Part 2: The fair Captain Peeta Mellark.
The sun is bright and the air warm and electric by the time I reach the main square. I can see the stern and dark figure of the cathedral, watching how the usually quiet and sad habitants of Panem prepare themselves for the festivities with refreshing joy.
I have beautiful memories of this time of year, the prepping of the Festival of Fools. My father, being the city's most renowned baker, had a lot to bake for the big day, and my two older brothers and I would gladly help with the cookies and cakes that people ordered. My favorite task was the frosting of the cakes, for which my father gave me full liberty to decide on the designs.
I smile at where my train of thought has lead me. I guess after being at war, seeing your partners die for years in an endless sequence of destruction, you are bound to feel nostalgic over frosted flowers and warm ovens. And over a lost family.
But my duty in the war is over. And now I am back at home, the solemn Panem, to fulfill a new duty with my country. I am here to become the new Head Peacekeeper of the city, to replace the deceased Commander Cray. Nobody knows exactly how he died. The rumors go from heart attack to murder by the gypsies. I have never been one for gossip and after the war the threat of gypsies feels almost laughable.
But I make a mental note not to mention this to my direct boss, the honorable Minister of Justice, Coriolanus Snow. The man has retained the title for the last fifty years and it's mainly his endless war on the gypsies what keeps him in the Justice Building.
I climb down from my faithful horse, Buttercup, and let him drink the water from the public fountain while I stretch my legs. It's been a long ride, in witch we barely stopped for slumber, since my presence was asked specifically for the Festival of Fools that takes place tomorrow.
"You'll be alright for a moment on your own, right Buttercup?" I ask him, while gently patting his mane. Buttercup whinnies in response and I leave him for a moment to observe our surroundings. I see a patch of greenery and flowers of my favorite color, the warm shade of orange that can be admired in a sunset, and I walk towards it to look closely.
A sweet melody distracts me and I diverge from my path. The music is soft and melancholic but at the same time happy and hopeful, like a love poem. I follow it to a side alley, where a slim figure contorts in graceful movements making her skirt fly in sync with the sound of the guitar. Her hair is the color of an ebony tree and her skin a beautiful sun-kissed tone that contrast with the light faded blue of her dress. I feel enraptured by the beauty of the image.
And then her voice rises to the air, taking all of mine from my lungs. It's a magical sound, full of color and passion that traps me to my spot. Suddenly, it feels like the whole world has disappeared, leaving no air to breathe, no space to lose her in, no time to age together in, and all that remains is this angel and I, a desperate child begging for the warm embrace of this holy creature, frozen in this moment forever.
The songs ends and the people clap around me. The reality of the world crushes through me like a cold water bucket and I panic. I need to talk to this woman who has stolen my heart with a note of a song.
I walk decidedly towards her, who is already picking up the coins the spectators left her. The guy with the guitar, a dark skinned man who looks like it could be her cousin, picks some of the money and makes a move to leave. "Come on, Catnip. They'll be here in no time. Hurry up!"
And with that, the guitar player banishes from the alley, barely making a sound on his way. The girl moves to follow him and in a desperate move I grab her arm. She looks up at me in panic and my words die in my throat at the very site of her silvery eyes.
"Who…? Why…?" she mumbles, trying to loosen my grip on her arm. "Are you a Peacekeeper?"
I wake up from my daze and let go of her arm, feeling rather improper to have touched her without her consent. "I apologize. I'm afraid your haunting voice and beauty has bewitched me somehow and made me forget my manners, my lady. I felt absolutely compelled to introduce myself to you," I explain.
I stand up straight and vow to her. "I am Captain Peeta Mellark, retired soldier from the Dark War, and no, I am not a Peacekeeper but I will be soon."
I see one hundred emotions pass through her eyes but only manage to recognize a few: confusion, recognition, distrust and amusement. She stares at me, waiting for a something that never comes. I start to feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her bright eyes.
"May I ask for your name, my lady?" I ask her. She shakes her head no and looks pass me, probably concern that the Peacekeepers will come. "How about another song, then?" I insist, while searching in my pocket for my last coin. I thrust it in her hand and she looks at me, her eyes narrow in suspicion.
"Peacekeepers are supposed to stop gypsies from disturbing the peace in Panem, not encourage it," she tells me. I smile at that. "Like I said, I am not a Peacekeeper yet. And your voice would never disturb the peace, but bring more of it to people's hearts," I dare to add.
She laughs heartily at that and I fall in love with the musicality of the sound. Her face glows in amusement and I decide I want more of this beauty in my life. "Okay, then. If you are so eager to make poetry about it…" she mocks me, but I don't mind because she's humoring my request. "Any particular song you want to hear or…"
I shake my head no. She starts singing again, no guitar or dancing this time, a song about a place to call home and let your children run freely and safe. She avoids eye contact with me, focusing instead on the lapel of my jacket, and I must refrain myself from tilting her chin up to gaze into her stormy eyes.
The sound of hooves hitting the cobbled path stops her midsentence and pure fear covers her features. I look behind me and discover the group of three Peacekeepers that ride their horses in the main street, without knowing, in our direction. I look at Buttercup on the other side of the street and take out the carrot I was going to give him for breakfast and toss it across the street with a low whistle.
As expected, Buttercup hears my signal and runs for his meal, never minding blocking the path of the Peacekeepers' horses and successfully distracting them from their original path into the alley. I turn around to the girl, but she's already climbing the side of a house. She leaps and lands on the roof smoothly, like she was a cat herself. I am in complete awe when she turns around and whispers in my direction, "Thank you for that, my Captain".
"Please, tell me your name," is the last words I say to her back, before she disappears without a sound over the roof of the house.
—·—
My first meeting with the Minister of Justice goes by in a rush due to the preparations for the festivities. He's a strange looking man, with red puffy lips and snake-like eyes, and the superior attitude of a man with too much power for his own good. He receives me with little introduction and explains me some of the things he expects of me as the new Head Peacekeeper.
"This is a sacred role you've been given, Captain Mellark, and you must take pride in the honor of being my right hand." He then leans towards me, his strong blood-like breaths making my eyes water a bit, and I have to fight the urge to pull away. "We are in this position as it was God's intention for us to be. We're here to fulfill his duty, to cleanse the city from the vermin that corrupts her."
He looks directly at me, his expression cold and full of hate, and whispers, "The gypsies".
I nod absentmindedly. I have no interest in his personal persecution against the gypsies and I plan to follow the rules by the book, not his insane caprice. I will not participate in it if I can help it. But I know better than to oppose him openly.
Apparently satisfied with my response, the minister dismisses me and I am left to attend to my personal affairs, which mostly involve getting acquaintance with my landlord in the house that has received me. As an orphan of the Great Fire of the City, I have no family to ask for assistance, or lands to reclaim. But my name remains unsullied and even glorified by my military career; therefore the mother of a late former campaign partner agrees to receive me for a few coins until I can find a place to settle.
The next day, I present for work an hour before the beginning of my shift. I introduce myself to my subordinates, who are not very thrilled, as to be expected, that a man foreign to the institution has taken the place most of them must be craving. These are not ideal circumstances to work in, but I'll manage. After all, I've been through worst.
I organize the troops in different places around the square, where the majority of the population will be, and left a few smaller squads to make rounds around the rest of the city, where thieves could try and take advantage of the Festival to strike the nearly empty neighborhoods.
"It's a nice plan and all, boss," a blond named Cato, who seems to think his height and broad shoulders are menacing, quips, "but you probably don't need those little squads. The Festival of Fools is a gypsy festivity."
I cock my eyebrow at him, not following his train of thought.
"All the gypsies will be at the square…so the rest of the city will be calm and peaceful. No crimes at all," he smirks. I ignore the comment and decide to put him on one of the small squads, which does not please him.
Once all the teams are set, I go a fetch Buttercup to start our rounds. Behind me, three of the Peacekeepers with the best evaluations from the previous Head Peacekeeper ride their own horses. We are to make rounds through the crowd in the square, to assure no problems disrupt the fun.
I can observe part of the show at some points. A bronze hair man in a mermaid costume, who calls himself the King of Truants, now runs the festival and presents the various spectacles including one in which he recites poems himself. The people are elated and cheer at them gleefully with the carefreeness that seems to define this day.
The change happens in a moment, after the King of Truants presents the main act of the evening. The word Silver resonates in the now silent crowd as the smoke fills the stage. I recognize her silhouette immediately, before the glow of her red dress is visible making her look like a living flame. She dances and her dress moves with her, creating an illusion of fire encasing her petite body. And I crave to touch her again, to reach out to feel her smooth caramel skin.
"Captain!" Peacekeeper Marvel shouts at me to gain my attention. "Should we move to continue our rounds?" he asks in confusion. I nod and instruct Buttercup to move, turning in the direction of the stage.
When we reach the side of the stage I realize we are calling too much attention to ourselves. I want to steal a glance at the beautiful dancer, but I can't do it unnoticed unless we go on foot.
"We should take a leap without the horses, make sure everything is all right in the back," I explain, while tying Buttercup to the pole. The Peacekeepers seem perplex but don't question me and do the same with their horses, and follow after me.
The beautiful girl is in the back talking merrily with the King of Truants, when a person concealed in a dark coat moves to take a red shawl from the girl. I react before I even know what I am doing.
"Don't move a muscle, you filthy little thief," I growl at the disguised person, who turns to me but continues to hide her features from my sight. I venture a look above her, at the place where the girl was talking a moment ago only to find her alone, her gaze fixated on mine.
"My lady," I explain to the accusatory silvery eyes, "this thief was trying to steal your shawl."
In anger, I tear the hood of the coat from the thief's head. The Peacekeepers behind me make sounds of disgust to the sight of her scarred face. But it's not her scar what surprises me, but the expression of utter fear in her features. It's an expression I have seen many times before in the war, in orphan children and beaten females. The resemblance takes me aback since people in Panem are protected from those kinds of sufferings. Or they are supposed to be.
"Captain Mellark," Silver run towards us, taking the shawl from my hand and gracing over my fingers ever so slightly. "I don't think it's necessary to involve the justice into this," she murmurs in a sweet low voice that makes my heart leaps in my chest, but the laughter of the Peacekeepers behind me awakens me to the reality of the situation.
"Mind your own business, show girl," Peacekeeper Marvel spits. "And be thankful of the Captain's benevolence for not taking you to justice, filthy gypsy."
I must refrain myself not to take out my sword and cut the insolent schmuck in half. Instead of that, I simply send him away with the thief. "Peacekeeper Marvel, please take the prisoner to the Justice Building," I demand. "His grace, Master Coriolanus Snow will see her punishment."
"Captain, please, there must be a way to overlook this," Silver cries with pure desperation as the guard takes the girl with him. I signal the boys to continue the rounds without me.
"I am the Head Peacekeeper," I respond. "I can't overlook crimes." She eyes me then, as if asking me in silence about the day before, but says nothing about the incident.
"I guess a lot can change in a day," she remarks, her eyes sad when they look away.
I look behind me. We are alone in the back of the stage. "Maybe today you will tell me your name," I whisper. She lifts her gaze at me, surprised.
"Why would you want to know?" she questions.
"I need a name for owner of the most beautiful voice I have ever heard," I state solemnly. She narrows her eyes in suspicion, making the silver in them shine even brighter.
"They call me Silver," she says, "because of my eyes."
"But that's not your real name," I take a guess. She nods. "May I have your real name?"
She hesitates and purses her lips in the most entrancing way I have ever seen. I want the feel of those lips on my own more than I want my next meal. I feel a warm sensation in my lower abdomen and I know I am lost forever because of this girl. Whatever she asks of me I will give to her.
I lean into her, tempting an arm around her waist and searching her lips for a kiss. Her scent is intoxicating and her breath so very warm and delicate. I want to get lost in her in this very moment, in this very place.
"It's Katniss," she mumbles, pulling away from me. I sigh, defeated after her rejection.
I watch her face change with a dozen of different emotions, like a storm that ravages an otherwise calm, beautiful landscape. I don't know what I expected but it's definitely not the image of her turning on me on anger and poking on my chest.
"You don't understand, do you?" Katniss sneers at me. "What you did to that girl?"
I look at her bewilder. "She committed a crime, Katniss. But the punishment can't be that great, it was a small offence."
"You really don't know," she shouts. "If she had fair skin like you, maybe you would be right. But the punishments are not the same for those of us with a darker shade of skin color. You sent her to the wolf that hunts down my people!"
"There will be nothing just about the punishment that girl will receive!" she finishes.
There's a loud noise nearby. She looks behind me then and I turn to look for the source of the commotion, but everything seems to be in order. When I turn to Katniss, though, there's no sign of her.
—·—
It is with shame that I see how right was Katniss. The poor girl takes the 20 lashes and nearly faints from the pain, but after that, her punishment isn't over. The people of Panem observe the ordeal in a mixture of judgment and apprehension, but mainly refrain themselves of participate in further humiliating the girl. Some of the peacekeepers throw rotten fruit at her, but a signal from me it's all that takes for them to stop.
When the girl pleas for water, I am not surprised to see Katniss walking up to the pillory and making the girl drink from her pouch and cleaning the sweat from her brow with her shawl. But I am rendered speechless, for I have never met a person like this girl, so full of compassion and forgiveness. Watching her now, murmuring soft words to that poor mangled girl, my heart aches for her.
And I can see around me how the rest of the people react to her actions. These people used to be hoarded by the law and under fear of terrible punishment, are astounded by this selfless gypsy girl, who has nothing more than any of them but a bigger heart.
"That is enough!" I hear a growl to my left, where the Minister of Justice stands right next to me, fuming in anger. Katniss turns and looks at where we are standing. "You're interfering with a sentence, gypsy. Step away from the pillory!"
"Only when you release this poor girl!" she screams, fearless and powerful despite her size. "She has completed her sentence already! Let her go!"
"How dare you to question my authority? Don't you know who you are talking to?" Snow reddens in anger and his eyes promise a hell to be unbound.
"Oh, everybody knows who you are, your grace! You're the reason this city is perishing to hunger and fear!" she screams back at him. The expression on the minister changes and suddenly I am more than afraid for Katniss.
"Captain, arrest that girl! Now!" I look at Katniss, hating my place in this ordeal more than ever, but move towards her nonetheless. She turns back to the girl for a moment and then dives in the crowd, disappearing from my view in matter of seconds. I try to look for her, but there are too many people in the square, all of them seemingly collaborating to her hiding.
"Marvel, Cato, look at the south end. Brutus and Gloss, I want you in the north exit," I start directing the Peacekeepers, while silently praying that we won't find her, no matter what that might mean to me as Head Peacekeeper.
—·—
The search for Katniss fortunately turns out to be unsuccessful. The Minister calls me to his chamber to demand of me to bring the insolent girl to him, to pay for her crimes not mattering if it means to burn the entire city to the ground. I salute him and prepare the search party, keeping to myself my opinion on how this is more about a bruised ego than a crime and, further more, how despicable of him is to suggest a new destructive fire as a mean to obtain what he wants.
I shudder at the though of him finding Katniss, putting her in the position that other girl was in today, humiliating her to asses his power over her and all his detractors. I now realize that the reason Coriolanus Snow has remained so long in power has more to due with how aggressively he puts down his detractors than how much good he has brought to his supporters.
Despite the order of using all the troops for this task, I leave half of them to attend the regular matters of the city. I refuse to let this city at the mercy of crime for the whim of an old man, even if I have to at least pretend to follow his instructions. I disguise my antagonism by ordering the men I am sending to general duty that they are still looking for the girl but in secret and that they must bring any information they might obtain to me.
It's a dangerous move, but if anyone finds her, I hope it is me, for I could help her leave the city. There's a city two days on horse from here, where gypsies are not persecuted like in Panem. Buttercup could take her there and she'd be safe. But for that, I must get to her before the Minister does.
The day ends without any clue of where Katniss might have run away to, and I feel a little hope. "Gypsies do this all the time, Captain," Peacekeeper Dairus tells me, while pushing his red hair away from his forehead. "They disappear into thin air. Some say there is a secret city somewhere in here, the Court of Miracles, where they hide from Minister Snow".
"How could they hide an entire city under our noses?" I ask, incredulous to this old folks tale.
Darius shrugs but looks down meaningfully. Underground, I realize. Using the sewer system they could disappear in matter of seconds. I recall how every time I've seen Katniss, she banishes as fast as a lightning. And not only her, but also the other gypsies I've seen her with, like the guitar player from the first time I saw her or the King of Truants.
I keep this information to myself, though. I am sure it will be at service at some point, if it ever comes to smuggle Katniss out of the city. So far she seems to be doing well on her own, though, which foolishly gives me hope on keeping her close to me for a little longer.
The next day, we interrogate the citizens for information on Katniss. Most of them say that they only know her as Silver as she usually dances in the streets when peacekeepers are not around, but they haven't seen her since the day prior, when the incident in the square took place.
"They are lying," Peacekeeper Cato spits out at me. "They aren't telling us anything because we're not being hard enough with them."
"There's no proof of them committing any crime, therefore no need for use to use brute force, Peacekeeper Cato," I reply.
"I don't mean to undermine you, Captain, but we don't need to use the brute force just make them think we will," Peacekeeper Brutus says to my right. "Let us try with the next family, Captain. We promise results."
I stare at him dubiously but agree anyway, prepared to stop them if anything gets out of hand. They both separate from me and go to the next house on foot, while I stay behind with the horses. A middle-aged, dark skinned woman answers the door and looks at us in fear. "How may I help you, gentlemen?"
"We are looking for the gypsy that goes by the name of Silver for the crime of obstruction of justice," Peacekeeper Brutus growls at her, making her shake like a leave on her spot.
"I don't know where she is, gentlemen," she mumbles.
In matter of a second, Brutus holds her arm and pulls her away from the doorway to push her to the ground, making her fall on her knees in front of both him and Cato. The woman lets out a whimper and keeps her eyes on the ground. I climb down from my horse quickly, seeing that this is going nowhere but south.
"You're a gypsy too, aren't you old hag?" Brutus growls again. "Do you really expect us to believe you don't know where your disgusting kind hides?"
"I swear I don't know where she is," the woman cries openly now, hugging her middle.
"Don't lie!" Peacekeeper Cato shouts at her and draws out his sword.
"Peacekeeper, put your sword back in its case," I demand, but both Brutus and him turn to me with their swords in hand.
"I don't think we are going to keep on listening to your orders, Captain," Cato mocks me. "The Minister wanted us to bring you to Justice, but I think he will be very pleased to know we got rid of the gypsy lover anyway."
Years of working in the military had taught me when an enemy is about to pounce. No matter that they are two and I am only one, there is a clear advantage in my knowledge of real battles and expertise in sword fighting and hand to hand combat. But it would be too easy for them to force the old gypsy to surrender, only to murder her in front of me right after. I know how men like this think and therefore I know she must flee the scene right away.
"Run!" I scream to the old lady, while I block a swing from Cato and push him off me. Brutus is in front of me in an instant but I am quickly to disarm him. He reaches for the blade in his boots and throws it at me but I duck just in time, managing to pierce through the lower edge of his armor and wound him. The blade comes out bloody and he stumbles and falls against the front of the house.
A loud step alerts me that Cato is back, but I am not fast enough to block him and his sword hits my left thigh. Piercing pain shouts through my body and I stumble for a moment. Cato laughs believing he's won.
In that moment, a frying pan flies to the side of his head, making him fall to the ground in confusion. The old woman drops the pan in horror and runs towards me. "Hurry up, your must hide now!" she urges me, pushing me to the side of the house.
We reach a small dead-end alley and I panic. Cato will come after us, and with my leg wounded I won't be fast enough to defend the both of us. But then, I see her kick a rock and jump into a hole in the ground. I stare at the place she was a second ago for a moment until I hear her voice from under me.
"Come on! Before he comes and see the entryway!" she whispers loudly.
I look back to make sure Cato is not behind me and I imitate the move, kicking the rock, that moves a little and I jump in the hole in the ground. My boots splashes in the water of the sewer and my eyes take time to adjust. I am about to say something when I feel a finger press to my lips in a silent plea for me to be quiet.
Then I hear grumbling over me, some cursing, and then footsteps fading away. The woman lets me go and smiles at me. "Thank you for that, Captain, but I'm afraid you have become an outlaw now too."
I laugh quietly. "It appears so," I sigh.
"Don't worry, Captain. Miss Katniss will be happy to tend to you," she smirks. I look at her in astonishment, which makes her grin. "You will find her if you follow the blue path," she says while showing me a streak of paint that stretches through the wall to the west. "That's the path to the Court of Miracles."
My jaw drops and I swallow thickly. "Are you coming with me?" I ask her.
"No, I must go find my kids and alert them on what happened," she explains. "But if anything happens, you just say that you're sent there by Hazelle Hawthorne, okay boy?"
I smile at the use of the word boy, since no one has called me that in over a decade, and nod. I search in my pocket and retrieve my old pocket watch. "I don't have much with me, but please accept this as payment for your help."
Hazelle smiles at me but shakes her head. "No need for that boy. We gypsies, we help our kind." And with that cryptic message she disappears in the shadows and leaves me alone in the dark.
—·—
I follow the blue streak of paint through endless passages for what must be hours until I reach a small clearing.
"Peeta?" a musical voice calls. I halt in surprise to the sound of my first name, instead of my title, when I see her graciously walking towards me. "Oh, no, Peeta, you're hurt," she cries when she sees the wound in my left thigh.
"Sword fight," I explain curtly. She nods. "Hazelle Hawthorne sent me here, to find you."
She nods again. "Yes, my friend Gale alerted me. I came to find you before you reached the Court of Miracles. I am going to smuggle you in without them knowing."
"Why?" I question.
"Because it's illegal for non-gypsies to enter the Court," she tells me, while holding my hand between hers. "Now, let's go. We need to tend that wound."
Katniss covers my hair and face, to fair to pass for gypsies' features with a brown shawl, but my armor can't be hidden, so we remove it. I am left in almost only my undergarments but, funnily enough, Katniss seems more embarrassed by my state of undress that myself. "We'll find you something to wear in the Court," she says, more to herself than to me.
Finally, we reach a bigger, well-illuminated clearing filled with tents of all the colors and music, laughter and easiness. Katniss pulls me through the passages with less people, though no one seems to mind our presence. When we reach a small tent of dark green, she stops and signals for me to enter while making sure nobody is watching us.
The inside is not very big but it compensates on coziness. The floor is a large colorful rug, while multiple bright ornaments hang from the ceiling. Her bunk is on one side, using half the space despite it being very small. There is also a small trunk, half open, where a red sparkly fabric peaks from the edge.
"I need to clean your wound," Katniss says, color filling her cheeks, "so you're going to take off your pants."
I smile at her demure attitude and make quick work with my belt buckle, pulling my pants down slowly, trying not to touch the lash on my leg. I sit on her bunk, while she tends to my wounded leg in silence. "Are you a healer?" I inquire.
"No, my mother was," she replies. "I am absolutely terrible at it".
I shake my head, disagreeing with her but saying nothing. I watch her cleaning the wound with a little water and then applying some herbs. "I will heal faster," she explains and then covers my thigh with a bandage. I pull up my pants as soon as she's finished to avoid making her even more uncomfortable.
"Did you hear that?" she asks.
A dark figure looms on the entryway and Katniss goes out and see. Not after she steps one foot out of the tent, four gypsy men pass by her side and head towards me. "Wait, no. He's here with me," Katniss pleas with them, but they ignore her. I try to pick up my sword to defend myself, but they are too fast and I am still wounded.
"You know the law, Katniss," the King of Truants says looking at me, a serious expression on his face. And with no further words they whisk me out of Katniss' tent to a makeshift square and make me stand at the edge of a small fountain.
"Captain Peeta Mellark," the truant shouts for all the gypsies to hear. "You have broken our laws by soiling our sacred ground and therefore I condemn you to death by hanging."
"Wait," Katniss appears in front of me but looks away quickly. "I'll marry him," she says.
The King of Truants looks at her in disbelief. "Are you sure about this, Katniss?"
"Yes, Finnick," she whispers.
"Okay then…" he deflates and turns to me. "It's either this or death, Captain, your choice."
I look at Katniss, who is silently pleading with me and I nod, barely sure if I understand what is happening anymore. The King of Truants, Finnick Odair, marries us in a fast ceremony. At the end, he grasps my hand and smiles at me. "Now, you're one of us, Peeta."
The gypsies erupt in a celebration, but Katniss manages to sweep me away from it in no time. This time, when she holds my hands, I wonder if she also feels the electricity that surrounds our touch.
But, no, I can't think like that. She has never showed me any indication of having feelings for me. She was just trying to save me, helping me as she helped that poor girl in the pillory. She's a gentle soul and her actions have more to do with compassion than passion itself.
By the time, we reach her tent I can barely stand her skin on mine, feeling as it burns me with a desire I can never fulfill, not honorably. I drop her hand the moment we enter the small space and Katniss turns to me in confusion.
"I don't understand why would you do such a thing," I look at her, the desperation palpable in my voice. I need an answer from her, or my head will win this one out and convince that this beautiful goddess could actually feel something for me.
"What? Did you expect me to let you die?" she glares at me. My body sags. Well, that answers the question. She does have feelings for me: pity. She just married me to save me. And now I am forever bound to this dream girl who doesn't love me back.
"I appreciate what you did for me, Katniss, I really do," I tell her while standing up, "but this is a mistake. I should leave the city. Maybe you can annul the marriage on the account of never being consummated."
I turn to leave, grabbing my sword from the floor. My leg still hurts, but there must be a wait out of this city that the Peacekeepers don't know about. The gypsies have been moving around the city under their noses for so long, I just need to ask one of them. I am about to go look for Finnick Odair when I feel Katniss touching my arm. I didn't even hear her move behind me, but again she is always so graceful and silent.
"Wait," she whispers, "I don't want you to go." Her small caramel hands envelope mine, putting the sword back in the ground, and I feel again the electricity between us. I look into her eyes, shining with silver hues but hiding a fire brighter than the fake flames of her dancing dress. I can't help myself, even if I know it's wrong, and my mouth is on her before I realize what I am even doing.
Her lips are so soft and her breath so warm I desire to be devoured by her. Her hands travel to my chest, while mine find their way to her bare back. I am helpless to the guttural moan that escapes me when I touch her soft skin.
I break the kiss in that moment, pressing my forehead against hers and sigh. "Thank you for that. It was a beautiful way to say goodbye."
"You mean you're still going to leave me," her voice sounds small, vulnerable, almost like it doesn't belong to this fierce woman. I look at her and see sadness in her gorgeous features. My stomach drops at the sight and I can feel the hope rising again.
"I don't want you to be married to me because you ought to," I explain. "I want you to be married to me because you want to be… because you want me."
She gazes into my eyes and smiles at that. "You don't remember me, but I do remember you, Peeta Mellark," she confides. I furrow my brow in confusion. "We met before you left the city, before the great fire, when you were the baker's son and not the war hero."
I'd never mentioned my family to her, not even to anyone. It's been years since I talked about them, the memories too painful to be brought to the present.
"How can you…? How?" I mumble.
"You must have been sixteen or so and I was only twelve, but you treated me with kindness. Your mother had screamed at me, shooing me away from your store, where my sister and I were looking at the beautiful pastries. Our family was poor and we were always hungry. But you went after us and gave us a golden bread filled with raisins and nuts."
The smile she has on her lips while recalling this day fills my heart with pride and joy, more than any successful war quest ever did.
"I wanted to kiss you right there, but you left before I could even say thank you. So, my sister and I ran home and share the bread with our parents. It was one of the last good memories I have from them," she finishes.
"I wish I remembered you," I smile at her. "What happened to your family?"
Her face falls at the question. "They passed away no so long after that…in the great fire," she clarifies.
I don't ask further. That's how I lost my family too. That is how many people in Panem had lost a loved one. I squeeze her hand as a silent sign of understanding.
She leans towards me and touches my lips with hers ever so slightly. "I do want you, Peeta Mellark," she whispers to my lips. "I think I might always have."
I feel her words on my lower abdomen, where they seem to sink in. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to gather my bearings. All of this feels unreal, like out of a fantasy, and I fear I might wake up in my bed still too far from her. When I open my eyes I see her observing me, her gaze full of vulnerability.
I capture her lips in mine and lower her to the bed, all traces of doubt banishing from me. I mold my lips to hers, probing her, sink my teeth into her bottom lip, eliciting a whimper from her, and let my tongue taste her own, letting hers into my mouth as well, until we are both panting and pull away.
I look into her stormy eyes and sigh. I've been with women before, but it has never felt like this, completely overwhelming. She makes the whole world disappear until all that remains is her, but the though does not scare me. It feels right, meant to be, like we're destined to be the only two people left in this God forsaken world.
My gaze drifts to her chest and I see how the collar of her dress is barely covering her left breast. She sees me looking and laughs at my expression. I must look positive tormented by now. Ever slowly she pops the buttons of the dress and takes my right hand in hers, moving it under the garment and letting me touch the caramel skin of her breast.
I close my eyes at the sensation and let my hands discover the curves and slops of her torso, while enjoying the musical whimpers that escape my wife's mouth. My fingers grace her nipple softly but briefly and I hear a clear complaint in the moan that follows my hand dropping to her side.
I let my lips explore the skin of her neck, her collarbone and finally her breast, all while inhaling her delicious fragrance. When I get to the dark brown nipple I let my tongue taste it first, enjoying the velvety softness for a moment, before alternating between sucking it and lapping at it. All my movements are followed by a new sound from my goddess that encourages me to keep going, to bring her to the brinks of pleasure.
I use my right hand to lift up her skirt, looking for the hiding place between her legs while caressing her supple thighs. I feel her tremble under me and I stop on my track.
"Have you ever…?" I mumble against her skin. I look at her and see her shaking her head no. "I'll be gentle," I promise.
She nods eagerly and I smile lowering myself to her middle. I want to taste her juices and bring her to ecstasy before I even get pleasure of my own. I take off her dress and her stockings slowly, watching her tremble in anticipation. Then I slide off her undergarments, to completely bare her to me.
Blushing, she covers herself up and scowls at me. "You are completely dressed! That is hardly fair!" she complains, earning a chuckle from me.
"You're right," I smile. I take off my shirt to placate her, but leave my pants on, not trusting myself to be fully nude around her and not getting lost in the seeking of pleasure of my own.
I caress her naked body while lifting her legs to my shoulders. Katniss looks at me positively confused until my tongue touches her lower lips and her eyes roll to the back of her head. I lap at her opening, letting my tongue intrude a little, earning a throaty whimper. Then I move up north, to the spot that makes the ladies tremble and suck on it.
Katniss cries in pleasure and bucks her hips violently to the point I have to pin her down with one arm. I use my free hand to caress her folds and then introduce one, two, three fingers, curving them up while I keep on licking and sucking on the little bundle until finally she falls with a glorious loud moan.
Her body shakes on its own volition and I let myself fall to her side while massaging my jaw. When she comes to her senses, she turns to me and kisses me deeply, lapping at her juices running through my chin. The move makes my dick to jump and poke her in her thigh, eliciting a laugh out of her.
"You are still overdressed", she murmurs into my ear, and my hand flies to my belt buckle to free my lower half from my pants. She laughs again when she sees my enthusiasm. "I though you didn't want me," she confesses.
"I could never not want you", I growl to her lips, while turning her to straddle me. She looks livid about the position, probably preoccupied of how exposed to my eyes it makes her. "It'll be better this way, you'll have most of the control," I tell her.
She casted a wary look to my genitals, blushing a little to the sight of them completely bare before her. "You are so pure," I smile.
"How can you say that?" she refutes, "I am naked on top of you."
I nod happily, while grabbing my dick in my left hand and letting it slide against her lower lips, bathing it in her juices. Her eyes roll back instantly and I hold myself from plunging into her all at once. Instead I go slowly, while massaging her right breast with my other hand.
Her face is scrunched, waiting for the pain to come, but it never seems to do. I let myself bury myself to the hilt and she moans. I repeat the motion, faster this time, colliding our hips together, and she moans louder. After a few times, she starts to move too, rolling her hips against mine in the most delicious way.
I grunt and she looks at me, our gazes fixed on each other. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and I just want to be united with her like this forever. I let her move, control me, ride me. I watch her enjoy my body like I am enjoying hers. I have been with other women before but it never felt like this because we were only bodies moving together. But Katniss and I, we are more than just a fleeting connection of limbs.
She falls down to my chest and I kiss her. I grab her hips and I snap my own against her fast and hard. It might hurt a little tomorrow, but the screams of pleasure she's letting escape from her lips only spur me forward. And then she trembles above me, her walls fluttering around my dick, milking my own ecstasy and making me fall the precipice with her.
I pull the covers around our still naked bodies, not bothering to clean up. I feel her kissing the skin of my collarbone and neck relentlessly and I know I will have a mark tomorrow. I laugh at the thought. There's nothing that will fill me with pride like the physical evidence of being with my beautiful bride.
"Did you hear that?" Katniss says, sitting up in the bed. I sit up behind her, kissing her exposed shoulder. "I didn't hear anything," I whisper to her skin. Katniss gets out of the bed, awarding me with the beautiful sight of her perfectly round ass only to hide it from me when putting on her camisole.
"I am completely opposed to whatever this is that requires for you to be clothed," I state, while standing up also and putting on my undergarments. Katniss laughs at that, blushing again but daring a look at me if ever briefly.
"I'm just going to look if there's a problem. I'll be right back," she says.
"No, let me," I say, while throwing my shirt over my shoulders. I go to grab my sword when, Katniss face turns pale and a piercing pain in my back stops me on my tracks. I can hear the knife being pulled away from my mangled flesh, a sickening sound only surpass by the choke scream of pain from Katniss.
I fall forward, feeling weak. My ears are drumming and there're bright spots in my vision that don't allow me to see the whole scene, but I can still hear his voice: "You're coming with me, filthy gypsy whore," the Minister sneers, "and you will pay for the murder of the Head Peacekeeper, Captain Mellark."
And then all I hear are Katniss' screams for help, even long after they take her away from me.
END OF PART TWO