She doesn't mean to fall asleep but when the sun hits her face she's still curled up on Peeta's pallet, the scent of him, and of them, enveloping her. Peeta, however, is nowhere to be seen. She can hear low voices - his and her mother's - and the clatter of teacups coming from the kitchen, just beyond the door. Hurriedly, she dresses and sneaks out into the yard, walking around outside to re-enter the house from the front. Her mother will know that she didn't sleep in her own bed last night, but she'd still rather not advertise that fact.

When Katniss walks through the door Mrs Everdeen turns and beams at her. Katniss shoots Peeta a questioning look, but he merely smiles beatifically, and she has to resist the urge to grin just as goofily at him. Her future husband.

"Peeta asked me for your hand in marriage," her mother says, breaking Katniss out of her daydreaming. She turns, shocked, to face her mother, but before she can protest Mrs Everdeen continues. "I told him it wasn't mine to give." She smiles gently at her eldest daughter. "You're an adult, Katniss, independent and strong, and you've been your own woman for a long time." She reaches out tentatively for her daughter, and Katniss moves into her arms. They haven't shared many affectionate moments since her father died, despite having grown closer in the time Peeta has been with them, but they hug each other hard now. "I'm proud of you," Mrs Everdeen whispers.

"I love you, Mom," Katniss replies, the first time she's said it in eight long years.

Peeta insists on asking for Prim's blessing too, and her squeals can be heard across the Seam.

Merchant weddings usually involve a lot of guests coming to the home of the groom's or bride's parents for cake, Seam marriages are generally celebrated with only a small shared meal between the two families and maybe a couple of close friends. All that's legally required is a trip to the Justice Building to sign some papers, but no one in District 12 really feels married without a toasting, when the newly married couple builds a fire together in their new home and toasts a bit of bread. It's an ancient ritual, passed down through the generations, one of the few that remain from before the dark days.

Peeta has been living in the Seam for well over a year but he's still a merchant down deep, and a baker at heart, so Katniss doesn't try to dissuade his plans for a grand cake to share with the community. Unlike a merchant wedding however, he proposes that they celebrate in their meadow.

They set a date for two Sundays hence. Sunday is the only day the mines are closed, and many of their friends and the people that Peeta has gotten close to in the Hob are miners.

Rye and Brann are thrilled for their little brother, Brann volunteers to help with the cake, while Rye offers up his own kitchen for the preparation.

Delly promises a bouquet of flowers for the bride, and Mr Cartwright gifts Katniss a new pair of fine leather slippers to wear with her dress. They're far too fancy for her but she hasn't the heart to disappoint Mr Cartwright, who seems almost as happy for Katniss as he was for Delly. And she knows that Prim will be able to wear them too, after.

The dress itself is rented from the tailor, one of only four that nearly every bride in the district chooses between, based on size. It's probably been worn a hundred times, but Prim tacks on ribbons and lace, and it looks like something completely new. She keeps it hidden in the bedroom, insistent that Peeta not see it until the big day.

Katniss sees little of her fiancé in the week leading up to their wedding day. She works five days a week at the shoe shop, he works six at the Hob and virtually every spare minute he has he's at Rye's house, creating a confectionary masterpiece. She waits up for him one evening, three days before they're to be wed. Peeta finds her on the front steps, bundled against the spring chill in her father's hunting jacket, clutching a flask of hot tea. He seems to sense her mood and drops onto the stoop beside her. For a time they simply sit in silence, passing the flask back and forth. Finally she gathers her courage and speaks.

"I don't want children," she confesses, unable to look at Peeta. "I know you do, and you deserve a whole gaggle of little blond babies to spoil with cookies and shower with love. I can't give you that, not as long as there is the Reaping hanging over them. I'm so sorry, Peeta. I.. I understand if you want to find someone else, someone who can give you everything you deserve." She reaches the end of the speech she's been practicing for days and bites her lip hard against the tears that threaten. She loves him too much to trap him in an unhappy marriage.

She's afraid to look at his face, to see his anger, his disappointment. So she stares at her feet until a large hand gently but firmly tips up her chin. His expression isn't angry, though. He almost looks amused. "Do you really think I didn't know that, Katniss?" He smiles then, and strokes her cheek. "We've been together for two years, and I've loved you for most of my life. I know you. And yes, I'd like to have children, but only if it's with you. I want you so much more than I want kids. What we have is enough for me, and you're so much more than I deserve." She moves to argue but he stops her with a kiss. "I'm so happy, Katniss. You make me so happy. If children ever came into the picture it'd be wonderful but if it never happens I'll still be the happiest man in Panem. Because of you. You're all of my dreams come true." It's sappy, and a little silly, but Katniss beams anyway.

Peeta spends the night before the wedding at Rye's house, at Libby's insistence; apparently there's an old Merchant custom that seeing the bride before the wedding is bad luck. Katniss thinks it's hogwash, but it does give her an opportunity to meet with Brann early that Sunday morning, before the spring sun has even crested the horizon. He doesn't ask why Katniss wants his help baking such a specific loaf of bread and she doesn't offer any explanation. She knows Peeta will understand, that's all that matters.

And when it comes out of the little brick oven in the Everdeen yard with the crusts slightly charred she knows it's even more perfect.

Prim fusses all morning, it's the first wedding she's ever been invited to and she seems determined to make everything perfect, hardly giving Katniss a moment to herself. By the time Mrs Everdeen sends her younger daughter out to collect wildflowers for her sister's hair, Katniss is a nervous wreck.

In the few moments of stolen quiet while Prim is gone, Mrs Everdeen calms and soothes her eldest daughter, tentatively sharing the kind of maternal insights that have been so lacking in their relationship over the years, and Katniss reflects on how much has changed since Peeta came into their lives.

Prim and their mother braid two small sections of Katniss's hair, crowning her with the ropes and leaving the rest of the raven locks to cascade freely, knowing how Peeta loves her hair down. They weave wildflowers through the strands; Queen Anne's lace and clover and rue and dandelions. Lots of dandelions.

She even tucks a few of the sunny yellow blooms into the small bouquet of white carnations Delly brings her. She wonders if Peeta knows that she's associated him with dandelions since they were children, since the day after he saved her with the bread, when she saw the first dandelion of spring in the schoolyard.

Each time her nerves threaten to get the best of her she looks at them, tucked into her bouquet, crowning her little sister's golden head, lining the path to town, and she's reminded of the boy with the bread. Peeta is her dandelion in spring, bringing her hope, reminding her that life can be good.

Peeta is standing on the steps to the Justice Building when she arrives, flanked by both of his brothers, waiting for her. He's wearing a crisp new shirt, pale blue, much like the one he wore for their first date. She thinks he's even more handsome now than he was that day. The years have been kind to Peeta, sculpting his jaw and broadening his shoulders. He's no longer the shy boy who was so afraid to talk to her; he's a strong, confident man now. And soon he'll be her husband.

When he sees her approaching his face lights up, awestruck. She can't contain her grin as she runs the last few feet to stand before him. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he gasps, stroking her loose locks with a shaky hand.

"You don't look so shabby yourself, Mellark," she tries to joke, but her voice sounds breathy and giddy. He laughs.

"Still want to do this?" His question is lighthearted but she can see the genuine worry. She grabs his hand and tows him towards the door in response.

Katniss has only been inside the Justice Building once before, when her father died and she, as the eldest child, was awarded the medal of valor on his behalf. But marriages take place in a different section of the building, so she's able to push those unhappy memories away, and focus on the man standing beside her.

All is silent as the clerk pushes paper after paper across the narrow desk, and with nothing more than a few flourishes of a pen Katniss and Peeta are officially wedded by the laws of Panem. Their first married kiss tastes like equal parts joy and relief.

Mrs Everdeen snatches up the thick envelope that contains the address and keys for the house assigned to the newlyweds; it's customary that the family sneak in before the couple gets there to set things up. Then the happy group leaves, exiting into the bright spring sun.

The path is lined with people singing the traditional District 12 wedding song. Merchant and Seam, blond and dark heads both raise their voices in celebration. Katniss finds herself overwhelmed by the outpouring of affection, she's never thought of the district as a place that cared about her until this moment.

There's almost a carnival atmosphere in the meadow as people file in, having followed the bride and groom, singing and laughing the whole way. Peeta's brothers set up tables and cover them with treats; cookies and squares, a rare treat for so many of the Seam folk in attendance. And then they bring out the cake.

Katniss has never seen such an enormous cake in her life, could never have even dreamed one. And yet, even though it's massive, it's so perfectly simple. Instead of the stacked tiers that are popular with the wealthiest merchants it's a single layer, rectangular, easy to cut and to share.

But it's certainly not plain. Peeta has painstakingly recreated the meadow in cake form.

On a layer of green frosting he's arranged at least a hundred gum paste wildflowers; clover and buttercups and even dandelions. It simply couldn't be more perfect. She can barely fathom how much work he's put into it. And though she's not one for public displays she stretches up on her toes to kiss him soundly.

There's music and dancing, virtually everyone they know makes an appearance. Gale comes with Leevy; Weston, Delly and her father; Peeta's brothers and most of his childhood friends. Even Sae and her little granddaughter twirl together. The hugs and handshakes are nonstop.

Though his smile never once falters, Katniss catches Peeta several times looking towards town for the two people who don't show up.

When the party dies down they slip away to their new home. Katniss is a merchant now, so they've been assigned a house in town, but Rye must have pulled some strings because their new dwelling is on the very edge of town, right at the path that leads to the Seam. Fitting for a couple whose lives straddle both communities in so many ways.

Town homes, while tiny, are palaces compared to the shacks in the Seam. But Katniss barely notices the larger living room, the separate kitchen, the bathroom with a real bathtub. All she sees is the fireplace, a tiny bundle of kindling on the hearth beside a white linen wrapped lump - the bread she baked that morning. The papers at the Justice building, the party, the cake, none of those things are as real as the scene before her. The enormity of it leaves her breathless.

Peeta's eyes never leave his bride. He's uncharacteristically silent as Katniss lights candles. The electricity is off, as usual, and the sun has nearly set. Once the room is aglow she turns to him, holding out her hands. His eyes are like saucers as he takes in the sight of his wife in her wedding dress, bathed in candlelight. They stand in front of the cold fireplace for many long moments, just staring, admiring. Finally with a shuddering breath Katniss asks, "ready?"

Peeta's a whiz with fires, expertly laying the kindling and coaxing the flames into a roaring blaze, filling the room with warmth and light.

They kneel before the hearth, hands clasped tightly together, both trembling with nervous anticipation. She's about to reach for the bread when Peeta stops her. "I wanted to give you something first," he says softly, releasing one of her hands to reach into the pocket of his shirt. "I know it's not customary in the Seam, but I was hoping…" he trails off, and Katniss's breath catches. The firelight bounces off the object in his hand. A ring, a wedding band. She's seen them before, Mrs Undersee wears one, but it's an extravagance a poor girl from the Seam could never have dreamed of wearing herself.

He lifts their joined hands and reverently slides the thin silvery band onto her finger; it's a perfect fit. It's not a plain band, as she first thought, but three slender cords, braided together. Made by Brann's hand, she has no doubt. Peeta must have been saving up for it for months, for far, far longer than their fortnight engagement. He answers the unspoken question in her eyes. "I've been waiting for this day practically my whole life, Katniss. I've always believed we would get here, that no matter what…"

"This would have happened anyway," she finishes for him, and his smile is dazzling in response.

Peeta reaches for the bread then, and she holds her breath. Baking this loaf had seemed so fitting, but compared to the gift he's just given her it feels silly now. She watches as his brows furrow; the slightly charred, dense loaf isn't what he was expecting of course. The bakery sells tiny loaves of fine white bread for toastings, and she knows that's what he'd asked Brann for.

"I baked it," she whispers, and his eyes snap up, filled with awe. She takes one end of the loaf and together they break it apart. His eyes widen when he sees the fruit and nuts inside. "Do you remember?" she asks, and he nods. "I never even thanked you."

"You never needed to. I never expected anything."

"I know," she rushes to reassure him. "You saved my life that day, Peeta. Mine and Prim's and my mother's. But it's more than that. You gave me hope. You… you helped me to see that life could be good again." She shuffles forward awkwardly, until her face is just inches from his. "You're still doing that. Every single day. Your kindness, your steadiness, your love. I never knew I could be this happy."

Her confession may be disjointed and rambling but he understands, and the bread lies forgotten in his lap as he cups her face, kissing her with barely restrained passion. "Let's do this," he groans when finally they break apart, "so I can make love to my wife."

There's no protocol to a toasting, no rules to follow or speeches to recite, though most couples say at least a few words. Kneeling together, forehead to forehead, sharing bites of life-sustaining bread, toasted in their marital home by their own hands, the only words that pass between them are hushed declarations of love and devotion. When every bite has been enjoyed he kisses the crumbs from the corners of her mouth and then carries her into the bedroom.

They undress each other with sure hands, caressing and complimenting, each touch an affirmation of their commitment.

They've never made love in a bed before, and the squeaking of the springs makes Katniss giggle. But her laughter cuts off sharply when his thrusts increase in power and speed, the banging of the iron headboard against the wall drowning out the squeaks. The raw passion on his face, the intensity in his eyes, his love that surrounds her and fills her as he claims her, she's never felt so certain. Never felt so safe.