Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.
Spectator
By Fanfic Allergy
oOo
Chapter Thirty Six
After Snow's reception, things go back to normal. Or at least as normal as they can be while still being held prisoner in the Capitol and being forced to prepare for a wedding that less than a month ago wasn't even a possibility.
The day after the reception, Peeta drags Haymitch and Effie up to the roof to discuss the idea he proposed where he and I live apart in when we get back to Twelve. It goes over about as well as I expected.
"You can't do that," Haymitch says bluntly.
"Why not?" Peeta asks. "It's not like anyone from the Capitol will be there to monitor us. All we have to do is play lovers for the Victory Tour and then once that's over the Capitol will forget about all of that and move on to the next shiny thing that captures their attention."
Effie snorts inelegantly and shakes her head. "You silly boy. Of course the Capitol shan't forget. The Capitol never forgets, even if it seems to ignore. Why, they still talk about the horrible scandal that your mentor caused almost twenty-five years ago with his unorthodox win."
"Hey, I used the weapons they gave me," Haymitch says with a shrug. "It ain't my fault they gave me a forcefield to play with."
Effie smiles at him. "You're incorrigible, but my point still stands. Snow hasn't forgotten and neither has the Capitol."
Taking a swig from his ever present flask, the man adds, "What's more, your houses will be bugged."
"What?" Peeta and I both exclaim.
"Get used to it," Haymitch tells us. "Any privacy you thought you had ended the moment Prim volunteered at the Reaping," he says to me, then turns to Peeta. "And now that you've won, they're going to be scrutinizing everything you do from now on and I do mean everything."
"That's disgusting," Peeta says, making a face.
"Not disagreeing, kid, but there ain't nothing short of overthrowin' the government that you can do about it."
Peeta narrows his eyes at Haymitch as if trying to figure out the man's motives before saying, "Snow will never let that happen."
"That's right, he won't. So you'd best get used to the new status quo and make the best of it," Effie slips in. "Now, I'm sure there are other things we must be doing and I seem to recall that you, Katniss, have another fitting with Cinna today. So come along, we mustn't be late!" The escort minces to the rooftop door and holds it open for me, beckoning at me with one lace-gloved hand.
"Go on, sweetheart, Peeta and me'll have a nice chat and I'll get him straightened out for you."
I am not comforted by Haymitch's words but Effie is right, I do have a fitting. With my ever expanding belly, Cinna's been having fittings every day to try to make sure the elaborate dress he's creating fits perfectly.
Shooting one more nervous glance toward Haymitch and Peeta, I let Effie spirit me away.
oOo
A few days later, the fittings stop. I find out why while watching television in the waiting room of yet another doctor's office.
Peeta, Effie and I are seated in the beautiful, but highly uncomfortable chairs watching some news show. I'm trying to ignore the curious looks being directed at Peeta and myself by the other patients. Peeta squeezes the hand he's holding and looks over at me. After my first appointment after the recap, Peeta asked if he could accompany me. I didn't want him to, the visits are embarrassing and somewhat degrading. But I remembered Haymitch's warnings about being scrutinized so I relented. It might strike people as odd if the supposed father of my baby wasn't involved in my pre-natal care. I smile half-heartedly at him and turn back to the television.
There's some kind of news program on. I don't really care about which celebrity was seen with which other celebrity or that the people making 'Dusk,' the new 'Twilight' reboot have announced that they've cast Don Lothario as Jared White, but my ears perk up when the pink haired woman says the following: "There's some bad news for those hoping to attend Klum Gunn Fashion Week next month. One of the factories in District Eight producing the textiles and fabrics for the collection has suffered an unfortunate accident when an underground gas main exploded beneath it, killing beloved fashion designer Santino Siriano, who was visiting to meet with the factory overseers in the blast. President Snow was quick to offer his condolences to Siriano's family and vowed to send experts to Eight to make sure another tragedy doesn't occur. Additionally, because of the accident, all work has been halted in the remaining factories until their safety is assured. The spokeswoman for Klum Gunn Fashion Week, Nina Kors, has announced that due to this halt, the weeklong event will be postponed until further notice." She pauses and consults a screen in her desk then continues, "In other news, the Minister of Energy, Kenneth Skilling, announced that due to an unprecedented plant malfunction in District Five, there will be rolling blackouts for residential zones between the hours of two and six am. District Five engineers are working to get the plant repaired and technicians from Districts Three and Six have been dispatched to aid in the restoration."
Next to me, I hear Effie murmur, "Oh dear, that's not good."
"What isn't good?" I ask, keeping my voice low so we won't be overheard.
She shakes her head, indicating that now isn't the time to talk.
I let it drop for now, trusting the escort's instincts on the subject.
We're called in to the exam room a few minutes later during a report on how Peacekeeper enlistment is at an all time high. Considering I know now that many Peacekeepers come from District Two, I'm sure that the word enlistment is simply a euphemism for conscription. I wonder what's going on and if this has to do with why my wedding to Peeta has been postponed.
The doctor's visit itself is thankfully noninvasive. The woman measures my belly and asks Effie a few questions and then we're done. Apparently my weight is improving and the baby seems to be growing nicely. It's a welcome change from my first visit. The only hiccup during the appointment comes when the doctor asks to have Peeta tested to make sure he doesn't have any genetic predispositions to some strange sounding disease. Peeta and I exchange worried glances because if they run that test or any test and compare it to the baby's genetics they're going to know he's not the father. It's one thing for Snow to know, it's another for all of Panem. Effie once again steps in and manages to deflect the situation back into safer territory. She points out that all tributes are tested both before and after they come out of the Games and that there's no need for any additional tests since the Gamemakers are very thorough. The doctor concedes and I let out a mental sigh of relief.
The car ride back is uncomfortable. Effie's turned on her Capitol persona full blast and is babbling at Peeta and me about this landmark or that one. I'm not sure why she's doing it, but I play along, feigning interest in the cafe where they shot some stupid movie.
When we're back in Twelve's apartments, Effie immediately drops the act and stalks over to where Haymitch is lounging, watching some show. "Where's Finnick?"
"With one of his clients," Haymitch answers. "What's got your panties in a twist, princess?"
"Have you even watched the news?"
"They got it blocked up here, you know that. It's all propos, Hunger Games, and fluff."
Effie seems to deflate. "I forgot."
"Ain't nothing. But what's up?"
"Is Primrose here?"
The man shakes his head. "No, she and her ma are off somewhere with that granddaughter of Snow's."
"Good, then we can talk outside." She drags him to the balcony and motions for Peeta and me to follow. When we get outside, she says, "There's been uprisings in Five and Eight and they're calling up more Peacekeepers to deal with it."
Beside me I hear Peeta gasp and I struggle not to do the same. Uprisings don't happen in Panem. At least not since the Dark Days.
"How do you know?" I ask.
"Those news reports," Effie answers. "A power plant malfunction large enough to cause blackouts in the Capitol? A gas main exploding in a district with no gas mains? Increased Peacekeeper enlistment? Someone at the Ministry of Propaganda has been working overtime and hasn't bothered to even put together a believable story. They might as well have said gangs on PCP caused the problems. It'd be closer to the truth."
"Oh," I say softly. "How is this going to affect the districts?"
"It ain't gonna be pretty, let me tell you. There'll be some serious hardship comin'." Haymitch regards us solemnly. "You two are gonna need to be real careful now. Snow's going to expect you to play your part and help calm down this rebellion." There's something in the way he says it that makes me think that he means almost the exact opposite.
"How does he expect us to do that?" Peeta asks.
"Distraction. Deflection. Whatever it takes."
"It's not going to work," I say, after thinking my way through it. "The districts aren't going to care about Peeta and me or my kid."
"That's not what Snow thinks and you know it. You just got to do your best to survive until something or someone else comes along."
"That sounds a lot like your advice to me and Prim before we went into the Games," Peeta observes.
Haymitch smirks. "It worked, didn't it? So don't knock it."
Effie steps in. "Haymitch and I will do our best to guide you, but you'll both need to think before you say or do anything."
I nod my head. "We'll do our best."
"That's all we can ask for." Effie straightens, slipping her Capitol Persona on once more. "Now, why don't we see about dinner? I am absolutely famished and want cheesecake with strawberries and chocolate."
oOo
Later that night, Finnick and Beetee join us. I'm surprised that Beetee is still in the Capitol, but apparently the Victor from Three lives in the Capitol about half of the year. His expertise with electronics and computers makes him highly in demand at various companies which hire him to build or upgrade their computer systems. It explains why he and Wiress were able to modify Gale's records so easily. They had built the system that housed them.
Beetee greets Peeta and Prim enthusiastically. "It's so lovely to meet you both finally."
"You're not mad at us?" Prim asks, shyly.
"Why ever would I be? It's not like you put the sword through their chest or snapped their neck," he says, referring to how Radi and Axel died. "That honor belongs to the boy from Two, and you, my dear girl, are decidedly not him."
"And what about me?" Peeta asks, looking at Finnick. "I killed your girl."
Finnick shrugs. "It was the Games, Peeta. Coral knew her chances going in."
"Volunteer, right?" Haymitch asks, looking up from where he's pouring drinks for everyone.
"Both of them were," Finnick answers.
"Unusual for Four," Haymitch observes, taking a sip of one of the drinks. He makes a face and pours something from another bottle into the glass until it's almost overflowing. "Must have been one hell of a Reaping."
"Well, it wasn't as dramatic as yours this year," Finnick says pointedly. "But it still was pretty emotional."
"Fair enough." Haymitch acknowledges the other mentor with his glass, spilling some of the contents in the process. "I'd say offer the families my condolences but that'd be a bit insensitive."
"Just a bit," Finnick agrees.
"Effie's always tellin' me to work on my manners. So I'll just say I'm sorry they had to die, but not sorry that my tributes lived. Does that work?"
"From you, I'd say that was the pinnacle of politeness." Finnick turns back to Peeta. "We're fine, Peeta. In fact, I'm glad you and Prim won. While I would have liked one of mine to come home, I'm not upset that you won or at the manner in which you got there. It isn't your or Coral's fault that you were put into that situation and it'd be kind of silly of me to hold it against you when I did the same thing to Haymitch's tribute in my Games." He tilts his head back over toward Haymitch. "Although I will say that boy was annoying as all hell. It was bad enough getting all of those stupid gifts, your tribute making snarky commentary didn't help. Do they breed them up sarcastic where you come from?"
Haymitch just shrugs. "Don't know what to tell you, Finn, it must be somethin' in the water."
"That explains so much," Finnick murmurs. He holds out his hand to Peeta. "So are we good?"
Peeta clasps the proffered hand firmly. "We're good."
"Excellent! Now I hear that you three are very popular with the Capitol crowd, much like me and Beetee are. Effie suggested that the two of us mentor you post Games. Since your mentor is a despicable reprobate who will only corrupt the two of you beyond all recognition." It's obvious that he's repeating Effie's words almost verbatim.
Prim, Peeta and I all look at Effie, who's handing out the drinks Haymitch made. "It was only an idea," she says, giving one glass to Peeta and another to my mother. "I thought that since Haymitch isn't as well-liked by the Capitol that you should have a guide who is."
"Hey!" Haymitch protests.
"Now Haymitch, you know it's true," she soothes. "You never had the demand that Finnick or Beetee have and that is nothing to be upset over. You have many skills, but negotiating the pitfalls of Capitol Society isn't one of them. That's why you have me!"
"Not for much longer," he mutters into his glass.
Effie falters for a moment. "Well, no. But that makes it even more important that Primrose and Peeta as your new co-mentors step up into the role that I perform since I shan't be able to look out for you anymore."
Beetee clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. "We haven't much time. Shall we proceed?"
Those of us from District Twelve all look at each other in confusion. Then my mother asks, "How are we doing this?"
"Beetee will coach Prim, since other than Cecelia, he's got the most experience with what Prim is going to encounter in her life after the Games," Finnick answers. "I'll take Katniss and Peeta here."
"I'll stay with Prim," my mother decides.
"So will I," Effie says. "After all, Cecelia was my companion and I can coach Primrose on just what she is likely to encounter."
"I guess that leaves me with you two," Haymitch grunts, draining his glass. "I can hardly wait."
We figure out the arrangements and times. Beetee wants to get started right away, but my mother objects because of the time and Prim's health. I don't say anything but I agree with my mother. I don't want to deal with this right now and I lean against Peeta tiredly.
Finnick notices and smiles knowingly at me.
I scowl back. I'm exhausted. The gesture doesn't mean anything.
"We should postpone this until tomorrow. Not everyone is a night owl like you, Beetee."
"Well, yes, but I find that I can accomplish so much more when there are fewer distractions."
"Ain't no one gonna distract us right now. Snow's got bigger concerns at the moment," Haymitch says. "You can do this when the kids are able to listen. We'll meet here tomorrow at ten, that way everyone can get their beauty sleep." He's looking at Finnick when he says this.
Finnick flashes Haymitch a cheeky grin. "It'll take more than a good night's sleep to make you beautiful."
"Get out of here."
Finnick and Beetee get.
oOo
The following morning finds Peeta and me standing in the living room of Four's apartment. Haymitch begged off, claiming that his head was pounding too much to think straight. It might even be the truth.
Finnick has a bunch of snacks laid out, including the fish shaped bread with seaweed and salt on it that is so indicative of Four and little rice balls wrapped in seaweed with some kind of fish inside. He pours tea for all three of us before plopping down on the floor next to the coffee table, his knee drawn up with his arm resting on it.
"Take a seat," Finnick says from the floor. "We've got a lot to go over."
I sit down on the couch.
Finnick hands me a cup of tea. "Sugar cube?" he asks, holding a bowl of them out.
I shake my head. "No thanks." I don't like sweetened tea. It takes away from the flavor of the tea itself.
Finnick turns to Peeta next. "Come on. Sit."
Peeta eyes the couch then heads toward one of the chairs next to it.
"Not there." Finnick stops him. "Next to Katniss."
Peeta glances over at me for permission and I nod, patting the seat next to me.
When he's settled, Finnick hands him a cup of tea. "Better. You two need to start acting like lovers, not two scared kids."
"Even if we are?" I ask wryly.
"Especially if you are," he says, crunching into a sugar cube. "The Capitol will find ways to use that against you. The ones who make it here are the ones who are confident and who know how to play the game. The ones who don't get chewed up and eaten until there's nothing left."
"What do we need to do?" Peeta asks.
Finnick grabs one of the fish shaped pieces of bread and starts picking the salt off of it. "First off, come to terms with the fact that you are getting married and everything that entails."
"Including..." I trail off, not able to voice the word.
Finnick can though. "Yes. Including sex. The Capitol is going to expect it and may even require proof."
Peeta frowns. "What do you mean, proof?"
"They could make you have sex in front of witnesses or videotape it or any number of ways. They want the Star-Crossed Lovers of District Twelve and that's exactly what you're going to give them."
"How?"
"By being so adorably in love that you'll cause Caesar Flickerman to go into sugar shock. By being inseparable. By confirming that by saving Peeta in the Arena that the story that they fell in love with is real and ongoing."
"But it isn't."
"The Capitol doesn't know that."
"Snow does."
"Snow isn't the Capitol. He might be in power now, but it's hard to stay balanced on a pedestal without support." Finnick's words are enigmatic and I find myself frowning at him. He knows something but he can't say it. He's already taking a risk in telling us this much.
"So what can we do to stay in the Capitol's good graces?" I ask, leading us back to our original subject. I'd stayed quiet up until now but we were getting nowhere.
"Have you decided on your talent yet, Peeta?"
Peeta blinks at the non sequitur. "What's that got to do with anything?" I'm with Peeta there. What does Peeta's talent have to do with us convincing the Capitol that we're in love? I know that Hunger Games Victors are encouraged to develop a talent after the Games. Last year's winner, Lupus Maxim, chose dance as his talent. It didn't turn out well.
"Just humor me." Finnick snags another sugar cube from the bowl and pops it into his mouth with a smirk.
Peeta shrugs and looks around the room. "Painting, I guess."
Finnick chuckles. "I figured you'd say that, and in any other instance that'd be a great talent. But unless you want to make Katniss your muse and model, it's a solitary talent."
I frown. I don't want to be Peeta's model. I'm still not comfortable with the fact that Effie brought along the sketches Peeta did of me for the interviews. I'm not sure I could tolerate more.
"I don't think Katniss would like that," Peeta says, glancing over at me shyly. "She's never been one to sit still."
"I don't disagree with you. Katniss definitely strikes me as an action kind of girl. Still, if you could find something for the two of you to do together, it'd help."
"But I don't have any talents," I protest.
"Sure you do!" Peeta disagrees. "You're smart and you're a great hunter, an amazing hunter, and... and your voice can make the birds stop and listen."
I blush at Peeta's words. He's so passionate, so admiring, it's a little hard to take. I'm not used to praise like that and I'm not quite sure what to do with it. "Yeah, but none of those will help us any. It's not like you can paint my songs."
"Why not?" Finnick asks.
I frown. "Because they're songs. They don't come with pictures."
"That's why Peeta will need to come up with them. You can sing your songs and Peeta can illustrate them." Something inside me twists. A lot of the songs I know were passed down to me from my father. I'm not sure I want to share them with the Capitol.
"That sounds odd," Peeta says.
"In the Capitol, they have books for children that are illustrated. Some of them are very popular, like 'The Little Tribute Who Could' or 'Six in One Blow.'" There's something about the way he says the names that makes me study his face. There's a hint of sadness in Finnick's eyes.
I'm not the only one who notices it. "The first one's about you, isn't it?" Peeta asks, his eyes intent.
Finnick nods. "And the other's about Beetee. There's a whole industry that surrounds the Games. Glamorizing them. Praising them. After every Games, a whole slew of books come out claiming to tell the real story of the person who won them. Some are aimed at kids while others are aimed at adults. They're all insanely popular."
"Insane is one way to put it," I mutter.
"I agree with you. But you can work with that. Capitalize on it. Bend it to your favor."
"I'm not sure songs are the best idea," I say, thinking Finnick's suggestion through. "Some of them could be taken the wrong way."
"Good point," Finnick concedes. "What about stories?"
Peeta turns to me. "Stories could work. I overheard you telling Prim some after your father died."
If anything, I'm even less inclined to share my stories with the Capitol. Most of them are about my father or they're stories my father told me when I was a little girl. I'm not sure if the Capitol deserves them and I say so.
Finnick makes a face. "To be perfectly honest, they don't. But do you have a better idea?"
Peeta and I look at each other and shake our heads. We don't.
"Think about it this way," Finnick offers, "you're writing and illustrating these stories for that little lady right there." He motions to my protruding stomach. "The Capitol gets to read the copies, but the originals will be for her."
It's a technicality. But it's one I can live with and if it keeps Peeta and Prim safe, I'll do it.
"Now what?" Peeta asks.
"Now I teach the two of you how to listen to what's being said and what's not being said so that you can learn the full story. There's a lot you can learn from interacting with people in the Capitol or even watching the news. It's all in understanding how to interpret it."
"How did you learn all this?" Peeta queries pointedly.
"Experience," Finnick says sadly. "Experience I hope you never have."
oOo
I'm awakened at dawn on July Fourth by Cinna and his prep team to start getting ready for the wedding. My wedding. Two words that somehow seem utterly surreal and wrong. The ceremony itself isn't until the early afternoon but for some reason it's going to take hours for me to get ready.
Back home in Twelve, an engaged couple just dresses in their finest clothes and goes to the Justice Building to sign the official paperwork and declare their living quarters. If they're lucky, they have a party afterwards before the toasting. If they aren't, they still have their toasting in the first fire they lay in their house together. The whole thing, including the party, takes less time than the preparation time for my Capitol wedding.
I'm carefully made up and my hair coiffed before being escorted to the waiting limousine. According to Effie, my and Peeta's wedding is going to take place in President Snow's rose garden. After the ceremony, there will be a small reception and then President Snow has so graciously offered to allow Peeta and me to use a suite in his mansion for our wedding night.
The last has me concerned and I think back to Finnick's words that the Capitol might require proof that we're in love and actually being intimate. I'm not sure how Peeta and I are going to get out of this one. I have until the end of the ceremony to figure it out.
When we arrive, I am shuffled off to a small room that overlooks the rose garden. Hundreds of white chairs line a flower petal strewn path with a large rose covered arch at the end. Behind the arch is a manufactured lake covered in water lilies with a fountain in the center. To one side, I can see a carefully maintained hedge maze and debate the merits of losing myself in it before going back to watching people arrive for my wedding. My mother and Prim are seated up front on the left side of the aisle while Haymitch and Finnick are on the right. Caesar Flickerman is greeting everyone effusively as the seats start to fill with brightly dressed Capitolites.
It's almost time.
Cinna and Venia ease me into my dress and then carefully make last minute alterations - a tuck here, a fold there. The dress is a confection of lace and silk in a pale ivory. The gown is long and flows over my belly gracefully. The gradient lace overlay is beautiful and made especially for me. Near the hem, the lace has an almost flame-like pattern and is dyed a pale orange and as it progresses up my body the flames morph into bird like shapes of grey and white - Mockingjays. Venia carefully weaves sprigs of flowers into my elaborately coiffed hair: baby's breath, lilies, and miniature roses. When she's done, Cinna carefully winds a thin peach colored ribbon around my neck and affixes Seneca Crane's fire opal broach to it.
The stylist steps back and regards me solemnly for several long minutes.
I fidget under his scrutiny, hating how I feel so fake. The dress is lovely, but it isn't me. None of this is me. I don't know how I'm going to make it through the next few hours, let alone a lifetime of marriage to Peeta.
"It'll be alright, Katniss," he says after few moments. "Just be yourself and you'll make it through."
"Stop reading my mind!" I snap irritably. "This isn't another interview with Caesar Flickerman! This is the rest of my life. I'm allowed to be nervous and scared."
He steps forward and enfolds me in a warm hug, ignoring Venia's noise of protest. Cinna motions the woman away. "You're right, you're allowed to be nervous," he murmurs next to my ear. "But I'm here to tell you that you're going to be just fine. That boy loves you. The real you. Not who the Capitol made you out to be. I think if you give him half a chance you might end up friends."
"I think the Capitol wants a bit more than just friends," I mumble into his chest.
Cinna smiles down at me and says in a low tone, "I think if you give it time and patience, it could happen. And it'd be real, not something made up for the cameras."
"I still wish..." I trail off.
"I know, Katniss. Just give him and yourself a chance."
A knock on the door signals the end of my reprieve. Venia scurries to answer it.
"Are you ready to meet your fate, Miss Everdeen?" President Snow asks, stepping into the room. I hear the faint strains of a string quartet playing a complicated canon signaling that the wedding is about to begin.
I nod my head, not trusting myself to speak without betraying myself.
Snow holds out his arm to me, and I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow just like Effie instructed me to. He smiles down at me. "Shall we go, my dear? Your groom awaits."
oOo
"Congratulations on your wedding, my dears, I wish you both nothing but joy."
It's the same trite and tired phrase Peeta and I have heard over and over again since we've been forced to stand in this reception line after the ceremony. This time it's uttered by a diminutive old woman with a huge yellow hat and bright blue hair. I have no idea who she is and at this point I don't care. All I want to do is get something to eat, go to the bathroom, and get out of here and not necessarily in that order.
A half hour later, we finally finish receiving well wishes from people we don't know and are directed inside to a banquet hall. After a quick stop to use the facilities, an avox leads Peeta and me to a table up front where we're seated between President Snow and Caesar Flickerman. My heart sinks. I can see my sister and mother are seated next to Snow and Haymitch and Effie are on the other side of Caesar.
Thankfully, we don't need to talk much. Apparently there is this weird Capitol custom where people bang their silverware on their glasses to encourage the newly wedded couple to kiss. I despise it.
Naturally, the first time this happens, I have a mouth full of food. I look around in confusion and spot Octavia making these strange gestures with her hands. I have no idea what they mean.
"I see that no one has informed you of our quaint custom, Mrs. Mellark," President Snow murmurs. "Your guests would like you and Mr. Mellark to share a kiss."
I choke down my food and turn to face Peeta with wide eyes. It's bad enough that we had to kiss at the end of the ceremony, having to sit through a whole meal while Capitolites call for more public displays of affection is going to be torturous. Still, it's what's expected, so it's best to get this over with.
Reaching forward with my left hand, I slide it up Peeta's cheek. He frowns at me in confusion.
I lean forward and whisper, "Just follow my lead."
I feel a miniscule nod under my hand.
Carefully, I position my arm to block the view of the people watching and move so that Peeta's and my lips are almost touching. Quickly I explain the custom to him.
He pulls back and flashes the crowd an embarrassed smile before turning back to me and saying, "I'm still not used to public displays of affection. You're going to have to bear with me."
"Same," I murmur in agreement. "I'm not comfortable with them myself."
"Think we can tell them that?" He nods his head toward the watching crowd.
I turn slightly in my seat and catch a glimpse of Snow's face out of the corner of my eye. He's enjoying our discomfort. Turning back to Peeta, I shake my head. "No."
"I promise you, Katniss..." I gently place a finger on his lips, stopping him before he can say anything Snow might overhear and take offense to.
Then, to cover what I'm doing, I give him a quick peck on the lips. "We can talk about it later. For now, let's try to enjoy the party."
Reluctantly, he nods, his eyes conveying just how unhappy he is.
I want to do something to make him less sad, but I'm not sure what, so I concentrate on my dinner.
I pick at my salad, which is like no other salad I've had with large chunks of stale bread mixed with tomatoes and cucumbers and seasoned with vinegar and oil. Back home, food like this would be something we made because we had nothing else. Here, it's a delicacy. The next course is rice wrapped seafood with some kind of spicy sauce on top. Kissing Peeta during this course is not pleasant and I hope to have something better tasting soon.
The next course buoys my spirits since it's a lighter version of the lamb stew with dried plums. The broth is clearer and the lamb is seared instead of stewed, but it's still delicious. Peeta gets some of the broth on his upper lip, so the next time I'm forced to kiss him I lick it off.
He pulls back and eyes me with something like hope in his eyes at the gesture. Not wanting to shatter his hope, I just smile back. We're married now. We need to try to make this work.
The main course receives several cheers from the crowd. Avoxes with skewers of meat flood the reception hall. There are different cuts of beef, chicken, pork and lamb, all cooked to varying temperatures and flavored with different seasonings. I want to try them all. At the same time, other avoxes bring out various side dishes: green beans in a red wine and onion sauce; some kind of grain seasoned with toasted pine nuts and garlic; asparagus smothered in a rich cream sauce; and buttery roasted potatoes sprinkled with pepper, salt, rosemary and thyme.
I forgive whoever planned the menu for the first two courses when I bite into my first slice of leg of lamb. The richness of the meat roasted in a salt and herb crust is almost heavenly.
Of course someone in the crowd starts tapping on their glass again. I shoot a glare in their general direction and the clanking stops.
Next to me, Peeta chuckles, "I wish we'd thought of that sooner."
"It's getting old and I'm hungry and all of these interruptions mean I can't enjoy my food." I'm almost embarrassed by how entitled, how Capitol, I sound. But the only good thing about the Capitol is the food and I want to enjoy it. I'm sick of having to perform in this charade and just want a few moments to savor what good there is here.
Snow seems to understand because he says, "The interruptions are getting a bit out of hand, I admit. I had hoped that my citizens would show more restraint but I had underestimated your appeal."
There's something in his words that causes me to pause, trying to figure out what he means. There's a hidden meaning here and I need to puzzle it out before I say something and make it worse.
Peeta has no such restraint. "Do you think you can ask everyone to hold off until Katniss finishes eating? I'm worried about what will happen later if she doesn't get enough food. I've heard stories about pregnant women who haven't been fed enough taking it out on their husbands, and I'd rather not find out first hand. We'd both be even more grateful than we already are, if you could."
Caesar picks up on our conversation. "I'm sure the people will be happy to comply with such a noble request. We wouldn't want to interfere with your wedding night, after all!"
The food in my mouth suddenly loses all flavor. The wedding night. I know Peeta and I had agreed at the Victor's reception that we wouldn't have sex until we're both ready, but the Capitol is unlikely to be so understanding.
Thankfully, neither Snow nor Caesar seems to notice my reaction and Caesar stands up to convey Peeta's request.
There's the requisite booing from a few quarters, but for the most part people seem to be willing to cut back on the clinking. I'm grateful. I know Peeta and I will have to do something later to make it up to them, but for now we can eat in peace.
Dessert is, of course, a cake. Elaborately decorated with twelve individual tiers, the cake is larger than I am. The bottom and widest tier is decorated to represent District Twelve with fanciful and false depictions of coal mining all over it. Each respective tier is a caricature of the district it is supposed to represent. It reminds me of the parade costumes. Frivolous. Shallow. And totally missing the point. On the very top, representing the Capitol, is an intricately carved miniature representation of President Snow's mansion.
The symbolism is clear.
Because it's expected, Peeta and I get up and make a show of exclaiming over this decoration or that decoration. As we examine it, I notice that the craftsmanship isn't as good as Peeta's and I say so.
Peeta blushes. "I might have put a little extra effort into the ones in the window of the bakery because I knew you and Prim liked to come look at them."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It was something that made you happy. I wanted to make you happy." He looks away and mutters so softly I can barely make it out, "I still do."
Without thinking about it, I lean up and give him a quick peck on the cheek.
He turns and stares at me, trying to figure out if the gesture was for the cameras or not.
I smile at him, my real smile, the one that reaches my eyes, to tell him that the kiss was real. The way his eyes fill with hope again almost takes my breath away. Peeta loves me. Still loves me. And it's a bit overwhelming. I look away.
An avox brings us an oversized knife to cut the cake with. We hack a small piece out of the bottom layer and feed each other the cake. It's dry and kind of tasteless. I'm guessing it is supposed to be some kind of citrus cake but it just tastes like nothing.
Peeta leans over and whispers in my ear, "They didn't use enough butter or eggs and they left it in the oven for too long. I'll make you a better one when we get home."
Home. Home with Peeta. We leave for Twelve tomorrow at noon. But none of us are going to be going back to our original homes. Prim and my mother will be living in one house in the Victor's Village while Peeta and I will be in another. Peeta and I both agree that his parents and brothers will stay in town in their home above the bakery. I may be forced to live with Peeta, but I'm not about to be forced to live with his mother. Effie told me that they've already made arrangements to have movers meet us at the train station. I'm never going to go back to the place I've always thought of as home again.
Peeta notices my expression and tries to cover it by putting his arm around me. I want to shrug away his help, but I know it would be noticed and commented on. Instead, I lead Peeta away from the cake and out toward the dance floor.
According to Effie, Peeta and I are supposed to dance the first song together. Then each of us is supposed to partner with various people until Snow gives us permission to leave. Apparently several people have paid for the pleasure of assuring a dance with one or the other of us. It's not quite prostitution, but it still leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
The crowd applauds when the popular singer Gabriel Peters steps up to the microphone and announces that he's there to perform the first song for Peeta's and my first dance. The song is slow and about how Peeta and I found each other in our lover's eyes. It's just another piece of the same pointless drivel the Capitol is known for.
After the song finishes, another singer, David Stardust, is called up to the applause of the crowd. He's got crazily spiked hair and pointed ears and he wears an outfit that is skintight and accentuates his crotch. The crowd loves him. I find him a creepy, if decent, singer.
For the next couple of hours, Peeta and I are passed from one eager partner to another. I'm tired and I need to use the bathroom again about halfway through but there's no reprieve in sight. For the most part, the majority of the people I'm dancing with are kind and just eager to have a moment of my time, even if I'm treading on their feet. A few of them aren't, however, and I take perverse pleasure in grinding their toes into the floor, even as I apologize sweetly for doing so. I receive word that we only have to endure five more dances before we can make our escape. It can't be soon enough.
After we finish our required number of dances, Cinna spirits me away to remove most of my makeup and allow me a moment to breathe. I see Portia doing the same for Peeta on the other side of the room.
We reconvene and Peeta and I dance together for our final song, this one about the world falling down. The dance is nothing like the kinds of dances we have at home. The motions and rhythms are different and I keep stepping on Peeta's toes. It's embarrassing.
Peeta tells me he finds it endearing.
I frown, but don't argue.
An avox comes to fetch Peeta and me after the last dance. We're led to the head table where the crowd, already mostly drunk, shouts out a series of well wishes at us.
Of course, the last well wisher is President Snow. The man holds up one hand and intones, "As President of Panem, I wish Mr. and Mrs. Peeta Mellark a long and fruitful union, and may they always remember the path that brought them to this happy moment."
I feel Peeta stiffen beside me, but he doesn't say anything. No, Peeta and I won't forget just who made all of this happen. Peeta's no longer a tribute and I'm no longer a spectator. We're equal participants in this next, more dangerous, game.
I take Peeta's hand and hold it tightly.
We're going to get through this. We have to.
Peeta and I both have our parts to play and the show is only just beginning.
oOo
AN:
Written: 11/4/14
Revised: 11/8/14
Revised 2: 11/9/14
Beta Read by RoseFyre
OMG! OMG! OMG! Spectator's finished y'all! You don't know how excited I am to be able to say that.
I am super grateful to everyone who's followed me on this journey. I started Spectator almost exactly two years ago and I'd never thought it'd get the response it did. You overwhelm me, all!
Thank you to the people who reviewed Chapter 35: ForFutureReference, jj, Punzie the Platypus, Everlark Lover, Those Who Can't Write Read, RoxasGuyXIII, RoseFyre, catnip851, guest, guest, and OhSnapItsAli.
And to everyone who's reviewed, followed or favorited this story (There's too many of you to mention.)
I really need to give thanks to two people, without whom Spectator wouldn't be the story it is today. The first is my amazing friend and sounding board Peasant007. She's been encouraging me from the beginning to write this. The other is my Beta, RoseFyre. This story wouldn't be what it is without her fabulous, amazing, wonderful, fantastic, and all of the other effusive adjectives you can think of efforts. Without Rose, this story would be so much worse you don't even know. She's also been completely spoiled to where this thing is going so she knows if I contradict myself based on what I have written for future events.
I do plan on continuing in this universe. But there is no ETA for when. I am currently in the middle of NaNoWriMo and working on other things in real life. So you may want to follow me as an author. If you are interested in reading about my writing process or other meta thoughts on this and my other stories you can follow my tumblr. I'm FanficAllergy over there.
Please, please, please take a moment and leave a review. Thank you!