I hope everyone hsd a wonderful Thsnksgiving, if you celebrate it. I'd hoped to have this one up a little earlier but hope you enjoy!
Xoxo
"Peet?" The baker searched and searched for his son but didn't see him. Strange. The front of the bakery had already been swept clean and the cases had been wiped down. There was even a loaf of bread started on the counter. His youngest was the early riser of his three children. He had to be here somewhere.
"Peeta?" He heard a rustling and paused. He bent low and found his son with his knees tucked into his chest and his head lowered in his arms.
"Peeta? What's wrong, son?" The boy's head snapped up and he surged forward into his father's strong arms. Bran wrapped his arms around Peeta and held his trembling body tightly.
"What's the matter, my Sonnenschein?" Peeta smiled weakly into his father's shoulder. His father had pet names for all of the Mellark boys but Peeta loved his the most. Sonnenschein. His father's sunshine.
"You won't give me away, will you Papa?" Bran tensed.
"Give you away? What are you talking about, son?"
"Mama told the mean men they could take me away. They said they would be back for me later. Please don't let her give me away!" He burst into tears again and Bran brought him into his lap, cupping his fair cheek.
"You are my son, Peeta, and no one will ever take you away. Now, why don't you tell me the whole story? Beginning to end? Hm?" Peeta sniffled and wiped his nose.
"Mama called me in here and told me I was going to live with these nice men from now on. Only, they didn't look nice. They had big guns and shiny white suits. The man she was talking to reminded me of a snake! He looked really mean, Papa. Please don't make me go live with them." Bran's brow furrowed. He had no idea what his son was talking about. No clue whatsoever. Peeta's blue eyes widened in fear and he gripped his father's hand.
"Please don't tell Mama I told you! She said I couldn't tell anyone. I just had to go pack a bag and be ready to leave. She will hit me for telling you, Daddy, please don't tell her!"
"Shh," Bran rocked his son gently. "Sonnenschein. How could I possibly let my favorite child be taken away?" Peeta sniffled and attempted to smile.
"Come. Let's start preparing for the day. Stay by my side the entire time, alright Peet? Whatever your mother says, don't leave my side."
"Yes Daddy." Bran kissed Peeta's cheek and set him on the ground. Peeta wiped his face with his palms and Bran chuckled when there was a streak of flour left there. He used his apron to wipe Peeta's cheeks and ruffled his curls as he stood.
"Lots to do today, son. It's almost Reaping Day, so we need to get ready." Peeta shivered. He hated Reaping Day. The people in his district changed completely. So sad and tense.
"When will my name be in the big bowl, Papa?"
"You still have two years before your name goes into the Reaping Bowl, son. Two more years to stay young and innocent. So try not to think about it." His father cupped his chin and smiled before starting on the loaves of bread. Peeta climbed up onto the chair to watch his father work. He loved watching his father's big hands knead the dough so carefully. He hoped he would be that good one day.
"Peet? How about you start frosting those small cakes for me?" His eyes widened and he whipped his head around to look at the cakes on the counter. His father shot him a wink before resuming the kneading. Peeta scrambled over to the counter and eagerly pulled the tray of cakes toward him. Decorating the cakes was his absolute favorite! His mother never let him pick up a piping bag but his father, who was in the kitchen more often than his mother, encouraged him to practice and Peeta loved it. He started to mix a bowl of frosting, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. Bran watched him with a proud smile.
Bran's eyes shot open and he sat up in bed. He held his hand to his mouth, whimpering slightly.
"Peeta," he whispered. He carefully pushed the blankets back and stood on the cold ground.
"Bran. Come back to bed," his wife grumbled.
"Sorry to wake you, dearest. Go back to sleep."
"Where are you going," she asked as she sat up.
"I just need to take a walk."
"That's against the rules. Why do you insist on defying everything they tell us?"
"I don't intend to defy, I just need to clear my head. I had a strange dream and I can't go back to sleep." Margaret yawned and rubbed her face.
"Why don't you tell me about it and perhaps discussing it will make it easier to sleep?"
"I really don't remember everything now," he winced, his dream already fading to the back of his mind. Peeta. He knew it was about his beloved son but he was sure Margaret was there too.
"Can I ask you a question without you getting angry with me?" She sighed and leaned against the wall.
"You were so cruel to Peeta as a child. Why is that? Why have you always been so hateful to him?"
"I wasn't hateful."
"Margaret, I remember when he was born. You refused to hold him. Refused to touch him or nurse him. You called him a curse. I don't understand why. I never have."
"Why are you dragging out the past, Bran? The boy is eighteen years old. And he certainly doesn't take stock in what I say anymore."
"You're wrong. Peeta has always sought your approval. He always did what he could to please us. Boys are good luck, Margaret, so why did you hate him upon his birth?" Margaret huffed and played with the blankets instead of answering her husband.
"I'm not going to stop asking," he said lightly. "You may as well tell me while we are discussing it."
"I wanted a daughter, Bran," she said, finally looking him in the eyes. "You promised me a daughter and I just kept waiting. Everyone said it would be a girl. Do you remember the night of Peeta's birth?"
"So clearly," he said with a smile. "It was a calm night. You did so amazing, right up to the end. But you wanted me to bring your brothers to help you."
"You wanted someone else," she sniffed. "You tried to bring that-."
"Violet was the district's Healer! I wanted to make sure you and the baby were safe!"
"I told you I never wanted to see her face again. And you insisted on bringing her. My brothers were perfectly capable. We were the children of the Apothecary."
"Alright. I apologized for bringing her. But what does this have to do with anything?"
"It was a blood moon. It's extremely bad luck and I knew the baby was coming and I didn't want to give birth under a blood moon. Who knows what kind of demons could be summoned when a blood moon was in the sky? I tried to hold out. I wanted the baby to be born at dawn. A sunrise baby. But no. He wouldn't wait. He was born at the stroke of midnight, with a blood moon. And I know you wouldn't notice but the birth was hard, Bran. Harder than the others. He fought me the entire time. That was my last chance to have a daughter. Instead it was a son."
"But he was beautiful," Bran shook his head. "All blonde curls and rosy cheeks. He was perfect and he came from you." Margaret crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the blankets. Bran was shocked to see a tear rolling down her cheek.
"I was scared," she said softly. "Of what he could be capable of. My brothers said he would be a curse to the family. He was already a curse to me."
"Peeta was never a curse to anyone," Bran protested. "And your brothers were foolish to believe such a thing! Do you know what I heard the next morning? About my wife and son?" Margaret swallowed and looked up at him.
"That he was twice blessed. That being born under the blood moon was a good omen. The old woman told me the myth of the blood moon, that it means that the sun and moon are at conflict. And the one born under it is prophesized to cease that conflict. To restore peace and harmony to the world. I believed it even more when I saw what a gentle child he turned out to be. And that my wife, who had delivered the blessed baby, would have happiness for the rest of her days." Margaret's face hardened immediately.
"And you don't think that's a foolish prophecy? You think I have been HAPPY all my days?"
"Margaret-"
"You don't think I see how you look at her? How I think of the two of you, together, and wonder how I could ever have measured up to that? You don't think it MATTERED to me?"
"Margaret, please-" he reached out to calm her but she flew into a rage.
"Don't you touch me! Don't you ever touch me again! After having your hands on… Seam filth! Don't even think of it."
"Margaret, it was so long ago. Why do you do this to yourself? I told you, she means nothing to me-"
"And you still LIE to my face, Bran! After all these years, after her husband lies cold in the ground, your heart still beats the same for her! And it has never beat like that for me!" She wrapped her arms around herself and hid her face in her hand. Bran swallowed deeply, squeezing his eyes shut.
"I have tried to make amends. I have tried to love you, as you wanted me to. You won't let me, Margaret. And you insist on punishing OUR son for MY mistake."
"Don't you dare speak to me about punishments! You know NOTHING about punishments." His brow furrowed in confusion.
"If you mean to say that I have punished you-"
"Not YOU, you fool! My soul will burn for my mistakes. And I have not tried to make amends as you have. I don't even know where to start. It is the truth that sets my soul on fire, as it has done for years and years."
"Then perhaps it is time for the truth to come out? I will help extinguish the flames, Margaret. I'm here to listen."
"You will judge me," she snapped, shaking her head.
"I don't judge," he said gently. "Even if I did, who would I be to judge? You know of my truths. Set your soul free, Margaret. I hate to see you in pain like this. And it seems that it has only gotten worse over time. Please let me in. I know I have no right to ask this but please… trust me." Her eyes flashed and she looked as if she would hit him. But she surprised him again by melting into his arms and sobbing into his shoulder. He wound his arms around her, rocking her gently, as he had done with his baby boy so many years ago.
"You have made such sacrifices," her voice was muffled by his shirt. He knew exactly what she was referring to.
"It's my burden to bear. And so I shall for the rest of my days."
"I don't hate Peeta, Bran. I just… never saw him the way you do. Twice blessed. A resolution to conflict. He was conflict in my womb. I thought him bad luck. I treated him as such. And he still grew into a kindly young man."
"Don't speak of him as if he's no longer with us, Margaret," Bran pleaded. "I can't bear it. He will come home to us. When he does, will you apologize?"
"I don't know if I can," she pulled away from him and he immediately missed her warmth. "Isn't it better to let him think I'm a miserable old witch?"
"Better for whom, sweet? I know Peeta will be overjoyed to hear his mother does cherish him."
"Will he? His wife despises my very existence."
"That's due to the way you have treated her, Margaret. You could start by apologizing to her, you know."
"I can't Bran. I have brought such pain to that family, I can't face them to apologize." Bran tilted his head, his mouth moved wordlessly.
"I don't understand."
"I'll tell you, Bran. Because you promise not to judge and perhaps you will be able to share the pain these flames bring."
"I'll share the pain, Margaret. I'll carry your burdens for you. Just tell me."
They talked late into the night and well into morning. Bran had deep circles under his eyes and Margaret's face was red from crying. Bran could say nothing, so he went to the bathroom to wipe his face, quickly dressed, and left for breakfast. Margaret sat still on the bed and rather than following her husband, she burrowed under the blanket and pulled it over her face. She had to admit, her soul felt slightly better, as it usually does when the truth is told, but she still couldn't help but hope that the blanket might suffocate her as she slept. It would save her from the pain of having to tell anyone else the truth that consumed her so.
Finnick sat across from Katniss, a broad grin on his face. She glanced up at the entwined hands and smiled.
"I can finally see your face, Odair, and it's not attached to your wife's right now! What a shock!"
"Couldn't deprive the district from seeing such a lovely thing," Finnick winked and grunted when Annie elbowed him in the stomach.
"So crass, Finnick. How are you doing, Katniss?"
"Impatiently waiting," she shrugged. Finnick nodded and glanced up at the Head table, where Coin, Boggs, Plutarch, Gale, Beetee, and Haymitch were all eating breakfast.
"Still no decision?"
"None! And it's been two days! Peeta is in 2, Finnick, I have to go!"
"I'm sure you will but you to follow the rules. Remember that Peeta's fate is in your hands. If you mess up, the tribunal could order his execution when he returns. Now's not the time to be rash, girl on fire." Katniss sighed, knowing he was right.
"I'm just… I'm just ready, Finnick. I have been almost 2 months."
"I know, baby girl. And we'll get him back. Just be patient. Let them discuss the war details while you dream of being in your love's arms again."
"But you should also remember that you are fighting a war," a stern voice made her pause as two more people joined their table. She frowned at Vick, who helped Posy sit next to him.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Look, I know you are dreaming of being reunited with your husband and everything, but you are still the Mockingjay. You are the reason Panem is at war. YOU are the one who can help us end Snow's reign once and for all."
"I think Katniss knows this already," Annie said gently.
"I'm not sure she does," Vick shoved food into his mouth. "Or she's lost sight of it."
"I haven't lost sight of anything, Vick. It's not a crime to want my husband back."
"But at what cost? All I'm saying is, I hope when the time comes to fight, you won't back down. You will stand strong, hopefully with your husband at your side."
"You're starting to sound a lot like your brother," she spat. Vick shrugged as he continued to eat.
"Katniss, are you leaving again?" Posy asked, her eyes wide. Katniss's face softened and she stroked the little girl's hand.
"I have to, Posy, I have to go find my husband. You want Mr. Peeta back safe and sound, right?"
"Yeah! He brought me food!" Vick rolled his eyes but Katniss smiled.
"He's in trouble, Posy. And I'm going to go save him."
"Sign me up," Rory said cheerfully as he slapped his tray down. Vick stared at his brother.
"Come again?"
"I'm going with Katniss to 2. Gale and I think she needs to have as many soldiers as she can, especially when we take control of the Nut. Ryen and Madge are coming too."
"We get to attack some peacekeepers? Count me in," Johanna Mason whistled. Katniss huffed; this table was getting much too crowded.
"We are going to attempt to get District 2 to surrender," she said slowly. "Hopefully there will be no fighting. No attacking peacekeepers."
"Oh I don't mean I will go after your honey, but I do need to let off some steam. Being cooped up underground is making me crazy. I need to smash something. Like a skull."
"Ooooh," Posy's face shone and her eyes were wide.
"Not in front of children," Katniss snapped. Johanna snorted and blew a kiss to Posy.
"As a former Peacekeeper myself, let's keep the skull smashing to a minimum. I know a lot of those guys in 2. They're just following orders, they don't necessarily believe Snow is right."
"Then they should be brave enough to stand up to the Capitol," Vick said bitterly.
"To what point and purpose," Rye shot back. "Until this rebellion, no one thought of standing up to Snow. And if they did, they were killed. We need numbers and now we finally have them. Don't hold it against them if they were too scared to do something until now." Vick looked ready to say something else but Rory nudged him and shook his head. Katniss was saved from saying anything else when Coin and Boggs approached their table.
"Soldier Mellark," Coin nodded to Katniss.
"President Coin. Have you made a decision?"
"We have. We'll compile a list of soldiers to accompany you. Please be at the hangar at 2100 hours."
"Yes ma'am. Thank you!" Coin nodded and Johanna grabbed Boggs's hand as he followed Coin.
"I want to go too, Colonel. Pretty please."
"Are you a soldier, Miss Mason?"
"I'm a Hunger Games Victor and that's damn close enough," she snarled.
"Easy Jo," Haymitch set a hand on her arm. "I'm sure Colonel Boggs would be happy to have as many willing and capable soldiers as he can." Boggs's lips tightened.
"I'll pass around the list. Any of you who wish to submit your name must appear at training in one hour. Our Commander will test your strength and decide who is capable of being part of the squad. This includes you, Soldier Mellark." She nodded, her jaw set.
Finnick kissed Annie's hand and snapped his fingers at Johanna.
"Give me the list."
"Finnick… you should stay here. With Annie." Katniss noticed how Johanna's face had softened along with her tone.
"Annie understands that I want to fight, don't you honey?"
"Yes. And I know that Finnick isn't one to just sit back and do nothing. Katniss needs as much strength as possible. Hunger Games Victors are excellent fighters. Well… most are," she finished, shrugging half-heartedly. Katniss reached for her hand.
"I don't expect you to come with us, Annie, and I don't blame you in the slightest. I would rather everyone stay behind and stay safe. I don't like everyone risking their lives for me."
"Don't get me wrong, sunshine, we are going to protect you but this is much bigger than you and Peeta," Finnick said, not unkindly. "Many of us have been waiting for this for years. I agreed to join the rebellion over eight years ago."
"Three for me," Johanna said, passing Rory the pen. "Haymitch approached me after they killed my brother. He was the only family I had left."
"My point, Sunshine, is that people have been waiting for this… for you… for a long time now. You're the symbol, like your father was, and yes we will fight for you. But we're also fighting for freedom. For our future. For our childrens' futures." Katniss looked from Finnick to Johanna, then to the Hawthornes, whom she had grown up with. She knew how they had all grown up, freezing in the winters and desperate for their next meal, but she had thought that the other districts fared better than they had.
She was wrong. Each Victor had a story. Each refugee had a reason for being here.
Each soldier had a tragedy in their lives that drove them to rise up and fight.
Katniss stood up with her tray.
"I'm going to get ready. See you all at the hangar." Finnick whistled as Katniss walked away.
"Tonight, I think we're going to see the Mockingjay really spread her wings."
Peeta heard the door open and he blinked the blood out of his eyes. His cell was dark and he strained his eyes to see who had entered. Rebel soldiers had been coming and going from his cell all day, some of them showing him how they felt about him before they left again. His face ached and his hair was wet with blood from his last "talk" with the rebels. He tried to sit up but he felt his ribs were bruised and the chains were cutting into his wrists.
"Who's there," he said loudly, wincing at how weak his own voice sounded.
"I apologize for my soldiers' treatment of you, General. I have instructed them to stay away from your cell until we can reach some sort of decision."
"Decision? Do you intend to execute me?"
"It's not my intention but many of my soldiers have been calling for that very thing. They say you are a Loyalist. And you yourself admitted that you are here to destroy refugee camps."
"I also admitted to you that it is not my wish to harm anyone, and that I ask for your help in assisting me to escape from the Capitol, Commander Lyme. My loyalties are not to the Capitol. Or to Caius Snow." The Commander stepped into the light and Peeta drew a breath. He had spoken to the intimidating woman earlier that day and had told her the truth. Most of it anyway. He had not mentioned Katniss or the fact that he was trying to get to 13. But he did tell her that he came from the Capitol and was trying to get away from it. She was a Rebel Commander so if anyone could help him now, it would be her.
If her soldiers didn't kill him first, of course.
"Who are your loyalties to, General? You are a Peacekeeper and First General of Panem. Whose side are you on?"
"I seek justice, Commander, and freedom for the country. For the districts. I have lost a great deal of my memories but I do remember that the Capitol is not my home." Lyme stood with her hands behind her back. She had a stern jaw and her eyes narrowed.
"I have spoken to someone about you. She asks that I pardon you for your transgressions and keep you safe from the rebels and the peacekeepers alike."
HIs heart hammered in his chest.
"She?"
"The Mockingjay, General. Do you remember her?"
"I wish I remembered more but I see her more and more clearly in my mind. Is she coming here?"
"You understand, General, that I cannot free you until we are absolutely certain that you do not intend to murder her." Peeta released a choked gasp.
"Murder her?"
"Attempt to lie to me and tell me those are not your orders. That Snow hasn't told you to find her and kill her. She is the symbol of this rebellion, after all. How convenient it would be, then, for her to come to find her lost husband who just so happens to be a lapdog to the Capitol. As soon as we release you, you will ask to be alone with her and you will-"
"NO!" Lyme's brow raised, as Peeta trembled in his chains. He glanced up at her and hung his head again.
"No. I will not lie to you, Commander. Snow did order me to kill her. He has been poisoning me for ages, willing me to forget her and everything I am. And it has worked. I only have flashes of memory here and there. I couldn't tell you my parents' names, or my favorite color. I can't remember our wedding day, or how I proposed to her. But I can tell you that her name takes my breath away. That I see her face in my mind's eye and it makes my heart race. That I could never fathom harming her, even before I had any idea who she was. When Snow first gave me the orders, I felt strange, like it was wrong. Now I want to do everything I can to get back to her and help her fight this war. I may not remember much, Commander, but I know that I love her."
"Passionate words, General," she spoke in a low voice. "But I have been around the Capitol for many years. I know their ways. Your impassioned plea for your wife may yet be another one of the Capitol's tricks. So we will continue to hold you here, until she arrives in 2. I will arrange a guard outside, to ensure you are no longer at the mercy of our soldiers. But know this, General. If you are lying and you really are here to kill the Mockingjay, you will be begging for death in the end. Hunger Games Victors are not known for their leniency or understanding." Peeta squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. Lyme opened the door and his head snapped up once again.
"One moment, Commander!"
"Yes?"
"I was traveling with a young woman. The Capitol made me believe that she is my wife. She is innocent, in all of this, and I swore to keep her safe. Where is she?"
"I do not know of a young woman, nor would we take action-"
"She may look Capitol, Commander. But she is pregnant and needs your protection. I beg of you." Lyme stood still but Peeta couldn't tell if she was looking at him or not.
"I will do what I can to find her." Peeta started to thank her but the door snapped shut and he was plunged into darkness all over again.
Sighing, he shifted to the side, trying to get comfortable. Whether he was on the Capitol's side or the Rebel's side, he was always in a dark cell, sore and hungry and questioning his fate. He was becoming quite tired of that fact.
