roses are red, roses are white Chapter 6: white fading into red, a hunger games fanfic

roses are red, roses are white
part one
now rises the sun of york
chapter five
white fading into red

(Annie is waiting for Madge when she returns from the wedding festivities, her cheeks stained pink and a small, shy smile touching her mouth. Her eyes seem to shine and Annie knows better than to ask why.

Gale of Salisbury)

(how Annie hates him)

Madge can still feel Gale's mouth on hers, warm and soft and her heart starts to race at the memory. What's wrong with me? She feels hot beneath her skin and there's a thought beginning to form at the back of her mind, one she cannot go near. She lies in bed and tries to cheer her success, but still that almost-thought lingers, a thought too horrible, so horrible Madge forces it away until she forgets she ever had it.

She is sick, or just giddy over victory.

That's it.

(is has to be)

Madge can still feel the ghost of Gale on her lips when she wakes the next morning and he haunts her every thought as Annie helps her dress, the heat of him burning in her bones. It had been a quick kiss, chaste and warm, but she had felt it straight down to her toes. They curl up in her shoes in remembrance while Annie winds her hair into intricate coils and Madge absently presses her fingers to her lips, the pressure of Gale's mouth still lingering there.

Of course, it's not surprising that he stays with her, after all, this is what she's been working towards for months and months. This is her great triumph, but still, there is something…no. No, all it is, is the thrill of victory. Annie's eyes stay on her as she leaves, but Madge does not feel her gaze, her mind too wrapped up in Gale.

She makes her way to Katniss' chambers, brain buzzing and she is surprised to find Prim is not already there. One thing Prim always manages to beat her in is early rising, for Madge loves her bed far too much to part from it easily. She has never managed to arrive before Prim, but then it was her wedding night last night, Madge remembers with a blush. She banishes the embarrassing thought and eases open the door to Katniss' bedchamber, slipping quietly inside. She stops in the doorway, shocked to see Katniss already awake and gazing out the window at the gray April day.

"Your Majesty," Madge greets and Katniss turns to her slowly, the skin around her eyes dark and heavy as if she hadn't slept at all.

"Our sister won't be joining us," Katniss begins, voice thin and tired, "she has already left with the Duke of Buckingham for a month's holiday."

Madge nods and Katniss sighs.

"After we break our fast, we will be joining Lord Peeta for a walk in the gardens. He is most keen to see them. We will need a dress for that and one for the negotiations to follow," she says and Madge actually frowns at how unhappy she sounds.

"Right away, your Majesty," Madge assures her and carefully chooses her gowns. She selects a deep maroon velvet with gold embroidery for the negotiations and a pretty blue with silver birds for the garden walk. It looks slightly chilly outside, so Madge adds a dove gray cloak to the ensemble. She holds the outfit out for Katniss to see.

"If you would permit me your Majesty, I think it would look lovely with the sapphire earrings you received from the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Peeta's silver brooch."

Katniss nods without even looking.

"We're sure it will. The key for the jewel coffers is in our nightstand, you may use it."

Madge blinks in surprise. Not once, in all her months of service, has Katniss allowed her access to her jewel coffers. I am making progress indeed.

Madge fetches the jewels and helps Katniss into her dress. She begins to brush out her hair and wishes Prim were here, because hair styling is one talent Madge most certainly does not have. She's just decided to leave it long with one lonely braid in the middle when Katniss speaks up.

"We would appreciate if you would join us on our walk, Lady Madge," she says and Madge awkwardly affects a curtsy with her hands full of royal hair.

"I would be honoured your Majesty."

I suppose I am meant to act as a chaperone. Too bad Prim is away, for now I suppose I will have no one at all to talk to. Still, it might be worthwhile to listen in.

The grounds are still wet from last night's rainfall when Madge follows Katniss outside, the plants glistening in the faint sun. Lord Peeta is waiting for them at the entrance to the gardens and Madge cannot help but think of Posy. A pity she could not join us. Then again, she is rather busy with Booties' great pack of kittens.

Madge shakes away the though as they draw nearer and Lord Peeta smiles brightly. He bows to Katniss, hat pressed to his heart while Madge curtsies to him, and she cannot help but notice how his eyes light up when he notices the pin fastening Katniss' cloak.

"Good morning, your Majesty," he greets, sounding somewhat breathless. "May I say again that I am most honoured and humbled that you would choose to give this tour yourself? I know you must be incredibly busy and I appreciate it most sincerely."

Again Madge thinks that anyone else saying such a thing would sound ridiculous, but there is something in the warmth of his voice or the cheer in his tone that makes her want to believe it. What is your secret Lord Peeta? For I think it would come very much in handy.

"It is our pleasure Lord Peeta. We have a great many duties it is true, but our wish is for our two realms to be great friends and allies," Katniss says and Madge is impressed with how regal she sounds.

"That is my hope as well," Peeta agrees, his smile eager and friendly. Katniss manages a nod.

"Forgive my late arrival Majesty."

Madge hears his voice from somewhere behind her and feels her blood instantly heat. She turns with Katniss and Peeta and there is Gale, looking stupidly dashing in dark velvet.

"We thought you might have forgotten us," Katniss says wryly, the strain in her voice fading slightly and in the back of her mind Madge thinks, I suppose Katniss is relieved to have an ally in this meeting with Lord Peeta. In the forefront of her mind all she can think of is Gale and his mouth and stop stop stop!

She comes back to the world to dying laughter and clearly, she has missed something.

"Your Majesty?" Peeta asks and offers Katniss his arm. She hesitates for a moment and then takes it, never once looking at Peeta's genial expression. She must be so nervous, this is her very first negotiation.

"My lady?" Gale asks and Madge feels fire bloom in her cheeks. She peeks at him and he is holding out his arm, a grin teasing his mouth and her stupid stupid heart starts pounding up inside her ears. What is wrong with you? You're acting positively ridiculous. She takes his arm, fingers trembling slightly and she wants to curse herself. I've won! So why does he have every confidence and I feel as if my knees might give out?

Peeta and Katniss lead the way through the garden, the soft murmurings of their voices fluttering back to Madge. She keeps her eyes fixed on them and makes no attempt to engage Gale in conversation, though she knows she should. She is so close, has come so far, so why does she feel the sudden urge to retreat? I cannot give up now. Guilt or illness or whatever this is be damned. Remember Father and Mother and Annie. You have him, you must finish it. That kiss and the pin, "I am yours wholly". That is proof, you've won, do not back down now!

But what if all this is only words?

(faster Gale faster)

(God yes)

Plenty of men lavish pretty words and lovely sentiments on silly girls to get them undressed, a lie to make her believe in love. What if he merely wants me up against a wall or in his bed, what if I have won only his lust?

"Forgive me Lady Madge, if I have done anything to offend you. Perhaps I should not have been so forward yesterday."

Madge is so startled she actually stops walking and stares up at him. He has obviously taken note of her silence, of her strange reluctance to look at him and she is surprised to see she has even put some distance between them as they walk. He must think me distraught over that kiss. He looks thoughtful, pretty eyes downcast and she has the strong urge to reach up and touch his cheek, to trail her fingers over the curve of his jaw and feel the heat of his skin.

"Though I see you are still wearing my pin, so perhaps you are not so upset with me after all," he comments and her hand leaps to the pin fastening her cloak. Her fingers tighten over the cool metal and her tongue feels oddly thick in her mouth. She knows what she should say of course, that she is not upset in the slightest, that she is merely afraid he might think her too forward. She says neither of those things.

(faster Gale faster)

(God yes)

"I find myself merely wondering about your intentions, Lord Gale. I would not be the first girl led astray by pretty words."

Are you trying to offend him? What is wrong with you?

She cannot look at him for fear of his reaction and her emotions feel chaotic and out of sorts. He does not answer right away and she feels oddly cold, as if she has swallowed a lump of ice.

"Lady Madge," he begins, her name in his voice making her spine tingle. "I admit I find myself a little hurt you would accuse me of such things, but then, there are many men out there you would do just that."

She does look up at him now, surprise tickling her heart and those eyes, she thinks deep down where secret thoughts linger, those eyes will be the death of me. He takes her hands and smiles, the ground beneath her feet feeling not quite steady.

"Let me assure you, Lady Madge, that my intentions towards you are entirely honourable."

He comes a little closer and she nods, her heart thudding loudly.

"I know, I did not really doubt it. I am sorry for asking, I hope you do not think less of me."

He grins.

"I could never," he assures her and she finds her fingers squeezing his. "Though perhaps I should hold off on the kisses."

Madge steps a little closer and shakes her head.

"I never said I wanted that," she murmurs, surprised by her own boldness, and Gale laughs, his grin widening.

"Oh, and what do you want Lady Madge?"

They are very close now, too close for propriety and they stare into each other's eyes, a steady heat growing in Madge's stomach. I want-

"Are you two lost back there?" Katniss' voice interrupts and Madge feels her face flame with embarrassment. Katniss's tone is teasing but there's a barely buried edge of panic to her words, as if she is afraid to be left alone with Peeta. Madge steps away from Gale and stares at her feet, but he merely laughs.

"So sorry, your Majesty. We shall try our best to keep up."

"See that you do."

Gale offers her his arm again and Madge takes it, the two of them drawing closer to Peeta and Katniss. Peeta has a great many stories to tell and by Gale's reaction, Madge would say they are downright hilarious, but she hears nary a word. All she can hear is the pounding of her own heart, the roaring of her blood and what in the name of God is wrong with me?

I can't possibly be-of course not. Gale, he's…he's nothing. Nothing. This is nothing.

Nothing at all.

(in fact, Madge is so distracted she even misses the remarkable feat of Peeta managing to win a tiny smile from Katniss)

my intentions towards you are entirely honourable

Those words must mean marriage, mustn't they? He means to marry her, he must. Katniss will give her blessing and Haymitch would not refuse, certainly not if Katniss wanted it, right? This must mean victory and yet, and yet…

I hope you do not think less of me

I could never

(if you knew, if you really knew, I think you could)

Madge walks back to her rooms alone, Katniss, Peeta and Gale headed off to begin their negotiations.

She cannot help but wonder as she walks, why they would not want Haymitch here to help them. Katniss and Gale have never conducted any sort of treaty negotiation before, would it not be more prudent to have someone as experienced as Haymitch by their side? Could they not have delayed his trip to France or delayed Peeta's visit here?

And why did they not want him to know?

Madge stops and stares out the nearest window at the stormclouds starting to gather.

There is something going on here. But what?

(Haymitch knows a great deal is riding on these negotiations, knows he cannot afford to put one foot out of step.

Katniss has finally trusted in him to carry out this most important of tasks and he will not let her down.

He will not let England down)

For over a month, Madge sees almost nothing of Gale and Katniss.

In the morning she helps Katniss dress, at night she helps her ready for bed and in between she sits in her chambers and pretends to embroider. The both of them and Peeta spend nearly every hour sequestered away in their negotiations and Madge wishes she could think of anything else, but she can't.

What are they saying?

How is it going?

And why do they not want Haymitch there?

Madge wishes she could ask Katniss, but she knows she hasn't earned that much of her trust. She doesn't see enough of Gale to ask him, but then, she's not even sure if he would tell her. He may have honourable intentions towards her, but she's not yet sure if he'd be willing to spill state secrets. And she knows she can't risk asking him, for if he did refuse her, who knows what sort of damage that might do to their relationship.

So for just over a month, she waits and worries and wishes she knew what was going on.

At the end of May, the court moves to Eltham Palace in the south east of London and it is beautiful, it truly is.

Madge is kept busy supervising Katniss' things while the Queen and Gale give Lord Peeta the grand tour, taking him all around the palace, the gardens and the tiltyard. Madge wishes she could go with them, wishes she knew how things stood between them and how their negotiations were faring, but instead she stays locked up in Katniss' rooms commanding an army of maids.

She is so very, very far out of the loop it is almost painful.

If only I could ask Gale, she sighs internally as she organizes Katniss' abnormally large collection of gloves. Why does she have so many of these? What could she possibly need them for? The door opens behind her and she turns, wondering if it is a maid from the outer chamber with a question.

"I hope you do not mind the intrusion, Lady Madge," Gale says as he shuts the door behind him and Madge feels her heart beat a little quicker, her face already embarrassingly warm. It is entirely inappropriate for him to be here, alone with her behind closed doors and the correct thing to do would be to say as much and ask him to leave.

"Not at all, Sir Gale," she says and he smiles, her stomach bubbling at the sight. He leans back against the door with folded arms, his eyes moving over her slowly in a way that makes her shiver.

"I fell as if I haven't seen you in ages," he says and Madge nods, setting down a pair of fine white gloves.

"Indeed," she agrees, "I was beginning to think you might have forgotten me." She softens the words with a smile and Gale grins, pushing off the door behind him.

"Of all the people in all the world, you are the one I am least likely to forget," he assures her and she beams, her insides feeling like warm butter.

(because she is winning, of course)

"Do you recall," he asks, "our walk in the garden with Katniss and Peeta?"

Madge nods and steps around the large chest she'd been unpacking, inching just a bit closer to him.

"I do, in fact."

"And do you recall our conversation?"

Gale walks towards her as he talks and she continues closer as well, sparks sizzling beneath her skin.

"I recall you mentioning honourable intentions," she says and they reach each other, Gale taking her hands in his.

"I did," he agrees, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin tingles beneath his fingers.

"And I also recall telling you that I most certainly did not mind your kisses," she whispers, almost breathless and he is very close now, their noses brushing.

"I was hoping you'd remember that," he breathes and then he is kissing her, mouth firm and hot against hers. He releases her hands and moves his to her waist and she finds hers moving to his shoulders, that dreaded illness she seems to have been fighting for ages writhing again inside of her. They spend a moment or a hundred like that, lips pressed to lips and then he pulls back, their foreheads and noses still touching.

"I should go," he murmurs and her eyes flutter open.

"Why? You've only just got here."

He smiles, his fingers tightening pleasantly on her waist.

"I hadn't realized how very tempting you'd be. I do have honourable intentions remember, I don't want you to start thinking I'm trying to lure you into sin."

"How very gallant," she whispers and then reaches up to kiss him again, slow and soft. A frission shoots through her when she feels his tongue slide lightly over her lips, but before she can think much of it he pulls back again.

"I really do have honourable intentions," he assures her and she nods, "I mean to do something about them very soon."

"I'm glad," she says and he presses his forehead to hers.

"I really should go though, if anyone knew I was here it would be your reputation that would suffer. God, you are tempting though…"

He leans in and she thinks for a moment that he will kiss her again, but he stops himself and lets go of her. He bows and kisses her fingertips, heat surging up her arm.

"Good day, Lady Madge," he says and she nods.

"And to you, Sir Gale," she replies, hand pressed against her thumping heart. She watches him leave and fans herself.

I feel as if I have a fever, perhaps I should see the physician.

(Gale makes his way back out to the tiltyard where he'd slipped away from Peeta and Katniss, his entire body hot in a not-exactly-appropriate way. He's sorely, sorely tempted to head straight back to Madge and kiss her breathless, his blood humming with desire. He can still feel her beneath his hands, against his mouth and he'd never known any girl could drive him so crazy, but she does, God, she does.

Honourable intentions, he reminds himself sternly and yes he wants her, wants her to a ludicrous degree, but he remembers those words of hers I would not be the first girl led astray by pretty words. He needs her to be sure he loves her, needs her to know that while he needs her in a very, very physical way, he wants her in every other way too. He loves her (as much as Thom disapproves, and oh does he) and he wants to spends everyday talking with her, walking with her, laughing with her.

He's been lustful before, but those girls always knew it and never wanted anything more. He would never seduce anyone merely to satisfy his own passions, but he cannot be angry at Madge for being concerned. She is right after all, there are plenty of men who say any manner of things just to get under a lady's skirt. He doesn't want her to worry about any of that, does not want to give her any reason to doubt him, so he'll have to do his best to keep a lid on his passions. And really, what's a few more months of waiting? Soon, they'll have forever)

(and really, it's no great sacrifice. After all, (and he'll never say this aloud, because how embarrassing) he's pretty sure he could spend a lifetime just listening to her talk)

Spring flowers bloom as Madge stands out in the courtyard waiting for Darius and Prim's arrival.

The sun is pleasantly warm on her head, a wonderful change from all the rain they'd had and that's when she hears the great clattering of hooves. She looks over at the gates and there are baggage carts, servants and then finally Prim and Darius, their horses trotting in side by side. Madge smiles and as traitorous a thought as it is, she knows she's pleased to see Prim again. Darius dismounts first and his expression is as smiley and handsome as always. He helps Prim down and Madge drops into a curtsy.

"Welcome back my lord Duke, my lady Duchess," she greets and Prim immediately pulls her up into a hug.

"Oh it's so good to see you again!" she says and Madge squeezes her back. Over Prim's shoulder, she can see Darius offer her a short bow.

"Lady Madge. I'll see that all our things are properly settled, you two catch up," he says, leaning in to kiss Prim's cheek. She smiles and they both watch him as he heads inside.

"How was the holiday?" Madge asks and Prim's face turns crimson. She drags Madge over to a bench by a hedge and they sit, Prim's skin still dark and burning.

"It was…the wedding night was just awful," she admits and Madge's eyes go wide. "It hurt, quite a bit actually, but that's supposed to happen I think. Still, I'm so embarrassed, I actually cried! Can you believe it?"

Madge winces in sympathy and squeezes her hand.

"It was not in the least romantic. Just bloody and tearful and mortifying. We didn't speak again for two days."

Madge gapes.

"Really?"

Prim nods mournfully.

"It was wretched."

"But you did…work things out, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" she says, voice high as her skin starts to turn pink. She clears her throat. "I am glad to be back though."

Madge frowns.

"Did you not enjoy any of your time away?"

"Of course I did, of course I did!" Prim hurriedly assures her. "Darius was lovely, really and so was Penshurst. I just missed everyone is all." She smiles. "Now tell me, what's been going while I've been gone?"

"Nothing much really. Katniss, Gale and Lord Peeta spend most of the day shut up negotiating, I rarely see any of them. That's why I'm here without Katniss, she's locked up with the both of them."

"Any clue how it's going?"

Madge shakes her head.

"No, they've remained quite tight lipped."

Prim nods thoughtfully and Madge gets the impression she knows more of Katniss' plan than she's let on. Madge thinks of asking her, but just like with Gale and Katniss, she cannot be entirely sure of her reaction. Unfortunately, this is one risk she cannot afford to take. If only I could be sure.

The sound of boots on gravel makes them both turn their heads and there is Marvel striding purposefully down the path, his body rigid and tense. His eyes find them only briefly, but his look turns positively poisonous, his lips pulled back over his teeth in a snarl. Madge blinks in surprise and he jerks his head around, marching off. What on Earth could have him in so foul a mood?

"Oh dear," Prim says and Madge nods. "I suspect Katniss has finally told him no."

Madge turns to her in confusion.

"No about what?" she asks and Prim bites her lip.

"I'm not supposed to…oh alright, I'll tell you, but don't let anyone know! It's supposed to be a secret."

Madge nods quickly and squeezes Prim's hands.

"Well, it's just that he very much wanted to marry y-," she swallows, "…someone but Katniss favoured another suitor for…that lady. She's been waiting for confirmation from that other man that he was interested before she refused Marvel. She must have got it. I hope he isn't too upset."

Madge nods reflexively, her mind whirring. Katniss has finally put an end to Marvel's hopes. I won't have to marry him and Gale…he's said something to Katniss, he must have.

This is really happening, he really meant it.

I've done it.

That bright flame of victory stays with her all night, drowning out her worries and fears.

I've done it, I've really won. Finally.

(and a little deeper, in a place she will never admit exists, there is something else, something soft and warm and fragile)

Madge laces Katniss into her brown houppelande while Prim picks through her jewel coffers, another long day of negotiations ahead for the Queen. Prim fills their silence and it feels safer like this, Madge with so many thoughts crowding up her mind she cannot imagine what she would say if expected to speak.

"I don't know what it is about Philippa and Rory, but they really do seem to bring out the worst in each other. Separate they are both absolutely lovely people, but together, well they're positively obnoxious. It's tragic really."

Madge nods and smooths down Katniss' skirts. Prim comes around to do her hair and hmmms thoughtfully.

"I really wish we had some turquoise for your hair," she says, "it would look so lovely with the bracelet from the Burgundians. Speaking of, how are things going in that department?"

Madge stiffens, afraid to move, even to breathe, as if any sudden movements will remind Katniss she is here and stop her from telling Prim anything. Katniss inhales and exhales loudly and picks at the embroidery in her skirt.

"It should be settled soon," she murmurs and Prim's eyes light up.

"Lord Peeta is truly willing?"

Katniss nods.

"Yes, he is…most enthusiastic," she says and there's something in her voice, not pleasure or displeasure, but more like surprise, complete and true surprise, like she cannot possible conceive of anyone being enthusiastic about whatever it is she's suggested. Prim beams and Madge feels curiosity burn painfully in her gut. What has she offered? What is it?

And what does it mean for me if Lord Peeta agrees to it?

She does not, as it turns out, have to wait long for an answer.

A handful of days later, Katniss summons all the kingdom's lords and they arrive in droves, each one of them eager to hear what she has to say. It is obvious the treaty negotiations have concluded, the question of course, is their result.

Madge and Prim dress Katniss in her very best, lacing her into a midnight houppelande trimmed in gold and smothered in diamond dust like stars in the sky. It is slashed up the front to show her kirtle, an amethyst one decorated with silver roses outlined in pearls. Prim weaves her hair into a great mound of braids studded with diamonds and they place a crown on top, hanging great dangling silver framed amethysts on her ears. She wears rings on every finger, gem encrusted bracelets on both wrists and the Burgundian cat brooch on her kirtle. They pin a long ermine lined train to her shoulders and Madge cannot help being awe struck at the sight of her. Katniss rarely gives off the impression of enjoying her role as queen, but today at least, the part seems to fit her like a glove.

Madge and Prim carry that train as she walks down to her audience chamber, everyone they pass dropping into deep obeisance. Katniss' expression is both somber and resolute, her shoulders squared and her chin raised. There is no hint of her usual weariness, of her reluctance and Madge knows how much this treaty must mean to her. The lords waiting for her will be eager and willing to tear her down, this woman who presumes to lead them, and today at least, Katniss looks ready to take them all on.

(not that Madge cares, of course)

Katniss dismisses the both of them when they reach their destination and Madge has to bite her lip around a protest. Tell me what's happened! Tell me! she wants to shout, her curiosity boiling up inside of curtsies and forces herself to keep quiet, even as those words beat against her skull. Katniss enters the hall and Madge watches her go with disappointment thick in her stomach.

"Curious?" Prim asks, a knowing smile on her face and Madge flushes. She thinks of denying it but then shrugs.

"Yes, I suppose I am," she admits and Prim laughs. She looks around and then grabs Madge's hand, tugging her into a secluded corner.

"Alright, but this is our secret, understand?"

Madge nods.

"Well, there's some boring trade agreement we've made, apparently we do a lot with Burgundian wool, who knew? There's also some bits about being allies in wartime, but that's not the exciting part," she says and Madge feels her stomach clench. Prim leans in closer, her eyes bright.

"To seal this alliance, Katniss is going to marry Lord Peeta! Can you believe it?" she enthuses and no, I can't believe it.

Madge knows Duchess Elizabeth has been pushing for this, but it seems unreal that it's actually happening. Lord Peeta seems nice but Katniss had seemed so opposed to marriage and children, at least, that's the impression Madge had gotten from their argument. Not that it really matters what she wants, she is a queen, she doesn't have much choice.

And now Peeta of Burgundy will be her consort.

This changes everything.

Madge goes walking with Gale in the gardens soon afterwards, her mind still whirling with Katniss' betrothal. Gale looks over at her and grins.

"I see Prim has spilled the beans then," he says and Madge looks at him in surprise.

"Of course not," she says and he laughs.

"You're not a very good liar, but it's alright, the whole country's got to learn eventually."

Madge nods and he squeezes her hand on his arm, her fingers warm at his touch.

"So what do you think of Lord Peeta and the Queen, will they make a good match?" she asks and Gale thinks, eyes sliding up to the sky.

"Hmm, I suppose so. Peeta seems nice enough and he doesn't seem to mind Katniss having all the power, which is a definite plus. We were both worried any husband she'd get would try to be in charge of everything."

Madge nods slowly, trying to fit this new information into her hazy plans when Gale stops walking. She furrows her brow in question and he smiles.

"Sit," he says, gesturing at the bench before them. She does but he doesn't join her, instead he stands facing her and takes her hands in his.

"You remember last time we were here I mentioned having honourable intentions?"

"Yes," she says and there is something fluttering furiously in her chest. His smile widens.

"Well, I intend to make something of them now. I thought I'd get your opinion first, after all, yours is the opinion that matters most."

Madge doesn't answer, isn't sure she could and he laughs fondly, shaking his head.

"It may seem ridiculous, given our past, but I can't imagine my life without you," he says and Madge gasps a little, her eyes wide. Gale gives her that grin, the adorably endearing one she is certain could melt a solid block of ice and her heart starts to pound somewhere in her throat.

"I love you, Madge," he says sweetly, sincerely and she feels strangely as if she wants to cry, "I don't ever want to be without you. I can think of nothing that would make me happier than if you would agree to spend the rest of our lives together. I'd like to marry you, Madge of Bedford, if you'll have me," he finishes, crooked grin in place and she's certain she's stopped breathing. They stay like for a second or a thousand, silent, unmoving.

And then she starts to cry.

Gale drops down to his knees before her and cups her wet cheeks in his hands.

"I hope those are happy tears," he murmurs and she nods, placing her hands over his.

"Yes," she blubbers, "yes they are and yes I'll have you Gale of Salisbury, forever. I love you too."

He beams, fresh and bright like sunshine, and then he leans up to kiss her. She kisses him back and she is warm and golden and bubbly inside, a spurt of pure joy filling her up.

(but there is another part of her, almost hollow and coated in ashes, that hisses into her bliss,

you are a liar Madge of Bedford, a filthy filthy liar)

(Annie is darning a torn hem when Madge comes into the room, starry eyed and rosy cheeked. She leans back against the door after she's closed it and rests her hands over her heart, a nervous sort of smile on her lips. She sighs, both flustered and dreamy and there is something ice cold in Annie's stomach, its chill sinking into her blood.

"How was your walk?" she asks and Madge straightens with a jump, eyes wide and surprised.

"Oh, Annie, I didn't you see you there. It was…it was…" she bites her lip but there's a smile there, bright and blooming, and Annie feels like puking, "wonderful.")

(curse you Gale of Salisbury)

(curse you to Hell)

Madge doesn't even try to sleep, her heart hammering and her blood singing in her veins.

He asked me to marry him.

He loves me.

I've really, really done it.

All he needs is Haymitch's permission, and then we'll be married.

Something hot starts to bubble inside of her as she imagines it, the wedding, the grand celebration afterwards, the wedding night. She feels herself blush and she hears him god yes in her mind, but for the first time she does not think of the girl he must have been saying it to. She imagines him saying it to her, imagines calloused fingers touching more than just her hands, imagines kisses that are more than chaste and what is wrong with me? She stands from bed and fans herself with her hand, a fever seemingly overtaking her.

What is going on? This is ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous…

"It may seem ridiculous, given our past, but I can't imagine my life without you."

Madge hears those words in her head and feels hot all over again, her heart skipping beats in her chest. She cannot help but imagine a lifetime of lovely words, of him wearing her favor in tournaments, of love letters and lingering glances and pretty children, all those stupid, silly things she fantasized of as a child and stop! Stop, this isn't like that, it isn't it isn't!

She moves to the window in hopes of catching a draft to cool her heated skin and why oh why does she feel like this? It isn't guilt, though she can feel that too, cutting at the edges of her happiness and that happiness must be only triumph, because she's won, hasn't she?

He's nothing, nothing nothing nothing!

Madge squeezes the window ledge and repeats it to herself, tries to brand the words into her skull.

"He's nothing, I don't care, he's the enemy. I don't care, he's nothing to me, nothing at all. He's a Yorkist, the Yorkists are the enemy. He's nothing."

The words sound wrong on her tongue but they have to be true, they have to be. She is a Lancastrian, she will avenge her parents and Annie, Gale of Salisbury means nothing to her at all.

"I love you, Madge, I don't ever want to be without you."

I hate you, she thinks even as hot tears start to burn in her eyes, I hate you. I don't love you, I never will.

I can't.

Haymitch returns from France in June, a storm in his wake.

Madge is breaking her fast with her mother when he barges into his wife's chambers, the both of them jumping as the door crashes back against the wall. Madge's plate of strawberries tumbles down to the floor with a clatter and Haymitch slams the door behind him, the whole chamber shuddering with it.

"My lord, I didn't know you were back," Margaret says, her voice a little uneven and Haymitch's eyes are livid as he tears off his hat and whips it across the room. It hits the wall and slides limply to the ground, Madge's heart thudding painfully in her chest.

"I can't believe this, I cannot believe this!" he thunders, kicking a chest of drawers and sending the vase on top crashing to the floor. Madge flinches and Haymitch begins to pace, his boots stomping down on her rolling strawberries, their red juices spewing out in every direction.

"What is it?" her mother asks and Madge cannot lie, she is terrified.

"Katniss and Gale, the utter fools!" he roars in answer and Madge's eyes go wide.

"What have they done?" her mother asks and he rounds on them, face blotchy with rage.

"They've doomed us all, ruined everything we've worked for, condemned us!"

"Doomed?" Madge whispers quietly and Haymitch tugs furiously at the clasps of his cloak.

"Yes, doomed. This little game they've played with Burgundy will be the end of us. How could they be so stupid?" he demands and then returns to his pacing, Madge feeling sick and nauseous. She looks over at her mother and her expression is grim, Madge's blood running suddenly cold. Haymitch stops again and stares out the window, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Everything we've done, all our hard work, thrown aside because of the stupidity of youth. I cannot fix this," he says, sounding so tired, so sad and Madge wonders if she should be celebrating.

Does this mean I'm winning?

(it certainly doesn't feel like it)

The next day Haymitch decides to take his grievances straight to Katniss and Gale.

Madge knows it is wrong, but she follows behind him, desperate to know what exactly it is they've done, just why Haymitch believes them utterly ruined. She waits just beyond the door when he enters Katniss' chambers, discreetly leaning in to hear their words.

Not, as it turns out, that she needs to.

"Haymitch, welcome ba-"

"What in the name of God were you two thinking?" Haymitch nearly bellows and Madge takes a step back in surprise.

"Excuse me?" Gale demands, a hint of temper shining through. Katniss sighs.

"So you've heard," she says and Haymitch laughs loudly.

"Heard? Oh yes, I've heard. Everyone's heard, France has heard!"

"I knew you'd be upset we didn't tell you, but-"

"You think that's why I'm upset?" Haymitch shouts. "You lied to me, both of you. You did not trust me, nor did you see fit to consult me on this matter-"

"Katniss is queen here," Gale interrupts, "she can make her own decisions."

"Only an idiot believes a monarch needs no advice but their own," Haymitch snaps and Madge can imagine the look of fury on Gale's face.

"Look here-"

"Enough," Katniss says firmly, cutting off Gale's angry retort.

"No, it's not enough," Haymitch spits, "you humiliated me Katniss, you made a laughing stock of me here and in France. Worse, you have shown that the House of York is not united, that we are not strong but divided. You sent me on a fool's errand to France and everyone knows it! Our position is too precarious for stunts like this!"

"You have no right," Gale begins but Haymitch does not allow him to finish.

"I have every right! The Lancastrians are still out there and because of your actions they are now stronger than ever! King Louis is enraged, as he should be. My visit, our negotiations, it was all a farce and he knows it. He does not think you take him seriously and he is insulted. You used him to get me out of the way and he will not forget it. The Lancastrians are hiding in his court, he'd have handed them over to us and we'd have been free of their threat forever. Instead, he is now likely to fund them, to give them ships, troops and legitimacy! Not to mention France has long been the enemy of Burgundy, by siding with them you have all but guaranteed a war! What were you thinking?"

There is no answer for a long moment and Madge presses her hands to her mouth. What are they thinking? Why would they have done all this?

"You are not my master Haymitch, I owe you no explanations," Katniss finally says, her voice hard.

"Indeed," Gale agrees, "we are not children any longer, we can make our own decisions."

"Clearly you can't," Haymitch bites back and Madge inhales sharply. The very air seems to shimmer with anger and then,

"I think it would be best, Lord Haymitch, if you were to see to your properties."

The command in Katniss's voice is clear and Madge hurriedly backs away from the door.

"As you wish, your Majesty," Haymitch says stiffly, "but this is not over. I fear it's only just begun."

"Get out, we have no more need of you here."

Katniss's voice is sharp and Haymitch comes barging out of her chambers, the door nearly catching Madge in the face. She watches him stomp off and I don't understand. What reasons could Gale and Katniss possibly have for what they've done?

And is this really the end as Haymitch thinks? Is York truly about to fall?

Is this nightmare almost over?

Haymitch leaves that very day, whisking her mother off to Baynard's Castle.

Madge is left behind because of her position in Katniss' household and she watches them ride away in quite the fury, clouds of dust kicked up behind them. They'd cleaned out their rooms, made it very clear they were going and not coming back and Madge bites her lip, a yawning sort of chasm opening inside of her.

It is terrible to be on opposite sides with her mother and she hates this, even though deep down she knows she should rejoice as the Yorkists tear themselves apart.

Everything's going just as she wanted and yet not, not at all.

(Marvel knows that he has to leave too, after all, an insult to his father is an insult to him.

He'll go to his manor house of Cold Harbour, still within the city, as a show of solidarity but he'll visit court too, unlike Haymitch who'll probably stay holed up in Baynard's.

He can't be sure which of them will prevail in this battle of wills, but Marvel won't be on the losing side. He'll keep a foot in both camps until a winner is clear.

Queen or father, it doesn't matter who wins, as long as he's standing beside them when they do)

Madge seeks Gale out as soon as she can and he is clearly still agitated, an angry flush creeping up his neck. He wilts when he sees her and sighs.

"I suppose you've seen Haymitch?" he asks and she nods. He sighs again and takes her hand.

"Come on," he says and pulls her into a deserted hallway. She bites her lip.

"What's going on?" she asks and Gale leans back against the wall, running a hand through his hair.

"Haymitch thinks he knows best, that's what going on," he mumbles and Madge frowns.

"Does he?"

Gale looks at her sharply for a moment before the anger fades. He sighs and runs another hand through his hair.

"Contrary to his beliefs, Katniss and I are not complete fools. We knew there would be consequences to our actions, we simply believe the pros outweigh the cons."

"And what are those pros?"

"Look, Haymitch has been pushing for an alliance with France from the beginning, but there's no point in that. How many alliances have me made with France? How often have they lasted? Katniss and I, we thought it'd be more prudent to ally with Burgundy as they don't have a history of stabbing us in the back. Furthermore, when we inevitably find ourselves at war with France again, we now have an ally in magnificent strategic position. This alliance might well deter France from even beginning hostilities, knowing we are allied with their neighbour."

"And the Lancastrians?" she asks and Gale frowns.

"That's unfortunate, but we've beat them before. If they come back, even supported by the French, Katniss will defeat them again."

Madge sucks in her bottom lip and he makes good points, but then, so did Haymitch. And yes, they've beaten the Lancastrians before, but it does seem somewhat arrogant not to be concerned about another invasion.

"And what of you and Haymitch?" she asks and Gale places his hands on her shoulders.

"Fear not Madge, Haymitch is like a second father to Katniss and me, he'll come around. He's upset we did this without him, but Katniss is queen, he will have to accept that he cannot control her every decision. You needn't worry," he assures her, "the House of York will not fall, this will soon be resolved."

Madge nods even though she is not sure she is convinced and allows him to pull her against his chest.

"It's going to be alright," he murmurs and Madge nods, her hands fisted in the back of his doublet.

Why do I not believe that?

Haymitch's fight with Katniss and Gale is on every pair of lips by the next day, whispers and rumors ripe in every hallway.

Madge knows she should be rejoicing in this, but for some reason she cannot. She goes about her duties with a lump in her chest, a heavy weight she can't seem to dislodge. She thinks over Gale's words, Haymitch's and she cannot decide who to believe.

Is Haymitch merely afraid of losing control? Or are Gale and Katniss allowing their youthful folly to cloud their judgement? Are they so determined to control their own lives they are refusing to listen to reason? Or is Haymitch underestimating them?

I don't know.

And I think I'm afraid to find out.

(Margaret tries to talk to him, tries to calm him but he can't be calmed, the maelstrom in his chest far too great for anyone to tame.

Haymitch can't understand it, cannot even begin to grasp what's gone on. All he has done, everything, has been to help them and they have rejected him, humiliated him, cast him aside.

That is bad enough, but this situation with the French is a complete disaster. No, he never would have agreed to an alliance with Burgundy, but to send him to France, to authorize him to negotiate a marriage for her all while having no intention of going through with it, planning instead to ally with some of King Louis' greatest enemies, it is inconceivable. To infuriate the French king so, to humiliate him like that, it is undeniable provocation.

Are she and Gale insane? Do they want a war with France and Lancaster?

How could they done this?)

(how could they done this to me?)

"What do you think of Glimmer Mowbray?" Prim asks as she and Madge sit embroidering in the Queen's chambers. Katniss is away with Gale and Peeta, leaving the two of them alone and Madge frowns.

"I don't know her very well," she says, not wanting to mention that she isn't very fond of what she does know, "why?"

"I was just wondering. If she's going to marry Marvel, we're probably going to have to spend quite a bit of time with her. I'm just hoping she's nice."

Madge blinks in shock.

"She's marrying Marvel?"

Prim's mouth opens in surprise.

"You didn't know?" she asks, looking embarrassed when Madge shakes her head.

"I'm sure he meant to tell you, he's probably just so excited he forgot," Prim tries and Madge smiles.

"I'm sure."

Of course, she knows that isn't true at all. Marvel has not spoken to her, not even looked at her, since Katniss rejected his proposal. She can't be sure if he's angry with her for Katniss' ruling, or just sees no purpose in speaking with her now that he can't marry her, but either way, he has ignored her entirely since Katniss' decision.

It is not exactly unwelcome.

But Glimmer Mowbray…It is a good match, she is the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk and set to inherit from him, Marvel will make out quite well. Most would consider it a wonderful marriage and Madge is sure Duchess Elizabeth will be pleased.

Marvel on the other hand, well after shooting so high, he might see even this as a disappointment.

(She doesn't know it, but Marvel is still aiming high)

(so very, very high)

Madge sorts through Katniss' gowns, examining any for defects, when there comes a knock at the door. She smiles and wonders if it is Gale for another moment of stolen kisses.

"Come in," she calls and her smile drops when Peeta steps inside.

"Lord Peeta," she says in surprise, scrambling into a curtsy.

"Oh, hello, Lady…um…"

"Lady Madge," she supplies.

"Yes, of course. Forgive me Lady Madge and please, stand up."

She does and then watches him as he fidgets nervously. He notices her gaze and smiles a bit in embarrassment.

"Excuse me, I was hoping to come across the Duchess of Buckingham. But then…perhaps you could help me?"

"I would be delighted to be of service, my lord," she tells him, inclining her head. He smiles, fully this time, and it is a very nice smile, like warm honey.

"You are part of Katn-the Queen's household, would you by chance know her taste in jewellery?" he asks, fidgeting again and she feels her eyebrows go up.

"Have you a gift in mind?" she asks and he nods, opening his hand to show her a ring. It is a great big emerald set in a golden band and Madge cannot help but exhale in appreciation.

"It is beautiful, my lord."

"It's a betrothal ring, for Ka-the Queen. I designed it myself, hence my worry. She mentioned once that green was her favourite colour so I thought an emerald would be good. And then I thought to add some orange, which is my favourite colour, but that would look a little odd, wouldn't it? I chose gold instead, I hoped that'd be close enough. What do you think?"

Madge blinks at him in surprise. How very sweet.

"It is wonderful, my lord. I am sure the Queen will love it and the thought behind it."

Peeta smiles at her and she cannot help but smile back.

"Thank you, Lady Madge, I appreciate your help."

Madge nods.

"My pleasure and may I say, congratulations on your betrothal, your Grace," she adds and he bites his lip around a silly, great smile.

"Thank you. It is quite unexpected, my parents certainly never thought I'd amount to anything, being the third son and all."

"And now look, you are to be a king," she points out and Peeta grins but then shrugs.

"Oh I don't know about that, it's Katniss' kingdom. I don't want to step on any toes, only help where she needs."

He says it sincerely and Madge stares at him. Either you are too good to be true, Peeta of Burgundy, or you a magnificent liar.

"Peeta?"

They both turn and Katniss is standing in the doorway, looking shocked to see him. Madge curtsies and Peeta bows.

"Your Majesty, I was hoping you might join me for a walk in the garden," he says and Katniss' eyes widen. She looks over at Madge who nods in encouragement. Katniss clears her throat.

"I suppose I have time for a short walk," she says and Peeta beams. He offers her his arm.

"Wonderful."

Katniss takes the arm and they set out, Madge watching them go. She cannot help but wonder if this arranged marriage may turn out to be a happy one and as much as she doesn't want to admit it, she very much hopes it does.

(traitor)

Eltham in July is warm and golden, the flowers fragrant and the sun shining above.

A great tournament is to be held to celebrate the royal engagement and Madge watches all the preparations with a sense of awe, a twinge of excitement in her gut. She has never been to a tournament and she cannot help being entranced by the spectacle of it all. Labourers crawl all over the tiltyard to ensure it's ready while lords and knights from all over the kingdom arrive, joined by their counterparts from Burgundy. Each one is splendidly attired, squires and pages trailing after them bearing their heraldic arms, each one more intricate than the last. There is an enthusiasm all throughout the palace, touching each and every one of them and Madge feels it too, a happy balm to all her worries.

Annie helps her dress the morning of, lacing her into a yellow kirtle and then a pretty light blue houppelande patterned with gold. She ties many a ribbon in her hair, hooks a thin gold chain around her neck and Madge makes sure to bring an extra scarf or two just in case any handsome knight asks to wear her favour.

(of course, there's only one she actually wants to ask)

She makes her way to Katniss' chambers then and Prim is already there, dressed in pink and silver. As a married woman her hair is bound up beneath a conical hennin, its floaty veils fluttering down her back. She beams as Madge enters, her face bright with excitement, and they quickly begin readying Katniss for the day, Madge dabbing her with rosewater and Prim smoothing gold dust over her skin. She glitters as they lace her into a crimson houppelande over a dark, dark purple kirtle and then tie pretty red and yellow ribbons into her freshly washed hair, which seems to shine in the sunlight. They drape her in all the jewels gifted her by the Burgundians, including the fat betrothal ring from Peeta, and then comes the final touch, Prim gently placing a golden crown studded with precious gems on her head.

She stands, looking every inch a Queen and Prim sighs.

"Oh Katniss, you look magnificent."

Katniss smiles tightly and Madge hands her a gold embroidered handkerchief to bring as a favour, one small thought niggling at the back of her mind.

Katniss, who once led men into battle, I wonder if she'd rather be participating in this tournament than presiding over it.

They make their way down to the yard where Lord Peeta is waiting to escort Katniss to the stands. He is dressed in crimson silk to match Katniss' gown, a silver circlet in his hair. He smiles as they approach, his eyes lighting up, and Madge is not even sure he notices her or Prim, his gaze entirely for Katniss.

"Your Majesty," he greets, sweeping into a bow and Madge has to commend him, for she doubts many men would be so gracious when their fiancée so outrageously outranks them. Katniss nods to him and he holds out his arm, his smile making Madge think of summer and sunshine. Katniss takes it with light fingers and then they walk out in the daylight, Madge and Prim trailing behind them. Great wooden stands have been erected on either side of the tournament field and banners and pennants hang from every surface, the ones on the right covered in cats, white roses and Saint George's cross, while those on the left bear the arms of Burgundy. Garlands of flowers are draped around the stands as well, helping to offset the smell of horses and Madge is enchanted, truly. Peeta and Katniss lead them up to the royal viewing platform, covered over with a silk awning to guard from the sun. They both sit in finely crafted thrones while Prim and Madge sit on cushioned benches to Katniss' right.

"I've never seen a tournament before," Prim whispers to Madge, a hint of an excited squeal leaking through.

"Me neither," she confides and they share a grin.

"Your Majesty," a voice says from Madge's right and she turns to see Glimmer Mowbray dropping into a curtsy. Her future step-sister-in-law is tall and willowy, with delicate features, ample bosom, amber eyes and flowing silver-blonde hair. She is beautiful certainly, without question, but there is something about the set of her rose pink lips and the way she looks down her thin nose that has always rubbed Madge the wrong way.

(well, that and her frequent temper tantrums)

"Lady Glimmer," Katniss greets, somewhat bemused and Glimmer straightens up, diamonds sparkling around her slender neck. She moves towards their bench, shoots Madge an annoyed look and then sits in a rustle of emerald silk.

(she can only assume the look is because Glimmer believes she ought to sit closer to the royal person than Madge)

Madge blinks and then turns to Prim. They share a look, because how unbelievably presumptuous of Glimmer to invite herself to the royal booth, especially considering the current climate of family relations. Well, she at least matches Marvel in her sense of self-importance. Katniss, unlike many royals, says nothing.

The stands begin to fill up with brightly dressed lords and ladies, the tournament's beginning inching ever closer. Madge watches as the Salisbury family (minus Gale) files in just below them and she knows better than to look for Haymitch or her mother. They're both still at Baynard's Castle and the entire court is abuzz with gossip. Haymitch's refusal to come is an obvious slight and everyone waits with bated breath to see how Katniss will react, the dissention between the chief Yorkists giving birth to all sorts of scurrilous whispers.

(and Madge, oddly, is nowhere near as pleased as she should be)

A horn bleats and then out come the men on their horses, done up in their armour with their helmets tucked beneath their arms. Each one of them shines and a thrilled hush falls over the crowd. The knights each make their way over to the stands to beg a favour from their preferred lady and Madge can feel something tight curl in her stomach.

"Oh there's Darius, doesn't he look handsome?" Prim swoons and Madge follows her line of sight. Darius is riding over to them with a wide grin, his orange hair looking almost aflame in the bright sun. He bows before them and doesn't even get a chance to ask for Prim's favour before she's already jumped up and rushed to the edge of the platform, a collection of ribbons in hand.

"I hope those are for me," he teases and Prim turns pink.

"Oh hush, who else would I give them to? I brought a bunch in case you lose one, after all, you'll be doing rather strenuous work."

He laughs just as Marvel arrives to ask for Glimmer's favour.

"My most beloved Lady Glimmer, may I have the great honour of bearing your favour into battle?" he asks loudly for all to hear and Madge barely stops her eyes from rolling.

"Of course, my dear great Earl," she replies and hands him a glove that he pins onto his armour. He dons his very plumed helmet and bows to her, fist pressed to his heart. Glimmer curtsies with great flourish and then comes the Duke of Burgundy's middle son, Lord Philip. He looks taller than Peeta, his hair a shade or two darker and his face thinner. He bows deeply before Katniss, his armor so bright it is nearly blinding, and she presents him with her handkerchief, as he will be fighting as Burgundy's champion in Peeta's honour.

Prim takes her seat and waves Darius off, her cheeks very pink, before she elbows Madge in the side. Madge frowns at her but Prim merely grins and points. Madge follows her finger and feels her heart do something silly, for there is Gale looking like he's stepped straight out of a chivalric romance. He inclines his head.

"Lady Madge, would you do me the honour of granting me your favour?"

Madge smoothes out the scarf she'd brought in her lap.

"Of course, Sir Gale. It is my honour to see my favour worn by England's gallant champion."

Gale smiles and holds up his arm. Madge stands and walks to the edge of the platform, aware of all the eyes watching her. While Lord Philip will fight as Burgundy's champion, Gale will represent England and so whose favour he wears throughout the tournament is of much interest to all. She can feel her face growing hot as she ties her scarf around his arm and he winks, her stomach flipping over itself.

"I wish you good luck Sir Gale," she says and he bows his head again.

"I shall endeavour to be worthy of your favour, my good lady," he says and she watches him trot off to join the rest of the men. She returns to her seat and Glimmer's expression has gone sour, her arms folded across her chest. On a guess, Madge would say it is because she is upset England's champion did not ask for her favour.

(ignoring, of course, that she has a fiancé)

Madge ignores her and then there comes more horn blasts, signifying, finally, that the tournament is about to begin. The men and their attendants clear away, the first event being the individual jousts. The plan, whenever possible, is to pit a Burgundian against an English man and everyone waits with bated breath as a herald steps into the middle of the field and puffs up his chest.

"In the first match, Sir Thom Oakfield, Baron Holand and Baron Lovell facing Sir Robert de Poche!" he announces and the people cheer, their voices rising in a great roar. Thom and Sir Robert arrange themselves at either end of the jousting lane and their squires rush about, handing them their lances and hurriedly checking their and their horses' armour. Both of them finally assume position and lower their lances, the whole crowd leaning forward in anticipation. The signal is given and they both go charging forward, their horses' hooves beating into the dirt. They meet in a terrible clang of metal and Madge flinches. Neither one falls and they both turn at the end of the field, ready for another pass.

"Come on, Thom!" Prim yells and they collide again, their lances splintering, but both still managing to stay seated. Their squires quickly hand them new lances and they ready for the final attempt, both itching to give their country the first victory of the day. The whole of Eltham seems to hold its breath as they go thundering towards each other and this time Thom's lance strikes true. Sir Robert is unseated and sent crashing to the ground, his helmet rolling off as he hits the dirt. The stands explode with noise and Prim throws her hands up in the air in celebration, her voice joining the chorus of cheers all around. Madge leans forward in concern as Sir Robert's squires help him up and the screaming fans are nearly deafening, their excitement bright and pulsing. Thom lifts his visor and waves to the crowd, his smile wide, before the herald steps out to announce another pair.

The jousts continue all morning, Darius tying in his match while Marvel and Philippa's brother the Earl of Lincoln bring home victory. The results are fairly even between the two nations and everyone buzzes with excitement as the final match arrives, the herald having to wait several minutes for the spectators to quiet.

"In the final match, Sir Gale Hawthorne, Lord High Constable of England, Earl of Salisbury, Knight of the Garter and Champion of England against Lord Philip of Burgundy, Knight of the Golden Fleece and Champion of Burgundy!"

The stands erupt, clapping, stamping their feet and screaming. Madge clasps her hands as they ready themselves, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Both Gale and Lord Phillip look magnificent as they take position, each one in shining armor atop a noble steed.

And then they're off, Madge's heart stopping in her chest.

They crash into each other, Gale's lance splintering to pieces and his shield thrown off while Lord Philip's whole body snaps backwards in his saddle. Madge covers her eyes and everyone holds their breath, but he manages to stay on, the stands groaning as one. Madge lowers her hands and both knights ride off to meet their squires. Gale is given a new shield and lance, Lord Philip shakes his head like a dog and then they are back at it, their horses charging down the field towards each other.

You can do it Gale, you can do it

Gale's strike is perfect, Lord Philip catching his lance full in the chest. He is launched from his horse and slams down on his back in the dirt, Peeta half standing in concern. The crowd explodes as never before, shrieking and shouting, and even Katniss gets in on the action, spinning Peeta's hat above her head in triumph. Lord Philip is helped to his feet and Gale lifts up his visor to wave at them, white roses and ladies' favours thrown down at his feet. He smiles, her scarf around his arm and Madge feels something odd come over her, something dangerous.

(England's champion and there's a part of her, smothered under denial, that wishes he were her champion, only hers)

There is a break before the next event, for the men to rest and have refreshments, so Prim and Madge make their way down to the Salisbury clan. Philippa waves them over and they squeeze in beside her.

"Did you see John? Wasn't he amazing?" she asks, smile proud as she speaks of her brother and Madge nods.

"Oh yes," Prim agrees, "he was wonderful."

"Darius was very good too," Philippa says, "I don't know how his opponent managed to stay on that horse."

"I just hope he isn't too disappointed," Prim sighs and Philippa squeezes her hand.

"Oh I'm sure he won't be, he has you as a prize doesn't he?" she teases and Prim turns red. "Speaking of, do you see that Burgundian over there? With the black hair? Yes, well he asked for my favour, can you believe it? I had to turn him down of course; I'd already given it to John, but still of all the ladies here, he wanted my favour."

"Does Rory know?" Prim asks and Philippa rolls her eyes.

"How would he? He's been so busy all morning being Gale's squire he hasn't said a single word to me. He's upset with me anyways, because you know, he very much wanted to compete today and I told him he hadn't a chance. I didn't mean it to be rude, it's only that he's thirteen and everyone else is a good deal older. He took it wrong though and hasn't spoken to me since. So no, he doesn't know and I doubt he'd care even if he did."

As if summoned by his name, Rory appears out of the crowd, his whole face lit up with enthusiasm. Madge is the first to notice him and she smiles in greeting but he doesn't seem to notice, making a beeline straight for Vick.

"Look at this!" he crows, holding out half a broken lance and Vick's eyes go very wide. "Lord Philip gave it to me."

Vick leans very far forward and Petronella grabs him by the doublet as if afraid he'll lean right out of the stands.

"That's incredible," he sighs in envy and Madge exchanges a confused look with Prim. What exactly, is so exciting about a broken lance? Madge has no idea, but then, she isn't a boy.

"Here, you have it," Rory says and Vick's mouth actually drops open.

"Really?"

Rory nods and Vick takes it with shaking hands, as if it is something unfathomably precious. Rory grins as Vick hugs it to his chest.

"This is amazing," he breathes, "thanks Rory!"

Rory shrugs.

"Don't worry about it. Next time I'll compete and you can be my squire," he boasts and Vick nods eagerly. Philippa stares at Rory, clearly awaiting some kind of acknowledgement and Prim sends Madge an exasperated look. Clearly fed up, Prim steps purposefully on Philippa's foot, giving her a very pointed look when she turns around to glare. Philippa frowns but then sighs.

"My lord," she says in a tone that suggests she thinks it's ridiculous she has to call him that, "allow me to commend you on your excellent showing as Sir Gale's squire. I doubt the Earl would have done anywhere near as well without your service."

Madge thinks that might be a bit overboard and Rory clearly agrees, turning to look at her with a confused expression.

"I cannot wait until the next tournament, as I am sure you will be an outstanding competitor," she continues and Rory rolls his eyes.

"You could always just apologize instead of whatever this is supposed to be," he says and Philippa scowls.

"I've nothing to apologize for. And sorry for trying to give you a compliment," she huffs and Petronella leans over to whisper in Vick's ear.

"Why are they always fighting?" she asks and Vick shakes his head.

"Because they're weird," he whispers back and Petronella nods in agreement.

"Right," Rory says sceptically, "thanks then. I'm so glad I have your support."

Philippa opens her mouth but Prim elbows her and then hurriedly speaks before she can.

"Me too Rory, I'm sure you'll be excellent."

"Oh yes," Madge says after an insistent look from Prim, "I have full confidence in you."

Rory grins.

"Thank you, ladies; I'll try my best to live up to your expectations."

"Well of course you'll be good, you practise all the time and you have great form, I only meant you'd lose because you're younger than everyone else, not because I think you're awful," Philippa butts in and then looks embarrassed at having given him an actual compliment. Rory is also caught off guard and he blinks at her several times, unsure what to say.

"Oh," he finally manages, "I'm...sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"No," Philippa agrees, not looking at him, "you shouldn't have."

Neither one of them says anything else and the awkwardness of their silence is almost painful. Thankfully the horns start blaring, indicating a recommencing of the festivities and Rory leaps at the chance to scramble off. Philippa slumps in her seat.

"That was awful; I think I liked it better when he wasn't speaking to me."

Prim glares and swats her shoulder.

"You're so frustrating; I can't understand your determination to be miserable."

Another horn blast interrupts any response of Philippa's and Madge and Prim return to their seats for the afternoon's grand event. It is the main component of the tournament and the one everyone is most excited to see. The melee. The English knights led by Gale will fight against the Burgundians led by Lord Philip in one great battle to prove their superiority and when it's done, Katniss will hand out prizes to whichever knights prove themselves to be the most valuable.

The two sides step out on either end of the field and people scream out the names of their favourites, each knight rocking on their heels and raring to go. Prim squeezes Madge's hand as the signal to begin is given, the two sides rushing to meet each other. It is only a mock battle of course, but Madge still finds it hard to watch, her father's bloody death creeping into her mind. It is chaotic and crowded, Madge unable to pick out any individuals as they clash but she cheers whenever Prim does just to seem as if she knows what's going on.

The battle lasts all afternoon and she wonders if they'll have to call it off and start again tomorrow lest they lose the light when the stands around her begin to roar in approval. Madge focuses back down on the field and sees that most of the men seem to have given up, only two figures still circling each other. She recognizes Gale immediately by her scarf and assumes his opponent must be Lord Philip. The crowd cheers them on, though more for Gale than for Philip, and Madge finds herself getting sucked in as well.

"Come on, come on," she whispers as Gale catches Lord Philip's sword with his and then pushes hard, managing to unbalance his opponent. Philip stumbles and Gale presses his advantage, the clang clang of their swords ringing in her ears. Lord Philip, clearly exhausted, makes one last desperate swing but Gale ducks beneath it and shoulders him in the chest, sending him down to the ground. He holds his sword just before Philip's throat and the English knights; followed by the crowd, leap to their feet to acclaim his triumph. Madge is standing too, clapping and shouting until her voice is raw but the thrill of it all is contagious, sweeping her up in this tide of pride and joy. Gale drops his sword and offers Lord Philip a hand, pulling him up to stand beside him. Together they wave and bow to the masses, flowers and favours showering down on them. Katniss stands while a servant brings out the prizes but Madge only has eyes for Gale.

He is rewarded with the grandest of the prizes, a crown of laurels for his head, a fancy new sword and a bag of coins. He accepts them with a grin and then turns back to the crowd to bask in their adulation and though Madge is meant to hate him and all these Yorkists, if you asked right now if she did, she'd be unable to say yes.

(not that she'd admit that of course)

A little over a week later, Marvel and Glimmer marry in Cold Harbour's private chapel.

Marvel makes certain everything is done up in grand style for his nuptials, including a mass of jewel encrusted peacock figurines that crowd up the halls and every surface. The whole house is filled to the brim with white roses, Marvel's arms and those of the Duke of Norfolk are everywhere and in the supper hall are peacock ice sculptures and, most over the top of all, a wine fountain.

Madge herself is granted leave by Katniss to attend and though she is glad to see her mother again, the awkwardness of the atmosphere is something she could do without. Marvel and Glimmer have been sure to invite all the great and grand of England, and many have come, but those who haven't are the main talking point of the event, even more so than the wedding happening before them.

Katniss does not come and just as Haymitch staying away from the tournament was a clear insult, so is this. Prim and Darius are absent as well and so are many others, clearly unwilling to look as if they are favouring Haymitch in this quarrel. Vile rumours and vicious whispers stalk the entire ceremony, speculation rife as to what is to come next in this ongoing saga. Will Haymitch lose all favour? Will the Queen cave to his demands? And what of the rest of the Yorkists, which side will they choose? Is the Queen in the right? Haymitch? Will this rift ever heal? Battle lines have been drawn and Madge know she should rejoice in this fracturing of the Yorkists, but instead all she feels is uneasy.

Which side am I meant to choose?

Do I even get a choice?

The biggest talking point of all though, is that the Salisbury family all attends, Gale at the head. Madge herself is caught off guard, after all, Gale is not only Katniss' staunchest ally, but Haymicth is as angry at him as he is Katniss. The assembled guests ignore Marvel and Glimmer as they say their vows, all too busy trying to decipher Gale's appearance and Madge cannot help but fall into the same trap.

What is he doing here?

What does this mean?

The food served after the wedding is both scrumptious and excessive. There are platters upon platters of tarts, pastries, sugared fruits, crepes and honey drenched bread; great bowls of custard and pudding; savoury meats smothered in fragrant sauces and five large roasted peacocks with their feathers glittering. The wine fountain flows while servers hand out mead and ale and a magnificent assortment of aged cheeses. It's a truly outstanding show of wealth, but entirely unnecessary. She doubts there's anyone in the kingdom that doesn't know Marvel is one of its richest inhabitants, but still he persists, presenting them all with a perfect replica of Cold Harbour made of marchpane.

Madge eats little, too occupied with thoughts and observations, while Marvel parades Glimmer around the room, boasting loudly of her beauty and charms. He smiles at everyone, shakes their hands and puts on the perfect appearance of the blissful bridegroom (until he reaches Madge of course, whom he deliberately snubs), but Haymitch stays knotted in a corner with a group of well dressed men, their words hushed and their expressions drawn. It's rude to stare but Madge does so anyway, wishing desperately that she could hear what's being said. Who are they? What do they want?

"A word, Lady Madge?"

She turns and there is Gale, solemn but still impossibly handsome.

"I'm surprised you're here," she says quietly, not wanting to inflame the gossips anymore than they already are. Gale sighs heavily.

"I didn't want to be, but my mother did and she's quite cross over this whole affair, you know. I wasn't going to come with her, but then I realised I might use this opportunity to my advantage."

Madge furrows her brow.

"Are you going to try and make up?"

Gale frowns, his eyebrows drawing into a perfect V.

"No, he's the one that ought to be making amends. But I thought I might ask his permission for your hand."

Madge inhales sharply and Gale takes her hand, his fingers sliding through hers.

"That is, unless you've changed your mind," he says softly and Madge shakes her head.

"Never," she whispers and Gale smiles, sweet and warm. Madge feels her chest tighten. He takes a step forward but then seems to remember they're in public and steps back instead. He clears his throat.

"I'm hoping today's happy occasion might soften him and anyways, even with our quarrel, there's no real reason for him to refuse. He's upset with me certainly, but I've done nothing so awful as to make me an unsuitable husband."

Madge nods and squeezes his hand before releasing it. She curtsies with all due respect, as if this was nothing more than your average formal chat and Gale follows suit, bowing low. He kisses her fingertips, his breath soft on her skin.

"Wish me luck," he murmurs and "Good luck," she breathes. She watches him head over to Haymitch and that group of men crowded around him disperses immediately at Gale's approach, some wary while others smile and nod with perfect grace.

What are they up to?

Haymitch's face remains neutral throughout Gale's petition, but his answer is clear even from across the room. One short, sharp word that makes Gale stiffen and wraps around Madge's heart like a fist.

No.

Haymitch's expression never changes as he says something else to Gale and then leaves, sweeping her mother up into a dance. Gale's hands clench and Madge feels as if the ground beneath her feet has simply disappeared.

How is this possible?

He said no.

No.

He won't let me marry Gale.

Her every plan is thwarted but worse, worse is the painful feeling below her ribs, as if someone has stuck a knife straight through her. She does not bother to think about it, to ponder what it means, she simply feels it, sharp and sad and devastating.

He said no.

Madge is meant to be embroidering but all she can think about is Haymitch's refusal, the cold weight of it seeping into her bones.

How could he say no?

She is angry, furious even, that he would deny them this. It is her life, not his, and she wants to marry Gale. How dare he, she wants to shout, her fingers shaking. This isn't fair, it isn't right.

Annie's whisper cuts through her haze of anger, her voice like a knife in the silence of Madge's chamber.

"There is discontent in the streets," she says and Madge looks over at her in surprise. "People, rich and poor, are not pleased with some of Queen Katniss' decisions. She is too aloof, she is a woman, she is making a foreigner king and she rewards only her family members, leaving most of the aristocracy out in the cold. Not to mention the disaster with the French. The people do not trust her."

Madge wants to deny it, but then…was this not what Haymitch had been warning about from the start? She insults the nobles by refusing to have their wives, daughters and sisters as ladies-in-waiting; she arranges incredibly lucrative marriages for her relatives, leaving everyone else to scramble; she ventures only rarely out into public and her foreign policy has infuriated the French and left the Lancastrians stronger than ever.

Perhaps people are right to be upset.

"No ruler is universally beloved. I am sure this discontent will pass," Madge says firmly and then smiles over at Annie. Annie looks down at her embroidery without a word.

Madge feels her smile drop.

The royal wedding happens on a stiflingly hot August day, the air muggy and humid.

Madge wakes up and she is already sticky with sweat, not a single breath of wind flittering through her window. Annie helps her dress in silence and Madge tells herself it is only because it is far too hot to muster the effort to talk.

(what else could it be?)

She heads over to Katniss' chambers and her dress feels too heavy, the fabric clinging to her heated skin. Everyone she passes looks sluggish and she can feel it too, the oppressive temperature leeching away any and all motivation she has. The same does not appear true for Prim, who babbles on excitedly as she brushes out Katniss' hair, her short hennin glittering with gold thread. Madge readies Katniss' gown while Prim winds pearl strings through her dark hair, her skin already sweet smelling with rose water and sparkling faintly with diamond dust. Her expression is tense, not a hint of joy to be found and what a somber bride she makes.

"Oh, you have so much to look forward to Katniss, being married is just wonderful," Prim gushes but Katniss does not react, her face still drawn tight. Does she not want to marry Peeta? Or perhaps she does not wish to marry at all. She stands and they lace her into a silver kirtle, the material heavy with costly jewels. There are cats made of golden thread with twinkling emerald eyes and ruby studded collars as well as white roses outlined in pearls. Over top goes her houppelande, slashed up the front so her kirtle can show. The gown is gold silk and covered over in diamond stars with pearl edging along the hem. The cuffs and collar are velvet while her girdle is a deep red and patterned with golden crowns. They hang diamonds framed in silver suns on her ears and then a fine diamond necklace to match. On her head goes a simple tiara of gold and garnets, and they leave her hands clear of rings except for Peeta's betrothal ring. Personally, Madge thinks the whole look might be a little much, though its opulence certainly cannot be denied.

"You look beautiful," Prim trills and Katniss merely nods. She leads them down to the chapel, every hall cleaned intensely and dripping in flowered garlands, and this is it. The chapel doors are opened and Madge and Prim carry Katniss' great long train, Peeta waiting up front in gem encrusted royal blue. He stares at Katniss the entire time, entirely enchanted, and Madge tries not to think of the wedding denied her.

This is no time to be bitter, she lectures herself, but still, there is an ache in her, one she cannot be rid of. She does not look at Gale as they make their way to Peeta, knows it would be far too painful a thing to do. She must have hope that Haymitch will change his mind. Soon, he will reconcile with Gale and happily give us his blessing.

Soon, we shall marry.

(and if that thought makes her happier than it should, well, she'll never tell)

The feasting and celebrating that follows is magnificent, though it leaves a rather sour taste in Madge's mouth.

Every time Gale attempts to ask her to dance, Marvel manages to swoop in and drag her away. He has finally given up avoiding her, though only it seems, to thrwart her. She can see the frustration rising on Gale's face and there is a sore on her heart growing ever larger, alongside a virulent sort of anger.

So that is their game is it?

Deny him and then force us apart, why? In hopes he will abandon his petition?

He would never.

He loves me. He will not abandon me.

I know he won't.

The wedding does not go over particularly well with the people, as it turns out.

They are not pleased to have a foreign king, especially one that has made them an enemy of France. It does not matter what Peeta is personally like, nor what an alliance with him will give them. A foreigner on their throne, the fear of alien occupation makes them sick, terrified and they whisper it to each other, bubbling over with unhappiness.

(worst of all, is that the Lancastrian remnants hear these whispers and see their opportunity. They will fan these embers into a flame and when they do, there will be only one possible outcome for England)

(war)

The court returns to Westminster in September, without either Marvel or Haymitch. They return to their properties in the countryside and Madge cannot help but be uneasy. Many other nobles leave London as well, all with perfectly reasonable explanations, but Madge cannot shake her wariness.

She tries to find joy in the fact that her mother has remained behind at Baynard's but the situation in England is becoming more volatile by the day. This exodus of nobility makes the Queen more vulnerable than ever and is this merely a coincidence? Or are these nobles up to something?

Madge does not know which outcome she is meant to favour.

Madge returns to her room after she's readied Katniss for bed and finds Annie stitching quietly in the corner. She walks over and Annie is embroidering her dolphin and that wyvern she is so fond of side by side in a frame. Madge smiles.

"That's beautiful," she says and Annie's shoulders tense.

"Thank you, my lady," she replies, her voice stiff. Madge frowns.

"Why are you being so formal?" she asks and Annie finally stills her needle, though she does not look up.

"That is the appropriate manner for a maid and her mistress, is it not?"

"But I'm not your mistress," Madge says in confusion, "I'm your friend."

Annie stands abruptly, her fingers tight on the wooden frame of her embroidery.

"No," she says vehemently, "you're not."

"What?" Madge asks, voice weak with shock, and feels as if Annie has slapped her. "Why not?"

"I am not friends with Yorkists," Annie spits and she does look at Madge finally, her eyes hot with an angry fire. Madge steps back.

"I'm not a Yorkist."

"Aren't you? You're in love with the Earl of Salisbury, you're friends with the Duchess of Buckingham and the Queen, you probably don't even want the Lancastrians to come back!"

Annie does not give her the chance to answer, she merely whirls on her heel and storms out. Madge watches her go, too horrified even to speak.

A Yorkist?

In love with Gale?

I'm not.

I can't be.

I can't.

Unable to face anyone at Westminster with Annie's words echoing in her ears, Madge flees to her mother at Cold Harbour.

I am not friends with Yorkists

Annie's accusations stick in her skin like needles as she sits in her mother's solar, each one sharp and damning.

You're in love with the Earl of Salisbury

"Glimmer is pregnant," her mother says mildly as she embroiders and Madge barely hears her.

You probably don't even want the Lancastrians to come back!

"Oh?" she asks, the fury in Annie's eyes all she can see.

"Yes, about two months along. It might even have been a wedding night baby. They've not told anyone else, as it's so early, but a step-mother does have certain privileges."

"Indeed," Madge agrees, not paying anywhere near enough attention to notice the way her mother's eyes narrow.

"They're quite excited of course, who wouldn't be? The baby should be born in March, you might even share a birthday."

"How wonderful," Madge murmurs and her mother sighs, setting down her embroidery.

"What's the matter, my love?" she asks and Madge blinks before looking over at her mother in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Madge, please. I am your mother; it is not hard to see that something is bothering you. Now, what is it?"

Madge bites her lip, all of Annie's recriminations crowding in on her.

I'm your friend

No, you're not

"Annie and I have had a fight," she starts and hates the way her voice trembles. Her mother frowns.

"About the Earl of Salisbury?"

The question hits Madge like a slap to the face.

You're in love with the Earl of Salisbury

"Why would you-why…" Madge cannot finish and she merely stares at her mother, entirely appalled. Margaret reaches over and squeezes her hand.

"I have seen the two of you together; there is no denying how much he means to you. I'm sure Anne has noticed as well."

Madge shakes her head slowly and her stomach tosses with illness. No. No. She stands suddenly, restlessness churning in her muscles.

"Annie accused me of being a Yorkist. She thinks I'm in love with Gale, that I'm friends with Prim and Katniss," she rattles off as she paces, her voice a bit higher than she'd like. Her mother watches her thoughtfully.

"Are you?" she asks and Madge freezes, her heart lurching.

"That's-don't be ridiculous. That's ridiculous," she says and tries to laugh but she can't, her breath coming quick and shallow.

"Is it? I've seen you together, and indeed, I would have to agree with Anne."

Madge shakes her head again and her mother's words are like hammer blows, like battering rams against the shield she has been hiding behind.

You're in love with the Earl of Salisbury

No, I'm not!

Madge feels almost like she's forgotten how to breathe and she clutches at her throat, her mother's eyes wide with alarm.

"Madge," she says in concern, reaching out a hand and Madge stumbles away, nearly tripping over her skirts.

I have seen the two of you together; there is no denying how much he means to you

Shut up!

She feels her legs fold up beneath her and she sinks down to the floor, horror creeping over all her limbs.

You're in love with the Earl of Salisbury

"No, no. I can't be, I can't. He's the enemy. I don't. I can't, I can't."

She means to sound sure, but there is no conviction to her words, only desperation. Her mother stands from her chair and takes a few tentative steps closer.

"Madge-"

"No! I don't love him, or any of them. They killed father, they're the enemy! I can't love them, I hate them. I hate them. I do, I do."

Her mother's eyes are sad and Madge feels the dam inside her break, a great flood of tears breaking over her. She drops her head into her hands and sobs, her entire body heaving.

You're in love with the Earl of Salisbury

Am I?

She thinks of him, of his smile, his eyes, the way her skin tingles at his touch. She thinks of him with Posy, thinks of his kindness and the way her heart pounds when he's near. She thinks of every letter he's written her, of how it feels to walk with him, talk with him, the way joy had nearly swallowed her at his proposal. She thinks of Gale, from his stubbornness to his teaching her archery to his kisses, his sense of humour to his motto to that heraldry book he'd bought her. She thinks of Gale, every part of him, and the answer is clear.

Cold certainty begins to fill her and she can feel all her walls of denial start to crumble, layer after layer crashing down around her.

It was never guilt, never illness. I love him. I want to marry him.

Traitor

"Oh Madge, oh my darling," her mother coos, kneeling down beside her and wrapping her in her arms. Madge leans into her embrace and weeps and weeps, her heart plunged into despair. I am wicked, I am foul, I am…she can't even think of the word; for there are none that could ever hope to describe the depth of her sin.

"Hush, my love, hush, there is no need to cry," her mother soothes, stroking her hair. Madge shakes her head, shakes her whole body and wishes she could shake away the filth she can feel clinging to her skin.

"I am…I am horrible, I am despicable, I'm-" she breaks off in a sob and again, she cannot even conceive of the words needed to describe just how terrible she is. "I have b-betrayed you, Father, Annie," she chokes out and her mother grabs her shoulders.

"Madge, look at me. Look at me," she says sternly and Madge does, peeking through her splayed fingers. Her mother frowns.

"Do you think Gale is a good man?"

Madge feels another wave of sorrow crash over her, the taint of betrayal curdling her stomach.

"I cannot-I…I'm sorry," she weeps, dropping her head but her mother doesn't allow it, lifting Madge's chin with her hand.

"Sweetheart, do you think he's a good man?"

Madge swallows her protests and the answer is obvious of course.

"Yes," she whispers, because she does, of course she does.

"Does he make you happy?"

Madge bites her lip, feels a knife in her gut and oh father, I am sorry, I am so sorry.

"Yes," she breathes and wishes she could deny it still. Her mother nods.

"Then what reason is there to cry so?"

"Because…because he is the enemy! He fought against father!"

"He did," her mother agrees and Madge feels that like another slap to the face, the horrid truth of her betrayal ringing in her ears. "He was our enemy. But my darling, the war is over now. If you believe him to be a good man, if he makes you happy, then I rejoice in that, as your father would."

"No, no," Madge starts and her mother squeezes her shoulders.

"Yes Madge, yes. If you carry this war with you, you will be miserable all your days, poisoned by vengeance and suffering. I do not feel betrayed Madge, nor would your father. All we have ever wanted is to see you happy. Denying yourself that happiness is the only way you could ever betray us, my sweet, sweet love."

Her mother hugs her then, hugs her tight and Madge melts into that embrace, clinging to her like she might never let go.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Madge cries into her mother's shoulder, guilt like a living thing writhing about inside of her.

"Do not be. Do you remember what I told you? We must survive Madge, no matter the cost. You need not feel ashamed, not with me. I love you," her mother says and Madge grabs hold of that, binds it to her grief. She takes that love, acceptance, support and wraps it around her seeping wounds, tries to lessen the violent sting of her own betrayal.

She isn't angry, they aren't betrayed.

We must survive, happiness is no sin.

(but still, there is a loathing in her heart, a nasty whisper in her ear)

(no matter how much they love me, no matter how happy they are, I am a traitor)

(and Annie, oh Annie, will you ever forgive me?)

(will I ever forgive myself?)

(Annie carries out her duties with venom in her heart, its poison slowly leaking into her blood.

How could she do this to me?

She is a traitor, she is in love with a Yorkist! She is a Yorkist, she might as well be! How could she, how could she?

And what about you, comes the vicious whisper in her head, how could you be so cruel to her, the only friend you have?

She is no friend of mine! She's betrayed me, betrayed us all! The Yorkists are monsters, villains! They care nothing for England, they love only themselves and their lust for power. I cannot forgive her for this.

Annie tries to shake the tears from her eyes and sweeps away the dead leaves of a plant by the window. The curled brown leaves sit on top of a book, Madge's heraldry book, and Annie feels as if she's been punched in the gut.

How could you do this to me?

She is angry, furious even, but the worst of it, the very worst part, is that she does not want to be. She should be enraged, unable to forgive, but she knows she could, knows that she does not want to lose Madge, no matter how much she should want to. The only happy memories she's made since Lancaster's defeat have been with Madge and as much as she wants to hate her, she can't, not really.

She is my friend

My only friend

Madge has betrayed her, betrayed Lancaster and both their fathers, Finnick, but Annie cannot bring herself to hate her.

Madge is a traitor.

(but so am I)

Madge returns to her room, her heart a heavy weight in her chest, and Annie is bent over the bed fussing with the pillows. Madge stares at her back for a long moment, all while Annie gives no indication she's even noticed her arrival.

Forgive me Annie, please forgive me

I'm sorry

"Might I have a word, Annie?" she asks, voice cracking, and Annie stops her work. She turns and curtsies, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Of course, my lady," she responds, her words stiff and formal.

"I would like to apologize," Madge starts and Annie blinks rapidly, her rigid mask starting to slip. "You were right, I am in love with the Earl of Salisbury. I had not meant to be, but I am."

Annie's fingers tighten in her skirt and Madge fights against the urge to beg at her feet for absolution, forgiveness.

"I meant to seduce him. I had hoped that he would protect me, my mother, you even. I wanted to use his power, his influence, to see the King freed and Lancaster restored."

Annie looks up quickly, her expression cautious and disbelieving. Madge swallows.

"I had so many great plans, so many fine ambitions and I haven't forgoteen them. I fell in love and yes, I have come to care for several of the Yorkists, they are not all so evil, as it turns out. I cannot deny any of that, not anymore. But I have not forgotten who I am or who my father was nor do I not want the Lancastrians to stay in exile, certainly not your father or your Finnick." She pauses, tongue heavy. "I don't really know what I want anymore. Except…I do want your friendship Annie. I am sorry if I have hurt you, I never meant to. I did not mean for any of this to happen."

Madge closes her eyes and the silence is oppressive, each second lengthening into an hour.

"I am sorry too," Annie whispers and Madge looks up in surprise. "The Yorkists have done far too much for me to ever forgive them and I do not trust them, I never will. I will never support their false claim to the throne, nor will I ever believe they fought for freedom rather than their own ambitions. I cannot undertsand your care, your love even, for them, but they have taken too much Madge, I will not let them have this."

Magde presses her hands to her mouth, hope beating in her chest.

"You have been a good friend," Annie continues, "the best friend I've ever had. I will not begrudge you your happiness, even if I will never understand it. The world is too bleak already, one of us at least should be happy."

"Oh Annie, you are the dearest friend I've ever had. I would give up all my happiness if it meant you could have yours," she swears and Annie smiles sadly.

"I would not want you to," she says and Madge lurches forward to hug her.

"I may have fallen in love with Gale, but that does not mean I will abandon everything. I will see your happiness restored Annie, I swear."

Annie's arms come up around her and they just stand there, holding each other tight. Madge loves Gale, there will be no more denying it. But she loves Annie too and she cannot bear to see her suffer. When she and Gale are married (if comes a poisonous voice in her mind, if) she will beg him to pardon Annie's father and Finnick, to retsore their lands and titles to them.

After all, what is the point in being happy if Annie is miserable?

Madge finds Gale in the stables with his horse and she walks right up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his back. Marvel and Haymitch are not here to ruin this and she breathes him in, fills her lungs and blood and organs with him until she feels him in every single part of her.

"I love you," she says and this time she means it completely, entirely, no lies or subterfuge, but then, she'd meant it before too hadn't she? She just hadn't realized it yet. Gale covers her hands with his and squeezes.

"I love you too," he promises and for just a moment, Madge forgets about politics and war and everything else. In this moment at least, she is just Madge, sixteen years old and in love with a wonderful boy.

And it feels amazing.

(Annie lies in bed and squeezes her ring, her heart throbbing.

Father, Finnick, can you ever forgive me?

I should condemn her, I know I should.

Do you hate me?

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

Please forgive me)

September fades away beyond the palaces' windows and Madge embroiders quietly while Katniss pours over a stack of stiff documents, Prim off riding with Rory and Philippa. Madge stitches her badge and Gale's side by side on a cushion, a bitter voice inside of her wondering if this is as close as Gale and she will ever get to being united. Katniss sighs heavily.

"Majesty?" Madge asks and Katniss startles a little, as if she'd forgotten Madge was even in the room.

"Oh, Lady Madge. I'm sorry if I bothered you."

"Of course not, your Majesty. Is anything the matter?"

Katniss looks at her for a long moment, so long in fact Madge begins to feel uncomfortable. She obviously has no intention of answering and Madge wonders if she's offended her in some way. Should I not have asked? Should I apologize?

"I didn't want this," Katniss whispers and Madge freezes in surprise. "I wanted only to avenge my father, never to be queen. It was Haymitch's idea, he said if I truly wanted to honour my father, it would not be enough to win the war. I would have to rule in his name. I wish I hadn't listened."

Katniss sounds miserable, exhausted and Madge cannot speak, her voice lost in shock and sympathy. She aches for her, as strange as it may be, and she understands that driving need to honour a beloved father even at so high a price. Stranger still, is how open Katniss is being. While their relations have certainly warmed over time, this is far beyond Madge's wildest expectations. But then, perhaps if Gale trusts her, Katniss is willing to trust her as well.

"And I'm sure everyone else agrees, after all, I am doing a terrible job, that is what my mother says. What Haymitch says. What random men in the street say."

Madge bites her lip and presses her hands to her heart.

"I do not believe that," she says, her eyes beginning to sting, and Katniss looks away, gaze dropping.

"I have done everything wrong," she murmurs and Madge stands abrubtly and walks over to Katniss, taking her hands in hers.

"That is not true," she says firmly and Katniss looks up at her in surprise.

"Isn't it?" she asks after a moment. "I have infuriated the French, I have infuriated my nobles, the Lancastrians, the peasants and now even my family. I don't think I could do worse."

Madge shakes her head.

"It is easy for everyone else to judge a monarch, but you have done what you believed was right."

"Not always," Katniss admits, looking down again. "I do not take ladies because I do not want to. I know I should, but I hate the idea of strangers around me every moment of every day, watching me and reporting on my every move to their fathers and brothers and husbands. I just wanted some time where I needn't act like a queen, where I might be me again. Haymitch told me it was foolish decision, but I wouldn't listen."

Madge bites her lip and Katniss continues, her voice growing rougher with every word.

"He said I should honour not just our allies, but those whose loyalty we needed to win, but I didn't. I was angry at them for my father, so I did not reward them. He told me also that I should side with France, but I was determined to make my own choices. I wanted some determination over my own life, but he was right, he was right. I have destroyed everything we worked for, everything my father fought for."

"You have had this position forced upon you, but your reasons for siding with Burgundy were sound. And you are not the only person to be lead astray by anger. All is not yet lost and you will rise to this challenge Majesty, I have faith in that," Madge swears, a thick syrup of tragedy clogging her veins. Oh Katniss, Katniss, Katniss.

"I've no idea how," Katniss whispers, eyes closed.

"Then we will figure it out together," Madge promises and Katniss looks up at her, eyes damp.

"Together?"

Madge nods.

"Together."

(together)

(who ever thought a Lancastrian would ever say together to a Yorkist?)

The discontent in England continues to bubble, fed and encouraged by blood-hungry Lancastrians.

Katniss has her supporters of course and plenty of them, but still, there are a growing number of people all across the kingdom that are angry, upset, afraid. Some yearn for the familiarity of a man on the throne, some are terrified of a foreigner holding power over them, some feel angry and slighted by Katniss and her choices, some seek vengeance, while still others feel she has failed them.

It is just like Madge's childhood all over again, the ever present threat of rebellion lurking around every corner and for the first time since all this madness began, she prays the Yorkists are spared and this disquiet will soon fade.

Madge is a Lancastrian born and raised, but finally, she can see past revenge and heartbreak. War is devastation for all and she cannot bear to witness England choking on its own blood yet again.

Spare us this calamity, preserve us and bless us with peace, she prays, England has suffered enough.

(and below all of that, underneath the sincere desire to avoid a war, there is something else as well.

There is Gale and Katniss and Peeta and Prim, Darius and Posy and Philippa, Rory, Petronella, Hazelle, and even Haymitch)

(there is her heart and part of it beats white for York)

Fall grows colder every day and Gale leaves in October for some of his properties.

Madge cannot see him off but she is glad for him to go, even if it means they will be long apart. When he is away, they might at least write to each other, when he is here, they are constantly spied upon, constantly kept apart. She watches him ride off from a window and she hates this, hates that now she knows she loves him, it has become so much harder to be with him.

Are we cursed?

Sometimes I think we are.

Or maybe England is, all of England

October, November, they pass in a gray haze, every person at court on tether hooks.

Madge knows what the country is hurtling towards and she sleeps with Gale's letters beneath her pillow, hoping they will lend her courage. She is not ready for another war, does not think she will ever be ready.

Annie is clearly nervous too, fingers shaking as they embroider and Madge almost asks her if she wants this, if she hopes it will lead to a Lancastrian restoration, but then she bites her tongue. Their renewed friendship is too fragile for questions like that and it doesn't matter much anyway. Surely Annie hopes for Lancaster to rise again and Madge cannot really blame her. Her fortunes have sunk low under the Yorkist regime, why would she not want to see Lancaster return to power?

As for Madge, well she is not entirely sure who she wants to reign supreme.

I want peace, she thinks, that's all I want

Shortly after Gale returns in late December, word reaches them from Lancashire; the very news Madge has been dreading.

Rebellion.

England is heaving with anger, betrayal and the time has come for Katniss of York to prove herself.

Madge prays she can.

Nothing so clearly demonstrates England's mood than London on the day of the Queen's departure.

Where cheering throngs once gathered, now only grave faces stand, their numbers thin and their expressions bleak. Katniss once came to London as a beloved savior; she leaves it now followed by accusatory eyes (you brought this on us they say) and silent prayers (save us Your Majesty they whisper).

The people are weary of war and Madge cannot blame them. Katniss was meant to usher in an era of peace, but she has failed in that. Madge wonders if anyone could really have succeeded and she cannot say. Perhaps Haymitch is right and Katniss and Gale have been foolish and naïve, their decisions condemning the country to more bloodshed and terror. Or perhaps they had no chance at all, with open wounds still festering in so many English hearts. Madge does not know. It matters little in the end, for war is here.

Carnage and mayhem have returned to England.

Madge stands with Peeta and Prim to see off their daring champions, Katniss, Gale and Darius all riding off in splendid armor. Madge has never seen Katniss arrayed as the warrior who won her crown and it is a bit awe inspiring, a bit breath taking. Katniss does not look worn or tired, not fearful or nervous. She seems taller, surer, her shoulders straight. She does not look pleased, far from it, but there is a fierceness to her gaze that Madge cannot help but admire.

If anyone can defeat these rebels, it is Katniss, Madge is sure of that.

Gale looks dashing, but then, doesn't he always? He is a soldier too, Madge reminds herself, he has fought and won a war already, but still, fear does not leave her. There are too many people about for her to tell him I love you, even for her to bestow a token on him and she hates the dictates of manners, the rules of propriety. She cannot bear the thought of his death and she wants to hold him, to kiss him, to touch him.

Prim sniffles into Darius' arms, Peeta murmurs quietly into Katniss' ear and Madge merely stares at Gale and hopes her thoughts find their way to his.

Be safe, my love

Be brave

He notices her gaze and smiles, the sight aching deep in Madge's heart. He lifts his gauntleted arm just slightly and she sucks in a breath, a sting of tears in her eyes. There, tucked into his armor, is a handkerchief.

Her handkerchief.

It is her gift to him from last Christmas and she covers her mouth with her hands. She smiles though the tears and she feels somehow relieved, as if he will be safer now, with her token and her love to carry through the fight. Katniss and Darius mount their horses and the great procession of knights sets out, Madge's thoughts chasing behind them.

Be careful

Be victorious

I love you Gale Hawthorne, Earl of Salisbury

Come home to me

Waiting, of course, is always the hardest part.

London is somber, Peeta attempting as best he can to carry out Katniss' duties, even as his face shows the same fear Madge can feel in her heart.

Bring them home to us, please

(she is not too preoccupied to notice that Peeta's authority, however benevolent, makes London uneasy)

(even if the rebels in Lancashire are defeated, it is not the end)

(it's never the end)

The news that finally reaches them from the front is truly, unbelievably, miraculous.

Word comes that the Queen's forces met the rebels and a bloody battle ensued, but then, then, from over the hills came another army riding from the north.

An army led by Haymitch, Earl of Warwick and his son Marvel, Earl of Northumberland.

This new army smashed into the rebels' rear and caught between two Yorkist forces, the enemy army was utterly devastated. Their surrender was complete and unconditional but no one cares much about that. The news that sets fire to England is simple.

The Yorkists are back.

(Marvel rides back to London as a hero, the fight between his father, Gale and Katniss seemingly forgiven and forgotten. All is mended, all is well and the House of York is back and better than ever)

(it is a secret of course, but Marvel has won, he's won it all)

(he bided his time, he waited and now he's won)

(except there is a storm coming, one greater than any of them could ever have imagined)

London rejoices as its victorious heroes return and it is just like that March nearly two years ago when they cantered in as conquerors. People line the streets regardless of the cold and sleet, cheers rise up to the sky and colourful banners wave as Katniss, Gale and Haymitch ride in together, the House of York finally put back together again. Darius and Marvel come right after them, Marvel waving loftily to the crowd and Madge feels thick, syrupy relief bubble inside of her at the sight of all of them, safe and whole.

The procession winds its way to Westminster where Peeta is waiting on the steps to greet them, his sunshine smile threatening to overtake his entire face. Madge, her mother, Prim and Glimmer wait to his left, while Hazelle and the rest of the Salisbury brood stand to the right, all of them glowing with this happy reunion.

In this moment, at least, England is nothing but bright and joyous.

(if only such fortune would last)

After many speeches and congratulations, England's three great champions gather together for drinks, each one handed a large tankard of ale. Madge, her mother and Peeta join them, but do not drink, instead they watch from the edge of the room, each of them relieved at the sight before them.

The Yorkists are whole once more

"I am so happy to have you back with us," Katniss says, a lightness to her voice Madge has never heard. Gale laughs and slings an arm over her shoulder, thrusting his mug up into the air.

"To the House of York, may we never falter again!" he cries, so jubilant it makes Madge's insides feel warm and fluttery.

"Hear, hear!" Katniss cheers and though Haymitch smiles, it doesn't seem to quite reach his eyes. The three of them knock their tankards together and Haymitch drinks deeply, indeed, perhaps a little too deeply.

"Are you alright, cousin?" Gale asks, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Weary is all," Haymitch answers with a smile and Gale laughs.

"It has been a trying few days," he agrees, before he grins, "but victorious ones! Now that we are together again, nothing and no one shall divide us!"

Katniss cheers again and they clunk their mugs together, each of them draining the remainder of their ale. Haymitch stares morosely into his empty tankard while Katniss flags down a servant and Gale belches loudly. He looks over at Madge in sudden embarrassment and she rolls her eyes.

"More ale," Katniss says and the server hurries off. Haymitch frowns thoughtfully, his gaze on Madge and she is sure he caught their interaction. He turns to Gale, just as a boy comes with ale to refill their mugs.

"Forgive me Gale, I should not have denied you your request. I would be honoured to consent to your betrothal to Lady Madge," Haymitch says and Gale's mouth actually pops open, Madge feeling as if she's had the rug tugged out from beneath her.

"If you'll allow it, I will petition the Pope for the dispensation myself," Haymitch offers and Gale smiles, big and wide and happy. He throws himself on a surprised Haymitch in a hug and squeezes.

"Thank you," he says, "thank you."

"Should we not first ask the lady if she is willing?" Katniss teases and Gale beams, practically skipping over to Madge. He takes both her hands in his and leans in, his forehead nearly touching hers.

"So, my love? Will you marry me?"

He sounds so happy, so free of burden and she feels it too, a bright, warm wave of joy washing over her.

"Yes, my good lord, I will," she tells him and everyone claps and cheers, Gale pressing kisses to the backs of her hands. There are smiles on every face, a hopeful light shining in her heart and we're to be married! We're really going to get married!

(happy as she is, she misses one very important thing)

(Haymitch does not smile)

It is entirely inappropriate of course, but if Madge spends the next few days stealing kisses with Gale, well, she thinks they should be forgiven.

"I love you," he tells her between each press of their lips and "I love you too," she swears, jubilant in a way she never dreamed she'd be. His arms are strong around her and she melts into his embrace, her entire body aflutter with each touch of his mouth. Her fingers wind through the softness of his hair and she burns where his hands touch her through her dress, something molten starting to flood throughout her body. He opens his mouth and Madge shivers all over as his tongue caresses her lips. Without thought and heedless of how brazen an action it is, her own mouth parts and within a moment, she is drowning.

However delightful his kisses had been, they are nothing to this kiss, nothing at all. Passion thrums inside of her and this kiss is deeper, more intense than any fantasy she ever could have had. She clings to him, draws him as near as she can and every touch of his tongue makes her feel intoxicated, a rush of heat spilling through her. Her back somehow ends up against the wall and his body is solid as it presses against hers, a delicious sizzling happening at every point of contact.

He breaks their kiss and she is dizzy, breathless, but he is not done, trailing hot kisses across her jaw, down her neck and she sighs, sinking into him. He pulls back abruptly, his breathing ragged and she tugs on his shoulders, her yearning for him still bright within her.

"What is it?" she pants, body still humming.

"You are impossible to resist, but we can't, not here, not like this," he mumbles, voice strained.

"Never stopped you before," she says as she leans up for another kiss, her brain fogged with passion. He tenses.

"What?"

Madge opens her eyes and the fog inside her starts to dissipate. Oh no, oh no, why did you say that? Idiot!

"Madge," he says and she swallows.

"You are right of course, I should guard my virtue more carefully," she laughs but he does not smile.

"Madge," he repeats and she ducks her head in embarrassment.

"December, last December, I may have…heard you with a girl. In a hallway. And you did not seem to be doing much resisting then."

The silence between them is deafening, horrid and she wants to slap herself. Why must I ruin everything? Why, why, why?

"Oh," Gale finally says and Madge feels as if something great and heavy has been dropped on her head. Idiot, idiot, idiot!

"I'm sorry," he apologizes and she blinks in confusion before looking up at him.

"Sorry?" she echoes and he nods, not quite meeting her eyes.

"I am sorry you had to hear that and…" a sudden look of horror crosses his face. "You don't think I still do that, do you?"

Madge feels her face turn red.

"Oh, I uh, I haven't really given it much thought."

(liar)

Gale grabs both her hands, his expression urgent.

"I don't, I haven't since then. That time with Leevy was the last time," he swears and Madge feels her mouth open.

"Leevy? The Queen's maid Leevy?" she asks and Gale's eyes go very wide.

"Uhhh…yes," he admits with palpable embarrassment and she nods.

"Oh. Oh."

She does not know exactly how to process this. She sees Leevy every day, how had she not put the pieces together? And how will she ever face her again, knowing now? Poor Leevy would be so mortified if she knew Madge had heard her, faster Gale faster.

oh no, oh no, this is awful.

"I swear Madge, I've not even thought of anyone but you since then," he insists and she focuses back on him, "I hadn't admitted it to myself, but as soon as I did, there's been no one else. There won't be, not as long as I live. You're the only woman I want, forever. I promise."

He kisses her palm and Madge feels swept away by his declaration, silly tears burning in her eyes.

"I know," she reassures him and he smiles, sweet and relieved, "there's no one else but you for me too."

He runs a thumb over her cheek to catch a stray tear and then leans forward to kiss her. He thinks better of it and kisses her forehead instead.

"Good, I'd hate for to you think I'd ever-"

She shakes her head and cups his face in her hands.

"I know you wouldn't. My Gale would never."

He beams and pulls her close.

"Your Gale, always."

She nods, nestling into his chest.

always

The rebellion has passed, the Yorkists have healed their rift but still, England is not at peace.

Madge wants to be happy, she truly does, but there is still discontent in the streets and towns and fields of England, a dark whisper of danger to come.

She remembers being small and listening at her parents' door as they talked of that first rebellion and how it was only just the beginning. Madge tries to tell herself that history is not repeating but it is.

Deep down, she knows it is.

She is right.

Near the end of February, 1470 they get word of another rebellion, this one boiling up near Wales. There is a great wave of preparation, summons sent out, armor polished and swords sharpened. Haymitch looks grave, Marvel restive and Madge feels an icy knife sticking in her gut. The army that has risen is said to be large and angry, braying for blood and Madge can think only of her father, slaughtered on the battlefield with so many others. What if Gale follows him?

Haymitch decides that it would be safer to move them as far east as he can, so she and her mother are to be sent to her mother's castle of Rochester in Kent. The heavily pregnant Glimmer will accompany them, the three of them left behind to wait and pray and worry behind its thick walls. Gale holds her hand and says "I'll come with you". He kisses her cheek and she knows he only means he'll ride with her to Rochester before he goes off to war, but she wishes wishes wishes she could keep him, lock him up somewhere safe where there is no bloodshed or death.

They pack up their things and go, leaving behind Westminster and its hectic activity. Katniss strides about in her armor giving commands, a warrior born and bred, and she looks magnificent truly, like something someone should write a ballad about. Peeta's worried eyes follow her around and then Westminster is behind them, soon London too, nothing but the snow strewn countryside before them. They move swiftly and Madge can feel the fear here, feel it rising up from the earth.

The people are terrified

(they should be)

They reach Kent and Madge knows that means goodbye is almost upon them and she hates this, hates that once again England has been cursed into warfare. Why can we not have peace?

Dinner is solemn and she sleeps fitfully, plagued by dreams of a thousand horrors. When the light of dawn shines through her window dread wells up inside her, because she knows what morning means.

Time to say goodbye.

Madge looks out at all the men readying for war and feels her heart squeeze.

Just like last time…

She shakes her head and walks over to Gale with a smile as he fixes his saddle, will not ruin their goodbye with tears and worry.

"Sir Gale," she says with a curtsy, "I have something for you, if you would allow it."

He turns and smiles, her chest suddenly warm. He takes her hands and pulls her up and for a moment they just look at each other, the fear she's been fighting since they heard of this rebellion starting to rise again, like poison in her blood. What if he ends up like Father?

Madge closes her eyes for a moment and forces the thought away. Don't think like that, don't. She ties a ribbon around his gauntlet.

"A lady's favour to keep you safe," she says and he grins.

"I shall wear it proudly."

She smiles as best she can and he digs about in his saddlebag, a light in his eyes. He pulls out a locket on a silver chain and drapes it around her neck.

"Here," he says, "to remind you of me."

Madge laughs. "As if I could ever forget."

She takes it in her palm and holds it up to see. It is a simple locket in silver but it is the intertwined M and H etched on the frontthat catch her attention.

"A promise of things to come," he whispers and her heart thumps in her chest. She looks back up at him and he takes her hands in his, her fingers curling reflexively over his. They spend a moment just staring and oh, how she wishes this moment could last forever.

"I'll wear it always," she promises and Gale grins before kissing her knuckles.

"I will return to you, Madge," he swears, voice sincere and she nods, her heart squeezing tight. "You have my word of honour."

"And I shall hold you to it," she replies, voice weak, smile tremulous. His smile is stronger, warmer and he squeezes her hands.

"And when I return, we shall marry."

"I shall definitely hold you to that."

"I'm counting on it," he says with her favourite grin and then, heedless of the crowd around them and the impropriety of such an action, he kisses her. Madge sinks into his mouth, feels his warmth in her bones and this isn't goodbye, not forever. He breathes her in for a moment, their foreheads pressed together and hands clasped and then he pulls away, the air around her suddenly colder. He mounts his horse, gleaming bright and silver in the sunlight and she watches him ride away with fear in her heart.

Don't think of Father, don't. It won't end like that this time, it won't.

(it can't)

Madge waits for a little over a week, her nerves ravaged.

February turns to March and she hopes every day for news, but when it comes, she isn't ready.

Not at all.

"Wake up Madge, wake up!"

Annie shakes her roughly and Madge startles into consciousness, the sun barely risen outside.

"Hurry," Annie implores, real fear in her voice, and Madge sits up in alarm.

"What? What is it?" she asks in confusion and Annie is already moving about the room, pulling out Madge's best travelling gown and cloak.

"It's Haymitch, he's back," Annie starts and for a moment Madge is simply relieved. If Haymitch is back, that means we won, doesn't it?

"He says we have to leave now, take only what's most necessary. He says they're coming for us," Annie continues and Madge feels her heart plummet.

"Who's coming?" she asks and Annie shakes her head.

"I don't know, but I've never seen him so panicked. We must go, we must hurry," she almost sobs, a very real terror in her voice. She was there when the Yorkists raided her home; I suppose she knows what horrors to expect.

Madge feels her heart thumping as she climbs out of bed and pulls off her nightgown. Annie hurriedly laces her into her dress and they pack as quickly as they can, shouted voices floating up from the courtyard and drifting in through her window. Annie stuffs as much clothes as she can into the chest at the foot of Madge's bed and Madge grabs all of her jewels, just in case they ever need to pawn them. She snatches up her heraldry book from Gale and the embroidery frame she made for her father that always hangs above her bed and then they're off, Annie waylaying a terrified page to help carry down her trunk. The whole of Rochester is in frenzy, shouting and running in every direction, their fear thick and palpable. This is just like when they abandoned Bedford, except worse, because the threat is so much closer now, the danger so much more immediate.

"I don't understand, why can't this wait? It's barely morning," Glimmer whines as Annie and Madge rush into the courtyard.

"We have no time for this Glimmer," Marvel snaps in irritation and actually lifts her up and loads her into a litter, "get in!"

Glimmer opens her mouth to protest but gets no chance, Marvel dragging over his stepmother and shoving her in as well. He turns, hair blown wild by the furious ride he must have undertaken to get here, and notices Madge.

"What's taken you so long?" he roars and lurches over. He grabs her chest and practically throws it into a baggage cart.

"Get on a horse!" he shouts and clambers onto his own, wild eyed, and Madge feels her fear intensify. She looks around and finds Haymitch barking orders in every direction. She grabs Annie's hand and pulls her over, desperate for answers. Gale's locket burns through her dress and please be alright, please please be alright.

"We have no time, forget it! Forget it!" Haymitch shouts at someone and then he sees Madge. "What are you doing, get on a horse!" he orders and then his gaze slides over to Annie.

"We cannot bring maids with us," he says but then frowns, thoughtful lines cutting into his forehead. Madge waits, her heart beating in her throat and then "Robert, take her!" he suddenly bellows and a frightened squire does just that, pulling Annie up onto his horse. Madge grabs his arm.

"Are the rebels coming?" she asks and Haymitch suddenly laughs, a short, bitter sound that chills her to the bone.

"No, Madge. We're the rebels."

end of part one