A/N: I don't know why but I'm so into writing this story so much right now! Thank you for all your feedback! The birth is in this one, and I hope you enjoy. As always I disown everything that isn't mine. Thank you for reading.


Chapter Eight

Peeta kept his fleet in the bay of Locrinia some five weeks. It was far longer than he had planned, but it took time to find the right trees to cut down for masts, and then to trim the new masts into their keel beds.

There were also several score Trojans who had serious injuries caused in the straits of the Pillars of Hercules: eight of these people died within a few days, but the others needed time to heal before they set off again on the rigors of a sea voyage.

These delays normally would have made his people impatient, but Peeta found himself intrigued by what Joanna taught him of Panem and was not deterred for an instant by the time gap. The land and its people appeared wild and uncivilized, but imbued with the deep wisdom of a power so archaic that Peeta began to suspect it predated even the gods of the Greeks and Trojans.

Panem's gods Chaff and Seeder both repelled and intrigued Peeta. They were ancient — as old as the land itself; Joanna said the entire land was dotted with stone monuments built to honor Chaff and Seeder by people who had lived so long ago that the Panem's people had no idea what purpose the monuments originally served. When Peeta asked about their power, Jo merely shrugged, and said that she could not believe that they would welcome Peeta's plan to build New Troy on Panem's wild shores.

Peeta was perturbed less by what she said than by the fear in Joanna's eyes every time she talked about her childhood gods. He wondered what it was that worried her, if she somehow knew what she was to Chaff, but she refused to respond to his pressing, and always turned the conversation to other things.

As Joanna had said, Panem's language was relatively difficult to learn, but once Peeta had mastered its basic structure the going got easier. Peeta had spent the greater part of his life traveling about the lands of the Mediterranean, acquiring new languages as he went. To acquire one more took little effort. Within two weeks of his arrival in Locrinia Peeta had mastered the language's basic constructions, after that it was the far simpler task of acquiring new words for everyday meanings.

As Peeta learned, so too did most of his officers and those men of authority within the Trojan people. Cato, Marvel, Glimmer, Idaeus, and all their immediate subordinates learned the basics of the language; Finnick already knew the tongue well enough throughout Joanna and his years of friendship.

Surprisingly — stunningly, given that she'd shown no hint of any talent save a stubbornness Peeta could not quail and a voice made for singing — Katniss proved the most adept at learning the language. Every day she acquired more and more words, and, so Joanna said, spoke with scarcely an accent.

This troubled Peeta somewhat – he tried to shake this off, knowing that it was merely a thought produced by the bands, not himself… But he was not trouble that she was finally actually doing something useful, but the "how" of her learning. Who was she learning it from?

True, she and Joanna had become fast friends, and true, they spent time together most days.

But not enough to learn so fast or so extensively.

Was she learning from Finnick?

Peeta could not keep track of everyone within the household, not when there was so much to do elsewhere…were Katniss and Finnick spending time together that Peeta was not aware of?

That worried him, desperately.

He couldn't actually believe that Finnick was truly tempted by Katniss — surely Annie would deter any liking he could have developed for Katniss. Soon, Peeta comforted himself, shoving off the band's influence. Though he had promised Annie to introduce her the very next dawn, he thought in the morning that it would suspicious for her suddenly to arrive and be so late to be introduced.

Instead, he had a plan.

Annie looked uncertain about it as he told her, but Peeta assured her. "He'll love you the moment he sees you," he said, and whispered all the gritty details in her ear, hopeful she would not mess up.

Now today was the day for the plan to be exacted.

Per the plan Peeta influenced Finnick and his officers down to the small beach around the bay, to overlook his fleet, and go over the coming travel plans. Marvel, ever the business man, prattled on about tallies and repairs, while Peeta walked in the lead down the beach the other following slowly.

Peeta kept his head high, and his eyes scanned the shoreline insistently.

The water was a peculiar cobalt that day, sucking gently at the sand. Wind played over their faces, salty and warm, and if Peeta cared to note, caressing. Are you ready? Peeta thought to the sea.

His answer came in the form of a straggled, terrified scream.

All the men – and no, Glimmer did not – stirred themselves to the sound. Marvel looked to the city and Cato to the boats anchored not far distant, but it was Finnick who saw the woman first. Laying amid the sand, sea water churning around her form, a beautiful – no blinding – woman struggled to shore.

Finnick streaked toward her without a thought in his head, or breath in his lungs.

Annie looked her part well; tangled brown hair dripping, sticking to her pale cheeks, her white robes clinging to her body with salt water – revealing a form marble-like in its perfection – and her expression showed a range of emotions from (truly) fright, instability, and anxious need.

Finnick reached Annie just as she fell into the sand on her knees, free of the water. Peeta smiled at the startled fling of her eyes as Finnick did not wait to speak with her, but swung her up in his arms.

"Beautiful lady," Finnick gasped, brushing wet hair from her forehead. "How is it you come here?"

The ability to form words seemed a loss to her, and Peeta stepped forward, meaning to help. He affected a look of horror. "By the gods! Annie!" He touched her arm, and – reluctantly – Finnick loosened his hold on her so that she stood on her two bare feet, but was still leaning into his side.

"You know her?" Finnick asked Peeta.

"Yes." Peeta flickered his eyes between the two. "Finnick… this is Annie, Annie… this is Finnick." A pause as Finnick smiled down at her, and Annie blinked owlishly back. "What's happened to you?" Peeta asked Annie. "Last I heard you were among those who we lost in our passing of the pillars. You've survived! For so long? Among the waves and seaweed? You must be god-favored indeed."

"Likely one struck in love with you by such beguiling beauty," Finnick said, more truth than flattery.

Annie flushed, her eyes sparked in pleasure.

Then, Finnick started. "How rude of me! I have not asked you if you're hurt? You must thirst, and be starving. Please, come… you are welcome to my home and my table fully. I fear you may ask for any hospitality in my reach, for it is yours and I will surely surrender it to you with only one word."

At that point Cato and Marvel, Glimmer, and the rest of the captains drew near. They didn't question what Peeta said because among thousands of Trojans, how were they to know she was not one? Each watched the woman in uncertain awe, and as Annie opened her mouth to speak for the first time, Peeta prayed her voice to come out easy and steady.

It didn't.

It shook and Annie's voice seemed to freeze mortals in their skin.

"I am lost."

Her words confused most, as it was very obvious what she was – but Finnick stayed frozen for much longer than the others, staring down in Annie's sea-green eyes as if mesmerized. Then he smiled, in a gentler way than his usual easy coming and friendly grins… as if taking great care. He touched her cheek, then once more swung her in his arms and began back toward the city. As he passed…

…Peeta swore he heard Finnick reply, "You'll never be lost again. Not from me."


The departure was put off for another three days at Finnick's assistance. He tended to Annie day and night, and refused to leave until he was certain she had recovered fully from her last 'ship travel' from which 'she was thrown from the ship's deck into the deeps' and 'it was a miracle she survived'. Peeta wasn't solely upset about the delay – though some were grumpy for it – and allowed Annie her peace.

It became rapidly obvious Finnick did, in fact, have a love beyond the sea.

The delay relieved Peeta from the anxiety of reaching Panem, and the inevitable come of big plans.

But it had been five weeks and time was passing quickly. Every time he saw either Prim or Katniss their bellies looked like to burst at any moment, and it was Prim who was supposed to pop first. He could tell Katniss was doting over her, trying to relieve her sister of discomfort while ignoring her own.

If he were a bolder man – or a better friend – he would make her settle down and put Lavinia to the task of looking after Prim, but he knew that would only upset Katniss. Besides bold wasn't him… and he had worked hard over the past five weeks to pass them without one incident of his other half.

In fact, the past five weeks went so well he was reluctant to leave. Many times he found himself sitting with Katniss, laughing or talking of matters unrelated to their troubles and she graced him smiles, and she let Prim talk freely with him (it was not often Katniss allowed any Trojan near Prim, in worry they would harm the little princess and that sign of trust filled Peeta with pleasure and pride).

Each smile from her, each meeting of their eyes across a room, it only served to remind him that with her swelling belly came her impending death. Cato himself took every opportunity to remind Peeta of Glimmer's vision that showed Katniss' dying in childbirth. Katniss had not long to live, (if Peeta didn't find a way to prevent this coming end) and she would not trouble him at all in Panem or in whatever relationship Clove chose to commence with him.

She was carrying a son for him, an heir, and that should be all that mattered.

The trouble was that wasn't it. Cato, thankfully, hadn't come to see how much he cared for Katniss, but surely they would know once she's gone and all he can do is grieve her loss. Surely they will begin to notice that when Peeta looked at Katniss, he saw not so much his son anymore, but Katniss herself.


Predictably, their falsely continued relationship as husband and wife strengthened in image. More often people noticed them together, being friendly, and when Peeta was seeking her out, they could tell by the smile on his face. Others didn't know or predict the break in their marriage, but were of course unaware that though they shared a bed every night (he could not very well tell Finnick that he would not sleep in the same room as her) Peeta kept his promise and did not touch her – unless she invited it, and it was usually only a rare squeeze of a hand or a brush of his leg on her calf. Often those nights she humped as far away from him as she could (not entirely forgiving), and sometimes, when he woke during the night, he heard her laugh softly in her sleep, and knew she dreamed of either Gale or her childhood.

Worse than Katniss' sleep-laughter was the vision that had gripped Peeta himself one night.

He'd gone into a deep sleep when he'd woken, startled.

And Peeta was no longer in the chamber he shared with Katniss.

Instead he stood in a stone hall so vast that he could barely comprehend the skill required to build it. The roof soared so far above his head he could hardly see it, while to either side long aisles of perfectly rounded stone columns guarded shadowy, esoteric places. This was a place of great mystery and power.

There was a movement in the shadows behind one of the ranks of columns, and Katniss — utterly naked, smiling brighter than Peeta ever thought her capable – walked out into the open space of the hall.

Peeta drew in a sharp, audible breath, but she did not acknowledge his presence, and Peeta was aware that even though they stood close, she had no idea he was present. Katniss looked different, and it took Peeta a long moment to work out why. She was older, perhaps by ten or fifteen years, far more mature, far, far lovelier. And Peeta realized he was holding his breath and let it out slowly, studying her.

Her body was leaner and stronger than it was now, her hips and breasts more rounded, her flanks and legs smoother and more graceful. Her face was thinned, revealing more of that striking bone structure, and there were lines of care and laughter about her eyes and mouth that accentuated her loveliness rather than detracted from it. "Katniss," Peeta dared to say, and stretched out his hand.

She paid him no attention, wandering back and forth, first this way, then that, her eyes anxious, and Peeta understood that she was waiting for someone. Who? Not him, as she has just proven.

Then, suddenly, she stopped and stared straight at him.

"I thought you would not come!" she said, and Peeta almost groaned at the love in her eyes and voice.

"Katniss," Peeta said again, taking a step forward, his heart gladder than he could have thought possible. And then he staggered as a man brushed past him and walked toward Katniss.

This was the man that Katniss had smiled at and spoken to, and he was as unaware of Peeta's presence as Katniss was. A deep, vile anger consumed Peeta – which he was helpless to fight at that time.

Who was this that she met?

The man was as naked as Katniss. Who was he? Finnick? Yes…no. Peeta had an unobstructed view of the man's face, yet could not make it out. First he was sure that he wore Finnick's fair features, then they darkened, and became those of a man unknown. They were not Gale's either…

Katniss said the man's name, her voice rich with love, and it, too, was indiscernible to Peeta's ears.

"Do you know the ways of a god's love?" said the man.

"Of course," said Katniss, and she walked directly into the man's arms, her arms slipping softly about his body, and offered her mouth to his. They kissed, passionately, the kiss of a man and a woman well used to each other, and Peeta found his hands were clenched at his side. Then Katniss and her lover slid to the floor, and with a sigh of complete contentment, the man mounted her, still kissing her face.

"No!" Peeta shouted, and would have stepped forward and grabbed at the man now moving over Katniss with long, powerful strokes save that he found himself unable to move.

He could witness, but he could not interfere.

He became aware of a presence at his side and was not surprised to see Seeder there, staring at the two withering on the floor together. "What is this?" Peeta spat, fuming. "Is this the truth?"

"No." Seeder's voice echoed in the vast hall. "It is the future."

The lovers' tempo and passion intensified, and Katniss moaned and twisted, encouraging her lover in every way she could, and they kissed again, their bodies now so completely entwined, so completely merged, that they seemed but one. Peeta could not watch, could not stomach the sight…

He turned to Seeder and grasped her by the shoulders, forcing the fey goddess to look away as well.

"Tell me how to stop this!" he said. "Who is he?"

"He is…" Seeder thought for a moment. "He is whole, and a good man for her."

"I'm a good man for her," Peeta said, despairing, gesturing to his chest. "I've been protecting her."

Seeder laughed, and then eyed him in some pity. "Look again at the man. Look closely."

But when Peeta turned he saw that the man was being dragged off of Katniss, as she screamed in protest. The stranger who had come out of nowhere grunted as he delivered a blow to her lover's head and knocked him senseless. Defenseless, Katniss made to flee, but the stranger man grabbed at her animalistically, angrily, and pressed her into the nearest archway, her back hitting hard against the stone.

Her hands were on this new man's shoulders as if to push him off.

Peeta still could not move, and he watched in horror as the man's form blurred again, and became something horrible and violent. A man, yes, with a thick, muscled body, but pale and white haired.

"Coriolanus!" Katniss cried out, fighting to be free. "I don't have them! I don't!"

This Coriolanus tipped back his head and roared with laughter, and both Katniss and Peeta screamed at the same moment as the blade sunk into Katniss' belly. Blood pooled, smearing across her thighs and flanks. Coriolanus smiled down at Katniss' gapping mouth and his movements became more violent, murderous, and repeatedly drew the knife out and in, out and in. Until Katniss was barely standing.

Her head was tipped back, her face screwed up in agony, and her fists beat a useless tattoo across the hateful name's back and shoulders; a tattoo of a rose. "Katniss! Katniss!" Peeta began to scream, and for once both Katniss and Coriolanus heard him, and turned their faces to him and Peeta knew who it was in that one horrible instant. The face was unfamiliar, but the tattoo jolted through Peeta an unknown certainty – Coriolanus! The god of poison, the man whose power he drew from… or stole?

Coriolanus looked grim at the sight of Peeta, and let go of Katniss' arm. She sank slowly, hands scrabbling to keep her blood inside of her, but her eyes were on Peeta, frightened and wide. "Run!" she shouted, and that one word was enough to wake him. Violently, jerking into a sitting position in their bed, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and staring, Peeta returned to his original chamber in Locrinia.

Beside him Katniss sat up as well, and was asking him what was the matter.

"Nothing," he whispered. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

Eventually she did, but Peeta sat there the night through, awake.

All he could see, all he could hear, was the sound of Katniss' voice as she welcomed her lover.

And the sound of her screaming as the blade dove into her stomach over and over again.


The evening before the next decided departure date Katniss sought Peeta out in the verandah of Finnick's house. Peeta was exhausted — he'd spent the greater part of the day helping a team of men wrest a new mast into position on one of the ships, and the very last thing he wanted was to see her and remember that wretched dream he had but two nights ago. Still, he perked up at the sight of her.

"Peeta?"

"Hmm?" he said, hoping the disinterest in his voice and his closed eyes as he leaned back in his chair would send her away. A futile hope… because he didn't really actually want her gone…

"Joanna says Prim's within a few days of birth. Peeta… I do not want her to give birth on ship. It's a dangerous thing, with it being her first child. Can we not delay our departure until she's had her child?"

It was not what he expected and so he sat up and studied her stoic expression. She, herself, would certainly be about to drop her child soon. Her belly was huge, her ankles swollen, and her face drawn.

But he also knew Primrose was barely allowed to rise from bed anymore, and was worse off.

Actually… Peeta sat up straighter and studied Katniss closer. There was something off about her. He'd noticed since they first arrived in Finnick's city that she slept little, and though he knew she slept enough – since he shared her bed – he could not explain the paleness of her face, nor the dark circles under her eyes, and the limp in her step. "Are you unwell?" he inquired, forgetting Prim for a moment.

"I'm alright." Katniss sighed and sank into a chair next to his – he barely noticed her wince. "But I'm worried about Prim. She's terrified, and I don't want her to lose this baby. It means the world to her."

"Then we remain behind," Peeta decided – not excited to share the news to his captains.

The unrestrained smile that lit up Katniss' her face should have gladdened him, but all Peeta could see was her expression as she welcomed her lover, and her body as it writhed ecstatically under his.

"I shall tell her the new immediately," Katniss breathed and made to stand.

Peeta watched her limp out with a gathering sense of dread.


It turned out that the fleet would remain only one day longer in Locrinia. For at noon the day after Katniss asked of Peeta for the time Prim fell into labor. Peeta had never seen Katniss in such a frenzy.

He didn't remain long in the birthing chamber, only long enough to see if he was need. (He wasn't, of course.) Midwifes flooded the room, more than needed, thanks to Finnick who called for and said he would pay any and all for the healthy birth and care for Primrose and her child.

Within the chamber, for hours, Katniss sat by Prim, holding her hand and soothing her. Lavinia told Prim how to breathe and what to do when her time to bear down was upon her. Though there was pain, Prim rarely screamed or cried out, and for that Katniss was relieved. "She's strong," Jo said, impressed.

"Of course she is," Katniss said, petting the hair from Prim's sweaty face. "She's a princess."

Finnick came by to check on the status, offering his help anywhere it was needed. But Katniss could see he wanted to get back to Annie who he'd left in the other room and shooed him away.

As the sun sank in the sky, Prim's time to push came and she finally began to show her fear.

"Oh, Katniss," she said, "what if my child doesn't live? What if it is born without life? This is the last of Rory I have and it could be lost all on one mistake or mischance. What if…?" A sob escaped her.

"Hush," Katniss murmured. "Hush and breathe, and be positive. All will be well."

And sure enough, not much later, a loud cry broke on the air and Lavinia held up a healthy baby girl.

They stayed that one last night to clean Prim up, make sure the baby was unmarred by defects, and Peeta to make all the plans to sail at dawn. Many came to visit during the night, to see the new addition to the already massive fleet. Peeta dipped by remarking with surprise the child's very Greek features.

"She looks just like her father," Prim said, running her finger through the small tuft of brown hair.

Katniss sat beside her, practically glowing with pride. "She's healthy, and we will be ready to board in the morning," she told Peeta. "We can't delay this trip any longer can we?" And her smile looked real.

Has she forgotten her own coming birth? No, surely not.

Finnick came by, holding Annie by the hand and urging her in the room. She looked skittish, as she so often did whenever Finnick brought her out in public, under the watchful eyes of his people. No one seemed to know what to with their leader who had never taken a wife but was so suddenly in love.

The remaining midwives openly stared at the stunning woman, suspicious, and admiring, as well.

But Prim merely smiled, and plopped her daughter into this strange woman's arms.

Katniss knew who Annie was more than Finnick or the others, thanks to Peeta, but she did not think Annie knew that she knew the truth of her. "Be careful," she decided to say, instead of embarrassing the entire room by taking the baby back out of the unstable goddess' reach. "She's fragile."

Annie didn't seem to hear. She was entranced by the small being her arms.

Finnick nudged her and smiled. "Are you very maternal?" he teased.

"I've never held a baby so young," Annie said, then looked up at Prim. "Did it hurt very much?"

"Nothing that wasn't worth having my daughter."

Annie hummed something unintelligible – singing? – and stroked the child's face.

Finnick watched her watch the infant and Katniss could see his thoughts brewing.

Many hours later, Katniss watched Annie and Finnick leave, wondering who would hurt more the day he died of old age, and Annie was force to live on, forever immortal and untouched by time.


They sailed on a bright, late summer morning the day after Prim's daughter's birth, Aurora.

(Aurora, after the mother they shared. "But she was a whore, Prim," Katniss explained. "The name is ill-suited for a princess of a princess. Isn't there another name you liked? There has to be!"

Prim shook her head, stubborn. "Her name is Aurora." Then she grinned, "Besides! Now I can call her Rory." And Katniss knew because of that relation to the father she could not deter her from the name.)

The citizens of Locrinia, grateful (if sad) to be leaving their condemned city, had stowed both their belongings and themselves aboard whatever vessels they could find; those several hundred who could not be fitted aboard the Locrinian fishing, merchant, and warships Peeta managed to find space for on his owns ships. It would be a crowd, but from what Finnick and other Locrinian captains told him, with luck it would only be a short voyage of under ten days to reach the island of Albion where lay Panem.

It would need to be under that space of time, Peeta thought the morning of their departure, the autumn storms are very close upon us, and we can't risk another day of delay if we should be free of them.

But, fortunately, this day was fine. (He could not decide if Annie had anything to do with that.) The waters of the bay, thronged with black-hulled vessels of every shape and size, glittered under the warm sun. Every ship had jewel-colored pennants fluttering from their masts and stem posts, and along every side of every hull oars lifted, waiting for the cries of the orderers. On their decks, and packed into their hulls, brightly clothed men, women, and children shouted and waved to friends and relatives in neighboring ships.

Autumn storms notwithstanding, Peeta knew they were leaving only just in time. In the past several weeks more and more of Locrinia had been collapsing: this past week alone had witnessed the final destruction of over fifty homes. They had not even needed the rains to arrive to come down. The cracks had spread farther and farther every day so that by the time the Locrinians had boarded, there remained only about half of the city habitable.

And even that, Peeta thought, would crumble into the sea within weeks of their departure.

He'd managed to put into the back of his mind the resemblance of the cracks here to those that had swept through Mesopotamia. Coincidence or not, every town or city occasionally suffered the depravations of earth surges. If Clove influenced it, it was for the better of their plans.

"When we have gone the city will vanish," Finnick said softly at Peeta's side. He turned to stare at him.

Finnick was staring at the city, tears in his eyes. "It has been my beloved home," he said. "No matter toward what glory we might sail, Peeta, this has been my home. When it is gone the forests and grasses will creep in, and within two or three generations no one will ever know what pride and happiness existed here. My forefathers made this city and I had the honor of holding it, but it falls now."

"All things must pass," Peeta said, hating the lameness of his reply.

"Aye," said Finnick, turning away. "All things must pass."

Peeta put his back to the all-but-ruined city himself, and looked at the fleet.

For the first time, Peeta truly felt the weight of responsibility settle upon his shoulders. He now commanded a fleet containing some twelve thousand souls, all of whom had placed their trust in him to lead them to a better life. Not only would he need to command them through uncertain waters to their destination, but he would then need to negotiate with Panem's people for land on which to build New Troy. None of it would be easy… unless Clove was working on the plan as of that moment.

What was she doing? Peeta could not know and had not seen or heard from her since the island. There had not been any coming of the bands, but it seemed she knew he did not need them anymore.

Because he was done with that piece of him. He had survived near six weeks without incident and would continue to do so, even if Clove appeared and commanded that side of him utilized.

Katniss' voice, murmuring to Lavinia about the ache in her back, broke across his thoughts.

Peeta settled his gaze on his… friend/ex-wife. He noticed how she had not asked them remain behind long enough for her to give birth on land, even though it was also her first child. Perhaps… perhaps she hopes if she continues on moving toward Panem her fate will be changed.

At least that's what Peeta was now hoping.

He sailed this time on Finnick's warship rather than his own. It was more commodious than his warship, fully decked above the oar benches, and had enough cabin accommodation for Finnick, Annie, Joanna, Peeta, Katniss, Primrose and her new baby to stay comfortably, as well as for Lavinia and her husband and child, and Cato, Glimmer, and Marvel, to share the smallest of the cabins.

Peeta drew in a deep breath, and nodded to Finnick, who raised his arm in a prearranged signal.

Instantly trumpets sounded from a score of ships, and a great shout rose from those who were crowded into the ships' hulls. The orderers raised their voices and as one sang the beat, and at the sound of the beat all the oars of the one hundred and eighteen vessels in the fleet dipped into the sea.

They were on their way.


The fleet sailed north for five days, following the line of the coast to their right.

The weather favored them, and every dawn and dusk Peeta thanked Annie for her favor. She was not tried by the work, and was too glad to be the center of Finnick's attention to be weary. The ships made good headway, people stayed cheerful – indeed, often the day was filled with the sound of singing as voices passed ballads and choruses between ships – and on the fourth day Annie stood at the deck of the ship, and dolphins appeared, presumably drawn to her presences and they danced and dipped in the surging waters under the fleet's stem posts, pleasing everyone who had turn to watch them.

Finnick spoke miracles into Annie's hair and held her around the waist as they stood leaning over the rail of his great warship. Often he joked that Poseidon must truly adore her, and he would not know what to do if he tried to take her from him. "I would be a very sorry man indeed," he said.

"Would you fight him?" Annie asked, frowning. "To get me back if he stole me?"

"With everything I am," Finnick swore, but that only seemed to further upset her, and he realized this immediately. He was quick to draw her into him, and the contact seemed to soothe her shaking. "What is it?" he asked, forcing her to meet his eyes – he knew gentleness and eye contact was key, after only spending a handful of days getting to know her. "Do you fear that I might lose and die?" he wondered.

But she was beyond speaking, and shaking again, burying her face in his chest.

They did not come out the next day to soak in the sunshine.

The peace and fair sailing lasted only for those few short days.

For on the sixth day what Peeta had being dreading for so long was finally upon them.

At dawn on the sixth day leaving from Locrinia Katniss went into labor.


He'd been in asleep, lulled by the caressing motion of the ship, when Katniss had suddenly cried out.

Peeta leapt to his feet, clutching at his sword, before he realized he was not under attack at all, and that the cry had come from Katniss, now sitting amid their blankets clutching at her belly, was one of labor.

Immediately, Lavinia arrived, groaning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Lavinia?" Peeta said, hoping the woman might have some magical words to utter that might restrict Katniss to a more dignified moaning. At that point Katniss was curled up around herself, and Lavinia made a face at the show. She squatted down by Katniss, and put her hands on Katniss' belly..

"It is the baby," Katniss gasped. "It hurts!" Then she howled as another contraction gripped her.

"It is nothing more than all women bear!" Lavinia snapped. "If you think this hurts, then wait until this evening!" Peeta tried not to let the condescending tone of her voice bother him. Lavinia's knowledge on this was greater than his and her lazy and knowing movements in this situation were reassuring.

But once her hand shifted to the underside of Katniss' belly, Lavinia's face paled.

"Katniss?" she asked, moving with sudden purpose. Lavinia grabbed Katniss' shoulders and forced her to uncurl, to make her look into her face, but when Katniss' eyes opened they were dull with pain

"What is it?" Peeta demanded, sinking onto the bed. "Is something wrong?"

Lavinia didn't answer him, but called out loudly for Joanna. After several more cries, a very ruffled and unhappy Joanna arrived in their cabin, tying a robe around her waist. But the scowl on her face broke when she heard Katniss' next groan of pain and she moved forward without thought.

Peeta moved around them, asking questions until finally Joanna answered. She pulled her hands from Katniss' belly, frowning deeply, and said, "The baby has not moved in the womb as it should." She laid a hand on the belly, just under her ribs. "His head is here, tucked beneath my heart, and it should be –"

"Will it kill her?" he cut in, not understanding midwifery knowledge.

"No." And with that the woman shooed him. He decided he'd heard enough of her pain anyway – wondering more now than ever about Glimmer's prediction – and snatching at the tunic and cloak he'd taken to wearing in these cooler northern climes, Peeta beat a hasty retreat to the deck.


Lavinia and Joanna did not have to bear the burden of Katniss' labor alone. Primrose joined her sister within moments of Peeta vacating the cabin, and two other women, experienced midwives that had helped Prim deliver her baby less than a week ago, joined them shortly thereafter.

Altogether Katniss had the care of five women who had knowledge of childbirth both personally and through aiding scores of other women give birth. But their aid was of little use to Katniss. It became clear that her labor would not be as easy as Prim's was. She was not as young a girl, but still growing herself, and as Joanna had said, the baby had not moved about in the womb as it should so that it could be born headfirst. Instead, it was a breech presentation, and no matter how much Katniss labored, the child would not shift. Many of the midwives tried to coax the breech child around to the way it should be for a proper birth using their hands, leaving Katniss heavily bruised and sore, all to no good results.

Caught in the unknown, gripped by horrific pain, Katniss descended into a panic. She tried not to scream often, but she did, and she tried to breathe and sit, but contractions tore through her worse whenever… she did anything. The unease of her companions did nothing to soothe her.

The threat of Glimmer's vision hung over her like a storm cloud each moment she spent in pain.

Prim tried to calm her, and Katniss did remain composure, but not in a way that reassured.

If she was not outright screaming and gripping at her stomach, Katniss was curled up against the bottom of the wall – since they had thought to make her squat, leaning against the wood – and instead of screaming, she shook and buried her face in her knees, breathing tight and hard, unresponsive.

Peeta, standing as far away from the cabin as possibly he could, nevertheless heard every shriek, every groan that every did escapes her when she lost control. It tore on his nerves, driving him to distraction.

Marvel stood with him, offering as much sympathy and support as he could; Finnick paced up and down the deck of the ship, looking alternatively between the cabin and Peeta, his expression worried.

Worried for what? Peeta thought, darkly. That he might lose Katniss? She should be nothing but just a woman to him, there was no reason for him to evidence such concern. But then he shook himself.

Finnick had Annie, and his concern was only that of a friends.

"All women scream during labor," Marvel offered hopefully. "It helps them to expel the baby."

"Katniss will be well, have no doubt," Annie said, softly, scarcely heard.

Peeta caught Glimmer's eye from across the deck, and did not answer.

"Did you not say this would be a son?" Marvel said, trying frantically to find something cheerful to say. Katniss' wails were echoing down the entire ship, setting children to crying, and the adults to much muttering and rolling of eyes. Marvel's attempts were kindly put, but Peeta wondered what he would be saying if he knew that soon… rather very soon, Katniss would not be screaming any longer.

Queries started being shouted from other ships, concerned at the racket emanating from Finnick's vessel, and Peeta grew heartily tired of having to shout back that it was just his wife, giving birth.

In the midafternoon, when not only Peeta's nerves, but those of everyone else on board, had been frayed to the breaking point, Lavinia and Joanna emerged from the cabin, both grim.

Joanna caught sight of Peeta at the stem post of the ship, and marched resolutely toward him.

"Is the child born?" asked Peeta.

"I wish to the gods it were!" Lavinia shouted from where she stood.

Joanna brushed off the comment. "The kid lays wrong in the womb… and no matter what we do or Katniss tries it will not turn. I've never seen a child so stubborn. It can't be birthed this way."

Finnick had walked over. "What do you do with a baby that can't be birthed? There's no way?"

"Well it can be birthed the way it is, but not without much risk to both of them."

Everyone was looking to Peeta then, waiting for him to say he was for that.

Glimmer slunk over and wound an arm through Peeta's her eyes sharp and knowing.

He took a deep breath, during which time none of the men said anything.

"I'll talk to her," Peeta finally said.

"Wait," Prim called, stepping from the cabin. Her eyes were wide and frightened – she had never seen her bigger sister this way, and never felt so helpless because of it. "I think we should get her off the ship. I had my baby just fine on land. It'll help, don't you think? The motion of the ship must disturb her and it makes her ill and takes her mind from the task at hand. Isn't a small stop worth it?"

Finnick nodded, and then turned to say something to Peeta – who had paled – but Cato spoke quickly, and in a smooth, unctuous voice, placing his hand on Peeta's arm. "Perhaps it will be a kindness to find some peasantish hovel on the coast where she can push this child out, my friend."

"It might be for the best, after all. For all of us," Glimmer added.

Peeta knew what they were saying: Let the vision fulfill its course. Let her give birth in this unknown peasant hut, and let that unknown hand slice her in two as soon as your son slides from her body.

It would be for the best.

What horrified him was that it was Prim's idea, and now, the deed would be hers to sorrow in.

For the cabin Katniss cried out, then her voice broke, and descended into a heart-wrenching sobbing.

Is the pain really that bad, or is it the knowledge that soon she will no longer be alive?

"For the gods' sakes, Peeta!" Finnick shouted, the sharpest his voice had ever been since they met. "She is your wife! Do something, anything, but remember that she is your wife! Make a decision!"

Peeta shot him an unreadable look. She is my wife no longer. But I made a promise.

And if she couldn't give birth on ship, and only in the hut that doomed her…

Then he'd stand vigilant over her until their son finally slid free and both were no longer in danger.

"As she wants, then. As she wants," Peeta said, and he strode down the deck, paused briefly outside its entrance to look uncertainly over Prim, then stepped through the door into Katniss' birthing chamber.


She was standing against the far wall, her naked body drenched in sweat, her hands clasped about her belly, her loose hair tangled around her shoulders and over her breasts; the black against the olive tone of her skin was appealing. But Peeta could not see beyond the wild twist in her eye and the pain in the lines of her face, or the shaking in legs that barely supported her.

Worse, Katniss grimaced at him in greeting.

"Seems it will be you who did it, after all," she said, her voice hoarse.

It was a physical blow of pain across Peeta's face. Of course she meant the baby was killing her.

The baby he raped her to put in her.

"You'll have the baby," Peeta said. Just like the vision saw, in that hut. "And you'll live to see him."

Katniss merely nodded, her mouth twisting and her jaw clenching as another wave of contractions took her. "Peeta," Prim said, drawing to his side. "They're steering the ship to the nearest shore."

Alarm ripped through Katniss' expression. "Why!"

"So you can birth on land," Prim said. "Like me. It'll be safer there. I just know it!"

Katniss looked scared, her eyes roving over her sister's face, and then the tension left her, and what replaced her fear was resolve. Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she nodded. "Alright. I'll go."

"Will it be safe?" Prim suddenly asked, turning to Peeta, whose eyes could not move from Katniss.

"Will you accept responsibility for it if not? For whatever consequences your demand spawns?"

Peeta whipped around to see Cato in the doorway. Peeta shook his head at his companion, but Prim took the man's words to heart. She turned about; calling the attention of the four other women in the cabin to her and asked them, "Will you bear witness? To tell everyone of my answer here."

They nodded.

"No, Prim…" Peeta tried to say.

"I will accept responsibility for whatever happens," Prim cut in. "If it means helping Katniss."

Katniss sobbed again, the force of that one bringing to her knees, and the women rushed to help her.

But this time she did not get back up, and Peeta knew that if he couldn't save her well…

Then what's the point?

He'd be losing the gift of Seeder, countless promises, and possibly the only woman he'd ever loved.


"Where are we?" Peeta said to Finnick. "What do you know of this land?" He waved at the coast.

"I know it is a bad place to stop, Peeta. It is a fair land, but filled with an ugly people. It is called Poiteran, and its leader is a woman called Alma. Peeta, are you certain that you want to –"

"It's what she wants," Glimmer said, waving at Primrose on the aft deck aiding Katniss out of the cabin.

"When you say bad," Cato jumped in as well, "how bad do you mean?"

He glanced at Peeta and somehow he heard his thoughts: Is it worth the risk to rid ourselves of Katniss?

Perplexed at having taken the words right out of his friend's mind, Peeta hardly saw Finnick bite his lip in worry. "Alma has a people jealous of intruders and greedy for the spoils of war. They will attack first, and ask questions later and even then she usually will not be interested in the answer. Only leading."

"If her people were to attack, how many men might they command?" Peeta asked. Truly worried now.

Now Finnick shrugged. "If we were to land all our warriors, they would not attack."

"But to do that we'd need a landing spot for all our ships," Marvel pointed out.

"And you'll not find it along this coast," Annie said, speaking for the first time, and pulling both her arms around Finnick's waist. "By dusk we should reach the mouth of a wide river. We will be able to shelter the majority of the fleet in the mouth, and there is landing for, oh, some four or five ships."

Peeta looked worriedly at Glimmer and Cato (so determined to see this through), then nodded. "The river mouth then. Pray to Artemis that Katniss will give us some peace until we arrive, that there will be some shelter when we land, and that Alma will be shut away in her long halls for the night."

"There will be both shelter and swords," Glimmer said. "Prepare yourselves."

Then she turned, and stared down the ship toward the cabin in which Katniss moaned.

A cold smile lit her face.


By evening, as Peeta's fleet approached the mouth of a wide and gently flowing river, a strong northwesterly wind had risen, tossing the sea into whitecapped waves that thudded cold and heavy against the hulls of the ships. The captains had ordered the sails stowed and the oarsmen to their benches to dip and hold their oars against the prevailing wind so the ships would slowly come about into the sheltered mouth of the river.

Annie shrugged when Peeta looked at her oddly and he joined Cato, Finnick, and Glimmer by the stem post of their ship. All were wet with spray and shivering in the wind. "Where is it?" Peeta asked, looking out to sea rather than into the dim outline of the coast around the river mouth.

"What?" Glimmer and Finnick said together.

"Panem," said Peeta. "It is close, is it not?"

Finnick nodded, hugging Annie's gentle shoulders with his arms in an effort to keep warm. He looked to the northwest. "There, a day's sail if the weather is good, an eternity at the bottom of the cold gray witch sea if she turns against you. If it were noon, and the weather clear and still, you might even be able to see those white cliffs."

Peeta looked at Cato, tightening anticipation in his belly. "Tomorrow then, perhaps."

"Aye," said Cato, his teeth gleaming in the gloom, and the wind whipping his hair about his face, "but tonight we must collect your son."

Peeta glanced at the cabin, heavy with silence. "Annie, can we maneuver this ship close to shore?"

Everyone seemed surprised he addressed her with this question – and he supposes they should be. It is supposed to be Finnick who knows this land better than anyone. But Annie answered with ease and more knowledge than Finnick could: "Aye, these shores are kind, see? Shallow waters are protected by that headland. We can row in to a point not twenty paces from the shore, and then wade our way in."

"Do it," Peeta said to his captains, "and signal four other ships to accompany us, and the rest to weigh anchor in the shelter of the bay. Cato, arm our warriors. We will be ashore soon. And let's be prepared."


Katniss started and took a step back as Peeta entered the cabin, with Glimmer in tow. She looked far worse than she had earlier, her hair now completely matted to her head and neck, her rib cage rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths, her skin sallow and slick with sweat, her great belly protruding before her, red welts running across it as if Katniss had clawed at herself in her extremity. And her eyes were terrified and flat, staring at Glimmer from sunken flesh bruised with deep blue shadows.

There was hatred there, too, between the two women. "She can't come," Katniss snapped.

Peeta agreed to the command and Glimmer, looking wounded and disbelieving, stomped off.

"That was not nicely done," Prim murmured, petting Katniss arm.

Katniss looked to her sister, the hatred fading and her expression going blank. Peeta suspected she was hiding longing and pain, and grief. "You can't come either," Katniss told Prim. "Stay here."

Prim protested much (and loudly, and with tears), but Peeta had her restrained and escorted out by one of his soldiers. Katniss visibly relaxed once her sister was gone, her limbs trembling, and she let out a moan. All her defiance had fled hours ago. She was readying to die, and it made Peeta feel sick.

"Well?" Peeta said to Lavinia, hoping for a status.

"It will not be long," Lavinia said, her voice sounding almost as exhausted Katniss looked.

"Whatever happens, it will not be long now," Joanna agreed.

Peeta took a deep breath, and Jo looked at him sharply, wondering why it had trembled in his throat.

"Cover her with a cloak," he said, and it was done, Jo quickly bundling her up with her own color convection. "Can you walk?" Peeta asked, and when she shook her head he held his arms out to Katniss.

Though pregnant she felt lighter than air as Peeta cradled her in his arms. Katniss murmured in his ear, "I don't want Joanna with me, either. But she will not go at my command." A pause, then: "Please."

She did not have to add the please. "Joanna, go find Prim and comfort her."

The woman looked as wounded as Glimmer, and clenched her fists. "I will not be shooed like a child!"

Peeta paused on his way to the door. "You want me to allow you to come and risk your life in this foolish misadventure? I will not! I treasure my friendship with Finnick too much to allow that." His eyes flickered to the other midwives – he had to take at least one. "Lavinia will accompany us."

Then he walked out.

Lavinia narrowed her eyes at Peeta's back, resentful that Peeta was willing to risk her where he was not willing to risk Joanna. Joanna herself had to be dragged unwilling by two soldiers to be restrained in the same cabin Primrose was currently wailing to be free of – Lavinia would have gladly been left out after this dreadful day spent trying to make Katniss' childbirth as painless as possible.

She felt that if Peeta decided to take the child by force, she would hand him the knife herself.


There were some thirty or thirty-five armed men cloaked and wrapped against the cold, standing at the side of the ship. Peeta was there, Katniss in his arms, and Lavinia and the two other midwives moved dutifully to his side. They stood for an immeasurable moment, waiting, as he stared in the distance.

It was full night now, and the coast line loomed large and threatening in the dark.

"All will be well," he whispered to Katniss, then, nodding at the other men, he stepped over the side of the ship and dropped into the shallow water. The landing barely jarred him, and nothing jarred her at all.

But the water did splash up and over them, and even though Lavinia knew she, too, shortly would be up to her thighs in the freezing water, she could not help but smile at the sound of Katniss' shocked cry.

On the deck Cato stepped forward to help the midwives down. Lavinia climbed down a rope ladder set against the hull, dropping the final few feet into the water. Gods, but it was cold! She gritted her teeth, hugged the dry portions of her cloak closer about her, and looked ahead.

Already, Peeta was little more than a black hulk on the beach standing against the slightly less black night sky. He had yet to put Katniss down, she saw, and scowled at that. Katniss would not have to crawl her way to shore against the tugging water, despite that this trip was for her.

There were splashes about her as the other midwives and the warriors jumped into the water. Thirty paces distant, additional warriors dropped from several other ships, and Lavinia clenched her jaw, and set about wading toward the dim shoreline. It was a long, hard, and viciously cold wade, and by the time Lavinia reached the shore, she hated Katniss like she had never hated anyone before.


They huddled together twenty paces in front the waterline under the shelter of a group of wind-blasted and barely leaved trees. Most of them were shivering by now, as Peeta spoke quickly, ordering the majority of the warriors, perhaps numbering one hundred and fifty, to fan out about them.

He still held tight to Katniss, who was moaning incessantly now, her hands clenching, then releasing where they gripped Peeta's cloak. She sagged against him, but he gave no sign of weakening.

"We must hurry," Lavinia said to him, "if you do not want your child born on this beach."

Peeta began to order several of the remaining warriors to search for shelter, but Cato, shivering so badly that Lavinia thought he looked as if he were in labor himself, interrupted him. "It is that way," Cato said, pointing to a small rise some forty or fifty paces away. "On the sheltered side of the hill."

His eyes were cold, and so bland they shone almost silver in the faint light.

Peeta stared at Cato, and then his face became dark, and Cato smiled, bright and eager, as Katniss began twisting in pain again. For the first time, Lavinia felt a twist of unease. What goes on here?

Beside her, Finnick murmured in concern.

The soil was sandy, soft, and hard on calves. Lavinia found herself panting within paces of starting up the slope of the hill, the sodden portions of her cloak and robe twisting about her legs so that, on several occasions, she fell over. But every time she fell Finnick stepped forward, aiding her to rise.

At the top of the hill Lavinia looked down, and almost sobbed with relief. There was a small hut not thirty paces away; little more than a lean-to, it had wicker walls, branches and the tattered remnants of matting as a roof, and a bleak gap to serve as a door. Humble as it was, the hut would keep most of the wind out, and it looked reasonably dry, and for that Lavinia thought she would offer sacrifice to the gods as soon as she was able. Peeta, already pulling open the hut door, Katniss in hand, called out to Lavinia, and she rushed forward, calling out herself, to the other midwives who'd been lagging behind.


There was little in the hut save a cold hearth in the center of the packed dirt floor, and a raised bed of turf and rushes against the far wall. Peeta carefully laid Katniss onto the bed, where she instantly rolled her back to them, and drew her knees up to her belly in agony. Peeta murmured something to her, and Lavinia knew it had to be sweet because of his tortured expression, but the words were waste.

Katniss had stopped listening.

"There is a lamp," said Cato, "I will light it."

Peeta motioned Lavinia and the other midwives inside – they hastened immediately to where Katniss lay curled about her belly on the bed – then he walked to the door. He drew his sword and Lavinia felt her chest tighten in fear at the fierce look in his blue eyes. "Stay here, Cato," Peeta said, then was gone.

Cato's teeth gleamed in the first sputtering light of the lamp. "Oh, aye."


Lavinia had not liked the sight of their exchange at all. She looked at the other women, who returned her look with wide-eyed fear, then turned back to Katniss. By rights Katniss should be squatting to deliver her child, but Lavinia held no hopes of being able to get Katniss off this bed.

Well, if she wanted to give birth lying down, then she would just have to endure the additional suffering in the doing. So without any gentleness in their hands, Lavinia and another midwife grabbed Katniss' knees, rolled her onto her back, and forced her legs up and apart, and Katniss complied.

Lavinia gave a great sigh of relief. "Look, the baby's head crowns."

"It must have turned in the cold water!" squealed the third midwife, delighted.

And if I'd known cold water would help so much, Lavinia thought, I would have dropped Katniss overboard long before this.

A shout from outside rouse, then a bloodcurdling war cry, and a clash of sword against sword.

Lavinia and the two midwives glanced fearfully at each other, but Cato merely grinned. "It begins," he said, and Lavinia wondered at what she had been caught up in, and whether she would survive it at all.

The woman beside Lavinia whimpered, glancing apprehensively toward the open door. Lavinia herself was growing more and more concerned, especially remembering Peeta's reluctance to allow the nobler Joanna to come ashore, but she also knew that if they succumbed to their fear now, then it might well be the death of them. She gave her companion a sharp pinch to bring her mind back to the task at hand, then reached between Katniss' legs to place a hand on her belly, giving the girl a reassuring pat.

"It will not be long," she said, "but now, when the pain comes, you will need to bear down."

Just then another contraction did begin, and Katniss writhed on the bed, gripping her sides with strain.

Cato smiled.

The sound of fighting drew much closer, and everyone within the hut tensed, looking to the door. They could see bodies silhouetted against the faint starlight outside now, struggling, the blades of swords and knives flashing, sometimes clean, sometimes dulled with blood. Shouts rang from everywhere.

Soon…Soon… Cato thought.

Katniss' concentration suddenly snapped and she screamed, once, her body almost lifting off the bed with the strength of her agony, and Lavinia was shouting at her to bear down! bear down! While the other women were no longer at the bedside at all, but had scuttled on her hands and knees to the door as if seeking escape, and disappeared in the night, leaving Cato, Lavinia, and Katniss alone.

The fighting drew much, much closer, and Cato, still watching — eyes wide, mouth open, breath panting in the extremity of his own excitement — could plainly now make out the features of those who fought. The attackers, Alma's people, fought stark naked, their hairy bodies daubed with blue clay, their faces strangely tattooed in blue-black ink, and their genitals stained with some black substance.

They were a monstrous people, and when Cato saw Katniss glimpse one, he enjoyed her fear.

As Cato watched, one of the Poiterans suddenly screamed in the midst of battle, his sword dropping from nerveless fingers as the blade of a Trojan sword emerged from his belly, and killed him.

At that precise moment, the baby slithered from Katniss' body in time to a final, brutal scream from its mother; Lavinia gave a triumphant yell. And one of the midwives, who had fled moment before, came running back to the hut in hopes of protection, and she was just entering the doorway… when she was impaled on the sword of the gigantic Poiteran who had just stepped through the opening.

His fierce eyes fixed on Cato, the Poiteran, a monstrously huge man caked in dried blue clay, put his hand to the dying, screaming woman's shoulder, and pushed her off his sword. Lavinia watch in terror as she fell on the floor, hands to her belly, her mouth open in now-silent shrieks, convulsed, and died.

Cato gave one glance to the bed – a baby boy lay in Lavinia's reach, his arms and legs waving weakly, his tiny face screwed up with the injustice of his barbaric entry into the world; Lavinia's free hand scrambled to cut the umbilical cord while she nonetheless stared (horrified) at the Poiteran who had now taken one farther step toward Cato; while Katniss was trying to raise herself up, to reach down to the child, oblivious of everything but it.

Cato looked back to the Poiteran who towered only a pace away.

"Kill her," he said, throwing his chin Katniss' way. "Kill her now."

The Poiteran looked at the woman and the child, hefted his sword, but before he could swing, or move, Peeta blundered into the hut, brandishing his own weapon and came at the blue-man. "Cato!" Peeta cried as he parried and blocked and then dove – only to miss. "Get them out and to the ship!"

Cato didn't move.

"Cato!"

Peeta fought hard with the blue-man, until he finally cut a slash on the man's chest, distracting him. Heaving, Peeta thrust a final time and the sword cut open the Poiteran's throat. Ripped his weapon free, uncaring of the blood that stained his face on the withdrawal and the thud of the body, and Peeta whirled on Cato, fuming. "You think to disobey me!" he shouted. "Get out of my sight!"

When Cato did not move, but merely raised an eyebrow at his prince Peeta loomed closer. Something in him changed. Not just within the hard lines of Peeta's face, or the set of his arms, but something internal changed in Peeta and Cato saw and felt the change as if physically. Whatever it was it seemed to dim the light in the hut and the starlight beyond, and Cato could not look away from his blue eyes.

Fear filled Cato, and where Peeta seemed just a man before, now seemed a true Hades indeed.

"Get out or I will make sure you spend eternity within my realm, burning, for what you've tried to do!"

Cato turned, tripped on his footing, scrambled to his feet again, and ran out into the night.

And he did not stop running once he hit the beach, he ran passed Trojan men, and into the trees.

He ran until he was lost in the wilderness, and could hear Alma's people more than his own.

He ran that night, and Peeta thought to never see Cato's face ever again.


I think that in everyone's lives there is one moment, just that one single moment, where something happens that is so shocking, so profoundly extraordinary, that your life forever is changed.

For me that moment was when my son finally fought his way free of my body. After all the hatred and savageness of the past months, and most particularly of the preceding day – leading up to my death –, to have that child battle his way into life from my body was the most joyous moment of my entire life.

I loved him instantly, simply, and unconditionally. The way I loved my little sister, Primrose.

I — I — had produced this!

How could I ever have not wanted him? How could I ever have said I loathed and resented him? At that very moment I was so full of overwhelming love that I swear that I also loved the man who had put him inside me (and at that thought I also wondered if my wits had been totally addled by the pain).

At much as I didn't want to admit it, all that Jo and Lavinia had said to me was true.

The instant he was born, and I could see what I had made, I adored him.

If I'd had the strength, I would have pushed up and snatched my son from Lavinia's arms and put him to my breast, but as it was all I could do was try to reach down between my legs to touch my child.

I was aware of the fighting the moment it started, and I was aware of Peeta in the doorway, still fighting off the strange blue people who still surged and surrounded the hut, and I was aware that Lavinia was sobbing, terrified, and probably loathed me for putting her in this situation… but I knew all that in a detached sort of way. The way a person who knows death is coming for them and does not care.

I decided I would get up and fight, or defend myself once I had at least one touch of my child. I could say farewell to the world after that, surely. I had already said my love to Prim. So I did. I reached down and touched his downy shoulder with one finger, and a breath of ragged emotion burst from my lungs.

Something whistled through the air where an instant before my shoulders had been, burying itself in the bed behind me, but I barely turned to see Peeta slaughter the offending sword-swinger. I leaned farther forward, disregarding the pain it caused my body, and ran my hand over my son's head, savoring it.

Lavinia was still screaming about something, and suddenly, Peeta spoke to her – I could not discern his words, but she must have, because she began nodding and helped him pull me to my feet. It hurt, a lot, and I screwed my jaw too tight to scream, and let the robe hide my ravish nakedness. I leaned heavily into Lavinia, despite my wish to be able to move on my own, and Peeta moved in an arch in front of us.

I realized we were surrounded by men, and I slid one arm around Lavinia's shoulder, hers around my waist, while my other hand did not stray from my son's head. He had golden ringlets, bright little wisps.

Somehow we made it out of the hut. I came to this conclusion when I felt sandy soil underneath my bare feet and I could barely make out the dancing, fighting figures all around us with the moon so thin.

Lavinia was shaking violently against me. She kept shouting to Peeta, whom was still leading us forward, cutting down men in our ways, double back when ones threatened to come at us from the sides. At this point he was covered in blood, and some smears of half-dried blue clay, and I felt a piece of myself grow grateful for the immense effort he put forth and for one tiny moment – felt hope!

Then, Lavinia stopped dragging my weight forward. I looked up to see the red-haired woman's eyes glued on a distant fallen figure in the sand, and when she shouted "Pelopan!" the name of her husband, she shoved the baby into my arms, let go of me – so that I fell to my knees – and ran to aid him.

I didn't bother shouting at Lavinia's back, but worked on properly cradling the infant in my arms, and not slumping over in the sand. "Shush," I murmured to the boy, and, oh, hear his cries! "Shush…"

Then someone grabbed my hair.


Everything changed. Abruptly, my senses came back, and I could open my eyes wider, to see what was happening about me: men everywhere fought, blue and naked, or Trojan and darkly cloaked, moving as if shadows around me, but too close for comfort… so close I could smell the blood and the cold metal of their blades, and hear the wet, final breaths of those wounded and on the ground. I could hear Peeta's voice, somewhere far ahead, and he was frantic and – I could tell – scared, calling for me.

I heard a voice singing from the ships and knew, strangely, that it was Annie.

There was a man behind me, holding me by my hair, and he stank fouler even than that of the spilled bowels in the sand a few feet to my left. His cruel twist of my head reminded me oddly of when I was dragged through the palace in Mesopotamia to meet Peeta, our conqueror. But I knew better.

I knew I would not be taken to this savage people's leader. I was very likely about to die.

Still, perhaps strangely, this did not particularly perturb me. What little hope that had been stirred, fell away, and I only wanted to push my son into someone else's arms before I fell over, dead. But I twisted my face, and looked anyway. Because if I was honest with myself, I didn't want to roll over and give in.

I was not that type of person.

The great naked hulk of a man loomed behind me. His body – ugh! What a hairy gut he had! – was caked thickly with this blue clay I can see on all the other savages. His face was a messy web of close-woven black-inked lines, his eyes wild and staring from their midst. His genitals, wobbling on a level close with my eyes, looked as though they'd been tattooed completely black. They smelt diseased.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust, and out of the corner of my eyes, saw him raise a blood-daubed sword on high. His mouth parted, and his teeth gleamed. Peeta was screaming in the background.

And I snapped. I'd simply had enough. This day had been bad enough without this disgusting hulk trying to murder me. I raised my hand, so recently on my son's head, and grabbed the monster by a man's softest spot; below the belt, to be sure. Then, infuriated with everything from Glimmer's vision of my death, Clove, and all trouble recently caused, I yanked the repulsive member as hard as I could.

At once, the man screeched, his sword dropping from his hand. He half doubled over, his eyes popping, his mouth open and making funny gasping sounds. I pulled again, really viciously this time, and the man toppled over, and fell directly on top of another man lying face-first, screaming, in the sand.

On shaking legs, I stood, no longer dwarfed by the men all around me and, by emerging from the place where I had been hidden from sight, Peeta, Finnick, and Marvel spotted me from where they stood.

Only one semi-hysterical sound managed to escape me, before Peeta and the men broke a path to me, and approached. I moved to meet them, my steps heavy, but surefooted. I held our son out for Peeta's reaching hands, his sword now back in its scabbard, and when the infant settled in those hands…

That's when it happened.

Behind me a fierce cry of utter joy rose, raising the hair on the back of my neck and arms, and chilling me, so much so, that I barely felt the sword that buried itself in my back and burst through my stomach.

Pain like I had never known coursed through me. The warrior at my back twisted the sword, crowing with delight at the shock on all the men's faces who stood frozen in horror at my front, then jerked it to one side, spilling blood rapidly down my legs to pool in the sand. I felt my face fall.

I saw Peeta's face crumble in a mixture of failure, guilt, and grief, before Finnick took the baby from his arms, and Marvel flung himself at the warrior at my back, killing him in one blow. As he died the blue-man let go of the sword, left protruding from my midriff, and I felt a cold sweep through my legs and pull me to the ground. But Peeta lunged forward and caught me before I could hit the sand.

Blood was everywhere. On my hand, on his, all over him. It was I could smell and feel on my skin as Peeta struggled to get a non-slippery hold my body, without further moving the sword. He was shouting at someone to bring a healer, but I could see Finnick shaking his head beyond Peeta's shoulder.

There was no fixing me.

I tried to say something – something reassuring… probably that I didn't hate him at all, so he knew, but all that came out of my mouth was a sputtering of blood, that rolled over my lips and down my chin.

"No, no, no," Peeta was saying, wiping the blood from my face. He was crying, I realized in horror. I'd never seen him cry. Not the prince and heir of Troy, not a god. "I promised, I'm so sorry. I promised."

So did I, I thought, faintly, before I took one last grappling breath, and died.


Peeta roared when the body of his wife went limp in his arms.

At that point the battle on the beach had dwindled, largely thanks to enforcement that jumped from the ships and scared the blue-men off, and those last few stranglers fled at the sound of Peeta's shout. It was no normal shout, surely, and it filled his men with fear and foreboding.

Finnick, holding the still screaming new-born, warded off the soldiers who meant to confront their shouting, incoherent general, and he watch Peeta sink to the ground, clutching Katniss' body out the corner of his eye.

Peeta started shouting words, and without warning, when Finnick turned fully around he saw Annie there next to the two. Finnick blinked. He hadn't seen Annie climb up the beach, or out of the boat.

Peeta was saying something to her, fast and stumbled, and Annie shrugged, then started shaking.

Peeta threw back his head and shouted again, less roar, more a name.

And suddenly there was a third figure there, a hulking dark-skinned man, who scowled down at Peeta.

Peeta had Katniss curled protectively into his chest and craned his head back to meet the dark-skinned man's eyes since he was so tall. A god? Finnick wondered. The men hushed, trying to hear their words.

"What is it you want?" the newly arrived man thundered. He glanced around at the beach in distaste, then his eyes fell on Annie and he frowned. "What have you two gotten into and why call me?"

Annie knows this man? Finnick wondered, patting the infant now, to silence it. And Peeta, too?

Peeta spoke too quietly for any of the surrounding men to hear.

Just as Annie had done, the large man shrugged at what Peeta had asked.

"Do you two know nothing!?" Peeta shouted; the first coherent thing his soldiers could hear.

Finnick finally broke passed the line he had been pacing, not trying to get involved, but once Peeta started to yell at Annie he strutted their way, jaw clenched, and infant clutched to his chest. "Peeta!" he called. Annie and the man looked up, but Peeta didn't even turn his head. He muttered something else.

That time Annie had an answer. "You only have to think of a haven and it will take you."

"That's all it takes?" Peeta asked, uncertain.

The large man grunted. "It's true."

Finnick was nearer now, almost standing at their sides. Clove enough to hear that last exchange of words and to make out the freckles he so loved on Annie's shoulders. He could see Peeta screw his eyes shut, and cling to Katniss extra tight, clearly concentrating. And just before he reached them…

They were gone.

Annie and the man were still there, but Peeta and Katniss' corpse had dissipated from sight.

What was left of them was the warrior's sword, and a pool of Katniss' blood.

"Where'd they go?" Finnick said, looking to the two left. "Where'd they go? How..?"

"He means to save her," the big man said, and shrugged his lumber shoulders. "A waste, I'd say."

"He loves her, Thresh," Annie replied, certain, but her voice small. "He'll forget Clove."

Thresh smiled, showing blindingly white teeth. "Aye, that's the one good thing out of this."

"Annie?" Finnick said, cautiously. But she turned to look up at this Thresh god-man.

"Do you think his plan will work?" she asked.

Thresh boomed with laughter. "Why, he's the god of death. Of course it'll work!"

"Peeta isn't the god of death," Marvel said, stepping up, clearly bewildered.

"Oh?" Thresh looked over the approaching men closely. "I suppose he didn't want to tell you."

"Tell us what!" shouted a soldier.

"What I've just told you," Thresh said, impatient. "Peeta is the new Hades; ruler of the Underworld. I wouldn't advise you wait out here in the cold for him, as he's just commuted home, and I'd urge you to board your ships, but what do I know?" He flashed a smile at Annie. "I'm just the new Zeus."

And before any could process his words, he dissipated as well.

Annie stared after him for a long while.

"Annie?" Finnick took a tentative step toward her and touched her hand. "What's going on?"

"I have to go now," she whispered, and before he could protest his fingers fell through her hand and she was gone. All of them had dissipated out of thin air, - if not arrived that way – and the once shouting crowd of soldiers stood completely still; too stunned to speak, god-struck, surely, by their presence.

When Finnick recovered from a gut wrenching pain – caused by disappointment surging deep in him telling him he may not see such a beautiful and wondrous woman again – he turned and took command.

Thus he found himself leading a trudge of Trojans to their fleet, an infantile prince of Troy in his arms.


Peeta had clung onto Katniss, doing just what Annie and Thresh had advised. He had asked them how he could enter his own domain, the Underworld, and they told him to concentrate on a haven, a safe place, a home, and despite himself… he could not think of an underworld haven. When he thought of a safe place he thought of lying with Katniss late at night, counting her breaths, or that night in the hills when she had sung to him and pet his hair and allowed him a kiss.

Gods, he didn't want to lose her.

She was already dead, he knew. He'd felt it the moment the life faded entirely from her, and she had slumped into his chest. But he also knows what he'd done… what he'd done… "Oh gods," he said, – ignoring how ironic and strange it was to pray to himself – "you can't die. You hear me? You can't!"

When Cato had stood there, watching as one of the savages closed in on Katniss, Peeta had never felt angrier or more betrayal in his life, and yet, he had given Cato another chance when he asked his old friend to get the women and the new born out of the hut safely – and again, Cato declined.

And when Peeta had spared him again for that, Cato defied him by not leaving his sight.

Angrier than he'd ever been, scared, and overcome with the sounds of closing in enemies around the hut, he had done something… unintentionally… or not? He didn't know he was going to do it, but once it started he dove right for it and did not stop, because he knew he needed the strength…

In those moments… he had been so tempted to turn to the bands and his other half for strength and the ability to block out the stinging pain that came with Cato's betrayal – and he also knew they could dull his fear – but he had not succumbed. In a fit of effort, he had reached for the power, on instinct, thinking he could not save her otherwise, but something strong in him wretched away and… diverted.

Using his weak gift of Hades he established a source of power somewhere else. Not in the bands, which were already a source of power for the god of poison. A new one, and it was no god well – as that was the kind of power source that made a god immortal – but it was strong, he knew, and he resonated with the object in which he diverted towards.

Object? No. Katniss was much more than that – friend, love, ex-wife, mother of his son.

And now, his source of power.

Or was… for that brief space of time before a sword buried itself in her back.

As he concentrated on her, on his haven, he heard the sound of the beach and the crowd fade away. The sand underneath him turned hard and solid, and when he opened his eyes he was not in the Underworld.

He was in the stone hall, the one from his wretched dream with the archways and gold dome roof.

Katniss' blood smeared the white marble floor as Peeta carefully laid her out, his mind running frantic, and he straightened her arms at her side and made her legs perfectly straight and closer her dull eyes.

Behind him someone approached, but Peeta didn't turn to see who or why. He placed one large hand over the gaping hole in Katniss' midriff, closed his eyes, and concentrated. On what? He wasn't sure.

"Let me help you," said a soft, girlish voice, and two small hands slid over Peeta's.

He opened his eyes to see Rue, the small, big brown eyed girl he'd seen at the last Enlightened meeting.

"You can fix her?" Peeta asked, his voice cracking.

"I can heal her body, yes," Rue said, softly, and surely as she spoke, her hands moved over the wound and Peeta could see Katniss' body begin to mend itself. "But I can't restore her soul." Rue glanced up at him; sweet and innocent somehow even with her hands wrist deep in blood. "You can, though."

"I can?"

"You're the God of the Underworld, Peeta," Rue said. "All souls go to you for judgment."

"How do I…" Peeta took a long breath. "How do I restore it in her body?"

"I can't know." Rue frowned, and looked truly sorry. "Just concentrate. It took me a long while to figure out how to use my gifts once I established a source of power… it took a lot of concentration."

"But I don't have one now… I did briefly, and I felt all the power, I did… it was almost too much…"

"What happened to the source? Was it a god well? Is it in a safe place now? You have to be careful when you do that, Peeta. A wrongly placed or ill made source of power can kill a careless god."

"I know." He knew that better than most, knowing what he did to Hades. "It was her."

"Her? You used a person as your power source?"

Peeta stroked the side of Katniss' face and nodded glumly.

Rue looked surprised. "It takes great love to do that," she said, matter of fact.

"I suppose I love her then."

"I suppose…" Rue finished healing Katniss' body then, and drew back, sitting on her heels. She had not known what Peeta was doing appearing in this hall…. Does he know where he is? Had he known she was here? … Rue shook her head to clear it. "She's as good as new once she has her soul."

Peeta nodded, closed his eyes and concentrated but Rue made a squeak of protest. "How do you expect it to work if you've no power source? She's dead, so now your one power source is gone. To make another… well it isn't supposed to be an easy and instant thing… and I don't know how she became your power source so briefly, but that was a onetime thing, and…" she trailed off.

Peeta frowned. "Is it possible for me to retain some power? Cause I can feel it still. I had enough to come here after she died – wherever here is – and I can still feel power coming to me, weak, but there."

"That's impossible."

"Well I feel it," Peeta said, pulling his hand to Katniss' heart, and he leaned over her. "And I will try."

Rue let him try all he wanted. And try he did. He did a great many things; holding her hands, pressing both to her chest and heart, cradling her face, murmuring prayers, singing a song to her under his breath, and outright begging. But nothing seemed to work in his favor, and Rue stood to stretch her legs, wandering down the length of the endless hall of archways, peering into some as she passed.

She had only been here once before this time, and it had been at Seeder's invitation, and considering it was Seeder's domain it was not that surprising to be invited the by Seeder. But, to Rue's disappointment, and suspicion, when she got Seeder's mental call/invitation minutes before Peeta showed up, it had been distinctively weak.

In fact, Seeder sounded pained.

Rue gasped, and then called out, "Seeder? Where are you?"

She did not expect Seeder to come strutting out one of the archways. Actually if Rue's theory was correct Seeder would be doubled over somewhere in pain, barely holding on. Worried she may be correct Rue began to check each archway frantically, calling out Seeder's name in her mind.

"What are you doing?" Peeta called to Rue down the length of the stone hall.

Rue turned on her toes, caught, and deliberated to tell him. "I think I figured it out."

"Figured out what?"

"What Seeder has been up to for these past months, and what you meant about still getting a little."

"Well, out with it," Peeta said, eager to listen.

Rue lifted an arm and pointed at Katniss lying motionless on the floor. "Her!"

Peeta put up a front of patience and said, "We already established I put my source in her…"

"Yes, yes," Rue said. "But so did Seeder!"

Peeta double took. "Is that possible?"

"I don't know. But it has to be true. Clove has been searching for Seeder's source of power for months now, and she hasn't been able to find it, because Seeder hid it right underneath Clove's nose! Right there, at your side, even!" Rue laughed happily at that – as she did not like Clove and adored Seeder.

Peeta looked over at Katniss, and his gut twisted. So that must be why Clove hated her instinctively…

"Seeder called me here, to her domain, minutes ago… probably right when the sword went through Katniss, and I had been waiting for Seeder when you appeared. Right there, holding Katniss' limp form and I knew I had to heal her. That I was called here just so I could heal her."

"Then where's Seeder?" Peeta asked, looking about, and looking lost.

"Weak," Rue admitted. "She probably used the last of her strength calling out for me, and is just barely clinging to life. Katniss was her power source for more than a few minutes, evidently, and the blow will have crippled her… if not is currently killing her. But so long as she's still here… I think you get some of her power, too. And that you give her some power as well. I'm not sure how it would work, but since Katniss was her source and a piece of Katniss held Seeder inside her… and then you fit yourself inside Katniss as well, when you made her your power source, yours and Seeder's pieces must have meddled."

"Should that worry me?"

This time Rue shrugged. "It may be just what saved Seeder from instant death."

"It did," said a voice farther down the hall. The fey dark goddess, Seeder, leaned into a few archways away, holding her stomach as if she were the one stabbed. "And it's time to restore her and us, to full power." Her deep brown eyes found Peeta's. "I can teach you how to call back a soul."

"I would be immensely grateful," said Peeta, and Seeder moved slowly to his side.

Rue watched Seeder whisper in Peeta's ear, for what seemed like hours, until he nodded.

"Katniss Everdeen," Peeta whispered, the push of his words hissing through his teeth, and his hands snaked up to cup Katniss' pale face, tip it forward… and slowly, slowly, he leaned down to kiss her.

Another eternity passed with Peeta hunched over her, his lips moving over hers, as if he was speaking.

Was he? Rue wondered.

Then, as he drew back, a gasp tore its way through the corpse's lungs and Peeta cried out in triumph.

Katniss' eyes opened, stared up at the golden domed roof and blinked a few times. "Katniss?"

She looked to Peeta, then squinted at him, examining his face closely… his eyes…

"Peeta?" she whispered.

"I'm here. It's me, the real me." Peeta's hand on her cheek stroked a thumb down her jaw. And as long as you're always with me, or alive, than I will always be this me, because this is more power than I'll ever need – you. But he declined to share that with her just yet; he didn't think telling her he loved her would make her very happy, nor should it be the first thing he said to someone who just woke from the dead… at least, not Katniss; she was an entirely different kind of woman than any other, and he knew she did not return his affections… and the last thing he wanted to do was to make her feel as though she owed him, and least of all owed him false affection, in return for him bringing her back to life.

With help, he reminded himself, then looked to Seeder and Rue. He smiled. "Thank you, for everything."

"Of course," Rue said, smiling back. "I have tried to contact you before, but Clove always refused."

"Many of us have tried," Seeder agreed.

(And if Peeta in a clearer state, the fact that Clove did that would have upset him.)

Katniss sat up further, blood stained clothes clinging to her body, and she looked about, wide-eyed. "I've been here before, in a dream," she said, then looked to Seeder. "Am I dead?"

"No," Rue said happily. "I healed you, and then Peeta gave you back your soul."

Katniss stared at Rue for a moment, concern in her eyes, and then she looked to Peeta. "My soul?"

"It's a long story that surely he can tell you back on the ship, where your son awaits your return," Seeder put in, smoothly. With each second that passed she looked stronger. (And Peeta glowed with a power that made Katniss afraid to touch him, not for fear for herself, but in a revered sort of awe.) "And Peeta," Seeder continued, "I believe you have a great many question to answer for your people. They'll want to know about this little incident," she nodded to Katniss. "And how it's possible."

"I'm not even sure it's possible," Katniss said, then shook her head and looked to Peeta, and the love he saw in her eyes pulled at his heartstrings – until he realized the love was not for him: "I need to go back, to see him. Oh, he's safe isn't he? I put him in your hands just before it happened. You saw him?"

"I saw him. Finnick has him now. He's got a strong set up lungs, I know that."

Katniss' smile broke over her face like a sun – he never saw her smile like this unless it was at Prim.

"He does, doesn't he?" she said. "He's got your curls."

Peeta touched his hair briefly and chuckled – the relief was still washing over him. To see her so alive and to be moving… and the power that sung to him off of her skin and rolled off of her and into him, well it made him feel more alive than he ever had. The power flowed in his veins and his heart and threatened to brim over, but he eased into it, and it tasted slightly like the color black and what he would expect the power of the Underworld to feel like – but it also felt, smelt, and tasted like her.

"Let's just hope he has your eyes," Peeta finally said, and offered her his hand. "Shall we?"

"You can get back?" Rue asked. "With her in tow? Bringing another is trying…"

Peeta nodded; he was certain he could, somehow. "I have her," he said, and then they were gone.


Then, so strangely, another of those once in a lifetime life-altering moments came at me, just when I thought I would never have another. I woke in that wondrous stone hall where my dreams resided and when I opened my eyes – the sequence of my death running through my head in clipped images – there was Peeta, blue eyes red from tears, and blonde curls disheveled from battle. But there he was!

And I was supposed to be dead!

I didn't really understand what happened, but I knew two things: I was alive, and I was alive because of Peeta and that small brown eyed girl who had been kneeling at my side when I awoke. Seeder was there as well, and I knew she had a part to play, though I knew not what – and it didn't matter.

I was alive, and that's what mattered to me.

All I wanted to do was find Prim and my son and my niece and hold onto them.

So I stood and took Peeta's hand and, not sure what I expected, a light feeling washed over me and my stomach dropped to my feet, making me feel sick, but when Peeta dropped my hand, a cold coastal breeze ran up the side of my face and through my hair. "You can open your eyes now," Peeta said.

I hesitated, letting my other sense tell me where I am; I felt the sand between my toes, and tasted salt in my lungs, and heard the shouts of nearby Trojans who had not spotted us yet. "I feel…"

"Rue healed you," Peeta said. "It is perhaps you have never been this healthy in your life."

But it's more than that, I knew. I feel… What was it I was feeling? Elation? A rush from dying and then being brought back? Was this related to the birth of my son? I couldn't decide. Only that I felt…

Powerful; that's the best word to describe it. Not powerful, really, but refresh and fortified, somehow.

And then she opened her eyes and elation fell in dread.

Men, Trojans as well as more of those blue-clayed naked savages, lay in various poses of death, limbs hacked off, bellies peeled open and spilled over, throats opened to steam in the cold air scattered across the shore where the battle had occurred. I saw faces I knew, men who had died that I might give birth to my son. Idaeus, one of Peeta's advisors, his entire body torn apart by several sword strokes.

And beside his corpse, moaning quietly was Lavinia's husband, Pelopan. He would be dead soon, for there was a gaping wound in his left flank through which blood spurted, and his left arm had been severed completely below the elbow. I knew then why Lavinia had left me, and I could see her there, crouched at his side, holding his remaining hand and muttering fast, fleeting prayers.

And all to what purpose did these men die? For me to give birth, only? And also to die?

But I was alive, and all these men weren't, and that'll surely anger many among the Trojans to see that.


Peeta led me slowly down the beach, not once letting me step very far from his side, and his eyes sweeping the area around us constantly. Was he paranoid now? The idea was more amusing than concerning.

On the shore sat one single raft – why had they taken one out? We couldn't stay long, not after what had happened… though of course, they needed to take care of the dead… and must have wondered where their leader went and if he would return. But the closer Peeta and I got, stepping away from the trees now and cutting straight through the throngs of the dying and dead, no one looked to us.

"What is this? They can't see us?" I asked, my brow creasing. "Are you doing this?"

Peeta gave me a cautious, playful smile. "I was only trying something, having some fun. Sorry."

And I knew whatever Peeta was trying stopped when a nearby soldier's eyes rested on us and he raised a shout; that was echoed and sent one man running toward the raft. On the raft sat Primrose, tears running down her face, as she cradled two infants in her arms. I could also just make out Marvel spitting accusations at her, telling her to take responsibility as Cato had said she should. Finnick had his arm around Prim's shaking shoulders and tried to defend her.


I tore away from Peeta, and sprinted through the sand toward them.

Stunned faces followed me as I passed.

"Prim!" All those on the raft looked up – among them; Glimmer, Finnick, Marvel, and Prim – at the sound of my voice, and drew back in surprise at the sight of me. Prim rose and met me at a step and I pulled her and the babies into my chest, then glared at Marvel over her shoulder. "If you wish to blame someone, than blame me. It was for me we stopped so I may give birth, so it is with me the blame lays."

Marvel just stared at me, as he had been there for my death, and killed my murderer himself and was too shocked to respond – but Glimmer who had only heard the death from others scowled willfully. "Well then, accept the responsibility! Look about you at the death you have wrought." Glimmer threw an arm at the beach. "See the lives you have destroyed. While here you stand, untouched!"

"Untouched, to be sure," Finnick murmured, eyeing me. "How is this?"

"Because it is my will," Peeta said, finally reaching the group. His voice seemed deeper, and in the depth were secrets, deep and narrow and twisting, and I shuddered along with everyone else.

"So that Thresh man spoke true," Finnick said. "You're what once Hades was. As he is Zeus."

"If you want to think of it that way, but every person – I've learned – takes power differently. A power changes to fit into a person, not the other way around. If it is the other way around it's unstable and can eventually break the holder." I thought of Annie as he said that I wondered if Finnick suspected.

Speaking of which… "Where is Annie?" I asked.

"She left when Peeta and that Thresh did. She did not tell me where she was going. What is she?"

"Poseidon," Prim piped up, surprising both Peeta and I. She smiled, bashful. "I hear you talking at night," she admitted. "I'm sorry, but the ship rocking… I don't sleep. I didn't mean harm."

Peeta dismissed her apology, and looked to Finnick who seemed unsurprised. "What does this mean for our trip? Does this change anything? Or has this always been there, on the side?" he asked.

Everyone else waited for Peeta's answer, wanting to put the mess behind them.

"Nothing has changed." Then he smiled, and his eye caught mine and I felt something in my stomach spark and I knew something in him had changed – something huge, but he would not say what and I could not decide what on my own. Peeta continued to add: "Only that I have a son, and tomorrow, when the sun rises we will spend our last day at sea and finally reach Panem as planned!"

A resounding, though slightly less enthusiastic, cheer rose at his claim. All of Peeta's advisors managed smiles, and then Prim handed me my son and I cared no more for what anyone else around me did.


Back in the cabin Prim and I sat across from each other, holding our children.

Lavinia moved around us, gathering her things – she'd requested to never see me again and I told her to go, because I could not bear the guilt I felt every time I saw her, knowing I allowed her lover to die. Her eyes were hard, hateful, and I could not blame her for any particle of that hardness and hatred. (Joanna, I think, was with Finnick, and I thanked every god there was that he had not been killed as well; Joanna's or Annie's grief were two things I would not have been able to face). When she departed I stood and gave Lavinia my most sincere apologize and she still left without a word.

I sat again, and I told Prim everything I knew about how I came to be alive again.

When that was done, and my son began crying, she said, "He's hungry."

I knew she had been nursing expertly for days, so I tried to look like I knew what I was doing and concentrated on my baby, shrugging out of a sleeve of my robe, and lifting his dear face to the nipple of my breast. He grabbed hold of it, his mouth strong, and I gasped at the feel; not wholly unpleasant.

He suckled, then again, hard and demanding, and then he let go my breast and wailed.

I tried again, pushing the nipple into his mouth.

Again he suckled, and then once more let go, and wailed his disappointment.

I frowned. "Am I doing it wrong?" I felt uncomfortable looking to Prim for aid.

Prim looked as confused, and then said, "Here, let me try." She leaned down and took him, lifted aside the bodice of her robe and offered him her breast. He suckled, and was instantly contented.

She must have seen my face fall. "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything," she tried to reassure.

"I have no milk," I replied, drawing a deep breath as all the happiness of my son's birth vanished, and I was left a disappointed husk, a failed mother, and a woman who trailed death behind her at every turn.

Hades' daughter, hadn't Glimmer once called me?

Hades' wife, more like. And fatal, indeed.


Very much later, well after dawn, Peeta came to see me.

I had my son back from Prim after she had fed both him and Aurora, and I was trying not to let the smell of milk on his breath (that was not the smell of my milk) send a sense of loss through me.

I raised my head before I heard Peeta step in the door. Somehow I knew he was coming.

"You're still awake," he said, surprised.

"Yes." I turned my face to stone and ran a hand through our son's curls.

"What's the matter?" Peeta stepped into the room. He paused to peer at Prim and disconcert if she is truly asleep, and nodded, satisfied, when he saw she was. "Where's Lavinia?" Peeta asked.

"She has gone, perhaps to mourn her husband and to never see me again..." my voice trembled as I said that last, and Peeta walked over to the bed. He stood a long moment, studying me and his son, then pulled up a stool and sat, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between his legs.

His face was haggard.

"I don't want to tell you this was your fault as Glimmer has told you, but I think we all share an equal part in what happened on that beach. Do not beat yourself up on this, alright?" he said.

I nodded, curtly.

Peeta reached out a hand, and touched the baby's face. "It has been a hard night," he said.

"I'm not tired, though, or hurting at all…" I said. "I feel better than I have in a long time."

"Aye." Peeta smiled up at me. "I do too." He paused, and his hand strayed from his son's face to mine. He lifted my chin so he could the better look me in the face, then he dropped his hand away from me.

As if he had lost himself for a moment.

"What do we name him?" He gestured to the baby.

"You'll let me name him?"

"Of course."

"Achates," I decided, finally, letting the word fall from my tongue.

"It is a good name," Peeta allowed. "Sleep, now." He stood and turned.

I almost asked him to stay, but I merely tightened my arms around Achates, and let him go.