Hi. This one's a bit shorter than usual, but hopefully, you'll enjoy it anyway

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or its world. All rights go to Suzanne Collins, and I am not Suzanne. I just like playing around with her characters

Bedtime Backstory

"So tell me about yourself," Haymitch murmurs, petting his half-asleep wife.

"Really? At this time?" Effie mumbles, stretching. "Sweetest, I'm nearly out, can we talk tomorrow?"

"It's weird. I've known you since Johanna's Games, you've been my wife nearly a year now, and all I know about you is you were my escort, the best sex partner I've ever had, the best mom to the two kids we never got to have fun making, you were tortured for our freedom, and you're my extremely hot wife. I barely know anything about you. Don't you think it's weird?" he asks, playing with a curl of her soft, dark hair.

"I suppose," she sighs. "After all, I know you like a very well loved book... Did you just say that the best sex you ever had was with me?"

"That's what you got from that?" he chuckles. "Thought I was bad for only thinking with my junk, sweetheart."

"Well, I don't get many compliments on my performance in our bed, sweetest, I find it funny that you wanted to compliment me," she hums. "Okay, a few things. What are you interested in?"

"You," he says.

"You made that bit abundantly clear, my love," she huffs, irritation creeping into her sleepy tone. "Specify."

"I want to know what your life was like growing up. What you were into. What made you the little Princess I know now," he says, stroking her hair.

"Weird bedtime stories you want," she chuckles. "I wonder, if we ever did have a child, what their choices of bedtime story would be."

"Look, if you want to be secretive, be secretive," he says, annoyed. "Forgive me wanting to know my wife. Since, you know, stuck with you for life."

"Okay, okay. Fine," she says. "I was born to Clementine Trinket and Colard Trinket, and my mother was all set to abort me. She hated me right from the very beginning, and it wasn't until my sister made me do a test that I figured out why. Mother cheated on Father, and my biological father was Sextus Crane. I was nineteen and your escort then. The man I grew up knowing as my father made her keep me, and he loved me. He couldn't always be home to protect me, and neither could my brother. My sisters helped my mother beat me. My father still knows nothing to this day, and he loves my mother, telling him would wound him beyond measure, and I can't hurt him that way. I'm not her. I grew up in a small section of a house I rarely saw the outside of until I was seventeen and thrown from the house by my mother. I was freed that day, and only my bear came with me."

Haymitch glances at the old, patchy bear that still resides on his wife's pillow and asks "What did your dad do when he found out that your mother chucked you?"

"Oh, he raised hell and high water," Effie chuckles. "He apparently still hasn't forgiven my mother for that. He begged me to come home, and I didn't. He paid for my first home away, and he got me a modelling job. I made my own way with that, and when I came to you, two years later, I was rich, successful, famous, and a credit to my family name. My mother wanted to see me then, and so did my sisters, trying to get in with me to have their share of the fame and fortune."

"Tell me you didn't," Haymitch groans.

"As if! No, of course not. Do you think I'm an idiot, sweetest?" she giggles.

"You've been a lot of things in the past, Princess, and I'm pretty sure you were high on hairspray back then," he says, giving her a squeeze. "Go on."

"Well, I refused them all. My dad, brother, and sister in law, Abigail, I didn't refuse. I gave my father the money back for my first home, plus interest, I helped Abby pay for medical school, and gave my brother half of the startup for his law firm. My father gave the other half. I still talk to Gabe and Abby today. My father too, obviously. But never my mother or sisters, they don't get involved with the good things when they caused the bad," Effie tells him, drawing little hearts on his chest with her fingertip. "I am all for forgive and forget, but there's just too much bad history between them and me to share."

"Did you not have grandparents to intervene?" he asks, kissing her head.

"Yes, they did, once or twice. I didn't see a whole lot of them, and because of Mother's disloyalty to my dad, they didn't know I existed until I was fourteen. My paternal grandparents died when I was seven and never knew I was even there. My maternal grandparents defended me and fought for me until Mother banned them from the house. I know that Grandmother was a witch, according to Dad. He said that she was a known herbal healer, and she vibrated differently to the rest of us. She always knew I was there, she always demanded to meet the lonely presence, and she only got to when I was fourteen, by which time, I had this ugly whip mark along my face. Grandmother went crazy over that, I won't lie, and I dare say Mother was hexed for it. She always had accidents after she'd hurt me, a broken leg here, a cut and swollen lip there, the like," Effie whispers. "It only stopped after I was kicked out, and two weeks after my safety was assured, Grandmother died."

"Your grandma sounds like one hell of a woman," Haymitch says approvingly. "Guess now I know where you got that from."

"You're too lovely to me, you are," Effie yawns. "Mm. Anyway, you know the rest."

"So did you inherit your grandma's witchy traits?" Haymitch asks. "Do I need to worry about getting hexed when I bite you too hard?"

"No, I'm unremarkable in most ways," she hums, snuggling down. "Apparently, I am quite remarkable at the horizontal tango, though, so I shall take my good qualities where they lie."

"You're not letting that go, are you?" Haymitch chuckles.

"Not in the slightest," Effie giggles. "Kindly let me sleep, my darling, I am a tired Princess."

"All right," he sighs. "I love you, little one."

She sucks in a quiet breath at the rare declaration of love. "I love you too, handsome," she whispers back, closing her eyes and sighing softly. "Goodnight."

"Night, Princess," he whispers, a sense of pride and protective love filling him for her. One day, he vows, he'll talk to her about his life, share it with her, just like she has for him.

There we go. I hope you enjoyed this, and as always, please let me know what you thought. I am open for constructive criticism, too. If you have any requests for prompts, I'm always available to hear them. Lots of love and light to you. Cat xxx