Halfway down the path to the ash tree, Prim broke away from Katniss' side and threw herself at Rory.

When Katniss had gone to wake her, she had not told Prim why she was being dragged from the house in the middle of the night with warnings to not disturb any Trojans. Prim had assumed that it was about Darius and she was happy for it, but the instant she had seen Rory, pure joy contorted the features of her face.

As she was enveloped in his arms, she started to cry.

As the two had their reunion, Katniss examined the others with her face guarded. They were still on-edge and stoic. They watched her warily. She was glad she'd decided to leave Aurora behind; for a second, she'd considered taking Aurora to Rory, then she decided that if she did that, then Prim might never return to the house.

Katniss had left them with the torch. The elderly man held it now, and with the light hovering just beside him she could see that he was not actually Dorian. Greek, yes, but not Dorian.

"Rory?" Katniss asked, stepping close to the pair and forcing them to separate. "Where is Gale?"

Rory smiled at her now, unrestrained and trusting. "He is well. Not far from here."

"Where?"

"On a large beach to the north. Four or five days walk. Him and his army."

"Army?" Prim said. "Has he come to fight?"

"Fight, no," Rory said, turning to her with tender features. "Rescue, yes." He cupped her cheek and smiled. "We will take you now, and Katniss, too, and maybe there will be no fight."

"Peeta will notice I'm gone," Katniss said immediately.

Rory blinked at her, confused. "So?"

"I'm not leaving him."

"You have no desire to be rescued?"

"I have no need of rescue," Katniss clarified.

Rory looked to Prim, to Katniss, then to the men at his back. "I don't understand."

"We're not prisoners here, Rory. Things are not as they were in Niuva."

"Clearly," spoke the elder. He surveyed Katniss with mistrust. Earlier, what they saw, was not the type of woman Gale had described to them. No, the Katniss that they had found was somewhat more intimidating and willful than the Dorian general had implied, and much more dangerous.

Rory shook his head. "Katniss, are you fearful? Do you think Peeta will come after you? Gale has the means to protect you now. You need not be afraid to accept the freedom we offer. We can be miles away before sunrise."

"The only thing I fear is Gale being discovered," Katniss said, and her tone softened. "I fear that Gale might fight despite your claim of 'rescue'. Peeta will not lose a war, Rory. Tell Gale that."

"Tell him yourself," Rory insisted. "You cannot believe I'll leave here without you? He'll be angry."

"Let him be angry. Tell him I will not come. I chose not to. Tell him to go and be safe elsewhere."

Prim, who was watching their exchange, suddenly stirred and stepped back from Rory. Her face was sad. "She's right, Rory. I must stay, too. Things are... different. I am... different. I can't leave."

His eyes widened in disbelief as he looked between the sisters. "But..."

"I love you," Prim said. "But I can't go. Not now. Please understand."

"I don't," he said. "You... you were taken. These Trojans are brutes and rapists… and you wish to be with them, instead of us? Instead of your family?" Real anger sparked in his eyes and he stepped back from her. He glared at Katniss. "I can almost understand why you would. Who wouldn't want queenship? What woman would turn down a man such as Peeta, rape or not?" There was scorn in the words and they were more insult than real understanding. Katniss clenched her jaw at the blows. "But you," Rory said, turning to Prim again, looking betrayed. "You were so willing to help before, telling us how to get here, and now you wish us gone? Wish me gone? You do not have to be so loyal to her!" He flung a hand in Katniss' direction. "You have listened to her all your life! For once, do not!"

"I'm not doing this because Katniss told me –"

"Then why!"

Prim hesitated. Would she tell him of Hera's gift? She could not leave because she could not forget that new piece of her. She could not leave when she did not know where Darius was. She needed him.

The hesitation took too long. Rory backed farther away, shaking his head, joining the other men, and when Prim made to follow him, looking desperate, Katniss jumped forward and held her back.

"I have saved your lives," Katniss told them, her voice soft and her face expressionless. "This night. But I cannot continue to do that if you continue to come back here. If Gale wishes to talk with me himself, then you tell him where this tree stands, and I will be here every day at noon. If he does not, if he decides he will fight and forsake my warnings, then know I might not be able to stop Peeta."

"You made it sound a lot like Peeta was on your leash when you spoke before. 'Saving us'," said one.

Katniss' carefully masked control failed, and her anger, as they'd seen before, was a livid thing. "I am not queen, whatever I may have said. I can lie only so much to under-informed guards. Peeta mislikes Gale, and if he lets that get the better of him, and if Clove decides to influence him and push the matter, my words will mean little." Then she drew in a sharp breath, full of emotion, and said, "There are more than just Trojans here. The natives... the Panem people... they are peaceful. They won't stand for war. They do not deserve such an abuse. This land... this land should not be run over with blood. Not over Gale's rescue mission, nor revenge."

Rory stared at her. Before, when he'd first seen her and he'd said her name as she stood in that little circle of others, he'd expected to see the same woman from Niuva. Instead, as he watched and the longer that she argued with the guards, the more he noticed was different.

Was it all an act? She implied that it was, but he was not so convinced. It seemed rather real. The regal way she held herself, the riveting eyes above her striking features, the spill of her pitch-black hair falling about her shoulders and the tone of her voice: icy, yet firm. What a sight it had been to see her strike a fully grown, armed man, and then proceed to turn to that large beast of a man and growl with him in the native's strange tongue, clearly unshaken, and then to see fear in both of the men's faces as they faced her!

If the other Greeks were wary of her, then it was not without cause.

Rory did not want to believe it. He did not want to be the one to return and tell Gale of it.

He opted to ignore Katniss.

"Prim," Rory said, looking to her beseechingly beyond Katniss' shoulder. "Come with us, darling. Please. Bring me our child, let me hold my own child. I love you. I cannot forget you here. Please..."

She was crying again, the tears silent on her cheeks.

"Prim," Rory said, yet again, reaching out a hand.

She looked to Katniss, but her elder sister merely turned aside her face.

Prim, mirroring Katniss, turned her face aside.

An awkward silence followed, wherein Rory's face fell. The anger was gone, and he was merely a crestfallen boy.

Beside him the elder man cursed and growled, "The king will not be glad to see Gale's cause is an empty one."

He spit on the ground, then tossed down the torch and stamped it out.

Rory turned hastily. "No! The cause is still there."

"What king has Gale found?" Katniss cut in, worry eating at her stomach. The look of panic in Rory's eyes told her that this king was not one to anger. What sort of promises had Gale made to get here?

Rory did not turn. He kept staring at the elder man just as he'd so recently been staring at Prim.

The other Dorian Greeks of the group were similarly nettled by the man's statement.

"What king?" Katniss repeated.

The elder man drew himself to his full height. "His Majesty Undersee, the last king of Sparta."

"Sparta is long gone, and its people scattered," said Katniss. "Sparta fell in the Catastrophe."

"And you did not think they would regather?" the man said. "You think Trojans are the only people who can fall and then rise again? Spartans have raised themselves much faster than the Trojans."

Of course, she thought. It would not have taken much for Gale to draw the Spartans in. They're a ruthless, war-obsessed people. They want to prove themselves the strongest. Out-fight all enemies.

What better enemy to shame and best all other Greeks, if not the hated Trojans? What better feat would erase the memory of their fall, than taking Panem from said reclaimed Trojans? Gale's cause never had and never would matter.

Sparta will have their war, one way or another, Katniss despaired.

"Alright," she breathed. "I'll go with you. I want to meet this king and speak with Gale."

Prim's eyes threw wide. "But Peeta! He will not take this disappearance lightly! He will worry himself until all he can do is find you, Katniss. And he will! He can sense where –"

Katniss grabbed at her.

"Listen," Katniss said lowly, holding Prim's frantic shoulders. "Peeta will not go looking for me, because you are going to tell him not to. You will tell him only this: Remember. Tell him to remember when we walked through Troy and tell him: Above all others. Will you remember? Will you tell him?"

Prim nodded, but she still looked upset. "But... what about Achates? What about the godwell?"

"This is..." Katniss sighed. "Some things take priority. This is one of those things. I have to stop this war." Prim started to say something about it not being her responsibility, but Katniss shushed her. "Imagine it, Prim," she pressed. "Imagine Cinna fighting. Imagine Cecelia having to watch her sons and brothers go to war. Mothers in all villages will watch their children die. I can't let that happen."

Prim, yet more tears falling from her eyes, pressed her face into Katniss' arm. "What about Darius?"

Pain ran over Katniss' expression. "If he comes back, tell him where I am. Only him. No one else."

When Prim agreed, Katniss pressed a kiss into her forehead, and turned back to the Greeks. They'd been watching the sisters exchange yet could not hear their words. Katniss eyed them; their warm clothes, their thick cloaks, and their weapons. "We will need food," she said. "I will need better clothes."

"Aye."

"Hide in the woods on the other side of this meadow until just before dawn. I will come back then, alone and prepared." She closed her eyes momentarily. "Then we will make our way to this beach."

Peeta woke when I slipped into our bed. He turned over and pulled me into him, his face nuzzling my neck. He went still. "You smell like smoke," he said. "Where have you been?"

"At Cecelia's," I whispered, hating the lie. "I fell asleep."

"You could have stayed there, instead of walking the whole way back in the dark," he said, sighing and relaxing once more. "I hate to think of you alone and out in the night. Even if you're coming to me."

Guilt burned in my throat. "Cinna walked me."

"Now he's alone in the dark," Peeta murmured, sleepily.

I remembered a time once when Peeta would have cared not a whit for Cinna and his safety. Of course, that was black-eyed Peeta, and this was blue-eyed Peeta, and he was always so much sweeter. Sometimes I wondered if blue-eyed Peeta was especially compassionate; beyond that of any other man I would ever know. Beyond Gale, certainly, and beyond Cinna, too, if I looked closely enough. My guilt only doubled.

He would never understand what I was about to do. Perhaps he would not even think me capable, but this was for more than myself. I was not able to save Niuva. I had thrown myself at Peeta's feet, that very first time, and agreed to marry him on the condition he leave Niuva in peace, and even that was not enough. I could not stand idly by as an army prepared to march on Panbank.

Peeta would never bargain for peace, not if Gale triggered black-eyed Peeta, but perhaps there was a chance, a Dorian to a Spartan, that I could find a solution, and if that did not work, then I would press upon them that Peeta was no mortal man and that they would never beat a god.

I had to do something.

I placed my hands on either side of Peeta's face and drew it up to mine. I stared at him, and he smiled, his eyes still hooded in sleep.

"What?" he murmured. "Have I got you worried, now?" He yawned and pressed himself deeper into my hands. "Do you wish me to walk him home?"

A Trojan king, a god, should not be walking men such as Cinna home just at a worried woman's request. Especially when it was at an hour so late, when he could be doing better things.

"Yes," I whispered.

Peeta stared at me for a moment as if curious I meant it, shrugged, then began to sit up.

"No," I said. "I wasn't talking of Cinna."

He glanced down at me, and must have seen something in my expression, for he lowered himself once more and tightened an arm around my waist.

"What do you mean then? 'Yes'? Yes... you...?"

"Yes," I murmured, "I want you."

Peeta's entire composure slipped. "You – what?"

He was wide awake now. I was close enough to know he'd stopped breathing. One of my hands slipped to his chest; his heart was pounding. "I want you."

Peeta searched my face. "You do?"

Under his scrutiny I felt a little uncomfortable; especially since I was saying something that I had never thought I would say. If we were back in Niuva, I would have rather seen him dead than beside me. Now, I could not imagine my life without him.

"I do," I whispered.

"What made you change your mind?"

"Nothing," I said. "I wanted you before. When you kissed me. I just... could not say it."

"And you can now?"

I drew my hand to the back of his neck, leaned in, and pressed my lips to his. For a time, he kissed me, but then I stopped, drew in a breath, and pressed my forehead to his.

"I'm scared of losing you," I said.

"You won't," he whispered passionately.

"I'm scared you will change…"

"Not when I have you."

"What if I'm not here? If we get separated? Are you strong enough to hold out?"

"You told me once that the only way I can beat this is by wanting to. I'll still want to even if you're not at my immediate side." He brushed hair behind my ear. "Why do you speak of distance? I'm not leaving."

I am. "So much has changed between us."

"Yes."

My throat felt dry. My heart was pounding so fast I thought my entire chest must be shaking with its effort.

"Katniss," he said, and I thought I heard a catch in his voice. It was nervousness, if I could believe that from him. I wondered how a god could be nervous. Peeta always changed the meaning of the gods for me. He had shaken away what beliefs I had always had before his coming and all that I had ever known.

I tried to arrange my face into a smile, but I was too anxious to make any great success of it. I must have looked pale and apprehensive and likely to run at any moment. I thought this was not a good start.

"You grow more lovely with each day," he said, as if he needed to say it, and he smiled. "Katniss..."

Terrified of what he might say before I could speak, I rushed out, "There are words unsaid between us. Things..." I struggled to find the root of this thought. It was just that I wanted him to know: "I am sorry that I ever betrayed you, or that I said to you such foul words about Gale, or that –"

"Katniss, do you loathe me?"

He seemed to have disregarded every word I'd said, which made me cross, because it had taken all my effort to force them out. They had not easily leapt forth into voice.

"Loathe you? Why?"

"After everything I've done to you, you think you should apologize? After what I did... all that you have done was expected. The betrayal was expected. Using Gale… it was..." He sighed. "You make me feel worse with your apologies. You deserve my apologies more."

"Peeta, it's not you that owes me apologies, it's the other you. I'm not angry at you. It is you I want, to whom I apologize, not him. What you said as him –"

"I said stupid things." He ran his hand through my hair. I shuddered, and I knew he felt it, for his eyes widened in an almost stunned disbelief. He had not thought I would respond so readily to him. Could it possibly be that he was as apprehensive as I? As doubting as I?

His hand came to a halt at the back of my neck, his fingers so warm and strong.

"I have always said stupid and hateful things to you," he repeated, "because I – he – was so frightened of you."

"Frightened of me? Why?" His fingers were now stroking at the back of my neck, and I wished to every god in every realm that they would never stop.

"I was frightened of you because I felt too deeply for you. I was scared of loving you. I was terrified of you the moment I first laid eyes on you, I think. You were there so proud and sure in your king's megaron" —he half laughed— "having just kicked one of my guards in the shins and knocked another out. I was scared of you, and of your fire, and that is why I acted as I did. I demanded you as my wife, for I think I knew even then that I could not bear to lose you to another."

I could say nothing. I could hardly believe I was hearing these words.

He was so close, and our bodies touched briefly with this breath and that, at breast and calf. I could feel his heat and feel his heart skittering in his ribcage.

When I ran my fingers along his collarbones, his skin chilled under my fingertips.

"I was sick of being scared of loving you. He felt constantly that you would reject him. I think that is why he was so harsh on you," he continued. "And I am so glad... that you've found it in you to give me a chance." It was then that I knew he truly was scared. Scared that I would not take kindly to his words. "I knew all of that the moment I lost you on that beach. I knew I could not stand it, and I had to bring you back." He had pulled me from death as no man could. "I knew it in Niuva, when you'd promised to hate me. I had hated myself then, thinking you could. That was why he saved Primrose."

It was as strange to me as it always was to hear him speak as if he were two different people. What was he saying? That both had loved me? Or that... I did not truly understand, but his fervor touched me deeply. I had known that he could hate well. I had never realized until now how well, also, he could love.

"Well, that is good," I said, but I felt my voice choke up as I spoke those practical words.

He grinned at me. "I am saying too much."

"No."

"I am."

"It is nice to hear."

"If you say so," he said, running his hand through my hair again.

I kissed him then. I was afraid to speak. I did not want him to suspect my plans, and I did not want to be tempted to confess them to him. I wanted to trust him, to believe that he had full control over his black-eyed self, but I was never sure. I could not risk the safety of Panem's people over a desire to be trusting. What I could do, was not speak. I could show him how much I cared, not with my words or trust, but with my actions.

I deepened the kiss. His skin under my fingers did not burn. No, but there was a stronger sensation, like a spark, like lightning running through me. I mapped out the panes of his chest, and when my hand ran along his bicep, I half-expected the gold bands. I drew back suddenly.

He was instantly concerned by my wide-eyed stare. "Katniss?"

I examined every facet of his blue eyes. There was a clenching in my gut, and horrible memories in mind. I remembered the burn of the bands as they rubbed against me. I remembered the metallic smell of his sweat, and the agony of his hair dragging across my face, like a thousand –

Peeta cupped my cheek. "Are you well?" he whispered. "Did I do something wrong?"

I swallowed, hard. "Just tired," I said.

His smile was tender. "Then sleep," he said. "There is no reason to rush anything."

I nodded, made myself comfortable, and turned my back to him. He held me, lightly, and the clenching in my stomach subsided the longer we laid there breathing.

Just as I started to drift to sleep, I heard Peeta whisper, "Katniss… thank you, for talking with me… I hope…" I was asleep before I could hear what it was that he hoped.

I contemplated leaving him a note.

I lingered in the doorway of our house, clutching my bag of supplies. Prim sat on her bed, clutching much tighter to my son and her daughter. Seeing Achates made me ache and I almost changed my mind. I thought perhaps Prim was right and it did not have to be my job. I could stay. I could live in a palace, carefree, with my son to love, and Peeta in my bed, to kiss and to feel his love wash over me.

But, no, if I did not go, who would? If I did not go, there would be no peace.

Just as I told them to, the Greek men were waiting on the other side of the meadow.

Upon arriving I saw they did not truly expect me to come. Their weapons were drawn as if they thought I'd brought with me a fleet of soldiers. I was almost wounded by their lack of trust.

Except, I did not trust them very much either.

That was why when I turned to face the eldest man of the group, the Spartan, who introduced himself as Cray, I said, "I'm going with you without Peeta's knowledge, but Prim knows everything. If I'm gone too long, she's agreed to tell him. We have a little over a week. Enough time to travel there, stay a day or two, and then travel back. When we get there, I expect you to let your king know of this."

"He will know," said Cray. Then he eyed me critically. "We will be traveling hard and long, through unfriendly terrain. Will you keep up? I have no time for whining princesses."

"I'm no princess. I've traveled thus far with Trojans."

His grin was sudden and gave me a chill. "Aye, but Spartans are very different from Trojans." He turned and started to hand out orders, and I was left there trying to figure out the meaning of his words.

Peeta avoided panic for two full days after Katniss had not come home one night.

That first night he assumed Katniss had slept at Cecelia's, and though it displeased him that she might possibly be avoiding him after their discussion from the night before, he wanted to trust her and show her that he was not the possessive and controlling man that black-eyed Peeta was. The next night, though he was much more anxious, he remained outwardly calm. The following morning, he buried himself in work, but that night, when he returned to the hut, and one of the guards informed him that Katniss had not been seen in Panbank all day, he knew he had to act.

He started to round up his men and send them out to comb the Veiled hills, but before they could depart Primrose came to him with counseling words. Remember, above all others. He knew what it meant, of course. Katniss had told him before she would defend him, and that when the time came it may seem that she was not.

It was hard to believe there was anything that would call her away, especially something that had anything to do with aiding or defending him, but again, he wanted to trust her.

For the next two days his focus was worth little to nothing. All he could do was draw on the power Katniss gave him, and feel its tug drawing him toward the north road that led into the tribal lands. What would she do there? he wondered, constantly. What is north, but danger? How can I simply take her word and relax?

What was even more troubling was the fact that the night before she had slipped away, she'd confessed to him her want of him, and – Gods he was a fool! – she'd spoken of fear over his behavior once she was gone. He should have guessed it would come at a cost, that there was a reason behind her confession. He tried to recall everything that was said that night to gauge if there had been any fear in her. He could not remember any, so he was declined to believe the reason she'd opened up to him was due to fear of not returning, moreover the way she acted only fortified the belief she acted thus because her fear was fear of what she'd return to.

Thus, he tried his best to remain undisturbed.

However, on the fourth day, he could not hold his peace.

If Prim would not tell him where Katniss had gone, and why, then he needed to find another source.

Truthfully, he did not know Cecelia well, only that Katniss and the women had grown a close friendship, through Cinna, and Katniss could often be found at Cecelia's house. He was a little nervous, and uncertain how his sudden appearance would be perceived by the Mother, but he need not have worried.

When he arrived at her house that morning, Cecelia greeted him kindly, did not remark on how strange the meeting was, and hastened him inside from the wintry weather into the warmth and comfort of her house.

Cinna was there, his clothes mud-stained as if he had only recently arrived himself, and he, too, greeted Peeta, though not as kindly.

"Cinna," Peeta said, as he sat at a bench next to the hearth – albeit, he did so a little awkwardly, with Cecelia's family around, staring at him. "I cannot stay long… but I find I'm in need of your aid."

Surprise brightened Cinna's expression. His eyes flickered to Cecelia – Peeta did not miss that – before they settled on the Trojan king again. "What sort of aid are you seeking?"

"It's about Katniss."

"Is she in trouble?" Cecelia asked, sitting next to Peeta.

He looked over at her, heartened by her concern, but not soothed. "I do not know. She is... gone."

"Gone?" echoed Cinna. "Gone where?"

"You have not seen her these past three days...?" Peeta began.

"We thought she was displeased with us," Cecelia immediately put in. "We did not part with her last on good terms. She was angry, then, and we thought if she had not been here in days, it was that she was with you." Cecelia twisted toward Peeta, resting a hand on his. "Gone, you say? Gone where?"

"North is what I can sense, but nothing more than that." Peeta sighed. "I was hoping you'd know."

"I do not know anything of her leaving." Cecelia turned to Cinna. "Did she speak with you of this?"

"No, nothing." Cinna's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "North, you say? Beyond Chaff's forest?"

"Aye, north. I do not know how far. Perhaps in or beyond the forest. It could be either."

A heavy look passed between Cinna and Cecelia, and Peeta pursed his lips. "You know nothing?"

"The manner in which we last saw her... she spoke with some men who'd come from the north."

"'Some men'?" Peeta said, in disbelief. "What do you mean? Savages?"

"No," said Cinna and made to elaborate, but his mother motioned him to be silent.

Cecelia dropped her hand from Peeta's and stared at her feet. "I believe she wished us not to share this."

Frustration made Peeta's words harsh. "It could be she does not know what she had gotten herself in –"

"Katniss is smart," said Cecelia. "I believe she will be fine."

"And if she dies?" Peeta said, making no efforts to hide the anger in his voice. "You will bear that?"

"If she needed you," Cecelia said, calmly, "she would have taken you."

That, however, was a terribly worded statement that, already gripped by frustration, sent a bleak wave over Peeta, and his eyes flickered black. His hand – possessed – grasped the woman by the throat.

Then, before anyone in the house could draw a breath, he jerked away from her, standing up.

"Forgive me!" he said, gripping his hair. He screwed his eyes shut. "Forgive me..."

He left, rushing out into the sunlight, hoping to outrun the tide of darkness.

The last thing he wanted to do was fulfill Katniss' fears about him. The last thing he wanted to do was fail her. He decided he'd leave it be, as Prim said, and wait for her, and want nothing more than to be himself.

Cecelia stared after Peeta, running a light hand over her neck. About her, her children were horrified, angry, and when Cinna stood with his brothers, she raised a hand to put them at peace.

"He is but a worried man," she said.

"You cannot let that go! You are a Mother in this village, revered as any other! To threaten you should mean his hand!" Cinna's eldest brother furiously proclaimed. "I will take it myself! I do not mind."

"Oh, hush," his mother said, and looked at him sadly. "You do not like blood and violence. Hush."

Cinna sat beside his mother and held her around the shoulders. "You will let this go? We could use this against him. The other Mothers won't be glad he did it. Brutus could use this to an advantage..."

"Hush, Cinna," she said, pressing a finger into his lips. "We must be careful. I feel doom in my bones and cannot help but think you are somehow already caught up in it. I feel it more for our missing Katniss than for Peeta's threat. The godwell does not worry me over so much without Seeder."

"There is doom abroad for all of us, yes. But it is the godwell. It has to be. The day of the first ceremony draws nearer each day. If Katniss ran, then perhaps that is the reason. She senses doom, too."

"I do not think those men she helped were supposed to here, or freed," Cecelia confessed.

"Surely not," Cinna agreed. "She went with them? They had her look and her accent."

"We cannot know who they were or the boy who recognized her. If she did not tell Peeta of them, if she lied to the guards as it seemed she did, then she did not want Peeta to know. We won't tell him."

"I thought it would help," Cinna said, then, hesitantly, "Should we tell Brutus? He could go after her."

Cecelia thought about that, then, raising her eyes to Cinna, "Should he?"

"He would be safe in the travel, and he knows the land, even so far north."

Cradling her throat again, thoughtfully, Cecelia nodded. "Send him."