A little later than my usual Monday updates, but I've treated you to a much longer chapter to make up for it.
Once again, lots of kudos to my fabulous beta eatsnightlockforbreakfast, for her excellent advice and encouragement when I thought this was for the scrapheap. Find her on tumblr. You can follow me on there as well, where I sometimes put snippets of future chapters before I publish.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Suzanne Collins, not me!
This wasn't going to work.
"...the young fisherman went to the lake again, hoping his luck would change..."
Yup. There was no way in hell this was going to work.
"...he only ever cast his net 4 times in any one day. It was a long standing tradition of the village, said to appease the Gods."
She had been laying there for two hours straight, stringing together story after story. The 40 Thieves, The Tale of the Magic Carpet, Sinbad's Adventures Across the Seven Seas...
"The first time he cast his net, he felt his net was heavy, and became excited at the prospect of a heavy catch..."
Here she was, telling the story of 'The Fisherman and the Jeni', one of her favourites, and she was bored.
"..."but on pulling it in, the young fisherman was crestfallen to discover it was just the remains of a deer carcass."
Her voice hurt. Her brain hurt.
"But he did not give up. He tried again..."
'Buy time' Haymitch had said. Buy time.
"Upon his second net casting..."
...buy time for what, exactly? What was she supposed to do with this time?
"He once again felt a heavy resistance. But when he pulled it in..."
She should have stuck to her original plan. She was so angry at herself for listening to Haymitch. And Prim.
"...all he discovered was an old cart wheel tangled in his net. And now he had to fix the net before he could use it a third time."
Now, here she was, telling every story she could think of, with no clue as to what her next move should be.
"But he did, and he decided to throw it wider and farther than before..."
She can't just keep telling him stories forever. She was pretty sure even Prim would lose interest in listening after a few hours.
"He began to feel desperate. He knew his rugged looks and charms would get him nowhere if he had nothing to trade in the market. But on his third try, all he brought in was an old brown leather hunting boot. He threw it back in disgust."
This.
"He cast his net for the last time..."
Was.
" – and instead, he fished out an old copper pot."
Stupid.
" - he sounds like Finnick. Can you refer to him as Finnick from now on?" Peeta asked.
"Who? The fisherman?" He had completely derailed Katniss' train of thought, but she was grateful that his question at least proved he was still following her chamberpot of a story.
"Yes. Finnick's in charge of the horses in the palace stables. His father used to own a successful oyster farm in four, until the oysters ran out. Too high demand, probably from all the parties mother used to throw at the palace. Anyway, not long after, his father retired, so Finnick followed his wife Annie here to work in the palace. Call the fisherman Finnick." Normally, a demand to change a detail of her story from Prim would have her riled up. But Katniss was so far beyond caring at this point anyway, and she simply reminded herself of why she was telling this story, and who her audience was, so she acquiesced to his request and continued.
"OK. So...Sorry - where was I?"
"He had just fished out the copper pot from the lake..."
"Ah...yes of course. So, the fisher – Finnick – prized open the lid, hoping to find some form of treasure inside. Instead, it seemed empty. Just as he was beginning to work out the value of the pot, a billowing cloud of smoke rose up far into the sky. Finnick watched in awe as the figure of a giant formed, larger than any giant he had read about in stories. Now, this giant called himself Jeni, and had been in the pot for so long, he did not know what year it was. When he was first cast into the pot by an evil Magi, he had intended to grant his rescuer all the wishes he possessed. But as time moved on, and no one came to his aid, this reward fell down to three wishes. And then one. As time passed, so did the Jeni's displeasure and impatience. And all too soon, the reward for releasing the Jeni was a quick and painless death."
Katniss happened to glance out the window before continuing. The distant glow of navy blue on the horizon allowed her to make out the faint shapes of trees miles away in other districts, and she knew it was not long until the Sun would bring forth the day. Even if she kept this story going, embellishing details, there was no way she could keep it going for more than an hour. Then the Prince would stick to his original plan, and have her executed. She had given him no reason to do otherwise.
She must have been silent for a few moments longer than intended, for Peeta prompted her to continue. "Then what happened?"
Katniss knew it would be a powerful mistake. Even as she felt the rage bubble up her throat in her response, she had no regret in the choice she was about to make, could not bring herself to care about the consequences of what she was about to say to the Prince.
"You know what? I'm done. If you look outside, you can see it's nearly sunrise. I'm tired, I haven't slept in nearly a day, I have been prodded and polished and preened, I ache all over and I just want to sleep. So kill me, or leave me be, but that's it. I'm done."
As Katniss had been wildly gesticulating in her rant, the Prince had been watching her quietly, with slightly wider eyes. But after a few moments, she could almost see the rage fly across his glassy pupils, and his nostrils flared as he breathed in sharply to respond.
"You will finish the story. Tell me what happens to Finnick."
Katniss simply held the Prince's icy stare. She was too exhausted and riled to consider the consequences.
"No."
"Finish the story, or I'll – "
"-You'll what? Execute me? Forgive me, your highness, but I think that hand has already been laid. You want to do that, fine. It was my final fate anyway. But if you want to hear the rest, I'll not tell it without a few hours sleep. Because I. Am. Not. Continuing. Now."
Stalemate. Cold steel eyes met icy blue. Both seemed to be sizing the other out, fighting for the higher ground. Katniss fully expected to face her fate, was too angry and tired to care. But the Prince surprised her.
He accepted her terms.
"Fine! Have sleep if you must. I have duties to attend to." And he got up swiftly, throwing his muscular legs off the bed as he lifted himself to a sitting position. Walking determinedly towards the door, she could only watch with her mouth agape as he reached for the gold doorknob.
Twisting the handle roughly, he turned his head to steer his blue eyes toward her once more. "But tonight...you WILL finish it!" And with that, he stormed through the open doorway and slammed the heavy oak door shut behind him.
Katniss lay stunned for several moments. Had that just happened? Had she really just avoided an execution?
Too shocked and exhausted to think, she let her heavy head lay back against the satin pillows, and as the first warm rays of dawn reached into the room, she drifted into sleep.
xXx
She was being dragged to the executioner's block. She tried her best to resist, but her feet could not make any purchase on the cobbled floor. Women clawed at her the closer she got to the stage, the closer she was to her death. The executioner stood next to a blood stained block. She could smell the iron in the air from the blood of the last victim.
It was then that she realised the hands that clawed at her belonged to headless bodies, of the women who had gone before her to the butcher's block.
As she was dragged to the centre of the stage, she tried to avoid the soulless eyes watching her as they scattered around her. Eyes that sat within skulls no longer attached to the necks of their owners –
Katniss was startled from her sleep by a booming knock, followed by Haymitch marching unannounced into the room. Katniss followed her instinct to wrap herself in the satin sheets, even though her choice of sleep attire had been more than enough to cover her modesty. It was only then that she noticed she was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and her heart was thumping erratically in her chest. The strength of the sunlight filling the room told her it was probably midday.
She registered two things in her sleep induced haze. Somehow, she had managed to sleep a little over seven hours. And she was still alive.
With barely a glance in her direction, Haymitch reached for a small gold key from his waistcoat as he walked to the mahogany liquor cabinet and helped himself to a tumbler of green liquid.
Did everyone have keys to the liquor cabinet but her?
"Nice to see you're still here, sweetheart" he said in a dry tone. "I wasn't sure you were capable of listening to advice. I'd give you an 11 for effort at least." Katniss could not bring herself to reply, so she simply scowled at him while she watched the sickly looking liquid as it passed his upturned lips. "Tell me, how did you manage it exactly?"
"Just why do you want to know, Haymitch? Are the Capitolites keen to hear all the sordid details? Got the sweepstakes up and running again have you? Forgive me if I don't wish to pander to some bet you've got going on me, but this is my life here. The stakes are too high for me." Gambling had always been a popular pastime, particularly for those living in the Capitol, where money was in surplus and easily spent on frivolous things. Katniss had never understood why others might find gambling to be such an exciting sport. In her district, particularly while they struggled to survive after her mother died, she could not see how anyone would risk everything they had on a throw of a dice that could give them all or nothing when it stopped its roll. Why people would put their weekly wage on the outcome of a game, she would never understand. It was all so frivolous and ridiculous to a girl that dealt in absolutes rather than decks of cards.
Her disapproval of the vice soon turned into abhorrence when she began to hear the rumours circulating across town. On each and every tribute that left for the Capitol. The bets had begun simple enough; the colour of the gown, the length of time before the first royal child, how long before the Prince and his new bride would officially take the throne. But all too soon, these bets were deemed unsuitable for the game being played out in the palace. The house was always winning.
So the categories changed. People began using the horror unfolding before their eyes for their benefit, for their entertainment. Watching innocent girls sent to slaughter, and betting on how long they could last, whether they were silent or screamed in their last moments, their choice of death; what their final words would be. Katniss did not know how they could find out these details; her father had told her that no one but the executioner and the victims were permitted within the executioners' halls, but somehow word of mouth made it outside those walls anyway.
Eventually though, even those stakes became too dull for the Capitol citizens. It disgusted her how easily bored they became.
She watched as Haymitch placed the now empty glass tumbler back on the table, before slowly walking towards her. He still held an air of cocky superiority that she was finding increasingly frustrating to be around.
"If you must know, sweetheart, the bets have begun again. But there's only one thing being bet on this time around. You." If he saw her roll her eyes in disgust, Haymitch chose to ignore it. "People are betting on your survival in all of this. Not just for another night, but to the endgame itself. They think you can both survive. You've sparked hope in every district; hope that Panem's favourite Prince with the once golden tongue can be brought back to them. And the royal advisors have been concerned about the stability of the Capitol against a potential uprising from District 13. You could be the symbol they need to end the restlessness, end the danger. You started something the moment you volunteered. The question is, how are you going to finish it?"
The scowl on Katniss' face had slowly turned into a look of utter confusion as she listened to his words. How could this be possible? How could so many be ready to hope in one night? No, he must be joking. Trying to make her look a fool. He gave her advice to buy time, and here he was wasting hers.
"Listen old man, I don't know what you've been drinking, but I don't see how anyone could hold out any hope in this situation. Peeta as everyone once knew him a long time ago, he is gone, and I need to figure out a way to buy time so I can think of my next plan of attack. So if you're here to chit chat, I'm afraid I just haven't got the time right now. Unless you've actually done something useful, like brought me a weapon or something I can actually work with, you might as well leave so I can sort this out myself."
Any hope she had that Haymitch was actually listening to her words when he began to walk towards the doors, were squashed when he took a seat in the red padded armchair a few feet away from them. She glared at him as he slowly crossed one of his brown linen trouser clad legs over the other, before joining the fingertips of his hands together almost in prayer. He peered at her over them, with his head slightly bowed in thought, and his unkempt chin length ash blonde hair began to fall into his eyes as he continued to hold her gaze.
"You don't want to tell me how you managed to survive the day, fine. For the record though, I think it was genius." She looked back at him to see a genuinely wide smile on her face. She tried to bite back any feeling of flattery at his reaction, instead focusing on how he could possibly know what he was talking about.
"What was?"
"The storytelling. Keeping him in suspense. Making him wait. A brilliant move. Oh, and weaving in people he knows into it? Not sure how you managed that one, but you've certainly got his attention sweetheart."
"I didn't mean to do all that. It just happened. He was the one who suggested the fisherman be called Finnick."
"Yes, but you did it. If it was fluke, then we need to plan carefully for how you will carry on the story tonight. Perhaps if you weave in a few more people – "
Katniss cut him off with a frustrated growl. " – argh! It is pointless, is it not? He has become a monster, he's changed. People just don't change back; even if I survive this, he's no longer who he was. Why does no one seem to be able to see that?"
"Look, just because you're ready to give up on him, doesn't mean the rest of us are. The Peeta I knew would not be so easy to write off anyone. You must have seen what he once was, how eloquent. How the people loved him. With one word he could bring a nation to fight on their feet, or bring them to their knees. That innocent blonde haired Prince dreaming for the best for his citizens is still in there, Katniss. I think you have the key to reach him again, and bring him back to Panem."
She could see a tender look in his eyes that she had not noticed before. Her frustration at Haymitch slowly melted as she decided to listen to him reverently.
"I'm not sure exactly when things started to change, but things have been off with Peeta for about a year now. Around the time he first began to court Glimmer. I am almost certain she was involved with it, and believe me I have spent my efforts doing nothing else but trying to understand how she made this change in him."
"But how could she have? What could possibly turn a man to madness?"
"I think a drug. A very powerful one, but unfortunately I have not been able to work out how she was able to get the drug into his system, and without that knowledge I cannot find out what the drug is. Whatever it was, I think it is still being taken by him somehow." Haymitch's dusky blue eyes darted off to the side as he ran his hand into his hair in frustration before he continued.
"Believe it or not, your story has had an effect on him. When he left here, he went straight to Finnick, telling him all about your story of the fisherman. Finnick said he had a hard time convincing himself that he wasn't stood talking to the old Prince from before all this began." A small smile tugged at his lips wistfully, before setting his gaze on her determinedly again. "I don't think you realise, the effect your stories can have. The effect you can have. It's the only reason I'm here in fact. To help you plan your next move with him. And I think the stories are the answer."
Katniss considered his words. Telling stories had always seemed to Katniss to be like exquisite gems; a multitude of choices, of colours, facets all gleaming in the light. Each one valuable. Precious. Her English teacher had once taught her the importance of the telling of the story, by comparing the story itself to coal, and the storyteller became the pressure needed to convert the coal to pearls.
Katniss cared little for the fact that her teacher had meant diamonds. She found pearls to be prettier anyway.
She knew the power stories had on her, but she had never imagined or considered the power they could hold on others.
Was it possible, that by telling tales, someone could save a soul?
As much as Katniss no longer knew what to believe, she did realise that her mentor seemed to understand her on a level not many before had. Despite her doubts about Peeta, and despite Haymitch's many flaws, she found herself wanting to trust him, wanting him as an ally. And as she had very little in the way of other options, she felt at least for now, it would be prudent to follow his advice.
Taking a deep breath, she internally prayed that she was making the right decision, before looking up to her mentor once more.
"Can you help get me out of this room for a couple of hours? There's someone I need to see."
xXx
As Katniss did not yet know her way around the palace, she asked her two shadows for guards to guide her in the direction of the stables, in the hope she was well timed to meet with Peeta's friend Finnick. The guards were the only reason she was able to leave the room in the first place, an unavoidable condition of Haymitch's. They had at first seemed a little apprehensive to be taking her outside, until one had the bright idea to handcuff her to one of their wrists so that she could not make a break for it.
It was only when they stepped inside the stables, that they realised neither guard had the key to release her again.
Idiots.
Just as she began to release a tirade of expletives, a tall bronze skinned man stepped out from one of the horse stalls, and caused her to stop mid sentence and stare. His hair reflected the sunlight in coppery waves, his eyes were the shade of green that brought to mind the sea on a hot summer's day. She could tell working in the stables helped his physique; the way he filled out his simple white cotton shirt and brown leather breeches hinted at a toned muscular body beneath.
Katniss did not think she had seen anyone so breathtaking and flawless in her life.
She could not at first work out why it was that she did not find herself attracted to him, despite his obvious beauty. It was only when he began speaking that she knew why she didn't.
He certainly was an Adonis, but the upturn of his mouth as he talked to her spoke of how much he was aware of it.
"That's some very colourful language for a lady. Ah, but I see I am talking to the lady of fire. I doubt that your passion can be contained. Sugar cube?" She stared at the palm of his hand as he held up a small square of sugar towards her. Shaking her head, he threw it into his own mouth instead.
"I give them to the horses, but what can I say? I can't resist sweet things. Call it my only vice." He winked at her then, and she simply scowled back. If he was trying to flirt with her, it was simply making her uncomfortable, but she could see how that sort of thing would have the Capitol girls falling at his feet.
"So...you're the girl Peeta couldn't stop talking about this morning. I hear you used me for one of your stories. I can give you a lot more ideas for what else you can do with me if you like?" As Katniss began to blush, Finnick released a deep laugh that bubbled heartily from his chest. "Relax girl, I'm only teasing. You really are pure aren't you?"
She began to feel she was quickly becoming a means for mockery, so she began to look for a way to leave the stables as quickly as possible.
"Actually, I did come here to get more information about you to help with your character."
Finnick held a pleasing glint in his eye as he responded to her. "Oh? And have you found what you need? Found a muse in me have you?"
Katniss tried to contain the smirk that was fighting its way onto her face. "Yes, actually, you really have inspired me. I think I am going to have your head bitten off by a wild dog. The Prince would really like that I'm sure." Finnick's eyes widened briefly, before his throaty laugh once again echoed around the walls, soon joined by a higher pitched laugh from further within the stables.
"Wow Finnick, she certainly knows you well already!" As Katniss looked for the female voice that had invaded the space, a woman around her own height and age emerged and began walking towards them. Her hair was a chestnut brown, and had been cut to only a few inches in length. She had a surprisingly muscular frame for a woman, Katniss noted, and was dressed in extremely thick looking clothing covering her torso and legs. Wrapped around her waist was a leather apron with several metal tools inserted in various places. On her face and around her arms, she noticed smudges of dirt and ash that made it look like the girl had not bathed in a week.
"Jo, you might be of some use to our Princess here. Seems she's got herself tied up in a bit of bother."
Jo and Finnick seemed to share a meaningful smirk as they glanced towards her handcuffed wrist. Whatever joke they shared, she certainly did not feel in on it.
"Wow, I heard Cinna dressed you in fire for the bedroom, but I had no idea you were a fireball in the bed!" Katniss frowned to herself, trying to work out what was being implied by the strange girl's words.
She noticed Jo remove a tool from the dark leather apron tied around her. As Jo began to make quick and efficient work of the handcuff lock, Finnick began to properly introduce Jo.
"Katniss, this is Johanna Mason. She's the blacksmith for the stables. Makes and fixes the horseshoes in here – "
" – yeah, a waste of my bloody time and talent if you ask me..." Jo grumbled to herself.
Finnick simply gave her a look of understanding before continuing. "She used to make the weapons for the palace guards and the Royal family – "
"Yes, the best bloody weapons anywhere in Panem! The Prince knows there are none to rival mine. Have you seen the shoddy workmanship Brutus makes?! I could cut those swords in half with one of my horseshoes."
"Jo, you know it's not Haymitch's fault. He's looking out for you in all this mess." Finnick turned to Katniss to explain. "With everything that's been happening around here, Haymitch felt it best to move all female employees in areas away from the prince. So Jo was moved down the back here to work on things the Prince doesn't need to check on."
Jo simply muttered something to herself, before shouting "Voila!" as Katniss felt the cold hard metal that surrounded her wrist, and that of the guard's, drop to the floor.
Jo bent to pick up the handcuffs, but seemed to give Katniss a mischievous look.
"So...you've entered the lion's lair and survived eh? Just between you and me..." Jo inched closer to Katniss to speak into her ear, but still spoke the words loud enough for everyone there to hear, "...how big is the lion exactly?"
Katniss gave her a sideways look in confusion. "What?"
"You know...when you made the 'beast with two backs'. Come on, give me details! How was it?"
Jo seemed exasperated at her naive silence. "Are you always this brainless?" Turning to Finn, she gestured to her with her thumb. "This one's a pure one alright Finn. Which nunnery did Peeta get her from again?"
As soon as Katniss began to understand the girl's meaning, her whole face flamed in embarrassment.
"Look, men are fairly simple creatures at heart. They all lead with their dicks, even a King. You just need to give him a good roll around in the sack, and he'll be purring at your every word."
Katniss stared at her and huffed in frustration. "I don't know what that means. What sack?!"
Johanna gave her a pointed look before turning to Finnick. "Oh, this one's such a doll. The Prince sure has a handful with her." Noticing that Finnick was no longer joining in with her cajoling of Katniss, Jo turned back to her with a more serious look. "Look, I'm talking about sex, honey. Women have used it throughout the ages to bend men to their will. If you're all out of other physical weapons, that's one that you always bear on your person." Katniss could no longer sense any teasing in her tone.
As Jo began to walk away, she called over her shoulder. "Think about what I said. I'm always here if you ever need any advice."
Katniss could not deny she felt somewhat relieved that the experience shared with these two was over. Just as she began to retreat from the stables, Jo called to her one last time.
"Hey, Brainless...catch!"
Katniss had always had quick reflexes, so was not caught off guard by Jo's sudden throw of the handcuffs aimed at her head. As she stared down at them wondering why she had been given them back, Jo chimed up in a sing-song voice.
"No charge for the handcuffs. You might find they come in handy later tonight!" And with a quick wink, she disappeared back behind the stalls.
xXx
When Peeta returned that night, Katniss had once again been prepared by the maids in waiting. This time, she had been given time to eat before he returned. She had also been given ample time to prepare her story, and it gave her a confidence she had not yet felt at the palace.
She noticed as Peeta joined her back on the bed that his eyes looked almost bruised in their exhaustion. She thought he must not have slept in the whole time he was away from her. She began to wonder just how much sleep he ever got.
Neither of them spoke right away; they lay in their almost familiar positions now. Both lay their heads on the goose feathered pillows, with opposite arms jammed underneath their heads. They faced each other, letting candlelight slowly cast their faces in a warm orange glow as the sun disappeared below the horizon. He noticed a lock of hair had begun to tickle her nose, so he gently lifted his hand and tucked it back behind her ear. She did not flinch once, but gave him a small smile.
Katniss had needed to see Finnick to discover more about him; if she was to work people from Peeta's world into her stories, then she needed to be convincing. But she had more to her plan. With Haymitch telling her how she had reached Peeta with Finnick's character, she felt perhaps there was a way of going one step further.
She would work her and Peeta into the story.
Once the idea dawned upon her, the story she would weave seemed to create itself. She would include everything she knew about him, about her, all disguised in a web of fairy tales and mystery.
And so, she began. She continued the story of the fisherman, how he tricked the Jeni into sparing his life, and buried the pot in the centre of the desert. Later, the Emir discovered the secret of the treasure hidden somewhere in the Sahara, and to find it, sent many of his people to search. When eventually his own people grew restless of their leader, and began to refuse to travel the dangerous desert looking for the Jeni treasure, he invented a new games for his people, to keep them oppressed and within his power. As punishment for their disobedience, every year he selected twenty four children to be sent to the desert to search. None were allowed to return until they found the lamp, and only one was ever allowed to return if successful. It became a race to the death. With food and drink sources scarce, children turned to brutal methods to survive. Many turned into desperate killers. Ultimately though, there were never any winners.
Katniss introduced two teenagers to the story then. A girl with raven hair and a braid flowing down her back, who was proficient with a bow and arrow; and a shy blond boy, who was the baker's son, and had loved the girl since he was five years old. She told of a time the boy saved the girl's life, how he gave her bread from his parent's bakery, and was punished for it. And how on the eve of the girl's seventeenth birthday, they were both chosen to enter the desert.
All in all, her story seemed to have the Prince enraptured.
Occasionally, he would interrupt with questions, usually with simple checking of facts or wanting more detail in places. The boyish shy looks he gave her as she told him the story gave her confidence, fuelled her fire and passion to tell it.
Until all too suddenly, his looks turned troubled.
Katniss could not at first pinpoint what detail in the story changed the atmosphere between them. She had just told of how the boy had gone to the Emir and told of his love for the girl, and begged for her to be spared; how he would give anything for it. She could not see how Peeta had become agitated, so she continued to talk, hoping she could bring his focus back to her.
But she realised that somewhere along the line, she had definitely lost him.
As he jumped up and away from her and began pacing the room furiously, she could not help but be a little afraid of him in that moment.
"You're wrong, the girl is all wrong. I don't see why he would still be caring for her, when clearly she is going to betray him. She has to, she is a mutt. Kill her. Kill her in the story!"
Katniss saw the slightly wild movement to his pupils, how they quickly grew then receded and left little of the electric blue she had been seeing in the candlelight. Deep down, her instinct told her she needed to do whatever she could to calm the man in front of her, bring his focus back to her, help to trust where she was taking him in this imaginary world.
But she could not help herself throwing fire back at him in her response.
"Why is she wrong? You haven't even tried to understand her. You put men on a pedestal, and women are to you seen as nothing but flawed creatures destined for nothing but sin. But have you ever looked at the actions of your fellow men? What of the Emir in the story? The girl is doing what she can to survive in the situation, and yet you can overlook the barbaric actions that put her there?!" Katniss had begun to bark her last words out, and she felt the heat radiating off of her as her nails dug painfully into her palms. Now she had begun this fight, she was not about to turn back. He was going to consider her message within the story one way or another.
"Listen, do you want to go to the gallows now?! I could send for the executioner like that if I so chose! But instead, here I am giving you more time. Because I'm nice. Because I feel pity for you. And you owe me for that. So the least you can do – "
"Pity?!" Peeta had pushed her too far in his words. She jumped up and strode so quickly towards him, that he seemed momentarily stunned with the fire he could see behind her molten silver eyes.
She was standing so close to him in no time, thrusting her finger into his face as she continued to speak. She retaliated to his threat.
"You are nothing but a cowardly boy! Using threats, sending women to their deaths, you are nothing but spineless – "
Peeta opened his mouth, looking to cut her off in a furious tirade as his cheeks flamed and his jaw tensed, but Katniss was on a roll.
"I don't need your pity! And I own you nothing. NOTHING!" As her words echoed around the room, the Prince seemed frozen. Aside from the sound of their rapid breathing, nothing else was spoken between them.
Without warning, Peeta turned his back on her and left the room in silence.
xXx
As the first golden rays of dawn warmed her face for what she felt would be the last time, Katniss heard loud footsteps approaching her chamber door. Before she could turn around to face the doorway, she jumped at the loud crash of the heavy oak door colliding with the wall behind it.
She knew who would be standing in the doorway even before she looked up. She had heard his loud gait quite a few times moving around the space by now to recognise it.
His legs were planted sturdily beneath him, his hands twitched at his sides like he wasn't sure what to do with them. No words were spoken between them; she simply held his intense blue eyed gaze as she watched whatever internal struggle seemed to be raging through his mind.
This is it, she thinks. This is the moment she had been preparing herself for ever since he left. Still, if she was going to die, at least she was going to look her killer in the eyes. She would face death in defiance. She would take control. So she began to move, to meet her fate head on.
She had just reached the door when his voice stopped her. The words that broke the expanse of silence between them, were the last words she was expecting to hear.
"I – " His eyes darted away from her to the side of the room, before he slowly drew them back.
" – I remember about the bread."