Notes: I like writing these little Hunger Games one-shots~
Anyway, this is from chapters 16 and 17 of Mockingjay. At first, I was really quite devastated with the way Peeta utterly changed. And I still am, but while writing this I could understand why Peeta hated Katniss. I'm not exactly sure how he returned to liking her. I feel like the Katniss & Peeta relationship was sort of...maimed and then patched together. Of course, I love them but...Peeta changed so much he was basically unrecognizable through the text.
Katniss is still lacking in the affection department, and that's just how she is. But the fact that Peeta was tortured is is mentally unstable after this, I do think she could have showed a little more affection and care. She cried, sure, but when she actually went to see Peeta she could have used some of those emotions to support and help him.
She's the Mockingjay, and although she sang during the book she's a Muted Mockingjay. Mockingjays repeat songs with their own variation to them. Peeta has given Katniss so much love, care, support, confidence, etc, and she won't even hum a note back when he needs her song/love the most.
So yeah, a little bit of a rant and a little background information on the title & the last part of the fic if it gets confusing.
I don't own the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does! The song at the end is the "The Hanging Tree", sung by Katniss in chapter 9, put it at the end to symbolize Peeta's love/hate relationship with Katniss in this book.
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Muted Songbird
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Katniss Everdeen is a mutt.
At least, she was until she wasn't.
Delly denies the fact that Katniss is some Capitol-created monster; she constantly tells me how these delusions are a result of the Capitol's torture. She tells me how Katniss Everdeen loves me, how she cares for her family and friends, how courageous and brave she is.
I can't tell if my memories are right or wrong. I let Delly tell me things, because I know Delly and she will tell me what is real.
But regarding Katniss, I remain doubtful and skeptical.
Katniss came to visit me once (technically twice, because I tried to strangle her the first time. It was so easy to kill the nightmare that had been haunting me because she came to me with open arms—), because I asked for her. I wanted to see her first, and it occurred to me she wasn't anything special. Small, almost fragile. Good looking, but nothing particularly flattering.
She says sharp words that make me laugh, because she's not very nice, either. She turns to leave, but I stop her with words about bread. I do remember that day; it's actually pathetically sad, the way she was so outwardly fragile back then.
"The next day, after school, I wanted to thank you. But I didn't know how." She tells me.
"We were outside at the end of the day. I tried to catch your eye. You looked away. And then…for some reason, I think you picked a dandelion."
She nods, so what I'm saying must be right even if I don't trust her.
"I must have loved you a lot," I say.
"You did." She replies, with a catch in her voice. She looks at the tiled floor, and I am curious about that catch in her voice. It was true that I loved her a lot, or it seemed that way from the videos of the Games, and from what she says now. The way I loved her seems far away, somewhere in the back of my memory; I can recall the fervor and intensity I loved her with, yet that emotion does not return.
I can tell that she didn't—or doesn't?—love me the way I loved her. I can tell the mention of Gale angers her. I laugh, tell her that she's a real piece of work because she is; she's capable of being soft and sweet but more often so cunningly manipulative and destructive, both physically and mentally, with a constant scowl etched into her face rather than an innocent smile. She walks out, because she can't bear to have her flaws told to her by someone who loved her like the piece of work she is.
It's a few days before I am allowed to go out. Accompanied by guards, of course. Two of them, who put the shackles on my wrists, connected by a short chain so I cannot harm anyone.
It doesn't take long to spot her in the cafeteria. I don't know why. But I see her almost immediately, surrounded by people who I suppose are her friends. Gale, for one. Finnick Odair, and his new wife, Annie Cresta (or rather, Annie Odair). There's Delly. Johanna Mason.
I don't know why I even walk over to the table to sit with them when I could clearly avoid the situation. But perhaps it is that old familiarity.
She doesn't notice me at first. She seems to be enjoying her stew, mopping up the last bit with a piece of bread. Finnick is telling a story, something about a turtle and a hat. Katniss is laughing. The cruelty and haggard looks etched into her face disappear, replaced with a younger, carefree girl. She looks prettier, more like a normal girl rather than some horrific vulture.
But she is still the same Katniss, even if a moment changes her.
The laughter ceases when she catches my eye and she looks like she is internally choking on her bread (or me, since I am the baker's son, the boy with bread). Delly is surprised, but she tries to hide it and sound nice. Johanna asks about the bracelets (I smile wryly at her choice of words), and I explain to her. She moves over, indicating for me to join them, and I seat myself. I can tell that having me here is deeply uncomfortable, especially for Katniss. And it's satisfying, because she cares.
I make things worse, but the emotion of caring about feelings deserts me.
Finnick and Annie leave.
"Oh, Peeta. Don't make me sorry that I restarted your heart," Finnick says with cold humor as he walks away, glancing at Katniss worriedly. Delly supports his words, but I deflect them. He saved my life for Katniss. I hold no importance. Had I not been Katniss's lover, they would have just let me die because I am unimportant.
I notice that Gale and Katniss are sitting side by side in a close companionship, and I point this out with my spoon because why not just make Gale her new lover? Johanna offhandedly tells me that the star-crossed lovers thing is still dragging.
It's hard to explain how I feel at this moment. I want to kill her. Yet, it pains me to think that. My hands want to wring her neck, to show her how vulnerable and weak she really is, but because she is so vulnerable and weak I stop myself.
Gale leaves with Katniss after telling me of his disbelief at my change, but I can see some familiarity in his eyes at the way I act. Yes, I have changed, because I have been tortured. Johanna told them that we were well acquainted with each other's screams. I will not forget the time I spent in the Capitol as a prisoner. But again, everyone worries about Katniss. Katniss who kisses people's hearts and pierces them with her arrows, but ends up letting those hearts bleed until they stop. I am continuously unimportant, I am only another victim of her loveless arrow.
The images that my memories hold are clearer, but she is still a mutt.
Johanna and Delly are left, sitting silently as they finish their stew.
Stew. Katniss' favorite at the Capitol was the lamb stew with dried plums.
"I loved her," I mutter. "Don't you still love her? Isn't she the same? Yes, she is the same in some aspects, but we've both changed. I hate her and she cares. Shouldn't you be happy that she cares? I am, and I want to strangle her. Stop it, it's not what you want to do. I know what I want to do, I want to kill her. This isn't you, Peeta, you're losing sight of yourself and you're losing sight of Katniss. Katniss never cared! You can't lose sight of something that doesn't exist in the first place!"
Before I know it, I am back in the room with the tiled flooring.
It doesn't make sense. If I loved her, why isn't it coming back to me?
I am a specimen being watched through a wall of glass. I am confined to this room where there is no one but me. Katniss is the Mockingjay outside my window, always fluttering and wanting my attention but because I am rendered unable to give it to her, she flits away.
Some mockingjay she is.
She won't stay by my side when I need her the most. She won't sing me the songs that I have sung to her; she won't sing me the songs that she sings for everyone else.
And I hate her for it.
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"Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree..."
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