Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

This story is the sequel to "Spectator" it is pretty important that you read that first. Also there will be events and people mentioned in the side story "Forgotten" which will be relevant here. So without further ado…

Participant
By FanficAllergy

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Chapter One

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I sit in the abandoned kitchen of my old house in the Seam that I'd once shared with my mother and sister, a cup of rapidly cooling chamomile tea in my hands. Technically, it's still my mother's house and if anything happens to my sister, she'd be expected to leave the massive house in the Victor's Village and return to the only place I've ever felt at home.

But it'll never be my home again.

Even if my husband dies, I won't return here. There's an abandoned business on the edge of the main street in town in my name. Peeta and I have talked about me setting up shop selling herbal remedies with my mother and sister. But so far it's only been just that - talk.

For sixteen years, this little house in the Seam has been home, and four and a half months of living in the house in the Victor's Village with my husband isn't enough to change that feeling.

Taking a sip of of my tepid tea, I repeat the litany I've chanted every morning since we returned to District Twelve. My name is Katniss Mellark. My home is District Twelve. My sister and husband survived the Hunger Games. I have a daughter named Pulcheria who everyone calls Willow. She's the culmination of the love shared by Peeta and me, the two star-crossed lovers from District Twelve.

The last is a lie.

My daughter isn't my husband's. I've never tried to hide that from him. Peeta knew before he married me that my child wasn't his, but he's claimed her regardless. Willow's actual father has had to settle for being her godfather and honorary uncle. Gale's got his own part to play and it doesn't include being Willow's father.

And so do I.

The country is on the verge of revolution. President Snow is counting on me to stop Peeta from fanning the flames.

I'm not sure how he expects me to do it.

Haymitch suspects that Snow thinks that Peeta's love for me will keep him in line. Keep him scared. I don't know if Snow's threatened him too, but I wouldn't put it past him.

So much has changed since the Reaping almost six months ago. I've changed. Grown even more cautious, more wary. I have more to lose now. More people who I love that the Capitol can use against me. I've never been good at friends. Madge and Gale were the only people outside of my family who could tolerate me until my trip to the Capitol during the Games. There, I met several people who tried to help me, guide me, protect me, even though it meant putting themselves in danger to do it. They say that friendships forged under fire create bonds even stronger than diamond and I've found it's true. I think of Peeta and Haymitch as friends, and as much as the latter tries to deny it I think they feel the same. But sometimes I find myself missing Finnick, Cecelia, Cinna, and Effie. They were there for me when I needed them and the carefully worded phone calls do nothing to ease that ache.

It's not just me who's changed.

Gale's changed too.

My best friend's grown up. He's no longer as impulsive and angry like he used to be. He says it's because he's learned a bit more about the world, but I also wonder how much of it has to do with my other friend's influence. He and the Mayor's daughter have become very close, in some ways closer than either of them ever were to me. The old me would be jealous, but I'm happy he's got someone else. Not because I'm altruistic, but because it takes the pressure off of me.

I also feel guilty when it comes to Gale. I've always said I never wanted to get married or have kids, yet here I am, a wife and mother. Gale and I always used to think, before I got pregnant, we'd get married eventually. But the Capitol and President Snow changed all that. I can tell it bothers Gale sometimes, being unable acknowledge his daughter. I don't blame him. It bothers me. I don't like lying. I'm not very good at it. And this lie is a doozy.

Gale tells me he understands, and I honestly think he does. It surprises me, but ever since he's become the Mayor's assistant, he's matured. There are times I almost don't recognize him anymore. He spends so much time with the Mayor and the new Head Peacekeeper, Captain Miner, that I barely get a chance to see him. He's so busy with this new project that's taking place on the far side of town, on the other side of the mines. When I do see him, he's extremely tight-lipped about what's going on.

Even our former refuge is often barred to us. The electric fence surrounding District Twelve is on more often than not, separating us from the woods. And when the electricity is off, Captain Miner often has patrols stationed along the perimeter. I asked Gale about it once, wondering if she was doing it to try to keep us from slipping under.

But he shook his head.

"It's not that, Catnip," he said. "Miner's a professional. It's her job to protect the Capitol's assets, which in her mind means she needs to protect the district and everyone within it. She's seen the packs of wild dogs and bears that roam these woods and she's decided it's her responsibility to make sure that these dangerous animals don't terrorize our citizenry."

"It sounds like you admire her." I wasn't able to keep the disbelief out of my voice.

"I respect her. That's more than I can say for her predecessor," Gale retorted, referring to Cray.

"At least Cray allowed me to hunt!"

"True," he conceded, running his hands through his hair. "But Miner's not so bad. She could be taking her revenge out on us for spawning the tribute who killed her daughter, but she's not. As much as I'm sure she hates Peeta for killing Clove, she's trying to trying to help us instead. I respect that, Catnip. That takes a lot of integrity. Even if it means we can't hunt."

The fact that Gale uses words like citizenry and integrity shows just how much he's changed. Gale's not the same person that he was. He's still my best friend and the father of my daughter, but he's changed.

He's not the only one.

Prim's also changed. My sister, who was once so sweet and innocent, has slowly become hard and jaded. She has nightmares now. She doesn't like to talk about them. Not to me at least. But she talks to Peeta, and he tells me that she dreams of being bathed in blood and watching everyone she cares for die while her body transforms into some kind of monster.

I used to be so close to my little sister. She was the only person in the world that I was sure I loved for so very long. I still love Prim. But that little girl who used to baby Buttercup and nanny Lady has died. That innocent, gentle girl is another casualty of the Games. The person who returned wears Prim's face, but she's not the same.

I think Haymitch and Finnick tried to warn me that the Games change people. I thought I understood what they meant. I found out I really had no idea.

The only person who really seems to make Prim smile is my daughter.

My daughter makes us all smile.

Willow's a sweet baby. Quiet. Small. She was born almost two months ago, on September 30th. She came early, but Snow, much to my surprise and displeasure, had been sending doctors to visit me on a regular basis and had ordered my mother to phone them at the first sign of labor.

My daughter was born in Peeta's house in the Victor's Village, but unlike most people in Twelve, she had a whole team of physicians ready and waiting for her arrival. It was probably a good thing. The doctors said she was small, underweight, and that her lungs, while fully developed, weren't ready for the hard task of breathing in and out this thinner mountain air. My daughter spent the first few days in a special bed until the physicians were certain she was going to live.

I received a phone call from President Snow on October 2nd, congratulating me on the birth of Pulcheria. It was the first time I knew what my daughter had actually been named.

President Snow himself said, "It was not the name I would have chosen, I'm far fonder of Cordelia or Hippolyta as a name, but, alas, the public has spoken, and one must always keep the public happy."

The way he said it reminded me of the deal we'd struck the day he announced I was getting married. So long as I managed to keep Peeta from encouraging the country to rebel, Snow would keep my family safe… a family which included my daughter and sister, but did not, I realized later, include my husband.

I wonder now if that was what Haymitch was so frustrated by when I made the deal with Snow over tea in the conservatory. If he thinks I should have bargained for Peeta's life too. I'm just not used to playing the game and I wonder just how much my inexperience is going to haunt us.

Peeta's been a good husband to me, as much as I expect anyone forced into marriage to be. We're not lovers, but in the months we've been living together, we've formed a sort of friendship. We were essentially two strangers when we got married, and it takes time to get to know each other.

The first time I felt actually close to him was when he sat with me for the whole twenty eight hours I was in labor. My mother was barred from the room by the Capitol doctors, proclaiming only my husband could remain in the delivery room. So Peeta stayed. He tried to give me what comfort and encouragement he could. I'd never felt that much pain or fear before. I'm grateful Peeta was there.

It seems strange to think about, but in a weird way, becoming parents brought us closer together. Peeta's an amazing father and he loves Willow. I know he told me he'd be a good dad to her, but part of me never really believed him.

That part of me was wrong.

I think Peeta considers Willow his, but he's also good enough, kind enough, that he's trying to share her with Gale.

A week after the Capitol doctors packed up and left, I woke up to find Peeta and the baby missing. I was frantic. Had Snow stolen my husband and baby? I searched the house like a madwoman, tearing up the place until I found a note on my bedside table. Sinking to the ground in relief, I read the simple message. Peeta had taken Willow to the Hawthornes. He wanted Gale to meet his daughter, someplace where the Capitol's eyes couldn't watch. Snow would love to learn the identity of Willow's real father. It's one of my goals to make sure he never finds out.

When he returned, Peeta didn't talk about what transpired between him and Gale. Gale won't say anything either. I think during that meeting, the two men came to an understanding.

I'm glad. It's hard enough being a new mother and subsisting on minimal sleep. I don't have the energy or patience to deal with conflict between my husband and the father of my child.

I've got my own worries to deal with.

Yesterday, the Capitol doctor who's been overseeing my care informed me that I'm now clear to, quote, 'resume my sexual activities and no longer need to follow any pelvic bed rest instructions.' The fact that he said it in front of Peeta made it even more embarrassing. We've only just started really getting to know each other. I don't know if either of us is ready to have sex.

All I know is, I'm not.

I take another sip of my tea to find it's gone ice cold. I shiver, not entirely from the temperature, and stare down at the liquid morosely.

"Katniss?" Peeta's voice comes from the front door. "Are you here?"

I glance up and see my husband standing just inside the entryway to my old home. He looks curious and a little bit uncomfortable. He always seems a little uncomfortable around me, like he's not sure how to act or what to say. And sometimes, at night, I feel his body shaking beside me. I don't know if it's only from the nightmares, which he has regularly, or if it's from something else. But all I can do is hold him tight and try to comfort him the best I can.

We're in this together now.

Whatever this is.

I smile at him. "Yeah, I'm here."

He comes over to me and sits down at the chair across the table. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Wasn't sure if you'd be here or in the Meadow."

He's talking about the woods. The Meadow is a code that was created to prevent anyone from figuring out my illegal proclivities. When we first got back, Peeta found me in the Meadow, staring at the electrified fence with tears in my eyes. My safe haven had been taken from me. I was surprised to find out that Peeta understood my loss. Together with Gale, the two men got me a trapping permit so when I could go out under the fence, any kills I made would be considered legal. I appreciate their kindness.

But it's just been hard.

I shake my head and tell him, "Didn't seem much of a point. I can't gather much when everything's trampled." I look up, meeting his blue eyes. "So why'd you come looking for me?"

He shrugs. "The official reason is that Willow needs to get fed and someone needed to find you."

"And the real reason?"

"I wanted someone to talk to." He smiles at me tenderly, reaching out to finger my braid. "And I couldn't think of anyone better than you."

"Flirt."

"Well, if a man can't flirt with his wife, who can he flirt with?" Peeta retorts, the smile actually reaching his eyes.

This easy camaraderie has been hard earned, but I'm glad for it. It makes being married to him easier. Not that being married to Peeta is all that hard. He doesn't put any pressure on me. Whatever I'm willing to give is what he's willing to take. I have to remember some of the advice I've received from Effie and Cinna, as well as the other Victors, to give this gentle boy a chance. Peeta's in love with me and he's just as much of a victim in this whole thing as I am, if not more.

I stand up, getting myself together, and hold out my hand to him. "Come on. Let's go home."

He takes it, his large hand dwarfing mine. As we walk, we talk about little things, inconsequential things.

"Who's watching Willow?" I ask.

"She's at your mom's."

It's a fair question. The shoemaker's daughter, Delly Cartwright, is Willow's main nanny. The sweet blond haired girl loves babies and she's very good with my sometimes cranky daughter. Madge is Willow's godmother and is often over to see her goddaughter.

Hazelle also often comes and looks after her granddaughter. Peeta hired her soon after we returned from the Capitol to be Haymitch's and our housekeeper. It was Peeta's idea. He knew that Hazelle would never take charity and this was something he could do to help out someone I cared about.

Honestly, Haymitch needed the housekeeper more than we did. But as my stomach grew, and after I gave birth, it was nice to know that I didn't have to worry about trying to keep the house clean and my family fed. And also this way Hazelle gets to spend time with her granddaughter while still keeping the truth of Willow's parentage a secret.

"So what have you been up to this morning?" I ask him.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Working on my talent and trying to forget why I need to bother having a talent in the first place."

I squeeze his hand, letting him know that I'm here. I think it's cruel that the Capitol forces its Victors to rub their new lifestyle in the noses of their home districts. Victors are required to develop a talent, a special artistic or some other almost useless skill they can show off in the Capitol. Prim's talent is flower arranging and she spends most of her time wandering around Twelve looking for interesting materials and plants that she can use in her arrangements. Her specialty is medicinal herb wreaths. She makes lovely, aromatic wreaths that are apparently in high demand in the Capitol. I smile a bit at the irony. In the Capitol, lavender and rosemary are herbs or weeds, but when my sister forms them into wreaths they somehow magically become art. Prim finds it weird, but at least it makes her smile.

Peeta and I have been working on our talent too. A little bit before our wedding, Finnick pulled the two us aside and told us that I, too, was expected to develop a talent even though I wasn't a Victor. I don't have the same pressure that Peeta and Prim do, but I was still expected to show off my gratitude to the Capitol in some way. He helped Peeta and me come up with the idea of making children's storybooks. The first book, an illustrated version of various lullabies called 'Mockingjay Songs,' has apparently been a bestseller in the Capitol. Peeta and I worked on the book during my last month of pregnancy, and the doctors and other Capitol hangers-on took the final draft with them when they returned to the Capitol after Willow was born.

Our next project is an old rags to riches story about a poor Seam girl who falls in love with the Head Peacekeeper's rich bastard son. It's based on a real story, and the real ending wasn't so happy. But it sounds enough like a fairytale that the Capitol should eat it up.

"What part are you up to?" I ask.

"Trying to decide if we want to include the hanging tree section or not."

This story was the basis for the old song 'The Hanging Tree.' But I don't think the Capitol would appreciate hearing about how Aron was lynched to get back at his father and Tessa hung herself next to him in despair. Yeah. That'd go over well.

I shake my head. "Yeah, um, as much as the Capitol likes star-crossed lovers," I say pointedly, "I think they'd rather have a happy ending."

"Wouldn't we all?" Peeta replies.

I look up at him. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Katniss, it's not your fault," he tells me, his voice stricken. "None of this is your fault."

"Can't I still feel bad?"

"I can't stop you." He takes a deep breath and stares off into the distance. "Part of me hates that there are these moments when I forget what happened. Like when I look at you and Willow I'm sometimes overwhelmed with happiness. And then I remember just how this happiness was earned and…" He trails off.

I stop for a second, slipping my arms around him comfortingly like I used to do to Prim. Snow picked the perfect punishment for a good man like him, and I can't help but hate the president even more than I did before for putting him and us through this.

"It's okay to be happy. You've earned it. If anyone's earned it, you've earned it," I tell him not for the first time, stroking his back lightly. "You're a good husband. You're a good father. I don't think Willow could ask for a better father." I'm not just saying that to make him feel better. He adores my little girl and prefers to take the late night feedings and diaper changes just so I can get as much of a full night's sleep as possible. I still have to feed Willow, and I don't trust the formula the Capitol provided. But Peeta tries to pretty much do everything else.

"She smiled at me today," Peeta says, letting me know that the moment of weakness has passed.

"Are you sure it wasn't gas?"

Peeta chuckles, pulling back from me and taking my hand again so we can resume our walk back to the Victor's Village. "Nah, it was a smile. She liked the song I was singing to her."

I make a face at the thought of Peeta's singing. "I'm glad someone did."

"I can't wait until she's older and I can embarrass her by singing her the lambkin song in front of her boyfriend."

"You're assuming she's gonna have a boyfriend."

"Or girlfriend," Peeta says quickly. "Although she's not allowed to date until she's forty."

"When did that decision get made?"

He grins at me. "Just now."

"And you think she's going to go along with it?"

"I've always looked forward to being a 'do as I say and not as I do' parent."

"Let me know how that works out."

My mother and Prim's house is right across the street from ours. It's close, but not so close that we can hear each other's screams when Peeta sleeps with the window open, which he does every single night. It wasn't too bad during the summer and early fall. But lately I've had to start sleeping closer to my husband for warmth. I'm just grateful Willow is finally able to sleep in a room adjoining ours where I can keep the door and windows shut so it's warmer.

I knock on the door to my mother's house and my sister opens it a moment or two later. Prim's eyes are wide and she looks like she's had a nightmare.

I drop Peeta's hand. "What's wrong, Little Duck?" I say, taking a step forward to gather my sister into my arms.

She shakes her head, pointing me toward the back of the house and the room that holds Willow's cradle.

My eyes go wide and I feel Peeta stiffen beside me. Something's wrong with our daughter.

We run to see what's wrong with our baby, and as soon as I enter the room, I see why Prim is so scared.

Standing there in an impeccable white suit with a bright red flower boutonniere is President Coriolanus Snow.

And he's holding our daughter.

oOo

AN:
Written: 7/1/15
Revised: 8/2/15
Revised 2: 9/11/15
Revised 3: 9/16/15
Betaread by RoseFyre & AmelinaZenitram

Hi!

I'm back! I'm going to try to keep to my old update schedule of every other week on Sunday for Participant.

This story wouldn't have been written if it weren't for the amazing RoseFyre. She actually took my dictation for the initial rough draft in addition to her betareading duties. So literally, this story wouldn't have been written without her. Also a lot of thanks to AmelinaZenitram who took over primary betaing duties.

Please leave a review letting me know what you think!