Song Suggestion: Eminem—"Space bound" annnnd Lana Del Rey—"Young and Beautiful". Today you get two!

A Great Big thanks: Guest, Lucy Greenhill, slightlytwisted84, Guest, Sandraanataliaa, Rachel, californiadancer, Isabella, HeyBirdy, HalleyJoe, Vestina, and a Guest!

A/N: So one of my wonderful reviewers caught a mistake. Gasp. When Cato fights Katniss on the cornucopia, he is supposed to lose the tip of a finger. I had two versions written of that chapter, and when I was merging them somehow, and I'm still not sure how, that detail got left out. Probably because I had just gotten my wisdom teeth out.

The only difference between the published piece and what was supposed to happen was that the arrow nicked Cato's finger while it struck Peeta's throat. He is able to pull away, the adrenaline masking the pain, but his finger is mangled.

It is such a little detail that I won't rewrite the chapter. Just know what was really supposed to happen. These are the mistakes an editor would catch if I sent in a manuscript to a big publishing house. But, alas, this is done for love and not money, so there will be mistakes. Also, I could get a beta, but for the most part, I'm on top of it, and it would take up time before postings. Thank you, awesome readers, for having such eagle eyes.

A Dangerous Peace

Out of self- preservation, she leaned back. Before she had a panic attack, he thrust a small object into her eyes.

It was a ring. A wedding ring. A glittering, diamond wedding ring.

It wasn't overstated like Theodora's. It was small with curves and swirls, and it was perfect.

"It was my grandmothers." He said, "And I was hoping it would be yours."

"Why ask? Aren't we already engaged?"

He stopped and stared out at the scenery, following Coral out of the corner of his eye. She ran in a circle, squealing, chasing after some butterflies. They fluttered just out of reach. He heaved a sigh, and it occurred to her that he was nervous.

"That was for the capitol," he said quiet, "This would be for real."

Prim's mouth went dry. He was asking her to marry him. Not for show. But for real—the realest way possible.

"So I could say no."

Cato looked away from her, not meeting her eyes even when Prim searched them out for emotion.

"Tell me, Prim," he said, "What's left for you back in District 12? That's you biggest hope, isn't it, to be back with your family and friends? It's the big reason you don't want to be with me, right? So you can continue with your old life. But what's for you there now? Gale's dead, your mother is surviving without you, you had little to no friends, and the ones you were close to are now building their lives without you."

The words struck her like a slap.

"But my friends—"

"What of them? Rory found a girl he's getting serious with. Madge is studying to follow in her father's footsteps. As much as I'm sure the care for you, they wouldn't have time for you. To add to that, the help for your mother would vanish as well as the little bit of food and supplies I sent. And then what? What would you do?"

She tried to ignore the fact that he knew so much about her friends, or even what their names were.

"I mean… I could hunt…"

He snorted in amusement, and she reluctantly had to agree with him.

"Could you even bring yourself to kill, even if it meant your starvation?"

Her head dropped a little bit. No, she couldn't. It was as much a fault as it was a virtue. Katniss killed, and Prim never thought she was a bad person for doing it. Prim just couldn't bring herself to do it.

"That's what I thought." He gave a self-satisfied smirk. "Gale was the one who used to bring you meat. Now you'd have to sell yourself to your filthy peacekeeper to stay alive. Would you really want that? Is that such a great alternative to the life I could give you?"

"My mother's patients—"

"Don't bring in enough, and you know it. Most of them you don't even make pay." He was silent for a moment, until he turned to her and gathered up both her hands and brought them to his chest, "Just give me a chance, Prim. I want you to choose me. I want to make this real. Don't you see? I can't even go about my normal life anymore. Is she happy? Is she faking it? You're so fucking hard to read…" he was rambling, and he sensed this because he got quiet again, "Look, I won't be a fucking white knight or anything. I won't be a guy in your fairytales… but... fuck, this went better in my head-"

"Do you promise to not take me without my consent again?"

His hands dropped hers.

"We're going to have sex, little bird." He said, "And not just because of Manato. I hope you're willing. I want you to like it as much as I do. But-" He placed his hand over my stomach, at the soft part just below the bellybutton. "Give me a son. Give me many. I promise when you're pregnant I won't touch you if you don't want. Until then, sex will be just part of the picture."

His motivations always surprised her, and she trained her face not to show her shock.

"Why?" She managed to get out without sputtering. "From how you treat Coral, I thought you didn't want kids."

"I've always wanted-" he pulled himself back; "It thought she would be the only one. And it was dangerous for me… I wasn't intending on taking a Manato to have more. And if they put her in, well…" he looked up into her eyes, "she'd die. If I have enough children, though, enough where I could choose the strongest, a son, the most likely to win, maybe he'd survive."

"So you want me to have a bunch of kids just so you can send the strongest in the games."

Prim knew the solution made sense to him and his District 2 mentality, but the thought was no better to her than sending Coral. It would still be sending a child into death's arms. And what if she had ten children, and they all were incompetent for the games?

"It's what my father did after his games. He had four," Cato said. "And it was a good thing too. Imagine Cassius, even as intelligent as he is, or Hannibal, in my shoes. Neither had the nature. It would have destroyed them."

"And it didn't you?"

Cato looked down, unable to let her see his emotions. But, still, she could tell the statement affected him.

"Better me than them."

That was the most selfless thing she had ever heard him say. And it made her think: did he volunteer so his brothers wouldn't have to?

"Your father was a victor?" Prim thought she had heard that from somewhere, but she had never taken it into account. Remembering his father's towering and hulking figure, it made sense.

"Yes, and his father before him as well. It's a legacy the capitol won't let die out anytime soon."

"What about your sister? Couldn't she have gone?"

He opened his mouth as if about to say something else and then closed it. Apparently, he was surprised she knew about his sister.

Finally he said: "Her least of all. She was… unbalanced."

That was all he wanted to say on the matter. After that, they shared an uncomfortable silence.

"Can you promise me one thing?" Prim asked, deciding to end the silence.

An errant wind, still slightly chilly, came and blew up several strands of hair. Cato's hair was left in a shaggy mess that only made him look more becoming.

"I make it a habit not to promise."

Prim nodded.

"Katla told me some things about Manato. She said that I don't have any rights."

Prim wanted him, more than anything, to deny the claims. But, he just sighed and nodded back.

"She speaks true. Legally, until you can't bear me children anymore or can prove that you are barren, you have no say and no rights."

Prim wondered how many women throughout the decades had been subjected to such a primitive and disgusting law. How many women fell into the wrong man's hands? Victors were not known to be gentle, and to have such creatures completely in charge of another woman's life… Prim shuddered at the thought. Despite Cato's cruelty sometimes, Prim understood she could have it a lot worse. Someone like Jace could have claimed her.

Prim tried to keep her thoughts on track.

"But she also said something else. She said I had to be yours," Prim sucked in a small breath before continuing, "But you didn't have to be mine. You could choose another Manato or wife after-"

"I don't want another Manato or wife."

Cato scoffed and leaned back onto the pebbled dirt. He plucked a sprig of long grass, and put it in his mouth, twirling it with his teeth.

"You say that now," Prim felt anxiety raise in her and with it her voice level, "But what happens in the future? Those kids you want will ravage my body. I'll get fatter with stretch marks. And what if one day, I am no longer as beautiful to you? What happens the day I start getting wrinkles or gray hair? What happens then? You may change your—"

"You're a long way off from wrinkles, little bird," Cato cut her off, "And if you age anything like your mom…Brutus is an old, lucky son-of-a-bitch. I bet he's fucking her right—"

"Eww!" Prim shoved Cato, and he gave a belly laugh, bringing his hands up near his stomach, and spitting the grass stem out of his mouth.

When he finished, he turned on his side and stared at her long enough to start making her feel uncomfortable. Her hand went up and pulled on the ends of her hair. At the back of her mind, she remembered the way he flicked her pigtail after pushing her face against the shed.

"I don't think you see yourself." His eyes were open, unguarded. Whatever he was about to say, Prim felt it was true. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Prim felt her face go hot and she tugged harder at her hair.

"A lot of girls are beautiful."

Cato's hand came out and lifted her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes.

"I'm not talking about the Capitol version of beauty. I'm not talking about perfection. I've been with that type; I've fucked that type. The type you have isn't the type you're thinking of. Giving you this," he holds up the glittering ring, "Is telling you I'm a selfish shit, and I want it all for myself. So just take it already. Because I'm not like you, I'm not good. I've always gotten what I wanted. Or taken it outright. And I'm not patient with asking things."

In the end, it was an illusion of a choice. If she said no, Cato would hunt her down until she conceded defeat. But, for some reason, Prim didn't mind as much as she usually did.

She took the ring and held it up to look at it. It was surprisingly heavy, and the diamond in it dazzled clear and bright.

"Primrose Carthage—it has a funny ring to it."

"It fits you," He grabbed her hand that held the ring and guided it to her left towards her ring finger. It slipped on with ease. "As this does."

When she looked at Cato again, he was smiling. Really smiling, achingly big without malice or blood.

It was his smile of victory. A victory outside of the games. A victory of life.

A Few Hours Later

They played hide and seek with Coral on the mountaintop for the rest of the day. On the way down, Cato swung up Coral and placed her on his shoulders. When they got to the bottom, he joked around with her and threw her into the slow-moving part of the stream. She shrieked with the cold and then giggled, balling a piece of mud up and throwing it at her father. It missed, but Cato understood her intent.

"I'll teach you to mess with a champion," he teased and chucked his shirt, diving in after her. It was deeper towards the middle, deep enough so that he could fling her into the air to land back in the water. She screamed each time, but always came up asking for more.

Prim sat on the edge of the river bed, sticking her feet in, squelching the slimy underside with her fingertips. The water was so cold, her lips turned blue with just a splash of water.

She should have realized something was up when everything got quiet. She should have realized that something was up when she looked over and saw them whispering together, with Coral giggling with glee, the giggle she reserved for when she was planning something naughty. But in the end, she didn't realize anything until it was too late.

Cato's hand grabbed her ankle and tugged her under the water.

Prim sunk and then sprung out from under the water, sputtering and gasping, pushing the water out of her face.

"How—How dare—" She couldn't finish. Both Coral and Cato were laughing and a second later she joined them, laughing so hard she slipped on some rocks, and that made everyone laugh harder.

Thirty Minutes Later

They stayed in the river, until the sky filled with darkened clouds. A rumble rolled across the sky, deep and jarring, giving them a final warning.

The rain started before they got back, freckling the dirt around them. All three of them ran into the house, rain pelting their soaked bodies. They were still laughing as they barreled through the front door.

Alive. She felt alive from the tips of her fingers. Every hair on her body raised in electricity. She breathed in a deep breath of freshness, of dewy soil and pine trees.

"Daddy let's play—" Coral didn't finish her sentence. A yawn overtook her little body.

"Nope," Prim said and grabbed a towel from a maid waiting nearby, "It's time for a nap." Prim ruffled the little girl's curls with the towel.

Coral started protesting. "But I don't wanna."

Prim almost said something, but Cato stepped forward.

"I've got this."

Prim stepped back, surprised, but pleased. He picked up Coral, who yawned again. She wanted to protest, but exhaustion overcame her and she laid her head against her father's strong shoulders.

"I love you daddy," she heard Coral say as they walked up the stairs.

Cato didn't answer back, but she could see him arms tighten the little girl's body closer to himself, as if afraid he'd let go.

Ten Minutes Later

Prim was still dripping wet when Cato came back down five minutes later. She was trying to dry her hair with another towel.

"Come, I have a surprise, "Cato smirked, "Think of it as an engagement present. Now be a good girl and follow me."

Five Minutes Later

They ended in the basement. Cato opened the door with a secret smile, already pleased with himself. Prim looked beyond him to see a room filled with hanging vines, a heady scent of damp earth. Plants draped over the beams of the ceiling, some drying, some meant to live. Shelves filled with empty bottles. A large, wooden table sat in the center, with a mortar and pestle in the center.

"What is this place?" Prim looked around, open-mouthed, unable to take it all in.

"Maybe this will help solve the question." He reached down under the table and opened a drawer, pulling out a worn, leather-bound book. The sight of it stopped her heart. She knew this book. Knew the texture of the pages by heart.

It was her family's plant book. The one of her father's plant descriptions, and later, the one where her mother put all her healing concoctions in it. Every single recipe lined the pages. Prim grabbed the book with delicate hands, as if it would vanish. Her legacy. Her heritage.

She placed it on the table and opened it up to a random page.

Bloodroot, a white flower with splayed leaves and a yellow center. Her mother liked to use it to heal sore throats. Prim finger trailed the page, a caress.

After Katniss died, Prim attempted to carry on her parent's work. She would bring the book out with her during her training sessions with Gale and attempt to draw the plants that matched the descriptions. Katniss had always wanted to do it, so she tried. At first, her drawings were laughable, little wilted things up in the margins of the notes, but after a while she got better.

"Where did you get this?" It had been in her trunk at home before… "You didn't take it, did—"

"Hush," he said, "I didn't steal it, if that's what you're thinking. Your mother gave it to me."

She believed him. Yes, he was a liar, but he was a terrible lair, as if he didn't really want you to believe them, like he wanted you to call his bluff, just to show his power.

Prim nodded her head and walked over to the table, lifting the heavy mortar in her hand. She stood in awe for a moment before opening the book, flicking through the pages, already on a mission. One of their maids had the flu and a stable boy broke a toe a few weeks back and the swelling wouldn't go down.

Prim got to work, and Cato sat in the corner, watching her.

His stare was erotic in its simplicity. In its open desire. It buried its way beneath her skin as she worked slowly, gathering the materials, grinding them together. She felt his eyes trailing slowly down her skin, a caress on her cheek, on her shoulder, down the line of her hip. And then back to the beginning to start all over again.

Prim tried to concentrate on her work. Garlic, she read, contains anti-inflammatory properties. Mix with beeswax for consistency, and…

She had read the entry three times over already.

Fire burned too hot in her, and it had nothing to do with the atmosphere. Outside the world rocked and thundered, rain pelted the roof and could be seen running rivulets down the tiny windows in the basement.

It created a muggy environment, wet enough that their clothes from earlier still had not dried.

She almost screamed with the tension.

Just grab me already, she wanted to spit out at him, grab me and lay me down on the floor. Show me I'm yours. She felt the pulse of her heart all the way across her body, like an infection, spreading through her veins. The tiny hairs across her scalp and body rose in desire and need.

It was against the normal of his behavior. Normally, he'd push her against the wall, the floor; splay her across the nearby table, knocking everything to the ground as he took her gently, took her viciously.

But this time he did nothing. He sat and stared, his eyes so intense they burned her.

What did he want?

It took her several minutes of reading and rereading the same sentence to discover that he was waiting.

Waiting for what?

For her to make the moves?

Her grip on the mortar slipped.

The thought brought a spike of fear through her heart. But the ache was too great. The infection had already spread to her brain, to her rationality. The gratefulness she felt for him slithered around her, alive in her being.

She unbuttoned her camisole, still facing the table. One button. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. They looped through the holes. Then she shrugged it off her arms in one movement, sending it to the floor.

"It's hot in here, don't you think?"

Silence.

She turned and looked at him. He sat wide-legged in the chair, both hands gripping the armrests. His blond hair fell into his eyes, lowered a little, just enough to make them appear darker, more serious.

With his stare, her nervousness dripped away from her. His stare made her powerful, as if everything was suddenly in her control. Desire thumped around them, music only they could hear. The beat of nature.

Her choice. Her choice. Her choice.

"Very hot," she said.

Her dress came next. She unzipped it down her side, not wavering from his stare, not blushing, or hiding. What was there to be afraid of? What was there to be ashamed of? She was left standing in the damp basement, the muggy air like a bath to her skin. Dew pooled and trickled down her body.

It was the slowest start to contact they ever had and each second only made it sweeter, more painful. It ached inside her, hurt to be close to him. She wanted to lose herself in the sensation.

It made her brave and bold. She walked over to him, dragging him up by his collar. For a moment, his eyes wavered in surprise, and then darkened considerably. He bent his head and attempted to kiss her, but her fingers stopped him.

"Not tonight," she said.

"Prim—" His voice filled with warning.

"No" She continued, "Tonight it's my rules."

Her fingers steepled on his chest and pushed backwards. He gave no resistance, falling to the ground, resting his elbows on the floor to prop himself up.

She helped him undress and she quickly got rid of her clothes as well. The time in between hazy and lost, unnecessary moments compared to the conclusion.

As she straddled him, joining their bodies, she felt ancient. Her bones old and powerful, millions of years of experience gliding through her cells, telling her exactly what to do. It was beyond thought.

He was man, and she was woman. Her body a temple to be worshipped. His hands grasped her breasts in blind pleasure.

She threw her head back and rocked, using her motion to elicit a small grunt from him. It was silent and greedy, the ultimate form of give and take.

In this instant, she understood her true might, understood the effort people took to grasp this fleeting moment of infinity.

But Cato wanted more than her body, she realized this when he gripped her hips hard, making her tip forward on his chest. "Say you love me," he growled.

What? Her mind faltered in confusion. Her first instinct was to comply with the demand, but something held her back. Yes, she forgave him, but love… it was too soon. He wanted too much too fast. The words would not come out.

When she didn't answer, he flipped them. The sudden violence of it startled her, the intensity, the need.

He looked into her eyes, picking her legs up and wrapping them around him and pushing in, all in one motion. She moaned in pleasure, not able to respond even if she wanted to.

"Look at me," he tiled her head back to meet his eyes, "Fucking say it."

He slammed into her hard. It almost hurt more than it felt good. The power she felt before crumpled in an instant. She knew in her heart she had to placate the beast, the ravenous jealous monster that wanted all of her.

"Say it," he almost begged it. His teeth at her throat, grazing down the tender skin. "I need you to say it."

It's just three words, she tried to reason, three stupid words. He knows I wouldn't mean them. But the felt like sludge coming out of her lips, slow and thick.

"I-I-I L-love you."

He didn't let up. He just kept slamming into her at an unrelenting pace.

"Again."

Slam.

"I-I love you."

"Again!"

Slam.

It was too much. She couldn't take much more.

"I love you!"

He finished with one last thrust, holding her hips so hard she thought they'd bruised. His eyes squeezed shut.

After a moment, they fluttered open, unable to meet her gaze. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before dropping his head to the curve of her neck.

"Dammit," his breath caught, "fucking hell, what do you do to me?"

Five Minutes Later

Later, after they both got their bearings, he stood up and dressed. After, he lifted her up, letting her step into her dress and then zipped up the sides. He slipped the cardigan back on her shoulders, buttoning it all the way to the top.

"Something about you is breakable," he said after he was done. He rested his fingers on the top button, as if unsure what to do with his hands. "Something in me... It wants me to break you, then glue you back to together to what will fit me, to do what I want. So that you will never lea- I have to stop myself from doing it."

"Why are you telling me this?" What he said disturbed her.

It took a long time for him to answer her question.

"Because… well, I don't want to break you." His lips gave another gentle kiss along her hairline, "Don't give me a reason."

"Umm," she said, "Okay? Well, I'm just going to get back to work."

Ignore the insanity. Ignore the insanity. Why did he have to destroy his random acts of kindness with mental madness. It made her nervous. What if one day she did cross the line? What would he do to her?

She walked back over to the table. She was working on a syrup for the maid.

"Prim, I'm serious," Cato said at her back, "never fucking leave me."

He left the room, not allowing her a response, leaving her with a chill up her spine.

Prim wasn't sure if it was a plea or a threat.

The Next Morning

The worst part, the absolute worst part, was that the three dreaded words didn't feel like a lie.

There was a difference between forgiving a monster and loving one. The boundary was thin, and she was scared she toed the line, if not jumped clean across it.

Despite the changing tides, despite the way he stared at her openly now, as if she was the only one in the room, despite all the ways he made her feel high and complete, he was also a little unstable. Today she almost forgot. And then he reminded her.

Yes, he was a man to pity. But he was also a man to be feared. He had been taught since childhood to destroy, and there was no way he'd let up easy.

They were sitting, eating breakfast. Coral had just finished and went outside with a maid to play on a swing set in the backyard, leaving them to eat alone.

The silence was no longer strained as it had been in the beginning. But since their heated basement entanglement, Cato had not said one word to her.

Maybe he was just as afraid of opening up to her as she was to him. Prim sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm her heart. As much as it felt like walking on glass, she knew she had to talk to him about the other day, about his words. About how it was not okay to threaten her anymore.

"Cato—"

The door slammed open, and Theodora walked in, decked out in an outfit with gigantic butterflies that actually fluttered. They looked strange paired with the non-feminine tribal tattoos on her arm, and her hair buzzed completely off.

Theodora smiled and placed a hand on her hip.

"Now, isn't this just the most domesticated scene I have ever seen? Honestly, Cato. I didn't know you had it in you." Her gaze went from Cato to Prim, "Come on now, let's go make you up to sparkle. Do up your hair, paint your nails, it's time for Tea Time!"

Prim heart dropped, and she didn't miss Cato's sudden frown. He gave her a worried look, something she hadn't really seen since his interaction with President Snow.

As if Tea Time was an actual physical threat.