Ilovethemanofsteel: Hahaha, sorry for the confusion!
CrazyAboutHG: I try, thank you! I will be writing a sequel to this one as well. :)
Lifeasitisknown: I will, thank you!
Katya: Only time will tell, however, I will let you know this. There is a very interesting reason behind it. Any ideas or suggestions about other parts, let me know. :) Hello to you from . . . . Wonderland. ;)
CuteBrunetteThatLovesHG192: Katniss doesn't read it until after the tour, sorry. In a few more chapters you will find out.
Zrexheartz: Haymitch will have many interesting remarks in this story. :)
Oreocookielove2468: I refuse to give up on this story. I will finish it no matter how long it takes! :)
piepie1289: Haha, it's okay. This chapter will be very long – as a gift and a apology for not being able to update for the past few weeks.
Guest: I will, I will, I promise!
Guest: Please, refer to the first story. That should clear that up, or read between the lines. . . that might help.
Browniangel: Katniss is very. . . .confused. Even in the books she was, but it's worse now because of snow. And there is a huge incident that will happen with Roal, just wait. :)
*****DISCLAIMER*****
Haymitch: Lovely does not own any part of the Hunger Games trilogy. And, she –
Me: Fuck you, bitch! *Runs after him*
Haymitch: KATNISS HELP!
Katniss: *filing her nails. . . .looks up* Huh, ha, you're fucked.
Haymitch: HELP ME!
Katniss: Hell no. You got yourself into this one, Haymitch.
Previously:
"It's fine," he says, and pulls away, "I forgave you awhile back."
I don't want him to stop kissing me. My legs wrap around his waist, trapping him, and in response, he quirks his eyebrow and smiles. His body tells me that he feels my longing as he leans down and presses his lips onto mine. He slowly runs his tongue against my bottom lip before pushing it inside. We fight for dominance but in the end, he wins. A moan leaks from his mouth and–
"Sweetheart, I said make up, not make out."
Damn.
Chapter Three: It's Forever
012513
LovelyUnderland
(KPOV)
There are moments where it feels as though the weight of the world is on my shoulders and that the fates have it out for me. I suppose this could be considered one of those moments. In front of me is the President of Panem, otherwise known to me as father.
When I left Haymitch's house, I saw the Capitol cars in front of mine. Three guards escorted me into one of the studies without a word. They were new, or transferred, because none of them were from District 12 and I had met all the old ones in the Capitol.
Mrs Everdeen's face was pale and her body was trembling with anxiety as she walked in the room to deliver tea and cookies. Not once did she look at father. In fact, when he greeted her, she sounded like a mouse as she scurried out of the room. Something that brought much entertainment to father.
Throughout my stay, he never bothered me. The media trailed me everywhere I went, but he never made an appearance or called. To my delight, I hadn't seen him in months. . . .so I don't understand why he is here now. I fly through my thoughts to figure out what I could've done to have him to arrive at my house uninvited. Then again, the president doesn't need an invitation. Does he?
I stop at the memory in the woods a few weeks ago. Gale and I were hunting game when he kissed me out of nowhere. I didn't get the feeling that I did with Peeta. It wasn't a good or unpleasant feeling; if anything, it was awkward and confusing. The only thing Gale said about it was that he had to do it at least once.
My cheeks tingle at his words echoing in my ears. Should I feel ashamed of myself for the kiss? Yes. Am I, though? I really don't know. A large part of me regrets it because I am even more confused than I was before. The other part enjoyed it, not the fact that it was Gale, but because I had missed Peeta doing it. I missed that feeling of being wanted.
"Princess," he begins, folding his hands together on top the desk, "let's make this simple, shall we? Why don't we agree not to lie."
"That would be a fair agreement," I say through the thick air that seems to be smothering me.
Father leans forward so our noses are nearly touching. I can smell the sickening fumes from the rose on his satin lapel, but a metallic scent also registers as the cold, snake-like eyes he has burns holes through my head. Staying still is a difficult task. All I really want to do is go into the woods where I can be free.
"You didn't pull those berries out as an act of love, Katniss." he says.
My blank expression falters.
"Believe me, dear, had the whole country not been so in love with the pathetic idea of you and that boy, I would have had you blown to bits. Unfortunately, Seneca refused to follow orders and allowed you both to live. . . .so, do you know what that means?"
"Yes," I say.
He takes a long sip of his tea and we sit in a moment of silence. His puffy lips are even more thick and pursed. It seems that he's received more alterations done since I last saw him. The reptilian look isn't good on him, but he enjoys it.
"There are many who do not believe your 'love' is real. In the districts there are uprisings beginning and- "
"Uprisings?" I interject, cutting his words short. "What uprisings?"
Anger flickers on his face for a second before it is covered by a sober expression. Father picks up a cheese bun and examines it with a smile before taking a nibble.
"Wonderful, did your mo- " He pauses and clears his throat as if the food had been lodged in his through. I wish it had. "Pardon me. Your most, eloquent mentor– did he make these?"
An indignant snort erupts from me. Haymitch wouldn't cook even if he knew how. Besides, he's rarely sober enough to do so.
"No," I say. "Peeta did."
"Ah, and how is he?"
My throat becomes dry. The teacup I'm holding shows how much my body is shaking, almost as bad as Mrs. Everdeen's was. Peeta is the last person that I want to talk about, but I don't have a choice.
I meet father's gaze long enough to say, "Well enough."
"My sweet daughter," father says in an odd tone. "Are you not as, for lack of a better word, as taken to him as you have the country believing? Well, what about that other boy, Mr. Hawthorne, I believe his name is? Oh, yes, that 'distant relative' of yours."
Ignoring the comment, I swirl the tea around. The conversation, though it has only begun, feels like it has been going on for hours. The mention of Gale jumps my stomach.
"Would it be possible for you to get to the point of your visit?" I blurt out.
"Tread the waters with caution, Katniss," he whispers in an almost inaudible tone. "I have no intention of harming my own flesh and blood."
"Father, I thought we agreed not to lie to each other?" I hiss through clenched teeth.
From behind the desk, Father gives out a hearty laugh that fills the room. I've never heard him laugh before –well, not like this, anyway– because this one sounds sincere and adoring. His face turns a deep shade of red as he continues.
"Very well spotted, my dear. I shall rephrase my words. Be careful with those you do not know. Many people are looking for any way to harm you and any reason to revolt. You see, you have ignited a spark that, if left unattended, may grow into a flame of destruction. You alone have provided a reason to revolt. . . .and you alone have the power to tame that."
Before he leaves the room, Father puts a hand on my shoulder. There is so much pressure that it aches. And then says the last thing that I ever expected.
"Watch your step, Katniss. While I have spared your life, I do not know if I can continue with the leniency if you fail to convince the people of your. . .love. Do listen to me when I say that a revolt is not the right way to go. I don't know if I could stand putting my own daughter to death because, though you greatly resemble your mother, you still mean a great deal to me, Kitten."
Kitten?
Father hasn't called me that since I was a very young girl. It was a nickname he created for me when I was four. I can only remember him using it a few times, but each time was a rare moment between us that I've pushed into the dark corners of my mind.
Gravity is against me. I can't bring myself to rise from the office chair. My knuckles have gone white and my jaw has locked shut. Inside, the anger I feel for the man is ebbing away. Why is this happening to me? Why can't I keep that anger held against him? Because deep down I know that he meant what he said.
Yes, but he meant all of it.
"Katniss, dear, are you okay?"
Mrs. Everdeen is knelt down in front of me with a cold hand pressed against my forehead. With eyes full of worry, she looks me over for any sign of disturbance. It took me quite some time to allow her to treat me as a mother would a baby. Eleania, father's worker, was the closest thing to a mother that I've ever had and even she could only loosely qualify as one.
"I'm fine," I say with a shrug.
"What– what did President Snow want?" she asks.
"Oh, he just wanted to wish me luck."
I give her the best smile I can plaster on my face and find the strength to stand from the chair. Prim is standing in the doorway. She knows I've lied. Thankfully, she remains silent as she leads me to the bath that has been prepared for me.
Prim is a small girl with light skin, long blond hair, and big, blue eyes. She resembles Peeta like I resemble Gale. And, like Peeta, she sees almost everything with great optimism and tries to help everyone. Loving Prim is easy, since she's so sweet and innocent. In the week I stayed with the Everdeens before the Games, she quickly became a little sister to me.
The warm water envelopes my body like a warm blanket as I step into it. It calms me, but doesn't end my thoughts. Father. Peeta. Gale. They're all invading my head and bringing up unwanted memories. Currently, I can only think about the kiss between Gale and I. . . .and how Peeta will react.
He will be mad at me, again. By allowing Gale's lips on mine, I've broken Peeta's trust. I'm absolutely positive that father already knows about the kiss. There are cameras everywhere.
"Katniss!" three voices chorus, as they scatter my wayward thought.
Turning my head to the door, I see three very Capitol-looking people with wide smiles on their faces. Octavia, Venia, and Flavius. My prep team. Venia's hair has been dyed aqua blue and given a pointed look. If her head was any closer to mine, she would've poked an eye out. Golden tattoos frame her wide eyes and her blue lips formed a shocked O.
Octavia, a plumpish woman with skin tinted a light evergreen, walks over and pulls me out of the bath. Had I not been used to my nude body being exposed to my prep team, I would've fought against her. Octavia looks me up and down and narrows her eyes at me.
"You could've at least left us something to work with! Honestly, your nails have been bitten to stubs and your eyebrows have grown into bushes!" Octavia shrieks.
Flavius takes a few steps to me and fumbles with my hair. Flavius is the only male of the group though he has very feminine eyes with extremely long eyelashes and a very thin figure. His tight, orange curls bounce on his head as he circles me, huffing and puffing about take care of my hair.
"Did you even listen to us about your hair? Has anyone messed with it?" he asks grumpily.
"Of course," I answer proudly, because it's the only thing I actually did listen to them about.
Content with my response, they wrap me in a plush robe and begin their work. They ramble on about every topic that pops in their mind and, for a while, I'm not bothered by it. That ends when they begin to discuss this year's Hunger Games. This year the Games will be the Quarter Quell.
Put simply, the Quarter Quell occurs every twenty-five years. Each Quell increases the excitement for the Games by adding twists to the extremes. . . .twists such as adding double the amount of tributes to the Games.
"You will be a mentor this year! How exciting!" Venia squeals, nearly bouncing on her toes.
"I wonder what the surprise will be!" Flavius exclaims with a grin.
The three go on and on until Mrs. Everdeen walks in. Wringing her hands in front of her, she explains that Cinna wanted her to teach the group how to braid my hair. Flavius, Venia, and Octavia then watch in awe as Mrs. Everdeen gracefully turns my hair. Their eyes follow and consume her every movement with enthusiasm.
Once they have mastered braiding my hair, I am released downstairs, where Cinna and Effie are waiting for me. Effie immediately jumps into her squawking about the schedule, arrangements, and attitude. Right as I am about to tell her to shut her mouth, Cinna speaks up.
He tells me that I have developed a passion for designing clothes, which was of course inspired by him. Every victor is supposed to have some hobby of sorts that they take up after the Games since they are wealthy enough to never have to work again. Nothing we tried fit me, so Cinna chose my talent.
Cinna's sketch book shows beautiful dressed that have the Capitol look and still look relatively normal. I smirk at him as I gaze around the room where he has posted all different types of fabrics, clothing, and designs.
"Well, I dare say that I show a lot of promise, Cinna." I say.
"Get dressed, you worthless thing," Cinna chuckles as he throws a rolled-up pile of clothes at me.
As I dress, I can see Prim being interviewed in another room. She's beautifully put together, I note, as she teeters back and forth on her toes. She's like a bird about to fly. I hear a soft giggle and–
Rue. I see Rue standing there. The small girl from District 11 that died in the arena. The scene flashes in front of me. Her screams, the spear piercing her small chest, and the arrow that I sent through the boy that killed her, Marvel.
They weren't the only ones who died because of my actions, but I don't have time to torture myself with that knowledge because Cinna is putting a coat on me. The fur tickles my arms and the scarf holds my neck. He places earmuffs on me. I don't like them because they remind me of when I lost my hearing in the arena.
With the Mockingjay pin in her grasp, Mrs. Everdeen rushes over to me and pins it on the coat. She kisses my cheek, wishes me luck, and then takes her place by Prim's side.
"Attention, attention, everyone! We are going out to take the first shot where the victors will greet each other to begin the tour!" Effie announces and then, literally, pushes me out the door.
I sway to catch my balance and shoot her daggers. The snow falling blanks out my vision for a bit. I can barely see Peeta walking out his front door when I run straight into his arms as if I can't stand the wait. He spins me and we go tumbling down. Peeta lost his leg in our Games and he still struggles with his command of the artificial one.
Peeta holds out his hand to help me up. In his eyes I can see– hurt? Yes, hurt. The only thing I can come up with is that, despite saying otherwise, he hasn't fully forgiven me.
From the village to the train station, Peeta and I put on our show. Everything is actually a blur to me. I can't even remember what we had for dinner on the train. And now, I'm in my bed listening to the train that has lulled almost everyone to sleep.
I am never able to sleep well while it's dark out. However, it's the anxiety and father that have me up tonight. Finally, I get up and wander down the train halls until I reach Haymitch's room. He's awake, I know it, because he never sleeps while it's dark, but I still have to knock several times before he responds.
"What is it, sweetheart?" he groans.
The nauseating smell of alcohol pours out of his room and into the hall. Fortunately, his eyes have yet to glaze over so he is still coherent.
"I need to talk to you," I say with urgency in my voice.
"This better be good," he grumbles and takes me to the back of the train.
Everything is bugged, so I don't dare talk until I pull Haymitch outside, explaining to a Capitol attendant that Haymitch is drunk when he stumbles down the stairs. Once out, I tell him everything of father's visit and Gale's kiss.
"You kissed– Katniss why in hell would you do that?" Haymitch hisses, spraying spit all over the place.
"HE– KISSED– ME!" I growl louder than I intend to.
"Do you understand what your father was implying?" he says still clenching his teeth.
"Who in hell could understand my father? If you think you do, humour me because even after living with him for nearly seventeen years, I still don't."
My fists are curled at my side. Why I feel mad that Haymitch thinks he understands my father better than I do is a mystery to me. I'm not jealous though. That's ridiculous.
"You-Cannot-Fail." Haymitch says articulating every word with a poke to my shoulder.
"What does that even mean?"
"If you don't convince everyone you love Peeta, you will stir the people into a full rebellion. If you fail, he will not only kill you, but everyone else you care for."
Ice forms in my throat, and it burns.
"Haymitch," I say with a thick voice. "Haymitch, help me get through this trip. Please, just this- "
"It is not just this trip," he says in a low and furious voice.
I have words on the tip of my tongue, but no matter my efforts, I can't speak.
"This 'romance' you two have is set in stone. You will never be able to escape it. They will revisit it every year. You and Peeta are stuck together, whether or not you like it. It is forever."
Despite the cold snow on the tracks, I lower myself to the ground. My legs are weak and wobbly, and standing doesn't seem like an option for me. I have no choice but to stay with Peeta forever– to love him forever. He's an amazing guy, there is no doubt about that. Peeta could make any girl fall for him and love him. But I don't. I don't love him. . . . because love isn't real. It is just a fairytale.
