"Make of our hands one hand,
Make of our hearts one heart,
Make of our vows one last vow:
Only death will part us now...
Now it begins, now we start
One hand, one heart;
Even death won't part us now."
-"One Hand One Heart" from the musical West Side Story
District 13 was abuzz with wedding planning. It was such an exciting prospect for everyone- a blaze of color in their otherwise grey lives. To an extent, every citizen was involved, and it helped to make it special. For our part, Peeta and I were responsible for the clothing. Peeta loaned Finnick a suit, and they tailored it to fit. I loaned Annie a green dress I wore in 5. Everybody was gathering supplies, and in a matter of days the wedding was set.
the wedding is a smash hit. The three hundred lucky guests culled from 13 and the many refugees wear their everyday clothes, the decorations are made from autumn foliage, the music is provided by a choir of children accompanied by the lone fiddler who made it out of 12 with his instrument. So it's simple, frugal by the Capitol's standards. It doesn't matter because nothing can compete with the beauty of the couple. Who can look past the radiant faces of two people for whom this day was once a virtual impossibility? Dalton, the cattle guy from 10, conducts the ceremony, since it's similar to the one used in his district. But there are unique touches of District 4. A net woven from long grass that covers the couple during their vows, the touching of each other's lips with salt water, and the ancient wedding song, which likens marriage to a sea voyage.
No, I don't have to pretend to be happy for them.
After the kiss that seals the union, the cheers, and a toast with apple cider, the fiddler strikes up a tune that turns every head from 12. We may have been the smallest, poorest district in Panem, but we know how to dance. Nothing has been officially scheduled at this point, but Plutarch, who's calling the propo from the control room, must have his fingers crossed. Sure enough, Greasy Sae grabs Gale by the hand and pulls him into the center of the floor and faces off with him. People pour in to join them, forming two long lines. And the dancing begins.
Peeta and I take each other's hands and we dance together. For this occasion I have put on a looser fitting dress. The ones Cinna so carefully crafted that fit me like a glove are too tight on my ever-growing belly. Peeta puts his hands on my waist, occasionally letting them drift to my stomach. I'm certain that he's subconsciously trying to protect our baby, and I find it so sweet and endearing. I kiss him quickly, grinning like an idiot. Beside us, my Mother and Prim are spinning around, and I break from my dance with Peeta to dance with my little sister. Prim looks up at me with eyes that are bright. I can see the excitement on her face over my pregnancy, but I also see that she's become so grown up. It tears at my heart strings and I can't help but press her to me in a hug. I let her go, and she spins off to dance with someone else.
As Peeta reclaims his hold on me, I notice a face in the crowd that I haven't seen since the arena.
Johanna Mason.
I tap Peeta's shoulder and point to her. Holding hands, we approach her. I can see her struggle to find something to say, so I decide to say something first.
"Hey." It's so quiet part of me thinks she didn't hear me. A sarcastic smile plays on her lips.
"That's all you've got? After being tortured by the Capitol for your sake all you've got is 'Hey'?" I try not to let the comment find purchase inside me, but it does.
"I didn't know how to start. But I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me since the arena. I will never be able to repay that debt." My voice is strong and confident by the end of the small speech. Johanna gives me this unreadable look, as if she's trying to figure me out, but eventually she concedes and gives me a wan smile.
"It'll be worth it to watch Snow go down." I nod in agreement. Peeta mutters a response I can't quite understand, and then takes me back to the dance floor. I lean into him as we dance, laying my head on his shoulder.
It's later that night when the happiness I felt the entire day is lessened. Peeta and I have climbed into bed for the evening, when Peeta looks at me. Instantly I know something's amiss.
"What is it?" I ask. Peeta is silent for a brief period, choosing his words carefully no doubt. He says it slowly.
"I want to be a soldier." The words seem pulled out of him.
My mind is whirring as I try and process this new information.
"Why?" Is all I can come up with.
"Because, my beautiful wife is the Mockingjay, doing so much to further the cause of the rebels and up until now I've sat on the sidelines, just watching it all happen. I need to feel like I'm contributing something, and I have to do it for myself. This will be my last chance to do anything before the baby is born."
"And you want my blessing." It's a statement of fact, not a question as I would like it to be.
"I need your blessing, but if you say no I won't go."
I stop myself completely at that. Could I deny him this chance at self-fulfillment? I could, but it would be a selfish act. More uncertain than ever, I take his hand.
"Promise me you won't die." He gives me a classic Peeta smile, but somehow it looked wrong.
"I promise."
I can only pray that it isn't a lie.
