It's the Capitol Party!
PPOV
We are sucked into what becomes an indistinguishable round of dinners, ceremonies, and train rides. Each day it's more of the same. Wake up, get dressed, listen to a speech in our honor, give a thank-you speech in return. But now it's only what Effie gives us, never any personal additions.
Most of the time we get a brief tour of the district we're visiting. Towering forests in District 7, ugly textile factories in District 8, and my favorite, the ocean in District 4. Then we get dressed in our evening clothes and attend another dinner or ball, before hurrying back to the train to start it all again.
Katniss and I are solemn and respectful during the ceremonies, but always linked together by our hands or arms, drawing on each other's strength through our physical touches. During the dinners we play it up a little. We kiss, we dance, we get caught trying to sneak away to be alone. Back on the train, alone in the darkness of our room, we comfort each other in the best way we know how, caring less and less if we're heard through the thin walls of our train compartment as the Tour goes on.
Even without our personal speeches to trigger dissent, I can feel something in the air, like the rolling boil of a pot about to run over. It's not everywhere. Some crowds have the weary-cattle feel that I know District 12 usually projects during these ceremonies. But in other districts, like 8 and 4, there seems to be genuine elation underlined with fierce determination. When they chant our names it almost sounds like a cry for vengeance rather than a cheer. When the Peacekeepers press in, they press back instead of retreating. This has obviously been an undercurrent in these districts for a long time, and, just as obviously, there's nothing that Katniss and I could say or do to stop it.
Katniss pretty much stops eating about halfway through the Tour, and no amount of cajoling or extra cheese buns on the breakfast table can convince her to eat more. It gets to the point where Cinna has to start taking in her clothes. At night, we barely sleep as Katniss insists on making love multiple times per night, after each time the peace and tranquility only lasting a little while before she tugs on me again. The fear of falling asleep is palpable as the nightmares begin almost instantly for both of us, often with Katniss waking up screaming and me in a cold sweat.
Effie tries to ask us to be more discreet, which makes Katniss scoff. "Maybe President Snow will hear about it," she says, scowling.
The back-to-back appearances in Districts 2 and 1 are their own special kind of hell. The tribunes from District 2, Cato and Clove, were the last team standing besides Katniss and I and could have both made it home if we hadn't. And Katniss was credited with eliminating both of the District 1 tributes, as the boy, Marvel, was the one who killed Rue, and the girl, Glimmer, died from the tracker jackers.
By the time we reach the Capitol we are desperate and exhausted. There are seemingly endless appearances to adoring crowds, and it's obvious that here among the privileged there's no need to convince them of anything, and no danger of any uprising, but it still seems like too little, too late.
Effie and Haymitch finally escort us to our old quarters in the Training Center, informing us that there is an interview with Caesar Flickerman scheduled for tonight, followed by the 'party-of-the-year' at President Snow's mansion. Katniss and I excuse ourselves quickly and head to our room, which was her room when we were here last, before quickly realizing at the same time that we probably can't speak freely in here.
"C'mon," I say, taking her hand. "Let's order some food and go somewhere for a bit."
The roof, with its tinkling wind chimes and lack of obvious cameras is a much better place to be right now, and I can see Katniss visibly relax as we arrive. I spread out a blanket and sit down, pulling her down to sit between my legs. She leans her head against my chest and we sit in silence for a while, just enjoying the moment where we don't have to put on a show for an audience.
I hear Katniss sigh. "What are we going to do, Peeta?" she asks me. I don't respond right away, since I don't really have a good answer for her.
"I don't know," I say finally.
Katniss thinks for a minute, playing with my fingers. "We could get married," she says.
"Katniss, we already are," I remind her, grabbing her left hand and kissing the wedding ring on her finger.
She chuckles a little and turns to face me. "I know that," she says, her eyes twinkling. "But the Capitol doesn't know it yet. Haymitch said we'd have to have their big Capitol wedding, maybe it would help if we did it now? You could propose to me tonight at the interview."
I exhale heavily. The proposal I already did was perfect for us, and the wedding we already had was perfect for us. But since I don't have any other suggestions right now, I reluctantly agree. "All right. But I feel pretty stupid proposing to my own wife."
Katniss giggles, and it is such a beautiful and rare sound that I can't help but pull her closer to me so I can kiss her. "I'm so glad we came up here," I say between kisses. "This is the most relaxed I've been since we started this Tour." Katniss doesn't respond, she just brings her face closer again until our lips meet.
That night on the stage, Caesar Flickerman, in his twinkling midnight blue suit, his hair and lips still dyed a powder blue, flawlessly guides us through the interview. When he asks about our future plans, I drop to one knee in front of Katniss, and in a grandiose style that makes the audience gasp, I ask for her hand in marriage. It feels absolutely ridiculous to be proposing to my own wife, in front of thousands of people, but effect it produces is the desired one, as Caesar is beside himself and the Capitol audience is hysterical in their happiness.
The party that follows at President Snow's mansion has no equal. Katniss is absolutely stunning in a sapphire blue sleeveless dress with silver accents and matching shoes, her hair styled in loose curls around her face and cascading in waves down her back. I don't look too bad myself in a matching sapphire blue suit with a silver handkerchief tucked into the jacket pocket, although the highly polished black shoes are a bit slippery, which requires me to have to walk very carefully as we walk down the steps into the ballroom. The forty-foot ceiling has been transformed into the night sky, the stars looking exactly like they do at home. There's a band set up in the corner of the room, the musicians looking like they're floating on fluffy white clouds. The room is filled with overstuffed sofas and chairs, designed to allow the partygoers to indulge in the amazing spread of food in the utmost comfort.
And the food. Everything you can possibly think of, and some that I probably couldn't, are spread over tables at least 30 feet long. Whole roasted cows and pigs still turning on spits, huge platters of fowl stuffed with fruits and nuts, countless cheeses, breads, vegetables, sweets, and waterfalls of wine and flaming steams of spirits.
Our afternoon on the roof has obviously helped Katniss's mood, because she turns to me with her eyes as big as saucers. "Peeta, I want to taste everything in the room!"
I smile. "You'd better pace yourself then," glancing back at the tables. I don't think that it's even going to be possible to try everything just in one evening. Katniss just grabs a plate and starts filling it. I don't bother, knowing that I'll get to try anything she doesn't finish, and I don't want to waste food. Throwing food away, what I see many people doing so casually here, is still abhorrent to both of us.
People constantly seek us out, and Katniss's mockingjay pin has apparently spawned a new fashion sensation, as several people come up to us to show us their new accessories. The bird has been sewn into silk lapels, made into earrings and rings and bracelets, and even tattooed onto tinted skin. I can only imagine what President Snow thinks of that.
Just as I'm thinking that there's no way I can eat another bite, we run into Katniss's prep team, who are obviously intoxicated and going on and on about how much fun they are having.
"You have to try one of these, they're divine! "Flavius says, pushing a plate full of tiny pastries towards me.
"I can't eat another thing," I say. Flavius laughs like I just told a really funny joke.
"No one lets that stop them!" Octavia chimes in, grabbing a small crystal glass with a pink liquid in it from a nearby table. "Drink this, and soon you'll be able to eat whatever else you want."
I eye the glass suspiciously. Surely they don't mean...
"It makes you sick," Octavia continues, like it should have been obvious. "So you can go on eating! How else would you be able to try everything?"
No. Just no. Very carefully, I hand the glass back to Flavius. "C'mon Katniss," I say, taking her hand. "I think it's time for a dance."
Effie had insisted that Katniss and I learn the "proper" way to dance after watching us at the Mayor's party back in District 12 after our Games, so I'm not able to hold her as closely as I want to, but at least the music is slow so we don't have to move that much. Which is good, because with the way my mind is swirling right now combined with these stupid shoes and my sore left hip, I'm afraid all I'd do is stomp all over Katniss's feet.
"You know, maybe we were wrong," I say quietly. Katniss looks up at me in alarm.
"About what?" she asks warily.
"About trying to subdue things in the districts. You know, you go along with it, thinking you can deal with it, and then...then they're just throwing it up so they can stuff more in. It's disgusting."
"Shh," Katniss says, putting her head on my shoulder. "Not here," she whispers. "Save it for home." And she's absolutely right. Here is not the place to be talking like that. I sigh and pull her closer to me, the heck with Effie. I want to hold my wife.
"Mr. Mellark?"
I turn quickly, almost looking for my father as I'm not used to being called Mr. Mellark, before I see two uniformed Peacekeepers walking towards us. I hear Katniss inhale sharply and I tighten my arm around her waist.
"Yes?" I reply, thankful that my voice doesn't squeak.
"President Snow would like to speak with you, upstairs in his office," the taller, more severe-looking Peacekeeper says.
"What for?" Katniss says, a little too forcefully, causing the Peacekeeper to frown.
"I don't know, miss," he replies. "I was only asked to escort Mr. Mellark upstairs."
"I'd like to come as well," Katniss insists, clinging tightly my hand as we follow the Peacekeepers out of the ballroom and down a dark hallway to an elevator.
The shorter Peacekeeper turns to Katniss. "The President only asked for Mr. Mellark, Miss Everdeen. I'm afraid you're going to have to stay here."
Katniss and I both gulp, and just then the elevator doors open and I feel the hand of the shorter Peacekeeper guiding me into the elevator.
"I'll stay right here and wait for you," Katniss says, kissing me quickly. I try to not look as scared as I feel as the doors close between us. There can't be any way that the president heard us talking just now, can there?
The doors open again into a brightly lit hallway which ends in a pair of dark-paneled doors. The tall Peacekeeper knocks on the door and a muffled "come in," is heard from behind the doors.
Snow's office has an absolutely breathtaking view of the surrounding mountains, visible even in the moonlight. I glance warily around the room, noting all of the roses placed in vases strategically around the room. The scent coming from them almost seems artificial it's so pungent.
President Snow stands up from his chair. "Ah Mr. Mellark, thank you for coming."
Like I had a choice? "Of course, sir," I say, trying to keep my voice even.
Snow walks over to a tumbler and pours himself a small glass of amber liquid. "Would you like some?" he asks. "It's the best scotch that District 2 has to offer."
"No, thank you," I reply, my back stiff. I can feel my right knee shaking a little.
Snow downs his entire glass of scotch before continuing. "So, are you and Miss Everdeen enjoying your Tour?" he asks, emphasizing the 'Miss Everdeen' just to spite me.
"It's been lovely," I say, keeping my eyes glued to his face.
He smiles, that snake-like smile of his that makes my blood feel like it's curdling. "Too bad the districts didn't enjoy it as much, eh?" he says to me, all of the pretense of being friendly completely gone.
I feel my heart start to thump. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice starting to rise despite my efforts to stay calm.
He takes a few steps closer to me. "What I mean, is that you failed. You and Miss Everdeen had only one task for this Tour, and you failed, Mr. Mellark. The districts have not been placated, there is still dissent and the threat of uprisings."
My mouth is dry and my heart is now pounding so hard I feel like I might pass out. "What do you want us to do then?" I ask, absolutely dreading the answer.
President Snow tilts his head, his perfectly manicured fingers running through the whiskers on his chin. "I haven't decided yet," he says manically. "A lot will depend on your behavior after you return to District 12."
"Our behavior?" I say, confused.
"Tell me, Mr. Mellark, have you met Mr. O'Dair yet? The famous District 4 Victor?" Snow asks.
I blink and nod my head. Katniss and I met Finnick O'Dair when we stopped in District 4. Bronze-haired, green-eyed Finnick was the one who led us around his district and took us to the beach for a few hours, talking pretty much non-stop. He reminded me a little of Rye from back in his player days, and the number of women I've seen hanging on his arms just tonight at the party seems to reinforce that view.
"Mr. O'Dair has a very, shall we say, useful purpose," Snow continues. "You may not know this, Mr. Mellark, but there are many Capitol citizens who consider it a great honor to spend some quality time with the Victors, especially those more attractive and desirable Victors."
My palms start to sweat. Oh no, he wouldn't.
"Miss Everdeen is quite lovely, don't you think?" he asks me, his hand running over his chin. "I'm sure there are a number of Capitol citizens who would love to spend some time with her."
No, I won't let you or anyone else ever touch my wife. I can feel the blood draining from my face and my stomach starts to swirl.
"Even yourself, with your, disability, would be considered a rather good catch," he continues. "In fact, there are even some people who have an attraction for that sort of thing."
I gulp and shake my head, trying to clear it. I don't care what could happen to me, but I have to protect Katniss. "Please don't hurt Katniss," I whisper, hating myself for having to resort to begging. "Please. We never meant for any of this to happen."
Snow stares at me without responding for a minute, running his hands over and over his chin. "I know you didn't," he finally says, a slight smile passing over his lips.
Then his eyes narrow dangerously. "And that's the only reason why I haven't done anything like that yet. But I'm warning you, Mr. Mellark, one more wrong move from either of you, and your pretty little wife will have to start making frequent trips back here to the Capitol to entertain my friends. And maybe, I'll even let you watch."
Horrible thoughts of being forced to watch while the President's slimy friends violate my Katniss immediately fill my head, and I can't hide the audible gasp that escapes my lungs. My stomach gives a violent lurch and I stumble backwards. Snow lets out a chuckle at my obvious distress and moves over to shake my hand.
"I'm glad we understand each other, Mr. Mellark. Now I think it's time for you to return to your party," he says, pushing a button on his desk. Almost instantly the double doors open and the same two Peacekeepers appear to escort me back downstairs.
"I need to use the restroom," I gasp out as soon as the doors are closed. The short Peacekeeper points me in the direction of a bathroom and I barely make it to the sink before I completely empty the contents of my stomach. I double over gasping, trying to take deep breaths but only managing to choke. I need to get Katniss and get out of here, but I don't want to scare her.
Finally, after I splash some water on my face and rinse my mouth out, I'm able to calm my breathing down a little. My eyes are still dilated, my face is pale, and my hair is a mess, so I run my wet hands through my hair to try and tame it. Katniss will know that something is wrong as soon as she sees me, but I can't help that. I just need to get her out of here as soon as possible.
Katniss is pacing in the hallway when the elevator doors open. She takes one look at me and grabs my hand, her other hand moving up to caress my cheek. "Peeta?" she asks, sounding scared. "What's wrong?"
I can't even answer her, so I just fling my arms around her and bury my face into her neck, breathing in her familiar scent. Katniss pulls away enough to look at my face again and wraps her arm around my waist. "Let's go find Effie and tell her we're leaving," she says firmly.
We walk back into the ballroom, flashbulbs going off in our faces. Katniss's arm stays locked around my waist as we search for Effie and Haymitch, finally finding them by the dessert table.
"Peeta doesn't feel well, Effie," Katniss tells her. "We'd like to leave now and get some sleep." Effie looks flustered for a minute and glances around the room, probably trying to make sure we've spoken with and had our pictures taken with all the important people. Haymitch is eyeing us suspiciously.
Apparently satisfied, Effie turns back to us, sighing. "All right then. There's a car downstairs waiting to take you both back to the Training Center."
"Thank you, Effie," I manage to wheeze out, still clinging to Katniss like I'm afraid she's going to be snatched away from me. Because unless something major happens, and soon, I'm going to be powerless to stop her from being ripped right out of my arms.
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