Chapter 3: A Married Merchant Woman

Neither Daddy nor Prim ask about the big bag of coins when I gather them for breakfast early the next morning. Even if they suspect its origins insofar as what it took for me to get it, they keep these ruminations to themselves. Having fulfilled our 'one-meal-together-as-a-family' for today, I help Daddy back to bed and then take Prim to school. No longer do I grace the halls of education with my presence - feeding my family required me to give up such useless things. As it is, I have enough education to keep myself alive. I do expect more for Prim, though, and desire her to be the best that she can be. Her future is more valuable than mine.

With the money I earned from Peeta, I am able to buy food for once instead of providing it, along with many other household necessities. I return my shopping to our house and begin to integrate it into our meager existence. Perhaps such funds can allow my family to stay alive a little longer until the next tesserae.

Around noon, I have just finished feeding my daddy lunch when there is a knock at the door. When I answer, I nearly fall over when I see it is Peeta Mellark. Did he come all the way from school just to talk to me? Is this his chance to berate me for leaving him alone last night after our love-making?

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"To see you." He suddenly takes my hand, keeping it tight in his grip before I can pull away. "I saw you from the school window bringing all this stuff back. I knew you were poor, but I did not know it was so bad!"

"Well, your donation helped and we should be fine for now. Thank you," I say stiffly.

"Maybe, but not forever," he rationalizes. And he has a point.

I avert my eyes from his gaze. "What more can you give?" I whisper.

"My hand. In marriage."

I turn back to him, eyes wide with shock. I remember those odd words he managed to utter in the heat of passion, about how he wanted to marry me. "You were serious?" After that, I am speechless. Marriages between Merchant and Seam are rare, almost non-existent. The last known case was actually my parents, in a love story both epic and scandalous. For Peeta to willingly give up his Merchant status would mean ostracizsement by his neighbors, if not disownment from his family. And he would have me? A poor Seam girl who is not very pretty? And who would not easily conform to or complete the domestic accomplishments of a typical housewife? I shake him off.

"Ridiculous. You're being ridiculous. This is foolish!"

"Maybe for me, it is. But I don't care what other people say. If we marry, you would have access to my fortune. At least enough money so your father and sister wouldn't want for anything."

Right away, I can read into what he is saying. This is a marriage that doesn't have to be about love, but about economics. And it would benefit me. Certainly it will not benefit Peeta, but perhaps he is not thinking of that or believes it to be a sacrifice he is willing to make. I think back to our sexual intercourse last night in the woods, and realize it was not an out-of-character gesture that Peeta extended to me. I know this much about him: he is known for having a kind and sweet reputation - a rarity among men in our district. I have heard many a horror story of husbands who beat their wives. My father is another exception to this rule.

And I realize that any girl would be fortunate to have Peeta as a husband, whether the marriage was based on love or not. Peeta is offering security for myself and for my family and with no perceivable gain for himself. So what if we enter into this contract with the understanding that we may never take each other to bed? The understanding that I would cook and clean for him, but never bear any children of his?

So I nod. "Yes. I accept. I will marry you."

Peeta actually grins.

"Come... come by tonight, and we... can have a toasting?" I stammer. Words I never thought I'd say, for I had once sworn that I would never marry.

"Sure, and I'll bring a preacher; the documents to sign. We can keep it very discreet and not have to go to the Justice Building."

"Yes, I think that would be best," I nod, my face blank. Peeta can say he does not care of other's opinions over his chosen bride, but it will only help him if as few people know as possible. We can keep it a secret. I think.

Peeta pauses on the stoop for a moment, as if he wants to say something else. Then he moves towards me. Startled, I take a step back. "What are you doing?"

"Will you just stand still?" Then he pulls me to him and kisses me right on the lips. For a moment, I give in, and then we break apart. I blink, recovering from my shock.

"I'll see you tonight," Peeta whispers. And then he hustles off back towards the school. I stare after him, a hand to my lips, unsure of what just happened.

As soon as Prim returns home from school, I hustle her into our bedroom, where our mother's old wedding dress lies on the bed. I ask her to help me into it, and to not ask any questions. Eyes shining in excitement while still befuddled as to why I am donning a bridal gown, Prim helps me into it and we even take it up ourselves so that it fits me.

Dusk falls. The moon is rising into the sky when there is a knock at the door. I answer it, Prim right behind me, to find Peeta Mellark and the clerk from the Justice Building waiting outside. Peeta looks - I have to admit it - handsome in a pressed tuxedo. Prim gasps upon seeing him.

"You're marrying Peeta? Why? Did you have an affair?"

"Primrose, hush," I order, not taking my eyes off the young man before me, the young man who is to be my husband.

Peeta glances down at Prim, who ducks shyly behind me. "Does she know?"

"She does now," I shrug. "We need at least one witness, and anyway, she can keep quiet."

Peeta grins slyly. "I suppose I can swipe a few frosted cookies as payment for her silence," he muses, loud enough for my sister to hear. I smirk. Bribery of the highest order - Prim absolutely loves the cookies from the Mellark Bakery. In our family, they are a rare delicacy that we can only afford on special holidays, like Parcel Day.

"You look beautiful," Peeta's compliment jolts me out of my thoughts. I oddly find myself blushing.

"So do you. I mean, handsome. You look... handsome," I trip over my words, and want to hide my face in embarrassment. I'm going to be a horrible spouse if I can't even compliment my husband in a coherent fashion!

I usher Peeta and the Clerk inside. Primrose runs upstairs to fetch Daddy, wheeling his sickbed down the ramp I installed to lay over the stairs. Even though I am marrying in the dead of night to a boy I hardly know, I am certain my father would want to see his oldest daughter get married. Peeta nods in his direction.

"I promise to take care of your daughter faithfully, sir."

Though I can tell Daddy is surprised by my choice, the irony of his own wedding to my mother is not lost on him. He smiles in approval and as a way to give his blessing to Peeta's and my union. Perhaps he thinks it is fitting.

As the Clerk conducts the ceremony, and Peeta and I exchange customary District 12 wedding vows, Primrose stokes the fire. By the time simple rings have been exchanged, my sister approaches with a plate of toasted bread. Breaking it, Peeta and I share the bread, as is tradition. No one in Twelve feels truly married until after a Toasting.

Or at least not until... I now move to embrace my new husband. Peeta takes a step back. "What are you doing?"

I smile - a real, genuine smile - as I recall our exchange from earlier. "Will you just stand still?" Pulling his neck down to me, I kiss him on the mouth. The kiss that seals our marriage is actually passionate on my part, and I feel my eyes close, sense my lips molding to his as I deepen the kiss. At last, we draw apart. Prim dutifully applauds, and I can tell my father has tears in his eyes that he cannot wipe away himself. So I do so for him, kissing away the saltiness from his face.

"I love you, Daddy."

After returning Daddy to his room, I take Peeta up to what used to be Prim's and my bed, and will now be... ours. Prim accepts a demotion onto the living room couch without complaint.

However, I do not sexually pleasure my husband in our marriage bed, on our wedding night. I have a lot to think about, chiefly over how exactly this thrown-together marriage is going to work. Will there be affection allowed? Will there be sex of any kind? Or is this just an alliance and not a union between two people in love? Nothing can be done unless rules are decided upon, and that can wait at least until tomorrow. Turning off the light, I turn under the covers so that I am facing away from my... husband without even saying good night. I hear him say so, though, just before we both fall asleep.