking over her shoulder. “Peeta, have you got any money here? He’ll give it back to you later…”

“I wrote it on his room,” the bartender informed them in a strong Italian accent, shaking her head. “It’s eleven in the morning. Is he okay?”

“He won’t be soon,” Effie promised her. “Thank you.”

Together, her and Peeta threw Haymitch’s arms over their shoulders and went on their journey to the elevators, hoping no one was going to see this mess.

“Trinket,” Haymitch put his face way too close to her own, his lips nearly touching her ear which prompted a shiver down her spine, his breath smelling like liquor and held-back vomit, “let’s have a drink… Plut- Plutarch wants us to be friends… are we friends Trinket?”

“I’m going to kill you,” she answered his question simply.

“Haymitch, are you alright?” Peeta asked when the older man let out an ugly drunken hiccup. “Are you getting sick?”

“Yeah, this whole time,” Haymitch’s legs entangled and he temporarily lost his balance, nearly taking both Effie and Peeta with him, hadn’t it been for Peeta’s strong arms holding him up. “I’m sick of everything… I’m sick of this all… and of you, Trinket…“

“Yes, and you are an absolute darling, aren’t you,” she fired back absent-mindedly, looking over the lobby. No one, but the receptionist was there – she gave them a curious look, but didn’t say anything. The elevator took insanely long to come – way too long, because Haymitch obviously was getting pretty sick.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna-“

“No!” both of them let out, and the elevator came just in time – they got in, smashed the button with the third floor, the door closed and Haymitch’s stomach did some akin to a backflip. The next second, its content was all over Effie’s yellow dress.

“YOU IDIOT-“

“Effie-“ Peeta’s fingers touched her arm as he reached out to her over Haymitch’s shoulders in a calming gesture.

“I can’t believe this,” she lashed out, pushing Haymitch away just when the door opened. To their great relief, this hall was empty as well. Peeta was definitely right about the place being very calm. “I’m going to murder him. Which room is it?”

“I don’t know,” Peeta turned to Haymitch. “Which room?”

“I don’t know…” he hiccupped again, gripping their shoulders tightly. “I think… I don’t know… I’ve gotta-“

“It should be on the card,” Effie said and reached into the pocket of Haymitch’s jeans.

“You didn’t even let me buy you a drink and you’re sticking your hand in my pants?”

Effie was about to spat something in return, but she just got the card and pulled it out. “Twenty-four.”

They stumbled with their drunken co-star a few doors back and clumsily put the card into the code reader. Together, all three got into the room and Effie let Peeta lead Haymitch directly into the en-suited bathroom form which she could hear the typical sounds following a heavy drinking and shut the door behind her.

She took a defeated look at her dress. She smelled like liquor, vomit and the expensive clothes were ruined for good – she certainly wasn’t keeping them after this. His room was messy, she had expected that, but it was also dirty and she was disgusted by it, almost as much as by what he had just done to her dress. There was a pool of whiskey and shards of a broken bottle by his bed, which was probably what had lead him into the bar. After silently cursing him, she entered the bathroom to see Peeta helping Haymitch out of his dirty clothes covered in whiskey and vomit stains.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Peeta threw Haymitch’s shirt into the sink and turned on the water in the shower. “You can go put yourself together, I can manage it here.”

Effie pouted at the prospect. “Are you sure? I shouldn’t leave you here like this…”

“If there’s a problem, I’ll let you know,” Peeta promised. “I’ll stay with him for a while. He shouldn’t be alone. I’ll order him some coffee and something light to eat. It’s going to be alright.”

“Fine,” she agreed finally, fully aware that it didn’t take that much to persuade her and she wasn’t even feeling too bad about it. She walked over to Peeta to caress his arm gratefully and bowed down to Haymitch who was mumbling something she couldn’t properly make out. Just as she was about to tell him that he was going to regret this tomorrow day, he threw up again. “Okay,” she stood up straight and adjusted her clothes, quite uselessly, considering their state. “Thank you so much, Peeta. I’ll come check on you two once I… get rid of this,” she waved at the horribly smelling stains on her dress and left the bathroom.

Once she closed the door behind her, she faced Plutarch.

“Effie-“ he eyed her up and down questioningly, taking in the stains on her dress and the angry flush on her cheeks. “What happened? Isn’t that Haymitch’s room?”

“Yes, he…” she hesitated for a second, “he got sick. Peeta is there with him.”

She could see the suspicion of the worst dancing across his features, so she had chosen to elaborate. “He ate something bad. He’s going to be okay, just minor food poisoning, I’d say.”

“Oh God…” Plutarch sighed heavily and rubbed his temple. “Is he going to be okay? I need him to be fine, we’ve got two more scenes to do here…”

“He’ll be perfectly fine by tomorrow,” Effie reassured him promptly, “trust me, it’s nothing serious. He just needs to get it all out and rest. Peeta said he’ll tell me how he’s doing.”

“Where did you two even disappear?” He asked angrily. “I was just looking for you. I thought you would both come back once you put yourselves together, and then Cressida comes and says that you have both decided to just-“

“I’m so sorry, Plutarch,” she interrupted him sternly, “but I can’t work with him. It’s just beyond me right now-“

“Effie, you are an actress,” he hissed. “For the love of God. You don’t have to like each other, though I’d prefer it if you did. But just do your job. Get over your egos. I’m sorry about what happened this morning, but listen to this – I don’t care what is going on between you two, I don’t care if you show up drunk or sober, I don’t care if your mothers died, I don’t care if-“ he inhaled sharply when he realized he was raising his voice a little too much. “Whatever happens, you two are going to be on the set tomorrow morning, exactly at eight, ready to do what you have promised me to do. Are we clear?”

Effie felt the blush appearing on her chest and neck, but decided to keep decorum. “Very well,” she said quietly, “I will make sure of that.”

“Okay. I’ll come take a look at him later.” He measured Effie with one more doubtful look. “I just hope it wasn’t the lobsters.” With that, he turned around to disappear in the elevator.

iii.

Haymitch hadn’t appeared during dinner, which wasn’t surprising, and when Effie asked Peeta, he said that he was still asleep. Peeta took Haymitch’s card with the words that he didn’t need it right now anyway and went to check on him every two hours. Effie went with him after dinner, in a clean salmon dress, with a glass of water, a bowl of chicken soup she had ordered to her room, and a bottle of Advil.

He was lying on his stomach, in a stained white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, and these clothes were drained with sweat. His facial muscles were jerking and he was shaking in his sleep. When she carefully placed the back of her hand on his forehead, she grew worried. “I think he has a fever. Maybe we should call someone.”

“Wait,” Peeta said and ran out, leaving the door cracked open. From the hall, Effie could hear a knocking and quiet voices.

While she waited, she watched the man in the bed. He was repelling and the mere look at him made her so angry. This was exactly what she was so afraid would happen. This was what they could have expected to happen. She’d gladly slap him all over his face and she just wanted him to get better so she could accomplish that.

“We’re back,” Peeta announced when he rushed back into the room with Katniss at his feet. She had her hair in a loose side braid and her grumpy face and a phone in her hand were clear indicators that taking care of Haymitch Abernathy wasn’t what she had planned to do this evening. “Katniss’ mum is a nurse. She knows what to do.”

“Actually, I don’t. I’m not a nurse,” the girl replied moodily, setting her grey eyes on the sleeping Haymitch. “What happened?”

Effie sighed. “He got drunk. We don’t know how much he had, but I don’t think it’s normal to sleep for so long, and he looks like he has a fever, so…”

With a resigned grunt, Katniss walked over to him, pressed her hand against his forehead like Effie previously did, put her palm on his back to feel his fitful breathing and looked over to them. “How much does he drink?”

Neither of them knew the answer. “He has problems with this, we all know that,” Peeta said, “he was supposed to get somewhat sober before coming here.”

“But he drank today,” Effie added, rage taking over her once more when she remembered that day.

“It could be withdrawals, but I’m not sure.” Katniss got up and started typing something on her phone. “Maybe he knew he was falling into it so he went to get something to drink and had too much. He should be fine, but I’ll ask mum.”

“I’ll tell Chaff,” Effie decided. “Thank you, Katniss. Maybe we should leave him be for now. We’ll see in the morning.”

Katniss nodded without much concern and put the phone into the pocket of her corduroy brown pants, already on the leave. “Someone should check on him before going to bed.”

"Thanks,” Peeta said, but Katniss was on her way out of the door and didn’t pay any attention to his gratitude. “And sorry for bothering.”

Effie folded her arms over her chest and pouted. “Is everyone from the South like this?”

“I’m not,” Peeta chuckled lightly. “I’ll check on him before I’ll go to sleep and if he’s not better tomorrow morning, we’ll tell Plutarch what happened and will take him to the hospital or something.”

“I’ll come take a look at him, too,” Effie said defeatistly, uncomfortable with the thought of letting the boy look after this absolutely unpredictable man on his own. “Just knock on my door when you’re going.”

The whole filming was, indeed, already a disaster.

iv.

 The night was ink dark, soaked with the smell of drying rain on the concrete and filled with wet fog, leaving petite drops of water on the windshield, rearview mirror and the battered bodywork. The wipers were still on, running frantically from one side to the other and his eyes followed them. He couldn’t remember how to turn them off.

He saw the front lights in his peripheral vision, but his reactions were too slow. The rough leather of the steering wheel felt slippery beneath his palms, even though they were sweaty, and the highway in front of him was, he could swear, winding, but, and he was almost sure of that, there weren’t supposed to be any corners or curves.

But there was someone else, someone who was touching his face, his neck, who was whispering something to him, and they somehow didn’t fit into that narrative, but they weren’t changing it, either. This narrative always led to the same ending.

The second car was way too close but his body wasn’t collaborating with his brain’s confused orders. He originally wanted to press the brake but it was too late; so he just pulled the steering wheel, but there was a crash nevertheless.

The last thing he heard was the crunch of tires, someone’s screams and a deafening blast; the last thing he felt was the gravity-defeating force that launched him through the windshield.

 v.

 His whole body jerked and his eyes shot open. His vision was blurry, but he located a ceramic bowl and a glass of water on his nightstand. The windows were cracked open and there was a clean shirt for him on the chair beside the bed. The room smelled like disinfection and flowers. It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t in Richmond and that he wasn’t in a hospital, either, and that there were no fresh flowers. The smell was vaguely familiar, though.

[ellanainthetardis]

Twelve, its landscapes, its graveyards and its victors... Let me know your thoughts!

[ff] or [ao3]

Chapter 51 :  Lifeline

Haymitch wasn’t really aware of shaking off Effie’s arm but he was alone when he advanced in the narrow path between the freshly new dug graves. There were always new graves in the graveyard, that was the thing. Twelve wasn’t a huge District and lifespan wasn’t long. He had often wondered if there would come a point when the balance would tilt and there would be more dead people than newborns, if they would go extinct. Not that the Capitol would let that happen. They would move people from other Districts, the coal mines were too precious to be abandoned.

The graveyard was closer to the woods than to the town, almost overlooking the Seam, and it was more difficult to ignore the memories of the arena there. He licked his lips and buried his trembling hands in the pockets of his brand new coat, trying hard not to think that that coat was probably warmer than any blanket a family in the Seam could afford

Tombs were pretty simple in Twelve. The only fancy ones were the victors graves and he carefully didn’t look in that direction for now. Stone was too expensive, even for people from town, and most of the time, families made do with a simple wooden cross or a huge boulder, coffins were already an extravagance. With snow covering everything it was hard to keep track on what – or who – he was stepping on.

It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for, though.

The grave was unassuming, lost between two others just as insignificant in appearance. There was a wooden cross that was dangerously tilting to the left and that he straightened by the force of habits. It had been a while since he had come there. The carvings on the wood were nearly faded.

He was hyper aware of Effie standing two feet behind him and he felt stupidly self-conscious. He didn’t even know what he was doing there truth be told. He had come a lot at first, in the months following his first victory, then he had stopped coming because there was nothing for him there. The grave was just a grave. They were dead and nothing could change that.

He hadn’t even been there to bury them.

Space was always a problem in the graveyard. There had been talks of starting another one on the other side of the District but they had never gotten the green light from the Capitol or something. It seemed so surreal to have to secure permission from bureaucrats at the other end of the country to bury their dead… If he had died as planned… If Effie had managed to get in touch with Undersee… They would have put him in there with them. They would have dug up the grave and tossed his coffin in there and added his name on the cross and they would finally have been reunited and…

And he had survived them.

Again.

It was jarring to realize he had spent more time alone than with them. It was jarring to realize in a few years he would be older than his mother had been when she had died.

He outstretched his arm behind him, reaching for he didn’t know what.

At least until a hand slipped in his and he felt her come to rest against his side, warm and alive.

“Hello.” she said brightly, because of course she was that sort of people who talked to graves. Of course. It made him smile despite it all. She was just so… Effie. She must have caught his amusement because she frowned. “What is it?”

He shook his head and pressed a kiss against her forehead just because he could. “Never change, sweetheart.”

She seemed a  bit puzzled by that but dismissed it, leaning heavily against his side. “Do you think they would have liked me?”

His instinctive answer was no because he hadn’t even liked her at first and she was an escort. They might have grown to be alright with it but he doubted it would have been a love at first sight kind of thing.

“You’re an acquired taste.” he deadpanned and got his arm whacked for his trouble. She immediately winced in pain and glared at her injured hand as if it had personally insulted her. They needed to take care of it, wrap it before it could swell. He gave a last glance at the grave, not feeling much of anything. He missed them, that was the thing, but it was a pain he carried around everywhere and all the time, not something he felt specifically when he was standing in front of their last resting place. It was hard to say what his family would have thought of his life choices. He hoped they would  have understood. He wasn’t foolish enough to think they would have been proud but he hoped they would have understood. “Let’s go.”

She hesitated. “Do you mind if… I would like to visit the victors patch.”

He shrugged, a bit reluctant but unwilling to refuse her that much. He led the way.

Katniss’ grave would have been hard to miss even without him as a guide.

The victors patch was nothing more than a somehow empty spot at the left end of the graveyard where tombs actually looked like mausoleums. Twelve’s only victor before him hadn’t lasted long, he wasn’t sure what the man had died of but his grave had been there for as long as Haymitch could remember and was starting to crumble because nobody cared enough to take care of it. Katniss’ was brand new and clearly regularly seen to.

The snow had been cleared from the white marble and it was hard to miss her name in golden letters, the dates or the proudly displayed Victor of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. That was standard, he figured. There were two marble slabs placed on top that had clearly been exported from the city and he wondered how much of that had been Effie’s doing. One of them was engraved with a sober ‘Beloved Daughter, Beloved Sister’, the other had a picture and a single ‘Beloved’. It was so obviously from Peeta that Haymitch’s heart clenched. Someone had also placed a bow and an arrow on top of the grave – that was most likely the Hawthorne boy.

He hung back while Effie approached, not quite sure he had any right to be there at all. The corpse in that tomb was only there because he had fucked up. He should have gotten from under that tree more quickly. He should have protected Katniss better. He should have been the one getting his head split in two. He should have…

“Hello, dear.” Effie whispered, placing her hand at the edge of the grave. Her fingers were quivering and Haymitch averted his eyes, staring at a bird hopping around a few feet away. “I miss you very much.” Effie’s voice cracked and he took a deep breath. “I am so very sorry.”

He knew she was crying and it was too much for him.

He turned on his heels and stalked out of there, only breathing again once he had passed the graveyard gates. He had always found it very ironical that they were so similar to the Village’s. He leaned his back against the stone wall and felt around his pockets by reflex, looking for the packet of cigarettes he always seemed to carry around nowadays because he was apparently unable to live without poisoning himself. They were empty. He kicked the wall with a curse and rubbed his eyes.

Fuck but he missed the girl. He missed her so fucking much.

He had been clinging to his guilt for so long that it was all he had let himself feel. He hadn’t realized how much he missed her. He hadn’t realized how much…

His eyes were red when Effie finally walked out of the graveyard but if she noticed, she didn’t comment. Perhaps because her mascara was a bit smudged.

“We should go to the Village.” she suggested as if nothing at all had happened, sounding cheerful and just as bubbly as that new escort except it sounded extremely fake to his ears. “Or did you want to look around the Seam?”

“The Village’s good.” he muttered.

They walked fast and in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

The Victors’ Village was the same as ever and he felt the same dread walking past the gates as he always had before. It had been a prison for a long time. A self-appointed one, perhaps, but a prison nonetheless.

The fountain was still there, still broken.

The same stray tabby cat disappeared behind the corner of a house at their approach.

The grey sky still looked as if it was about to come down and swallow them whole and he still wasn’t sure it wouldn’t be a good thing.

The streets were deserted and empty and depressing.

“Haymitch!”

The voice was too young and too girly to belong to Peeta. It took him aback and he turned around just in time to see Prim drop her school bag and rush toward him.

He braced himself for the attack, certain little fists would soon barrel into him and harsh words would be shouted – and he wouldn’t deny her, he had no right to deny her.

He braced himself but he was unprepared for the collision and he stumbled back, almost falling down on his ass. He caught her because he didn’t want her to hurt herself even if she was bent on hurting him. He thought that was what she was trying to do at first, strangle him. It took him a couple of minutes to realize she was actually hugging him.

And when he understood that…

He hugged back. Too hard probably but she didn’t protest, she simply buried her face in his neck, he could feel her cold nose against his skin. He thought she might have been crying a little too but he was too stunned to do more than hold her.

He met Effie’s eyes over the girl’s shoulder, adjusting his grip on her so she wouldn’t fall because her feet were dangling a few inches over the ground. His escort didn’t look particularly surprised but she was teary and she hastily looked away.

“Why didn’t you come back?” Prim asked after a moment.

“I…” he hesitated.  “It’s complicated, sweetheart.”

“Peeta says you thought we would hate you.” the girl insisted, letting go of his neck. He made sure her feet were back on the ground before letting go, pulling a little on one of her braids by reflex. She batted his hand away just like old times and it was so… odd.

“Don’t you?” he cringed, confused.

Maysilee’s family, his old friends… Nobody had wanted anything to do with him after his Games.

Prim studied him with eyes that were far too old and wise for her age. She looked sad and tired. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Effie had said it on countless occasions.

Peeta had said it a couple of times.

Alina had tried to make him understand.

But it wasn’t until he heard it from Katniss’ sister’s lips that he thought he might eventually believe it.

And damn it if his eyes weren’t burning again.

“I missed you.” Prim declared, sneaking her arms around his waist and hugging him once more. “Don’t disappear like that again. You’re family. She would never have wanted… You’re family, Haymitch.”

He hugged her tight again, feeling more humbled and grateful than he had ever felt before in his long life. That girl… She was something. He understood only too well why Katniss had been ready to give her life for her.

After a few minutes, Effie discreetly cleared her throat.

Prim startled and moved away from him, wiping her cheeks to greet the Capitol properly. It was a lot more subdued but the girl seemed happy enough to see her – what he got from the conversation was that Effie had been sending a lot of care packages to Twelve in the last few months and that the care packages involved clothes and girly stuff nobody really needed.

But that was Effie’s attempts at comforting a young girl, he supposed.

“Let’s go home.” Prim declared, grabbing his sleeve and not leaving him much of a choice in the matter.

“You still live here?” he frowned. He hadn’t thought they would have been allowed. In fact, he had been fairly sure Thread would have showed up as soon as Katniss died to chase them out of the Village.

“Prim and Mrs Everdeen live with Peeta now.” Effie informed him, sounding a bit put out. “Do you even listen to me when I talk?”

To be honest, he tended not to when she talked about Twelve. She called Peeta regularly, he knew that much, but since it upset him, she tried not to do it when he was around. And when she talked about it… He didn’t always pay attention.

He wasn’t that surprised though. Peeta was a good boy. He wouldn’t have let Katniss’ family starve in the Seam.

“Mom’s sick again.” Prim informed him. “She might act as if you’re not there. Don’t mind her.”

Sick was a nice euphemism for depressed, he was sure. He wasn’t certain he was ready to find himself face to face with Aster Everdeen. He had planned on avoiding it if he could help it.

It might have been the coward’s way out but he stopped dead in the middle of the street. The girl was looking at him expectantly, as if she didn’t really understand why the delay. Haymitch’s grey eyes darted around…

“I… I want to check my house first, yeah?” he said, jumping on the first excuse he could find. “You go ahead, sweetheart. I’ll catch up.” He saw Effie pursing her lips but he wasn’t in the mood for her lectures so he waved her off. “You too. I’m just gonna…”

“I will go with you.” she cut him off. “You said you would tend to my hand anyway.”

“The kid can do that.” he countered, looking at Prim. “She hurt her hand, you can take care of it, yeah?”

“I would rather you do it.” Effie insisted before the girl could agree.

Prim’s gaze traveled from the escort to the victor and then she forced a smile. “I have to go home or Peeta is going to worry. I’ll tell him you’re here. Don’t be too long. We can have tea! I think he baked some lemon cakes this morning.”

“Lemon cakes, how lovely!” the escort exclaimed, gently ushering the girl in the direction of Peeta’s house. “We won’t be a tick.”

They were more than a tick and he was annoyed with her. He glowered all the way to his house and scowled when he realized he didn’t have his keys – not that he should have cared about that because the front door was open, just like he had left it when he had left on the day of the Reaping.

It had been six months. He expected his house to be dusty and smelly.

It had never been as clean or fresh. It felt a little like walking into it for the first time when everything had been so impersonal and cold.

“Peeta pays your housekeeper so she keeps coming. He employs her too now, I believe.” Effie explained without needing his prompting. “I think he was trying to do something nice for Katniss’ friend.”

He couldn’t really protest that, now, could he? Hazelle sure needed the money.

The living-room, the kitchen… Even his bedroom… Every room he walked in felt foreign. The stuff was his but it was too clean, too tidy. He liked his chaos. He liked that he had managed to make Effie’s apartment a little more disorganized.

This house he had never really managed to call home was not even his house anymore.

He would grab his books, he told himself, because they were the only things of value he had left and then he would never put a foot back in there.

The first aid kit was in the bathroom where he had left it the last time. He found a salve of something that should do well enough for her bruised hand and grabbed her wrist without much care. He wasn’t gentle either when he rubbed it in.

She didn’t complain.

It irked him up all the more.

Her behavior had been stupid in the first place and he was still furious about that. She was reckless like she never used to be. It was dangerous. They couldn’t afford reckless moves anymore.

He wrapped her hand in gauze, making sure her thumb was secured, and then he glared at it instead of letting go. He had known coming back to Twelve would be difficult but it was worse than he had thought. He longed for the city and its pretences, the easy distractions and the loathing he could bathe in because those people were ridiculous and it was easier to judge. But was he so different from them when he had left his home behind for…

Effie was suddenly in his space, her mouth brutally crashing on his… It didn’t take much more than that for him to give a shape to his anger. The kisses were violent. He bit down on her bottom lip hard enough that he tasted blood and she reciprocated by digging her teeth in the soft flesh under his jaw. The pain was sharp, almost too thrilling.

He shoved her against the wall.

She grabbed the coat he had never taken off and tugged him closer but he didn’t want to play by her rules. It only took him a second to clasp her wrists high above her head, pinning her in place with his hips while he unbuttoned her coat so he felt less like he was about to fuck a polar bear.

Fucking Capitols.

“I hate you.” he snarled and she drew in a sharp breath. When was the last time he had told her that? Months. A year. More? The words hurt but that was good. She should hurt. He had survived for her. He had branded himself a traitor for her. He had given up on everything he was, everything he stood for. He…

He kissed her hard, tightened his grip on her wrists, slipped a leg between hers… He groaned when she sucked on his tongue, getting lost in the way she was grinding against his thigh, searching for friction, searching for… He brought his leg up, propping his knee against the wall, pressing his thigh against her core to the point it must have been uncomfortable, preventing her from rubbing herself on him, keeping her in place.

He liked that she never simply surrendered. He liked that he had to earn that. He liked that sometimes she just refused to give in until he had thoroughly fucked her and even then she wanted to be in charge because she was just that bossy. There were days when he humored her, let her play with him like she wanted. Today wasn’t one of those days.    

He searched her eyes, looked for any hint that she didn’t want this because he was wary of hurting her, always wary… But she didn’t look afraid or reluctant. She was always game, that was the thing with Effie, she always wanted to please him. Sometimes, he thought she would never protest, not even if he took it too far.

“I want your lipstick on my dick.” he stated.

She shivered, either aroused by his crudeness or by the prospect of him walking around all afternoon with that ugly shade of peach on his privates. He let go of her wrists, stepped back, and watched her sink to her knees without a second of hesitation.

She struggled with his pants and he undid them for her, not gone enough to risk her hurting her hand further. Then her mouth was there, warm and wet, and he closed his eyes, stumbled back until he could lean against the sink, forcing her to crawl forward to follow him.

He had planned on fucking her mouth mercilessly so he surprised himself when he didn’t grab her wig. Clearly, it surprised her too.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” she hummed, giving him a teasing lick from base to head.

He told her. And every time he asked for something, she did it without question.

“Good girl.” he whispered from time to time, because that was what he always said when they were playing it rough and she was that submissive. He was fooling himself into thinking he was in charge at that moment though. She could have easily had him flat on his back and he would have let her ride him. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know… “Swallow.” he demanded, knowing she wouldn’t mind, knowing also that if she didn’t want to she would simply move back. She didn’t though. She took him whole in her mouth, almost choking when he finally came.

She coughed when he pulled out, quickly wiping her mouth on the back of her good hand, because there was one thing she hated and it was him seeing her drooling. Not sexy at all, she had claimed once. It was in a way, though. There had been a time when he had loved to make her drool around his dick, to fuck her mouth so hard tears would come to her eyes… It had made him feel powerful to fuck the Capitol. It still did to some extent and… It troubled him how violent and cruel his urges toward her sometimes got.

He pulled her up to her feet and embraced her tight.

Why was he still using her like that?

She meant so much to him. She meant everything. And yet there he was, using her to pass his frustration on… If his mother had still been alive, if she had known how he was treating his wife…

Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? She wasn’t just his escort anymore, hadn’t been for a long time, and he had put a ring on her finger and… You simply didn’t treat your wife like that. Not in Twelve. In the Capitol maybe but he wasn’t Capitol. Unless he was. Unless they had changed him so much that…

“It’s alright, darling.” she hummed, her good hand combing through his hair. “I enjoyed it.”

He didn’t think she was lying but he wondered how she could enjoy it. She deserved better. More.

“Tell me what you want.” he mumbled in her neck.

“Nothing.” She frowned, he heard it in her voice. “We really should…”

“No.” he cut her off. “Tell me what you want. Please.”

He would have dropped to his knees if she had ordered. He would have eaten her out or fingered her or anything she asked for. He didn’t like it when she got him to submit but maybe at that moment he needed it, needed her to take control, needed to make this even because…

He really didn’t want to be the brute who took and never gave.

He was dysfunctional but he didn’t want to be an asshole.

She relaxed in his arms and he tightened his embrace, planting soft kisses along the side of her neck.

“Tell me you love me.” she requested softly.

Here, in that house, those words were more difficult to utter. He hadn’t quite become used to saying them but they came out now and then when they were in her apartment. She said them so liberally, so freely… He had slowly grown comfortable with offering them back. They came out on their own volition sometimes.

They weren’t as frightening as before because they were a pact between them.

He loved her and so he stayed alive.

She loved him and so she stayed alive.

But there, in that house where everything was loneliness, pain and death…

He closed his eyes and breathed her perfume, let her presence soothe the fears he couldn’t quite suppress… He pretended they were elsewhere. At home. And it wasn’t until he had thought the word that he realized that it was what her apartment – their apartment now, he supposed – had become. Home.

“I love you.” he mumbled at long last. “I’m sorry.”

For being a jerk, for being so weak or for taking without giving he wasn’t sure. She could take her pick.

“Do not be.” she chided. “I told you a hundred times already… If I weren’t willing, I would let you know.”

He kissed her hard but not as brutally as before.

“I don’t deserve you.” he muttered awkwardly against her lips, a bit too genuine.

She must have picked up on it but she chose to laugh it off. “And don’t you forget it. Now… Try to make yourself presentable again. We really should go.”

She tried to salvage her smudged make-up while he tucked everything back inside his pants, making sure nobody could tell what they had been up to.

He was a little more relaxed, at least. And yet he remained jumpy even when they left his house to go to Peeta’s. He had prepared himself to see the boy again but the moment the kid opened the door, everything came rushing back.

Promising Peeta he would get Katniss back to him. The axe in Katniss’ head. The blood on his hands.

He hugged the boy back after a second too long, his mind flashing back to the present with a stomach churning speed. Effie was loud and at the top of her flamboyant self, commandeering attention. She was doing it on purpose, he figured, so he could blend a little more in the background, let her handle the situation.

He was grateful for it, even if her high-pitched bubbly act gave him a headache.

Prim appeared around five minutes after Peeta had ushered them to his living-room – so similar to before, it caused Haymitch to lapse again, it made him panic quietly in his corner not to be able to tell when he was, before the Quell, after the Quell… It all blurred together until the teenager put a stop to the ringing in his ears by declaring regretfully that her mother was too tired to come down. Peeta and Prim exchanged a long look but neither of them elaborated on what that meant.

Someone, he suspected the girl, placed a cup of tea in his right hand and a lemon cake in his left. His mind was riveted to the painting that was hanging over the fireplace. It was Katniss in front of a sunset with the woods as a background and Haymitch wondered why Peeta was torturing himself like that, making himself look at her every day, making himself remember when…

His hands were shaking too badly and he spilled some tea on his thigh. It was hot but he didn’t feel the pain, not really.

He did feel it when Effie’s hand casually fell on his leg and rubbed the tension away as if she knew perfectly well what he was thinking. Maybe she did.

He felt remote.

It wasn’t long before the conversation circled back to Katniss.

From small talk to the heavy subjects.

Was six months really enough for the boy and her sister to talk about her so casually? To reminisce about her without feeling that heart crushing pain?

Haymitch couldn’t.

He couldn’t even think about her without wanting to scream.

He woke up at night with her name on his lips, a despair too huge to be borne and a pain in his chest so sharp he often collapsed in Effie’s arms and let her pretend she couldn’t feel his tears burning through her nightgown.

He closed himself off to their voices, refused to listen, refused to laugh with them at how stubborn Katniss had been, refused to share memories, refused to do that thing they called mourning. He didn’t want to mourn her. Once you mourned people, they were in the past. Forgotten. He couldn’t forget her. He couldn’t stop seeing her face. He couldn’t stop…

“And how are you doing, Haymitch?” The question came from Peeta and the boy sounded guarded, almost too formal as if he was talking to a stranger and not to… him. That was his fault, Haymitch supposed, he should make more of an effort. Things between them were… weird.

He realized belatedly that it was the first time he had been addressed directly since he had stepped inside the house. Effie’s hand was still on his thigh and he covered it with his, clinging to her like to a lifeline. That was what she was anyway. His lifeline.

“I’m good.” he forced himself to answer, to lie.

“Are you back on the booze?” the boy asked casually.

“Peeta!” both Effie and Prim snapped at the same time.

“What?” the kid shrugged. “It seems like something I should know. I’m still his mentor, right?”

“That’s enough, I think.” Effie said, a bit cold.

“I ain’t.” he answered, studying the boy, trying to figure out why he was so obviously angry at him. “Took up smoking though.”

“That’s a very Capitol poison to pick up.” Peeta commented, not bothering to hide his resentment anymore. “How are you enjoying living there?”

“It’s not that bad.” he replied defensively. “And it’s far from this shit hole, which is always a plus.” That was harsher than he had intended and he regretted it because Prim looked down, clearly a little hurt by that remark. He squeezed Effie’s hand, grateful when she got the message loud and clear. She got them out of there with a lot of flair and air kisses, making Peeta promise to be ready at seven sharp the next morning for the prep team she would send. Haymitch fumed but kept his peace until they had reached the Village’s gates. “What’s his problem?”

Effie pursed her lips, clearly irritated, but he wasn’t sure it was the boy’s behavior that had annoyed her. “I do not wish to be pulled in the middle. I would rather you work out your problems on your own.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed and then he shook his head. “It’s all about the girl, anyway. He hates me because…”

“No.” she cut him off firmly. “It has nothing to do with Katniss. Not for him anyway.”

That was all she consented to say on the subject. He was tense and furious once more by the time they reached the train but this time sex didn’t seem like an appealing way of solving the situation. He let her run along to entertain the stylist and the future escort or to make sure everything was ready for dinner because god forbade her schedules went through the window, preferring to retreat to their room – her room, technically.

He needed a shower.

His skin was crawling.

[ellanainthetardis]

Let me know your thoughts!

[FF] or (ao3]

50. 5 Months & 7 Weeks

Effie was smiling as she scooped dirty plates off the table, listening to Peeta coo at April. She didn’t think she had stopped smiling all week, truth be told. Haymitch stole the plates from her hands just as she was about to start on the dishes, discarding them in the sink to wrap an arm around her waist and nuzzle her neck.

He had been smiling a lot more too lately.

His other hand found her stomach and if she had thought she couldn’t smile harder, she was mistaken. It was a bit thrilling to keep such a secret. She wanted to burst with it because the idea of having another child was making her… happy.

She was still scared and a bit apprehensive. She wasn’t thrilled about the pregnancy coming so soon after the last one. She wasn’t ecstatic about the idea of being forced to spend more time than necessary at the clinic. She knew there would most likely be difficulties down the line but…

She couldn’t quite bring herself to care for now.

Yes, a second baby seemed like a folly. But it was a folly she would gladly reconcile herself with.

Haymitch seemed to be of a similar mind. He freaked out a lot about how much she ate and about how much she rested and he was generally overprotective but that was only to be expected, she supposed. Every time she could see the fear invade his eyes, the enormity of the situation settling in, he picked up April and cuddled her until he was calm once more – and to say he had once mocked her for using Snowball as a teddy bear…

It would take a while to come to terms with the news, she figured: not to bask in happiness or curl up in sheer terror but to find a balance.

“And now we’re going to pretend that we don’t know Mama and Papa are being mushy right behind my back.” Peeta’s voice suddenly declared, clear and serious in the kitchen’s silence. “It’s an important skill to have, April.”  

Apparently delighted with the game she didn’t understand, their daughter giggled.

Haymitch rolled his eyes just as Effie glanced to check Peeta was still sitting at the table with his back turned to them – which he was.

“I’m allowed to kiss my own damn wife, boy.” Haymitch grumbled, slowly dropping his hand off her stomach.

“Sure.” Peeta laughed, bumping the purple stuffed elephant’s trunk against April’s nose. “It’s just you start kissing Effie and then you forget to stop. I’m trying to teach April not to end up traumatized.”

“Fancy yourself a comedian today, do you?” he snorted, dropping back on the chair he had occupied during lunch.

The soft smile was back on Effie’s lips and she decided to busy herself by fetching coffee cups before she could start crying at something so stupid as her family being completely normal. She still kept a sharp eye on the dog. Snowball was sitting next to Peeta’s chair, tracking his movements with unwavering attention, sometimes edging an inch closer…

She  knew what he was after.

“Snowball if you touch that elephant there will be dire consequences.” she warned when the dog dared place a paw on Peeta’s thigh, not too far from where April’s leg was dangling. “It is not your toy. Bad puppy.”

Snowball looked down, properly chastised and both Haymitch and Peeta laughed. Suddenly, though, the dog forgot his sad act. His head snapped up and he stared at the backdoor, his body all tense as if ready to bolt…

“Haymitch?” Effie asked uncertainly, taking a step back, away from the potential source of danger.

Peeta half rose, April safe in his arms, while Haymitch’s hand flew to the abandoned knife on the table…

Then the backdoor opened and Snowball started barking in earnest, darting to the newcomers and jumping up in joy. His strength and weight made Katniss stumbled back into Johanna who bumped against the doorframe and let out an impressive string of curses. Bags tumbled everywhere.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m back, you stupid furry thing.” Katniss mumbled, awkwardly patting the dog on the head. “How bigger are you gonna get anyway? You look like a small polar bear.”

Her grey eyes eventually left Snowball to look at them with some uncertainty.

Effie realized they were still staring and had yet to say a word. She opened her mouth to greet them properly, to comment on how nice a surprise it was, but Peeta was quicker.

“Katniss.” the boy whispered with open awe.

Effie and Haymitch exchanged a look.

“Hi.” the girl replied, clearly guarded.

“Not exactly the warm welcome we hoped for.” Johanna snickered. “Wrong time or what?”

“Not at all!” Effie exclaimed, finally breaking free of the odd spell that had fallen on the room. “Come in! Come in! I’m so glad to see you!” She hugged Katniss first, a bit gratified when the girl briefly melt against her. “I missed you so much.” she murmured in her victor’s good ear.

“I missed you too.” Katniss admitted in a very low whisper that didn’t carry much further.

Haymitch was right behind her and she let him hug Katniss like he was obviously dying to, turning to Johanna who hastily stepped back with her hands raised in a defensive position. “Don’t you even think about it, Trinket.”

Ignoring the implied threat, she advanced on Seven’s victor and embraced her all the same. Jo remained tensed and she pushed her away after only a few seconds. She gave in a lot more easily to Haymitch’s welcome hug, Effie noticed with a pang.

Watching the children greet each other was painful.

They stared at each other, apparently unsure how to breach the distance…

Effie took pity on them and plucked her daughter from Peeta’s arms, giving him a gentle not quite subtle nudge toward Katniss while she was at it. It seemed to do the trick because he stopped gawking at her and flashed her a beaming smile. He crossed the distance in a few large strides and when he opened his arms, Katniss stepped forward willingly, if a little carefully.

She heard Haymitch sighed in relief next to her.

Johanna, for her part, rolled her eyes.

“Mind if I use your shower?” she asked, picking up the bag she had dropped when she had come in. She was gone, stomping her feet up the stairs, before Effie could answer or tell her where to find clean towels.

Katniss broke the hug, her cheeks a little flushed, and cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t mind a shower either. I’m gonna go home and change.”

“Does that mean we get to keep Jo?” Haymitch complained, making a face. Effie whacked his arm but he simply shrugged. “What? She’s not miss little ray of sunshine.”

“Now, that is really uncalled for.” she rebuked. Although not particularly untrue.

“Can we talk?” Peeta cut in before they could start arguing, searching Katniss’ face almost with despair. “I mean… Not now if you want to rest or… Can we talk soon? I have to go back to the bakery, you could come when you’re done, I… I will close up early.”

“I’m not sure I want to go to the bakery.” Katniss spat, a flush of irritation on her cheeks.

“Delly doesn’t work there anymore.” the boy said quickly. “I… Katniss, I was so stupid.”

“Yes. You were.” the girl declared, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Effie was feeling very out of place and was subtly trying to convey to Haymitch they should leave the room but Haymitch, rude as he was, seemed to think the conversation concerned him too. Not that the children really noticed. Katniss shrugged. “But I was too. I will come by later.”

Before Peeta could thank her or Effie could repeat how good it was to have her home, the girl had grabbed her bag and had fled through the backdoor, forgetting to close it behind her as she was prone to do.

“You still need me to help you with the plumbing or you want to do that tomorrow?” Haymitch asked after a few seconds, displaying more tact than Effie would have given him credits for.

There was apparently a small leak in the kitchen at the bakery that Peeta would have liked to fix before it turned into a flood. And for some unfathomable reason he seemed to think Haymitch was an expert. Effie had suggested more than once calling an actual plumber, remembering only too well how it had ended the last time Haymitch had tried to fix something plumbing related – with her moping the floor and him very very vexed.

“No, let’s go.” Peeta mumbled, sounding star-struck. “It shouldn’t take long anyway.”

Haymitch shrugged as if to say he was in charge and then turned to Effie. “You’re good to stay here with Jo? ‘Cause…” His grey eyes briefly darted down to her stomach and back up. “Try to take it easy, yeah?”

Peeta was fortunately too focused on staring at the door Katniss had just gone through as if it would make her come back quicker to notice anything odd.

“I will be fine.” she promised. He still looked a little worried so she rolled her eyes, the soft smile stretching her lips again. “I will take a short nap.”

Relief immediately flashed on his face. “Good. You do that, sweetheart.”

He pecked her lips – probably longer than was totally proper in front of the boy – dropped a kiss on April’s head and followed Peeta out the door. They hadn’t left the backyard yet that she heard him ask Haymitch if she was alright and why she should have been taking it easy. He muttered something about her still recovering from the last big panic attack even if it had been close to a month now.

She shook her head and turned to grab the purple elephant, intending to put April down for her nap before cleaning up what was left of their lunch. The stuffed toy was suspiciously absent from the table, the chair or the immediate vicinity.

So was Snowball.

“Oh, that dog!” she scowled. She tracked the puppy down to the living-room where he was lying on his bed, looking far too innocent. She pursed her lips at him. “Where did you hide it?” Snowball tilted his head to the side, playing confused. “None of that. I know you stole it. Bad puppy. Very bad puppy.”

It would come around eventually and April was getting fussy so she abandoned the search to carry her daughter upstairs, wondering a little what was taking Johanna so long. Seven’s victor wasn’t exactly partial to long showers or baths. She had mostly mastered her water phobia but it didn’t mean she enjoyed soaking any more than Effie liked staying in an untidy environment.

She heard absolutely no noise from the bathroom all the time it took to change April’s diaper and place her in the crib. She watched her daughter stare at the dancing stars and unicorn of the mobile, gently petting her hair until her little eyes closed, marveling at the way her fingers clung to the cat ragdoll in her sleep. April was so beautiful, so perfect… She could have stared at her all day.

Still, there was a mysterious disappearance to solve.

She hurried to her bedroom to grab the baby monitor, planning on knocking on the bathroom door on her way back. It turned out not to be necessary because Johanna was fast asleep on her and Haymitch’s bed – to be fair, it was the only bed upstairs but still it wasn’t done to steal someone’s bedroom like that.

Effie didn’t want to disturb her so she simply took what she had come for and left, softly nudging the door shut behind her.

The now – blissfully – free of junk guest room was staring back at her from the other side of the corridor but what they would do with it was still a bit unclear. She wanted to turn it into a bedroom for April so the nursery could be free for the new baby. April shouldn’t have needed it as much by then and she had seen so many darling examples of little girls’ rooms in the magazines her mother kept sending that she was dying to give her daughter something just as cute.

She didn’t want to go too fast though.

It was early days still and if something happened to the baby…

She briefly placed her hand on her stomach and retreated downstairs. Cleaning the kitchen didn’t take long and she moved on to the living-room, a bit flustered because she hadn’t been expecting any guest and it wasn’t exactly up to her standards.

Haymitch would certainly have had something to say about the way she ran left and right with cleaning products but after a simple hour of work, everything was like she wanted it – the missing elephant having been found behind the armchair and Snowball banished to the backyard to contemplate the errors of his way. She forced herself to lie down on the couch because she was starting to feel a little dizzy.

“You are going to insist on having all our attention, aren’t you?” she chuckled, slipping her hand under her blouse to gently rub her stomach.

This pregnancy felt different from April’s. With April she had spent so long being terrified of losing her that she hadn’t really connected with the baby until a few months in. That time… She felt the connection already. She felt it down to her guts. And she loved that baby. She kept telling herself it was too soon to be hopeful, that her medical history meant she had to be careful with her feelings to the risk of getting her heart crushed, that they didn’t know if it would stick yet… But she loved that baby and nothing would trump that.

Perhaps it meant she had healed a little… Perhaps it meant she had learned to be hopeful again.

She must have dozed off a little because next thing she knew, she startled awake to a baby crying. She sat up immediately, swung her legs off the couch, but the moment she tried to stand up, she had to sit back down and breathe. She didn’t need to glance at the clock to know it must have been close to four in the afternoon because the wave of nausea was fresh and strong and apparently morning sickness didn’t only just happen in the morning.

“What’s up with you?” Johanna’s voice drifted through the baby monitor. “They left you all alone?” Effie relaxed a little and took a minute to make sure she wouldn’t throw up before finally standing up once more, albeit more carefully than before. “Not like your mom to leave you like that. What’s up with your mouth? That hurts?”

Alarmed by what Johanna was saying, Effie forgot any thought about her own discomfort and rushed upstairs. Seven’s victor was standing next to the crib, rocking the baby, a finger in her daughter’s mouth for whatever reason…

“Her gums are irritated.” Jo mumbled. “Might be a tooth coming up.”

“Oh.” Effie frowned because she had noticed April had seemed really intent on sucking on her own hands lately but she hadn’t made the link and now she felt terrible about it. Had her daughter tried to tell her she was in pain and had she missed it? “How do you…”

“I remember from Finn.” the victor shrugged, fishing the pacifier from the crib and popping it in the baby’s mouth. “There are those plastic rings… You put them in the freezer and then you let her suck on it. Helps.”

They had purchased those, hadn’t they? They had purchased almost everything when she had still been pregnant. She hesitated for a second but Johanna made no move to hand April back and her daughter seemed content for now so she turned to the dresser and rummaged in the bottom drawer – the one that was full of things they didn’t have an immediate need for. She found what she was looking for still under wraps and held it out for Jo’s inspection. “Is that the one?”

Seven’s victor gave it only a cursory glance. “Yeah.”

The mood was quickly becoming awkward but Effie wasn’t entirely sure why. Jo looked embarrassed to be caught rocking April and, more than that, to not seem able to let go of her. She wanted to suggest going downstairs to the kitchen so they could have tea – with lemon in her case in the vague hope it would soothe her stomach – but she was certain Johanna was working something over in her mind and that if Effie said the wrong thing, she would close up and storm off. She sat on the rocking-chair, waiting for Jo to either say it or…

The small swaying of the chair wasn’t doing anything for her nausea and she made a face, instinctively placing a hand on her stomach as if it would soothe the raspberry-sized baby causing all those problems.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jo asked, all suspicious.

Her eyes were studying her, probably seeing everything Effie was trying to hide and ticking off neat little boxes.

“Nothing serious. I haven’t been so well since the thing with the Peacekeeper.” she dismissed, choosing to follow in Haymitch’s footsteps with her lie. “I don’t sleep well and my body is making me pay for it.”

It was more honest than she would have been with the children but Jo was different. Jo had been right there with her and while she had tried to shield her as much as she had been able… Well, the fact was Peeta and Annie had been the ones to protect and that duty had tacitly fell on her and Johanna. They had been allies in those cells. They had been…

She closed her eyes, not really wanting to let her mind go there.

“Where is he now? The guy?” Jo asked, her voice sharp and icy. If she found him, she would kill him. Effie knew that with clear certainty. Haymitch might have been tempted but Johanna would never pause to think.

“Gone.” she whispered. “He left a letter if you are interested. Peeta kept it.”

The boy had seemed to found more peace in it than she had. She didn’t care about the Peacekeeper or his reasons. She didn’t care if he was a nice young man who had lost his way. She didn’t care if they had brainwashed him into doing something he thought was his duty.

All she cared about was that she had been hurt, her friends had been hurt, her son in everything but blood had been hurt.

“Only interested in making him bleed.” Johanna growled, predictably.

“Do not threaten to murder people with my daughter in your arms if you please.” she sighed, forcing her eyelids open to check April was still alright. The baby was now busy trying to grab the short strands of hair framing the victor’s face.

Jo rolled her eyes but turned her attention to the child. She never made silly faces or even attempted to start one of those ridiculous conversations Effie and Haymitch found themselves having so often with the baby but April didn’t look disappointed or unsettled about that. She didn’t cry out, she didn’t fuss too much… It seemed she felt safe with Johanna.

“You ever regret keeping her?” the victor asked. The question took her aback and she frowned at her, wondering where that came from. Her blue eyes shot to the younger woman’s flat stomach but before she could voice her question, Jo scoffed. “I ain’t knocked-up, Trinket. Just… When you came to Four the first time you said you didn’t know if you wanted to keep her.”

“I was not sure I would be any good for her.” she amended. “I wanted to do the right thing.”

“Yeah.” Johanna sighed, making April bounce once or twice to keep her entertained. The move was perfectly calculated. Not too strong, not too weak. Experienced. “Thing is… You had a point. People like us… They shouldn’t have kids. We’re fucked up. Too fucked up. Told Annie in Thirteen. Would have told Finnick too if he hadn’t gone and gotten himself blown up.”

There was still pain in Johanna’s voice when she talked about Finnick, even after all those years. Effie could understand. Too much had been happening after the war for her to grieve properly for everyone. Her own grief had been a big blurred ball of pain and dead friends.

“I would never have been able to give her up.” she said quietly. She didn’t dispute Johanna her point because as disturbingly blunt as she was being, her argument was valid. “At least if I had… I would never have come back from it. I love her too much. It would have destroyed me.”

“Yeah, that’s what Annie claimed.” Johanna shrugged. “And I didn’t get it but I figured I owed Finnick ‘cause… There was nobody else, was there? Haymitch had to take care of Katniss. You were stuck in the city with Peeta. Beetee couldn’t wait to get the hell back to Three. Heavensbee… Fuck knows what he would have done with a victors’ baby… A reality show probably.” She shook her head. “I was the only one left.”

“You are not some default choice, Johanna.” she chided her. “Finnick would have wanted you to look after his family. You know that as well as I do.”

“Maybe.” the victor granted, looking at April instead of looking at her. “But I’ve always thought it would be… At first I thought I’d stay until the baby was born. Then, Finn was there and Annie was in too deep so I stuck around but I told myself it’d just be until the boy could take care of himself well enough and now…”

Johanna hadn’t sounded so frenzied in a long time. Not since the war. Not since she had appropriated the visitor chair in her hospital room. It might explain the drinking Katniss claimed was overboard, Effie mused.

“Now you do not want to leave anymore.” she observed quietly because it didn’t seem like Jo would be able to say it by herself.

“Kids die.” Johanna said bluntly, cradling April closer to her chest as if by reflex. It was odd and touching to see, the total contradiction between the harshness in the victor’s voice and the gentleness of her touch. Jo had been taking care of Finn for three years and it showed.

“Not ours.” she countered firmly.

It didn’t seem to calm Seven’s victor anxiety and Effie was a little bit relieved when she crossed the distance between them to hand April over. She felt better once her daughter was in her own arms even if that meant Johanna was now pacing the length of the room, making her even dizzier than she already was.

“I wasn’t gonna come back from Seven.” Jo announced – and Effie realized it wasn’t exactly a big surprise. “Once I was there, I was gonna call Annie and tell her I wasn’t coming back. I did call but before I could say anything, she handed the phone to Finn and…” Johanna’s voice faltered and she buried her hands in her hair, pulling at the short brown strands. “He asked when I was coming home.”

“He misses you.” she pointed out. “You are as much his mother as Annie is.”

She wasn’t sure anyone had ever put it that bluntly for her before because Jo suddenly froze and turned to her, anger and uncertainty battling on her face. “How is that fair?”

She frowned, confused. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“He marries her, dies and leaves me to raise his kid.” Jo sneered. “How is that fair, Trinket?”

She pursed her lips, feeling a pang of pain at the memory of Finnick’s cocky grin. He had been so young when he had died. So young… And he would have been an amazing father, she knew that without a doubt.

“I don’t think any of it is fair.” she sighed. “But I fail to see where the problem is, Johanna… Finn loves you, you love the boy, you and Annie get along well… Are you so unhappy in Four that being alone in Seven would be better?”

Johanna stared at her hard for the longest time. Then, she crossed her arms and walked to the window, looking out as if the street below held all the answers. Effie had to strain her neck to keep her in her line of sight but it seemed to be Johanna’s aim. Whatever she had to say, she didn’t want the weight of Effie’s gaze while she said it.

If she said it.

Johanna Mason had only confided in one person as far as Effie knew and that person had been long dead. They were all friends, family even. That was the term they used. But she was well aware that some were closer than others and that, in that unit, Jo had always been a little apart, a little alone. Seven’s victor was a loner, it was who she was and they respected that but… It wasn’t good to keep everything bottled up inside like she did.

Effie knew for certain she had never searched for professional help after the war, that she hadn’t talked to anyone about what had happened in those cells… Talking about it with Haymitch was always painful and it was never casual but it always somehow helped to put words on it, her own words, her own narrative. It helped to appropriate what had happened with sentences, to take some control over it. Effie couldn’t help but wish Jo could find someone that would help her the same way Haymitch did for her.

She thought it was about that.

What else could it be about?

It was the main reason Effie had been reluctant about keeping April and hadn’t Jo brought that up? Wasn’t she afraid of the same thing for Finn? After all, Johanna helped raise him but Annie was his mother, Jo was just the Aunt who lived with them, she didn’t have the same degree of responsibility. She was, for all intents and purposes, the boy’s second mother but she could have run if she had so chosen, she had no real obligation to stay. And she might feel it would have been safer if she didn’t. It must have been about that. The cell or her time in the arena, her instability…

If asked, Effie would never have pretended Johanna Mason was the best candidate to raise a child.

“She doesn’t know.” the victor said, so low she almost didn’t catch it over the noises April was making around her pacifier.

“Annie?” Effie clarified. “What doesn’t she know?” Johanna’s jaw clenched. Her body was tense, ready to snap. And it dawned on Effie. “Oh, darling… Did you fall in love with her?”

She wasn’t certain how that was going to work. As far as she knew, Annie was pretty much Finnick-oriented and…

“What?” Johanna scoffed. “No! What even…” Seven’s victor rolled her eyes, turning to face her – to better glare no doubt. “Capitols. Always have to see the wrong in everything. So what? ‘Cause we live together, you think I wouldn’t mind tapping that tree? You’re really…”

“Alright, alright. I understand.” Effie huffed, vexed. Perhaps she was letting the romantic in her speak and so what? “Then, pray tell, what doesn’t Annie know that would be so terrible?” Shame flashed on Johanna’s face, quickly followed by pain. “Oh.” She didn’t want to jump to conclusions this time around but… “Oh. When?”

For a moment, Effie wasn’t sure she would answer at all. Gone was the defiant aggressive victor, Johanna looked… She looked like she had in the privacy of their cell. Weak. Defeated. The arms she had crossed in front of her chest were less a commanding posture now, she was almost hugging herself.

“He loved her.” Johanna said quickly. “He always loved her. She was the one, you know. Greatest love. The whole fucking fairy tale thing.” It seemed important to her for that to be acknowledged so Effie nodded once. Jo turned to face the window once again. “Love is weird.”

“That, I won’t dispute.” Effie chuckled, a bit sadly.

“In the city… It was another world.” Jo snapped, a bit defensively. “You know how it was, you remember. Haymitch fucked you. It wasn’t as bad as that. Haymitch fucked you so…”

“Language.” she chided by reflex, glancing at April. “And I fail to see how…”

“So what if it happened a few times…” Johanna continued, apparently not having even heard her. “It was in the city and it doesn’t count. He only loved her. I was just…” She shrugged. “Stuff happens.”

Effie realized she wasn’t as surprised by the news Finnick and Johanna had slept together as she probably ought to have been. They had always been close. And Jo… Well… Effie should have figured it out sooner probably but with Annie in the picture, she hadn’t thought Four’s victor would…

“I am not judging.” she promised.

Johanna was right.

The city had been another world, the Games… The Games had distorted everything, had made everything ugly. It was human to have sought some solace in the middle of them. And she was certainly no one to tell Johanna what had been right or wrong. How many boyfriends had she cheated on with Haymitch?

The Games had been a very ugly bubble in the year where very bad things happened and not only in the arena.

“Annie doesn’t know.” Jo insisted. “Nobody knows.” The victor spared her a glare. “You don’t tell her or I’m gonna make sure you won’t tell anyone anything ever again.”

“Please.” Effie scowled. “Give me some credit.” She studied the victor, fingers drumming on her daughter’s back as she hesitated. She couldn’t not ask in the end. “Did you love him?”

“Love is weird.” was the immediate and only answer she got. Johanna took a deep breath and rubbed her arms, clearly unsettled. “Do I tell her?”

“Do you think you should?” she countered gently. “The way I see it… Perhaps some things are better left unsaid.”

Annie was fragile and easily unbalanced. What good would it do her to know her best friend had been having an affair with her dead husband long before they even got married? Honesty was often the best policy but in this case… In this case she wasn’t sure. It seemed a bit selfish for Johanna to unburden herself to the price of Annie’s hard earned peace of mind.

“Yeah.” Jo sighed. “That’s what I thought too. Just… Sometimes…”

“It becomes too much.” she supplied knowingly.

“It’s just not fair.” the victor sulked. “He should still be here. I’m the one who should be…”

“No.” Effie cut her off. “Only madness lies that way, trust me.” April started crying and no amount of rocking would soothe her. “She is hungry.” she explained apologetically.

Johanna waved her hand and they made their way down to the kitchen without further ado. Since she didn’t protest, Effie handed her daughter back to Jo while she got the bottle ready only to grab her back to feed her. She was still peculiar about who she allowed to do that.

Johanna was still looking in the distance and, when Effie eventually placed the empty bottle down, the victor blinked.

“She was the love of his life.” the younger woman repeated blankly.

“It doesn’t mean he couldn’t be the love of yours.” she commented wisely, squeezing her shoulder.

Johanna shrugged it off and stood up to rummage through the cupboards like a very ill-mannered person. Effie let her do as she pleased, only requiring she prepared enough for two when it became obvious Seven’s victor was making herself some tea.

She watched her eat through her stock of chocolate chip cookies, orienting the conversation on her travels instead of pushing the issue.

It was a difficult piece of information to swallow though, she mused much later, once they had all had dinner together and Johanna had retreated to Katniss’ house – where there was an actual spare bedroom. The house felt empty suddenly, without the children’s voice calling each other, laughing or simply talking loud…

She was tired and grateful that Haymitch had volunteered to take care of April. When he eventually walked back into the living-room, he looked a little worse for the wear too. She was sitting in the corner of the L shaped couch, Snowball sprawled on one side of her with his head on her lap – eager to earn her forgiveness for the earlier theft – and Haymitch wasted no time in dropping on her other side, cushioning his own head on her thigh.

“Competing for my attention, are you, boys?” she teased, a little distracted.

She stopped petting Snowball to comb her fingers through Haymitch’s hair – which the dog took offense at and nudged her hand, which was how she ended up with both hands busy.

“I’m fucking dead on my feet.” he muttered. “Always the same thing with that boy… He gets me to the bakery for one thing, then we end up moving furniture and what not…”

“It keeps you in shape.” she teased.

He grumbled something under her breath she didn’t catch. It was probably for the best anyway.

“How’s the jellyfish?” he asked, perking up a little. He reached out blindly with his hand but there was no easy way for him to access her stomach behind his head and he gave up quickly enough.

“Still making me eager for the morning sickness nonsense to be over.” she sighed. And then she pouted. “Johanna ate all my cookies.”

He snorted. “Ask Peeta for more.”

Her pout deepened. “He will get suspicious.”

“I’ll go to the store tomorrow.” he surrendered without much fight. That was the one good thing about being pregnant, Haymitch was much more likely to do what she wanted. “We need more diapers anyway.”

“We are low on apricot jam.” she hummed, tugging a little on his hair.

“I’ll stop by Sae’s and ask her for more.” he mumbled. “The kids talked.”

“Did they make up?” she asked eagerly.

“Can’t say.” he shrugged. “Peeta had me moving stuff by then. Couldn’t hear. They’re on talking terms… Beyond that…”

“We will see, I suppose.” she sighed, hoping they would all soon get past this and go back to how it used to be. She relaxed further against the back of the couch, completely exhausted. “Haymitch?”

“Yeah?” His voice was rough and she figured if they didn’t go to bed soon they would fall asleep right there.

“I swear I will murder you if you ever let this slip but…” she hesitated. “Did you know Finnick and Johanna…”

He briefly tensed and then relaxed. “Didn’t know for sure but… Chaff and I had our idea. She told you?”

“She feels guilty because of Annie, I think.” she whispered. “I told her not to say anything but I am not sure it was the best advice.”

He reached for the hand that had stilled in his hair and brought it to his lips. The familiar itch of his stubble on her skin was welcomed. “It’s the right call. It was a long time ago anyway. What’s the point of bringing it up now? Let sleeping dogs lie, yeah?”

“I feel sorry for her.” she admitted quietly. “She’s always been so lonely… She takes care of Annie and Finn but… Who is taking care of her?”

Haymitch mulled that over for a second and then sighed. “That’s your way of saying we need to pay more attention to her, yeah?”

“She is one of ours too.” she reminded him. “We lost Finnick but… She is still here.”

He kissed her hand again. “I hate it when you make so much sense, sweetheart.”

[ellanainthetardis]

Hey there! Sorry for the delay, I was running everywhere yesterday! Okaaaay so, are you reaaaady ? Let me know your thoughts!

[FF] or [AO3]

23. Twenty-eight Weeks

It was uncanny how the woods hadn’t changed.

When they had first come back to Twelve, everything had been in ruins and Haymitch hadn’t been able to breathe properly. He remembered feeling stunned and almost shocked that Katniss could walk among the rubble without flinching every two steps – although Katniss had been back twice before that when he had carefully avoided looking at any picture of the destroyed District. He remembered thinking he had been sentenced to hell once more and thus he had locked himself again in that tomb of a house, devoid of any hope for a better life.

He had had plenty of hopes before the end of Katniss’ trial, before her mother had run and they had been short of a guardian, before he had stood up and volunteered because he was the only one of the three of them who hadn’t yet. He had been thinking about moving somewhere else, somewhere new, where new beginnings would have been possible. Wherever Effie wanted, really, because at that point he had stopped deluding himself into thinking he didn’t want her to feature in his life. Wherever the kids would have liked because there was no way he would have left them behind.

Twelve…

Twelve had never been on the table for him.

However, after the few first horrendous weeks, after the first couple of months… Twelve had risen from its ashes, the same in many ways but different in enough of others that Haymitch had finally felt comfortable venturing. The District was completely different from before, now. More modern despite what Effie’s mother had to say about it, crammed with shops nobody needed, no longer the poorest in Panem or, at least, not so visibly that people were starving in the streets…

It was actually a nice place to live nowadays and, sometimes, not often but sometimes, he even forgot that it hadn’t always been that way. It looked like that somewhere else he had vaguely let himself dream about, somewhere new.

But the woods were exactly the same as in his youth, untouched by the war and the Capitol’s chemical fire, and the more he roamed them, the more difficult it became to leave the past behind. And yet he came back every day under the pretence of walking the dog who quite enjoyed the trek, running around and barking, exhausting himself enough that he wouldn’t be restless in the house…

Haymitch had been returning to the woods every morning for close to a week and he stuck to them most of the day, simply walking around at random – or seemingly at random because there was the clearing where he used to meet Mabel, there was the lake where he and his friends swam in, here and there were his favorite spots for snares, and finally where the forest met the old mine, there was where the electrical fence used to stand and where they used to sneak out…

He didn’t know what he was trying to achieve by revisiting those memories every day because they hurt, each and every one of them. He had long buried the torch he had carried for his girlfriend, accepted that although he had clung to the idea of a lifelong love as much as he could, he had only been sixteen and chances were things would have been very different in the long run. He would forever feel guilty about her death because it had been senseless and his fault, his love for her alone had been a death sentence. Thinking about Mabel still hurt because of the pointlessness of it all. Thinking about the friends he used to spend his days with also hurt because, aside from Hazelle, most of them were dead. Thinking about his brother…

He whistled because Snowball had disappeared between two dead bushes five minutes earlier and he couldn’t see the puppy anymore. He was hard to spot in the snow that still covered the ground. The weather wasn’t so bad for early February, he was ready to bet there would be more snow coming down but, for now, the thick coat had finally thinned and they had cleared the roads enough that Effie could reach the town if she was motivated enough to attempt the walk.

She was starting to waddle – not that he would tell her that. Or anything, lately.

He hadn’t visited the town in a week, not since he had found her in the attic, rummaging in boxes that should have remained closed. The bar was a little too attractive. He had taken the piss that night, when she had asked if he had drunk, but the truth of the matter was: he had gone in and by the force of habits had ordered a glass of whiskey.

He had stared at that glass for hours.

It had been untouched when he had stood up and left.

He didn’t feel particularly proud about it, not when the thirst was stronger than ever. He had finished the treatment Larcher had prescribed him so perhaps it was the reason why… Perhaps without the help of the pills he had dutifully been swallowing for the last couple of months he wasn’t strong enough not to yearn for alcohol at every waking moment. Or perhaps it was what lurked in the attic that had him drifting…

Effie had gone back up.

She had done it when he hadn’t been home but he knew. He could tell. He could always tell when she was plotting something.

He reached the lake and sat down on a mostly snow-free boulder, watching the glimmering ice without truly seeing it. Snowball brought him a big heavy stick and they played tug, then fetch. The puppy was having a grand time. Haymitch was distracted.

He wasn’t exactly surprised to see Katniss emerge from between two trees after a while. There wasn’t much game to catch those days, although she always managed a few squirrels, but she needed the daily moments of solitude almost as much as he craved them lately.

“Looking for me?” he asked because that had happened a few times over the last week. Katniss tracking him down in the woods or Peeta making sure he wasn’t dropping drunk dead somewhere… Effie had been very good at not pushing his boundaries and respecting the fact he wanted space – then again, she had always been good at knowing when to insist and when to retreat with him – but the kids didn’t get it.

The girl’s mouth was set in a serious line as she came closer, barely stopping to awkwardly pat the dog on the head – she wasn’t fond of Snowball, he reminded her too much of the mutts that had appeared at the end of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games – and he knew she was done humoring him.

Hell, he had lasted eight days without anyone trying to pressure him, it was more than he had thought he would have.

“What’s going on with you and Effie?” she asked, never one to choose diplomacy over efficiency.

“None of your business.” he spat.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. He tried not to notice she was wearing the green scarf Effie had knitted for her… “You’re not going to bolt, are you? Because too late, Haymitch. You made your choice. You told her you wanted the kid, you don’t get to change your mind now. I won’t let you. Parents should always stick with their children.”

Her little speech started firm but ended up pained and he sighed, rubbing his eyes, wondering why he always had to make a mess of everything. “I did a lot of shit, sweetheart, but I always stuck with you and the boy. Don’t drop other people’s mistakes on me. That’s not fair.”

“We’re not talking about me.” Katniss argued, harshly enough that Snowball let out a small warning growl.

Haymitch tossed the stick if only to keep the overprotective puppy occupied.

“Aren’t we always?” he snorted.

“You’re being an ass.” she snapped. “You’ve been an ass for a week. To me, to Peeta and to Effie. She’s carrying your kid. It means nothing to you?”

You knew things were bad when Katniss Everdeen took the champion’s mantle for Effie Trinket…

“I want a drink.” he admitted. “Badly.”

That shut her up, at least.

Katniss hesitated and then joined him on the boulder, not offering any of the platitudes someone else would have. Reassurances, encouragements… The girl didn’t know how to do that so she simply sat  there, her side pressed against his in a not so subtle reminder that she was there, and she watched him play with his dog, lost in her own thoughts.

They remained like that for the longest time.

He was relieved not to have to explain himself. Peeta had been probing the issue without really voicing his concerns. Katniss understood him in ways the boys didn’t though, which was why he found himself talking in the end.

“I’ve got stuff in my attic.” he said, at last. And wasn’t that just the best metaphor. “Stuff from… before. I used to cram boxes up there every year when the Games were still on. I never even really went up all the way, I just pushed the boxes up there and forgot about them.”

“What’s in the boxes?” Katniss frowned.  

“Leftover clothes from the season that were too fancy to wear around Twelve.” he shrugged. “Some pictures, I guess… A few magazines… Any reminder, really…”

He didn’t even know why he had kept all the stuff in the first place instead of just dumping it in the bin. He had stocked the clothes because there had never been enough of them in his youth and it seemed almost criminal to him to toss perfectly good fabric away when people were dying of exposure in the Seam – he would never have been able to just give them away, the Capitol would have frown on that but just dumping them in the trash had been out of the question, just like wasting food would have been. There had been less items he truly didn’t want after Effie had come on board anyway. She had a knack to dress him the way he liked and the boxes from her years mostly contained suits and mementoes.

Those were the things he had never quite been able to explain to himself. There were a few promo pictures from Twelve’s team, stuff he had been given and had usually buried at the bottom of his luggage, out of sight out of mind, until he had found them while unpacking. He had burn them in the beginning but with the years… Photoshoots had never been something he enjoyed but Effie had made it fun, some of those were actually good. There were more genuine pictures too… Of him with the other victors, either at Games events or in the privacy of one of their apartment in the Center… Of him with Effie… He was sure there was a stack of Polaroid somewhere on which she wasn’t wearing much if anything at all…

The people on those pictures, they had been having a good time. It was usually why you took pictures, to remember the good times. And every time he had come back to Twelve, to the overwhelming misery, to the reality of two more dead kids he somehow always managed to push at the back of his mind with booze, women or friendly company while in the Capitol… He had felt ashamed. So the pictures had ended up in the boxes. Out of sight.

“Okay.” Katniss nodded as if it made sense. And, to her, it probably did.

“There’s stuff from my old house too.” He rushed the words out, as if he was tearing off a particularly resistant band-aid. “Effie found that.”

“And you’re mad because she looked at it?” she asked in a knowing voice. He remembered the stuff she had been carrying everywhere from Twelve to Thirteen to the Capitol and back. The picture of her father, his jacket, the pearl Peeta had given her, the pin… She understood clinging to things like talismans.

Peeta had kept nothing from before.

Effie had lost almost all her belongings but she was the kind who dutifully kept everything from a movie ticket to beads he had won at a poker game and had tossed at her just to shut her up. She was a collector. Everything and nothing, every little thing.

Haymitch didn’t consider himself to be a nostalgic person but he still wore the battered golden bangle despite the weird looks people had tossed him at first. The bangle was his token. It had been a reminder during those months in Thirteen that she was out there, somewhere, and he needed to find her. Wearing it had been a promise to himself.

Some objects were more precious than others.

Others though…

“I forgot it was there.” he said and it was the crux of the matter, really.

He had forgotten. He had thought he had put his family to rest. He had bought geese because it had been Hayden’s dream to have a farm. He had planted irises for her mother, to remember her by because the graveyard was gone, destroyed in the bombings. He had find stability with the kids, had opened his door to Effie, had settled in this new family unit and, later, had even felt confident they could add a baby to the mix with relative safety.

He had thought the grieving process was finally over. And then he had climbed up to the attic in search of her, grumbling under his breath about ladders and potential accidents, only to be confronted with a past he had completely forgotten he had stashed there.

“I miss Prim.” Katniss confessed after a long moment of silence. “Every day, I miss her. It’s never going to go away.”

“No.” he confirmed. Because he still missed them. Hayden, his mother… His girl too. Chaff, Finnick, Mags… The list went on and on…

“But sometimes I forget.” she whispered, looking down at her feet. “Sometimes I’m happy and I forget I miss her. It makes me feel terrible but then I realize… She wouldn’t want me to be miserable so… I think it’s okay if I forget from time to time. Doctor Aurelius says it doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving her, that it doesn’t mean I will forget her for good.” She shrugged and grabbed his hand, squeezing once before letting go. “I don’t think it means you forgot them for good, Haymitch. It doesn’t mean you’re replacing them.”

Hadn’t he, though? Replaced his dead family with a brand new breathing one?

He snorted and shook his head. His mother would have whacked him at the back of the skull so hard for even thinking that way…

“It’s the only thing that matters.” he mumbled awkwardly. “Family.”

“Yeah.” she agreed without any embarrassment. “You should never turn your back on them, never give up on them, never leave…”

“I ain’t going to leave my kid.” he growled. He wasn’t his father. He wouldn’t just abandon them and run away because he was too much of a coward to face his life, no matter how difficult. “Any of my kids.”

“I know.” she said, matter of fact. “I trust you to never leave. You’re the only one who never did.”

“Sweetheart…” Her mother’s defection still hurt her and their contacts were seriously limited to a phone call every six months as far as he knew. She hadn’t forgiven her and, to be honest, neither had he nor Effie. He wasn’t sure what to answer to that so he threw caution to the wind and simply hugged her. They didn’t do that often and it was always special.

She hugged back for dear life and he heard a suspicious sniff but when she talked her voice was steady. “You’re a great dad, Haymitch. You’ll be fine.” She drew back and punched his shoulder. “But you should stop acting like a jerk and go home now. And tell her about the drinking thing… It’s Effie, she’ll get it. Maybe she can help distract you or… whatever.”

Distract him would involve fewer clothes and a lot less pregnant stomach but he didn’t think Katniss meant it in that sense anyway.

“Yeah.” he sighed. He supposed he had brooded enough. He had been in and out of the house for days now, barely talking to her at all… It wasn’t fair on her.

They walked back to the Village together, mostly in silence, both of them dealing with their own ghosts.

She spotted the car first. It was hard to miss, neatly parked in front of his house as it was. “Why’s the doctor here?”

Haymitch’s blood ran cold and he rushed inside, dashed straight to the living-room where she was lying on her side on the couch, awfully pale, with Peeta perched on the armrest behind her head and Larcher packing up his medical bag. Everyone looked at him but he only looked at her, wide eyes, heart hammering in his chest.

“I am fine.” she said immediately. “It was nothing. Peeta was just overcautious.”

“You fainted.” the boy protested, almost accusatory.

“I didn’t faint, I was simply dizzy.” she argued.

“It was just some hypoglycemia.” Larcher confirmed. “Nothing a hot chocolate didn’t fix. Now, Effie, try to take it easy today.”

“It won’t be difficult, I am exhausted.” she grumbled.

And for the first time in days, Haymitch noticed the dark bags under her eyes. He knew she hadn’t been sleeping well because on the rare nights he had consented to go to bed with her she had tossed and turned for hours. But sleep had evaded him as well since the attic and he had spent most nights in the living-room, trying to focus on a book or staring at the fire to resist the temptation of getting wasted enough to close his eyes without having nightmares.

He waited until Larcher was gone to kneel next to the couch, barely noticing Katniss gesturing at Peeta to come with her – and away from the house, he assumed. He pressed a kiss on her stomach first and on her lips next.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled.

He expected some anger because it was Effie – and if Effie was forgiving she also liked to make him grovel for it – but she simply looked relieved.

“You should not have shut me out.” she chided him gently but without heat, cupping his cheek, her thumb running on his bottom lip.

“I know.” he admitted, pressing a kiss against the pad of her thumb. “I just… It got too much.”

He sat down with a sigh and let his head fall on the couch, in the curve between her breasts and her belly.

“Do you mean us?” she asked uncertainly, her hand falling on his shoulder.

He entwined their fingers. “Never us, Princess.”

They were too much. Had always been too much. Together, they were like an inferno and it sometimes felt like more than he could handle. But it had been years since he had thought they were a bad idea. They were complicated. But he had told her once and he still meant it: good things sometimes came out of complicated.

“You have been struggling.” she pointed out cautiously, clearly afraid he would get mad again. He had no energy left in him to get mad. “With the drinking.”

“Yeah.” he admitted, his voice more fragile than he would have liked. “Haven’t touched booze though. I won’t.” That promise was fierce, it was directed not to only to himself but to her and to their baby. “Don’t worry.”

“Of course, I worry.” she sighed. “But I do not worry about the drinking, I worry about you. Haymitch, I am…”

“Don’t say you’re sorry again.” he cut her off. “Wasn’t your fault. This is your fucking house, there’s no out of bounds room. I was just…” He let that sentence trail off. Staring at the ceiling instead of looking at her. “Just… One moment we were there, getting ready for the shrimp and everything was… Good… And the next… I forgot all that stuff was up there.. The furniture… The ashes… I forgot. And then it hit me that… I can picture what our kid will look like, I can picture him so fucking well, sweetheart… Down to the dimples… But my mom and my baby brother… I can’t remember their faces, their features…”

He felt her fingers slowly running in his hair and he closed his eyes, letting the familiar gut wrenching sorrow wash over him. He clenched his jaw and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“You do not have any picture?” she asked softly.

He shook his head once in denial. “The only one burned. I’ve been trying… I’ve been trying so fucking hard to remember…”

His voice broke and he bit down on the inside of his cheek, keeping himself together by sheer force of will only.

“Oh, my darling…. It is alright…” she breathed out, wriggling on the couch to push herself up.

He wanted to tell her not to move because she needed to rest but then she awkwardly hugged his shoulders from behind. Her stomach was in the way and she grew frustrated enough that she pulled on his arm until he consented to haul himself off the floor to sit with her. Then she draped herself over him, crawling on his lap, because, pregnant or not, hugging was her favorite form of comforting.

A part of him bristled at this open show of weakness, another part simply marveled he could be so open with anyone after everything. But it was Effie. And Effie had been with him for almost sixteen years. She had seen the good and the bad. She had been there for most of it.

They were intimately acquainted with each other’s demons.

“You’re heavy.” he complained for the sake of it.

She laughed but there were tears in her eyes that she hastily blinked away. She kissed his cheek and then his mouth, a peck that was far from innocent and that went a long way in making him feel better. His first instinct when he was hurt was always to seek a lonely place but it was always her touch that ended up soothing him.

“We will take thousands of pictures.” she declared, resting her forehead against his. “We will record every moment for him, for when he is older.”

He nodded his assent, his hands gently rubbing her back. “You’ve been cleaning up there.”

He felt her hesitation but she didn’t try to lie.

“I sorted the boxes that did not seem to have sentimental value.” she explained. “There is no use keeping clothes that we could give to some charities… I made bags if you want to go through them.”

“No, it’s fine.” he shrugged. “They were up there ‘cause I didn’t want them.” He took a deep breath. “I should probably get rid of the rest…”

“It is a big attic.” she argued. “There is no need for hasty decisions.”

“It’s nothing but junk.” he scoffed.

“It is all you have left.” she whispered. “It is alright to want to keep it. It does not even take that much room… Leave it there. Who knows… Perhaps you will want to show it to our son someday…”

“Nice depressing talks you see us having.” he chuckled bitterly, but her offer was more than tempting and thus he dropped the matter, tugging a little on her low ponytail. “How come you were dizzy? You skipped breakfast?”

“Nothing appealed to me so I simply had a toast.” she pouted. “I really wanted scrambled eggs but we didn’t have any in the fridge and I was not sure I could manage without burning the whole house anyway so it did not seem worth it to brave your birds.”

“We don’t have eggs ‘cause you’ve been puking at the sight of them for months.” he mocked. She pouted deeper and he snorted. “You still want scrambled eggs?”

She flashed him a beaming smile and he shook his head at those weird cravings of hers. He was mostly grateful it had hit her late because he wasn’t sure he could have taken nine of months of requesting strange food at every hour of the day.

“Do we have bacon?” she asked hopefully.

“Think so.” he shrugged, nudging her off his lap – with some relief because she really was heavy. “Lie down for a bit, yeah?”

“If that was that easy.” she huffed. “I haven’t been able to find a comfortable position in days. I am too big!”

“You’re beautiful.” he countered automatically.

She tossed him a dark knowing look that he chose to ignore in favor of getting her food ready. He made two plates, figuring they might as well have an early lunch. She was lying on her side again when he came back, propped on pillows, Snowball spread over her feet, and she was still pouting.

“I cannot take two more months of this.” she told him. “My back aches, my ankles are swollen and I cannot for the life of me get comfortable… My clothes are too tight again. Those pregnancy pants are supposed to be stretchy. Why are they not stretchy? I would get naked if it wasn’t so cold.” A naked Effie was never a bad thing and he smirked but, clearly, it wasn’t the right reaction. “Oh, do not get any idea… I am too big for that.”

“Never back down from a challenge, sweetheart.” he teased, handing her a plate. “Here, get some food into you.”

She sat up to grab it, disturbing the puppy who grumbled but hopped down to the safety of his own bed where nobody would annoy him, and she eagerly planted her fork in the eggs. She brought it to her lips and immediately dropped it without even placing it in her mouth.

He watched as she turned green and he snatched the plate back, hurrying to dispose of the eggs. He came back with more crispy bacon and some warmed up fish leftover they had had for dinner the previous night.

“I like eggs.” she whined, accepting the new plate.

“I know.” he sighed.

“Your shrimp is a pain.” she hissed, ignoring the fish to pounce on the bacon.

“Our shrimp.” he corrected, tossing a piece of bacon to Snowball who was suddenly less interested in sleeping. “But, yeah. Probably.”

With the two of them as his parents…

What else was she expecting?

[allonsysilvertongue]

The Elusive Miss Trinket

Haymitch Abernathy was pulled out of his self-imposed retirement by the Trinkets with a request of utmost urgency. [Hayffie AU]

The Elusive Miss Trinket: Chapter 11

Crossing the living room out into the porch, the sudden gloom that encased the room was the first thing Haymitch noticed. He saw the tail end of her braid swished out sight from the corner of his eyes and he followed her in that direction.

 Katniss was loading her belongings on to the back of Peeta’s truck. Her mouth was set in a line, her face grim. Sensing his presence, Prim glanced once behind her shoulder at him, her features sad and crestfallen. At the look Katniss shot her, she climbed into the passenger seat without a word to him.

 “Katniss,” he pleaded, almost helplessly. “Don’t do this.”

 It fell on deaf ears. Peeta turned the key and the engine rumbled into life.

 “Peeta,” Haymitch called out.

 “I’m sorry,” he dropped his head in regret and drove off, leaving Haymitch standing and staring until the truck disappeared from view.

 When he eventually entered his house some time later, the gloom gave way to horror. It was filled with the faces of forty-six children whose death he blamed himself for. He stumbled back in surprise and clutched the door for support. This was the reason the kids left because if it was up to him, he would not want to stay in a house filled with ghost.

 An ominous whisper broke over the collective, unintelligible murmur in the room. “You could have saved us. You could have stopped it.”

 “I can’t,” he choked out a strangled admission.

 They surged forward towards him, their hands outstretched as if to strangle the life out of him and that was when Haymitch woke up with a start.

 The sheet was tangled around his feet. A trail of perspiration was running down his chest despite the cooling draft from the air-conditioner. Haymitch felt under the pillow for the knife and he held it in the palm of his hand, finding the weight of it familiar and reassuring.

 His nightmares often started and ended the same way; with the three kids leaving him and him finding himself trapped with ghosts of his past.

 His breathing was still heavy and ragged when he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Haymitch screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. His past often clawed back at him unexpectedly and often at stressful triggers which he tried to avoid by drowning himself at the bottom of a bottle.

 The years before were as vivid as if it was only yesterday. He had been on a mission and was gathering intel for the agency when it all went wrong. The information given to his superior officers led to an operation that caused the death of civilians and among those were forty-six children. It was the children that haunted him most.

 The tragedy then triggered a massive investigation which was only concluded last year and the report… Well, it would be made public soon.

 There were long late nights talk with Chaff about this and somewhere along the line they both felt that they deserved it. He would have accepted it even except now, things were different. Now, there was Katniss, Peeta and Prim and he couldn’t stand to bear their disgust and judgment once the truth came to light. He wanted to matter to them and he wanted to be a part of their lives.

 Making his way to the bathroom, Haymitch washed his face with cold water. He stared at the mirror, thinking of ways to salvage the situation with Effie because that was the only way he could save himself with the three kids.

 Once he was dressed, he checked his phone to see if there were any messages from Stefan Trinket about his daughter. Since she left, she could have contacted her father to give him a piece of her mind for all he knew but since there were no messages from the old man, he assumed that Effie had kept it to herself.

 He decided to give her a few days to allow her time to cool down, logically deducing that she might not even want to meet him.

 Even so, he did keep his eyes on her whereabouts through the tracker. She spent her days at the boutique and some nights at Clarke Quay where he knew there was an abundant of nightlife activities to indulge in at the various bars, clubs and restaurants. On the fifth day, her tracker went off the radar.

 It spurred him into action and he went down to her boutique.

 “Miss Trinket is at Bangkok. She’ll be back in two days. Shall I book an appointment for you?”

 That would explain it. The tracker went out of range.

 “Vacation?” he asked.

 “She’s on a business meeting with a supplier. Now, about that appointment – “

 He left without a word and two days later, her tracker went back online as she landed at Changi Airport. He breathed a sigh of relief.

 A week was more than enough so that very night Haymitch took a taxi down to Little India. He alighted and glanced around. This place did not suit Effie Trinket’s personality or places of interest and yet, her tracker was pulsing at this very spot on his GPS.

 “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she exclaimed when she caught sight of him approaching. “I thought you left!”

 “Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted amicably. “Long time no see.”

 "I would prefer to keep it that way."

 Haymitch chuckled. She was feisty and he definitely was not expecting this to go smoothly without a fight on her part.

 "Where are you headed? I don't mind joining."

 She huffed in disbelief at his audacity.

 “I have had a long day so I am heading home to sleep and rest. You are certainly not invited.”

 “You’ll be surprised in what I'm interested in,” he countered, still maintaining a smile on his face. “Tell me about this long day you had...”

 "I do not think for a second that you are truly interested in my day," she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

 "Just wanted to keep the conversation going," Haymitch answered. He ducked in time just as a pigeon took flight, narrowly missing his head. "Where were you from?"

 "I had an event, a wedding dinner."

 “Did you go on your own? No plus one? You know, if you ever need company...."

 "No, thank you. I assure you I am not in the habit of associating myself with a liar."

 His lips quirked in a smirk and with a slight shake of his head, he said, "I'm not a liar, sweetheart. I just had a job to do. It's out in the open now so why don't you give me a chance to do my job and persuade you that going home might be a good idea?"

 "You will learn that I am not so easily convinced," Effie retorted.

 "And you'll learn that I like a challenge."

 There was something about the annoyed look she threw his way that made him chuckle quietly to himself. They walked next to each other quietly, neither engaging in a conversation. Haymitch took his time watching his surrounding and the people in the area. He took photos of the streets and the sceneries to send it to the group chat that Peeta had created for them. He received a reply almost immediately from Prim with a photo of Lady, the goat - "my view". With a fond smile at Prim's antic, Haymitch pocketed his phone only to see Effie watching him.

 “Explain to me what a private investigator is doing out here, stalking a woman who is not involve in any extra marital affairs or company fraud?” Effie did not break her stride as she talked. “Somehow, persuading me to return home does not seem to be the job of an investigator, is it?”

 “No, it’s not,” he agreed, “but it’s the job of an investigator to investigate and track their mark down.”

 Effie scoffed. “I have been reduced to just a mark.”

 At the main road, he could hear the vehicles passing by but the small road they were walking at was quiet and empty at this time of the night.

 “I haven’t investigated anything in a while. Chaff founded the firm after we left our… organisation,” he explained. “We used to split the job equally – fraud and marital affairs. I wanted to help and proving someone’s spouse cheated on them doesn’t seem like helping to me. Sure, the pay’s good but…” he shrugged. “Chaff went on to do that on his own while our firm was still operating but I started takin’ my own cases. Missing people, mostly.”

 “You said while your firm was operating,” Effie frowned. “Is it not operating now?”

 “It dwindled over the past couple of years. I haven’t had a case in a while either. The last one left a bad taste in my mouth so I just stop. I didn’t want to take your case, sweetheart. Your parents pulled me out of my house and into this.”

 “Nonsense,” she clicked her tongue. “You always have a choice. My parents must have made an offer you couldn’t refuse.”

 “Guess they did.”

“And please,” she turned towards him, “put your drink away. This is a liquor control zone.”

 "What the hell does that mean?"

 Effie pointed to the sign mounted on a pole by the road side. “You are not allowed to drink at any public spaces after 10.30 pm so put that away. You are however still allowed to drink at a licensed premise. Perhaps you would like to take that to a nearest bar?”

 “Nice attempt trying to get rid of me,” he chuckled but the sign was there for him to read. He pocketed his flask.

 She struggled to keep a small smile off her face and Haymitch counted that as a win on his part. With a shake of her head, she continued walking. He fell in step next to her.

 “Why missing people?”

 “Just something ‘bout seeing a family reunited,” he admitted.

 “You are a strange man, Haymitch Abernathy. I never pegged you for the sentimental kind.”

 He shrugged.

 “What happened at your last case?”

 “Uh,” he let out a breath, hesitating.

 She glanced at him. “You are entitled to your secrets. What I said the first time we met is true, isn’t it. You are a very private man.”

  Effie paused to let him refute it but when he did not, she said, “It is late. I really should head home.”

 She hailed a passing taxi.

 “You’re not curious on how I found you here in this city?”

 Effie stilled with one hand on the taxi’s door. For a moment, he entertained the thought that she might change her mind about going home but she surprised him by pulling the door open, sliding into the back seat and then looking over at him.

 “Well, are you coming?”

 XxX

 Her apartment was spacious enough for two occupants. It was clean and spotless, and boasted modern furnishing. One wall was installed with a floor to ceiling window which overlooked the city. On another, there was a decorative mirror and a display stand below it. The photographs in the frame caught his attention and drew him closer.

 Her parents were notably missing from any of the photos. There was one of her with a little boy he presumed to be her nephew.

 “This guy,” he pointed to the kid, “has a photo of you. You send photos to your nephew, yeah? Your father must have taken it from him cause…,” he showed her the photo from his phone. “That’s the Flyer behind you. There’s also a geotag attached to the photo. That’s how your father knew where you are.”

 “Oh,” she blinked. “How foolish of me…. Is there a way to disable that function?”

 Haymitch nodded and was unprepared when she handed her phone to him. He was not the best at technology but he managed somehow after fumbling with the device and looking up the correct settings.

 When he returned the phone to her, she had a glass of iced tea for him.

 “I miss him terribly,” she admitted. “I used to take him out every Sunday and spoiled him silly. Do you miss yours?”

 His brows knitted together as he took a sip from his drink.

 “You told me about a daughter. You said she wasn’t truly yours….” she tried to jog his memories. “You even showed me a picture of them.”

 “Ah, right. Do I miss them?” he snorted.

 “Tell me about them,” she requested. “You said you helped their family during a job…”

 “Iris Everdeen… That’s their mother. She left home after her husband’s death. Don’t think she actually realised she walked off. She was among the first I found,” Haymitch said. “She’s still here and there – there are good days and bad days - so the kids are often coming and going from my house.”

 “They must think of you as their savior. You must mean a lot to them,” she commented.

 Haymitch had nothing to say to that. There were parts of him that he shielded from them. His drinking was already something he was ashamed of and they had seen plenty of him stumbling around drunk for him to dig up more skeletons from his closet.

 They fell quiet again and the silence was enough cause to make Effie uneasy. She glanced at up him as she reached for the television’s remote. The late night news was on and the low volume filled up the quiet pockets in the house.

 “You’re really interested in the news or you’re hinting that I should leave?” he teased.

 “If I wanted you to leave, I would have made it clear. I just think there are more to your story than what you are telling me so I figured you might need the time to collect your thoughts and leave you to it without me staring at you and giving you pressure.”

 Haymitch watched her. If he were in her shoes, he would have a problem trusting him but the fact that she invited him to her apartment … Perhaps all was not lost.

 “How thoughtful,” he praised her in jest.

 “Naturally,” she sighed delicately. “I wish people are just as thoughtful where I am concern as I was to them.”

 “Alright, sweetheart,” he concurred and placed the glass of iced tea back on the coffee table. “I was an asshole and went on about it the wrong way. I know that.”

 “Hmm.”

 “I’m doing this for Prim,” he voiced out, revealing a part of himself to her.

 “I beg your pardon?”

 Haymitch shifted in his seat.

 “She’s a good kid and pretty damn smart, too. She’s got big plans, that one. Mainly, she wants to help and she thinks bringing back her family’s pharmacy would be one way to achieve that,” he said with an affection he reserved only for them. “And I ain’t gonna deny her that. We live in a small town and there aren’t that many opportunities so your father’s supposed to help get a tutor. Get her started with a solid foundation for later.”

 Effie angled her body towards him, leaving her back to the television.

 “Except he’s playing games with me. She’s supposed to have met this tutor a day or so after I left but your father ain’t doing shit until…until he’s happy that I’ve got some progress with you. Last I spoke to him right after I met you, he told me he was going to arrange it but I don’t know if the kid’s met her tutor or not. I haven’t called. I don’t know what to tell if she asks. She’s really excited about it but… You know, she’s sad for you, too,” he muttered the last part quietly.

 A look of surprise passed through her face. “How so?”

 Haymitch exhaled. “She thinks I’m destroying your happiness by getting you home.”

 “She is a smart child,” Effie remarked. “Oh! I supposed I could talk to my sister or my brother. They can arrange for Prim to get what she needs. My parents are not the only one with influence. If she wants,” her voice took on an excited tone, “Prim can attend the school that my nephew is attending! I do believe they provide dormitories for her should she need it and it is an excellent school, Haymitch. Just imagine the two of them being friends!”

 “You’re still tryin’ to out pay your parents,” he chuckled.

 “Yes, because I am not going home,” she told him in all seriousness. “Is that all the deal you strike with my parents?”

 “There are more,” he said simply.

 She waited and when he didn’t continue, she asked, “Your expenses here…?”

 Effie Trinket was smart, he already knew that. She knew when to push and hold back, and right now, she understood not to press him for more but he would be a fool if he believed that she had let the matter go. She would ask again sooner or later, he would bet his house on that.

 “On your father,” he answered and held the credit card between his fingers.

 “Oh! We should go shopping! He wouldn’t know,” Effie grinned with a little twinkle in her eyes. “What an excellent pay back.”

 Haymitch scrunched his brows together at the unexpected suggestion only for him to roll his eyes when it dawned on him that that was the sort of thing Effie Trinket would do.

He told her a little bit more about himself. Will Haymitch let Effie have her little payback? What are your thoughts? Leave a review :)

Little India district is where I am at 5 days a week so, as usual, here are the photos :)

(honestly, the photo won’t rotate properly here even tho it’s in the right position in my laptop). Anyway, those signs are everywhere in little india so haymitch was standing under one of those.

Those are rickshaws in Little India! Back in the old days when Singapore was just a developing country, they used it a lot to get around. Nowadays, only tourists use it.

[allonsysilvertongue]

The Elusive Miss Trinket

The Elusive Miss Trinket: Chapter 8

“You have to take me up there, Haymitch,” she insisted, touching his arm as they stopped just in front of the hotel’s entrance.

 Effie Trinket, he learnt quite quickly, was a tactile person.

 “It’s just a pool, Effs,” he rolled his eyes, not quite understanding her fascination with it.

 She looked at him with an amused smile, her blue eyes glinting from the light’s bright reflection in the hotel lobby.

 “I like that,” she grinned. “No one has used that before. Effs,” she tested it on her tongue. “It is definitely better than sweetheart. But, I digress! It is not just a pool, is it? It is the infinity pool. I have seen photos of it on Beautiful Destinations on Instagram. I do not have the access card to it, but you do! You’re a guest in this hotel.”

 In the end, it was easier to bring her to the highest floor of his hotel where the Infinity Pool was. He presented his guest card to the pool’s roof top reception and was allowed in without a fuss.

 At first glance, it seems as though there was no boundary to the pool that held the water in place. The pool stretched from one end of the roof top to the other.

 “It will be amazing to watch the sunset here,” she remarked. Effie plucked a flute of champagne from a waiter and wandered closer. “I’ve always wanted to see this for myself. I never had a chance.”

 “All you need to do is to book a room here, sweetheart. They’ll allow you up here then. It’s not that difficult.”

 “Up so high, the stars are on our shoulders,” she hummed

 The city sprawled beneath them, the lights from the skyscrapers glittered in the dark and the lights illuminating the roads snaked on and on.

 “Listen, you ain’t going to strip down and get into the pool, are you?”

 Haymitch eyed her sceptically since he doubted that she had any plans to be up here when they crossed paths earlier and would not have any appropriate swim wear on her.

 “Can you honestly say that you would be opposed to that?” she teased, her eyes glittering with mischief.

 There it was again. She was definitely flirting with him, and as much as it pleased him and boosted his ego, he wasn’t sure he liked it. She wasn’t just a woman, she was his mark.

 On any other circumstances, he would probably engage in the banter himself, flirt with her and made her feel comfortable. He would have taken her back to his room and by morning, they would be done but this time, he ignored it.

 “Ready to go?” he asked instead. “Place will be closed in an hour anyway.”

 Haymitch could tell that his behaviour puzzled her.  

 “You are eager to get rid of me,” she huffed, as if insulted. “Tell me, what do you want from me?”

 When he said nothing except to level his gaze with hers, she placed her glass down and assessed him.

 “I kept waiting for you to make a move but you have been honourably distant.”

 He scoffed. Honourable was an inappropriate word to describe him, he felt.

 “Why do you spend your day with me if you’re not trying to take me to bed?”

 That was forward of her but he expected nothing less. Nothing surprised him nowadays and from what he knew of her, she was stubborn and self-assured but it still did not stop him from rounding up on her.

 “What do you take me for?”

 “I’m sorry,” she raised both hands and took a step back to put some distance between them. Her gaze flitted to their surroundings but no one was paying them any attention. "I thought you were like all other men - you’re here looking for some fun while on a business trip. So, it looks like you're not. I just wanted to get that out of the way. At the very least, I figured you would be interested in me.”

 “I’m not like other men,” he scowled.

 “Yes,” she nodded and then admitted the next part with an acerbic laugh at herself. “You are attractive, Haymitch. I will just… I will not apologise for being attracted to you but I do apologise for assuming and putting us in this position. Today was… Don't get me wrong, whether or not you had an ulterior motive, I did have a good time with you”

 He sighed. He was a master at messing things up.

 “You ain’t all that bad. I mean… Look at you, you’re hot, sweetheart,” he told her seriously. “It’s not that I’m not – You’ve only just met me. Let’s not run before we can walk.”

 Effie stared at him as if he had grown two heads.

 “I’m not looking for an attachment,” she frowned. “You are only here for a short while and I am used to my lovers coming and going, sometimes only lasting for a night. I have no desire to risk myself by having a – but oh, that’s inconsequential.”

 Something clicked in him then and he understood it clear as day. Having left home once and then again when Seneca Crane went after, she had learnt not to form personal attachments, especially the romantic kind, just in case she needed to leave. It was easier that way. It was self-preservation and he knew a thing or two about that. In fact, he had not heard her mention any friends that she had made here. Whenever she mentioned someone in passing, which happened once or twice during dinner, it was always an acquaintance she met through her line of work.

 An attachment was not one of her top priorities. She was more interested in spreading her wings and building a name for herself through her shop.

 It was a lonely life, he thought.

 He had been through that once before the kids – that was how he measured his life lately, before the kids and after the kids – and he couldn't imagine life without daily visits to Peeta's bakery or having Katniss walking in and out of his house like she owned it.

 "Why would you tell a man you intend to sleep with and never meet again in the morning 'bout your life?" Haymitch asked, genuinely puzzled. "Don't seem smart."

 She gasped.

 "You made me talk!" Effie sputtered. “You, with your ridiculous, intense grey eyes and your willingness to just listen and … You made me want to share what I have been keeping to myself. This is grossly unfair. You're ridiculous."

 "I'm ridiculous?" he chuckled at the accusation.

 "Do not pretend to be surprised. You are – you are ridiculous. Lulling me into such a state..." She rambled.

 "Hold on right there, sweetheart. You can't turn this around and … my eyes?!" He shook his head. "What am I? Charles Xavier? I didn't make you do anything."

 She waved his words away.

 "I do not see anything wrong with telling you what I went through. It is not that different than sharing information with a therapist, is it?"

 "I'm not a therapist," he stated.

 "Of course, you're not. I am just saying that we can draw parallels from there. A therapist is a stranger, as are you. Besides, everyone have problems with their family. I am not ashamed of my story. In fact," she jutted her chin out a little, "I am rather proud of what I have achieved and accomplished, thank you very much."

 Her confidence was alluring. It was sexy and couple that with the offer she just made... Haymitch took a deep breath to strengthen his resolve.

 I will not sleep with her, he vowed.

 "What you just did there..." he gestured, half-distracted, "that is very sexy."

 She stared and blinked, and then a slow, satisfied smile bloomed on her face.

 "Shit," he cursed, "I fucking said that out loud, didn't I?"

 "Yes."

 "Sweetheart," he sighed. "I can't. I have an early day tomorrow and - "

 He fell silent. He could almost hear Chaff's voice in his head – 'that's a fucking lame excuse, buddy.'

 "This is just embarrassing for both of us," Effie shook her head slightly. "I've made a fool of myself with you and … Please accept my apologies for putting us in this position."

 "You... don't have to apologise for something that you want," he muttered as if that would make the situation better.

 He plunged his hand into the pocket of his jacket, feeling the familiar flask against his palm.

 Effie held herself remarkably well with her chins up and plastered a bright smile on her face. She stepped forward, breaching his personal space and kissed his cheek lightly.

 "I meant what I said. I really did have a good time," she told him. "It was nice meeting you and thank you for bringing me up here. I can, at least, cross infinity pool out of my list."

 Haymitch grabbed her elbow and held her in place. His action made her tilt her head in puzzlement. They were standing so close that he could smell the champagne on her breath and feel the warmth from her body.

 He turned this scenario in his mind. Sleeping with her would complicate things but yet, he couldn't let her leave, not after finding her.

 "Do you have anything else on this list of yours?"

 She wasn't stupid enough to fall for that but she also never noticed that he had slipped a small, round device he had bought previously from Sim Lim Square into her open handbag. He would never lose track of her now, provided she bring the same bag all the time.

 In their proximity, her voice was soft and quiet when she spoke next, but it still weighed heavily on him.

 "You need to make up your mind."

 She was leaving it up to him and he wanted this. He wanted to run his hand over her soft skin. He wanted to taste the champagne on her lips. He made the mistake of lowering his gaze to the small space between them, down the v-shaped of her dress and his breath hitched at the sight of her cleavage.

 Perhaps somewhere out there, someone had a stronger resolve than him to walk away but he knew he wasn't one of those men.

 "Is this out of some misguided notion that you and I have a connection or some shit because of the things you just shared?" He asked, keeping his voice low. "If you think you want to sleep with me because all I did was to listen.... I don't want to be accused of exploiting you."

 "I am many things, Haymitch, but misguided is not one of them. You would not be taking advantage of me if that is what you are worried about. We are both consenting adults after all."

 Her hand fluttered to his shoulder and it rested there, light and gentle, but he was acutely aware of her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. Somehow, he didn't think being coy was her style. Still, he couldn't help but to lean in a little closer.

 His nose gently brushed against the side of her jaw, barely touching, and when he inhaled the smell of her perfume, the fingers on his collar moved to stroke the back of his neck.

 "I believe," she brought her mouth to his ear, her voice honeyed and husky, "I made it clear that I want you."

 His stomach coiled in anticipation and he felt the need to tame something feral growing inside him.

 It was so simple for her. She knew what she wanted and she stated it without being afraid of going after it. Haymitch, who often repressed his own desires unless it was for alcohol, found that to be irresistible.

 Haymitch relocated his hand from her elbow down to her waist.

 “What do you want, Haymitch?” she asked. "You shouldn't deny yourself anything."

 The stroke of her fingers on the nape of his neck was distracting and he couldn't think straight. She was a flirt and he was toeing the line between keeping his wits and letting himself go.

 "You're a hedonist," he breathed into her skin, "and a minx."

 Goosepimples erupted on her skin and without thinking about it he kissed the spot just on the side of her neck. Haymitch heard the tinkle of her laughter as he gave in to it.

 "Come with me."

 He held out his hand to her and when she placed her hand in his, Haymitch tugged her towards the elevator that would take them down to his room.

There's this French tourist I discovered on Instagram who takes nice photos of Singapore – you might recognise some of the places by now! Here's his IG. He's got the Infinity Pool & Marina Bay Sands in it.

For the mentioned places this week in case you didn’t click the link, here you go:

I took the 2nd photo myself while in the bus which is why it’s at an odd angle.

I've been quite excited to let you read this chapter because I really enjoyed writing it! You get the chapter early this week because I'll be flying off to Malaysia in a few hours and won't be in Singapore for the weekend. So leave a review, let me know your thoughts - if Haymitch is making a good decision or what you think will happen. I'd like to come home to some reviews so don't let me down :)