Lady Delia of the Rock was beautiful, there was no denying it. She looked extremely like the Queen, with her long golden hair pinned immaculately up around her head and her scarlet red dress which smoothed out the curve of her hips and made her breasts extremely eye catching. She was one of the most equally envied and desired women in the realm.

"Isn't she a vision son?" His father asked, with a wide smile and a raise of his eyebrows. A friendly expression that would quickly shift should Peeta give the wrong answer.

"Yes father, very much so," he answered dutifully before nodding his head in acknowledgement at Delia. She blushed and giggled girlishly before turning to her handmaidens; he rolled his eyes as she turned away and took another mouthful of wine. Of course she was pretty, many of the highborn girls ; they were well fed, they had people catering to their every whim and were dressed in the finest silks and fabrics in all the land. Despite this, Peeta still had no desire to marry Lady Delia. She had been the ideal choice for the heir to the throne; her father Densfort Leriche, Warden of the West, was the wealthiest man in the realm and a friend of the King, Peeta's father. Peeta had liked Delia well enough when they were younger; she was funny and sweet and always played games with him on her visits to Kings Landing. There was no tension between them, no pressure to like each other because she was promised for his brother. Until Ryland had been found in bed with a squire the previous year, a boy Peeta had seen many times before lurking around the keep but had never really taken notice of. The King had went to Peeta's chambers that night just as before bedtime and had made him swear that day to never embarrass their family the way Ryland did. He had shouted in the face of his youngest son that if he ever did he would regret it. He'd made him promise to uphold the standards of House Mellark.

"Always Peeta, promise me you'll always always remember your family and what we represent?" his face was redder than Peeta had ever seen it before and his strong hand was fisted in Peeta's night clothes.

"Always," he'd muttered, teeth chattering from the fear of the consequences should he not.

Father had taken Ryland hunting the following week where he died in a tragic accident and Peeta realised exactly what the consequences were. Peeta had wept alongside his mother and father for his brother, the wonderful Prince of Panem, all the while harbouring a secret loathing for his own parents. He had no desire to be a King, there was no passion to rule, no need for power that burned in his belly. He bore his title as heir with a fake grin and a heavy heart and spent his days training hard with his sword and, when he was old enough to sneak it, his nights with wine and liquor. His father swore to keep his promise to Leriche and his family and he did. He was married to Delia at the age of 16 and their first son, Prince Alben, was born not long after his 17th birthday. The first time Peeta held his son he did not feel the rush of love his father had promised, he could never envision himself having the look of his wife as she started down at the baby boy they had created, nothing but pure love and joy in her expression. He'd always wanted a family of his own up until his brother had died when he'd realised that any family he produced from then on would be only an obligation, a means to provide an heir, to ensure the crown did not pass on to a cousin or farther afield. He cared for the boy as hard as he could, ensured he had all that he needed, but as heartless as it made him feel, he could not bring himself to give the unconditional love Alben deserved. His only comfort was that Alben had Delia and she loved their son more than anything else in the world.

His wife had moved into a separate bed chamber long ago, just after they had found out she was pregnant with the heir to Panem.

"There is no need for us to share a bed any longer," he'd told her as he'd presented her with her new chambers, "I hope you will find these suitable, my lady." He seen the tears in her eyes as he walked away.

It was during a tourney that he was unable to take part in that he first laid eyes on Lady Katniss Everdeen. He was just 21 and already a cripple. He'd injured his leg badly the year before, so badly that he could not walk without a cane most days and could definitely not sword fight or joust. Of course, he was still smiled at by every lady that walked by, still fawned over by everyone in the Kingdom. Peeta Mellark was likeable in a way his father had never achieved, he was more handsome and charming and he was afterall, the heir to the throne. It was little wonder therefore that rumours had circulated Kings Landing for years that King Mellark often felt threatened by his own offspring.

He had no reason to worry. Peeta spent many of his waking hours dreaming and pondering ways to abandon his title and never return, to journey out across the sea and spend the rest of his life in peaceful, anonymous existence. However there was never anything there to ignite the fire he needed to give him the push, to make him want it that little bit more, to make him brave enough to actually go through with it.

He could spy her in her blue dress not far him, sitting amongst the rest of the Everdeen household. She perched between her mother and her younger sister, Lady Primrose. He'd heard many tales of the beauty of Primrose, the Winter Rose she was called. Some said that was destined to be as beautiful as Princess Delia despite being only 11 years old with her pale blonde hair and sweet demure nature. It was not Lady Primrose however that Peeta was infatuated with, but her older sister. She was a vision if he ever did see one; some of her dark hair was braided around the crown her head, threads of silver weaved through the plaits, with the rest left to fall in thick, glossy waves down her back. She was slender and petite with dazzling silver eyes and a laugh that made Peeta's heart lurch in his chest. She smiled beautifully and clapped dutifully following each event however none of it seemed genuine enough to be real, her smile never quite made it to her eyes and her hands moved half heartedly. He'd heard his father mention House Everdeen before, the Wardens of the North and descendants of the Old Kings of Winter. She was heir to her father's seat and therefore quite sought after by many Lords for their sons however his mother did not consider their family an appropriate match. She did not see the attraction in the wilderness of the North and when telling of the times she and his father visited, she only had complaints. Peeta thought it sounded wonderful, being miles and miles away from Kings Landing and the south. He'd heard that Katniss was promised to the son of Lord Hawthorne, a young brute of a man known for his tremendous skill with a sword and sheer power in the melee at tourneys. He was also known for his womanising and relentless alcoholism but these traits were often ghosted over. However as Hawthorne duelled resiliently in the arena, taking down his opponents with what seemed minimum effort, Katniss Everdeen gave him no more than a cursory clap, the same as all others that day.

Afterwards he introduced himself, his heart beating furiously and hands almost shaking with anticipation as he took her hand and kissed it softly.

"My lady."

She smiled, just a small curve of her lips but Peeta could see all that lay beneath her ladylike posture through the fire in her eyes.

"My prince."

He'd heard her referred to as the she wolf before, never by those in the royal court before, but on the streets. He'd heard that she was wild and had a rebellious edge her father sought to quell, that she couldn't be tamed. Those rumours were not false, Peeta mused as he moved above her, her shrieks and moans only subdued by his hand pressed against her mouth. She was insatiable, for someone who had been a virgin only hours before. After he'd finsihed the first time she'd barely allowed him time to rest, climbing atop him and straddling his face until her brought her to orgasm with his mouth. It was a pleasant change from his wife's submission in bed all those years ago; how she'd just lain there and barely made a sound, blushing and stopping him everytime he'd tried to pleasure her.

He was exhausted but unwilling to stop, he'd never experienced such feelings before, such vitality. He felt like his blood was alight with passion, passion he'd never felt before this night. Not with his wife, not with duelling, certainly not with his title and the thought of ruling. She stopped him from finishing and climbed on top of him, riding him to completion as he pressed his mouth against her breast and rubbed furiously at her clit, tossing her head back and covering her own mouth as she came.

They lay afterwards, sweaty and breathless, naked and with all bedsheets pushed to the floor. He held her and kissed her softly and realised he'd never known love either before this night. For surely this was what he'd heard people speak of and sing of, this feeling in his chest. The feeling of never wanting her to leave his arms and never wanting to be without her again. She was to leave for the north again in three days when he would go back to his miserable existence.

"I don't want to leave," she whispered as though she head read his thoughts. He knew that she meant Kings Landing and not just his bed. "Lord Hawthorne is strong and powerful, a good match I have been told, and my father promises he will change his ways when we are married but..." She stopped, eyes wet and her forehead creased with frown lines. "I don't want him. The thought of being married to him makes me feel sick. I don't want any of it. I hate this life, our life."

Peeta knew her marriage would be soon too, she had just turned 16 a few weeks before, surely the preparations for the wedding were already under way. He held her close, his stomach turning as an idea suddenly came to mind. An idea he'd considered hundreds of times but never had enough reason to do so, never had anything propelling him forward.

"We could both leave. Together."

On the morning that House Everdeen were due to depart Kings Landing and head north again, the eldest daughter could not be found in her sleeping chambers. She was searched for, high and low, but not a trace was to discovered. Not long after word had spread that the Prince was also nowhere to be seen.

Searches were conducted, across and up and down the country, people were questioned and quizzed as to the whereabouts of Prince Peeta and Lady Katniss, the families all the while trying to keep the information as contained as possible. Eventually the search was rendered hopeless. They were pronounced dead to save the reputations of their families despite the fact that many already knew the truth.

Delia lived the rest of her days in Kings Landing with her son, her beloved son who would go on to become a great King and who would credit his mother with the praise she deserved, for raising him to be the wonderful man that he was. Lady Primrose Everdeen was married to Lord Gale Hawthorne on the day of her 16th birthday. They would hold both their families seats and go on to have three strong sons; children Primrose would raise while turning a blind eye to her thoughtless husband's drinking and whoring

Across the Narrow Sea, in a village so small that it did not have a name there was a small white house that sat on the outskirts of all the other houses. In the house lived a young man and woman who had not been born there but arrived rather mysteriously. Peeta and Katniss went under different names for the rest of their lives, names that were not prefixed by titles or greeted with bows and kisses to the hand. They were well liked in the village they called home; Peeta baking for a living and Katniss taking care of their home while mending clothes for many of the villagers with the limited sewing skills she had gained from her time in Panem. They would keep their heads bowed every time anyone of importance or grandeur would make their way through the village. They never heard news from home, not of their families or of the politics there, and they were perfectly content to never hear.

Their first child was born after only a year in their new home, a daughter with hair like her mothers and a smile like her father's. They would go on to have another daughter and a son within the five years that followed, children who would never thankfully know the burdens that their parents were once forced to bear.

Ten years following the night they had fled Panem, with their children asleep in their beds and the sweat from their love making still cooling on their skin, she revealed that she almost did not attend the tourney in Kings Landing. It was one of the very few times they ever spoke of Panem and it caught Peeta off guard given where they were and what they were doing. She smiled and laughed and told him how glad she was that she made the journey that would turn her world upside down, for the better. He gazed upon her then, her smiling face and closed eyes, her stomach round again with their child and told her how he could never imagine his life without her. How he would have traded any number of titles and thrones and riches for her love.

"Promise you'll stay with me then?" she whispered, voice tired and relaxed on the brink of sleep. He smiled and pulled her body close as he too lay down to sleep. He was unsure if she heard what he said but he would go on to reassure her of it throughout the rest of their lives.

"Always."