Summary:
Katniss believed it would be romantic to be loved by a nobleman until she closed the book that is. So one must never read the epilogue, because that's when all the passion dwindles. But when her wealthy aunt Effie grants her a season to meet the eligible men of Panem, her choice may be further solidified when the first eligible man - peeta Mellark - lacking in pedigree, offers to bestow more that what a gentleman is to her. And perhaps with time he could show her that rather than reading a book for women like her, she could write a book for children, maybe even her own? Maybe, even - with him?
Katniss pov
With a sigh plagued with regret I shut my newest romantic literature book: The Great Gatsby, being careful to keep it in pristine condition with no pages bent lest someone discover the book and know I've read it. It's time to rid my imagination of the frivolous and devoted Gatsby and the young Daisy shown upon a dark green background - my favourite colour - nevertheless I must move on with my day and end these distractions from further manipulating my thoughts.
Smiling, I uncurl myself from the worn loveseat and with a yawn I stretch my arms above my head before dropping them loosely back to my sides. It's not like I can be blamed though, dark sinister palaces are much more preferable to dream of than cold, damp alleyways and outdated houses, and perhaps the noblemen aren't such a bore either.
The harsh rain pours down outside the window, each droplet making a soft splat onto the roof causing the temperature in the room to drop slightly as the house was never properly insulated. Then with a gentle crackle, the flame dies out and the wood in the fireplace starts to chill instantly and grow damp as the remnants of a spark float into the air to flicker out. Shivering, I carefully lay the book on the small wooden table that's stationed between the loveseat and the fireplace, before picking up the dishtowel. The material itself is a plaid red from an old dress I used to own, but due to financial issues and my sister growing up too quickly to wear it, the cloth now functions as any other rag.
"Scoot" I say, swiping at the cat on the fireplace with the dishtowel. Buttercup - my sister's pet cat - leaps off, as ungraceful as I am, landing on the floor with a thump leaving me to clean away the stray yellow hairs from his muddy coloured fur coat that was left behind. Smiling, I stroll around the room sweeping surfaces and the occasional décor; picture frames, a clock on the mantelpiece. Now I may not be a romantic heroine, but that doesn't mean I can't be a lady - no, a duchess. Yes that seems more fitting. Only someone of that calibre would have the time to polish and dust their luxuries. Then, perhaps like any true lady, I could leave the house and find a dashing gentleman on the porch. One that wouldn't flee at the sight of me. The novels seem to have plenty of those.
"Yes! I hope that if and when the day comes for a man to be brought into this house, he despises you" I say to the cat as he rests his head on his paws. "So don't go and try to get him to like you". He doesn't respond but his ears lower. Fear. That's what I suppose it is. He can hear the storm. Sighing I shove the dishtowel into my waist apron that's tied around my navy blue chiffon off-the-shoulder floor length gown.
Once I've circled the room once, which in all honesty takes barely a minute, I return to pick up one of the only small picture frames. "A picture of myself mother!" I joke to myself holding the frame to my chest as I gaze at the ceiling. "Oh", I whisper, "the vanity is strong with this one".
The image itself seems as grey and soulless as myself, or so I'm told in jest. It's like looking into a smudged window, gazing at the display behind it. My straight black hair had been finger combed by my father in a hurry and he'd put it into two braids, messily secured with some ribbon. Even my grey eyes were wide open, a smile cuddled by two pink cheeks. Perhaps it's better that I favor darker, more mysterious colours like black, grey and olive than the typical blonde, blue eyed child that the nation's enthralled with. It's almost as if we could afford to have a picture in colour. A scuffling draws my attention away and I watch as Buttercup jumps onto the windowsill. I put the picture down and whistle...
He ignores me. "But you don't even like the rain" I whine as he leans up to swipe his paws against the window. I huff at his useless attempt to escape. This is the reason our curtains have to be tied up and pulled to the side. My family would have a fit if a piece of threading came loose from the material so who knows what claw marks would do to them. "Look I think the rain may let up soon. I'll take you out then". He meows. Sighing I spin around, trying to ignore how the rain is dwindling, leaving dark clouds looming over the house. Buttercup leaps down and follows me, nudging my legs to make me move faster.
Delaying, I lean back and swipe the book off of the table. Madge would never lend me another book for a week if I caused damaged this one, and it's not like I can afford them or that I even have access to them. Shutting the parlour door - which, is just a living room despite my aunt's ideas - behind me, I yelp, instantly slapping a palm over my mouth to silence the noise as three mounds of fur smack into me before they attempt to tackle me to the ground. I steady myself on the doorframe just as Buttercup hisses at the mutts. They act like they haven't seen me for weeks, I fed them just this morning!
"Was that you closing the door Katniss?" a buxom figure says softly from the top of the stairs as she cinches her dressing gown.
"Yes Aunt Ocatvia. I'm sorry for waking you but I've no wish to stay in the room cleaning the cat's fur from the furniture all morning, and what with Buttercup prowling around I thought it might be better if we left the room".
"Oh that's alright dear" she says, her lips lifting with an undeniable sweetness. I smile at her appearance; her face is washed clean of makeup, making her look more youthful and her natural hair lays ruffled around her shoulders - unhidden by her usual array of wigs and headwear - though that may be because of the early hour. "I just wanted to make sure the mice didn't escape".
Since Aunt Octavia's last trip to the heart of Panem, she brought home a collection of seven mice. Simply because at the time they were staying in her room so they soon served as her own companions. The only difference is that whenever they were seen someone or something would try to get rid of them. I think she just prefers stubborn creatures to be honest, but then again maybe they don't see her as their own snow white because they're constantly 'escaping'.
"They haven't. It's okay though, I've been watching buttercup" I reply. She nods, focusing her gaze on Buttercup who waits by my side. Without looking I can tell he's getting restless, because I can feel his tail brushing around my legs repeatedly, too weak to drag me away. He's like a child pressing on my legs so that I'll commit my time to more urgent matters - namely his freedom to roam. One more I suppose. Though I'd be more than happy to grant it if I could rid the house of all these animals. Just more food to go to waste.
Her white robe sways slightly around her legs as she comes down the stairs. "That's awful good of you dear. With a brain like yours I tend to wonder why you even stick around with us old biddies".
"At least you're not Trinket".
"And rightfully so" she says with a smirk, stopping herself from laughing "or I'd be hounding you all day".
When she reaches the bottom of the stairs she ties her auburn hair up into a messy bun. "It's smart not to listen to Venia's nonsense. Having only the parlour as a room for when you require peace? Nonsense! Honestly, I don't know how she finds fault with you child" she says, finishing her rant softly.
I glance down at my dress; therein lies the issue. Aunt Venia's often complained about the state of my attire, deeming my appearance as 'rough'. If she was here now she'd be badgering me about the guise I'm showing and how it's scaring my suitors away.
"I suppose I'd better go check if Flauvis has any tea left. This stress is really getting to me my dear. I've broken a nail! And a quill! Can you believe it?" she questions before explaining that as she was counting our finances, her quill broke.
"I must admit dear that I was tempted to tip the ink over and pretend we'd lost the accounts! If only they'd believe it" she states.
A meow sounds through the room. "Well I was just going to take Buttercup outside. I can check to see if Madge's father has any spare, throw away quills?".
"Oh yes! That'd be grand" she says, following me into the kitchen. Based on the prices nowadays, we need to save as much as possible so any excess expenditure should be kept for times when we're in need. Not that she wouldn't know though. Having seen our current balance is probably the reason why she told me about the quills. Usually she'd just go and buy them herself or ask one of my other aunts, so this is like a warning of sorts. It must be getting dire.
Two loud thumps echo, so I rush over to the wooden back door and swing it open, catching it just before it can bang against the wall.
On the doorstep stands a man. Although, if he wasn't given a second glance - and I wouldn't imagine he often is - then it would be easy to assume that he were just a mere boy - malnourished even - especially due to his choice of profession.
"Letter for Everdeen" he announces.
"Right" I state, "let me just get the money if you cou-".
"Oh I'll do it dear!" Octavia's voice resounds as she scurries up the stairs. I smile as her retreating figure disappears from sight. Of course she'd do it. A man shows up at the door and as one of my guardians, she looks... well normal. That to her wouldn't be enough to draw them in, despite it only being a messenger.
"I think double is more suffice" he calls out after her, leaning into the doorway.
I step forward and cross my arms, tilting my head in question. "Did you sail here?".
He shifts, visibly uncomfortable and tries to squeeze some of the rain out of the sleeve of his damp blue suit. The only thing he's succeeding in is making a puddle on the steps. The man hides something behind his back.
"No" he scoffs, trying to appear confident, yet only making himself seem more arrogant "But not only did I bring a letter but a gift for the lad-hey!". He startles as the gifts are swiped from his grasp. The grinning face I've come to know moves in front, presenting them with a flourish.
"S'cuse me Miss, but I believe Marvel was trying to swindlen you out of ye money". I take the gifts with a smile and ignore the grumbles of the man leaving.
"Thank you Darius". I flinch at the noise of my Aunt bounding down the stairs.
"I've got it!" a shrill voice sings.
I glance over as she rushes to stand beside me. "You got changed" I mummer unsurprised.
Her natural hair is hidden beneath a cherry-coloured shoulder length wig adorned with a white headband that has mouse cage designs imprinted onto it.
"Well I didn't know there would be guests" she hisses, paying Darius for his helpfulness.
Thanking her, he finishes our conversation with a glance at me. "Well I'm glad to be of service mam".
"Someday I hope" she says wistfully.
I roll my eyes and feel a tug at the waist of my dress. Caught again. Apparently it's rude to be defensive because when it comes to the topic of my potential motherhood, well now that's not inappropriate. I'd beg to differ, but with two middle-aged women and an uncle? Well there's a lot of voices being heard. Besides, my throat's still sore from the last argument so I think I'll sit the small fights out. It's a shame we can't be physical in this house...
Sometimes I wonder how any of my aunt's even have flaws left to see in me, that they haven't criticised. So it's usually a surprise when all they have to say about me to any hopeful gentleman caller (which is usually any may who looks at me before casting a smile in their direction) is compliments - then again there hasn't been many of either of those. Any really.
With a smile he dashes around the street corner - his messy red hair curling up beneath his white flat cap from the wind.
I reach upwards automatically and tuck a stray hair back under my white cap. Making sure it's secure, I pull the strings tighter. Presentable? Yes. Modest? Always. Marketable? Unfortunately.
Aunt Octavia looks at me.
She raises an eyebrow.
I huff. "Too old" I say excusing myself. I hear the door shut behind me as she follows.
"He looks about your age".
"He's in his twenties Auntie. So quit it, I don't need another Effie". I yelp and glance down. Buttercup moves his claws away from my leg choosing instead to scratch his ear. "Sorry", I whisper remembering that he was supposed to go out. "Blame the woman".
Shifting the items so that the parcel is at the top, I read the return address.
Central Panem - sent via Captain Heavensbee of the golden cornocopia.
"Octavia!" I call out, glimpsing behind me, only then realising she's already passed and is currently pouring herself some leftover, albeit, still fresh tea. "It's from Aunt Trinket".
The mutts rush past me and surround my usual chair by the wooden table. Mindlessly I pat each of their heads. What could she possibly want now?
It must not be too important as she's always preferred to visit us in person. Any chance to flaunt her wealth is a must. Probably another rumour.
It is fitting though: simple gossip discussed over breakfast at the wooden kitchen table by my two aunts and uncles. It's like being cast in their own soap opera - except none of them smoke.
"Who was at the door, dear?" Uncle Flavius asks before pausing. "Sugar?".
Before I have a chance to reply he uses the stirrer from his tea to scrape at the hardened sugar in the glass bowl. Money must be even tighter than I thought and extra expenditure is non-existent. I make a mental note to buy more sugar, though based on the cost it'll likely be only a small amount. It's preferable for taste but I can afford to waste anything, besides my family may need an energy boost at one point. Or possibly a strong herbal tea to shock them back into reality when they see our financial issues - provided they haven't already.
Even mint leaves and such are a rarity because not only are they costly but when found they're usually used for their health benefits.
"No. I er... I'm fine thank you". He raises his eyebrows creating deep furrows in his brow. It's clear that he's aware that this isn't my usual drink.
He nods - in understanding I suppose - before putting down the stirrer and continuing to drink his tea. Lowering the cup I notice that he's mouth is stained purple. A colour he loves that is treated similarly to the lavish lifestyle he tries to have and thus he attempts to replicate it in any way he can. Even going so far as to use what extra money he has to buy food colouring - a liquified version of the food colouring paste a decorator may use in a bakery - to put in his beverages.
I sit in the empty chair and put The Great Gatsby on the table. "It was the messenger - Marvel I believe his name was - though Darius seemed to know him quite well so how I never knew his name I'm unsure of".
Aunt Venia holds out a thin arm, clicking as she speaks, "You need to pay attention child! No wonder you have so many questions! Come, come! Give them here". I lean over and slide the gifts to her, sitting down properly before she can rebuke me further.
She reads over the address like I did. It's common to let the oldest person in the room open the mail. An entitlement I've grown up knowing, so it's no surprise when she slowly begins to analyse the package.
Aunt Octavia lifts her cup and takes a sip of her tea. I mirror her.
"Oh will you just read it?" Flavius complains.
I take a small sip of the tepid beverage and blanch at the insipid taste.
Aunt Octavia turns to me just as I crinkle my nose. She lets out a puff of air, just shy of a laugh.
"What do you think?".
"Horrible" I whisper trying not to spit the liquid back into the cup. I need my sugar.
"Not that. The gifts".
"Seems mundane". She makes a noise of indignation at me but says nothing else.
Aunt Venia reaches for the stirrer and uses it to split open the envelope messily, before ripping it, careless about the contents despite Octavia's plea to be careful. I act indifferent regardless of my piqued curiosity. Aunt Trinket hasn't had contact with us for four years, I'd assumed she became to busy. Then again when she did speak to us, she seemed quite obsessed with me for some reason. Maybe that's why I was so uneasy around her. Venia tips the envelope over.
"Goodness!".
"Oh my...".
"What a day!".
I can scarcely blink whilst my relatives exclaim in joyful shock as a small pin is dropped onto the table mercilessly.
"Its simply stunning" Flavius says astounded, when the clattering of metal against wood has silenced. "We can buy a goat with this! I've known we've needed one for seasons".
Venia grasps the burnished pin to examine it, tilting it this way and that.
"Don't break it!", Octavia squeals.
"Don't" I agree quietly, though I doubt anyone can hear me. My throat feels parched. My head light. I breathe in and shift to stop my head from lolling onto the table. This could set us up with bread for months. I lean onto my elbows, supported by the table.
"What is it?" she asks, leaning over her cup towards Venia.
"Oh sit, sit!" comes the reply.
"Made of finely crafted gold, I'd say" Flavius whispers. He drains his tea and slams the cup down before running his hand through his orange corkscrew curls. He watches, eyes focused intently on the object in Venia's hands.
"What do you think, Katniss?" a soft voice asks.
"Mmm" I mumble, wishing she'd quit asking for my thoughts for just this once. My tone reeks of suspicion. "Such good fortune. What a token to bestow." I pause at my words. What am I saying? I can't keep this. I remember the account books and bid the gift goodbye. Its going to be sold anyway. No point being too grateful when a payment would have saved us time. Not that I would have accepted it though. I sniff. The pin reflects the daylight into my eyes.
"Go to the hob" Venia demands staring at me. I'm about to ask why when Octavia asks on my behalf. "Because she looks ragged. Throw some rags on, you'll fit right in". I nod slowly, attempting to focus again.
"The umm... the letter" I whisper, "What does it say?".
My aunt tugs a single sheet of parchment paper from the envelope, oddly enough the force used is as if the letter never wanted to be revealed in the first place. She unfolds it and makes a comment about Trinket speaking too much about fellow memsahibs and unfathomable tales of men from war. "Goodness. Effie seems to be breaking her contract with the presumable Mr Trinket! I guess the arranged wedding must have been a right nightmare to halt. Not to mention...", she glances again at the envelope and shrieks, "This letter is late! She's coming soon - oh very soon! Those pesky men can never deliver on time. Octavia clear the table. I haven't the time for such nonsense. Go on Katniss and hurry up, its time to prepare.". Her eyes fix on my dumbfounded expression, "Do you hear me dear? Are you ready?".
The beige walls of the underground 'black market' are stained with splatters the colour of black coal. I dodge the half-filled boxes of dried blood and tattered clothing before weaving in and out of the bustling crowd. The whistle of the train that once ran above still echoes in my mind and I shiver, remembering the gust of wind that would rush down here every time it sped past.
This old coal warehouse is hidden away and was reopened 74 years ago by some retiring coal miners who were desperate for some extra money. Now, since the prohibition of selling items and food second hand, many middle class families choose not to associate themselves with it, thus leaving it legally 'abandoned' by the central government of Panem, who chose to instead focus their attention on charities that better the wealthy part of the nation and make the leaders look better.
"Fancy seeing you here" a voice calls. I lick my lips and hand the bowl back over to greasy Saw, a dear friend of my father. "You done sampling yet? Wondering off with my bowls when I've got a kettle full of rhubarb stew. Girlie, with the amount you've been eating I'll have none for the customers." she complains before smirking, showing a hint of teeth.
"Sorry" I start before she can interrupt. I know she genuinely doesn't mind me eating, especially after I devoured two bowls of the sweet and tangy stew. It helps her at least, but I still feel guilty about wandering off. If I'm going to eat her food then I should sit and talk to her like I used too before I had to start dressing up everyday. "It's your fault for making me eat when I'm stressed".
"Makes me wonder why your so small then.". I don't answer, uncomfortable that she's aware of our financial state and the effect it has on us - physically that is. I guess my father didn't tend to hide things from her. I adjust my deep green hooded cape-coat to make sure she can't see how small the dress I'm wearing is.
I ask her what she plans to cook later on to divert her attention away from my slim size.
"Dunno. It was brought over last night. Never mind though, once it's in the soup, I'll call it beef".
"You don't care?", I ask.
"I'm not picky".
"So they can't be?" I ask. She chuckles and gestures towards her stall, the smile leaving her face.
"Come here I wanna show you something".
I follow her, noticing her bony figure too small under clothes. I don't make a comment on it. I understand.
"Wha-".
"A new butcher came and went the other day. Now old Rooba's back on the stall and she needed something to trade. Gave me this 'ere goat. The poor fellow ain't too good". She gestures to a baby goat hidden behind her stall and indicates it's mauled shoulder and small size. "And I'd feel bad cooking it up. She'd get butchered terribly. I know you can't fatten her up, but I got this job to do. So I figured you could fix her up a bit? Might get some good milk and cheese out of her. Share a bit with me from time to time and she's all yours. Consider it a gift. You don't owe me nothing till you got extra, but you gotta take real good care of her. I don't want to think that the old woman got the best deal out of the two of us.".
"And if I don't - get extra that is" I say, too shocked. Every time I tried to interrupt her to refuse she'd shush me and I'd glance back towards the limp creature, knowing how close its fate is.
"Well I got a couple more years ahead of me so I'll wait". I lean down and brush my fingertips over a small leather collar around her neck, torn and as ragged as she is. I nod slowly, too ashamed to look at Sae. Why wouldn't she just get Rooba to cut the goat up? I doubt it could produce anything with the state it's in.
"You're too good to me" I force out, straining to keep the bitterness out of my voice lest I seem ungrateful. I reach into my pocket and pull out the pin Venia gave me.
"My aunt's coming around. Effie that is. I can't tell you how thankful I am right now for you. The house is probably being refurbished right now, in the cheapest way possible. I don't want her here. I think." I whisper, deciding that I may as well share the real reason I'm here.
"Well ya got to get through it or else you'll never see the end of it my dear" she states with a toothy smile.
"The words of a mad man" I recall. Effie once said that after Octavia spoke of my mother's mental health.
"Only when you take notice. Get going now then. Better hurry before they send them mutts after you eh?".
"What's it worth?" I say bluntly referring to the item in my hand. She doesn't even look at it.
"You keep it. You might need it sometime".
"For what?" I ask loudly looking away as my eyes begin to burn. A lady doesn't beg.
"Reference for when you make that bird nest for ya lover".
I choke out a laugh. "Or maybe, your just delusional".
"Yes...maybe we both are".
Authors note - Hey there! This is my new romance/friendship Everlark fic. I hope you liked chapter 1, it was getting long for me - over 4000 words of content - so I thought I'd stop it here. What are your thoughts? Please review! I love hearing your feedback. Follows and favourites are always appreciated, so thank you for everyone who does it for this or any of my other fics! :)