The Twelve Months: A Midwinter's Tale
By GhtlovesThg
On the longest night of the year, Katniss experiences the shortest twelve months of her life. Everlark Fairytale AU.
Chapter One: Galanthus
*~*~ 1 ~*~*
Katniss trudged heavily through the snow, not even worrying about scaring off potential game. There was none to be found; the few half-starved squirrels she'd bagged at dusk seemed to be the only animals foolish enough to be out of a den, burrow, or nest on this bitterly cold night.
It was far too dark for further hunting or tracking. She should be home. Hunting in this light was not only pointless, but dangerous as well, a fact her stepmother and stepsister didn't concern themselves with. They kept her home all day completing the chores and tasks they didn't wish to, yet still expected a full game bag upon her return, after preventing her from setting out until late afternoon. As the nights got longer and colder, Katniss couldn't help but wonder if they hoped that one night, she wouldn't come back at all.
And even though the cold was so sharp as to be painful, she wasn't hurrying home, either. These woods, hollow and lonely in the crisp silence of the night, felt more like home now than the cottage by the woods where she'd grown up. Katniss could feel her father here. He had been the last of her kin to leave her, and his spirit somehow permeated the spaces between the branches. She often thought she saw him, darting between tree trunks out of the corner of her eye. But whenever she turned to look, she'd catch only the edge of a mockingjay wing, the bird flitting away to a place she couldn't follow.
Perhaps he had not found Prim and her mother yet, in that other world, so he stuck close, clinging to the familiar before moving on. But for his sake, she hoped he was with them. There was little worth staying for here- she should know.
Her feet slowed on the path. There was something different about these woods, hidden from plain sight but felt nonetheless. The trees felt like monuments to her family. At one time, their livelihood and happiness had originated here: her mother foraging, her father hunting and trapping, she and Prim running wild all over. Their memory called to her on her hunts. The wind whistled through tangled branches, over gnarled, knotted trunks, whispering for her to come closer, step off the path and let the dark, sentinel-like forms enclose her, shelter her in their swaying arms.
It was tempting. Perhaps she'd never find the path again. Katniss wondered if the quiet that invited her deeper into the forest could lead her to her loved ones. All she'd have to do was wish her father's bow a final goodnight and leave it on the worn trail for Woodcutter Hawthorne to find. They'd all assume she'd been attacked by some wild creature or spirited away by some fantastical being. Such things were rumored to abound in the heart of the forest. The quiet, foreboding promise of the darkened wood sounded far preferable to the beating she'd likely receive upon returning home with only a few squirrels in her game bag.
Her stepmother didn't take well to disappointment, nor perceived disobedience. Though the woman had once been married to a baker, there was nothing sweet about her or the cruel daughter she'd named for a spice. Katniss had never been able to understand why her grieving father remarried the baker's bitter widow, bringing the woman and Clove into their lives. She feared he had done it for her sake. With a king that feared and eradicated anything that could be construed as witchcraft, being a healer's daughter was a damaging, dangerous stigma. It was possible her father married a baker's widow to distance them from his late wife's profession. Katniss was safe, but with him gone as well, there was no one left that she loved.
The forest's silent invitation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a man crying out in distress. Katniss quickly turned and peered into a different patch of trees, noticing a faint light in the distance. Worried that the brusque but goodhearted woodcutter had met with some danger – these woods were full of wild dogs - beasts especially reckless when hungry in this desperate season - she nocked an arrow and ran towards his direction to help.
However, it was not Gale she found, but an older man in military garb. He was laying in the snow, groaning in pain, with a large tree limb pinning his leg to the ground. The man was stretching and flailing, contorting his body in an effort to get a grip on the damp wood and roll it off him. Katniss hastened to his side, eager to assist.
"Oh Miss! Thank God! I can't get enough leverage on this branch to get my foot out. The damn thing just snapped under the weight of the snow and came down on me!"
The heavy snow had a tendency to send dead tree limbs down to the ground with alarming speed. As Katniss heaved and pushed at the branch, she was slowly able to roll it enough for the man to extricate his foot.
"Are you badly hurt?" she asked breathlessly once he'd yanked free.
"It's sprained, I think," he said, "and I'm damned lucky that's all. I think the snow cover helped to cushion the impact. If you hadn't happened upon me, I don't know if I could have worked it off of my leg. I could have died of exposure."
Katniss nodded in agreement. It was uncommonly lucky that she'd been nearby when it had happened and not once he'd frozen to death.
"I'm Captain Boggs, Miss. May I inquire as to the name of my hale little savior?"
Katniss flushed and bowed a sloppy curtsy. She was merely a peasant villager, she'd never conversed with a captain in the King's military. "Katniss Everdeen, sir."
"And pray tell," he inquired,"what could bring one such as yourself out on this bitterly cold evening? Shouldn't you be at home, warm by the fire?"
Katniss averted her eyes. She really preferred not to discuss her home life. "What of you, sir? How does this night find a soldier of the imperial guard in a common wood?"
At this, Boggs threw his head back and boomed a great, deep laugh, "A soldier at my age! Bless you for saying so! But I'm not just any captain my dear, I am the Captain of the Guard! I report directly to King Coriolanus."
Katniss' eyes widened in disbelief. She was standing and chatting with the highest ranking military commander in the land.
"And I am here to find a tree," he added.
"A tree?" It seemed he had achieved his task, as they were surrounded on all sides by them. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
"Yes, but not just any tree," he clarified. "I have been given the...honor of finding the most perfect tree in all the forest, one fit for the grand ballroom of the Snow palace. Beautiful enough to compete with the gold and jewels that will adorn its boughs, and big enough to spread over the gifts sent to the royal family from all over the land."
"But why should the king send his best military adviser out on such a night, just for a tree?"
"Ah, but the king didn't send me," he explained sadly. "It was his granddaughter who ordered me here."
"Has she no respect for your position or well being?"
"I'm afraid not," he sighed. "It seems she thinks finding the perfect fir is just the sort of task that should occupy the Captain of the Guard. And as she is next in line for the throne, I am bound to obey her to the the exclusion of all, save the King, who is known for indulging her every whim."
"Well, surely a lesson will be learned when she has to send someone out all over again tomorrow. Let's hope she sends a woodsmen next time, and during daylight. Here, I'll help you back on your horse and you can return and soak your foot," Katniss directed.
"Miss, I cannot return without that tree," he protested. "I would be severely punished! Snow may not care for the task itself, but he cares greatly about insolence and disobedience- especially from high ranking officers and officials! Once an order is issued, by himself or his granddaughter, one must obey. The more lofty your position, the more eager King Coriolanus is to remove you from it. Now, I would appreciate assistance back on my horse, but I shall continue searching for the tree," he insisted.
Katniss surveyed the scene. The horse was hitched to a long, narrow sled, undoubtedly intentioned for carrying a fir tree. A sturdy axe was affixed to the saddle. Sighing, she stooped to brace Captain Boggs with her shoulder, slinging her arm under his own as he hobbled to his horse with her support.
She knew that the later it got, the more she'd be made to regret returning home. But she couldn't leave Captain Boggs here, injured, as the deathly cold of the night settled around them like fog.
"I know of just the tree. I'll take you to it."
He looked like he wanted to protest for her sake, but she stared at him, determination in her eyes, decision already made. He had to know he'd never accomplish his task in his poorly state.
"Thank you, child."
Once he was on his mount, Katniss drew the reins into her hands and led the horse forward slowly, weaving through trees in silence.
"You never told me why a young girl is alone in a treacherous forest at night," Boggs reminded gently.
Katniss sighed. "I am tasked with bringing home a game bag full of rabbits and fowl."
"Surely that's impossible, in this dark, with the scarcity of this winter," the knight captain protested.
Katniss merely nodded her agreement. What was there to say?
The silence lapsed once more.
"Well, you deserve much better, my lass. If I ever find myself in a position to help you, I shall certainly endeavor to do so."
She turned to look back at him, touched. "Thank you."
"And how did you come to know the location of this tree?"
Katniss smiled. "My father knew the wending animal trails of this wood better than the lines of his own palm. You'd think he'd been the playmate of fawns and fox kits as a child. Though he showed me as much as he could before he died, there are a great many areas I do not know as well as he did."
Katniss didn't usually like talking about her father, it was too painful, but somehow tonight, in his woods with a man who spoke to her with kindness, something she'd not heard since her father was alive, Katniss suddenly needed to talk about him again.
"This evergreen is deep enough in the wood that even our woodcutter, Gale Hawthorne, has not found it. And a good thing, for it is far too majestic for kindling. If it must be cut, it deserves to have it's boughs laden in precious metals and gems."
When they finally entered a clearing, the tree in question came into view, its deep green branches glittering under a blanket of snow, spreading its reach across the space like a bird stretching its wings to display magnificent plumage. The stillness of the clearing made one feel as though the whole forest was holding its breath in deference to the splendor of the arbor. Boggs knew he would have nothing to fear when returning to the palace.
"As splendid as this tree is, there is an even greater beauty in this wood," Katniss continued quietly. "It's deeper in the forest than I've ventured alone. I've only seen it once and never since, but it was shown to me by my father. A lake as round as a perfect saltwater pearl, with a willow tree, massive and ancient, leaning over the water. The tree dips leafy tendrils into the currents, rippling the mirror's edge of the water.
"I wish I could see it again," Katniss whispered.
She shook herself from her nostalgic reverie. "I suppose I'll do the chopping, as I've never seen a man fell a tree on an injured foot." And before Boggs could agree or protest, Katniss had unfastened the axe from the saddle and approached the trunk.
The forest shook with the resonating thuds and thwacks of an axe and its wielder, determined to save the life of an old soldier on a cold winter's evening.
*~*~ 2 ~*~*
King Coriolanus twisted his mouth into a sort of sardonic grimace. Everything, everywhere, was white. The balustrades were festooned in garlands and banners of the finest, palest silk. Exquisite glass icicles and snowflakes hung from every lintel and dangled from the vaulted ceilings. The halls were simply choked with white roses. Each chandelier dripped with an abundance of lit candles, and the tree was laden with white poinsettia and white-gold ornaments inlaid with opals. The servants had decorated its branches through the night since its arrival yesterday.
Despite standing in the midst of the most lavish winter wonderland the kingdom had ever seen, his granddaughter was pouting.
"Whatever is the matter, my dove?" Coriolanus chimed with great disinterest.
"It's all these roses! They throw the whole thing off. Roses are better suited to the summer, they don't belong in my winter fairyland! I want a different flower for the halls of the palace!" she complained.
The king narrowed snake-like, rheumy eyes at his last living heir. His granddaughter was the dearest to him of all his relations. That wasn't saying much. The majority of his family had died by his own hand.
One by one, he had suspected each member of the Snow line was plotting for his throne, and had acted accordingly. His foolish little granddaughter, named Coin for money itself, was as covetous and grasping as he was paranoid and heartless. And in this, her blatant, irredeemable avarice, he could relate to her with his own hunger for power. Had she been older, he would have poisoned her, for she'd never be able to resist lusting for the throne. As it was, he would be deteriorating just as she was coming of age, so he had let her live, to continue the family's rule. With enemies and allies out of the way, he concerned himself only with the endless search for more power.
"Then you must choose a different flower, my blossom. Whichever you desire. We shall fill the halls with them," he answered. He turned back to his one-man chess game.
"Well then I want Galanthus nivalis!"
"The common snowdrop? Isn't that a wildflower?" he inquired with disgust.
"Yes, but it's beautiful, and even bears our namesake! It will be perfect. None shall ever forget a palace full of galanthus in the yuletide," she boasted.
"As you say, my jewel," Snow muttered, eager to have the conversation done with. "Now leave the rest to me. "Plutarch! Plutarch Heavensbee!"
Once the Prime Minister answered his summons, Princess Coin's desires were communicated.
"B-but," he spluttered, "galanthus won't be in bloom until spring! It's simply impossible to get enough to fill these halls," Plutarch protested.
"You filled them with roses, didn't you? And roses aren't winter flowers either!" Coin insisted petulantly.
"Yes, but we have hothouses full of them, as they are your grandfather's personal favorite, and the official flower of the kingdom," Minister Heavensbee reasoned, looking to the king for support.
Snow growled as he took another pawn with his white king. This nonsense was distracting him from maneuvering into a position to fell the dark queen.
"Heavensbee!" Snow boomed. "I do not care how you do it, but I want to see the palace full of snowdrops by yuletide! And don't disappoint me!" he hissed.
Trembling, Minister Heavensbee hurried from the room.
*~*~ 3 ~*~*
Katniss winced as she set a bowl of the coarse grain the king allotted to his subjects under the apple tree. Merah had not been impressed with the squirrels last night, and had made it known – in the form of a line of deep purple bruises all down Katniss' arm.
Her stepmother and stepsister were getting ready to go into town. Clove wanted to select some shawls and maybe a basket to use in the new year, and Merah had planned on trading game for spending money. When she had failed to deliver, Merah stormed into her little room and grabbed the pelts Katniss was saving for a new blanket as restitution. On her way out, she'd spied Katniss' mockingjay pin, a precious gift from her father, and taken that as well. Katniss was enraged, and half tempted to physically force her to return it – heaven knew she was skilled with bow and arrow – but the memory of her family stopped her. She knew her father, mother, and most especially her sister Prim wouldn't want her to stoop to their level and use violence to get her way.
So instead, she held her tears and consoled herself by feeding the mockingjays, the one animal she would never hunt, for her father had loved them so. They gathered in the gnarled old apple tree, eagerly anticipating the grain she regularly set out, and it was one of the few things that still brought her joy to see.
She was so diverted watching them hop about and whistle to each other that she didn't hear Merah and Clove exit the house.
"Are you wasting what little we have on birds?" Merah shrieked.
Clove laughed spitefully as she carved an apple into wedges. "Well I guess she can do whatever she'd like with her supper. Just make sure that's all the food she gets today."
As Katniss glared at Clove, she saw the girl smirk while considering the mockingjays. Raising her arm, she hurled the knife she'd been using toward the feeding birds.
It lodged itself in the trunk of the tree with a resounding thud, and the birds scattered in terror. Katniss could barely breathe, still recovering from the fear that Clove had hit one.
"See if they let you feed them after that!" Clove gloated.
"And to make sure you don't go on wasting food," Merah continued, "I'm locking the house up tight. We need kindling anyways, and chopping firewood ought to keep you warm enough until we're back." With that, Merah tucked the key into her pocket and they started on their way.
Katniss sat at the foot of the apple tree, shaking in anger and eating what was left of the hard grains in the dish she'd brought out. This would be her only meal today. She was the one that provided food for the family, yet it was she who continually suffered at the whims of Clove and Merah. As she ground the tough grains between her teeth, she wondered just how much more of this she could take.
Luckily, chopping firewood did indeed keep one warm. But after she'd been at it several hours, there were no more logs to split, unless she went back into the forest. That she did not want to do. Katniss had sweat in her exertion, and the air was rapidly cooling the damp layers of her clothing. She was quickly becoming chilled and hoped they'd return soon, as the temperature was dropping as night drew nearer. It also looked like a snowstorm was approaching. She tried to keep moving for warmth, but the extended exertion of the past hours had exhausted her.
When the two finally returned a good hour and three quarters after she'd finished, she was shivering. But once Katniss saw the appraising look in their eyes, gleaming with greed, and the basket clutched tightly in Clove's fist, her shivers were of a whole new kind. By now she was huddled at the door, waiting for them to open it, but they made no move to do so.
"By order of King Coriolanus, Prime Minister Heavensbee has promised a basketful of gold to anyone who can bring galanthus blooms to the palace!" Clove announced excitedly.
Katniss didn't need to consult her parent's plant book to know there would be no baskets of gold given to the kingdom's subjects this year. Finding galanthus simply wasn't possible in December. She watched them tiredly, wondering what the excitement on their faces meant for her, and when she'd be able to go inside and get warm.
"You know the forest better than anybody Katniss, and if it weren't for your laziness, we'd have the money we need for the things we want! So it should be you who finds the galanthus!" Merah declared.
Katniss staggered to her feet in shock. "What? But that's impossible, you know that! Even if I wanted to collect some, I couldn't! It's just a waste of time!"
She wanted to offer that her time could be much better spent hunting, a pursuit that might actually yield some reward, but Katniss was starting to fear she'd be sent into the woods in the approaching blizzard if such a suggestion was made.
"Don't be so difficult! You're good at foraging, I'm sure you'll manage to find some in no time! Now I want you to fill this basket- the more flowers, the more gold!
Katniss shook her head, clinging to the door. They couldn't be serious. It was a fool's errand, and on this night, a deadly one.
But Clove yanked her back, and Merah edged herself between Katniss and the doorway. Pushing the basket into her arms and giving her a great shove backwards, Clove sent Katniss sprawling. Famished and exhausted from chopping firewood for hours, Katniss landed in a heap on the ground.
The other women rushed up the steps and into the house, locking the door behind them with an audible click. But not before Merah called out, "Don't even think about showing your face here again without the galanthus!"
Katniss dragged herself to her feet and pounded on the door, but her efforts were met with silence. She tried to fight the wave of the despair that hovered, threatening to wash over her and render her useless, but she was only able to hold back the tears. She was going to die tonight.
For a time, Katniss stayed there, trying to get her panicked breathing under control and banging periodically on the wood in desperation. But the door didn't budge, and there was no indication they would come around.
She turned shakily and looked to the forest. Whatever it may be, her fate lay before her among those trees. As she approached the tree line, Katniss wasn't sure if she was entering the woods to succumb to the elements where her family felt closest, or whether she was going to try and find galanthus through some miracle. Perhaps she could reach Woodcutter Hawthorne's shack before the storm hit.
She set forth.
*~*~ 4 ~*~*
The snow was blinding. Wind whipped the drifts almost horizontally, lashing her numb, throbbing cheeks in stinging droves. She hadn't been able to keep track of the trail, and in this weather, Katniss couldn't recognize any of her surroundings.
She could be sure of very little. For certain, there was no galanthus anywhere. She also should have reached Gale's cabin ages ago, as she'd been struggling through the blizzard for hours. Lastly, Katniss knew she couldn't go on much longer.
Her limbs were shaking violently. Entire sections of her hair had been tugged from her braid by the wind and were plastered wetly to her face and neck. Katniss' tattered flannel coat had soaked through rapidly, and she'd lost the feeling in her extremities hours ago.
The blinding whiteness around her was unending. Unseen roots, stones, and branches seemed to leap out of nowhere to trip her up, and it was getting harder and harder to force herself back to her feet each time.
The forest didn't exist, the trees were gone. There was only an unforgiving, impenetrable wall of snow. And she was so, so tired. Katniss had been ravenous earlier, after her paltry meal of grains, but that was long forgotten. Nothing could compete with the exhaustion overwhelming her body.
She'd never escape these woods, never see the end of this storm. Knowing that, what was the point of struggling on? She wanted to be warm again. She wanted to feel loved. But most of all, she just needed to sleep. There had been little hope at the outset, and now nothing sounded better than stopping and resting her weary form.
Staggering to the side, Katniss tried to dodge some branches that tore at her hair. Her foot caught on a twisted root, sending her heavily to the ground once more. This time, she stayed down. Katniss laid there, surrounded by deep piles of snow. Heavy flakes quickly settled on her, obscuring the darkness of her form and reddish coat among the prevailing white. She marveled that she could barely feel the cold now.
She didn't have it in her to get back up. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, Katniss accepted what this meant for her. A single tear dropped onto her icy cheek. The contrast in temperature was so drastic it felt as though it had burned her, and she gave a little sob of fear as she wondered what, if anything, lay ahead.
"Mother," she croaked. "Oh, Prim. Father! Where are you?" But only the wind replied.
Katniss buried her face in her arms and finally let her lids droop, waiting for them to find her.
*~*~ 5 ~*~*
Gradually, she noticed the howl of the wind die down. Her senses must finally be deserting her then, her body giving in and shutting down. She waited.
But the next thing she was aware of puzzled her greatly. Katniss heard the chirps and trills of mockingjays, clear as day and very close. She dragged her head up just far enough to crack an eyelid.
There was no wind, no storm. Everything was still and beautifully pristine. Mockingjays were everywhere in the trees, perched on each branch. She must have died, then, as this was impossible. Mockingjays were one of the few birds that wintered, but the number present had to include every last one that inhabited these woods.
It was then that she noticed the light filtering eerily through the trees ahead. She glanced back up to the birds, as if for guidance, but they simply watched her, fluttering their wings and cocking their heads in interest.
The silvery rays set the icy branches aglow, and Katniss caught her breath at the beauty of it. Pale beams rippled in the air, undulating in tones of rosy orange and cool gray. Was this Heaven then? Was it truly as simple as walking into the beautiful, mysterious light before her?
When the light continued shining, Katniss forced herself to stand. With great effort, she fought her way onto trembling limbs and inched in its direction. She feared her body would not be strong enough to make it, short as the distance was. To give herself strength and courage, Katniss whispered her father's favorite song. It was a song of the acceptance of death, and her gesture of acquiescence for release and relief.
"Are you, are you
Coming to the tree"
She was getting closer, and the treeline was thinning. The forest was slowly opening to a clearing. Katniss' body ached and screamed in agony, but she knew that respite depended upon reaching the light.
"Where I told you to run so we'd both be free."
The mockingjays quickly took up her song, reciting it back to her in powerful, mellifluous notes. Her voice grew louder as they encouraged her on.
"Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree –"
As she broke past the treeline into the clearing, Katniss squinted into the source of the blinding light, her feet propelling her onward. As her eyes adjusted, she didn't know what to think. Something extraordinary was afoot.
She'd found her father's lake. It was perfectly round, as she'd remembered, and quite frozen. The bare branches of the willow tree loomed darkly on the opposite shore. What she didn't recall having seen before was the glow emanating from the ice, pearlescent patterns of light shifting and glittering in softly muted shades of silver. But the strangest thing of all had to be the group of people standing in the very center of the ice, gathered around a massive fire; one with flames the color of a rosy sunset. The blaze cast a soft orange glow on the planes of their faces.
Faces that were turned in her direction, regarding Katniss with various expressions of curiosity, disdain, annoyance, and amusement. This couldn't be Heaven. Her limbs still felt impossibly heavy and fatigue and weakness still pressed on her. Katniss didn't know who these people were, but they had a fire going, which was a start.
As she tried to force her feet into the steps required to take her onto the surface of the lake, her gaze caught on a pair of impossibly blue eyes just as her body finally gave out, collapsing in a heap on the lake shore.
*~*~ 6~*~*
The first thing she grew cognizant of was the frustration and annoyance of the woman speaking. And the volume. As Katniss gradually regained her senses, her mind began to catch distinct phrases, as it honed in on the speaker's ire.
"She's merely a mortal thing. Scarcely worth your time, Twelve!"
Katniss next noted the sensation of a hand gently carding through her hair, sweeping strands from her cheeks and smoothing wisps off her brow. It was cool and soothing. It felt magnificent. Which lead to her realization that the hand's coolness felt so good because she was so warm.
"How can I waste my time if I have endless amounts of it to give?" The reply came from nearby, the voice velvety and tinged with amusement.
The smell of baking spices was everywhere: cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and cloves, all the flavors one might hope to taste on a cold winter night, cuddled up by the fire with a plateful of sweets.
"Besides, if any one mortal is deserving of notice, it would have to be this one," the male voice added with appreciative warmth.
She languidly pulled her eyelids apart, blinking to dispel her disorientation. She was curled up, soaking in delicious warmth. As Katniss rose to her elbows, she felt the material blanketing her slip down, and turned to see that she was practically buried in a pile of luxurious furs.
A small, cheery fire crackled nearby, the same soft orange as the one she'd witnessed earlier. Katniss felt no heat emanating from it, and knew it must be enchanted. The cozy warmth that enveloped her, she realized, was simply her own body heat, effectively trapped by the furs draped over her.
"Ah, you've rejoined us," the nearby voice crooned softly.
She turned to identify its owner, and found herself face to face with a breathtakingly arresting young man. He'd apparently been keeping vigil over her, as he was seated right at her side. He had skin as fine and white as porcelain, and soft, kind features. His hair was a halo of pale golden curls, and his cheeks and lips were as colorless as his deep blue eyes were vivid. The corners of his lips were curled in delight and his eyes glittered like a starry winter night. Katniss found she couldn't look away.
A derisive snort off to the side broke her from her singular focus. She glanced up to see at least ten others standing around her on the lake shore. Each person was more stunningly beautiful than the last, in a foreign, otherworldly way, though none had the welcoming demeanor of the man next to her. Katniss found their stares unsettling in their detached perfection, and none looked so hostile as the short woman directly in front of her. As an annoyed glare was directed her way, Katniss felt sure she had found the source of the angry voice.
"Siblings," the young man said, "I think some breathing room for our guest is in order."
Her audience migrated to other spots along the shore, departing with varying looks of interest. None of them seemed bothered by the frigid temperature, or uncomfortable being in the middle of nowhere in the dead of the night.
From the earlier talk of mortals, the enchanted fire, and the unearthly quality of all present, Katniss knew she must be dealing with some sort of magical entities. The woods in this part of the world were purportedly full of enchantments.
And one of them had saved her. She didn't' feel ill at ease. Somehow, she knew she could trust the man at her side.
Once they were relatively alone, he turned back to her. "How are you feeling?" he inquired solicitously.
"Better than I have in some time," she breathed.
"I'm glad. I thought my storm claimed your life unfairly for a moment. I can't imagine why you would brave the elements on this of all nights."
He paused expectantly, waiting for a reply. His storm? Could he be a spirit of the weather? And what an explanation was in order! A life almost lost for wildflowers! Instead of answering, she blushed in embarrassment and looked away.
When it was apparent that nothing from her lips would be forthcoming, he touched a finger to the back of her hand to regain her attention. She gave a little shiver at the cool contact and her gray eyes returned to his.
"What are you called?" His words were the soft whisper of wind on powdery snow.
"Katniss."
He smiled knowingly. "Sagittaria. A flower named for the archer constellation, the heavenly body in which the sun transits during my reign. How beautiful."
His words were bewitching, but Katniss didn't completely understand them.
"How are you known?" she asked.
"While my brethren most often call me Twelve, I am formally known as December," he replied. "I don't have a name in the common way, though.
"You may give me one, if you'd like," he offered, with a hopeful lilt to his voice.
Katniss was thoroughly confused. December? At this point, she assumed she was dealing with some form of forest spirits. She had heard fantastical tales of such in her childhood, after all. Glancing around, she noticed there were exactly eleven other individuals at the lake. Could he actually be the corporeal embodiment of the month of December?
He was still waiting in hopeful anticipation. She supposed it was a great honor to name him, whatever he was, but she didn't know all that many names, just the common ones used by fellow villagers. The most whimsical name she'd come across was Gale, and while the man at her side had claimed ownership of a fearsome storm, the tempestuous title didn't seem to fit the concern and kindness she'd seen in his eyes, the caring he'd shown in covering her with furs and staying at her side.
The furs slipped down her shoulders and back as she sat up straighter, accepting the weight of the task. Thinking of all the names she knew, she cast about for the one that sounded the kindest and most generous. Katniss settled upon Peter, surely the sweetest sounding boy's name she knew.
But as she voiced her decision aloud, a chill wind swept past, causing her uncovered shoulders to shake and her teeth to chatter, garbling the end of her pronouncement.
"Peeta it is then," he said happily, his smile as blinding as a winter morning blanketed in fresh snow. He reached over to draw the fur back around her shoulders.
It suited him, she thought.
"I think our meeting and my christening calls for celebration." Peeta's eyes sparkled in excitement. "I hope you'll join me," he added, and suddenly Katniss was surrounded by the biggest holiday feast she'd ever set eyes on.
There was stuffed roasted fowl, hot chestnuts, and mincemeat pie. Cookies, and puddings, and cakes of all kinds. Pots of piping hot chocolate and carafes of mulled wine. Everywhere she looked, there were more delicious treats: marzipan and candied nuts, tangerines and sugar plums.
How was this possible? She didn't know where to begin.
"Here," he said. "Start with these."
Peeta placed two Christmas rolls in her hands, and her first bite revealed the sweet bread was studded with candied fruits and heartily chopped nuts. It was dense and heavy, more like cake than bread really. Katniss had never tasted anything so delicious, and suspected she'd be echoing that thought when sampling each new dish.
Next he poured a mug of hot chocolate and pushed it in her direction. "Try dipping it."
She did so and moaned at the resulting combination of flavors. Bolstered by his encouragement, Katniss heartily dug into the feast before her.
When she could eat no more, she sighed in contented bliss, nourished by all the delicious treats of December. Peeta watched her with a pleased smile as he crunched on a stick of peppermint candy. She observed him in return.
"Do you need to eat?" she couldn't help wondering aloud.
"No," Peeta admitted, "but I certainly enjoy it. Especially considering the edible delights reserved for the time of my reign."
Yes, Katniss supposed that if she could choose a specific time of year for its food, it would definitely be December.
"Tell me about yourself," he prompted.
She shrugged sleepily and laid back, full and satiated. "There's not much to tell. My stepmother would say I'm ungrateful and insolent. I would say I'm stubborn and good with a bow. Otherwise fairly average. Nothing special."
Peeta leaned back on his elbow beside her. "I would have to disagree."
"I have no friends to speak of. Nor family," she whispered sadly. His expression echoed her remorse, and she wondered at her willingness to talk to him. She was usually a rather reluctant speaker.
"What of you? What are your brothers and sisters like?" Perhaps she could determine exactly what she was dealing with here.
"You are familiar with certain aspects of them already. My brethren and I embody the twelve calendar months. We are responsible for the passage of the year, the changing weather, and overseeing the rites of man associated therein. During our respective reigns, we travel the earth, subtly shifting the season to suit our temperament. When we have ruled for one moon, we step aside for the next of us to continue.
"I am last. I wrap up the work my kin has done in preparation for the next cycle of the new year. Physically, I most closely resemble my two eldest siblings, January and February," he added, nodding in the direction of a male and female standing separate and aloof from the rest.
They were similarly pale, but couldn't be further from him in manner. The female had long, white-blonde hair and a harsh beauty, with no glimmer of inner warmth. The male was tall and powerful looking, but his mien spoke of a nature as brutal as a lengthy winter.
"Though to be honest, I get along with April, July and November much better," he admitted.
As if summoned by his words, the abrasive female from before approached and addressed Peeta. "Are you finally ready to continue?" Her eyes swept over Katniss. "She looks fine now, and you called us all here to perform the Midwinter rite. Let's close the year and be done with it! I have better things to do than stand on a frozen lake listening to March prattle incessantly!"
That's right, Katniss thought. It's the winter solstice, the longest night of the year. Many believed the year began anew after this night. That it was a time of rebirth and new beginnings. Reflecting on her anguish earlier and her position of comfort and safety now, she hoped it was so.
"We'll continue shortly Seven," he assured, before looking back at Katniss. "But first I must know what brought you to the woods this night Katniss, and if you require assistance before you return home." His eyes were bright and encouraging.
Katniss' heart sank. She didn't want to go back. She hadn't felt this welcomed, this happy, since her parents and Prim had been alive. She was comfortable with Peeta, she felt cared for and appreciated, even in the scant time they'd interacted. And she was intrigued by his good humor and friendliness. She wanted to see more of it.
Plus, her task would sound so outlandish. Even to a preternatural entity. Her face burned to the roots of her hair, which caught the attention of July, who stuck around to hear her answer.
"I'm in search of galanthus blooms," she admitted.
Peeta's eyebrows rose in surprise, but his reaction was nothing to the resounding bellows of laughter from July. "Galanthus! What are you, brainless?"
Katniss grimaced as July continued, "Four, get over here, you've got to hear this!"
A vigorous man, handsome and alluring with all the virility of spring, was soon at Seven's side. He stooped to pluck a sugar plum from a dish laden with sweets as July spoke.
"Looks like you've got an admirer, because she's looking for galanthus. Guess you'll just have to string her along until spring!"
April flashed her a smile as sparkling and clear as the sky after a sun shower. He offered Katniss the sugar-dusted candy. Once she'd declined, he popped it in his mouth and spoke. "Never fear, little one," he cooed. "They'll be here come spring, I promise."
Sadly, this did nothing to help her. December seemed to sense this, and she felt his cool touch on her hand once more.
"Why do you seek snowdrops?" he asked.
"The ruler of this land has offered a reward in gold for galanthus delivered before yuletide," she explained, as several other months came to see what so amused July and April.
"Foolish mortal! Risking your life out of simple greed! I told you she wasn't worth your time, Twelve!" July crowed.
Peeta glared at the offending woman reproachfully, before looking at Katniss with concern in his eyes. "Do you truly need the gold so badly?"
"It's true I don't have much, but I can still survive. I wouldn't be out tonight, but for my relations demanding a basket of galanthus in exchange for a place by our hearth," Katniss elaborated with no little shame.
Peeta's brow furrowed and his eyes iced over with fury. "Is there no one who takes your well being to heart?
Her resulting silence was his answer.
"We'll get you your galanthus," he swore, determined. And with that he stood up and faced his siblings.
"Before we close this year, I request a final display from each of you, so we can give Katniss the galanthus blooms she needs."
January and February refused outright, their replies hard as ice and sharp as the cold. March looked troubled and April merely shrugged. May glanced slyly to her left to see what June thought, while August, September and October stood pensively. But November smiled.
"Why should we?" July huffed in annoyance.
"Because I know you can't resist the chance to show a 'mere mortal' how powerful you are, Seven," Peeta answered.
"One and Two, how could you hesitate to show your might? You could stretch your legs, exert your powers a little early and give us a preview of the next two moons. Three, a little refresher now may help you decide how fierce or gentle you want your reign to be this year. And Four, can you really resist such a spotlight? She nearly died to see your influence, after all."
Peeta turned to a redheaded woman. "Five, I know you'd love to sneak a little taste of your time into my reign, and Six, think of all those beautiful wildflowers!"
Eight needed little convincing, nodding fondly at both Peeta and Katniss. "Nine and Ten, don't you yearn to see your foliage so soon again? And Eleven," Peeta said with a sly grin, "I know you're always ready for a little mischief!"
As Peeta addressed the eleven months, one by one, Katniss saw his words change them, make them reconsider their stances. He had a way with words, that much was clear, because by the end of his speech, there was not a single objection.
"We'll start at midnight," he decided. "It's not long now."
He returned to her side. "Don't worry Katniss, we'll get you those flowers. I think you'll find the coming hours quite interesting. I'd tell you not to be alarmed, but I have a feeling you're not easily rattled. So instead, I recommend you enjoy the show."
Katniss felt a genuine smile break over her face in gratitude. Peeta's eyes swept her face intently.
"It looked like one of the summer months for a second there," he admitted, gaze settling on her still-smiling lips.
When the time came, January stepped regally onto the ice, the white ermine lining her robes fluttering in the breeze over the lake. When she reached the center, Katniss saw her lips moving, and a cruel wind picked up around them, whipping Katniss' loose hair in all directions. The temperature dropped even further and Katniss huddled into her furs.
A snowstorm kicked up, swirling furiously about them. Peeta leaned over and pulled her to him, wrapping her bundled form in his arms. He didn't add to her warmth, but the snow flurries around them calmed until the surrounding area contained only softly drifting snow, while the blizzard raged beyond.
After a time, Katniss peeked out from under Peeta's arms, and just made out the shape of February striding past onto the lake. Though she couldn't see far enough into the storm to make out his actions, she could tell when his portion of the ceremony was finished, as the wind howled its vehemence that much louder, and the magnitude of the storm intensified.
But still, the flakes danced gently down, settling on their heads and shoulders in cottony puffs as Peeta blanketed them from the storm. Wreathed in his arms, Katniss noticed that while his skin had been cool to begin with, the sections where their bodies met were growing in warmth, heat steadily building between them the longer they were in contact.
She closed her eyes in bliss. Katniss thought she fit perfectly, tucked snugly into Peeta's embrace. It was hard to imagine feeling fear or pain or hunger again, not here.
At length, the winds quieted and the snowfall ceased. Katniss raised her head drowsily, lulled by the safety and warmth she felt in Peeta's arms.
Her eyes widened at the change around her. As the rapidly melting ice began to shift, Three hurried from the lake center, halting from time to time and looking back, as if not convinced the right direction had been taken.
Peeta looked up as well, smiling as he took in her expression of wonder. The ice and snow was dripping off the tree boughs onto the thawing ground, running in rivulets back toward the lake. Every few moments, the progress of the water would be halted as it froze again in its tracks.
"March is a little indecisive," Peeta explained, "about whether to end winter gradually or all at once."
Peeta leaned back, giving her room to get up. She rose to her feet and walked slowly around the lake, taking in the miraculous changes that were being wrought. Her feet alternately slipped on frosty grass and sank into the marshy ground, as the weather continued to vacillate between wintry and vernal.
Eventually, March seemed to settle on more temperate weather, and the chunks of ice left over the lake shrunk rapidly before her eyes.
April brushed past Katniss, drawing his robe from his shoulders, leaving him bare chested. He sent an over exaggerated wink and a devastating smile her way before diving into the brisk water and swimming sleekly to the middle of the lake.
Katniss gazed out over the water, watching the ends of tree branches surrounding the lake grow slowly greener. Further beyond the lake, however, she could see it was still winter, the trees stark white and black, swept by winds.
But around her, the grasses were fresh and green. She could hear the mockingjays perched in the trees at the edge of the clearing, cheerily whistling. She laughed aloud at the wonder of it, spring on Midwinter's night! The sound of her laugh was almost foreign to her ears, so long had it been since she heard it last.
And then, the galanthus came. The snowy blooms sprung up everywhere, dotting the green of the shoreline with a dusting of pure, snowy white.
Katniss turned back to look at Peeta in delight. Who would believe the evening's nightmarish circumstances had brought her here? Alive, comfortable, contented, and witnessing the greatest miracle she'd ever see, surrounded by snowdrop flowers!
Peeta's answering smile was so dazzling she realized she must be grinning at him like a fool, but she couldn't stop. Katniss started toward him,with the vague but insistent impression that she wanted to be as near to him as possible. He nodded to the left though, and Katniss turned to see the basket she'd come with, sitting by the shore right where she'd left it when she collapsed.
Her real purpose returned to her, and after retrieving the basket, she stooped and began to gather.
*~*~ end part one ~*~*
Author's Note: This story is based off of the slavic fairytale "The Twelve Months," but more closely follows a cartoon adaptation I watched as a child (which can be easily found on youtube by searching 'twelve months cartoon,' and is quite cute).
Katniss' tale is not over yet! The second and final installment will (hopefully) be up on Dec. 21st, the winter solstice! Please come back and see what happens!
Galanthus nivalis are actually early blooming spring flowers and can be found peeking out of the snow in some places as early as January, all the way to May. This would not help Katniss however, because it's still only December. I wanted the snowdrops to appear in April, in keeping with the adaptation I remembered, so we'll assume she lives in a part of the world where galanthus doesn't bloom in a major way until then.
The cover picture is a condensed version of a manipulation I made. The larger version can be seen on my tumblr (ghtlovesthg), in the art section under 'story art' if anyone is so inclined.
Thank you for reading, and please consider leaving a review. :)