Thank you so much for your patience! It has been quite a busy summer! Unfortunately, it seems that it won't be slowing down much... If anything, life is about to get cray, so please hang with me. I created a new tumblr for my fics: newsongfanfics dot tumblr dot com, so please check there for updates or little excerpts from upcoming chapters and everlark goodies.
This chapter could have gone on for a million more years, but I decided to end it where I did because it felt like the most logical breaking point. There will be more in Ch 26 to wrap up the wedding festivities... and other glorious surprises to come.
As always, your reviews, comments, and PMs make my day, so PLEASE take a moment and tell me what you think. I am open to constructive criticism, encouragement, story suggestions, etc. and will take them all to heart as the story moves forward. If you love it, spread the word! Thanks again, my faithful friends.
Disclaimer: Hunger Games is Suzanne Collins' masterpiece, not mine.
I wipe my sweaty palms on the orange silk of my dress. I never dreamed I would be so nervous to marry Peeta. Well, honestly, I never dreamed I would be getting married. Regardless, it's just Peeta. My best friend. What's there to be scared of? Obviously, the cameras add an element of invasiveness, but I'm barely thinking of them. All I can think about is Peeta. His face when the door in front of me swings open and I walk down that aisle next to Annie as she goes to join Finnick. His sky-blue eyes that can see me in ways that I have never been able to see myself. His joyful smile that always settles my mind and makes my heart flutter. Just Peeta. My springtime dandelion in the sun, the man who saved my life in more ways than one. He has a way of seeing beauty in everything, even in someone as walled up and stubborn as me, and slowly, I am beginning to understand. Life is beautiful, a gift. Before him, I was so afraid to love, to live, but he taught me - along with a little help from Prim - that love is worth the risk. And he has been.
Annie turns to me and smiles shyly with a sparkle in her eyes, wordlessly telling me that we are in this together. A moment later, the door opens, and the music begins to play. This is really happening. Slowly, I begin moving forward, looking at the ground at first, gathering courage to meet Peeta's gaze. My heart is racing a million times a minute. Once I look up, this whole thing will become real, and it scares the hell out of me.
Breathe, Katniss, I tell myself. It's only Peeta.
From now on, it will be us. The Mellarks. Together. I take a deep breath, and with another step forward, I shift my eyes upward and search for those blue eyes. Almost instantly, I find them, and my breath catches in my throat. The love and adoration reflected in those eyes almost causes my legs to give out, but it is as if a magnetic force is keeping me standing tall and moving forward. Toward Peeta. Tears pool in the corner of my eyes, and I silently mouth 'I love you' as I continue forward. He returns the message, and I watch as a single tear runs down his left cheek.
With every step, I'm becoming more and more impatient. I want to hold his hands and tell him how much I love him and how happy I am to be his, but he only seems to get farther and farther away.
I speed up my steps and widen my strides but to no avail. Peeta still seemes to be the same distance from me. I look around me, and everyone else seems at ease, even Annie seems undisturbed. I don't undersand. Peeta must see the concern in my face because his expression changes to one of confusion. In that same moment, a deafening, consuming explosion of noise echos from somewhere above us, and the ground begins to shake severely. I stumble forward, barely maintaining my footing. The noise continues overhead, getting closer and louder every second.
"Peeta!" I yell. He is running toward me. Suddenly, huge chunks of the ceiling begin to crash to the ground, separating us.
"Peeta!" I scream in desparation. I cannot see him now. Darkness and dust cloud my vision along with something bright and orange in the distance, growing larger. Furiously, I attempt to fight my way through the rubble, heaving large pieces of it and tossing it to the side, until a gust of searing heat and light throws me backward as another explosion burst before my eyes. I have to get to Peeta. I rush foward once more, but the heat prevents me from gaining any ground. I can't reach him. I can't see him. I can't hear him. I fall to my knees, ready to succumb to the flames, to become one with the fire.
"PEETA!" I awaken screaming and thrashing, drenched in sweat. It takes me several moments to register the sweat-ridden, scratchy sheets and the stiffness of the mattress underneath me, but eventually, I come back to reality. I'm in our compartment in Thirteen. It was just a dream. I turn to seek comfort in Peeta's embrace only to find that I am very much alone.
Meow.
Well, mostly alone. Buttercup jumps up onto the cot and stares at me questioningly. I ignore him, trying to remember when Peeta left. He always tells me where he is going if he leaves early so that I don't worry. I slept peacefully in his arms all night, dreaming of toastings and kisses and being his wife, but sometime this morning, I remember the warmth of lips on my forhead, gentle whispers, and a sudden weight lifted from the bed. I guess he had somewhere to be; I just wish I could remember where he said he was going. After several minutes of unsuccessfully sifting through my recent memories, I give up with a dramatic sigh. No wonder my dreams took a turn for the worst. I never sleep well when he's gone.
"What are you looking at?" I bark at a staring Buttercup, who spitefully hisses at me and jumps down to wait at the door. I should get up and give Buttercup to Prim soon, before they leave for breakfast. Any longer in a confined space with this feline and surely one of us will resort to murder. I glance over at the clock, which displays the time: 07:32. Breakfast is at 08:00. I have plenty of time.
Grudgingly, I force myself out of bed. In five minutes, I am dressed for the morning and out the door with a furry, aggravated Buttercup in hand to surprise Prim. Jokingly, I scratch on the door of the compartment across the hall and call out, "Meoooooowwww..." I scratch on the door some more. "Primmmmmm. Irisssssssss. Let me innnnn."
"Katniss? What on earth are you doing?" I hear Prim call out as she comes toward the door.
I have to cover my mouth and swallow a giggle as I continue to scratch the door. "Ouch!" Buttercup squirms and claws at the sound of Prim's voice, resulting in a painful scratch down the length of my forearm. Prim opens the door, and her eyes dart immediately to the orange fur ball fighting furiously to be free of my grip.
"Oh, Katniss! How did you find him?!" she squeals excitedly as she takes the fighting feline from me.
"We brought him with us when we left Twelve, but he ran off when Thirteen's hovercraft came. But, yesterday, in the woods, he just popped out of nowhere. I guess he wandered the woods until he came upon civilization. Or maybe you and him are weirdly connected telepathically..." She laughs gently, holding him closely.
"I don't know about telepathy, but either he's really lucky or really smart. Thank you for bringing him to me," she says with a grateful smile.
"No problem, Little Duck! Haymitch said Thirteen shouldn't pester you about it, but you'll have to take her outside every so often. She can eat scraps from our hunting kills, and we can set up some snares for you to check in case I can't hunt for whatever reason..." I don't specify exactly what circumstances might prevent us from hunting. Any day now Peeta and I will probably be sent to fight, and we have yet to inform her or Iris. Right now isn't the time, though. Buttercup is doing a great job of stealing the attention and affections of my little sister.
As if the stupid cat intends to rub it in my face how much he loves Prim and despises me, he begins to pur contentedly in her arms, nuzzling his face against her as she pets and embraces him. Iris peeps over Prim's shoulder, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and as soon as she allows herself to focus on the scene before her, her eyes light up in realization. "Iris, this is Buttercup, our cat from back home," Prim explains.
"Hi, Buttercup," she says, tentatively petting him across his back. He continues to pur.
"I think he likes you, Iris," Prim says.
"Of course he does..." I scoff.
"Katniss, he has every right to not like you. How would you feel if someone constantly threatened to eat you?" Iris snickers at Prim's justification.
"Whatever. I only started to threaten him after he kept hissing and scratching me every time I so much as looked in his direction," I say, rolling my eyes. "Look at this!" I throw my forearm out as evidence of the cat's abuse. A long, thin red welt has taken residence on the soft underskin.
"Mhhmmmm... Sure, Katniss," she says, grinning mischievously, not even looking at the injury, as she plops Buttercup down on her cot. "So... You're getting married today, huh? It's really happening?"
"As far as I know... Unless, of course, Peeta finally comes to his senses and realizes that I'm a lot more trouble than it's worth..." I try to tease, but instead, my attempt at humor flattens out the mood instantly. I think Prim and I both know that there is still a small part of me that believes the lies behind those words. I know Peeta loves me ; I have yet to understand how I could ever deserve such a good man.
"Katniss... you know that will never happen," she says.
Feeling uncomfortable at the awkward turn of the conversation. I recommend we head to breakfast and begin this day of celebration right. They both agree, and we make our way through the winding, white halls of Thirteen to the dining area. Prim wonders where Peeta is, but I simply shrug and continue walking, not wanting my mind to return to the darkness it found itself in earlier this morning.
When we arrive at breakfast, Peeta is already sitting at a table with Finnick and Annie and Johanna. I grab my rations and plant myself in the seat next to him, immediately pulling him into my arms for a hug and a few short kisses.
"Woah, woah, woah! Hold up! Save it for tonight, lovebirds..." Johanna exclaims, almost choking on her orange juice.
I blush, but I ignore the comment. "Where did you go this morning? I woke up, and you were gone."
"I went for a walk is all. I hope I didn't worry you. I couldn't sleep. Big, big, big day today, you know," he explains, smiling, referring to Effie's trademark description, one which we've both heard so frequently that we will probably never be able to think of today without remembering it. I chuckle lightly and nuzzle my head onto his shoulder, and suddenly, I remember something.
"Oh! I almost forgot! Annie, Finnick, and Peeta: I am supposed to send you to Cinna as soon as possible. He has some wardrobe options for tonight, unless, of course, you want to be married in these dreadful things," I say, pinching the rough fabric of our gray uniforms. "I'm sure whatever plans Thirteen has for you this morning can wait." I glance down at my own arm to see the schedule that is planned out for us:
08:00 BREAKFAST
09:00 COMMAND
12:00 LUNCH
13:00 PROPO REHEARSAL
14:00 REFLECTION
16:00 PROPO PREP
17:00 PROPO FILMING
18:00 COMMUNITY FELLOWSHIP
20:00 CURFEW
They really have this all figured out, don't they? I think to myself. It's not even a wedding to them. It's another "propo," a way for Coin to remind us that she doesn't care about any of us nor weddings, hope, love, etc. All things that she tries to lead everyone to believe she supports. Instead, she cares about the rebellion, power, and what we can do for her and her precious district as the Mockingjays.
Peeta notices my arm and my disturbed expression; I'm sure his arm has the same unfeeling schedule inked upon it. "Hey," he whispers, lifting my arm to his lips for a soft kiss, "don't worry. All that matters is us. Forget the stupid propos."
I give him a faint smile, but all the while, an image of the unfeeling, cold woman with sleek, gray hair, the district's president, lingers in my mind's eye. Thoughts of her make my stomach churn. I'm not sure how much longer I can endure her snide messages and her ulterior motives.
We finish our breakfast in relative silence, with the excitement and the weight of the coming festivities and the filming of more "propos" resting on our shoulders. I'm pretty sure we all get the memo that, in District Thirteen's eyes, our unions are only a means to an end. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, remembering Peeta's words: all that matters is us. At least for today, I'm going to try my hardest to forget about Coin, the rebellion, and District 13. Peeta's right, none of that matters now.
"We should go see Cinna before Command," I suggest. Everyone except Johanna nods in agreement.
"Don't expect me to just agree and go hang out with Coin and Plutarch without you four. There's no way in hell..." Johanna clarifies.
Finnick chuckles lightly. "Come on Jo, lighten up. We aren't ditching you. You're a part of today. We'll all skip together."
"Yeah, and maybe Cinna has something for you, Iris, and Prim too," Peeta adds, directing his comment mostly to The younger girls. "You guys should come."
We drop off our dirty plates and head toward Cinna's studio, hoping to catch him before he leaves for the meeting we should be attending.
As soon as we arrive, we find Cinna locking up outside the door.
"Cinna! I'm so sorry we didn't come earlier! I almost forgot! I know we should be in Command, but today... It's different." I explain, hoping it's enough.
He winks. "Of course, I would love to help you all for your special day," he assures me, but his eyebrows raise in question when he notices the girls and Johanna.
"Oh, and they will be in the weddings as well," motioning toward them, "so we hoped maybe you had something...?"
"I'll see what I can do," he says with a smile, unlocking the door once more.
"Obviously, it's bad luck for the brides and grooms to see eachother before the ceremony, so you all will need to remain separate. How about we do the brides and the bridesmaids first and then the grooms after?"
"That sounds lovely. Thank you Cinna." I'm shocked to realize the voice belongs to Annie. She looks radiant. A true blushing bride for sure. I wonder if I look the same.
Cinna smiles. "Believe me, it's my absolute pleasure." He opens the door to let all the ladies inside. As soon as we enter, he locks the door. "Don't want to allow room for temptation," he teases. I know that both Peeta and Finnick will respect our privacy, but it makes me feel better knowing that our dresses will be a total surprise. I can't wait to see his face when he sees me in his favorite color.
"So, since Katniss has already chosen a dress, I think Annie should be next. The dresses on the rack over there are available for use. Pick one, and we can work on tailoring it to fit you."
Annie tentatively walks over to the colorful rack, and almost immediately she picks out a teal, blue-green dress with beautiful, swirling beadwork. I can't help but think how the color is perfect for a couple from District 4, the beadwork just like the ocean waves. I know that she has found her dress. She tries it on, just to make sure, and the final result - minus the tailoring, which will be necessary with her slender frame - earns a collective gasp of approval from the Everdeen sisters. Johanna just sports a knowing smile.
"Damn. Annie, you look hot. Cinna, I hope you are aren't too attached to that particular dress. It'll be torn off of her by the end of the night - maybe even before." Annie blushes beet red, but Johanna simply finishes with, "Just wait. You'll see..."
Prim is blushing as well. I can't help but laugh. Secretly, I hope my dress has a similar effect on Peeta. At the thought, I feel heat rise to my cheeks as well. Johanna notices and quirks an eyebrow and flashes another one of her wicked grins at me. After Cinna takes her measurements and marks the areas that need to be taken in, Johanna turns to me:
"What about you, Mockingjay? Which did you choose?" She prods.
I locate the newly tailored piece over near Cinna's sewing machine.
"Can I?" I ask, directing my question at Cinna.
"Sure," he replies.
I slip in to the cool silk, and Cinna helps me zip up the back. When I turn around to reveal the elegant sunset-orange gown, I am met by silence. No gasps, no smiles, just shock and silence. I'm not sure what to make of it.
Prim finally breaks the silence. "Katniss... It's beautiful..." she breathes. "It's... It's like fire."
"Really? I was going for more of a sunset... It's Peeta's favorite color." I reexamine the dress, considering Prim's comparison. I guess I could see the fire-thing. The silk is threaded with a shimmering golden thread so that, when I move, it catches the light, and that is probably what contributes to it's fire-like appearance, although I still think it's more like a sunset. To each his own, I guess.
"If she's not already on fire, she will be very soon..." I don't think Johanna ever passes up an opportunity to turn something innocent into something completely... not.
"It's lovely! Peeta will love it," Annie says softly.
"I'm glad you all like it," I say with a smile. "Now it's time for you ladies." I nod in the direction of our bridal party, partly hoping to get everyone's mind out of the Johanna-induced gutter.
Prim is beyond excited. I'm sure she is tired of gray jumpsuits, as am I.
"Go ahead Prim," Johanna encourages her, seeing the sparkle in her eyes.
"I don't have as many options in your size, but hopefully you will find something you can appreciate," Cinna says, motioning to the smaller dresses.
Prim pulls out each one and holds it up to consider. The last one, though, has obviously caught her attention. It's a pastel yellow dress that hits right around the knee. It's layered with silk and a sheer fabric of the same color. She looks like sunshine on a spring day, or a little blossoming primrose... or maybe even a dandelion in the sun.
"This one," she announces confidently.
"It's perfect, Little Duck," I confirm. Gosh, when did she get so grown up? Cinna fits it to her body, and the whole time, she doesn't stop beaming. I'm glad she doesn't have to worry about that wretched sling either, thanks to the medical technology of Thirteen. Like Peeta's leg, Prim's injured arm and chest were as good as new only a few days after she arrived. She had to attend physical therapy for a few days, though, to make sure she regained her full "range of motion." I'm glad the Capitol won't have any reason to feel empowered today. We can all brush the rebellion aside and live - for a day at least.
"Okay Iris. Your turn, and then Jo can go," I say, clearing my mind of thoughts about the Capitol. I will not let them touch me today.
Iris walks over to the dresses shyly, but it seems that she already knows what se wants, probably because Prim displayed all of the smaller pieces already. She selects the lavender dress that is similar in length to that of Prim's dress. Once she has it on, I notice it makes her gray eyes pop dramatically. We all smile and gush until Cinna pins it up and her garment is ready for his magic touch. Cinna will be a busy man today.
Finally, Johanna steps up. She puts on a mischievous smirk and walks over to the dresses very slowly. "Hmmm... What shall I choose...?" She's waving her hand from side to side across the garments, stopping every so often to casually pull out a dress. I have a feeling her overdramatic show means she knows exactly what she wants to wear. After several minutes pass, I roll my eyes impatiently.
"Jo... Choose already," I say, slightly annoyed with her display.
"Hey, this will be my first time in real clothes in several weeks. Give me a minute..." she explains, but a few moments later she lets out a long "Ooooooo..." as she pulls a relatively short red dress from the rack. It's definitely something Johanna would wear - especially with the plunging neckline.
Next thing we know, she's doing a sort of strip tease, slowly removing her current clothing in a seductive manner in order to eventually try on her selection.
"Johanna!" I exclaim, thinking of my innocent little sister and her friend beside me.
"What?! It's not like any of you all haven't seen me completely naked on television..."
She has a point. Johanna has a reputation for blatant nudity... on camera and off. I admire her in a way - not her ability to be nude any time she so desires, but her carelessness toward other people's opinion of her. For someone who spends so much time in the Capitol spotlight, she has a lot of nerve.
I pull myself out of my reverie and admonish her for her sensual antics, which, to my dismay, are currently still going full force. "Just put the dress on! The boys are probably getting impatient - not to mention we are supposed to be in Command," I explain.
"Who cares? This is a day of celebration! We should be getting drunk on a dance floor all afternoon rather than sitting in another stupid meeting in Command. Panem can wait a few more hours to gawk at their little Mockingjays and Victors."
I guess I should loosen up a bit. I'm getting married. What can they do? Coin is almost as enthused about this wedding - for all the wrong reasons, of course - as Plutarch, and that's saying something. They can't do anything about it if I choose to skip their stupid meetings. Anyways, I rarely pay attention when I do go.
"Still. Spare us the nudity," I say briskly.
She is still dress-less as she walks toward me, too close for my liking. "What's the matter Girl-on-Fire? Don't like a little nudity? That's not gonna make Peeta very happy..."
I scowl, maneuver myself away from her, pick up her dress, and shove it into her arms. "Hurry up."
She smirks at me again, and finally begins to get dressed. Annie is smiling, apparently amused. Prim is red-cheeked but also holding back a smile. I don't even want to think about what I look like. I guess, when Johanna is teasing other people, it's a lot easier to see the humor. I, however, don't find her latest performance very amusing at all.
Finally, she is clothes in her selected attire. Her dress is very... sassy. It suites her.
"Wow, Jo. It's perfect for you," Annie encourages.
"Definitely meant to be. Maybe, if you're lucky, you can find someone from Thirteen to appreciate that dress with you tonight..." I add, giving her a taste of her own medicine.
"Hmmm... Maybe so..." she says with a suggestive wink, as Cinna makes the necessary adjustments. Then, she rids herself of her newly tailored dress and puts on her gray jumpsuit once more.
"Alright ladies, send in the boys. I will have the dresses ready for your prepping hour later on today," Cinna explains as he stashes our selected pieces discretely in a closet.
With many thanks, we leave the studio to usher the boys in and wait for them to finish their fittings. As I leave, I catch Peeta's heated gaze, and immediately, warmth rushes to my face. He winks at me, and as he walks by, I watch his eyes roam up and down my body suggestively. This doesn't help at all. My face is on fire, and now, all I can think about is Johanna's remark about being on fire by the end of the night, which adds to the tension of the whole situation. I am the girl-on-fire. Oh, god, this is too much for me. If we weren't in front of all our friends, I would attack his lips right now.
All five of us decide to sit and wait up against the wall. Anxiously, I fidget relentlessly with my hands, attempting to remove my mind from onslaught of strange thoughts plaguing my mind from that momentary encounter with Peeta. For some reason, even when I was ready to give myself to him the other day, I didn't actually want to, but now, knowing the expectation of marriage - which, oddly enough, is another thing I've never really wanted to experience - I find myself drawn to Peeta physically more than I ever have before. God, those eyelashes...
"Katniss?" Prim questions, eyeing my squirming hands warily. "Are you okay?"
"Huh?" I still my restless hands and look up at Prim, only to realize that blood is suddenly rushing to my face again, revealing the direction of my anxious thoughts. "Uh - yeah... Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind..."
"Yeah, I'm sureyou do..." Johanna adds in a suggestive tone. I try to ignore her. As much as I appreciate the budding friendship between Johanna and me, I feel like, if Peeta doesn't come back out in a few minutes, I'm going to find a sharp object and throw it at her.
After several awkward minutes of waiting, Prim breaks the silence. "I just - I wanted to say... I'm happy for you, Katniss, and I'm proud of you. I know that not too long ago you refused to see yourself getting married or falling in love, but I'm glad that you decided to follow your heart. Even though, with the rebellion and all, circumstances are not ideal, I know that you and Peeta getting married is right," she pauses to turn toward Annie as well, and she places a comforting hand on both my hand and Annie's. "The same goes for Annie and Finnick. It just feels right." She smiles at both of us. I take her hand and give it a light squeeze, telling her thank you in my own way. My sister has such a beautiful heart; she is becoming such a wise young woman.
Not long after, the boys exit Cinna's workspace. Both Peeta and Finnick are beaming from ear to ear. As a result, I can't help the genuine smile that breaks forth on my own face. I stand up and rush to Peeta's side, taking his hand in mine and leaning in to give him a short, sweet kiss. Somehow, even in Thirteen, he manages to smell like fresh bread and something else warm and distinct that I can't put my finger on; he smells like Peeta. My whole body sighs into his side as we all walk toward Command. Cinna joins us and begins an animated conversation with Prim about fashion and sewing.
Once we arrive outside Command, Prim and Iris leave to head to school, and we all brace ourselves for what is sure to be an interesting meeting. Finnick and Annie enter first, followed by Cinna, me and Peeta, and finally Johanna. We all take our seats at the unusually empty table. A quick glance around tells me that we aren't the only ones who find it ridiculous that we are required to come to Command on our wedding day. Haymitch is sporting his most mischievous grin; Gale looks apologetic; and everyone else seems to have some form of those two expressions plastered on their faces. Well, besides Plutarch, that is; he looks on the verge of a breakdown.
"I'm glad you all found time to finally join us," Coin addresses us sternly. "Seeing as you all neglected to attend the first part of this meeting, we will have to fill you in with a brief recap of the morning's discussion. Plutarch, would you like the honors?"
Only the short version? What a shame! I think to myself. If only all Command meetings were summarized…
"Of course... Basically, in short, Beetee has successfully hacked into the Capitol's broadcasting system, and the first of the Victor propos will air instead of the presidential address, which is currently scheduled for 11:00. I would like to give a special thanks to Finnick and Johanna for their efforts in exposing the injustices of the President and his Games," Plutarch recognizes, as if he is congratulating them on their suffering. I glance at Finnick and Johanna, wondering what kind of information Victors would have against Snow. Finnick's previous elated demeanor has been replaced by pale skin and fidgeting fingers. Annie takes his hand in hers and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Johanna just looks annoyed, but something else in her expression tells me she is covering up her true feelings.
In the short time I have been around her, Johanna has proved herself not only an advocate of the casual defiance of the system but also an impenetrable wall. Her sexual innuendos, sarcasm, bitterness, and toughened personality are all a mask, carefully constructed to hide her true feelings. I know this only because, at times, I am guilty of acting the same way.
"Next order of business is our Mockingjays. We have already discussed your angle for the propos. We need you both to explain to the Capitol citizens what it is like to be children who are eligible for the Hunger Games year after year. Make them feel what you felt on Reaping Day. They need to understand the terror the Capitol has forced on the districts for 75 years." Terror that you helped feed, I think to myself bitterly at the ex-Gamemaker. "Additionally, we would like to take you both, along with Soldier Hawthorne, back to District 12 for a propo," Plutarch concludes.
My stomach drops.
"You want us to go back to Twelve?" Peeta asks incredulously.
"Yes, Mr. Mellark. That is what we want. Now, I know it will be difficult- "
"Difficult? It's a suicide mission!" Peeta exclaims, interrupting Plutarch's thoughtless attempt at sympathy.
"Actually, District 13 has succeeded in taking control of Twelve over this past week," Coin assures us. "I know it is hard to believe, but here in Thirteen, we pride ourselves in productivity…" She pauses, waiting for her statement to sink in – no doubt referring to our tardiness and the distraction of the weddings. "The Peacekeepers have been eliminated or imprisoned, and we are recruiting able-bodied men and women to join the rebellion. Surprisingly, for such a small district, there are many people who are willing to fight for the rebels. They simply needed motivation, and I'm sure seeing such a blatant display of rebellion from two of their very own youth finally pushed them over the edge."
"Exactly. So, that being said, we would like you to return to your homes and tell us about your daily lives under the oppression of the Capitol," Plutarch adds.
"Wait, why weren't we told about this sooner? Twelve is our home!" I exclaim, frustrated that we have been stuck underground for a whole week when we could've been back in our district. I shift my eyes to Gale, and the guilty expression he wears is enough for me to determine that he has been aware of Twelve's recent status. In that moment, I decide that I won't be talking to my old hunting partner any time soon.
"Well, it really wouldn't have mattered, Ms. Everdeen… You are a Mockingjay, and your duty – along with that of Mr. Mellark – remains here in District Thirteen. Besides, once a district is secured, it takes several days for things to stabilize. As of today, Twelve has been deemed safe enough for filming. Now you know," Coin clarifies with a wry smile.
I scowl mercilessly, crossing my arms and refusing to make eye contact with any of the traitors present in this room. "At what moment is our duty as the Mockingjays concidered fullfilled?"
"Your duties remain in tact until the war is over and Snow is dead." Coin replies icily. "Are you not grateful for the opportunity to serve the rebellion? Should we reconsider our agreement?" Her eyes are resolute, boring into mine, threatening me.
I refuse to look away. "No. It's just... we didn't really ask for any of this, did we? It was all shoved at us. One moment we were conviced we were going to die, and the next we become symbols of a revolution. It's a lot to take in. I assure you, there is no need to question our loyalty to the cause..."
Her face is stone. Impenetrable. She knows. She knows we don't trust her, and she does't like it. From the moment we arrived in Twelve, she has proven that her tactics align - in many ways - with those of President Snow. She uses people for her own cause. She seeks control and power for herself. I don't know what Panem will be like under her direction, but I do know that I don't like thinking about it. She hasn't stopped threatening and manipulating us since day one, and I'm afraid that she isn't the woman everyone is hoping she will be. Her eyes are too dead. Her demeanor, too cold.
She smiles stiffly, and it fails to reach her eyes. "Good. I'm glad we don't have to worry about our Mockingjays..." Her gaze leaves mine, and she addresses the rest of the room. "Now, let us take a look at the fruit of our recent labors."
Someone dims the lights and a white screen lowers from behind Coin. Suddenly, we are viewing the Capitol's live feed, the presidential address. Snow is reminding Panem about the Dark Days and the goodness of the Capitol, attempting to discredit the "violent and bloodthirsty rebels," especially the Mockingjays, who he blames for the revolution as a whole. That's rich. Blame a couple of seventeen-year-olds. I roll my eyes. As long as he can make people believe his "good" intentions for our nation and blame someone other than himself, he will lie and manipulate the public. The screen cuts off suddenly, and now Finnick, Annie, and Johanna are all sitting side-by-side. Johanna is speaking.
"What a lot of people don't realize about becoming a Victor is that, all of the fame and the money and the status we receive, it comes at a price. And, no, the price doesn't stop with killing innocent children in the Hunger Games. No, no... That is only the beginning. And that costs almost everything. Victors become the property of President Snow, to be used however he sees fit. If we refuse to be one of his pawns?" She pauses to laugh cynically, as if it was a ridiculous joke. "Well, then, we say goodbye to our mother, brothers, sisters, father, friends, anyone who is closely connected to us. That's what happened to me..."
The screen cuts out to Snow once again. "Obviously, the rebels are attempting to disrupt the Capitol's ability to communicate with the districts and are embelishing their stories to gain your sympathy, but I speak directly to the rebels when I say that justice will prevail."
Oh, yes. Justice will prevail. And it won't be your kind of justice, I telepathically respond to his arrogant comment.
Now, Finnick is on screen. He is strategically manuevering a rope between his two hands, tying intricate knots that only someone from District Four would know how to do. I've noticed that he seems to resort to this when he needs a distraction or when he is under a lot of stress. Annie is leaning up against his shoulder, allowing her left hand to rest reassuringly on Finnick's thigh. It seems like it is difficult for him to maintain eye contact with the camera, but he does manage to look up every so often with an expression of indifference.
"After I won at 14 years old, I barely had time to recover physically - let alone mentally - from the Games before was sold to the highest bidder. From that moment on, I became a prostitute for the Capitol, another means for Snow to gain money and resources for his own comfort and control." The on-screen Finnick as well as the off-screen Finnick seem to mirror each other. Both are fumbling with rope and as pale as ghosts. I understand the rope and the whole "sex god" act now. They were never things he chose. Instead, they were simply coping mechanisms, ways to survive and compartmentalize his life.
He begins to explain how he started to exchange his services for secrets rather than material goods. He reveals several things about Snow that are absolutely horrifying, yet I do not doubt that Snow did them. Poisoning. Blackmailing. Murdering. Bribing. Rigging the Reapings and the Hunger Games. And plenty more. Rage is pulsing through every inch of my body like an electric current with no where to go. Even the Victors... the ones he promised to leave alone, to give rest... they are the most used and abused. They would've been better off if they were shipped back to their districts in a million pieces. Instead, Snow rips their hearts out in front of all of Panem and convinces us that the choices they make are their own, when in reality, they are his.
I feel horrible. All this time, I have been judging Johanna and Finnick for things neither of them had any control over. Johanna's bitter and cynical front. Finnick's sensuality. Their camera-ready acts. It was all a show, and the director was Snow.
The screen cuts to the seal of Panem, complete with polite words: We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please allow time for these problems to be corrected. Thank you for your patience. I'm sure Snow couldn't figure out a way to oppose Finnick's revelation of his storehouse of secrets. Every Capitolite and district citizen is probably questioning the intentions of their president about now.
It's about time.
The lights come back up, and in my peripheral vision, I notice Peeta stand beside me. Then, I hear clapping. Soon, we are all standing and applauding the Victors. Thanking them for sharing their stories, for keeping the people of their districts safe, for continuing to fight, and for things we are unable to express, things that we could never imagine. Most of them smile and nod politely. Johanna crosses her arms, as if the recognition is the most overrated gesture of all time.
Not long after that, we are dismissed from Command and released for lunch hour. I find that I understand these Victors a little more now. I don't mind the teasing and the acting like I did before. I realize that these things have become a part of them; they help them to survive. And I know a lot about surviving. Even others around Thirteen seem less intimidated by the ever-mysterious Victors of the Hunger Games. Finnick and Annie and Johanna seem more at ease than ever; it's like a weight has been removed from their shoulders. About time, too. Now they are free to marry and love one another without the doubts and judgments of the public eye.
After lunch, we have to rehearse for the wedding. All of the instruction Plutarch gives us during this time is summed up in my head as: ignore the cameras (That'll be easy...), smile, and try not to embarass myself. Good. I can handle that, I think confidently, hopefully.
During reflection time, I bring Peeta, Iris, and Prim along with me to the woods. It takes some effort to convince the guard at the gate, but in the end, we are approved, as long as everyone wears a tracker. Today, I don't hunt; instead, we have a sort of family picnic (minus the food), where we chat as well as add to the Everdeen family plant book, all while lounging on a gray, standard Thirteen sheet. Peeta is really great at recreating the plants on paper, while I pencil in the characteristics and properties of the different herbs and flowers - some of which were taught to me by my parents, and others I discovered during my time in the woods outside Twelve. We decide that we will ask some of the citizens of Thirteen if they have any special types of native plants we should add to the collection; surely someone has ventured outside the boundaries of Thirteen enough to encounter the natural wildlife and plants of the area.
Iris and Prim enjoy their short time in the woods wandering around to admire the wildflowers. Soon, the leaves will begin turning and the flowers will go into hiding until next spring. For now, I am content watching them make memories surrounded by beauty, even though so much of the world we know is falling into ruin.
After an entire hour of prep, I am deemed fit for filming. My team, thankfully, went for a more natural look, with a light dusting of powder, a touch of blush, and a layer of tinted lip gloss. Cinna argued against excessive makeup, claiming that no one would recognize me. He has a legitimate point. Before this whole Mockingjay business began, I had never even laid a finger on any form of cosmetic product, so an all-natural Seam girl is who Panem is rooting for, not some Capitolized beauty queen. With each passing minute, my heart rate is excelerating.
I'm getting married. Today.
I'm getting married today.
Peeta is going to be my husband.
I am going to be his wife.
I hear the door open. "Ready, sweetheart?" Haymitch inquires with emotion-filled, Seam-gray eyes to match his Thirteen-gray, tailored suit (courtesy of Cinna). Over the past couple of days, I have found my mind wandering off, deep into memories of my mother and father. I'm sure they would be thrilled to celebrate with me on my wedding day, especially since I always claimed that such a day would never come for me. Prim reassured me that they will both be at the celebration in spirit, but my heart still aches when I think of the seats that will not be warmed with the heat of their bodies today. Yesterday, I asked Haymitch if he would walk with me down the aisle to give me away, and he agreed. Despite his frequently irritable state as a newly sober man, I have found that a soft spot has developed for him over the past several weeks. It was either Haymitch or Cinna - both of whom are also groomsmen... a challenging decision, but it would seem that Haymitch simply understands me. Maybe it's because of his Seam origins? I'm not sure, but he feels like the closest thing I have to a father figure. "You look gorgeous," he adds with a soft smile of admiration.
I blush. "Thanks. And yeah, I guess I am as ready as I will ever be..."
He walks over to me, links his arm through my elbow, and says, "You're gonna be great, sweetheart. Peeta loves you, and regardless of Thirteen's agenda, this day belongs to you, Peeta, Finnick, and Annie." I sigh at the reminder of the cameras, but his words do reassure me... somewhat... "Don't worry. You'll forget the cameras exist when you see Peeta." He winks knowingly and walks us forward, into the unknown.
The next several minutes fly by, and I don't remember how I even made it to the door of the conference room, the place where the ceremony and the reception will happen. Annie stands next to me, and I watch as Haymitch links his free arm through hers. At first, she starts with surprise, but her face softens into an expression of heartfelt gratitude. Her family - if she has any - is still in District Four, I'm sure. Maybe the cameras will be a good thing...? For her at least.
Music begins to echo behind the door, not the expertly romantic kind you'd typically hear at a wedding, but it's music all the same. Apparently, someone in this District managed to learn to play the guitar decently. I'm thankful. The doors open, and my eyes land on Peeta almost immediately and don't leave him. Tears fall from the corners of his eyes, and I'm surprised to find my own eyes stinging with tears that will surely come.
Hold it together Katniss, I command myself sternly. If I am already tearing up, this could be a problem. I hate crying.
When Annie and I both reach our significant other, Haymitch gives us happily to our men with a smile and a wink. Coin stands between us both, ready to facilitate the wedding vows. The music fades to a stop, and the ceremony begins. She first turns toward Annie and Finnick, instructing them on the contract of marriage, District 13's laws, and finally, the vows are spoken. The whole time, as if mesmerized by each other, Peeta and I do not allow our eyes to leave each other; instead, we silently send messages, sometimes with our eyes, sometimes speaking soundlessly so we can read each other's lips. Mostly, we just tell each other "I love you" over and over.
"Now, our Mockigjays," I startle slightly as I realize her cool voice and commanding words are now directed at us, "Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, in accordance with the laws of our District, do you both vow to live in peace with each other and give freely to the community in which you live?"
"We do," we both reply in unision, something we practiced during rehearsal.
"Will you both promise to unite together in resources and possessions in order to provide for each other and any other potential members of your family?"
"We do."
"Katniss Everdeen, do you voluntarily agree to take the name of Peeta Mellark, to submit to him as your husband from this day forth, to take responsibility for the decisions you both make as a unit, and to love and support him to the best of your abilities?"
"Yes. I agree," I respond, still captivated by Peeta's gaze. My stomach flutters when she mentions the part about taking his name. Mrs. Katniss Mellark. It has a nice ring to it. It fits.
"Peeta Mellark, do you voluntarily agree to give your name to Katniss Everdeen, to respect her as your wife from this day forth, to take responsibility for the decisions you both make as a unit, and to love and support her to the best of your abilities?"
"Yes. I agree," he replies firmly, promising that and more.
"Very well. I call upon those present here to be witnesses of the marriage vows exchanged between both Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. As they have agreed to the standards of a legal marriage according to the laws of District Thirteen, I, President Alma Coin, pronounce them as man and wife: Mr. and Mrs. Peeta Mellark."
Then, to the rhythm of lively applause, Peeta and I kiss - not for the cameras, not for anyone else but each other. It is quite a lengthy and passionate kiss for a public, televized wedding, but who cares? We are married.