One-Shot: Mistletoe Kiss from a Peacekeeper
I never thought I would appreciate the bitterness of a District 12 winter so much. Maybe it initially passed my notice because I am a naturally bitter person. But winning the Hunger Games and coming home all alone is a good way to rethink your priorities.
I have been the Third Victor from my District, the winner of the 74th Hunger Games, for six months now. My mother and sister and I live in a mansion within a Village high on a hill. With only a drunk for company.
I hunt out in the woods alone now. My old hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne, could join me, but I feel it is better if he is not seen with me. I feel unclean, like a monster. No, the murderer that I am. It is better if as few people associate with me as possible.
The one exception that has manifested itself these last several months is in the form of a red-haired Peacekeeper.
Darius is one of the few people outside of my family whom I don't mind being around. He is the only Peacekeeper whom I genuinely respect. He has always traded fairly for hunting game. In the months after I have come from the arena, Darius has stopped by nightly to patrol Victors' Village. The first couple of times he stopped by, he had to direct me inside and get me to lie down. I was still suffering from PTSD more acutely then. Pretty soon, his almost Healer-like care morphed into me or Mother inviting him in for a cup of tea.
Before long, Darius's patrols have turned into long nightly walks for us. Sometimes, we talk about District goings-on. I ask him if he still offers kisses as payment for trades. He's offered to kiss me more times than I can count. He grins and wiggles his eyebrows.
"You offering, Miss Everdeen?"
I laugh and shove him away.
Sometimes, we talk about nothing at all. Like this snowy, moonlit night, as we stroll under the streetlamls in companionable silence. Passing under a storefront, Darius stops and points above his head.
"Mistletoe." A sprig from the seasonal plant is hanging from a beam.
I look to Darius, my expression serious and blank. I know the tradition. I don't say a word. Silently, I grasp his white uniform in my fists and pull him close. I kiss him soundly.
I have never deliberately kissed anyone before. Nor have I been kissed in return. Darius's lips taste wet, but also impossibly smooth, for someone with as hard a job as his. I feel Darius's mouth press back into mine, his arms encircle my waist as he kisses me back. His tongue probes for entrance, and I allow it, parting my lips for him.
After several moments, we break apart. Darius seems stunned and elated all at once. It makes me wonder if all those entreaties for a kiss before were more than a passing joke.
"Kiss me again," I order. A kiss for a kiss is a fair trade, fueled by mistletoe or not.
Taking me in his arms, Darius now initiates a kiss between us. I close my eyes and moan at the pleasure. "Hmmmm..." My arms go about Darius's neck, clasping into his shoulder blades and keeping him where I want him.
And as I kiss this man, and he kisses me in return, newly fallen snow and Christmas lights flicker around us.
Darius's kiss becomes so passionate that we slip and fall in the snow, dragging each other down. I end up on top of him and, actually laughing, I silence his chuckle with a gentle kiss. A peck on the lips.
I see Darius off to the Peacekeeper Barracks, gently indulging a goodnight kiss from him (only when mistletoe appears in his hand) before heading home. Our tumble in the snow has soaked my clothes through, so I resolve to draw a warm bath. Mother greets me at the door.
"Did you have a good walk, dear?" It is still weird to see her so warm, hear her so happy; for years, she was all but dead inside after losing my father in a mining accident.
"It was just seeing Darius home, Mother," I shrug, brushing past her into the kitchen. I greet Prim at the table.
"Just Darius?" Mother eyes me twinklingly. I flush when I should maintain a flat affect.
"Mother..."
"He'd be a fine man to marry, Katniss. You're practically of equal station now. But wedding a Peacekeeper would give you prestige in the Capitol." And one other thing, that she only communicates silently: safety.
Mother is forgetting that very few Victors have ever gotten married. It would be almost impossible for me to be a mentor, and wife and mother too. I shudder at the implication of children. I definitely won't have any now. The children of a Victor are ripe fodder for any arena.
Besides, to let Darius court me and perhaps even marry me would be seen, by me, as the ultimate betrayal. Betrayal of the boy I left behind. In that arena. Peeta.
Peeta Mellark was a Merchant Baker's son who professed his love for me when we were sent into the Games. I played along with the love story, but not well enough to save him. I should have been braver. I should have swallowed my own insecurities and kisssed him the way our mentor Haymitch wanted me too. Maybe then, our "forbidden love" would have been more credible and Peeta would have beaten the blood poisoning that ultimately took him.
Peeta still haunts me. I think he always will. And he would probably be what stops me from entertaining a romantic relationship with Darius.
I feel that I would be unfaithful, somehow.