Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Hunger Games universe. All names, characters, and places belong to their respective owners.
I stand there with my mouth agape, my heart pounding in an inconsistent manner as I process the information I just heard. He wants me to marry him, but Gale - and why on earth would somebody from such a wealthy country like Panem want to marry into my family? My country has nothing to give him. Seam has limited resources aside from coal, which certainly isn't worth the bother. Why would he travel here for my hand?
My father wakes me from my uncomfortable gaping, "Well daughter, what do you think?"
"Oh-Okay," I sputter out. My mind swirls, and in a last moment decision I gather up my skirts in the most unladylike fashion and just run. I run faster than I ever have, dashing across the floors of the throne room, barely stopping as a guard struggles to quickly release the gate. I run all the way through the palace and out the kitchen door, not stopping until I reach the safety of the forest. I even manage to trip a servant carrying a load of laundry in a rough metal bucket. Usually, I would stop or at least attempt to help, but right now it feels like my chest is closing in on my body and I just need to flee.
Gale finds me lying on the bed of the forest, curled up in a little ball. Without a word he places a tin of freshly baked cookies in my lap, our little patch of cleared ground lighting up with the smell of the bakery.
"Oh, Katniss," he says to me, slipping a cookie into his mouth, "What are you going to do?"
"They want me to marry him. They want to - to just take me away from everything I know," I cry, leaning into his shoulder.
"I heard," he loosens his tight grip around me and looks me in the eyes, "Remember Katniss, you do not have to go through with this. You have a choice. You always have a choice."
"Gale," I laugh coldly, blinking back tears, "we both know that isn't true. We both know that it is my duty to give myself for my country. You would do the same if you were in my position. It is duty, and with the state Seam is in, we aren't going to survive much longer…"
"But Panem?" Gale says, the anger evident in his voice. "Out of all the people that could take you away, it has to be the King of Panem?"
I know where his anger comes from. Haven't I've felt the same feelings towards the country that has dominated the rest of the region with an iron fist? Have I not known the same bitterness towards the nation that caused the Dark Days? Does Gale not understand that regardless of what Panem has done, we have responsibilities. Better to live in darkness, than starve in light.
"I have to," I tell him bluntly, "if it will bring prosperity to Seam, I would marry a barbarian."
"I know my duty, and I know yours," Gale sighs, "I'm just not sure If I'm willing, or even able to give you up. I'm not that sacrificial, Katniss."
I shake my head, "Gale…"
He cuts me off with a small kiss against the corner of my lips. "I'm sorry, I had to do that at least once," he says.
I look up at him, my mind muddled with the overwhelming thoughts. "Gale, I can't. We can't. If that man still wants me after running out of there like that, we both know, we both have to accept..." I sigh against him, my nose resting on his, "we have to accept the fact that if he still takes me I will go willingly to Panem...forever."
"You shouldn't give yourself to a man like that. God knows what he will do to you when you're away from the safety of your home," Gale says, grasping my hands, "But if you are willing to make that sacrifice, I know I will be unable to stop you."
"You know I have to do this," I shrug, "others have it far worse, no matter what he does to me."
He gives me a sad smile, "If that is what you want. Whatever you want, Katniss. I could never deny you of anything. Why don't I run and get the bows and we can relax for a while," his voice cracks, "Although, you should probably change out of that dress. Not that it matters if you ruin it, with a husband like that you will be rolling in gowns that cost ten times the price of this one."
When my father catches me he scolds me for running away, even though he does it with tears in his eyes. "You have to start acting like the Queen of Panem, Katniss. You can't run around anymore in the way I have allowed you to. Those people, they will never accept that. You have to make him pleased by your actions, if only for your people."
Several days go by, and King Peeta remains in both the castle and his decision to take me as his wife. I try to spend every waking moment with my loved ones, a way of saying goodbye, although it becomes fairly difficult due to the amount of feasts and dances my father puts on for my newly betrothed. Over the days, members of the Capitol, the city in Panem where the royal court is held, swarm in to join in on the celebrations. I've only ever heard of the extravagance of the place, but from the get ups that I see the visiting courtiers wearing I can only assume Panem's wealth is far beyond my imagination. When I hear that the people who have arrived are only tailors, dressmakers, and an assortment of different people that have been sent to prep me for the journey I nearly faint. If this is what the merchant class of the Capitol wear, I can only imagine what finery the members of Court are dressed in.
I meet the prep team early on the morning before I will leave. R-i-i-i-p! I grit my teeth as Venia, a woman with a too wide dress who wears a wig in the shape of a bird cage, rips a piece of fabric from my legs.
"Sorry!" she pipes in her silly Capitol accent.
"You're just so hairy!"
Why do these people speak in such a high pitch? Why do their jaws barely open when they talk? Why do the ends of their sentences go up as if they're asking a question? Odd vowels, clipped words, and always a hiss on the letter s...it's practically impossible not to mimic them.
Venia makes what is supposed to be a sympathetic face. "Good news, though. This is the last one. Ready?" I grip my hands on the table I am seated on and give a nod. The final swathe of my leg hair is uprooted from me in a painful jerk. I have spent three hours curled up in this chamber as the prep team fixes me to look like the Queen of Panem. This has included scrubbing down my body with a gritty loam that has removed not only dirt but at least three layers of skin, turning my usually dirt filled nails into uniform shapes, and primarily, ridding my body of hair. My legs, arms, torso, underarms, and parts of my eyebrows have been swiftly removed. I feel like a bird that has been rid of it's feathers. It's unsettling.
Venia looks back at her work, admiring it with a lustful gaze, "Excellent. You look almost human now. His highness will love you!" Apparently I am supposed to be comforted by the fact that some strange man will enjoy my body being stripped of its hair.
They step out of the room. It's kind of hard for me to hate them in the way I do the others, they are such idiots that I can't really expect much from them.
The door opens and a young man who must be the dressmaker enters. I am visibly taken aback by how normal he looks. Most of the people from Panem I have seen are covered in rouge, wigs, and an assortment of heavy colors. But this man has close-cropped hair that appears to be its natural shade of brown. He's in a simple black jacket and breeches. The only concession to self-alteration seems to be metallic gold powder that has been applied with a light hand. It brings out the flecks of gold in his green eyes. And, despite my disgust with the Capitol and their hideous fashions, I can't help thinking how attractive it looks.
"Hello, Katniss, is it alright if I call you that? I'm Cinna, I will be assembling your wardrobe for your life as my queen. I've already assembled a few travel gowns for your journey."
"Oh," I say, unsure of what the proper response is.
Cinna slips me into a light orange gown that's made of a heavy fabric, unsure of what it's made of it I run my hand along the midsection. It's not quite velvet, and it's not quite silk. It's a bit thicker, and softer than most of the fabrics I have experienced.
"It's a modified form of velvet I came up with. It doesn't wrinkle and it's more comfortable for a long journey," Cinna explains as he attached a lace covered front that matches the long lace sleeves. I have never cared much for dresses, but even I can admit it's stunning.
"His highness has requested for your hair to be left in it's usual style, and I have noticed that you wear a lot of braids, so that is what we will be doing."
At least I will be able to leave my hair in a comfortable fashion. It pains me to think of wearing one of those silly wigs as the carriage went over every bump. Why King Peeta put any thought into that, however, I don't know. Maybe he didn't want to be hit by a falling wig?
After my corset is loosely tied, the dressed stitched here and there so it fits better, and my brown locks tied up in an elaborate braid, Cinna leads me through the halls of the palace to a room where my loved ones await to say their final goodbyes. I have already said everything I wanted to say in the comfort of true privacy, but it is Seam tradition to say goodbye to your loved ones before you leave your maiden home.
My little sister, Prim, burst into tears near immediately, her blue eyes, so much like those of my mother's, flooding as she wraps her body around mine.
"Katniss," she says, "I'll miss you."
"Oh Prim," I say, squeezing my sister back.
"At least you are marrying Peeta," my sister sniffs, "it's terribly romantic, and he is handsome and nice."
How naive. To think that a man coming and stealing me away from my family is some sort of fairytale romance. Honestly, though, I had yet to spend any time alone with him yet. I had sat three chairs down from him, in my rightful place at the table, several times over the past days, but he had never addressed me directly. From what I can tell, Peeta is a very charming man. He managed to get a few laughs out of the noblemen. He has a silver tongue, and his pretty words pleased seemingly everybody but me. I for one have never been a big fan of those who are so enthralling with their words, those who deceive others so easily. In fact, it unnerved me that the man who is taking me in marriage was that good with words.
My sister cries, Gale enwraps me into a choking hug, and my father gives only emotionless words of 'congratulations' on bringing honor to my family. He sounds, for once in my life, like a king instead of a father. Is this what my relationship would become with my family after I spend a few years away? My little sister would become Primrose of the Everdeen house, and Gale only the reigning monarch of Seam. Would I just be the Queen of Panem, somebody they once knew but now only spoke to in diplomatic relations?
Today I start a new life, a life where I will bear the King of Panem's children. A life where my family will become Panem, and my current family, the people I love, only figures of my past. The realization scares me. I am seventeen years old, with no mother and so few years with my father, where will I be in a handful of years?
For the sake of my family and my sanity, I only shed a couple of tears and hold back from the internal nightmare. My name is Katniss, of the Everdeen house. I am seventeen years old. I am going to marry King Peeta. I will be a wife and a Queen. I repeat to myself, the words calming me down, so by the time the Panemian guard, dressed in the finest livery, leads me out of the room and to the heavy mahogany main doors of the palace, the only emotion I feel is a newfound burning encouragement to do what I know is the best for my people.
Author's Note: Again, I do not own the Hunger Games franchise. All the characters here belong to their respective owners (Suzanne Collins, publisher, etc.) First of all, I would like to thank everybody who reviewed the first chapter. I did not expect to get that much support from everybody. Thanks for all of your reviews. It made my day!
Some editing notes, The prep scenes were based off of the prep scenes from the Book, just edited. I switched the dialogue over to first person recently, so there may be some inconsistencies.