Chapter 2

I don't mean to fall asleep but when the sun hits my face, I'm still curled up on Peeta's pallet, the scent of him, and of us, enveloping me. Peeta, however, is nowhere to be seen. I can hear low voices - his and Mother's - and the clatter of teacups coming from the kitchen, just beyond the door. Hurriedly, I dress and sneak out into the yard, walking around outside to re-enter the house from the front. Mother will know that I didn't sleep in my own bed last night, but I'd still rather not advertise that fact.

When I walk through the door, Mother turns and beams at her. I shoot Peeta a questioning look, but he merely smiles beatifically, and I have to resist the urge to grin just as goofily at him. My future husband.

"Peeta asked me for your hand in marriage," Mother says, breaking me out of my daydreaming. I turn, shocked, to face her, but before I can protest, she continues. "I told him it wasn't mine to give." She smiles gently at me. "You're an adult, Katniss, independent and strong, and you've been your own woman for a long time." She reaches out tentatively for me, and I move into her arms. We haven't shared many affectionate moments since Daddy died, despite having grown closer in the time Peeta has been with us, but we hug each other hard now. "I'm proud of you," Mother whispers.

"I love you, Mom," I reply, the first time I've said it in eight long years.

Later, I hang back just inside the doorway as Peeta asks Prim if he can talk to her in private. He'd insisted on asking for Prim's blessing too, and my heart had melted at the gesture.

"You sister and I want to have a Toasting, Prim. May I have Katniss's hand in marriage?" Prim's answering squeals can be heard across the Seam. When she dashes off down the street to share the news with Rory Hawthorne, I step onto the porch, smiling softly and adoringly at my fiancé.

"I love you," I murmur.

Peeta is bashful. "She deserved a say." I laugh.

"You think she wouldn't have approved of us? Prim's been trying to marry me off for years."

Merchant weddings usually involve a lot of guests coming to the home of the groom's or bride's parents for cake. Seam marriages are generally celebrated with only a small shared meal between the two families and maybe a couple of close friends. All that's legally required is a trip to the Justice Building to sign some papers, but no one in District 12 really feels married without a Toasting, when the newly married couple builds a fire together in their new home and toasts a bit of bread. It's an ancient ritual, passed down through the generations, one of the few that remain from before the Dark Days.

Peeta has been living in the Seam for well over a year now, but he's still a Merchant down deep, and a baker at heart, so I don't try to dissuade him of his plans for a grand cake to share with the community. Unlike a Merchant wedding however, he opines that we celebrate in our Meadow.

We set a date for two Sundays hence. Sunday is the only day the mines are closed, and many of our friends and the people that Peeta has gotten close to in the Hob are miners.

Rye and Brann are thrilled for their little brother. Brann volunteers to help with the cake, while Rye offers up his own kitchen for the preparation. I feel a pang of sadness when I realize that Peeta won't be able to help bake his – our - wedding cake in his own kitchen. The kitchen he grew up in, but the Mellark brothers leave it unspoken that their parents cannot hear of their youngest's nuptials, at least not from their mouths.

Delly promises a bouquet of flowers for me, and Mr. Cartwright gifts me a new pair of fine leather slippers to wear with my dress. They're far too fancy for me but I haven't the heart to disappoint Mr. Cartwright, who seems almost as happy for me as he was for his own daughter. And I know that Prim will be able to wear them too, when she marries.

The dress itself is actually an heirloom from my mother – "something borrowed," she calls it, reverently, almost as if the phrase itself is something traditional, has some deeper meaning from another time. Off to one side, Prim coughs out a phrase that sounds suspiciously like, "She means stolen." Apparently, it is custom for Merchant mothers to pass down their wedding dress to their daughters when they Toast the bread. When my grandparents disowned her, Mother apparently carried off the prized garment with her, and wore it when she wed my daddy. Now it is being handed down to me. It will someday be worn by Prim. Mother's dress has probably been worn only a handful of times, through the generations, but Prim tacks on ribbons and lace, and it looks like something completely new. I keep it hidden in Prim's and my bedroom, insistent that Peeta not see it until the big day.

I see little of my fiancé in the week leading up to our wedding day. I work five days a week at the shoe shop. He works six at the Hob and virtually every spare minute he has, he's at Rye's house, creating a confectionary masterpiece. I wait up for him one evening, three days before we are to be wed. Peeta finds me on the front steps, bundled against the spring chill in my father's hunting jacket, clutching a flask of hot tea. He seems to sense my mood and drops onto the stoop beside her wordlessly. For a time, we simply sit in silence, passing the flask back and forth. Finally I gathers the courage to speak.

"I don't want children," I confess, unable to look Peeta in the eye. "I know you do, and you deserve a whole gaggle of little blond babies to spoil with cookies and shower with love. I can't give you that, not as long as there is the Reaping hanging over them. I'm so sorry, Peeta. I.. I understand if you want to find someone else, someone who can give you everything you deserve." I reach the end of the speech I've been practicing for days and bite my lip hard against the tears that threaten to invade. I love him too much to trap him in a childless marriage.

I'm afraid to look at his face, to see his anger, his disappointment. So I stare at my feet until a large hand gently but firmly tips up my chin. His expression isn't angry, though. He almost looks amused. "Do you really think I didn't know that, Katniss?" He smiles then, and strokes my cheek. "We've been together for two years, and I've loved you for most of my life. I know you. And yes, I'd like to have children, but only if it's with you. I want you so much more than I want kids. What we have is enough for me, and you're so much more than I deserve." I move to argue but he stops me with a kiss. "I'm so happy, Katniss. You make me so happy. If children ever came into the picture, it'd be wonderful, but even if it never happens, I'll still be the happiest man in Panem. Because of you. You're all of my dreams come true." It's sappy, and a little silly, but I beam anyway.

Peeta spends the night before our Toasting at Rye's house, at Libby's insistence; apparently there's an old Merchant custom that seeing the bride before the wedding is bad luck. I think it's hogwash, but it does give me an opportunity to meet with Brann early that Sunday morning, before the spring sun has even crested the horizon. He doesn't ask why I want his help baking such a specific loaf of bread and I don't offer any explanation.

"Do you think he'll like it?" my soon-to-be brother-in-law asks me as he stokes the flames out back in our yard.

"Peeta will understand. That's all that matters."

And when it comes out of the little brick oven with the crusts slightly charred I know it's even more perfect.

Prim fusses all morning; it's the first wedding she's ever been invited to and she seems determined to make everything perfect, hardly giving me a moment to myself. By the time Mother sends her youngest out to collect wildflowers for her sister's hair, I'm a nervous wreck.

In the few moments of stolen quiet while Prim is gone, Mother calms and soothes me, her eldest girl, tentatively sharing the kind of maternal insights that have been so lacking in our relationship over the year. It makes me reflect on how much has changed since Peeta came into our lives.

Prim and Mother braid two small sections of my hair, crowning me with the ropes and leaving the rest of the raven locks to cascade freely, knowing how Peeta loves my hair down. They weave wildflowers through the strands; Queen Anne's lace and clover and rue and dandelions. Lots of dandelions.

I even tuck a few of the sunny yellow blooms into the small bouquet of white carnations Delly brings me. I wonder if Peeta knows that I've associated him with dandelions since we were children, since the day after he saved me with the bread, when I saw the first dandelion of spring in the schoolyard.

Each time my nerves threaten to get the best of me, I look at them, tucked into my bouquet, crowning my little sister's golden head, and I'm reminded of the boy with the bread. Peeta is my dandelion in spring, bringing me hope, reminding me that life can be good.

Once I'm in my dress and in front of the mirror, Mother steps back to admire her handiwork. "Now you look beautiful too," she murmurs softly.

"I wish I looked like you," Prim mutters from the loveseat.

I turn and flit back to her, kissing her face. "Oh, no…. I wish I looked like you, Little Duck!"

"Are you really getting married?" Prim's eyes are shining, and she even lets out a romantic sigh. "To Peeta?"

I smile, flushing. "Well…. yes. I suppose I am. If he'll have me."

Prim giggles. "He'll have you! I've seen the way you look at each other. I know you've been in love forever!"

My head swims. Was I such a fool that my sister could see what I couldn't? That I loved and lusted for this man who is soon to be my husband, long before I even could put it into awareness? I can only smile, standing up so my bridal skirts no longer fan out.

"Well…. then, let's go get me hitched, why don't we?" Looping my arm through hers, I allow Primrose and Mother to escort me across the Seam and into Town to the Justice Building. My eyes and my heart pine as we pass by the Bakery, but I soon wince when I can clearly hear shouting:

"I FORBID IT!" That's the Baker's Witch of a wife, Peeta's mother. Has he told her? Has he told her of his intent to marry me? To take me as his bride, his wife? In our stolen moments and kisses alone together lo these many weeks, Peeta has promised that, despite the danger it might bring down upon our heads, he will tell his mother of our intent to wed.

"Don't worry, Katty, I won't ask for her blessing. Only her acceptance. I will stand there with you in the District Clerk's office."

Mother and Prim sequester me in the cloister just off the District Clerk's office. When couples go to marry in District 12, they must sign a marriage license in the presence of the clerk and the district Justice of the Peace so that they may be declared married as husband and wife in the eyes of the law. I have only been inside the Justice Building once before, when Daddy died and I, as the eldest child, was awarded the Medal of Valor on his behalf. But marriages take place in a different section of the building, so I'm able to push those unhappy memories away.

It is several minutes before the District Clerk comes to fetch us.

"We are ready for you now, Miss Everdeen."

With Mother and Prim escorting me, I enter the tiny office. I promptly lose my breath when I see Peeta, handsome in a pressed dress shirt and slacks. He's wearing a crisp new shirt, pale blue, much like the one he wore for our first date. I think he's even more handsome now than he was that day. The years have been kind to Peeta, sculpting his jaw and broadening his shoulders. He's no longer the shy boy who was so afraid to talk to me; he's a strong, confident man now. And soon he'll be my husband.

When he sees me approaching his face lights up, awestruck. He is gazing at me as though I am radiant as the sun. I can't contain my grin as I run the last few feet to stand before him. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he gasps, stroking my loose locks with a shaky hand.

"You don't look so shabby yourself, Mellark," I try to joke, but my voice sounds breathy and giddy. He laughs.

"Still want to do this?" His question is lighthearted but I can see the genuine worry. I grab his hand and tow him towards the District Clerk's desk in response.

Standing before him, we join hands as the Justice of the Peace blesses us:

"Katniss Magenta Everdeen, do you take this man, Peeta Joseph Mellark, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," I murmur, still stunned that I could proclaim so openly and without reserve.

"Peeta Joseph Mellark, do you take this woman, Katniss Magenta Everdeen, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Peeta is beaming.

"Will both of you sign here, please?" We approach the desk where the District Clerk is now directing us to sign the marriage license. I take a deep breath as I affix my signature to the document. I stare down at the new name I have taken, my married name: Katniss Everdeen Mellark.

All is silent as the clerk pushes paper after paper across the narrow desk, and with nothing more than a few flourishes of a pen Peeta and I are officially wedded by the laws of Panem and the laws of District 12. Our first married kiss tastes like equal parts joy and relief.

"Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss," the Justice of the Peace says. I smile shyly as Peeta takes me in his arms, and when he kisses me, I melt into it instantly.

"I love you!" I whisper along the seam of his lips, my voice strangely hoarse, and I realize it is because I am crying from happiness. "I love my husband…"

There is one more thing that must be done. The District Clerk now hands us deed papers. "Here is the assignment to your new house in the Seam: 331 Oberlin Road. Blessings on you both."

Mother snatches up the thick envelope that contains the address and keys for the house assigned to us newlyweds; it's customary that the family sneak in before the couple gets there to set things up.

I laugh as Prim runs up and hugs me around the middle, my baby sister chittering to me with excitement, and I kneel before her, my bridal skirts fanning out, to kiss her cheek. Then, arm in arm with my…. with my husband, we leave the Justice Building together, striding back to our new home in the Seam.

The path is lined with people singing the traditional District 12 wedding song. Merchant and Seam, blond and dark heads both raise their voices in celebration. I find myself overwhelmed by the outpouring of affection. I never thought of the district as a place that cared about me until this moment.

There's almost a carnival atmosphere in the Meadow as people file in, having followed the bride and groom, singing and laughing the whole way. Peeta's brothers set up tables and cover them with treats; cookies and squares, a rare treat for so many of the Seam folk in attendance. And then they bring out the cake.

I've never seen such an enormous cake in my life, could never have even dreamed one. And yet, even though it's massive, it's so perfectly simple. Instead of the stacked tiers that are popular with the wealthiest merchants it's a single layer, rectangular, easy to cut and to share.

But it's certainly not plain. Peeta has painstakingly recreated our Meadow in cake form.

On a layer of green frosting he's arranged at least a hundred gum paste wildflowers; clover and buttercups and even dandelions. It simply couldn't be more perfect. I can barely fathom how much work he's put into it.

Peeta is fixated on me, the entire time, waiting, yearning for my approval. "Do you like it, Sweetheart?" And though I'm not one for public displays, I stretch up on my toes and loop my arm around his neck to kiss him soundly. Cheers and wolf whistles go up, then a smacking sound; I smirk into my husband's lips as I think of Rye getting a little too boisterous, and deepen the kiss, purring.

There's music and dancing, virtually everyone we know makes an appearance. Gale comes with Leevy; Weston, Delly and her father; Peeta's brothers and most of his childhood friends. Even Sae and her little granddaughter twirl together. The hugs and handshakes are nonstop.

Though his smile never once falters, I catch Peeta several times looking towards Town for the two people who don't show up. My heart pangs for the man I love, the man I married.

When the party dies down we slip away to our new home. I'm a Merchant now, so we've been assigned a house in Town, but Rye must have pulled some strings because our new dwelling is on the very edge of Town, right at the path that leads to the Seam. Fitting for a couple whose lives straddle both communities in so many ways.

I am shocked when Peeta and I arrive at our new home to find that Greasy Sae, half the Hob, and even Gale have followed us here from the reception, waiting at our front door. Cheers erupt when they see us, the happy couple, and I bashfully hide my aflame face in Peeta's shirt. I am the picture of a blushing bride, luminescent, radiant, and Peeta's gaze of adoration only further warms me.

I let out a surprised squeal as Peeta suddenly sweeps me off my feet and carries me, bridal-style, across the threshold of our new home.

Town homes, while tiny, are palaces compared to the shacks in the Seam. But I barely notice the larger living room, the separate kitchen, the bathroom with a real bathtub. All I see is the fireplace, a tiny bundle of kindling on the hearth beside a white linen wrapped lump - the bread I baked with Brann that morning. The papers at the Justice Building, the party, the cake, none of those things are as real as the scene before me. The enormity of it leaves me breathless.

Peeta's eyes never leave me, his bride. He's uncharacteristically silent as I light candles. The electricity is off, as usual, and the sun has nearly set. Once the room is aglow I turn to him, holding out my hands. His eyes are like saucers as he takes in the sight of me in my wedding dress, bathed in candlelight. We stand in front of the cold fireplace for many long moments, just staring, admiring. Finally with a shuddering breath I ask, "Ready?"

Peeta's a whiz with fires, expertly laying the kindling and coaxing the flames into a roaring blaze, filling the room with warmth and light.

We kneel before the hearth, hands clasped tightly together, both trembling with nervous anticipation. I'm about to reach for the Toasting bread when Peeta stops me. "I wanted to give you something first," he says softly, releasing one of my hands to reach into the pocket of his shirt. "I know it's not customary in the Seam, but I was hoping…" he trails off, and my breath catches. The firelight bounces off the object in his hand. A ring, a wedding band. I've seen them before; Mrs. Undersee wears one, but it's an extravagance a poor girl from the Seam like me could never have dreamed of wearing myself.

He lifts our joined hands and reverently slides the thin silvery band onto my finger; it's a perfect fit. It's not a plain band, as I first thought, but three slender cords, braided together. Made by Brann's hand, I've no doubt. Peeta must have been saving up for it for months, for far, far longer than our fortnight engagement. He answers the unspoken question in my eyes. "I've been waiting for this day practically my whole life, Katniss. I've always believed we would get here, that no matter what…"

"This would have happened anyway," I finish for him, and his smile is dazzling in response.

Peeta reaches for the bread then, and I hold my breath. Baking this loaf had seemed so fitting, but compared to the gift he's just given me it feels silly now. I watch as his brows furrow; the slightly charred, dense loaf isn't what he was expecting, of course. The Bakery sells tiny loaves of fine white bread for Toastings, and I know that's what he'd asked Brann for.

"I baked it," I whisper, and his eyes snap up, filled with awe. I take one end of the loaf and together, we break it apart. His eyes widen when he sees the fruit and nuts inside. "Do you remember?" I ask, and he nods. "I never even thanked you."

"You never needed to. I never expected anything."

"I know," I rush to reassure him. "You saved my life that day, Peeta. Mine and Prim's and my mother's. But it's more than that. You gave me hope. You… you helped me to see that life could be good again." I shuffle forward awkwardly, until my face is just inches from his. "You're still doing that. Every single day. Your kindness, your steadiness, your love. I never knew I could be this happy."

My confession may be disjointed and rambling but he understands, and the bread lies forgotten in his lap as he cups my face, kissing me with barely restrained passion. "Let's do this," he groans when finally we break apart, "so I can make love to my wife."

There's no protocol to a Toasting, no rules to follow or speeches to recite, though most couples say at least a few words. Kneeling together, forehead to forehead, sharing bites of life-sustaining bread, toasted in our marital home by our own hands, the only words that pass between us are hushed declarations of love and devotion. When every bite has been enjoyed he kisses the crumbs from the corners of my mouth and then carries me into our bedroom.

We undress each other with sure hands, caressing and complimenting, each touch an affirmation of our commitment, kissing in frenzied, desperate pecks all the while.

His hands suddenly cup the accentuated flesh of my rear, groping me heavily, cupping first one cheek and then the other. In response, I boldly raise my leg to his waist, hooking around his torso as he slides in between my splayed thighs.

Gripping his face, I bring his lips down on mine again, and we stagger back into the dresser. I can feel Peeta's excitement against the inside of my thigh, and I squeal when he starts to rutt against me with his pelvis. Taking his bottom lip in between mine and nibbling with a growl, I seize his buttocks in my fists, nails digging into his glutes as I furiously rock my hips back.

It's a hard thing, to remain standing while you're making out, and also trying to undress each other. Peeta keeps pressing me into walls and furniture to kiss me senseless, and I mewl in happy bliss, squirming with delight as his thumb grazes over my pebbling nipples before his whole hand cups my breasts. Without breaking the kiss, I feel my wedding dress pool on the floor at my feet and my fingers deftly reach for Peeta's belt, tugging at it as our lips swallow each other.

I tumble back onto our bed, taking my lover with me. Gasping for air, I feel his fingers peeling back my underwear down to my ankles, and I boldly spread my legs, panting.

I gasp as Peeta continues to kiss my lips and everywhere else. I throw his trousers down and blush rouge at how his organ pops free, erect and ready for me, glistening with pre-cum.

Lining up our entrances, Peeta's azure eyes lock onto my silver ones. Gulping, I nod softly, and I feel a pinch as he pushes into me. Arching my back, I let out a whimper.

"O-Only for you…." I moan. "I'm yours, Peeta." I tenderly kiss his cheek. "Only yours." Another kiss to his forehead. "Always yours…." I lips meet once again, and I draw back to stare at him fiercely. "I love you."

Peeta growls. "Mine….." His lips descend back on mine fiercely. "I love you," he gasps out, his breath tickling my mouth, and I giggle.

The pain is starting to ebb, but Peeta had stopped immediately like the gentleman he is. Wrapping my legs around his middle, we begin to undulate and rock against each other. We've never made love in a bed before, and the squeaking of the springs makes me giggle. All the while, we kiss lazily as we finally make love, Peeta changing course every few moments to suckle on my purple nipples and lavish my breasts with his tongue. The noises I make are pathetic, and I could give a damn.

"Huhhh….. Uhhhhh….." I grind along his length now sliding in and out of me as he thrusts. "Oh, Peeta….. Oh, baby….. That's it….. Harder…. Faster…."

He picks up the pace, and I clamp my thighs around him all the tighter.

"Now," I whisper in his ear, egging him on. "I need you to fuck me right now. Don't hold back."

"Oh, fuck…." Peeta throws my one leg over his shoulder and drives into me, leaving me to writhe beneath him with a happy wail.

I throw my head back into the pillow, arching my back in ecstasy. "Uggghhhh….. Huhhh….. Yessss… Now, cum inside me. I want you to cum deep inside me…."

Peeta loses whatever little control he had left. "Oh, Katniss!" Burying his face in my neck, I feel him shudder as he releases within me.

Happy tears are sliding down my cheeks, and I feel him kiss them away. But my laughter cuts off sharply when Peeta's thrusts increase in power and speed, the banging of the iron headboard against the wall drowning out the squeaks. Feeling something within me crest, my jaw goes slack as I arch into him and cry out:

"PEETA!" I scream his name again and again as my orgasm explodes all around him. Peeta jerks into me one last time, milking me, and then he collapses on top of me. The raw passion on his face, the intensity in his eyes, his love that surrounds me and fills me as he claims me, I've never felt so certain. Never felt so safe. The two of us clutch at each other, slick with sweat and panting, drifting into a lethargic sleep.