Prim hastened about the house. She collected a cloak to ward off the cold and slipped her feet into a pair of sturdy clogs against the mud, and then hurried over to the children. She wrapped them both in thick blankets, then slung Achates over her back and held Aurora close to her front, and departed the house swiftly, walking through Panbank and then to the ferry crossing of the river.

People were everywhere, despite the cold. Many of the Trojans still worked on fortifying their winter settlements – houses within the city walls would not be available for at least a year. Women worked at their household tasks, weaving and baking, minding children, drawing water at the riverbank.

The road that led through the Trojan's settlement was now virtually impassable – so many bull-drawn carts had carried building materials from the southern quarries toward the ferry over the Pan that the graveled surface had been trodden into ankle-deep mud – so Primrose stepped carefully on its verges, mindful of the need to avoid slipping.

As she neared the Pan, she stopped, worriedly, and raised her face to the northern bank.

It was a hive of activity. Where six weeks earlier had been three gentle grassed mounds, divided by the streams and bounded on their southern edge by the clay cliffs above the Pan, were now three humps, their grass mostly trampled into the earth beneath, covered with teams of laborers, groups of engineers, piles of gravel, wooden stacks, rough-cut stone sections that stone masons were hewing into neatly edged building blocks, and intermittent heaps of soil that had been dug out of the wall's foundation trenches.

Primrose had been to the site no more than once in the past two weeks, at Finnick's insistence, but had not stayed long. She had felt in the way among all the scurrying and purposeful workers, and when she'd managed to find Peeta, he'd been distant, distracted, and had turned aside as soon as he could.

He'd been like that for the two weeks Katniss had not returned home.

She held her breath, nervousness fluttering in her stomach at the thought. Questions flooded her mind: Where was she? Why hadn't Katniss come back? What was she doing? Surely the time in which to tell Peeta of where Katniss had gone was upon her. It had been too long not to worry.

Prim had put it off, in hope. She did not want to believe that Katniss was in trouble. She wanted to believe that Rory and Gale would protect her, and that the Spartans would not want to harm her, but last night she'd sworn to herself that if Katniss was not back by morning that she'd have to tell Peeta, or risk Katniss' life.

With a sigh, and yet another worried pang in her stomach, she set off to the ferry.

The ferry landed on the northern bank of the Pan at the midpoint of the southern wall.

Primrose accepted the ferryman's assistance in stepping from ferry to the river's muddied shore, thanked him, then turned and studied the immediate area. The foundations of this southern wall seemed all but done. The trenches had been dug, and were now filled with a mixture of gravel, flint, and clay. Stonemasons were laying the founding course of stones for the wall.

Prim stopped at the first group of men she came to and asked where Peeta was.

The foreman stopped, straightened, stretched his back, and then wiped his sweating face.

"You're like as not to find yourself knee deep in mud, my lady," he said, eying her cloak and footwear, and then more doubtfully, the two babies clinging to her front and back. "This is no pleasure garden."

"I need to see Peeta," Prim said, as firmly as she could manage.

"He's up on that hill," said the foreman, nodding in the direction of the easternmost mound.

Prim turned to go, then hesitated. "Is Clove with him?"

"Aye," the man said. Several other of the men in his work squad had now put down their tools and were studying Primrose silently. "He is surveying the sight for the megaron with her, last I heard."

Her eyes closed momentarily, and she drew in a deep breath. She'd come this far, turning around now would be cowardly. She could not allow fear to get the better of her. Darius had told her once fear was an illusion.

With that she was gone, moving as quickly as she could through the gangs of workers and piles of building materials.

The hill rose at nearly a steep enough angle that Prim could not climb it in the mud and with the children; one of the working men from before rushed forward to help her though. As Prim drew nearer, holding tightly to the helpful man's arm as she went, she could see that the wall's eastern foundations were as advanced as those of the southern wall.

The ceremony was days away.

When she was but ten or twelve paces from the top of the hill and had the low rising walls of the building in sight, she heard Peeta's voice floating down to her.

She scrambled the final few paces, breathing heavily, and paused to catch her bearings and give the man her thanks. He bobbed his head and smiled at her, until she turned away. The top of the mound had been covered with the foundations of a large building. It was much smaller than the palace she had been raised in, but there was no telling how it would turn out.

Peeta, still talking, walked through a half-completed doorway into a chamber that was surely meant to be the megaron. The walls of this chamber were almost complete and already wooden beams stretched across its roof space. It would be finished within weeks. Beside him Clove smiled and clung to his arm.

Cautiously, Prim moved through the building, disregarding the mud or the curses of the builders she jostled.

"Peeta!" She stopped halfway down the chamber, and waited, hoping to lure him away from Clove.

He jumped, then turned to stare at Prim, a frown marring his features.

"What do you here?" he said.

"I... I came to speak with you," she said, not sure how to phrase it. Clove was staring at her, openly, and though there was no hate in her eyes – as was reserved for Katniss – there was something akin to suspicion. Terror gripped Prim for a moment. What if she knows? What if Darius' bracelet fails? Can she tell? Drawing in a shaking breath, holding Aurora tighter, Prim said, "Privately, perhaps?"

Peeta glanced over at Clove, who scowled. "You can speak in front of me," she said.

"What's this about?" asked Peeta, concern rising in his face. It was not often Prim spoke to him.

She looked down. "It's about Achates."

"Achates?" Peeta moved forward, leaving Clove's side. "Is he ill?"

For every step Peeta took closer to Prim she took one back, hoping to draw him further and further away, but he stopped eventually, frowning. "Do you not wish me to see him? What are you doing?"

"It is... it is shaded in here. Come out in the sun... to better see him."

Then she turned and fled, and hoped he'd follow.

Sure enough, as she loitered out in the muddy lot beside the palace structure, Peeta emerged, looking harried and concerned. He stepped immediately to Prim, taking Achates from the sling. As he cradled and examined his son thoroughly, Prim tried to think of how best to phrase what she needed to say.

When he finished his examination of his son, his eyebrows were practically touching his hairline. "I do not see anything wrong with him, other than he has been brought to this hazardous place, in this cold." He placed Achates back in the sling. "What did you think was wrong with him?"

"I guess... I guess he just misses his mother."

Instantly the expression of Peeta's face changed. First pained, then hard, and then carefully dull.

"You told me not to worry," he reminded her.

Prim looked down at her daughter and shook her head.

"What? What is it?" He looked to the north. "I sense her."

"She was supposed to be back... a few days ago. I'd thought she delayed, maybe... but it's been too long, and she told me if she was gone too long to tell you where she was."

Prim peeked up at him.

His face was livid. Not with anger, but with concern and need. "Where is she?"

"She left... she left with..." Prim struggled to word it gently. "A couple of men..."

"Cinna mentioned that, when I saw him two weeks ago. But he never said who."

"They were Greeks," Prim said, softly. "Dorians. Rory was among them... she left to meet with Gale."

"Gale?" There was a distinctive edge in his voice. "Gale lives?"

"Yes," Prim murmured. "He and a few others. They... they've gathered an army. They sailed here and have camped north of Panbank on a beach a couple day's walk away. Katniss went to stop the war."

Peeta said nothing more, so Prim raised her head. He was staring in the distance.

"And she did not tell me?" he asked.

"No... she didn't wish to worry you. She didn't want it to come to fighting."

"Now it is likely that she is in trouble." Peeta frowned and turned his eyes to her. "Where did Gale get his army? What manner of men are they?"

"Spartans."

Peeta looked to the north again, his lips folding in distaste.

"Go home, Prim," Peeta said, turning from her and strutting away. "It is safe there."

I do not know what I hated more: the looks Gale gave me or the bite of the chains on my wrists.

I knew by now that Gale could not hate me so much as his eyes tried to portray. If he did despise me for resisting his aid, defending the Trojans and calling myself Peeta's wife, then he would be out on the beach with the Spartans preparing himself for war. Instead, he is chained alongside me.

I could only assume Gale had done something to show Undersee that he would not sit idly aside as I was locked away as a hostage. He must have done something that proved himself disloyal enough to lock away, and if he was disloyal to the king who meant to harm Panem and its' people, then I could only assume that he was a potential ally.

I saved my own hateful looks for my real enemy: the Spartans. Threats did little to move them, but I often shouted about Prim's knowledge. "Let her tell him," Undersee would say. "If I let you go you will just do the same, and worse, I'll have no leverage over this Trojan's head. You are valuable to me here."

And so, for the last two weeks, I had been imprisoned.

It was not an unpleasant two weeks. I had initially started off unchained and with the freedom of the tent Undersee had confined me in. There was food and a bath and a bed. But once I had tried to escape one too many times, and at one point injured one of his guards, I was given chains that reached no further than halfway across the tent, fettered to the bed.

It was on that day Gale joined me in my prison. He, too, was given chains, and – though we had not tried – I knew neither of our confinements were long enough to allow us to touch or get close enough to conspire. I think, perhaps, Undersee had put Gale in here with me in his efforts to cow me, and as an insult to Gale.

Still, even chained, we were treated kindly enough. We were fed all our meals and given enough blankets to stave off the cold, and whenever the guards came, they were nothing more than demure.

Once or twice I had even caught Undersee's daughter loitering outside our tent, and she'd smile at me, and then bite her lip when she saw Gale, and it always seemed as though she was bursting to say something. I knew not what, but ever since the moment I had first seen her, I knew she was of value.

However, I could not get any information about her. I asked Gale – I asked Gale a lot of questions – but he was never inclined to answer me. Usually he'd just sigh or look away, and I knew that he was both disappointed in me and with himself. He wanted to hate me, but he could not. Regardless, he would not turn himself into a traitor by giving me information.

The two weeks were mostly spent in silence, laying on my bed and staring up at the top of the tent, wondering what would come the day Prim did tell Peeta.

What would he do? Would he gather men and march north? Worse?

I worried about that, and then I worried about what he wouldn't do, because what if he did nothing? What if he left me here at Clove's influence, and because I left, blue-eyed Peeta was long gone?

Once I exhausted myself with worry, I would turn my thoughts to Achates or Prim or Darius. I assumed Darius was still missing, since he had not shown up to help me as he always used to.

Where was he? What was he doing? Why had he left? Was he dead? Hurt? Trapped, as I was?

I rolled over and looked to Gale, hoping to escape my thoughts. He was picking through a bowl of dried fruit.

"If you were free," I started, voice as low as I could manage and still be heard, "what would you do?"

Gale glanced over at me from the corner his eye, then continued to ignore me.

"Would you fight for Undersee?" I pressed. "Would you fight against me?"

Still, no response.

"If rescue comes for me," I whispered now, "I don't want to leave you here if you are in danger."

"Leave me," Gale said tersely. "I will not join the Trojans, nor pledge loyalty to their king."

"Come as my friend," I insisted. "He will not demand fealty."

Gale made a noise: disgusted and disinterested. "'He'," he scoffed.

"Yes, I speak of Peeta," I said, annoyed. "He does exist."

Gale made a face.

"If rescue comes, he will be it," I continued. "Promise me you won't fight him."

"I make no promises."

"Gale, I don't want to see you hurt."

"You already have," he muttered, and with that, he turned his back to me.

I sighed, my eyes returning to the ceiling and my mind to previous worries. In my thoughts, the only thing worse than Peeta not coming for me at all, was Peeta coming and killing Gale before I could work in a word of calm.

Peeta stared out at the progress of New Troy and then to the lights of Panbank on the other side of the river. The first of the stars were starting to appear in a great silver belt across the cloudless sky. Hours had passed since Primrose had told him of Katniss' whereabouts.

Had I not told her to arrive at moonrise? Peeta thought to himself. The moon was nearly half-way across the sky. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

He heard footsteps and turned his head in excitement, then frowned. "What?" he snapped.

Clove perched herself against a beam of wood from the half-finished palace behind him. "I heard the message you sent her," she said, simply. "She won't come, you know."

"Annie will come."

Clove shook her head. "She won't." Then she sighed and moved down the steps to sit on the bottommost one. "You call her for no reason..."

"I need her help."

"I could help you."

"But you won't. I don't trust you."

Stung, Clove hissed at him, "And yet you trust that bitch of a wife of yours."

"She has never used me as you have used me."

"You are blind to think she doesn't!" she hissed, moving to rise, but before Clove could react, Peeta snatched her by the wrist and twisted hard enough it forced Clove onto her knees. "Let me go!" she cried, struggling.

Clove tried to pull back with her power and fling his hand away, but he merely smothered the attempt. Blind panic hit her at that. Gods, he is stronger than me! She cried out when he twisted her wrist further, breaking the fragile bones.

"Peeta!" A sharp sob escaped her as she clawed at his hand. "Stop!"

He let her go, but it was rudely, and she fell back against the steps. She pushed herself up on her unbroken hand and cradled the other against her chest.

"It'll heal," Peeta told her and turned to watch the moon.

Clove rose to her feet, "You'll regret that! Just because you're Hades now... I'll get Hera! I'll be stronger!"

"Go away."

"Why? So, you can waste your time with this? Leave Katniss to her own stupidity! She went into the Spartan camp alone. It was her own decision! No doubt she went to reunite with her past lover! That Gale! Let her go!"

Peeta swung his head around and looked about ready make another grab at her, but she saw a change of decision in his eyes. He ground his teeth, clenched his fists, and ignored her.

It was worse.

To simply be given a cold shoulder, to be so little a threat to him that he ignored her!

An urge to stamp her foot and demand attention surged through Clove. Gods! Why couldn't he just care more about her than Katniss?

"Annie won't come," she said, coldly. "You're wasting your time here."

After a moment, Peeta gave in and replied, "Is she not on our side anymore?"

"She has bigger problems. Problems I'm not willing to help her with. She won't come."

"Then maybe I'll call on Thresh," Peeta said and Clove's face turned pale.

"He will kill you!"

"Maybe not. Maybe if I promise him my loyalty, he'll help me."

Clove just stared, wordlessly, trying to decide if Peeta was serious.

"Go home, Clove. I don't want to play games with you now."

Is that what you do? she thought. Play games with me? And this, now? Is this the real you?

Peeta snorted humorlessly.

For the third time, he asked her to go away and, finally, Clove left.

Once she was gone, Peeta drew in a deep breath to clear his head.

He waited until moon-high for Annie.

She never came.