roses are red, roses are white

by Forever in Your Heart

remember this as a tragedy, as a warning for those who covet the throne. a crown is always paid for in blood and no king or queen ever lives to see happily ever after. (but do not forget our glory, our victories, our heroics. history will record our failures, follies, weaknesses. you will witness our triumphs) gadge. historical au

13. the lions of burgundy

I'm so sorry for the wait and I know this probably isn't the chapter everyone wanted, but I promise the cliffhanger will be resolved in this chapter and that Gadge will reunite in the next, which should be up much sooner than this one! Thanks for reading :)

---

roses are red, roses are white
interlude
the lions of burgundy

May 1471
Tewkesbury

"It's over."

Two words and Madge feels as if she's leapt from a tower wall. She is falling and the ground is coming too fast, but she cannot stop it. Once he tells them who won, there will be no going back.

(and deep down, she fears she already knows the answer)

(it is always the same isn't it?)

"And?" Clove demands, her voice shrill and Madge knows it is with fear. The messenger swallows, his head bobs and Clove leans towards him with manic eyes. She knows what defeat means as well, they all do. The messenger does not answer for a moment and Enobaria could be a statue, so still and rigid is she.

Madge holds her breath even as she knows what comes next.

---

November 1470
Burgundy

The pale gray of the afternoon sky darkens as evening creeps closer and Katniss takes a steadying breath of cool air. She focuses on the target in the distance and pulls her arm back, her bow steady and arrow ready. The breeze tickles her skin but she doesn't notice, for in this moment there is no world, nor politics or war or rebellion or exile. There is nothing but her and her bow, nothing but the target and the arrow she will soon loose. The tension rooted in her bones for so many years simply fades and Katniss feels a brief, beautiful calm.

Archery is, as it always has been, her only refuge.

She releases and the arrow flies, her aim as true as ever. Her arrow sinks into the target, joining so many others and then the world intrudes again, anxiety starting to wriggle like worms beneath her skin. Katniss sighs and scoops up her empty quiver. She heads towards the target to gather her arrows and when was the last time she truly felt calm and at ease? Not in brief snatches as she does with archery, but completely? It has been years, certainly, and she's not sure she even remembers what that must have been like.

Only fools would wish for a crown

(of course, her father had wanted it, hadn't he?)

(she never knows how to feel about that)

There is a crowd of arrows stuck in the center of the target and she tugs at the first. They've been trapped in Burgundy for a month now and Katniss has never felt so helpless. Coriolanus is loose in England, Prim is stuck there with him and Katniss can do nothing but hope her in-laws decide to help. If they don't...She takes hold of the second arrow and pulls it free. It isn't that she doubts Peeta, she is sure he will one day convince his parents to lend them aid, but it is that one day that kills her. How long must they wait here? How long will Coriolanus be left to run amuck in England? She wraps her hand around the shaft of the third and I swore I wouldn't let Coriolanus mutilate England again and yet I am, aren't I? I've failed my country again. No matter what I do, it is always wrong.

Damn it

The arrow snaps in her hand.

---

Rory tips his chair back and stares at the ceiling.

The sun sinks low in the sky and he should probably light a candle soon, or he'll be left sitting in the dark. He sighs and he is bored, he is always bored. He is too young to join in the negotiations but too old to be provided with entertainment, so he sits alone and stews. Every day's the same, miserable, lonely and he misses home and his family so much he almost wants to cry (not that he'd ever admit it). He has nothing to do but think about all he's left behind and about what will happen if they don't manage to raise an army and all those thoughts leave him cold. He wants to shout at someone, do something, anything but there is nothing for him to do.

It's infuriating.

It is lucky he is always alone for he feels his temper grow short, feels his nerves rubbing raw beneath his skin. Gale visits on occasion but he is always tired and sullen, his mood only dragging Rory's down even farther. Burgundy, exile, is Hell. Rory doesn't think he'll survive it much longer. He slams his chair back down and stands.

He needs to get out; he can't stay here boiling over any longer.

I need to get out

---

The sun has almost set when a weary looking Peeta steps into their bedchamber.

A line of orange light spills through the window and across Katniss as she sits on the floor, the plumpest of their pillows beneath her. Her right hand soaks in a now tepid bowl of water and Peeta blinks down at her in surprise.

"What are you doing?"

Katniss sighs. "Splinters," she explains and Peeta winces in sympathy.

"I've brought supper," he says and closes the door behind him. Katniss sits up a little straighter and peeks up at the tray balanced on his left hand. She can see bread and meat, pork maybe, and by the smell of it covered in cinnamon sauce. Things here always seem to be covered in cinnamon sauce. Still, Katniss is not one to turn down food (though she'd kill for a cheese bun) and she follows the tray with her eyes as Peeta crosses to the bed. He takes the second plumpest pillow and settles on it facing her as her stomach rumbles. He smiles faintly and sets the tray down between them, the pork and bread joined by a few hunks of aged cheese and a tart that might be filled with egg. Katniss barely bottles up her sigh. In England she could have as many cheese buns as she wanted, here it is always egg tarts and cinnamon sauce.

(maybe being queen did have some perks)

She reaches for a knife with her left hand and awkwardly tries to spear some of the pork. It isn't easy and more than one piece determinedly slips from her knife, but finally she stabs one deep enough to hold it there. Unfortunately, the piece she's finally managed to get a hold of is too large to fit in her mouth all at once, the sauce drips onto the hose she'd stolen from Gale to do her archery (Peeta's were too short while Gale's too long hose could at least be rolled at the waist) and Katniss cannot help her embarrassment that Peeta is watching her sad attempt to eat. She opens her mouth to try to excuse herself, after all she can only use one hand and her non-dominant at that, but he doesn't seem to really see her. His eyes are far away and when he sighs, Katniss can feel it all the way to her bones. She puts down her pork laden knife and gropes for something to say to lighten the weight she can see pulling him down. She has never been very good with words, but just like with Prim, Peeta makes her wish she was.

"Here," he says and takes her wet hand from the bowl. He turns it palm up and for a moment they both stare at the slivers of wood wedged beneath her skin. He runs a light finger over each one and she scoots a little closer without really noticing.

"I'm sorry, I still haven't made any progress with my parents," he admits and gently begins to work out the first of her splinters. "I do think my father's sympathetic to you, but he'll never go against Mother and she certainly isn't."

Katniss frowns. "But what about you? Isn't he sympathetic to you too?"

Peeta stops his ministrations for a moment and stares at her. He drops his head and removes the first splinter.

"My parents have made it clear they blame me for all that's gone wrong."

"What? How do they reckon that?" Katniss demands and Peeta squeezes her hand somewhat convulsively.

"Well, supposedly I have failed at…everything. I have failed to give you an heir, I have failed to be a great leader, soldier and knight and I have failed to be a masterful husband. I am not man enough to keep you and England in line apparently." He is both bitter and embarrassed as he says it and Katniss feels a wave of loathing for Duchess Jeanne and Duke Charles.

"How enlightened," she says sourly and Peeta winces.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes as he pulls out the next splinter. "They're wrong to suggest I should try to rule you or your country. I've no right to do either. They're wrong too to blame you; none of this is your fault."

"Yes it is," she corrects as he removes the third splinter.

"No, it isn't," he counters immediately without looking up from the final sliver of wood in her hand. Katniss sighs. This is an argument they've had time and time again while trapped here in Burgundy and it is one neither of them ever wins.

"I alienated my nobles, the French and Haymitch; if anyone bears the blame for this, it's me," she says as she always does and his shoulders tense.

"It is marriage to me that drove the French and your people against you." His tone is stubborn like it always is and Katniss grits her teeth.

"I chose this marriage, so it's my fault," she retorts and he tugs out the last splinter.

"I agreed to it. And Gale was your willing partner in this endeavor as well. You cannot put all this on yourself. England had not healed from the war; it was inevitable that it would break apart again."

Katniss inhales but does not pull her hand away from him. Peeta continues to hold it even as he glares at her and she bites her tongue in aggravation.

"If I was a better queen, I could have healed England's divisions," she insists and he drops her hand in frustration. She instantly misses the warmth of his touch and he shakes his head.

"Why are you so determined to bear all the guilt? We all have a share in this mess," he says and she meets his eyes defiantly.

"Mine is the largest share," she says and cuts him off as he opens his mouth to say more. "Don't argue, there is nothing you can say that will change my mind."

Peeta pinches the bridge of his nose and hisses out a breath. "Fine," he says tightly and for a moment they sit in tense silence. Katniss fidgets uncomfortably and wishes she knew the words to makes things right again. She always hates when they argue, but she never knows how to put them back on the right foot. Katniss gnaws on her lip and Peeta blows out a breath.

"I have managed to win my brothers to our side; they might be of some help in winning my parents."

Katniss slumps in relief at his peace offering. "I'm sure they will," she says and offers up a smile, one she hopes conveys that she is not angry. Peeta gives her a small one in return and without really thinking, she blurts out "I have faith that you'll succeed."

Peeta's eyes widen and pink dusts his cheeks. He ducks his head. "I fear that faith may be misplaced," he says in a shy voice and Katniss shakes her head.

"I don't think so. I'm not very good at negotiation or politics, but I do know you are. If anyone can win us the help we need, I know it's you."

Peeta turns pinker still and looks up at her with very wide eyes. She feels herself grow steadily warmer under his gaze until he finally breaks the contact and coughs loudly.

"Well, um, thank you. I won't rest until I have."

Katniss reaches out and tentatively pats his hand. She means to pull away but doesn't, letting her fingers rest on top of his.

"I know you will," she says and wants to say something else, but doesn't know what. He looks down at their hands and starts to speak in a low voice.

"My mother has started asking some rather probing questions about our marriage, I think she hopes to seek an annulment."

Katniss feels instantly cold. "An annulment?"

Peeta nods and slowly turns his hand over so they are palm to palm. "I won't say anything that will give her an opening, not unless you want me to."

Feeling somehow colder still, Katniss can barely speak her mouth is so dry. "Why would I want you to?" she croaks and Peeta shrugs.

"You might find a husband who can be of greater help and maybe one that…" He trails off and Katniss feels inexplicable nerves in her stomach. Her fingers tighten around Peeta's in a grip that is surely painful.

"One that…?" she questions and Peeta bites his lip.

"Well, we could have an annulment as we haven't…seeing as we've never…" He pauses for a moment and swallows. "We've never…consummated our marriage. Perhaps you could find someone you might wish to…to consummate a marriage with." He does not look at her as he says it and Katniss feels her lips part and her eyes stretch wide. Peeta does not look up, his fingers soft and warm around hers and Katniss can feel heat stretching out over her like a blanket. She needs to say something but can find no words, and thankfully she is saved by a knock at the door.

"Katniss?" Gale calls from the other side and Katniss leaps up as if she'd sat on a fire. She can feel Peeta's eyes on her as she wrenches open the door, but she cannot turn and face him. Gale peers over her shoulder with a frown.

"Were you eating on the floor?"

Katniss doesn't answer and pushes him out into the hall. "Come on, we have so much to talk about," she says and shuts the door quickly behind her. Gale narrows his eyes.

"Is everything alright?"

Katniss nods jerkily. "Yes, of course. Let's go." She grabs him by the arm and marches him down the hall, her stomach tying itself in knots. Peeta's words continue to echo in her ears as they walk, her skin heating and heating until she feels as if she may melt. Worse though than the flustering thought of consummation is the stone weighing in her stomach at the thought of an annulment. Was that Peeta's way of telling me he wants to end things?

Gale glances at her and frowns. "Something is definitely wrong. What is it?"

Katniss chews on her lip and wants to ask his opinion even as she wants to die from embarrassment at the thought of discussing something like this with anyone. Gale stops walking.

"That's it. Out with it," he says and Katniss pushes down her reluctance. This doesn't just concern her, it concerns England.

"Peeta's mother has been…asking questions," she whispers and Gale's eyebrows go up.

"Oh, well, that clears everything up, thank you. What sort of questions?"

Katniss looks both ways down the hallway just in case and leans in close. Gale leans back in confusion. "Questions that Peeta believes are aimed at discovering if there are any grounds for us to get an annulment."

Gale's eyes widen in alarm. "Shit. Well, at least now we know why it's been such an uphill battle to get any help from them. They obviously think we have no chance." Katniss nods and tries not to let her in-laws lack of faith affect her, but it's hard. Does her cause truly seem so hopeless?

"Well, no matter how little they want us, they're stuck with us. There aren't any grounds for an annulment," Gale continues and Katniss cannot meet his eyes.

"Mmm," she manages and he nods.

"You're not within the prohibited degrees of consanguinity, neither one of you was married or betrothed at the time, neither one of you was forced against your will, you haven't lied about your identity or being baptized, and the marriage has been consummated," he rattles off and Katniss doesn't mean to do something to tip him off, but clearly, she does. She still won't look at him and there is a pause.

"Katniss?" he asks.

"Hmm?"

"The marriage has been consummated, hasn't it?" His voice is painfully controlled and Katniss bites her lip.

"Katniss?" he demands, voice rising. Still she cannot look at him.

"Maybe we should discuss this someplace more private than the hallway," she says and looks about for an empty room. Gale inhales sharply.

"Katniss," he says in a shaking voice and she heads towards a door that's been left ajar. She peeks into the room, sees it is empty and waves to Gale.

"Here," she says and slips inside. Gale joins her and slams the door so hard it rattles in its frame.

"Katniss!" he explodes, "It's been over a year! How have you not consummated it yet?!" She winces but still can't look him in the face.

"Do you have to be so loud?"

"Yes!" he shouts and she grimaces.

"It's not…it's not like I planned it this way. I meant to…I really did but you remember my wedding day. It was hot, so terribly hot and I was so tired from such a long day and nervous too, so…"

"So?!"

"So I asked if maybe we could wait. Peeta was tired and sweaty too, so he agreed."

Gale does not look even slightly mollified. "And what about the hundreds of days since?"

She looks down at her feet. "Well…it's not easy, bringing it up. You expect you have to do it on your wedding night, but any other night you have to…talk about it. I could never."

This, apparently, is not good enough for Gale. He throws his hands up into the air with a growl. "He's your husband! If there's anyone you can talk to about this, it's him!"

Katniss shakes her head and wishes she was having any conversation but this one. She hasn't even kissed Peeta since their wedding and now she's really supposed to ask him to come to bed with her? No, she'd die on the spot. "No," she says and she couldn't, not ever. She could never never say anything of the sort, it would be too mortifying. Gale does not agree.

"His family is the only support we have right now. If they find out, we're fucked. His mother wants an annulment and you've given her a way to get one! If she finds out, your marriage will be dissolved and we'll have nowhere to go. You think France will have us? Scotland? No! They're all Lancastrian in their sympathies if you remember!"

"I do," she mumbles and Gale starts pacing to go with his shouting.

"Unless you've had a proposal I don't know about from the King of Aragon or the fucking Holy Roman Emperor, we can't afford to lose this alliance!"

"I know that!" she finally shouts back and Gale exhales angrily. They glare at each other and he drags a hand over his face.

"I know how serious this is," she starts only for Gale to interrupt.

"Do you? Not only do we need Burgundy, but we need an heir. All this time I've thought it was bad luck you hadn't conceived, but you've been doing it on purpose. I know you don't want children, but-"

"You don't," she cuts in and he stops short. He blinks.

"What?"

Katniss bites her lip and digs her nails into her palms. "You have no idea why I don't want children. Being queen, I never wanted this. My life…it isn't even mine anymore. Everything I do or say is watched and judged and can affect the whole country. The pressure, the restrictions and the sacrifices, I don't want to have children if they have to live like this, if they're just going to be pieces in this game like I am. From the day they're born until the day they die, they'll have the weight of England on their shoulders. They won't have a childhood, not like we did, they won't get to choose any part of their future and everything they do will be about duty, their duty to England. Its bad enough I have to live like this, I can't bring children into it. Their lives won't belong to them and I can't…I can't." Katniss stares at the floor and traces the lines between the stones but she can feel Gale's heavy gaze upon her.

"Katniss," he says sounding ragged.

"I know I have to," she says and hugs herself. "I just…I just hate it."

"I'm sorry," Gale says and this surprises her enough that she looks up at him. He takes a slow step closer and places his hands on her shoulders. He doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't really have to. She knows she has to do this, she knows what's at stake and she knows that when she took the crown, this was the price she agreed to pay. She hates it; she'll always hate it, but her only other option is to forsake England and that she could never live with. She takes a shaky breath and nods to let Gale know she'll do it. He squeezes her shoulders but his eyes are so sad she looks away.

"You're right though, I have put it off far too long. England needs me. Only I...I don't…I don't know what to do," she admits in a small voice.

"You mean…sex? Or telling Peeta it's time?" he asks and her face heats up.

"Telling him," she mumbles. "My mother told me what to do before the wedding."

"Right," Gale says in relief. "Well, I suppose you've got two options. You can just march up and tell him to do his husbandly duty or you can try to seduce him." Katniss frowns deeply. Neither choice is exactly within her comfort zone. Gale notices her expression and sighs. "Or I can tell him."

Katniss feels so horrified at the thought she's surprised she doesn't die right there. The mere idea of Gale arranging this for her is so absolutely mortifying she can't even put it into words. She shakes her head.

"No, I'll do it," she whispers. "I'll do it tonight."

---

Dusk falls over Burgundy as Rory walks into the tavern.

He has never been in a tavern before and if Gale or his mother knew he was here, they'd have his head but tonight he doesn't care. It has been a long month of banishment and he is restless (and reckless). He knows he isn't supposed to be here and so tries his hardest to look as if he belongs. He stands as tall as he can, straightens his shoulders and puffs up his chest with a deep breath.

And promptly breaks into a coughing fit at the pungent smell of smoke, spilled ale and sweaty men.

He deflates in embarrassment but no one even glances in his direction. He wilts a little bit more. Rubbing at his stinging eyes, Rory takes in the sight of his very first tavern. It is crowded with people and a great many tables with a large bar at the far end of the room. It is warm, almost too warm, from a crackling fire in the hearth and he can barely hear himself think over all the noise. Voices overlap in so many different languages, tankards clunk on wood surfaces, laughter rumbles and a tipsy minstrel plays in the corner, his notes not quite right. There are dice games and card games being played at various tables, money changes hands and pretty girls in tight dresses sway through the room with welcoming smiles and eager hands. Alcohol, gambling and lust, this is like everything they warn you about in church in one room.

Mum can never know I was here

There is an angry grunt behind him and suddenly he is shoved sideways. He stumbles over his feet and nearly hits the chair of a bearlike man to his left as someone pushes past him into the tavern. Said bearlike man barks at him in a foreign tongue and Rory flushes at how stupid he must have looked gaping in the doorway. This is going well. I bet Gale never looks this daft. Rory shuffles over to the window, the glass panes foggy. He leans against it and feels condensation soak into his sleeve.

Alright, I've taken the plunge, now what?

He doesn't know where he should sit or what he should order and wait, had he even brought any money? No, he hadn't. He was an idiot. Perfect, bloody perfect. Now what am-

His eyes catch on a pretty young woman with long auburn hair and then he burns as she perches on some man's lap. The man grins and soon they are kissing, long, open-mouthed and right out in the open. Rory's eyes widen as he blushes. No one behaves like this at court. Maybe I shouldn't be here, I have no ide-

"Rory? Rory! Over here!" comes a familiar cheery voice. Rory turns in bafflement and it's Thom, sitting alone at a table on the opposite end of the room. This is terrible, but also a terrible relief. Thom grins when he notices Rory's gaze on him and waves. With a purpose finally, Rory walks to Thom and does his best to look entirely comfortable. He does not gawk at card games he is not allowed to play, he does not grow hot at the sight of exposed skin and he is definitely not concerned that someone might decide he is too young and throw him out. Thom is practically beaming over the rim of his ale and Rory flops in the chair across the table from him.

"Funny running into you here," Rory says in a very steady, totally blasé and manfully deep voice. Thom's grin somehow grows.

"Even funnier running into you here."

Rory scowls. "I'm here all the time."

"Oh, I'm sure," Thom says and chortles into his ale. Rory offers him a sneer. Thom continues to smirk infuriatingly over his pewter tankard and Rory makes a point of ignoring him. Hoping he looks impressively disinterested, Rory peers around the room. There is a man in rolled up shirt sleeves wiping the bar while a group of men swing and sway off to the left and a woman with half lidded eyes and a plump smile leans against the counter. Thom snickers.

"Fancy yourself a bawd?" he teases and Rory's ears burn. He opens his mouth but stops short when he fully processes what Thom's said.

"She's a prostitute?" he whispers and Thom laughs.

"Of course, all the women here are."

Rory's eyes open wider and he looks around in surprise. "Really?" he asks and leans towards Thom. Thom rolls his eyes.

"Yes. And you don't need to be so furtive, it's not a secret."

Rory settles back in his seat and hopes the dim lighting disguises his blush. Drinking, gambling and prostitution, Mum and Gale are really gunna kill me if they find out.

"I can see you come here often," Thom says obnoxiously and Rory, always short tempered when mocked, glares and clamps his teeth shut to keep from saying something dumb.

"So why are you here?" Thom asks in a slightly less annoying voice. Rory separates his teeth and allows words to come out.

"I was bored."

Thom nods, takes another gulp of ale and then grins. "Does Gale know you're here?"

"He doesn't need to," Rory snaps. "If I'm old enough to be considered a traitor to the crown and exiled, I am old enough to go to a tavern." He expects Thom to argue, to say something like 'no, you're still a kid', just like Gale probably would, but he merely raises his tankard in a sort of salute.

"Ah, teenaged rebellion," he sighs almost wistfully and Rory makes a face.

"Oh shut up, you're nineteen."

"Exactly, I've outgrown my adolescent woes."

That is so ridiculous Rory doesn't even bother to answer. He slumps in his seat and Thom's eyes go wide. "Bugger," he mumbles, looking somewhere over Rory's shoulder. Rory turns with a frown.

Only to get a face full of bosom.

He makes a sound, an embarrassing, undignified sound and throws himself backwards so fast he nearly topples from his chair. Thom laughs but tries to cover it with a cough and the woman Rory'd gotten a face full of smiles and perches on the edge of the table. Another woman sways over to Thom but Rory barely notices as the woman before him leans forward and strokes his face. An awful heat boils beneath his skin and the woman coos to him in a language he can't understand.

(though, to be fair, with the way his brain's come to a full stop, she could be speaking English for all he knows)

Thom says something discouraging in what might be Flemish but the women merely giggle. The woman before Rory leans towards him as she continues to say things in a language that might also be Flemish, her tone teasing, and Rory tries to say something, anything but his tongue seems to have fallen from his head. She laughs and drags the hand from his face over his jaw, dances it across his neck and then presses her palm against his chest. Thom says something again, his tone firm, but neither woman seems to notice. Rory's runs a thumb over his lower lip and says something in a low voice and though he cannot understand the words, the tone tells him exactly what she's offering.

There are several reasonable responses Rory could make, in either acceptance or rejection, but sadly, he makes none of them.

"I'M MARRIED!" he bellows in a hideously loud voice and at a pitch he would not have thought himself capable of reaching. In the horrifying silence that follows, Rory blushes worse than ever, genuinely contemplates crawling into the fire and the woman blinks at him before pulling back. She asks something Rory can't answer and Thom clears his throat. He talks to both women in their own language and Rory very much wants to launch himself out the nearest window. A simple 'no' would've done it; you didn't need to shout like a lunatic!

Both women leave and Rory stares studiously down at the table top. I'm never going out in public again.

"That was very well done," Thom says with a barely held in snicker and Rory very much wants the ground to swallow him up forever. Why did he have to shout like that? What is wrong with him?

"Oh don't feel too bad, it was very romantic. How lucky for your wife to have such a loyal husband." Rory cannot see Thom's smirk, but he can feel it. Worse, he can feel his embarrassment triple at the thought that this debacle has anything to do with Philippa. It doesn't, of course it doesn't. He is not romantic.

God, if Philippa ever found out he'd acted like such a madman...

"I'm-I'm married. Married people shouldn't...they're not supposed to-"

"No," Thom agrees when Rory can't get out any further words, "they're not supposed to. But I think we both know they do." Rory doesn't know what to say to that, so he says nothing. He kicks the table leg even though he really wants to kick himself.

"So, have you kissed the fair maid yet?"

For moment, Rory has no idea what Thom is talking about. He frowns, his eyebrows draw together and what fair maid? Realization slams into him and he jerks his head up in horror.

"No! N-no, of course not! Why would I-No, no. Kiss Philippa? No."

Thom laughs and Rory's skin is molten hot and probably melting off his face. He definitely should have thrown himself from the window, or perhaps the roof. He closes his eyes, dreads Thom's next question and then a hand clamps down on his shoulder.

If Rory had been burning before, he is ice cold now.

"I'm sorry; you can't possibly be my brother Rory, can you? I mean, he'd know better than to be in a tavern, wouldn't he?" Gale asks and Rory grimaces. Thom grins.

"There you are. I was wondering if you'd forgotten me."

"Sorry, my meeting with Katniss went longer than I thought it would. Now," Gale says and leans down to Rory's level, "what are you doing here?" Rory cringes. I am so dead.

"Nothing," he mumbles and Gale gives him an unimpressed look.

"Really? You know what Mum would say if she was here."

"Well, she's not," Rory says and means it to come out defiant but it sounds rather pathetic instead. Gale pauses and squeezes his shoulder.

"That doesn't mean her rules don't apply. You know you're not supposed to be here."

Rory doesn't answer and can't look at Gale, so he glares across the room instead. Gale sighs.

"Alright, time to go."

Rory exhales angrily, embarrassed at having been caught and annoyed at being bossed around like a baby. He's fourteen, not four.

"Don't be too hard on him, he didn't actually do anything," Thom says helpfully which makes Rory instantly suspicious. "He didn't have a drop of alcohol, he didn't partake in any gambling and he scared away the only prostitutes that came by."

Gale, who Rory knows isn't a virgin and who has definitely given into lustful urges (though not recently, being as disgustingly in love as he is), looks so appalled at the mention of prostitutes you'd think he was an old lady nun. He stares at Thom in a moment of horrified silence, his fingers digging painfully into Rory's shoulder.

"You let him talk to prostitutes?" he hisses and Thom rolls his eyes. Rory scowls. It's like he's not even here.

"They came to us, what was I supposed to do? Pitch him out the window? I told them to leave but I think they thought I was playing hard to get. They only took me seriously when Rory starting shouting."

Rory feels his face heat up at the reminder of his mortifying reaction and Gale takes a moment to compose himself. "Okay, well, now we're definitely getting out of here."

"And leave me to drink alone?" Thom asks. Gale rolls his eyes.

"I won't be long. And next round's on me, how about?'"

"Hmm," Thom says and strokes his chin. "Make it two and I may contemplate forgiving you."

Gale snorts and pulls Rory up. "Come on, let's go," he says and steers Rory towards the door. Rory can feel eyes following him out and burns with shame. This is humiliating. They step outside and the sky is velvety dark, the air brisk, especially after the warmth of the tavern, and Gale keeps a hand on Rory's shoulder. That's even more humiliating.

"So I'm not even allowed in, but you can spend all night getting sloshed with Thom?" he demands and Gale nods.

"Yes. I've had a very long, terrible day and I'm an adult, which means I get to do what I want. You don't. You do what Mum says and even though she's not here, we both know what she'd say."

Rory kicks the road. "That's not fair," he says and hates how dumb and childish he sounds. Gale shrugs.

"That's the way of the world unfortunately for you." He suddenly gives Rory a shove. "And maybe next time you want to do something you know Mum'll kill you for, you might want to think of me. Because Mum'd kill me too if she ever found out. I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on you." Gale's voice is teasing, his hand drops from Rory's shoulder and Rory knows this means he isn't going to be in real trouble. He should make a witty retort or crack a joke, but he can't. He is angry, angry under his skin in a way he doesn't understand. Yes, it was embarrassing to be dragged out like that, but he'd gone there knowing he wasn't allowed. He should let it go but that restlessness (recklessness) is pounding in his bones and he is so angry. This exile is driving him mad.

"Adult or not, Mum'd be pretty angry if she knew you were spending all night in a den of gambling, drinking and lust."

"Maybe, but to be fair, I wasn't going to be gambling or lusting," Gale says, still joking around, and Rory wishes deep down he could join him. He doesn't.

"No, you save the lust for your dreams," he mutters and kicks a rock down the street. Gale looks at him sharply.

"What?"

Rory snorts. "We all know about your dirty dreams, you're not exactly quiet."

"Shut up," Gale says and shoves him again.

"I wonder how Madge would feel about her starring role," Rory says and feels awful for the pained look on Gale's face. He should stop now, but he can't. "I wonder how her betrothed would feel about it."

Even in the dark Rory can make out Gale's wretched expression and feels his stomach twist. Why am I doing this? He wants to apologize immediately but can't manage to force out the words. He is an arse and he has never been good with feelings, but he knows that was out of line. He should say something, anything but there is something tight and writhing in his chest, something that swallows the apology he knows he should make. The silence between them is tense and uncomfortable and Rory knows it's his fault.

"I don't give a shit what he thinks," Gale finally says, somewhat more forcefully than probably intended, and Rory wants to be sick. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"And Rory? I know you're pissed at me for dragging you out of there, I know you're bored and frustrated and you miss home. I get it, trust me. I am beyond furious that we're stuck here, that the Burgundians won't help us and that we've left everyone behind. There is nothing I want more than to go home. But you can't go wandering off at night in a strange city all on your own. It's not safe and I need you safe, okay?"

Rory feels worse than ever and nods. "Okay."

It is silent again as they continue to walk and Rory wants to kick himself. Why did he say that? And why isn't Gale mad at him? He should be. Rory wants him to be. It would be better than wounded and understanding. Thunder grumbles above them and Rory stares down at his feet. I hate this; I want to go ho-

"So, why were you shouting at prostitutes?"

Rory's eyes widen and his cheeks burn. "I wasn't," he says even though they both know that's a lie. Gale smirks in that evil way he's perfected and Rory has to consciously fight the urge to run away.

"Really? Cause that's not what I heard."

"Shut up."

"I don't think so; this is definitely a story I want to hear."

"I hate you."

"Uh huh. So why, and also what, were you shouting?"

The rain comes then, pouring down in sheets over their heads and Rory takes the opportunity to flee. Gale runs after him with a laugh. They fly down the streets as lightning crackles overhead and Gale has clearly forgiven him his awful slip of the tongue.

Rory's glad.

(except maybe he isn't)

---

Katniss hesitates before their bedroom door.

The hall is thankfully empty and Katniss stands there, her palms growing sweaty. She knows what she has to do, she knows how important it is and yet still she hovers, not quite able to open the door and walk inside. This is ridiculous. You have fought and won wars, this cannot be what beats you. Even with those strong words, Katniss continues to hesitate. She does not feel like a queen or a knight, she feels silly and shy and so nervous she may vomit.

If you don't do this, Gale will. Is that what you want?

That horrifying thought gives her strength if not courage and she grabs hold of the door handle. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and opens the door. The knots in her stomach seem to dance as she steps into their room, her skin growing uncomfortably hot as her gaze finds Peeta. He is sitting at the little desk by the window and writing diligently as candlelight bathes him in gold. She shuts the door without looking away and his head pops up, his blue eyes meeting her gray. For a moment, she forgets how to speak. Peeta drops her gaze.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, "if I made you uncomfortable."

She lurches forward. "No! You didn't. I'm...I'm sorry I ran away."

He meets her eyes again, his expression cautious, and she swallows. Her hands itch to fidget and she grits her teeth and forces them to remain still. Stay strong, you can do this.

"I do not want an annulment," she announces as firmly as she's able and surprise washes over Peeta's face. He stares at her and something furious begins in her chest. Katniss does her best to ignore it.

"Oh," he says softly and nods slowly. He bites his lip. "I do not want an annulment either." Katniss feels that thing in her chest grow more frantic. She takes an unsteady step closer to him.

"Good. I'm...I'm glad we're in agreement," she says and Peeta nods again. He licks his bottom lip and Katniss watches, though she's not sure why. She inches closer. Peeta clears his throat.

"I've been writing letters to prominent lords and merchants here; anyone with money or influence who might help us," he says and looks down at his papers. Katniss continues to creep nearer.

"That's...that's clever," she says in a frustratingly wobbly voice.

"It's all I can think to do if my parents are going to remain obstinate. You do the war, I do the negotiating, that was the deal. I need to uphold my end."

"You will," she says and this is it. You've won wars; you can ask your husband to do his husbandly duty. "But there is something else we both need to do."

The words come in such a breathless rush they are nearly slurred and she puts a shaking hand on his shoulder. He jumps at her touch and Katniss starts to pull back in embarrassment, but before she can, Peeta covers her hand with his. His is warm, or at least, he always makes her feel warm. He lets out a shuddery breath. "And what...what is that?"

Katniss wishes she had a glass of water. "We must..." She pauses and takes a deep breath. "We must provide England with an heir." There. I said it. Peeta's fingers tighten around hers.

"Are you sure?" he asks but does not look at her. Katniss nods.

"Yes. It is our duty."

"Our duty. Yes...yes, our duty," he mumbles as his hand falls from hers. Katniss blinks in confusion and he stands. He walks to the bed and her hand slides from his shoulder, her stomach turning over.

"I'm...I'm not sure that's the best idea," Peeta says and fiddles with the edge of the bedspread. Katniss frowns.

"Why not? England needs an heir, as do I."

"I know," he says, still without looking at her. "I just don't think now is the best time. If I do manage to gain enough support for an invasion, you must lead it. You are our most talented warrior and our figure head; we cannot do it without you. But if you are with child, especially England's heir, you cannot fight."

Katniss feels his logic settle over her and he's right. She cannot lead her men while swollen with child. Relief washes over her, but under that is something else, something she can't quite name. She'd say disappointment, but it can't be that. She shakes her head and focuses on the relief.

"Oh, oh yes you're right. I hadn't, I didn't think of that."

Peeta peeks up at her through fine lashes and she feels oddly tingly. And then Gale's angry voice intrudes in her mind. You need to consummate this marriage! We need an heir! Katniss chews on her lip.

"Alright, I guess um...as soon as England's ours again, we..." She cannot finish and Peeta nods.

"Yes, as soon as."

There is nothing more to say and Katniss almost wishes there was. She leans back against his empty chair while Peeta continues to play with the bed covers and someone needs to break this heavy, unbearable silence. She feels hot, unpleasantly so and the longer this quiet drags on, the more embarrassed she feels. She cannot think of anything to say, but thankfully Peeta does. He always knows just what to say.

"Well, it's getting late. We should probably turn in."

Katniss nods gratefully. She is more than happy to move, to do something and to put this conversation behind them. He is standing by her side of the bed and her elbow grazes his stomach as she brushes by him on the way to fetch her nightgown. The contact causes words to suddenly come pouring out of him.

"I can sleep somewhere else, if you'd rather," he blurts and she looks at him in surprise. He is staring at the floor, his cheeks a pretty pink and she means to say something reasonable, but instead

"No!" she nearly shouts and burns from her hair to her toes. Peeta looks up at her and she burns worse at his wide eyed shock. This time it is her turn to stare at the floor and she focuses on her boots as she clears her throat.

"I mean, you don't have to," she mumbles and by staring at her feet she notices his shuffling.

"I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable," he says and sounds as flustered as she feels.

"I wouldn't. I...I sleep better when you're here," she confesses and is fairly certain she's about to die of mortification. She closes her eyes and knots her fingers so tightly it hurts.

"Oh," Peeta breathes, his voice soft with wonder, and Katniss chances a look at him. His lips are parted, his cheeks a dark, dusty pink and his eyes wide and so very, very blue. A sudden horrible thought occurs to her.

"Unless you'd rather sleep somewhere else, in which case you definitely should," she hurries out, her words almost tripping over each other. She cringes and can't look at him.

"I don't," he says very softly. "I...I sleep better with you too." She is winded by the blow of those words and for a moment her tongue is incapable of forming a single word. Finally, she manages a very strained "Okay."

She cannot come up with anything else and again, silence fills their room. She does not know why his words have landed so heavily, after all, had she not admitted the same thing? And yet she feels warm all over, her chest feels very unsettled and the world itself seems to have tipped just slightly sideways. Everything is exactly the same except not and she can't even explain why. Peeta takes a deep breath and moves away from her, walking over to his side of the bed. He gathers up his bedclothes and she does the same, her fingers curling in the cool material of her nightgown. They stand in opposite corners and almost as one, they turn to stare at their respective walls. She fumbles with her laces, her fingers unusually clumsy, and she is more aware than ever of him undressing just across the bed from her. Her skin seems to heat further and something truly unwelcome begins in her stomach, but she pushes it down.

She crawls beneath the covers and Peeta slides in a moment later, the tension between them thick like a castle wall. She bites her lip. Nervous energy makes her left leg shake and Peeta fidgets his fingers beneath the covers, plucking and pulling at his nightgown. They cannot stay like this and because she has always been better with actions, she scoots a small bit closer to him. Peeta has the same idea and they knock shoulders, the two of them freezing. Her eyes slide to the right and his to the left and their gazes meet. An almost grin touches his mouth and she can feel it touching hers as well. He laughs and she shakes her head. He opens his arms, his grin wider still, and Katniss moves into them without hesitation. Her body melts into his even as sparks sizzle in her brain and she closes her eyes as she feels him relax.

Alright, you did it. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but you did it. It's-

Oh no

I have to tell Gale

---

Rory glowers at his ceiling.

He cannot sleep, even though it is a cloudy, rainy night with little light and even though the sound of rainfall has always lulled him to sleep before. He is tense with folded arms as he lies in bed, the night's events pressing down on him. He does not understand why he is so moody, why he is dealing so much worse with this than everyone else. He keeps seeing the look on Gale's face and hates himself. Why did I say that? Why did I have to push so hard?

I'm an arse, a total, total arse.

Strangely, it bothers him nearly as much that Gale forgave him so easily. A normal person would be angry, wouldn't they? Rory knows he would be and it just makes him feel like an even bigger arse that Gale is so...so saintly. Why can't he be normal instead of towering over Rory like he's an ant? He feels resentment in his gut but he doesn't want to resent his brother, so he forcefully pushes all thought of Gale from his mind. Unfortunately, that leaves him free to think of Philippa. Specifically, Thom's stupid words about Philippa.

Have you kissed the fair maid yet?

Rory does not want to think of Philippa and certainly not about kissing her, but the poisonous thought lingers. Now that Thom has brought it up, Rory cannot curb his imagination. He remembers men holding women in the tavern but sees now himself holding Philippa, her glossy dark hair flowing down her back. Ice blue eyes look at him in the same sultry way as the women in the tavern had, but this time he feels no alarm. Philippa touches his face with soft fingertips and he looks at her pink lips-

NO.

Rory rolls over and presses his face into his pillow in frustration. Why is this happening? She's Philippa! Terrible, annoying, obnoxious Philippa! He hates her! Alright, perhaps not hate. But certainly strongly dislikes! Yes, she may be the only one who understands how he feels about Haymitch and yes it is nice that he never has to guard his tongue around her, but that isn't because he likes her! It's because he doesn't. He doesn't care what she thinks of him, which is why he can be himself without worry. Yes, that's exactly it. And even if he can admit that she has the occasional admirable trait (courage, incredible horsemanship, wit, loyalty), they most certainly do not cancel out her many negative traits (stubbornness, a violently sharp tongue, being a generally magnificent pain in the arse). She might not be hideous, but then most people aren't. He does not want to kiss her, he does not enjoy how soft and warm her fingers are when they touch him and it's a good thing too, for she'd mock him mercilessly if he did. No, he doesn't like her, he isn't attracted to her and everything is Thom's fault. He'd brought this awfulness up, he'd put the horrid thought in Rory's head and it is entirely his fault that Rory is thinking and feelings things about Philippa.

You are too good a person to waste your sorrow on a man like Haymitch

The memory comes uninvited and Rory cannot help recalling how warm he'd felt in that moment, how strangely close he'd felt to Philippa. He can feel too the pressure of her hand squeezing his arm in solidarity, in comfort and damn it, Thom! Rory pushes his face deeper into his pillow and because no one is there to hear him, he lets loose a string of whispered curses his mother would surely box his ears for. It helps a little. He sighs and tries to settle into sleep. Everything is fine, he tells himself, just forget about Thom's stupid wrongness and clear your mind.

Philippa moves her hands to his face, her fingers soft on his cheeks.

"Then burn Rory. And know I shall burn with you."

"Damn it, Thom!"

---

The next morning Gale takes one look at her and knows.

"Damn it Katniss," he swears and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. Katniss scowls at him. "You know how important this is!"

"Yes, I do," she snaps and crosses her arms over her chest. He glares at her.

"And yet?"

"We talked about it," she says and hates the odd pitch of her voice, "and we decided it'd be wiser to wait." Gale flaps his arms.

"How could it be wiser to wait?!" he demands in much too loud a voice. Katniss winces and gestures at him to quiet down.

"Shhhh," she hisses. "Do you want everyone to know?"

Gale inhales sharply and exhales with a rumbly roar in his chest. His cheeks are stained with his aggravation but when he speaks again, his voice is somewhat more reasonable. "So? How did you two come to this terrible conclusion?"

"Our end goal is to retake England. I can't lead an army if I'm several months pregnant, can I?"

Gale's left eye twitches but she can tell by the clenching and unclenching of his jaw that he knows she's right. She tries not to look too smug.

"Fine," he bites out, "but as soon as we've won-"

"I know," she interrupts. "As soon as."

He glowers for a few moments more and then shakes his head. "This is fucking ridiculous," he curses under his breath and Katniss grimaces.

"At least it isn't your sex life everything is riding on," she mutters and Gale sends her the stink eye.

"If it was, we wouldn't be having this problem."

She sticks out her tongue. "Oh, sorry I'm not as loose as you are."

"Sorry I'm not as much a prude as you are," he retorts and they glare at each other. Katniss feels her mouth twitch; Gale rolls his eyes and grins.

"Come on, you can beat me at archery. I know you want to," he says and she laughs.

"I do, and I will."

Gale shoves her and she laughs again, shoving him back.

---

May 1471
Beaulieu Abbey

Lady Margaret is feeling somewhat better today, well enough that she is sitting up in bed at least, and Annie sits at her bedside and reads to her. It is a fine spring day and the sunlight spilling through the window gives Lady Margaret's cheeks the illusion of colour. She is buried under blankets but still looks cold and Annie wonders if the monks might let her start a fire. And for supper, perhaps, she'll ask for hot soup. Anything to make Lady Margaret feel better.

"You have a lovely voice for reading," Lady Margaret says in a thin, reedy voice and Annie blushes. She looks down in embarrassment.

"Oh...oh, thank y-"

She is cut off by the clatter of hooves outside and several voices shouting. Her eyes widen and she is up in a moment. Annie races to the window, grabs the edge and sticks her head out.

Her heart stops.

---

December 1470
Burgundy

Katniss stares at a stone across the room with a strange stain on it, her eyes starting to glaze over. She can't be sure from so far away what that stain is and she doesn't really care, she just needs something to hold her attention. Her father-in-law Duke Charles is giving a particularly long winded speech (as is his habit) and Katniss has to keep from slumping in her seat. It is a struggle. The Duke's words flow over her in a steady but very dull hum and the puzzling stain is her only hope. Sadly, it's not a great one. Peeta sits beside her, his face frozen in polite interest. She can only guess what he's thinking of, but she knows it isn't whatever Duke Charles is saying. Peeta's brother Philip peers up at the ceiling and periodically releases a sigh, which earns a hostile glare from his mother. Katniss can sympathize but she is already on thin ice with Duchess Jeanne; she cannot afford to let her own boredom show. But really, how long can this go on?

Her thoughts start to wander which is dangerous if she wants to appear alert, so she drags her focus to Peeta's eldest brother. Another Charles, he is sixteen years older than Peeta and sits sloppily in his seat with his head hanging. He lets out a snuffly sound and Katniss blinks. He is sleeping, actually sleeping, and Katniss is so envious she might be turning green. Duchess Jeanne is red faced as she glowers at him, but as he is asleep, he is blissfully unaware. His thirteen year old daughter Mary sits stiffly beside him, her shoulders tense and her lips pursed. Her eyes bounce between her father, who seems on the verge of snoring, and her grandmother, who seems moments away from committing murder. Katniss can feel Mary's embarrassment even from across the room.

Katniss continues to stare and quite against her will, she feels melancholy assault her. As surrounded by family as she is, she cannot help but miss her own. How are you Prim? Has Coriolanus done something to you? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, forgive me. I should not have left you; I should not have made so many costly mistakes.

Katniss misses her sister so terribly and fears for her even worse. Coriolanus is a cruel, vindictive man; there is no telling what he might do to Prim. If he cannot get at Katniss, he might vent his anger on her sister. Or maybe he will try to use her to lure Katniss back to England. He might lock her up, hurt her, maybe even threaten to have her killed just to force Katniss to return.

(it would work)

Oh Prim, oh Prim. I was so determined not to send you away, but maybe I should have. At least then you wouldn't have to pay for my mistakes.

---

Katniss is still steeped in melancholy when they reach their room and she moves to the window. Somewhere in that distance is Prim and home. Someday she will return, she has to.

"Well that was painful, wasn't it?" Peeta asks from behind her. Katniss bites her lip and turns towards him.

"Not at all," she says because it is the polite thing to do. Peeta snorts and sits on the edge of the bed.

"It was endless and unnecessarily so. Do you remember anything he said?"

Katniss tries to, she really does, but there is nothing but the dull hum of Duke Charles' voice in her memory. She grimaces but Peeta grins. "Don't worry," he says. "I remember it all and he definitely didn't need to go on as long as he did."

Katniss starts to smile but stops herself. Even as Peeta grins, it feels wrong to laugh at his father. She knots her fingers. "I'm sure he thought it was all very important," she offers and Peeta nods with a fond grin.

"Oh I know he did. He's always been very...deliberate in his word choice. Did you notice my brother Charles actually sleeping through it?" Katniss nods and cannot stop herself from grinning this time. Peeta shakes his head with a laugh.

"I think my mother was trying to burn him alive with her mind. When they call him 'Charles the Bold', I think that's why," he says and Katniss snorts. Peeta's grin widens. He just looks at her for a moment and she's sure she's starting to blush. She clears her throat.

"So is there anything I need to know about what he said?" she asks and Peeta pretends to think about it.

"I don't know, are you planning on becoming a fisherman?"

Katniss taps her chin in thought. "No, I don't think so."

"Oh, well, no then. I think you're good."

"Was he really talking about fishermen for all that time?" she asks and can't quite believe it. He'd gone on for hours. Peeta nods. "Somehow, yes. I'm actually kind of impressed."

Katniss laughs fully this time and soon Peeta joins her. The comical scene of Duke Charles droning on and on about fish while his son snores and his wife breathes fire fills her up and she laughs and laughs, they both do.

She cannot remember the last time she'd really laughed, everything has been so dark.

It feels good.

---

(and it is only later that she realizes she'd forgotten all about her melancholy, all her troubled thoughts briefly tucked away)

(only Prim and Gale have ever managed to banish her misery like that)

(now it appears Peeta can too)

---

Rory is bored.

To be fair, he is bored most days in Burgundy. He is lying on his floor with his feet up on his bed and tossing a ball he'd made from scraps of leather. Up in the air and then catch, up in the air, catch. It isn't exactly thrilling. Oh sure, he could be doing something else, but he's already done those and he just can't anymore. He must be the best archer in Europe with all the practice he's got in, he's ridden around the castle more times than he could ever want to count and his swordsmanship has improved by leaps and bounds. He's spent too many hours flipping through boring manuscripts in the library and he's explored every nook and cranny of the grounds. He's even snuck into town and spent what limited funds he has on silly trinkets to bring home for his family. There isn't anything else to do and no one to do it with even if there was. And that's the real problem. He wouldn't mind doing all the same things again if he could do them with someone else, but there is no one. Katniss and Gale are always busy, he has no friends here and he's not even sure how he'd make friends if he ever found someone, because he's never needed to. Until Katniss became queen, he'd only ever seen family and even after she'd become queen, he'd still only really seen family. And he is used to a full house too, to siblings and cousins and in-laws and even a wife. There is always someone around, even when you wish there wasn't, and he cannot stand his new loneliness.

It is December, he has been here for two months and he is surely going mad.

"What are you doing?" Gale asks and Rory sits up. Gale is leaning against the doorframe, arms folded and eyebrow up and Rory tosses his ball at him. Gale catches it easily.

"Nothing," Rory says truthfully and feels himself sag. What he wouldn't give to go home…

"Well, you big slug, how about a ride?'

"With you?"

"No, with the Count of Charolais," Gale says and Rory rolls his eyes. "I need a break from listening to Duke Charles ramble on about nothing. I was so bored it's a miracle I didn't fall asleep. And it's not as if they need me anyway, all I do is try very hard to keep myself from glaring holes in Duchess Jeanne's head."

"And how's that going?" Rory asks with a grin and pushes himself up to his feet.

"Ehhhhh…"

Rory laughs and dodges his ball as Gale launches it at his head. He shoves his brother out into the hall and already, he feels as if he is flying.

He is not meant to be alone.

---

The sky is a gray smear overhead as Rory pounds through the woods, his horse surging through the trees. He laughs to the wind and tugs the reins as he reaches a large oak tree in the center of the path.

"Victory!" he declares and twists around to look at Gale, who feigns a look of surprise.

"I wasn't aware we were racing," he says and Rory rolls his eyes.

"You're only saying that now cause you lost."

Gale opens his mouth but he is interrupted before he can get out a word. "Sir Gale!"

He and Rory both turn to see a group of well dressed men cantering over, their every item of clothing glittery with gems. Rory frowns and does not recognize any of them, but by the way Gale's shoulders stiffen, he obviously does. They are all dressed in sable cloaks and velvet caps, and whoever these men are, they must be very wealthy. Gale inclines his head.

"Lord Robert, how nice to see you," he says and Rory tries not to make a face at how insincere he sounds. Lord Robert appears not to notice.

"A lovely day for a ride is it not?" he asks and Gale nods.

"Indeed," he says and Rory wonders if he's aware of how much he sounds like a plank of wood. "And this is my brother Sir Rory, Marquess of Dorset." Rory inclines his own head and smiles in greeting and though he's behind Gale and can't see his expression, he is sure his own is far more natural than whatever Gale's managed. Lord Robert and his compatriots exchange confused looks.

"A marquess? Is that not a step above an earl?"

"Technically, yes," Gale begins and then Lord Robert is talking again.

"So how is your younger brother a marquess while you are only an earl?"

Gale leans back in his saddle and doesn't answer, though Rory doesn't blame him. What exactly is he meant to say? If he mentions how Earl of Salisbury was an inherited title while Marquess of Dorset was gifted to Rory by Katniss, they will want to know why Rory was given higher honour than Gale. Isn't Gale Katniss' right hand? Isn't Gale the renowned knight and champion of Yorkists hopes? Is that a lie? Or is Katniss an ungrateful and rather foolish ally to have? He won't want to insult Rory either, by suggesting that it is a meaningless title or that Rory only earned it by being of the Queen's blood. There is one other explanation, that Gale was going to marry Madge Undersee and become Duke of Bedford and one day Duke of Clarence, but he doubts Gale will use it. Madge is not a topic to be discussed with acquaintances. Rory decides he will have to come to the rescue.

"It's because I'm much better than him at everything," he says loftily and the group of Burgundians guffaw. They are laughing at him, rather than with him and it stings, but he cannot let it show. He continues to grin as the mocking laughter continues.

"Is that so?" another man asks, the long feather from his hat wilting down to his chin. Rory nods.

"Of course. Shall I demonstrate?"

"Rory-"

Rory ignores Gale's warning tone and snaps his reins, his horse already charging into the trees. Gale is a shining star, one who burns so bright Rory has always been eclipsed. Is it really so hard to believe he might best Gale in something? Anything? He is a good horseman, he always has been, and he handles Chanceuse with confident hands. The horse twists along the narrowing path with ease and Rory feels his heart pound, his blood hum and he is not just a less impressive version of Gale. He is Ror-

There is a snake in the path, Chanceuse slams to a stop and Rory has a second to think oh shit.

And then he is flying.

He lands side first in a thorny bush and crunches through branches until he thuds to the ground. He lies there for a moment, his clothes caught and his right leg tangled up at an awkward angle, and takes a moment to breathe. His heart beats so hard in his chest it feels as if it may rupture.

"Rory!" Gale shouts in panic and Rory forces himself to sit up. There is a great snapping of branches as he moves and he throbs in most places, but he doesn't think anything's broken. Except his pride of course. Gale charges over with wild eyes and the rich men come riding slowly after. Gale leaps off his horse before it's even stopped moving and hurries to Rory's side.

"Jesus Rory! Are you alright?" Rory winces and wishes he could dissolve into the earth and disappear.

"I'm fine," he mutters and almost wishes he'd been knocked out so as to avoid facing this humiliation. Lord Robert stops his horse and leans forward with a condescending smile.

"Quite the impressive display," he says and all the men laugh. Rory is set aflame with shame. Another man, one Rory never wants to know the name of, calls out between chortles "I suppose titles in England are not given out on merit!" More laughter follows, more ridicule and Gale glares.

"He is an excellent rider," he defends hotly, "something must have spooked the horse."

"Such a loyal brother," someone says in genuine admiration and Rory is so humiliated he wants to die. He had tried to show off, tried to snatch a bit of glory for himself, just once, and instead he had made a complete fool of himself. They'd known from the moment they'd seen him that he would not, could not, measure up to Gale and they were right. He is not Gale, he will never be Gale.

"Forgive us, Sir Gale. We meant no offence," Lord Robert says and Gale tightens his jaw. These men, they must be potential supporters, so Gale cannot afford to offend them. He nods curtly and pulls Rory to his feet.

"Does the young lad need a physician?" someone asks and Rory cannot look any of them in the eye.

"I'm fine," he mumbles and wonders if Gale is ashamed of him. His brother is good at everything and everyone sings his praises; Rory knows he is nothing in comparison to that. He is not the hero Vick and Posy look up to, he is not the husband Philippa dreamed of and he is no champion that will rescue England.

He is nothing but the shadow trailing in Gale's wake.

---

Rory lies in bed and stares into the darkness.

He feel sick thinking of today and he knows he shouldn't be surprised at what happened. Gale has always been his hero, his inspiration and even if he'd dreamed of the day he might stand taller than his brother, deep down he's always known he wouldn't. Gale is the hero; Gale is the pride of the Hawthornes. Rory isn't. He will never be as handsome, as brave, as cunning, as talented. He will never be good enough.

It is time he accepted that.

---

May 1471
London

Prim looks out her window at London as it goes about its day and how strange that everything here looks so normal when she knows somewhere in the distance a battle is raging that will determine the fate of England.

Oh Katniss, please win, please please win

Her beautiful baby, only a week old, snuffles in her arms and Prim smiles down at him. Her son is the sweetest, loveliest baby in the world and Prim feels tears burn her eyes as she kisses his smooth little forehead.

"We'll be okay, I promise. We'll be safe; somehow I'll keep you safe."

---

January 1471
Burgundy

It is a brand new year and as much as Katniss wants to deny it, she knows they are no closer to returning home. It is so frustrating she could scream, but she is not the only one. Gale, so like her in so many ways, is just as angry. They spend more time than they probably should stewing in that anger.

"I just don't understand," he growls after yet another talk with Peeta's parents that was as useful as slamming her head against a stone wall. "Do they not remember the terms of your marriage treaty?"

Katniss cannot answer, for she is just as confused. Her marriage to Peeta was supposed to guarantee aid in the event of a Lancastrian restoration and yet her in-laws continue to waffle. It is infuriating. She throws herself down onto a bench and crosses her arms. Gale continues to pace and pace and pace. Katniss watches him and there is a solution niggling at the back of her mind, one that turns her stomach for reasons she can't explain. She isn't sure she wants to say it, but her duty is to England. It must always be to England.

"Peeta...Peeta offered me an annulment," she whispers and Gale stops his pacing so abruptly he nearly trips over his own feet. He turns to her with wide eyes. She keeps talking even as she feels sicker with every word. "He thinks I should marry someone else, someone who can be of more help."

Gale gapes at her and she squirms. "Damn," he breathes and shakes his head. Katniss frowns.

"Do you...do you think I should?" she asks and is so frightened of his answer she wants to suck the question back down her throat. But why? Why does she care so much?

"No," Gale finally says after a painfully long moment of contemplation. "I can't think of anyone better off the top of my head and Peeta's more than just an alliance with Burgundy. You need a husband who won't try to usurp your power and won't protest you leading us in battle. And we need someone good with negotiations. As much as I want to wallop his parents, he's exactly what we need."

Katniss nods, reassured. Not, admittedly, that she knows exactly why.

"And, I mean, he's also stupid in love with you. How many queens can say that about their husbands?"

Katniss stares at him. "What?"

Gale blinks at her. "What?"

"What did you just say?" she asks and hears her voice shake. Gale frowns.

"That Peeta loves you and that's lucky because most queens can't say the same?"

Katniss burns. "That isn't...he doesn't," she struggles to get out and Gale's eyes widen.

"You can't be serious. Are you really telling me you haven't noticed? He isn't exactly subtle."

She feels as if she's leapt directly into a fire. She shakes her head and stands, every part of her quivering. "You're wrong, he...he doesn't. I...I have to go."

"Katniss," Gale calls but she is already running away. Her heart is pounding, her skin is so hot she could be a furnace and Gale can't be right. Peeta doesn't...he doesn't.

Does he?

---

Small white snowflakes swirl past his window and Rory barely feels the chill as he stares out into the night. His room is dark and his breath fogs up the glass as he breathes, but he cannot be bothered to light a candle or to pull a blanket around himself. He feels heavy, tired and his mind sinks deep into memories of happier winters spent before the world came crashing down around them.

The whole family used to gather around the fire on nights like tonight and his mother would regale them with fantastical stories of snow fairies and winter pixies. Rory and his siblings would listen in awe as they gorged on warm pie and snuggled together under mountains of furs and blankets, believing every word that came from their mother's lips. Rory manages a faint smile now, his chest aching with a familiar throb.

Will I ever see you again? Mum, Posy, Vick?

In the daylight hours they'd roll in the snow, squeal as they slid down the sliding hills their father would build and construct massive forts from which they'd wage war. Vick and Rory always against Posy and Gale with their father as judge; they'd spend endless hours laughing and besieging each other's walls. Posy and Gale always won (because they always cheated) and Rory would throw a tantrum every time, because he was nothing if not a sore loser. I wish I could go back there, it doesn't matter if I always lose. At least we were all together; at least there wasn't this bloody war.

Katniss, Prim and their parents would sometimes come to visit and everyone would argue about teams, but not when Marvel came to visit. No one wanted to be bossed around by him. Thom would always be on Gale's team if he was there and Haymitch would offer them pointers from the sidelines. When the sun started to wane his mum and Haymitch's wife Helen would come to coax them inside with hot drinks and promises of sweets, and they'd tumble in covered in snow and shivering from head to toe. Rory can remember his father's warm laughter, his mother's easy smile and Haymitch's bright eyes and feels suddenly sick.

He has tainted all my memories.

I wish I'd never met him

"Can I come in?" comes Gale's soft voice from somewhere behind him and Rory nods absently. He wants painfully to be young again, happy and with his father alive and no wretched betrayals tearing him to pieces.

You've ruined everything Haymitch

I hate you

Gale sits beside him and Rory hates that he can feel tears stinging his eyes. He hopes Gale doesn't notice.

"What are you doing sitting here in the dark?"

Rory sighs. "Thinking," he says and wants to throw himself in Gale's arms at the same time he wants to shove his brother out into the hall.

"Thinking about what?" Gale asks and Rory blows out a breath. Sorrow rises in him like a wave and he shrugs.

"Just…winter. Winter back home before…before Dad…" He cannot finish his sentence and hates the way his throat seems to close around the words. Those stupid tears threaten him again and he clenches his hands in his lap. I hate this, I hate feeling like this. Gale's arm curls over Rory's shoulders and they stare at the snow fluttering outside, words forcing their way up Rory's throat and out of his mouth without him being able to stop them.

"We'd sit by the fire and eat warm pie while Mum told all those stories about snow pixies and winter fairies," he says and sees the scene again so clearly it could be happening right in front of him. "Dad would build us sliding hills outside and we'd have snow forts and wars, always me and Vick versus you and Posy."

He can almost feel his father's hand ruffling his hair, hears his voice as he says "Come now Rory, a great knight doesn't stomp his feet in defeat! Where's my gallant boy?"

"And we always won," Gale says softly and Rory blinks the moisture from his eyes. Gale bumps his shoulder and Rory is a little boy again, whinging to his mum about what a meanie Gale is.

"Is he really so bad, darling?"

"He's a cheater Mummy, a big, mean cheater!"

"Only because you cheated. You and Posy were the worst," he says and feels the ghost of a smile touch his lips. God, he used to get so angry back then but all he wants to do now is travel back to those days. Gale shoves him.

"I never cheat!" he says with a laugh and Rory snorts.

"Hah! You always cheat," he corrects and feels the smile drop from his mouth. "We'll never do that again, will we? Even if we do go home, we'll never have those winters again. I know it's been years since Dad, but still, being here, it really hit me," he says and hates how empty he feels. I just want to go home.

"We will," Gale says firmly and wraps an arm around Rory. Rory looks at his brother with a frown and Gale's jaw is set, his eyes resolute.

"What?"

"Next winter, we'll be home again and we'll sit by the fire and eat pie and listen to all of Mum's stories. I'll build the sliding hills and we'll still have our wars, though we'll have to let Philippa and Petronella join in, they are Hawthornes now after all." Gale is trying very hard to sound confident but sounds desperate instead, the same aching desperation Rory can feel throbbing in his chest. He stares at his brother and feels the most delicate strength start to build in his bones. Gale is just as homesick and miserable as I am. He wants to be strong for me, but he's terrified. Maybe, this time, he needs me to be the hero.

"Alright," Rory finds himself saying, "but we get Philippa." He says it without really thinking and Gale smirks, his eyebrows shooting straight up.

"You want her on your team? Well, well-"

"Shut up," Rory interrupts and hates that he's blushing. Hopefully Gale doesn't notice. "It's only because Nella's too nice to be much use in a fight. If I'm going to war, Philippa's definitely the better choice."

It's true too; Philippa could probably take on the whole world if she wanted. Gale thinks about it for a moment and nods.

"Yeah, alright, point."

Rory keeps talking, determined now to drag Gale from his melancholy. It's my turn to save you. "Since I'm such a good sport, I'll take Henry," he says and Gale frowns.

"But then the teams won't be even."

Rory bites his lip. "No, I mean, Madge'll be part of the family by then, right?" he asks and peeks up at his brother. Gale blinks in surprise before smiling more genuinely than he has in months. He gives Rory a squeeze.

"Right."

"And she'll be way more useful then Henry, he's way too easily distracted," Rory continues, feeling his spirits rise as he pulls up Gale's. "Even though you're a notorious cheater, I am committed to fair play. Since I get Philippa, you can have Madge."

Gale gasps in offense but ruins it by smiling anyway. "Oh, I see. That's how it is, is it?" he asks and drags Rory over so he can mess up his hair. Rory laughs and tries to swat him away.

"That is how it is! If Vick were here he'd say the same thing, you and Posy always cheat!" he says and wiggles out of Gale's grip. Sudden inspiration hits him and he hurries over to the bed. He grabs the nearest pillow and he can tell by the grin on Gale's face that his brother knows what's coming. Gale leaps to his feet and points an accusing finger over at Rory.

"Scoundrel!" he declares and Rory hurls his pillow across the room. Gale catches it of course, but Rory isn't deterred and snatches up another from the bed.

"I'm not afraid of you, cheater!" he says grandly and winds up to give Gale a good whack. He aims low while Gale aims high and both of them strike true. Gale wheezes as Rory gets him in the stomach and Rory reels back from a hit to the face. He cackles at his winded brother and Gale grins, the shadow he's so used to feeling receding, at least for now.

Maybe...maybe I'm not so useless after all

---

Peeta munches on cheese while Katniss stares at him. He acts as if he hasn't noticed, but she is sure he has. She has been unable to stop staring ever since Gale had said those words; Peeta loves you. She's not really sure what she's looking for, but she cannot look away. Does he love her? Is that even possible?

"Do you know, my brother Philip gets terribly ill when he eats too much cheese," Peeta says and Katniss knows she should say something in return.

"Awful," she bleats and wants to slap herself. Gale's words have made her an idiot.

"It really is," Peeta agrees with a nod. "I'm quite fond of cheese."

"Me...me too," she manages and Peeta sets down his cheese and looks at her.

"Is there something on my face?"

She shakes her head quickly and drops her gaze. "No! No...I..."

"It's alright. I'd rather find out now than go wandering about with it stuck there," he says and Katniss wants to crawl into the floor and disappear.

"No, no," she mumbles. "I was just lost in thought. You're...fine."

"Oh...alright," he says and she can hear the question in his voice. Are you alright? Is there anything I can do? She wishes he weren't so kind, so caring. She wants to answer but she can't. She is afraid and she cannot figure out why.

Peeta loves you

She should just ask him but she won't. She closes her eyes and allows the silence to stretch between them. Prim had always said Katniss was the bravest person she knew, but that is obviously not true.

Courage has abandoned her.

---

The sun is bright overhead as Rory stands at the archery field, his hands quivering with anticipation. He runs his fingers over his new bow from Katniss, the wood smooth against his skin. It is mild for January and Rory taps his foot in impatience.

Come on Gale, what's taking so long?

Rory looks over his shoulder in the direction of the castle, but Gale is still nowhere to be seen. It had been Gale's idea to come out here to shoot and Rory can't help being excited. He's missed spending time with Gale and he is sorry for being so moody lately.

He looks over his shoulder again. Where are you?

---

Gale is twenty minutes late.

Waiting, alone, at the archery field drains Rory of his excitement and when his brother finally does appear, it takes more effort than it should to push off the ground and stand. Rory is ready to say something biting but the words die on his tongue. Gale is not alone. Katniss is with him and Thom, and a whole pack of men in fancy cloaks and hats Rory doesn't recognize. He sinks like a stone.

"Rory!" Gale says and lurches over. He rubs the back of his neck. "I'm sorry I'm late. We were in a meeting and we got-"

"I cannot wait to see you shoot your Majesty. I hear you're quite skilled," one man in black velvet fawns and Katniss offers a curt nod. Another man in a furred cloak reaches over and clamps a hand on Gale's shoulder.

"I hear the Lord Gale is also quite good," he says and Gale manages a tight smile. He and Katniss are both the same, neither one is very skilled at politicking. If Rory had been sinking before, he feels like he's fallen through the earth now. His fingers tighten painfully around his bow.

"Look, I know this isn't what we wanted, but Peeta thinks showing off Katniss' skills will help us gain support," Gale explains in a whisper. Rory doesn't answer and Gale squeezes his arm.

"And hey, you love showing off, right?" Gale tries to joke. Rory doesn't answer again and Gale wilts a bit. Rory doesn't want that, but then, a part of him does.

"And who's this then?" a man in a feathered hat demands and the gaggle of rich men finally takes notice of Rory. Gale turns to face them, his hand still firmly on Rory's arm.

"The Marquess of Dorset," comes a familiar mocking voice and Rory's stomach curdles. Sir Robert detaches himself from the group and continues his introduction. "Sir Rory Hawthorne, Lord Salisbury's younger brother."

"A knight! And so young!" a man in a bejewelled cape exclaims, but it is not in admiration. His tone is patronizing and Rory feels his teeth grind together. Feathered cap notices Rory's bow and smiles.

"I wonder Sir Rory, are you as talented as your brother?" Feathered hat guffaws a bit and the others join in, their twinkling eyes making it clear they know the answer is no. Lord Robert laughs the loudest and Rory had felt unpleasant before, but this, this feels like he's been stomped on. He shakes his arm from Gale's grip.

"I'm going to my room," he says and Gale frowns.

"But we were going to shoot."

"I don't want to anymore," Rory says and hates the look of confusion on Gale's face.

"Look, I'm sorry I was late and I'm sorry about...all this, but-"

"I don't care about that. I'm just not in the mood anymore," Rory snaps and despises the childishly sullen tone of his own voice. Gale frowns deeper, concern evident in every inch of him. Rory cannot stomach the sight of it. He turns and, even though he doesn't mean to, starts to stomp off. Gale grabs his shoulder.

"Rory-" he says and for a moment Rory feels as if he might explode.

"I said I don't want to anymore!" he shouts and throws his bow to the ground. He stomps on it in frustration and Gale's fingers tighten on his shoulder. Rory shoves away his hand. He is so angry he cannot stand it and he runs.

"Rory, wait!" Gale calls and rage burns in Rory like dragon fire.

"Leave me alone!" he bellows and feels furious, sad and humiliated. He runs and does not stop.

---

Rory collapses face first into his bed and screams into the mattress.

Why must everyone remind him of how inadequate he is? Why must he always be compared to Gale? Why does Gale have to be so fucking perfect?

"Rory?"

It is Gale's voice from the other side of the door, wounded and worried and Rory wants to pull out his hair. Rory was an arse, why can't Gale be angry with him? That would be better than this, the forgiving, hurt, concerned older brother. It is like everything Gale does and says is designed to make Rory feel even smaller and worse than he already does.

"Rory?" Gale calls again and Rory is furious, embarrassed and sorry all mixed together.

"Go away," he says loudly even though he doubts Gale ever would.

"Whatever's wrong, you know you can tell me," Gale says softly and of course Rory knows that. He knows how good and caring Gale is, knows how much he loves all his siblings and the lengths he would got to for them.

Rory loves his brother, but he's starting to think he might hate him too.

This time he doesn't answer and merely buries his head beneath his pillow. He thinks Gale sits out there all night, but Rory doesn't care.

(except of course he does)

---

There is a nightmarish hail storm outside so Katniss aimlessly wanders the palace halls. She spends her days showing off for potential backers but with such poor weather, she has nothing to do. And neither does Gale.

She stumbles upon him as she passes an empty room, his body hunched and his head in his hands. She pauses in the doorway and there is a part of her that wants to flee, because she has never been very good with emotions (well, unless it has to do with Prim). But this is Gale, the best friend she's ever had, she will not abandon him. She squares her shoulders and knocks softly on the doorframe.

"Gale?"

He looks up at her and God, he looks awful, when was the last time he slept? His hair is messy as if he's been running hands through it, there are bags under his eyes and even as he attempts to smile at her, she knows he'll never manage. His eyes are dark and she closes the door behind her.

"Are you okay?" she asks and he opens his mouth only to close it. He sighs angrily.

"I'm useless," he says and she frowns.

"No, you're not," she responds automatically. He glares at her.

"Aren't I? My family languishes in England and I can do nothing to help them, England itself suffers under Coriolanus while I sit here doing nothing, Peeta negotiates while you attract backers, but what have I done for our cause? My brother hates me and is clearly miserable, but I only seem to make things worse and Madge is married to Cato," he reels off and Katniss winces. She bites her lip.

"Am I useless?" she asks and he frowns.

"What?"

"Am I? I'm not much help with the negotiations; my family too is trapped in England. The country I swore by God to protect is in enemy hands and that is because I abandoned it to come here. If you wish to lay blame on someone, lay it on me."

Gale glares at her for a long moment and then curses under his breath. "You're not useless," he grumbles and she settles down beside him.

"Then neither are you. Peeta is the negotiator, so of course he is most useful now. But once he succeeds, it will be our turn. We will go to battle and we will retake England and save our families."

"I just...I just hate sitting here while they need me."

"I know. Me too."

"And Rory...it's my job to take care of him and I'm doing an absolutely shit job. Everything I say or do just makes him angrier or more sullen. He needs me to be better but I'm not, and I don't know how to be."

Katniss understands how he feels; does she not feel just the same about Prim? She pats his hand and wishes she knew the perfect words to make him feel better.

"And I'm sick for Madge. I keep promising myself and her that I'll rescue her, but every day I don't is another day she suffers with Cato as a husband. I just wish...I just wish I knew how to help everyone," he says softly and Katniss feels her chest ache.

"Me too," she says again and they lapse into silence. Katniss stares at the tight lines of his face and knows she should do something, but what?

"So how are the negotiations faring?" Gale asks and she is glad for the change of subject. Neither one of them enjoys talk of feelings and she is grateful Gale has found them a way out.

"The same as always," she says with a sigh. "The Duke does not say he will never help us but he does not say he will help us either. It is a whole lot of nothing."

Gale snorts. "Haymitch was able to broker an alliance with his mortal enemies in less time than Peeta has been able to wring help from his parents."

"He is doing all he can," she snaps and Gale blinks at her in surprise.

"I know he is. I didn't mean that as a slight against Peeta, but rather against his parents." Katniss nods and feels her cheeks burn. She looks down at the floor. Gale is quiet for a moment and then

"Are you in love with him?"

Katniss hears sudden thunder in her ears and nearly chokes on air. She turns with wide eyes to Gale and he is staring at her intently, his expression serious. She opens her mouth but can find no words and she merely sits there with her jaw hanging. His gaze doesn't waver and she burns so hot she must be spurting flames. She grist her teeth and drags up her voice, but the words she says are not the ones she'd meant to.

"What does it feel like?" she asks in a strange, small voice. Gale narrows his eyes.

"To be in love?" he asks and she nods. He looks up at the ceiling and sighs.

"It aches," he says and she cringes at her own thoughtlessness. How could she ask such a thing of Gale?

"I'm sorry," she begins but he shakes away her apology.

"But when it doesn't it feels...it feels like...like looking at a night sky full of stars." His voice is soft, his whole face is soft and Katniss is afraid to speak. "You know when you go out late late at night and you look up and all you can see for miles and miles and miles are stars?" She nods and he smiles faintly.

"It steals the breath right out of your lungs and you can't look away, you don't want to look away. It's beautiful and humbling and it leaves you wonderstruck. You feel like you could stand there for the rest of your life and never get tired. And no matter what's happening in your life, looking at that sky full of stars you feel...happy. It softens every edge and makes you feel lighter, braver. Anything's possible. It makes the whole world seem better. I suppose...I suppose that's what it feels like," he says and Katniss is surprised to feel tears on her cheeks. Gale does not meet her eyes and she leans into him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. She doesn't know what to say, so she holds him instead and hopes he can find some comfort in that.

(he does)

---

As usual, Rory finds himself struggling to fall asleep.

He is tired, his eyes sting but no matter what he does or how hard he tries, all he ends up doing is tossing and turning. He punches his pillow into a new shape and drops his head onto it, but he has little hope. Most nights in Burgundy he barely sleeps. Perhaps that is one of the reasons he always feels so foul.

He knows he has been snappish and rude, especially with Gale, he is sorry for the way he's been acting and he knows he should apologize, but at the same time, he is tired of being crushed under all of Gale's achievements. Is it really so wrong to want to be measured on his own merits?

Is it really so wrong to want to be seen as Rory before being seen as Gale's brother?

---

Katniss lies in bed and stares at the ceiling. Peeta sleeps soundly beside her, his gentle snoring usually a calming lullaby. But tonight she cannot sleep, Gale's words echoing in her mind. Love is like a sky full of stars, Madge is Gale's sky full of stars.

Is Peeta hers?

She rolls over to look at him and feels an itch in her fingers to touch his face. He looks younger in sleep and she stares at him, as if the answer to her question will appear on his skin. Moonlight turns his golden hair silver and she runs a finger along the curve of his jaw. She does not think to do it, but her fingers move of their own accord.

Do I love you?

Do you love me?

She isn't sure how she is supposed to know. Gale seems to think they love each other and being in love as he is, his opinion may have its merits but...

Katniss rolls away from Peeta, her chest feeling uncomfortably tight. Does she even want to be in love? Gale had said it himself, it ached. She has enough grief already, does she really want more? And Peeta surely doesn't love her, why would he? She is not beautiful, she is no proper lady, she is not a talented dancer or a stunning conversationalist. Those are the things her mother has always said are what a man searches for in a wife, and she has none. No, he cannot possibly love her and she...she has never thought of the night sky when she thinks of him.

That settles it then, she is not in love, he is not in love, no one is in love. And that's a good thing; she does not need to fear heartbreak now.

Madge may be Gale's sky full of stars but Peeta isn't hers.

---

Rory sits on a low wall by the water's edge and tosses a stone into the iron gray waves. The wind is not fierce, just annoying enough to blow the ends of his hair into his eyes, and his stone skips once, twice, thrice through the water. He watches it sink and gropes around for another, his fingers catching on sharp edges. He winces as one manages to break the skin and swears. He sighs as he examines the damage, bright red blood welling from a thin slash between the joints of his middle finger. He scowls.

"Well, aren't you looking foul," Thom says and leans against Rory's wall. Rory shoots him an unimpressed look.

"What do you want?" he asks dully and stares back out at the sea. Thom shakes his head.

"Gale's worried about you," he says and Rory forcefully resists the urge to turn and look at Thom.

"Is he? Funny then, that he sent you." He is being rude, petulant even but at least Thom is mature enough to ignore it.

"He's gotten the recent impression that you don't want to talk to him." Thom's tone is less than pleased and Rory tries not to cringe. He kicks his feet against the bottom of the wall and tries to figure out what to say. Thom sighs again.

"I understand, you know," he says and Rory narrows his eyes.

"Understand what?"

"I understand that your problem is Gale which is exactly why you don't want to talk to him."

Rory flinches and turns wide eyed to Thom. "That's not-"

"You love him, you admire him and you want to be just like him. At the same time, you want to be more than just Gale Hawthorne's brother. You hate always being in his shadow, always being compared to him and feeling like you'll never measure up. Sometimes, you wish you could be just Rory without being Gale's brother Rory," Thom says softly and there's an odd, faraway look on his face. He is staring off into the distance without really seeing it, his almost-blue eyes distant. Rory feels his stomach drop out and doesn't know what to say. Shame crawls over him and he kicks his heels into the wall harder than before, the pain spiking through his feet.

"It's alright you know," Thom says and turns with an understanding smile. "People like Gale have a tendency to inspire feelings like that. Curse of the stupidly gifted." He rests an easy hand on Rory's shoulder, but Rory shakes his head. He swallows and tries to push words out of his dry throat.

"Don't joke," he says, "I know I'm wretched." It pains him to say it and he drops his eyes to his lap. Thom squeezes his shoulder.

"It's not a joke. I understand how you feel, because I used to feel just the same way."

Rory looks up in surprise and Thom grins at him. "Come on then, tell me when you look at me your first thought isn't 'Gale's best friend'."

Rory opens his mouth and hesitates, his face heating with embarrassment. Thom snorts with laughter. "See? That's all anyone thinks, no matter what I do, that's all I ever am."

Rory feels cold but Thom just continues to smile. Rory shakes his head in disbelief at his good cheer. "How...how do you..."

"Bear it?" Thom asks and Rory nods. Thom grins a little wider. "It wasn't easy. Do you know, when we first met, I was the impressive one? I was married and already a baron, while Gale was just an earl's son without a wife in sight. I seemed very grown up and he used to follow me around with the rest of the boys, all of them, even some of the older ones, doing exactly as I said."

"Really?" Rory asks and can't quite picture it. Thom has always seemed like Gale's shadow, following his lead and supporting his every decision. He has never seemed the leader.

"Really," Thom says with a laugh. "We met at Haymitch's when we were nine. I may have been a baron but I was still a fatherless little boy. My wardship was given to Haymitch by Coriolanus and he was supposed to teach me how to be a knight, a lord and a man. Jury's still out on how well he did." Thom laughs but Rory can't join in. Haymitch is still a wound too raw.

"Back then, everyone sent their sons away to learn in the house of some greater lord, so there was a pack of us at Haymitch's. Officially Gale was meant to live with us too, but he didn't. I think your parents were too fond of him to send him away permanently. He'd come for a few months, leave for a few more and then come back. Still, he outshone us all very quickly. He was the best on a horse, the best with a sword and better than most at everything else. I stopped being the impressive one after that." Rory expects to hear bitterness but there is none. Thom just smiles and carries on.

"Even after we stopped needing Haymitch's lessons, Gale managed to eclipse me at everything. He was better at tournaments, better at rousing speeches and there wasn't a girl in the world that would look at me until after she'd had her fill of looking at Gale. I know I'm not ugly, but it's never flattering to be everyone's second pick."

Rory stares at him. "How...how are you still friends?"

"Best friends," Thom corrects with a grin. "Well, it wasn't easy. I used to be so...frustrated. No matter what I did, it was never enough. I was always too many steps behind him, always hidden in his shadow. He was the hero and I was just his...his sidekick. It made me angry, but it also made me feel terrible. He was my best mate and he was a good one, the best one. I felt like such a bad friend for resenting him, because I knew he wasn't doing it on purpose and he'd never want to outshine me, he just did. He's a good person, which makes it difficult to hate him, even when you kind of do. Not that he's perfect, of course, oh boy do I have stories, but he's a good man. It only made everything worse."

Rory nods and clenches his hands together, his nails digging into his skin. He loves his brother, he does, he just...sometimes he feels like he's smothering under the weight of all Gale's achievements. But Thom's right, Gale, irritatingly noble Gale, would feel awful if he knew, which almost makes Rory resent him more. He's terrible.

"And then the war came. We'd spent so many days in the tiltyard or on the tournament field believing we were brave and glorious knights who could triumph over anything, but we weren't. We were kids and suddenly we were fighting the bloodiest war our country's ever seen, against people we knew, people we'd grown up with. We were so idealistic when it started, because that's what all the stories say isn't it? That the good are always victorious and evil never prospers. And we believed, so totally, that we were the good and so we'd win. Then your father died and your uncle, the very man who'd led us into this fight in the first place, and idealism died with them. This wasn't a fairy story about brave heroes, it was a nightmare."

Gale never speaks of the war, even when Vick and Rory beg and beg for tales of valour and glory. Hearing Thom speak of it now, Rory feels impossibly young and foolish.

"There was no time to measure myself against Gale, to wonder how I looked beside him. We were fighting for our lives and for England, taking up a cause, a war, started by our parents. Everything else was far too important to waste time worrying about who was the greater knight between us. It didn't matter. What mattered was keeping the dream of Coriolanus' downfall alive, was following Katniss into battle and being there for Gale as he tried to deal with your father's loss. And when it was over, Gale told me again and again how he couldn't have done it without me, Katniss knighted me in recognition of my services and I finally realized that what the world thought didn't matter. The moment I stopped caring about their opinion and started improving myself because I wanted to be better, not because I wanted to surpass Gale, was the moment I really soared. I'm not saying I'm glad I went to war, I'm not. I wish it had never happened. I get nightmares still about all the horror and the death and I pray every day we never go back to something like that, and yet it keeps happening. What I'm saying, is I learned a very important lesson in that Hell."

"What lesson?" Rory whispers and Thom grins.

"Forget about being better than Gale and focus on being the very best you. Become the best damn knight you can, not because you want to surpass Gale, but because being the best version of yourself matters to you. Dress your best not because you want girls to think you're handsomer than him, but because you want to be able to look in your mirror and think 'gorgeous'. Do the right thing not because you want to be lauded and praised, but because you believe in those causes. Make yourself proud and you know what? That's how you make the world proud. When you stop worrying about how you measure up to him and you stop getting frustrated if you fall short, you not only feel better about yourself, you do better. And maybe you will surpass him and maybe you won't, but who cares? You know your worth and so do the people that matter the most. I'm proud about what I've done in Katniss' service and I'm proud of how much better I've gotten with a lance, I used to be dreadful. I'm proud of myself, for how I've grown and the part I've played in the Yorkist cause. Maybe I'll only ever be remembered as Gale Hawthorne's best mate but that's fine. I'm proud to be his friend and I know he's proud to be mine. That's what matters most."

Thom's voice is easy and confident, his shoulders straight and proud and Rory gazes up at him in awe. Is it really as simple as all that?

"And sure, it'll take a while before you stop comparing yourself to him, but you will get there. And you'll get to keep him too. I know you don't want to push your brother away, but you will if you keep competing. Resentment festers and it breads distance. One day, that distance will be too great to breach. So fuck everyone else's opinions, the only person you need to impress is yourself. And I promise, if you can make yourself proud, the people who love you will be proud too," Thom says and Rory finds himself returning Thom's smile with a small one of his own. It isn't the quick, easy fix he'd wanted, but its hope. He hasn't had that in a while.

Rory hops neatly off the wall and stands beside Thom, the two of them staring out in the direction of England. There's still a heavy cloud over his head, but it does feel lighter. He will be the best knight he can be. He's going to make himself proud. He matters.

"Not that that means you can't take pleasure if you do surpass him in something. I mean, I think we can all agree that I'm much funnier," Thom says and elbows him in the side. Rory snorts. The wind picks up and kisses them with sea spray and Rory bites his lip.

"Thank you, Thom," he says and means it. Thom squeezes his shoulder.

"Of course. I know what it's like to get lost in Gale's shadow and I've known you since you were a baby. I'm always here if you need me."

Rory tries to hide just how touched he is and frowns. "I don't know, one older brother's obnoxious enough..."

Thom cackles."You think Gale's annoying? You don't know annoying!"

Running away from Thom so he doesn't toss him in the sea, Rory feels the cloud over his head lighten a shade more. Thom's annoying and so is Gale, but he is lucky to have them.

And, remembering how Gale had laughed that night in Rory's room, maybe they feel lucky to have him too.

---

Katniss fidgets in her tightly laced gown and stares a hole in the door before her. Waiting has never been her strong suit. Peeta stands beside her and takes her hand, maybe to calm her, or maybe to calm himself. He does not look annoyed or impatient, as she is sure she does, but the way his fingers curl around hers tells her all she needs to know about how tense he is.

"The Duke and Duchess will see you now," an old man in Burgundian livery announces, his dark eyes and droopy face reminding her unpleasantly of Coriolanus. Peeta bows his head.

"Thank you," he says, ever gracious, and Katniss wishes she had better manners. She nods but doubts she looks as polite as Peeta; she is still unsettled by thoughts of Coriolanus and the devastation he's probably already wrought in England. They've been away too long, he could have done any manner of awful things. He is a tyrant, a monster-

"My apologies for making you wait," her father-in-law says and Katniss stops short in alarm. She hadn't even realized they'd entered the Duke's audience chamber and she quickly shakes away her scowl. Peeta bows beside her and she dips her head in acknowledgement.

(that is one benefit to being queen, she does not need to curtsy to anyone)

"We have been thinking deeply on your plight," Duke Charles begins and Katniss perks up. They need Burgundy's help, they can do nothing without it and she feels Peeta tense beside her even as his face remains the same. And that is when she notices Duchess Jeanne. Her mother-in-law sits beside her husband and smiles. It is not a nice or friendly smile, but it is a happy one. Katniss' stomach drops down to the floor. She suddenly knows what the Duke has called them here for.

"You are our son and we love you, but we do not think it will ever be prudent to support an invasion of England. We must think of our own people first and it will not be in their best interest to provoke a war with England and France."

He keeps talking but she doesn't hear a word nor does she hear any of Peeta's response. There is a roaring in her ears, a furious lion's roar mixing with her pounding blood. Coriolanus is going to be left free to ravage England as he pleases, Prim is to be trapped with him and even though the very purpose of this marriage was an alliance to protect them from Coriolanus and France, Burgundy is refusing to hold up their end of the deal. Katniss is so angry she turns on her heel and leaves. She does not offer any goodbye, she does not mask her fury or thank them or smile or pretend that she is anything other than seething.

Months they have been begging for help and Burgundy has spat in their faces. She'd only left England because she'd believed in Burgundy's promise of friendship and military aid. She'd sworn to come back with an army but now she has nothing.

Burgundy has failed her and she has failed England.

Again.

---

Katniss shoves open their door and storms into their bedroom. Peeta follows slowly and she barely resists the urge to kick over the furniture. Instead, she tugs furiously at her hairpins, her frustration only rising as strands of hair get caught. She winces but doesn't stop and Peeta closes the door. She slams each pin down on the table by the bed and finishes with fingers full of hair. Her rage only mounts.

"I'm sorry," Peeta says quietly from where he's still standing by the door. Katniss knows she should say something, but she can't. Her hands shake.

"I've failed you," he continues and she should interrupt, but she is so angry at his parents she cannot form words. She grinds her teeth together and is surprised to find curse words she's never said before bubbling in her throat.

"I think...I think it is time you consider an annulment. We can get one easily and then you can find a husband who can actually be of some use to you."

"No," she says and the word comes out much harsher than she'd intended.

"Why not?" Peeta asks in a desperate voice and is she imagining the sadness there? She does not know how to answer him, because she doesn't know why not. She isn't in love with him, she can't be. He is not the sky full of stars Gale described, so that means she can't be in love with him. And yet the thought of being without him is awful, painful even. She doesn't know what that means.

"Because…because there is no else," she says and then, without being able to stop herself, "I do not want anyone else." She's not sure what she's saying and Peeta doesn't answer. Katniss wants to turn around and look at him, but she is too afraid to see his expression. What am I doing?

"Katniss," he says in a soft voice, one deep with emotion she is too terrified to touch.

(but there is a hunger in her belly too, one burning to know just what emotion that is)

(is he in love with her?)

"Katniss, I-" He does not finish and even though she can't explain why, she feels her stomach sink. He clears his throat.

"I don't know what to do. I've tried everything, but it wasn't enough. You need someone who can help you, get you money and troops. My parents don't believe you can win a war, and I can't convince them. I don't know how..." He trails off and Katniss frowns. She waits for him to start again and when he doesn't, she finally turns to face him. He is staring off into the ceiling, his eyes wide, his mouth open and his hands so slack his hat slips from his grip to the floor.

"Peeta, what-"

"Of course!" he shouts with glee and suddenly he is the sun. His eyes glow, he beams and his whole face changes, golden radiance shining from every inch. She feels momentarily breathless. He laughs, bright, joyous, and when he looks at her, she is warmed from toes to hair.

"I'm such a fool!" he declares, all while still smiling widely. Katniss pinches herself.

"I don't understand," she admits and he laughs again.

"My parents don't believe you have the skills or the support to lead an army to victory. They are convinced Haymitch was the only reason for your triumphs. We need to show them they're wrong."

"How?" she asks, even as she can feel excitement growing within her. He is so thrilled she cannot help feeling it too. Peeta grabs her hands, his fingers sliding perfectly through hers.

"The solution's been staring me in the face the whole time. I've been having you show off your skills for knights, merchants and lords, all so they'd be impressed enough to lend us money, arms and men. We need only do the same for my parents, though on a grander scale! It is too cold for a tournament, so we shall have a contest in the great hall instead. A competition of skill in archery and one in swordplay. We will open it to every man at arms, whether English or Burgundian and I will invite all the men who've already pledged you their support. I will encourage betting and when you win, my parents will not only be forced to see how talented you are, but also just how many people are willing to bet on you."

He does not say if you win, but when you win and that faith touches her deeper than anything else. She cannot help but smile.

"That's brilliant," she says and squeezes his hands. He ducks his head in sudden bashfulness.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out."

She shakes her head. "I knew you'd figure something out. I've always had faith in that."

He looks back up at her then and the soft, sincere look in his eyes does something odd to her insides. "And I have faith in you Katniss, that you will lead us to victory and that you will lead England justly and well. I have always believed in that."

No one except Gale and Prim has ever offered her such unconditional support, but theirs has never made her feel so unsteady. There is something building within her, something she does not understand and she gropes around for something, anything, to say.

"Well," she manages and wishes her voice didn't tremble, "I suppose we should get to work. You must get planning and I should train. Gale as well, I can't have my second in command making a fool of himself."

Peeta nods and when his fingers slip from hers, she already misses the feel of them. That doesn't make any sense of course, but her hands instantly feel empty. Peeta moves off to his desk to start writing things up and Katniss lingers where she is, unsure what to do. She should find Gale, she should start training but there is something here, in this room between them, that she wishes she could explain.

She does not love him; he is not her sky full of stars. And yet...

She wishes Prim were here.

---

Peeta's contest is to be a full day affair.

Most of the day will be taken up with sword fighting, but after a break for supper will come archery. This works out well for Katniss, for archery is certainly her greatest strength and now it will be the last thing anyone sees. If she can win the contest, it will be the freshest thing in everyone's mind. Of course, there can be no if. She needs to win the archery contest, just as she needs to excel in the sword fights. She expects Gale will come away the victor in that contest (in fact, she's told him he must), but she has be close behind. They must prove to Duke Charles and Duchess Jeanne that they do not need Haymitch, that they are more than capable of winning a war on their own.

This is their last chance, they cannot falter here.

---

Rory knows he needs to sleep if he wants any chance of doing well in tomorrow's contests, but there are snakes in his gut and they do not want to quiet.

He has always dreamed of competing in and winning tournaments, but now that his chance has finally come, he feels sick. He has been practicing everyday and he has been trying as hard as he can not to think of how he'll stack up next to Gale. It isn't easy, but he is determined. He must do this for himself, not to best his brother, but to better himself. He needs to be well rested, he needs to be focused and sharp tomorrow, but no matter how much he tosses and turns, he cannot find a comfortable position.

Come on, think how impressed everyone will be if I do well. I'll be the youngest competitor, if I can finish near the top Mum, Vick, Posy, Gale, even Philippa will be proud.

I must show them what I can do.

If I don't just pass out when it gets to be my turn...

No, no I can't do that. Philippa would find out and I'd never, ever hear the end of it.

---

The morning of the contest dawns bright and cold.

Katniss is awake with the sun and she spends the few moments before Peeta rises breathing deeply and reminding herself exactly what's at stake. England, the Hawthornes, her mother, Prim and her soon to be born baby. I have to win this battle, for it is a battle. Not just against the other competitors but against the Duke and Duchess of Burgundy. This is the first battle in our war for England.

Peeta shifts beside her and she turns to see him sitting up with a yawn. "You're awake," he whispers in the gloom and she nods, all her nerves tightening. I cannot fail today, I cannot.

"I have to go make sure everything's ready," he continues and she nods again. He stands from bed and begins to change and Katniss rolls over with hot skin. She stares at the wall and tries not to listen to the rustling of cloth. All this talk of Gale's, look at me! I am a ninny. She jumps at Peeta's hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry," he says as she twists around to look at him. "Can you lace me up? I don't want to wait for someone else." She nods with a dry throat and sits up. He comes around to her side of the bed and she cannot understand why her fingers are shaking so badly. She is merely lacing him into his doublet, why does she feel so...so...

"Thanks," he says when she finishes and she nods quickly. She stares down at her hands knotted together on the ugly bird patterned bedcovers and why am I so...so...

"Katniss, I know you will carry the day. I have never doubted that."

Katniss looks up at Peeta and feels her nerves settle at his steady smile. He believes in her. Prim believes in her. And so does Gale and all the men who've come to Burgundy with her. And there are those in England who still hold true to the House of York. She does not want this for herself, she never has, but for all those who have placed their faith in her, she will be triumphant today.

She smiles back.

---

After breaking her fast and dressing, Katniss makes her way down to the Great Hall. The other competitors, Burgundian and English both, stand gathered outside the double doors and Katniss feels their excited chatter wash over her. She squares her shoulders and wades into them, steeling her resolve. She is no use in negotiations, but this she can do.

And she will.

Pushing through the clump of bodies, she seeks out Gale and finds him quickly, his height helping him to stick out from the crowd. She heads over but makes sure to take the measure of every man she passes. She knows her Englishmen well, but the Burgundians are another story. She recognizes some from her betrothal tournament, but the rest are an unknown quantity. As she squeezes between and around them, she takes note of their height, build, reach and attitude. Any foreknowledge helps.

"Our fearless leader!" Thom crows as Katniss reaches them and Gale grins.

"You ready?" he asks and she nods.

"Always." Gale's grin widens. Thom releases a loud sigh.

"You know, this whole thing isn't very fair. You're going to win the archery contest and you're going to win the sword fighting. What does that leave the rest of us with?"

"Second?" Gale offers with a smirk and Thom punches him in the shoulder.

"You're insufferable. You're lucky I'm such a wonderful person or I'd knock that smug look off your dumb face."

Gale laughs and Katniss rolls her eyes even as she cannot help being buoyed by their good cheer. The double doors swing open and a thin man in Burgundian livery steps out, his tiny mouth pursed.

"Attention, please! Your attention please! It's time. Please follow me."

A thrilled whisper rushes over the group and they squeeze themselves into a shape that can pass through the doors. Katniss is jostled on every side but she barely feels it. Anticipation tightens within her and she knows she must keep a level head. A roar of excitement greets them as they step into the hall and Katniss looks around in wonder. Banners hang all along the walls, displaying the arms of England, Burgundy, Duke Charles and Katniss herself. Saint George's Cross and England's lions are interspersed between these coats of arms and there are white roses everywhere, more than she has ever seen in one room. They adorn the windows, hang in garlands from the roof beams and wind around the multi-tiered stands erected along three of the room's four walls. Those stands are full to bursting with cheering spectators, lords and ladies dressed in fine silk, costly velvet and shimmering jewels. Directly across from the doors is a raised dais upon which the ducal family sit, all except Peeta's brother Philip, who is of course competing. Katniss finds Peeta immediately and warmth pools in her stomach. She hopes he can tell how impressed she is with what he's already accomplished.

Their guide leads them into an antechamber at the back corner of the hall and shuts the door after they've all entered.

"You will remain here until you hear your name called. When it is called you will enter the hall and compete in the sword contests. If you lose, you are to leave the hall and not return. Victors shall come back here. The first few rounds of the contest will be team fights and the latter rounds one on one battles. If you attack one of your teammates, you will be automatically dismissed. Though the early rounds are team based, only those still standing at the end of the fight will progress to the next round. If your team wins but you were defeated, you still lose. Lethal force is forbidden and causing injuries to other competitors is strongly discouraged. If you are found to have used excessive force without suitable justification, you will be eliminated. Good luck to you all." He leaves and Gale turns to Katniss with a grin.

"Alright, time to get this started. Let's show these moneybags what England's finest can do." She nods and everyone starts talking at once, the buzz of their voices blending into one excited hum. Katniss looks around the room and studies her adversaries as the cheering in the hall rises to a roar. Many of the men, especially the Burgundians, have ladies' favours to wear into battle and Katniss sucks in her bottom lip. Should she have asked Peeta for a token?

A trumpeter's fanfare interrupts her thoughts and Katniss counts seven Burgundians and three Englishmen called for the first match. The teams must be five on five. They cannot see what is happening in the hall and her mind drifts back to tokens. Gale is wearing one, an embroidered handkerchief knotted in his gauntlet. Katniss stares at it and feels oddly underdressed without one. She has never worn a favour into battle before, but maybe she'd like to. Maybe she'd like to wear Peeta's favour.

Thom whistles. "Seven out in just one match, that's rough." Katniss startles from her thoughts and looks in surprise at the two Burgundians and one Englishman who've come back into the hall. That is rough, though not entirely unwelcome. The more out now, the less they will have to face later.

The trumpet sounds again and soon the herald is calling the men for match two. It will be four Burgundians and one Englishman on the first team versus three Burgundians, one Englishman and "Sir Rory Hawthorne, Marquess of Dorset!" Katniss' eyes widen, Thom makes an odd noise and Gale stares at his brother with a face that looks as if it's just been slapped.

"I didn't even know he was competing," she says as Rory walks after his team mates, looking much taller than she remembers. Thom cups his hands around his mouth.

"Clobber 'em Rory!" he bellows and Gale shakes his head.

"Is he really old enough for this?"

Thom laughs. "You sound like a fussy grandmother." Gale doesn't answer, his eyes riveted on the door Rory's disappeared through. Katniss sees the worry in his face and wants to reassure him, but accidents happen in every contest of arms. She squeezes his arm but he doesn't take his gaze from the door, his teeth sinking so deep in his bottom lip she is surprised he doesn't draw blood. Rory is a few months shy of fifteen and many would consider that man enough for most things, but she knows Gale can't. Just as she cannot quite believe Prim is old enough to have a baby on the way and be facing the perils of childbirth. Perhaps Rory will even want to fight when they retake England. She has no real reason to refuse him, but would Gale allow it?

"Yes! Yes! Way to go, Rory!" Thom cheers when the door opens and Rory and only one of his teammates step through. The other men in the room murmur in surprise, for Rory is easily the youngest competitor present, but Katniss feels a surge of pride. She lets go of Gale and follows Thom to Rory's side. Thom reaches him first and grabs his shoulders, shaking him in that odd way boys do when they're excited.

"Way to represent England, Sir Rory!" he laughs and Rory beams even as he flushes.

"Congratulations," Katniss tells him and Rory's face darkens with pleasure.

"Thanks! One of those Burgundians was huge; I thought he'd take my head off! I can't believe I made it."

"Of course you made it!" Thom says and then Gale is there. For a moment Katniss is worried he may try to lecture Rory, but instead he grins and slings an arm over his brother's shoulders.

"I'm sorry, since when did you get so good with a sword?"

Rory shrugs. "I always have been, you're just too full of yourself to notice." Thom snorts, a grin threatens Rory's face and Katniss feels both her eyebrows shoot up.

"Hah!" Gale says and pounces on his brother. He pulls him into a headlock. "That so, is it? I think we know who's too full of themselves, huh?"

Thom laughs, Katniss rolls her eyes, boys honestly, and the men in the rest of the room shoot them amused looks. Rory and Gale spin around together and their commotion is so much she almost misses the herald calling "Sir Gale Hawthorne, Earl of Salisbury!" She stomps on his foot to get his attention and he looks away from Rory with a glare.

"Ow, what?" he asks just as Rory takes advantage of his distraction and elbows him in the gut. "Oof," he says just as the herald calls out his final teammate, "Queen Katniss of England!" Her eyes widen and Thom shakes his head.

"That's just not fair."

Gale rubs at his stomach and Rory grins smugly. "I think I won," he says and Gale opens his mouth to argue. Katniss doesn't give him the chance and pulls him away by the arm. He frowns.

"What are you doing?"

"It's our turn, you fopdoodle."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"We're on the same team?"

"Yes."

Gale smirks. "Well, the other team's in trouble then, aren't they?" Katniss doesn't answer but as they step out into the hall, she feels confidence flood her veins. She and Gale have always been an unbeatable team.

They are against three Burgundians and two of her own Englishmen and joined on their team by two Burgundians and an English knight. The crowd cheers loudly, clapping and stomping and screaming, but Katniss isn't surprised. England's queen and greatest swordsman in one match, this is sure to be an exciting one to watch. She takes a calming breath and blocks out the spectators, focusing on nothing but her opponents. Her strength has always been in archery, but that does not mean she is incompetent with a sword. She is not Gale, but she can more than hold her own. She would rather avoid knocking out her own countrymen, so she turns her attention to the three Burgundians she will be facing. Two are stocky and clearly strong while one is tall and lithe. The tall one stands lightly on his feet and she can guess his greatest asset is his speed. He has a long reach too, she must be careful of that. Sturdy as the other two look, the one in the middle favours his left leg, though he is trying to hide it. Katniss will have to attack his right.

The herald blows out a short note on his horn and they are off. She and Gale do not need words or even a look, they merely press back to back in an instant. The man with the weak leg swings his sword at her and she ducks, making sure to keep her back pressed to Gale as she does. He feels her moving down and spins at the perfect moment, his sword catching the other man's. Katniss surges forward from her crouch and slams into his weak leg. He falls with a string of filthy curses and Gale turns again, easily blocking the attack from the other Burgundians who'd hoped to take advantage of his distraction. Katniss is up on her feet without a moment's hesitation and points her sword at the throat of her downed opponent. The crowd hollers in appreciation and that's one down, four to go. Her eyes bounce over her teammates and she sees Gale holding steady against the two Burgundians. Her other three teammates stand against the opposing Englishmen and she winces as the English knight on her own team goes down. Four on four.

Gale she trusts to handle himself, so she heads to the other knot of competitors. She is quick with light steps and she is upon them before they notice her approach. The nearest enemy manages to evade her opening thrust but loses his balance and falls, allowing her ally to pounce and knock him from the competition. She does not slow but spins away from the other opponent's sword, and then drops low to target his legs. Her Burgundian ally slashes at the enemy's head while Katniss swings at his legs. The man cannot defend both and he grunts as Katniss' sword slams into his knee. He buckles but does not crumple and parries her teammates blow. Katniss is not yet done. He shoves off her ally and then swings down at her, but she rolls away and is back up in a moment. This is much quicker than he'd expected and he is slow to turn and face her. She is faster and her sword rests at the crook of his neck before he is fully turned around and that's him eliminated.

All that remains is Gale and his two opponents, but in that field, she has nothing to worry about. Gale has already dispatched one and when she turns, she sees him finish off the second. Victory hums within her. Gale is on her in an instant, lifting her up as he cheers their triumph and she laughs.

One round down.

Let us continue to victory.

---

The swordfights continue in teams until there are only twelve competitors left. Katniss is pleased to note that seven are English while only five are Burgundian. She, Gale, Thom and even Rory are among those seven, while Peeta's brother Philip numbers among the remaining Burgundians. England is looking strong indeed as they head into the one on one matches.

"Lord Philip of Burgundy!" the herald calls and out Philip goes, smiling and waving at his adoring fans. Everyone holds their breath and then "Sir Rory Hawthorne, Marquess of Dorset!"

Katniss winces, Rory blanches and Gale squeezes his shoulder. "You can do this, Philip is good but he's not invincible."

Rory nods and squares his shoulders. He follows Philip out into the hall and Katniss, Thom and Gale stare anxiously at the door. She'd love nothing more than to see Rory re-enter the room in triumph, but she has little hope. Philip is the best knight in Burgundy and though Gale has bested him, she does not truly believe Rory can do the same. The wait seems very long though probably isn't and finally the door opens. Raucous cheering floods the room and Lord Philip swaggers in, draped in ladies' favours and victory. Thom scowls and Gale deflates beside her. Katniss isn't surprised, but still she feels the sting of disappointment.

The next match sees one of her Englishmen triumph over a Burgundian and then it is Thom's turn. He is to be matched against a burly Burgundian with arms thick as trees and he grimaces as he watches his opponent walk into the hall. He turns to her and Gale.

"Well, wish me luck. Hopefully he'll be polite enough not to squash me like a bug." Gale pats him on the shoulder and Katniss tries to nod in encouragement. Thom sighs and heads out. He does not return.

"Damn," Gale swears and she feels her stomach tighten. Only three more matches left of this round and she and Gale must win theirs. She'd very much hoped Thom would pass through, but she cannot let his loss distract her. It is Gale next against another Burgundian and she has faith in him of course, but that is not enough to settle her nerves. She waits the short time it takes him to win with her hands clasped painfully at her waist. When he steps through the door covered in ribbons and scraps of lace, she feels herself wilt with relief. The next match is not hers and she waits for Gale to join her with a smile on her lips. He reaches her and peels off the various favours he's been showered with.

"Top six," she tells him, pleased, and he nods.

"Of course." She rolls her eyes but then frowns as he piles up every glove, handkerchief and hair ribbon except one. It is the same handkerchief she'd noticed before, knotted securely in his armour and she knows who it's from even as she wishes she didn't. It would be nice to think it was from some local lady that had turned Gale's head, but Katniss is not so foolish as to think that. Gale is loyal and true, she knows that better than anyone. Once he gives someone his love, it is nearly impossible to lose. This tragic handkerchief is from Madge.

Normally such devotion would be admirable, but all it does now is hurt. Here he is, almost a year after seeing her last and a month after her marriage to someone else, still wearing Madge's favour into battle. Katniss likes Madge, she truly does, but she wishes desperately that Gale would forget her. He deserves happiness, but Madge has only brought him heartbreak. Loving her aches, Gale himself had said so. But then, he had also said loving Madge was as breathtaking, inspiring, and wonderful as looking at a night sky bursting over with glittering stars. That was the stuff of poetry, of ballads and that in itself was unlike Gale. No, he will not take his heart back from Madge, Katniss knows that. He does not even want to.

Katniss does not want to, but she almost hates Madge for this. Madge is the enemy now, married to Cato and one day to be his queen, but that hardly matters. Loving her is sorrow for Gale and it seems now it always will be.

That is what Katniss cannot forgive.

---

Gale wins the sword fighting contest, to the surprise of no one.

Katniss finishes second, with Philip coming in a close third. This is better than she'd dared hope and she still has her strongest event to come.

We can do this.

---

After their supper break, it is time for the archery contest.

Katniss picks up her bow and falls into line with the other competitors. In the first few rounds, everyone will shoot at one of the five targets lined up at the end of the hall by the doors; with the bottom ten eliminated each round. When there are only ten archers left, they will get two shots added together and only the person who scores the lowest will be out of the competition. The final round, consisting of the top five, will be three shots added together and there will be no elimination, just a ranking from first to fifth, with the top three given prizes.

Katniss is in line for the middle target and she turns back briefly to see how long the line is behind her. Inevitably, her eyes drift to Peeta smiling at her from the crowd. It is a steady smile, one sure and full of faith and it washes over her like sunlight. The line moves and she shuffles forward, but she cannot help thinking of Gale's words. Love is like a sky full of stars, but how could anyone look at Peeta and think of the night sky? He is warm and golden through to his soul, bright, cheerful and always rising after every setback like the sun after a dark night. His smile can make anyone bloom and being with him is like that glorious moment at dawn when the sun crests the horizon. Beautiful colours brought back to the world, light chasing away every shadow and the comfort only the day can afford.

He is no sky full of stars, he is the sunrise.

Katniss' heart thumps oddly in her chest and a dangerous thought begins to bubble in her mind. She is not Gale and Peeta is not Madge, why should love be the same for them all? Perhaps Peeta is not her sky full of stars, but maybe he doesn't need to be. Is that possible? Could she...could she love Peeta? Could she be in love with him? Someone shoots well, or so she guesses by the loud cheering but Katniss cannot pull her eyes from Peeta. Is this why the thought of annulment leaves her so cold and bereft? Is this why she craves his touch like she does no other? Why he can lift her spirits like no one but Prim ever has? Why she so wants to comfort him, to be good with words and feelings even though only Gale and Prim have inspired such feelings before?

The answer is painfully obvious even as it is entirely terrifying. Of course she is in love with him, how could she ever have thought otherwise? She loves her family, Gale, her country, but it is only Peeta she wants to hold at night, only Peeta who sets her skin burning with a single touch, only Peeta she can look at and never want to look away from. She feels a comfort with Peeta she has only felt thrice before, but she does not ever have the urge to stroke her sister's face, she does not yearn for Gale's touch and she does not feel her heart stumble in her chest at the thought of archery.

She loves him.

Oh God, she loves him.

She loves his sweetness, his kindness, his silver tongue and his easy laugh. She loves his compassion, his bashfulness, the way he turns such a delightful pink in his cheeks. She loves his loyalty, his goodness, loves him even though he is hopeless with a sword and will never ride to battle beside her. She loves his patience and his cleverness, loves him even though he is sometimes too eager to please, even though he thinks so little of himself. She loves his humour and the way he refuses to kill a spider, or let her kill one. She loves that he is silly and hates the rain and suffers from a rampant sweet tooth. She loves him even when he annoys her or they disagree or he frustrates her by never standing up to parents that treat him like he is nothing.

She loves him. She is in love with him.

Katniss is dizzy as the line moves forward and fear runs rampant through her body. Love aches, that's what Gale said and does she really want such suffering? Except, Peeta is her husband, they are not separated as Gale and Madge are. They are a team and there is no reason it should ache to love him. But what if he does not love her back? Just because Gale says he does, just because she sometimes thinks the way he says her name or lets his eyes linger on her speaks of more than platonic feelings, that doesn't mean it's true. What if he doesn't? What if she has fallen alone?

"Dazzle them," Gale whispers and Katniss blinks. It is her turn to shoot and though she feels liable to fall over at any moment, nothing has ever steadied her like archery. She closes her eyes, feels the bow in her hand and everything else falls away. She can worry about the nebula of emotion within her later, now it is her and the target and the arrow. Now she shoots for England. It is easy to forget the world, easy to aim and fire true into the center of the target.

Bullseye.

She has certainly passed to the next round, but she barely feels the hands patting her enthusiastically on the back. She is staring at Peeta, grinning, clapping Peeta. Her heart clenches.

Do you love me? Could you possibly want me?

---

The archery portion of the evening moves steadily on until there are only five people left in the running. Katniss is the frontrunner among them and Gale is with her as well, along with two Burgundians and to everyone's surprise, Rory. She knows he's spent a good deal of their time in Burgundy practising, but she hadn't expected him to manage a top five place at any contest, not yet at least. Of course, whatever pride she feels in her cousin's accomplishments, it is thoroughly eclipsed by Gale's. He is baffled that Rory is suddenly so good, but also positively delighted. He hasn't stopped boasting like a proud parent since Rory's fist shot and it is becoming quite annoying. She does not want to tell him to shut up, but she might have to.

"Did you see his form on the last one? That was perfect, honestly textbook perfect."

Katniss nods and wonders if her expression gives away her frustration. If it does, Gale ignores it. A Burgundian named Sir Guillaume is up first and thankfully Gale stops talking long enough to watch. Sir Guillaume hits eight points with his first shot, eight again with his second and an unfortunate three with his last. Katniss cringes in sympathy at the misfire and Sir Guillaume moves off to the side with nineteen points. That will not be very difficult to beat.

"Sir Gale Hawthorne, Earl of Salisbury!" announces the herald and Gale winks at her before taking position. He aims with steady hands and his first shot is a nine. The crowd cheers and Katniss nods as Gale readies himself for the second. He just misses the nine ring and scores an eight and then it is time for his final shot. He breathes deeply, squeezes the wrist bearing Madge's handkerchief and then notches his arrow. Katniss holds her breath as his arrow flies and then the room screams with excitement as it sinks into the center for a perfect ten. Gale grins and bows to the crowd, various ladies swooning as they always seem to do around him. Katniss rolls her eyes as she claps along, her confidence holding steady. He has shot very well and twenty-seven leaves him well placed to take second.

Gale moves to stand before Sir Guillaume to indicate that he has overtaken first place and the other Burgundian, Sir Herri, stands before the target. He is Burgundy's last hope and every spectator seems to lean forward in anticipation as he fires his first arrow. It is a ten and Katniss feels worry bloom in her stomach. His second is another ten and she feels her insides tighten. There is absolute silence as he shoots his third and final shot, and it is a nine, but only just. Katniss feels her breath leave her in a rush. Twenty nine, she will have to be perfect. Sir Herri waves at his adoring fans, overjoyed that a local champion has taken the lead, and then takes his place in front of Gale. Gale is smiling pleasantly and shakes Sir Herri's hand, but Katniss can see his disappointment in his eyes. If she succeeds, which she must, Gale will only finish in third. Perfectly respectable of course, but not to one as competitive as Gale.

"Sir Rory Hawthorne, Marquess of Dorset!"

Katniss turns to watch Rory shoot and nods in appreciation as he scores a nine. Her eyes widen as he hits another nine and it appears he may not finish in fifth as she had imagined. Rory narrows his eyes, stands with excellent form and Katniss actually feels her mouth pop open as he sinks his arrow into the center of the target for a perfect ten. Rory grins in triumph and the crowd goes wild. Twenty eight, twenty eight that means...

Katniss continues to gape as Rory takes his spot in second place, squeezing in between Sir Herri and Gale. Gale's expression is a match for hers but when his brother reaches him it explodes in proud excitement. He pounds Rory on the back and says something lost in the crowd's cheering but it makes Rory flush with pleasure. Katniss shakes her head. He is not even fifteen and he will finish in the top three. Perhaps she has underestimated him.

"Queen Katniss of England!"

Right. She pushes Rory from her thoughts and lines herself up with the target. This is it, it all rides on this. She breathes steadily, notches her arrow and thinks of nothing but her target. Her arrow flies and buries itself in the center for a ten. She does not acknowledge the crowd yet and notches her second arrow. It lands beside the second, giving her yet another ten. If she shoots a ten with her third she will win, a nine and she will tie Sir Herri, anything less and she will lose first prize. She must have that ten. This is for England and she must be the very best to win her parents-in-law. Another calming breath, another notched arrow and then she shoots.

It joins its brothers in the center of the target. A perfect thirty for thirty.

Gale is the first to reach her, hollering and lifting her up, and soon her other Englishmen have joined her. They shout and scream for her, the crowd following suit and the sound is deafening but she does not mind. She has done it. First in archery, second in sword fighting, they will not be able to ignore her now. Her eyes find Duchess Jeanne and she is not looking at Katniss but out over the crowd. Her eyes are wide with surprise as she takes in the lords and ladies screaming Katniss' name and showering her in coins, lace and flowers.

I've done it!

Finally, I haven't failed you England

---

The prizes are handed out and Katniss cannot help but beam. She had hoped she and her fellow English would put up a good showing, but they have blown her expectations away. Both victories belong to England and when it comes to overall standings, she and Gale stand top of the pile. She has victory and a second place finish, while he has victory and a fourth place finish; no one else comes close to that. And with Rory's third place finish in archery, the top three of both events have been two thirds English. The Duke and Duchess cannot deny it now. She did not coast on Haymitch's success to claim her crown; she won it by her own hand. And she can win it again.

She will win it again.

Peeta and Gale cheer the loudest when she is rewarded for her victory and Katniss feels her temperature rise as she catches Peeta's gaze. She looks down and thrumming within her is an anxious need to speak with him, but also an equally desperate need to avoid him. It is the coward that wins. She pushes her way into the crowd gathering around her, all eager to offer congratulations and pledges of support. As usual, she feels the immediate urge to flee, but she forces herself to stay steady. Hadn't Haymitch always told her she needed to charm and woo potential supporters? What better time to start than now? She smiles as best she can and nods over and over, her hand passed around for every set of lips.

(and even though she is purposefully avoiding him, she wishes Peeta was beside her)

A lord she instantly forgets the name of is the next to kiss her hand and her eyes fall on Rory. After receiving his prize, Gale and Thom had carried him around the hall on their shoulders while lords bowed and ladies swooned. Even now that both Gale and Thom have been dragged off by important guests, Rory still looks absolutely chuffed, his eyes shining and his chest puffed out to display his fancy new third place brooch. Katniss, so very uncomfortable in this swarm of admirers, seizes the chance to escape.

(so much for wooing then)

She makes an excuse to leave her latest companion behind and heads to her cousin's side.

"You were excellent out there," she says and he blushes even as his smile widens. "Are you planning to join us on campaign?"

Rory's eyes widen until they are entirely round and he fumbles with his words. "Uh, I...are you...you really want me to?" he finally manages and she nods.

"Of course. I could use every able bodied man willing to fight for our cause, and you have proven yourself exceptionally talented."

Rory looks about ready to kiss her and nods rapidly. "Yes, yes! I won't let you down."

"I know you won't."

Gale may not be so pleased, but that is a storm she will weather when she gets to it. She smiles at Rory only for Peeta's hand to touch her arm. She jumps about two feet in the air and is sure her expression is manic. He smiles widely.

"You were magnificent," he says and she feels warm all the way to her toes. She almost blurts out her recent realization right there but fear turns her tongue to lead. She nods, unable even to say thank you and then Gale is there and Thom, sparing her the need to speak.

"So? What do you think? Have we managed to win the Duke and Duchess?" Gale asks. Peeta grins.

"They've yet to say anything on the matter, but I think so yes."

Oh England, England, we're coming

---

Two days after the tournament, Rory finally gathers his courage.

He is not good with feelings, is embarrassed just thinking about them, but he owes Gale this. He owes them both this. Still, even knowing that, he spends an incredibly long time standing in front of Gale's door. Thankfully there is no one else in the hall to see him. Come on, come on, stop being such a lily-liver. With several deep breathes, Rory knocks on the door.

"Yes?" Gale asks from the other side and does not sound overly interested in company. Rory almost retreats but forces his feet to stay planted. No running away.

"Can I come in?" he asks and Gale's voice is a little warmer when he says yes. Rory pushes open the door and there's no turning back now. Gale is sitting by the window with his elbow propped on the sill. He has a handkerchief in the other hand and a morose expression that briefly ignites the urge to flee in Rory. He ignores it and settles down on the edge of the bed facing Gale. His bravery flags a little under his brother's gaze, but he cannot give up now.

"I'm sorry," he says to Gale's surprise. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting since we got here."

"Rory-"

"No, Gale. Look, there's plenty of reasons why I've felt so terrible since we've come here, but none of that's your fault. So I'm sorry." He feels a little lighter having said it and Gale purses his lips. He wants to argue of course and Rory rolls his eyes. "And don't ruin this by arguing, alright?"

"Alright," Gale forces out and Rory appreciates the effort that probably took even as he thinks his brother is ridiculous.

"Thank you," he says, only for his eyes to catch on the handkerchief Gale is clutching. His stomach sinks.

"That's from Madge, isn't it?" Gale's fingers tighten in the silk and he won't meet Rory's eyes. He nods jerkily. Rory sinks even further.

"I'm sorry about...about Madge," he says and cannot believe this is the first time he's said it. Gale snorts out a breath.

"Yes, everyone's sorry." Rory is surprised by the bitterness in Gale's voice and bites his lip. Gale sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

"Sorry," he says and Rory wishes he knew what to say, but the situation seems worse than hopeless. Madge is married, legally and properly, and to Cato of all people. This is all your fault Haymitch. I'll never forgive you. Desperate, Rory says something very stupid.

"I'll kill Cato," he blurts and Gale looks up at him in shock. "When we go to battle, I'll strike him down." It is a stupid thing to say and he knows it. The chances he will meet Cato in battle are beyond slim and even if they do come face to face, Cato is older, larger and renowned for his bloodlust. The odds are certainly not in Rory's favour. Still, he needs to do something to banish Gale's sorrow; he cannot bear to see it. Cato is the enemy and he is the monster standing between Gale and Madge, so Rory will strike him down. Somehow.

After all, if Saint George could slay a dragon, Cato is certainly within reason. Not that Rory thinks he is the equal of a saint, but Saint George is England's patron saint, he will lend his aid. Hopefully.

Gale smiles and it softens the harsh edges of his sadness. "I appreciate the thought, but honestly? I'd rather run the bastard through myself." He laughs a little and shakes his head. "God, if Mum could hear me now."

Rory clears his throat. "Gale Hawthorne!" he shouts in an absolutely perfect impression of their mum. "What an awful, terrible, un-Christian thing to say! You should never, ever wish harm on anyone, no matter what they've done to you! Now off to confession! Go!"

For a moment Gale is stunned speechless, but then he starts to laugh. He shakes his head. "That was terrible. Terrible!"

Rory brings an offended hand to his chest. "That was perfect and you know it." Gale waves away Rory's words but cannot speak for laughter and soon Rory is laughing too. He shoves his brother but instead of shoving him back, Gale pulls him into a tight embrace. Rory tenses in surprise.

"What are you doing?"

"Telling you I love you, because I do Rory. I love you."

Rory's breath catches and he presses his face into his brother's shoulder. The words try to get stuck in his throat but he squeezes them out. "I love you too."

---

Katniss slides a finger along the edge of her arrowhead and ignores the biting wind on her exposed skin. It is getting late and she should probably go inside, but inside she'll have nothing to do but think about Peeta's parents and whether or not they've changed their minds. At least out here she can lose herself in her archery. If she goes in she'll be tense, worried and likely to snap at everyone (as she had yesterday to somewhat embarrassing results). Katniss shakes her arms out and gets back into position. She takes a deep breath of cold air and feels it instantly clear her head. All that matters is her arrow and the target. She pulls the bowstring back, aims just right and –

"Wuhh!" she says in surprise and sends her arrow into the dirt. Arms have wrapped around her middle and she knows without seeing him that they're Peeta's. He laughs in her ear and suddenly she is lifted off her feet. Her eyes widen in alarm and he spins her around, laughing happily all the while.

"You did it Katniss! You did it!" he says as he sets her down, his voice bubbling over with excitement. Even though she is back on solid ground, she feels unsteady. She turns to face him and he is grinning so wide it seems to stretch across his whole face. She is momentarily blinded.

"You did it Katniss," he says again, his warm hands squeezing her waist. "You've convinced them. They are willing to fund our invasion." Katniss stares at him for a moment until his words truly soak in. We did it, we really did it! She is so overwhelmed she cannot help but throw her arms around him and he spins her again.

"We did it," she corrects when he sets her down. She says it into the soft skin of his neck and she feels a calm standing here with him she's only ever experienced during archery.

"Oh no, it was you, it was all you," he mumbles into her shoulder and she tightens her hold on him.

"Winning the contest was all me, but I could only do that because you gave me the opportunity to. We're a team, aren't we?" There is a quiver in her voice as she says it and in the seconds it takes him to answer, she feels fear flutter to life inside her. I'm an idiot, Peeta doesn't-

"Yes," he says and she shivers. They stay like that for a moment more and she should say it now. Three small words but she cannot get them out. They get trapped in her teeth and in the end she merely soaks up the feel of him.

She has fought armies, strange then, that this is where her courage fails her.

---

May 1471
Middleham Castle

"D'you think Gale will be home soon?" Posy asks as they play dolls outside and Vick frowns. He wants to say yes, but at the same time, he doesn't want to promise Posy something that won't come true. If he were younger he'd say yes immediately, anything to make Posy smile and because his faith in Gale, in good triumphing over evil, was absolute. At not quite thirteen, Vick knows better.

Sometimes the bad guys do win and sometimes the hero, even a brave, talented hero like Gale, does not emerge victorious. It is as sobering as it is terrifying.

"Ooo look! A pony!" Posy says gleefully and Vick looks over at the horse galloping into the courtyard. Who is that? he thinks and stands without knowing why.

"It's...it's a messenger," he says and his throat feels dry. He grabs Posy's shoulders.

"D'you think Gale wrote me a letter?" she asks and Vick can't answer.

Please be bringing good tidings.

Please please please

---

February 1471
Burgundy

As the snow and frost of January become the sleet and wind of February, Katniss plans for war.

She wants the invasion to happen as soon as possible and so she throws herself head first into strategy, tactics and logistics. Ships are procured, arms gathered and men enlisted. She pours over maps with Gale, writes letters to supporters with Peeta and inspects weapons and supplies. Things are happening, finally, and Katniss will not waste any more time. She is determined to sail for England before the month is out, no matter how insane such a prospect may seem.

I am coming Prim, England. I will be there soon

There is so much to do and so little time to do it, but Katniss will see it done.

England has waited long enough.

---

The days bleed into each other and soon, February has dwindled until only a few days remain. And tomorrow, tomorrow they sail for England.

Rory's things are packed, his clothes for tomorrow laid out and his new sword sharpened to perfection, but he wishes they weren't. He is restless, anxious and he needs something to do. His fingers twitch and his foot bounces but there is no outlet for his energy. He should sleep but he knows he won't. He can't. There is a soft knock on his door and Rory feels his mouth quirk up in the corner. Apparently, he isn't the only one who can't sleep.

"Come in," he calls and the door opens. He doesn't have to turn to know its Gale.

"Let's hope it's a clear day tomorrow," Gale says as he comes to stand beside Rory at the window. Rory nods and it is too dark to see the Channel now, but he can imagine it, black and foreboding. Gale places a hand on his shoulder.

"There is no shame in being scared," Gale says and Rory can hear the fear in his voice. Of course, Rory knows Gale is not afraid for himself.

"I know. But I want to do this. England is my home and Katniss my queen. I want to fight for them both."

Gale nods and Rory knows how hard this must be for him. Still, he does not protest and Rory loves him fiercely for that. Gale pulls him into a tight embrace and Rory goes willingly.

"Be safe Rory, be smart."

Rory clings back.

"You too Gale, you too."

This coming fight will be his first battle. He prays to God it will not be his last.

---

Even though the battle is still far off, Katniss can feel her blood humming as she surveys her packed luggage. Tomorrow they sail for England and war. It is a thought as terrifying as it is reassuring. Battle is something she understands, something she can do, even if it is unpredictable and dangerous. All this waiting, all this relying on others while she sat around doing nothing; she is ready for it to be over. She hates having to fight, but she is ready to do her part. It is time to end things once and for all.

No more civil wars Coriolanus

This time it is winner takes all, for good

I am coming for your head

"Everything's ready for tomorrow. We should be able to get an early start just like you wanted," Peeta says as he steps into their room and Katniss turns to look at him. He stands in the doorway and pushes a hand through his hair, a tired huff slipping past his lips. He has worked so hard to help her win back her kingdom these long, agonizing months and she knows that if she wins, it will be because of both of them. Neither of them could have done this on their own and she feels a tightness in her chest. We really do complement each other, don't we?

He smiles as he notices her eyes on him, a friendly, tired smile and she bites her lip. We're so much stronger together than we ever could've been apart. How lucky we found each other. He shuts the door and one eyebrow goes up in question as she continues to stare at him. She can't look away.

"Thank you," she says suddenly and his eyes widen slightly. "Thank you for all the work you've done, all the help you've given us."

"Oh no, no you don't have to thank me," he says, his cheeks darkening to her favourite dusty pink. "I was just holding up my end of the deal. You go to war on the battlefield and I go to war in the palaces, right?" She nods and steps closer to him, her heart starting to beat loudly in her ears. There is something growing in her stomach, something hot and needy.

"Yes. We're a good team," she whispers and isn't sure why. Peeta nods and his eyes seem bluer than usual as they watch her draw nearer. She stops just before she reaches him, whatever courage had been moving her legs withering away. She is not afraid to fight, she is not afraid of enemy knights or swords or blood, but this, this frightens her. Peeta wets his bottom lip with his tongue and for a moment neither one of them speaks. She knows what she should say, but the words do not come and Peeta takes a steadying breath.

"I suppose we should turn in. It will be an early start tomorrow," he says and he's right. She knows it and yet she doesn't move, that something in her stomach growing louder.

"Peeta, I..." she tries but still she cannot say it. He looks at her in question, head tilted slightly and blue eyes curious and he is beautiful, really, truly the loveliest boy she's ever seen. "Peeta," she says and beneath the curiosity she can see something else in his eyes, something shy and hopeful.

Peeta loves you

She has never been clever with words, but finally, she finds the bravery to do something else. She touches his cheek and he leans into her hand, even as his eyes widen in surprise. He looks at her and it is hunger in her belly, a hunger for him. Clutching her courage close, she leans in and presses her lips to his. He freezes for a moment but before she can pull away, he is kissing her back. Her eyes close, her blood sings in her veins and this is not like their wedding, a soft, fast press of lips, but slow and deep enough to taste the cinnamon on his tongue. Her hunger roars within her, wanting more more more. Peeta gasps into her mouth.

"I thought...I thought you wanted to wait," he says against her lips and she finds her fingers sliding through the soft gold of his hair.

"I...I don't, not anymore," she says and his trembling hands come to rest on her hips. A frisson spreads from his warm fingers straight between her legs and she knows what's about to happen next. Her heartbeat quickens.

"Are you sure?" he breathes and she nods.

"Yes," she says and then remembers the last time they'd spoken of this. He had seemed so hollow when they'd talked of duty and she knows what she needs to say. She swallows and the words are hard and unwieldy in her mouth. She forces them out, even as she can barely hear her own voice over the sound of her pounding heart.

"I...I want this and not...not because it is our duty. I...I want-I want you. Unless you don't want me," she whispers, her voice shrinking as she admits that maybe Gale was wrong.

"I do," Peeta murmurs and brushes her nose with his. "I do want you, I always have."

Her legs are weak and she holds onto him to keep steady. His eyes are closed and his eyelashes glitter gold in the candlelight and again she is struck by how lovely he is. Both her hands cup his face and she pulls him back to her, this kiss somehow deeper still. He kisses her back and her hunger grows even wider, every inch of her hungry to feel him, kiss him, love him. But wait.

"Peeta," she says and pulls back. He looks at her, hazy eyed and wonderstruck, and she hugs him tightly, fiercely. She will not be afraid of him, of them, she will be brave. She's faced down armies and wicked kings, she will not crumble beneath three words.

"I...I love you," she manages, finally, and he needs to know it, this steady, sweet, wonderful boy. He stiffens in her arms.

"Katniss...?" he breathes, voice wobbly, and she squeezes him.

"I love you," she repeats and ignores the panic beating in her chest. He hugs her back and she has never felt warmer. A comforting heat muffles her worry and Peeta nuzzles her neck.

"I love you too," he says and her heart rolls over with pleasure. She smiles without thinking about it and rests her cheek against his hair. His lips press against her neck and fire touches her skin, her hunger roaring back to life. He kisses his way up to her jaw and then her mouth, the two of them leaning into each other.

This time, neither of them pulls away.

---

The wind is cold but gentle as it blows over the harbor and waves lap softly against the hull of the great ship Bourgogne Royale. Katniss stands at the edge of what will be her flagship for the re-conquest of England and tightens her hands on the railing, her eyes fixed on the horizon. The pale gray sky seems to melt into the water separating them from England, its clouds stretching foggy fingers down to the sea.

This will not be an easy crossing.

Still, England is waiting, Prim is waiting. I promised I wouldn't let Coriolanus mutilate England again, but the longer we stay here, the more cruelties he can inflict. We must go now.

Peeta steps up beside her and rests his hand over hers on the rail. "Are you ready?"

Katniss looks into the distance towards home and imagines Coriolanus' bloody smile as he sits on his throne of bones. She nods.

"Yes. It's time to end this once and for all."

---

May 1471
Wingfield Castle

John has rejoined the Yorkists, her father too, and Philippa sits in the garden with her chin on her knees. They have gone off to fight and might be fighting right now, or maybe they're dead. It is a terrible thought, one that leaves her cold, but she knows it is a possibility. Rory too might be dead; for she is sure he is fighting too. Isn't that what he wanted? To be all grown up?

She might be a widow at only fifteen.

John and her father have been gone for over a month, Rory even longer and she wonders if she will ever see them again. Waiting is terrible, awful, the worst. She needs to know what's happening. Who's survived, who's won.

"Philippa! Philippa! Philippa, come here!"

It is her mother's voice, but is that despair or jubilation in her voice?

Philippa is afraid to find out.

---

March 1471
Ravenspurn

Rory falls to his hands and knees in the wet sand of Ravenspurn.

We finally made it. I'm home.

The men around him laugh, cheer and whoop with joy, the brisk English wind slapping colour into their cheeks. It has been too many days scattered by storms, but they've finally come home. Rory breathes in as deeply as he can, until his lungs burn with the icy taste of England. I'm really home.

Gale drops a hand to his shoulder. "We made it. And now it's time to take our country back," he says and Rory nods.

I'm coming Mum, Vick, Posy, Nella, Prim, Philippa. I'm coming.

---

May 1471
Tewkesbury

"The Yorkists...the Yorkists have triumphed."

"Liar!" Clove screeches and Madge should feel something, shouldn't she? Sorrow or rage or terror, but there is nothing except a hollowing resignation. We lost

We always lose

I wonder Gale, if I'd chosen you, would you have lost?