(A/N: Featured reader/reviewer:

"This is really good, and you voice Katniss so well! I cannot wait to read more, and welcome to the fandom! :D"-populardarling

Why thank you! I've never been formally-as far as PM's go-welcomed to a fandom before! Now, if you could be so kind to tell a newbie where to put her things...)

The people of the Capitol cheer and clap and whistle at the monitors, and for me and Peeta. I snap my head back and forth from the collection of televisions and the elated crowd, trying to figure out what's going on.

What is there to applaud so much about? Why did those people from District react the way they did? Why did they call us liars?

None of my questions are answered. Instead we are urged to exit the stage, to make ourselves comfortable behind the curtains. To find comfort in this blizzard of clamor is impossible, and I become slightly disoriented enough for Peeta to have to protect me from impatient peacemakers. They pull back the curtain and we disappear in the darkness.

"Katniss."

I feel a hand wrap around my elbow and yank me aside. My eyes adjust to them dim lighting. "Haymitch," I breathe a sigh of relief. "Peeta. Where's Peeta?" Panicked, I feel my way around until a pair of hands takes hold of me.

"I'm right here," he says, joining our huddle.

"Just what is going on here?" Effie demands as she hoists up her frilly dress and marches past stubborn guards, absolutely flustered. "Did we miss something? We did, didn't we? How dare you keep my team in the dark? I should report all of you!"

Together, we try to listen in on the mix of the riled up conversations. Haymitch seems to get the gist before us and orders us to stay close as he delves farther from the pandemonium, to a quieter part of the auditorium. We swerve and cut corners, hurry up steps and slip through closed doors before we arrive at a location that seems a world apart from the auditorium.

It's quiet, but no less disconcerting because I want my answers.

But Haymitch shoots me this look, as if I should already know the answers.

What? What is it? The last thing I remember is Peeta thanking District 11...for their tributes...for keeping us alive…

"They're angry," I say, but for only my own conclusion. Peeta is patient—just barely—and waits for me to elaborate. I look to Haymitch.

"You're better off telling him," Haymitch insists.

Tentative, I turn my attention back to Peeta, and he's a shade more frustrated than before. "They think you—that we lied about...us, and they blame us for Thresh and Rue's death." I swallow thickly, fighting to keep my voice even. "If it wasn't for us, one of them might've come out alive."

"That's not fair," Peeta says, his jaw clenching. "Katniss, you didn't throw that spear, and Thresh saved you on his own decision. They had just as much of a chance as we did, getting out of that place out alive. I didn't lie." He makes a point to single himself out, because he knows there's something else. There's yet another piece of information that I haven't told him. "That still does explain why The Capitol reacted like that."

In one quick breath, I tell him the deal I made with President Snow. How I did it to save his life and Prim's and Gale's and everyone else's. How everything can fall apart if we don't stick together. How we can maybe find some way to—

I try to keep steady, pleading eye contact with Peeta but he resists and steps away from me.

"And you knew about this?" he asks Haymitch before turning to me, his rage tightening in his fists. "You agreed to do this? Katniss, I thought we were done keeping things from each other. The both of you."

I blinked, unable to reason. "I—"

"Listen, boy," Haymitch begins, "we were going to tell you about it."

"Not soon enough." Peeta paces back and forth, the old floorboards groaning at the new weight of things. He struggles to find the right angry words to say to the both of us, which only fuels him on. "Haymitch, I—and you, Katniss—I have every right to know what's going on, when I have people Icare about involved!"

I feel Peeta's eyes bore into me, and my head shrinks into my shoulders. He makes sure to use his affection for me against me, and he succeeds at making me feel in the wrong.

"Peeta, I had no choice but to—"

With a solid shake of his head, he wrenches his tie loose and marches out, shoving arbitrary boxes out of his way.

Haymitch lays a hand on my shoulder and sighs, "You'll learn. We all have our choices to make." He then follows my sluggish feet back to the auditorium, but we are soon ushered into a waiting room where Effie is, her fingers twiddling nervously. She stands at our entrance, antsy for whatever reason.

On edge, she twitches a smile, smoothes out her outfit and perches back on the couch. She elongates her sigh, almost humming. "Why, hello, Katniss," she says evenly as I take the spot beside her. "Did you hear? Your performance tonight? They thought it was absolutely splendid! Whatever in the world you and Peeta did, the Capitol just ate it all up!" Despite her enthusiasm, clearly Effie takes her lack of being informed to great offense. Her hands fly around in sharp waves and flicks, her voice decibels soaring as she tells me that we left them wanting more. We are to finish up the ceremony tomorrow.

Want, want, want. More, more more.

Feeding off of Effie's frustrations, I say, "So should we not go to tonight's dinner? Leave them wanting more, right?" I am not ready to face these inhumane top hats and corsets. These so-called people who relish in the harm of others.

"And miss out on the happy couple's first hours of footage?" She lightly pats my knee and regroups with her camera crew. She utilizes this time in the waiting room to prep me, give me tips on what to say in light of hypothetical questions, find which angle and side of my face makes for better television, but all I can think about is Peeta and how he should be here with me. I can't be the happy couple without him.

To escape the extended prep time to change into a different outfit, in my head I begin to list all the things I would do for Peeta to make up for...everything. For the Games, for all the kisses, for all the lies I told to him face to face. For the things I didn't tell him, and for the things I have yet to—like our marriage arrangements.

Like a tower teetering on its last legs, I'm about to make my humiliating stumble into the dinner party when Peeta poises his arm out for me to hold onto. Effie gives us the countdown before she goes live, and I take the chance to inform him about Effie and the five-minute warning. I have this urge to spill the rest of the contract contents but Peeta interrupts me, securing my arm to his, as though he knows I might try to run away.

"No more secrets," he says, his eyes fixed on the doors that are supposed to open for us. "No more secrets, Katniss."

I gulp down this lump in my throat and nod. "None," I promise, and I intend to keep it. I'll tell him about how we are supposed to be even more in love, and how we have to live together, and that President Snow and other Capitol Officials will check up on us every once in a while. I promise to tell him soon enough, but with the exception of the nuptials and biological attachments that are surely short to follow. I myself can't fully grasp that part yet.

"Ten seconds, darlings!" Effie chimes in.

Peeta leans towards me, attention still trained forward. "Did you kiss Gale?" he asks in a quick whisper, taking full advantage of the truth session.

"No," I say just as fast, suddenly defensive. But when he shoots me an accusing glare, I fold and admit, "But he kissed me."

Peeta exhales slowly through his nose and tips his chin in a brisk, understanding fashion. When the doors creak open, we both square our shoulders. But neither of us is prepared for the onslaught of attention we receive.

The flash of ballroom lights blind us upon impact, and it takes us a few beats before we can see the assembly of people from the Capitol charging for us. Peeta and I saunter in while they gush on about us star-crossed lovers, over our romance. Caught up in the moment, some of them even have the nerve to blame and accuse the other tributes—the ones who've nevertheless died—of trying to get in the way of our happiness.

I want to drop the smile I have on my face but for Effie's sake, for the camera's sake, I ignore the incompetent comments and keep on walking. All in all, that's what I have to go through the entire night. Forced to nod, obligated to be thankful. Images of dead faces superimpose on the dyed complexions I stare at, and my head spins. I lose my appetite despite the buffet spread. Before the dinner party ends, I've lost all composure and can barely stand on my own.

I'm in Peeta's safe hands once again when we politely excuse ourselves for the rest of the night. We obtain some concerned looks, but Effie consents to cut the recording at this point and directs us to our rooms.

Since we are on Capitol territory, Peeta and I keep our guards up. For all we know, President Snow has the vicinity bugged and wired with cameras. So I find refuge on Peeta's shoulder as he rubs my lower back, ignoring completely the shiver that goes up my spine. When we reach our rooms, one across from the other, Peeta sees me inside to check for listening devices of any sort.

But as soon as I hit the oversized mattress, I drift into restless sleep. Armies of dead tributes assault me with their screams, their pained faces so much more vivid than before. They claw for me with their bloody hands, and I clamp my own over my mouth to cover my cry. My cry then turns to a strangled scream when their faces morph into vicious snarls with razor sharp teeth. They double in size, it seems, all of them towering over me with their shadows, ready to ambush. But, something makes them come to a halt. The shadows pivot in the opposite direction from me, and they charge toward Prim, Peeta, Gale…

Katniss, they call for me.

No! But I'm frozen.

Katniss!

No, don't! I'm helpless.

"Katniss!"

"Don't!" I scream myself awake, already rocking back in forth in a familiar embrace.

"Shh," Peeta whispers in my ear while I shiver. "It's not real, Katniss. I'm here."

Urgent to take hold of reality, I feel around for Peeta's strong arms, his broad back. I try to take lungs full of his scent but I fall uncontrollably into sobs. I hold onto him with all my might and he reciprocates, echoing "I'm here" over and over again.

When I finally calm down, he lays me back onto the bed. "Don't go," I plead, my eyes still clamped shut. "Peeta, please, stay with me." Because I remember back to when we were in the cave, and the memory itself is comforting. And as if to relive that one fragment of the Games, the only one I don't mind coming back to me, Peeta lightly presses his lips to the corner of my mouth.

"Always," he promises. His voice sounds ragged, in pain. Still, he cradles me up into the air to push back the covers and tucks us in securely to each other.

Before long, it's morning, the day we are to finish our speeches. Our night together takes no time to get around to Effie and other residential Capitols. They say someone saw us going into my room together, and how they caught us leaving together for prep, looking absolutely disheveled. For once, I'll leave it up to the entertained to come to their own conclusions.

When Effie warns us to be more discreet, I shake my head and say, "Good. Maybe it will get back to Snow." She nods, taking the hint, and tells us farther ahead of time that she'll be filming us for a special after the ceremony.

Although it's our third time on this very stage, it's no less nerve-wracking. Everyone is watching, even District 11, despite the fact that their numbers of Peacekeepers have grown. Haymitch catches me with my attention diverted so he snaps at me to focus. He points down into the audience pit and I make out President Snow's white rose. He's in the front row.

My breathing picks up when I steal a glance at Peeta while he does his part of the speech. "…Lastly, Katniss and I would like to thank the hospitality you've all shown us. Somehow, we've grown so much closer…" he drones on.

I have to show President Snow I can come through with our agreement. Peeta and I have to get married. Forget the shock and awe, I have to propose. Right now. I—

"…And so," Peeta concludes, and my lips part to speak but he suddenly turns to me and my breath catches, "I'd like to ask you something." Howling gasps cut through the silence as Peeta takes a knee to the ground, pulling out a small suede box. "Will you do me the honor, Katniss Everdeen, of marrying me?" he asks.

I blink once, twice, three times. My mouth dries from gaping open so long. For the longest time I hear nothing but a sharp hum of sound as the shock registers, like the kind of subconscious pitch I hear when the fence back home runs with volts of electricity. Then, I hear snapping again from Haymitch.

"Yes," I exhale, and the audience swells. "Yes!"

Peeta beams up at me, slips the band onto my finger and picks me up by waist to swing me around; kissing me passionately like he's genuinely happy and I kiss him back.

The place goes up in hysteria when Peeta and I wave our goodbyes. It's unbelievable. The onscreen couple is at last set to get married. My heart is still racing when we exit the stage.

"Either your prep team put too much make up on you, or you're actually blushing, sweetheart," Haymitch teases in a chuckle.

I press my hands to my face first, mortified, and then scowl at Peeta, which makes him laugh as well. "Haymitch thought it would be more believable if we didn't tell you," he explains, shrugging. "Personally, I wouldn't have wanted this to happen this way, but…" Cameras stroll in, just as Effie promised, and Peeta says under his breath to me, "I promise this is the last time."

"Well done." My blood runs cold when I hear President Snow's voice. "Well done," he announces, shaking Peeta's hand firmly. "My congratulations, you two." He comes between me and Peeta, one at each side of him, telling us that it "was about time," and I don't miss a beat of his double-meaning.

The red light on the camera turns off and I inch away from President Snow. He still seems amused, which has me on my toes. Does he approve? Did I do it to his liking? Is he convinced?

I don't know how he does it, and my stomach churns at the idea of it, but he seems to have read my mind. He takes one more look at me, his puffy lips curling, and shakes his head. From his inside coat pocket, the one right behind his white rose, he pulls out an envelope and gives it to me in passing, never looking back.

I stare through the letter. It didn't work. He wants more from me.

Peeta relieves the envelope from my hands and rips it open. Inside is an address, and a key engraved with the same numbers from the address.

My engagement present to the happy couple.

(A/N: Isn't President Snow some twisted soul? Speaking of something twisted, I came up with a new idea for a new story, and naturally, it's for the Hunger Games fandom! :) I'm not sure if anyone has written anything about it, but I've already written out the prologue. It's most definitely an AU, but still from Katniss' perspective. I'm going to type it up as soon as I can, and I hope you'll give that a read as well!

Thanks again for reading! And please do review!)