A/N: Took inspiration for the Peter, Paul & Mary version of 'Where Have All The Flowers Gone' for Katniss's POV and 'Woodstock' by Matthews' Southern Comfort for Peeta's.
KATNISS POV
"We now bring to you, Panem, a special version of the Hunger Games in celebration of my ninetieth birthday," came the voice of President Snow on the television. "The tributes will be reaped from the families of former victors, and there will be no age limit. The Games will see the children of victors battle against one another, and will also see little sisters of other tributes battle their nieces." No... no... Not Prim, not Lark, not my baby! "Including... these two very special little girls..." Sitting on Snow's lap was a little blonde toddler - Lark - and a brunette baby girl - my baby.
"No... No, no, no, no! You promised! No! NO!" I shouted.
"Katniss Everdeen, you were warned..." came Snow's hideous voice, and he chuckled, proud of himself for his actions.
"No! No, you can't! No!" I cried, and then I felt a surge of warmth around me.
"Katniss!" called a familiar voice, and I opened my eyes, gasping and gagging and grabbing at my throat. A bucket was shoved into my hands and I vomited into it, coughing as I tried to clear my throat of the offending substance. I then realised where I was - I was in my bedroom, at home in District Twelve. Lark was safe and asleep in her room, and my unborn child was still safe inside of me. On my back was a firm hand rubbing circles - Peeta's - and touching my right shoulder was the only person in this entire world that I could trust wholeheartedly, who kept no secrets from me, to whom I could tell anything and everything to without fear of being punished. My Peeta, my sweet darling boy with the bread, my husband of now two years, who so lovingly held me in his arms and soothed me as I pulled myself from the grasps of my nightmare. "Shhh, honey, it's okay," he whispered to me, pulling my head to rest against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat - a sure sign that he was alive - soothed me instantly and I took deep breaths, clutching the foul-smelling bucket in my arms. "Nightmare?" I nodded. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
"He... he took our girls... Put them in the arena... They were so small!" I cried out, then turned to bury my face in his chest and sobbed. Peeta took the bucket from me and set it down on the bedside table, then lifted me up onto his lap and cradled me in his arms.
"Shh... Katniss, they're safe... Our children are never going to see the arena. He promised, remember? And we did so much to make sure he kept that promise..." he whispered to me.
"But... but what if they do?" I asked him, not confident in his answer.
"Then we'll do whatever it takes to stop that from happening," Peeta replied. He kissed the top of my head and held me tightly, rocking me ever so slightly to calm me down. It was now mid-October, a couple of weeks after our second wedding anniversary. The Victory Tour would be arriving in three months' time, and we may be back here, but we also might be in the Capitol. I was now seven months pregnant, and my baby was still safe inside of me. I pressed my hand to my stomach to feel my little girl kick, which she did.
"Mummy's sorry she woke you, darling," I said to my growing belly. Peeta's hand found its way to rest over mine and together, we held onto my belly, which concealed our child. I know exactly what triggered that nightmare - earlier that day, a letter had arrived from the Capitol, and it contained all of the wretched Capitol names that Capitolites had voted for us to name our child, and we had to select one. There were ten names - Aria, Bijou, Daphne, Evianna, Fiorella, Lucinda, Maevis, Mireille, Seraphina and Valentina. Peeta and I hated each and every one of them, although Peeta had a very strong aversion to the name 'Evianna'.
"I am absolutely not naming my child 'Evianna'. It's completely out of the question," he'd said with a hint of anger in his voice.
"All right, no 'Evianna'," I said, crossing the name off of the list, which left us with nine. "None of these names really say 'District Twelve', do they?"
"They're not supposed to. They're Capitol names," Peeta said rather bitterly. I let out a sigh. No matter what, our daughter had to have one of these horrendous Capitol names, so we had to pick one. We ultimately decided to wait and see, although we needed to have one picked out before we went to the Capitol on the sixteenth of November. They wanted all the paperwork and stuff filled out quickly, which was probably why people in the Capitol even had the ability to find out the gender so early.
"I don't think I'm ever going to rest easy again," I said to Peeta, resting my head against his chest. "I don't think I ever did to begin with... Not in this world."
"I wish I could see Hebridia... I bet it's beautiful," Peeta whispered to me. I knew what he was saying - he wished we could live there, far away from Panem and all its horrors, where we could choose the name of our own child, choose when we had children, choose when we got married, and live a life free of fear. It was the dream, wasn't it?
"It was... Rocky shores, the sounds of the waves crashing on the rocks paired with the cries of faoilean and the bells of putaichean in the harbour..."
"I don't know what any of that means." I giggled lightly.
"I believe ' faoilean ' is a type of gull... We saw them in Four. One shit on your head..."
"Seagulls! I hate those fucking birds." I laughed again.
" 'Putaichean ' are the things that sort of float and mark where the channel is... I don't know if I've ever heard the English word for them."
"They float? Like they're buoyant?" I nodded. "I think... I think Annie called them 'buoys' when I asked her what those floating things were in the ocean."
"Then the sounds of seagulls paired with the bells of buoys... and the sound of the ocean. Sometimes, there would be a... er... I know the word for ' ceòtha' is 'fog'... but I don't know the word for ' conacag' ... it's a thing that's long and kind of big I guess, depending on the type... You blow into it and it makes noise..."
"A horn?"
"Peeta! I am not talking dirty right now!" He let out a laugh. "What?"
"'Horn' and 'horny' mean two different things, Katniss. A horn is an instrument." Hmph. Well, I guess I was sort of describing something else, wasn't I?
"Very well, a fog horn, although I didn't hear one in Four. I miss the sounds of them... Actually, we very specifically called it a ' conachag' in Hebridia." I let out a mournful sigh as I pictured my childhood home in my head - the isle of Uibhist, the farthest west one could get in Hebridia. I missed the rocky sea wall and the sea mist that sprayed you when you ran the rocks. I missed my family home, and the lobsters, too. "I miss the smell of the air, too... Four was like it, only warmer and sweeter. The scent of Hebridia was a lot rougher and colder, but it was home."
"Maybe you could describe it to me, and I could paint it for you."
"Peeta, you know I'm not good with words..."
"You are with me." I looked up at him and he smiled down at me, then leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head. "Katniss..."
"Not until I brush my teeth. I've just vomited, remember?" He let out a sigh.
"Fine, hurry up. I want to kiss my wife," he said. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, it dawned on me that I was seven months pregnant, and that soon, I would have to travel to the Capitol again, give birth in front of who knows how many people, and give my child a name that won't even be mine. I needed to pick one soon, whether I liked it or not, and what better time than contemplating my thoughts at half past three in the morning in front of a mirror, with my somewhat aroused husband waiting on me to join him in bed again? I ran through all the names - first, the ones that didn't start with 'M'.
Aria Mellark. Good God, no, I could never.
Bijou Mellark? One hundred percent out of the question. It sounded like I was naming a Capitolite pet.
Daphne Mellark. Hmm, not horrible. Still hated it, but maybe I would hate that one the least.
Evianna Mellark. Nope, Peeta already vetoed that one.
Fiorella Mellark? God, too many 'L's in that one. She wouldn't be able to say her own name until she was five.
Lucinda Mellark. That didn't even go well. Ugh, next.
Seraphina Mellark. That was way too fancy for a District Twelve girl - and that's all she ever would be. The Capitol would love and adore her like they do Lark, but all she'll ever be to them is a girl from District Twelve, who happened to be born to the Star-Crossed Lovers of District Twelve. Would I ever get off that train?
Valentina Mellark. Hell to the fucking no.
Ugh. I hated all of them, even Daphne. It didn't suit a girl from District Twelve, either. Perhaps it wouldn't be so corny to have the same first and last initials after all...
Mireille Mellark? Again, too many 'L's, and it was just too fancy for the daughter of a baker and a Hebridean refugee. Then there was only one name left. Suddenly, Peeta came up behind me and wrapped his arms tightly around me, pressing his lips to my neck and kissing up to my ear.
"You took too long... I got impatient," he whispered to me, lifting his eyes to meet mine in the mirror. His hands snaked their way to mine, which sat on my expanding abdomen. "What are you thinking about?"
"Her name..." I replied. "I like Maevis."
"Maevis Mellark... That's actually... not that bad," Peeta replied. "Out of all the names, I think I like that one best."
"Really?" I asked, turning my head to look at him.
"Well, I certainly wasn't planning on calling my daughter 'Bijou'," he said, and I couldn't help but laugh, and he finally brought his lips to mine.
"It isn't perfect... but it'll do," I told him, my hand resting on his face.
"What would you call her? If you had the choice."
"Hmm... Maybe Meadow, because it's my happy place. Or Willow, which isn't too bad... Maybe... Maybe I'd call her a Hebridean name... Like Eilidh, or Cait. A flower name wouldn't be so bad, either."
"When we were in District Eleven, one of Chaff's daughters pointed out a very sweet-smelling purple flower and said it was called wisteria. That wouldn't be a bad name."
"Wisteria Mellark... No, it's not so bad."
"But that won't be her name, will it?" We both frowned and I let out a sigh.
"No... Her name will be Maevis. Perhaps we'll learn to fall in love with it... Who knows, maybe she is a Maevis after all." It was hard to push out the sad thoughts that this beautiful baby wouldn't fully be ours. In the biological terms, yes, she was fully ours, but Maevis is a creation of the Capitol, like the Hunger Games, and the Star-Crossed Lovers of District Twelve. Like the love that Peeta and I share. At least one good thing came from the Capitol, then - if Peeta and I had not been brought together, would I have ever been his happy?
I then thought back to Gale's statement before the 76th Games. Was I really happy? I loved Peeta, and I loved Lark and I was going to love Maevis just the same. I loved being married to Peeta - I loved waking up to the smell of freshly-baked bread or cinnamon buns, and having an endless supply of cheese buns to snack on. I loved when he held me in those strong, warm arms as I loved his scent of cinnamon and dill, and a scent that was uniquely him. I loved to hear his voice when he spoke to me, and I loved the taste of his kiss on my lips. I loved holding him late at night while we made love, and I loved that, for once in my life, everything seemed secure and normal. But was it really normal? It certainly wasn't secure. I loved Peeta and the life we had together, but I wasn't happy, and it wasn't because of him. It was because of the Capitol.
Every night, I went to sleep to dream a phantasmagoria of horror. Children being killed by other children, those children who survived being nothing but gaunt puppets on a string. I was one of those children who survived, and I was nothing but a gaunt puppet on a string. The 'well-wishes' of the people of the Capitol were given so that they could cheer on one child killing another. Oh, what a world we lived in. In my dreams, the word 'fire' played over and over like a broken record, but what could it mean? I am the girl on fire, or so they say, but my fires were quelled long ago. Am I to set the world burning? The world was already doing that just fine on its own. Will I ever be able to say to my children...
'Lie down your head, little one, and dream of a place of magic, where all your wishes will come true. Close your eyes, little one, and dream for me. You are safe.'
No. Instead, I have to listen to my children say to me...
'Mummy, where have all the flowers gone?'
They're all gone, little one. They've all burned.
PEETA POV
Phantasmagoric images of the Games alluded to my private thoughts. I could ignore it no longer - I had to fight. For my daughters, for my wife, for my right to live freely and the way that I wanted to live my life. I dreamt that the arena burned, the true sky shining through the holes that the fires had made, shining down true sunlight onto my face. I dreamt that the hovercrafts turned into clouds of golden butterflies that shimmered in the natural light - war turned into peace, right above our nation. I couldn't wait anymore. It was time to get the ball rolling. It was time to start a rebellion.
I'd sat back for too long, beaten down and left begging for Snow to beat me some more with the hope that he wouldn't bring harm to my family, but he'd already hurt them so much. This was my chance, right here and right now, when I wasn't in the centre of the spotlight, but still there in the background. I could still be seen and heard, but the focus was no longer on me. This was my shot, and I wasn't going to throw that away.
"Haymitch," I said when I knocked on his door early one morning, a basket full of bread in my hands. "Did you still want help moving that bookshelf to the attic?" We were up there in an instant, the bread abandoned on his kitchen counter and a small bookshelf now missing from his living room. I waited for the old drunkard to reach into his pocket and press the button of his blocker.
"So boy... you in?" he asked me.
"I want in," I said. "I want to put a stop to this... I want to create a better world for Katniss and my daughters even if it means that I don't get to live to see it."
"Now, boy, calm down, don't get too eager. People who get too eager do rash and stupid things, and we ain't gonna do rash and stupid things," Haymitch replied. "All I can do right now is get in touch with Alpha. You gotta go have that kid in the Capitol. Don't play anythin' suspicious. It's time you got one step ahead of Snow."
"Who's Alpha?" I asked him.
"The leader, of course," Haymitch replied. "Don't you know nothin' about alphas?"
"So that's all I can do? Go to the Capitol and do what Snow wants me to do?"
"Do you wanna get caught onto?"
"Well... no..."
"Then that's what you gotta do. I know it sucks, boy, but you gotta do what you gotta do. We gotta be real careful about this. Don't get impatient. In due time, everythin' will fall into place. You still gotta get the girl on board, too."
"Katniss isn't going to agree to this..."
"So make her. You're the boy with the golden tongue. You make that girl listen to you, and you're the only one she damn well will listen to." I let out a sigh.
"It won't be easy..."
"When has anythin' ever been 'easy'?" I let out a chuckle.
"Fair point... We still have to get through this birth... and the Victory Tour... and then we'll have another Games... Haymitch, they won't wait until the next Games, will they?"
"Depends on if sweetheart wants to play or not. Listen, boy... wait until after she has the kid. I know we wanna get started as soon as possible, but she's gotta be in the right frame of mind or she'll never agree. That girl's stubborn as hell. We'll plan a meetin' soon, and if you ain't in the Capitol by then, I'll make sure you're there, too."
"Thank you," I told him, and I hugged my mentor tightly.
"Hey, hey! Hey outta here with that mushy shit! I ain't about that!" Haymitch exclaimed, pushing me off of him. "Get on back to your girl. Remember, ain't nothin' interestin' happenin' here. I'm just an old drunkard, and you're a baker with a wife and two kids. Got it?" I nodded. "Good, now go on. It don't take this long to bring a goddamn bookshelf upstairs."
I rushed back downstairs and to my home, and when I got there, I picked Katniss up off of her feet and hugged her very tightly, kissing her face. But she wasn't reciprocating. Confused, I set her back down, and then I saw the frightened expression on her face.
"Baby, what's wrong?" I asked her, holding her face in my hands.
"We're being summoned to the Capitol... They... They want her born sooner..." she said, tears threatening her voice.
"What? Is that safe? They can't do that!" I exclaimed.
"They can, and they've got the technology to do it, too. They want us there on the thirty-first of October..."
"But... that's two weeks away..."
"I know. Peeta... we don't have a choice... In the letter, he... he said... our deal would be over, if we didn't go..." And all of a sudden, my own fires were quelled. The butterflies went back into formation and recreated the hovercraft that had turned into them, and then every hole in the sky of the arena was patched. The sunlight faded, and I slipped into darkness once more. I couldn't risk the lives nor the sanity of my wife and children. I held her tightly in my arms, vowing that I wouldn't leave her side for a single moment, but it was no comfort to either of us.
No matter what, Snow was always one step ahead of us.
A/N: Will Peeta back out of his agreement to join the rebellion? Will Snow always be one step ahead? Will I ever stop torturing these poor characters?
Read and review to find out!