Author's Note: WOW! Over 100 follows in less than 48 hours. This is absolutely amazing. I decided, thanks to all of the reviews, and the realization that I couldn't truly express their relationship properly without Katniss's inside thoughts to go with a first person perspective.
The guard opens the door and it makes a slight screech as it hits the floors below, sending a high pitched squeal that towers over the sound of the crowd that has gathered to see me sent off to Panem. Peeta is waiting at the end of the platform presumably for me. He looks up at me for a second, blue eyes blazing, as he extends his hand in my direction.
"This way," he says to me with a slight nod as I accept his hand.
The pathway in front of me has been separated off by two lines of well uniformed guards, their livery in the colors of Panem, gold and red. Red for the roses that brought the people of Panem joy through the dark ages that formed the country, and gold to glorify the everlasting wealth that will be held by Panem. Or so I have been told.
Peeta gently leads me towards the carriage at the end of the pathway. It is far beyond anything my limited imagination could conjure up. The outside is finely covered in gold, and twisted decorations of different animals and crowns, which I would assume are important to the history of Panem, adorn the tops and sides. Painted on the doors are elaborate scenes of chubby cherubs dancing on fountains and what seems to be a montage to a member of the royal house.
When we reach the end of the pathway, he stops about two feet before the open carriage doors and he loosens his tight grip on my hand and steps into the carriage before allowing a guard to place me onto one of the benches. The carriage has an almost comforting presence that seems to invite me into it's finery. The walls and benches are covered in a plush pillowed gold fabric, with only the doors to each of my sides black. Along the edges of the doors and the rims of the benches, the royal crown of Panem is embroidered. Two glass windows, one to the sides of my bench and the other over the doors allow the colors of the crowd to reflect against the gold in the cars. Peeta sits silently across from me on an identical bench, only staring forward as the carriage goes off with a start, leading me into my new life.
I gently push myself over to the corner and stare out the window. It's an ethereal scene that I see through the glass. The worn sandy colored stone of the palace where I grew up towers above us, and my people encompass the carriage waving goodbye and running handkerchiefs through the air. My heart tightens a bit as I catch my family standing from a balcony on the royal wing, their bright, shiny clothes standing out from the dull grey of the sky.
My nose remains pressed against the window for a while, taking in the scenery of the road. Bright fields of lively flowers, the thatched straw roofs and flat daub walls of peasant houses, and comforting rows of tall crops that brush against the windows meet me with a longing. It is only when I hear his voice calling out to me that I remove my face from the window, leaving a foggy imprint of my face against the sheet of glass.
Peeta's legs are stretched against his seat, each of his hands places against the accompanying limb. He is wearing deep blue silk breeches with tall black boots that reach his knees, a creamy silk vest that has been embroidered with a gold pattern of vines, and a long jacket that matches the breeches' in color. Strung across the seat I can see the gold handle and the leather scabbard that covers his sword.
"Katniss," he says pausing slightly to adjust his stance, "you know that technically we are married as of now. I had the order for the marriage sent about seven days ago. They should have legalized it by proxy and priest by now."
I'm not exactly sure what to make of this. Does he think me truly uncivilized or dull to the point that I have no understanding of how the legal process for marriages between countries works? Does he assume that I'm a simpleton because I'm a girl? I'm not sure how to express either of these sentiments without angering him, so I choose a simple reply."Oh?"
Peeta gives me a quick grin,"Yes! Isn't is so peculiar how we are bonded together as man and wife, yet I don't know even know what your favorite color is?" He pauses to catch my reaction, "Maybe that is something we could do together, instead of just sitting here in silence and not speaking we could use this time to get to know each other. We can forget the marriage and just start off as friends. Would you like that?"
I'm not really sure if you can even be friends with somebody who has just spoken their first words to you, but it's not as if I can really say no.
"If that is what you wish..." I hesitate before adding, "My favorite color, it's green. What about you?"
He replies with earnest, "Orange."
"Orange?" I conjure up a bright color, like the oranges that come to Seam in the spring or the bright dress that the carnival men wear. Orange? Is that where his taste lies?
"Not a harsh orange, but a soft orange. Like sunset. Look out the window right now, it's setting nicely."
"Oh. I guess that is pretty," I say pressing my face against the window once more. It's true. I've never been the type of person that sees all of the beauty in the world, but even I can admit the delicate swirls of colors that greet me in the sky could define the word 'pretty'.
"It is," he smiles at me and motions at me to come sit on his side of the carriage. I lift the hem of my skirt and I sit next to him. My hip is aligned to his as he continues, "You have beautiful sunsets in your country, or perhaps I should say your former country, as you now belong to Panem. I knew I was going to regret not bring my paints with me."
"You paint? What are your usual subjects?" I'm a bit surprised at this. He doesn't seem like the painting type, and I have only known women who do it in an unprofessional setting. And it's a very expensive hobby, though I doubt it makes a dent in his pockets. The comment about Seam no longer being my country irks me a bit, though I suppose it's technically true.
"It differs. Sunsets, people, the merchant quarters in the Capitol. It depends on my mood. Maybe that's something we could do together to save us boredom. I could paint you tomorrow, if we aren't going over a bumpy area. I wouldn't want to ruin a painting of you. Or maybe I could teach you some things? Do you think that would be enjoyable for you? I'm not sure if you would have any interest in the field."
He wants to paint me? How is it that everything he says seems to reveal another layer of his personality? I never imagined him to be so soft. Was that it? Maybe it's just an artist thing, loving sunsets and wanting to be friends.
"Why would you want to paint me? And my mother already tried to get me involved in art, I was awful! My sketch of the palace looked like a tree!" I laugh at myself and tug a little at his arm. It's odd how comfortable I feel with him after knowing him for such a short time. I've noticed the effect he has on people before, I just never thought it would work on me. Saying he wants to paint me, asking my favorite color, commenting on the beauty of my country. It's all his way of charming me. Getting me to feel comfortable around him for whatever reason.
"Oh Katniss," he pauses, "you are a beautiful feminine subject that I could never do justice to. I've been thinking of the combination of colors that would match your eyes for quite a while. It would be nice to get an up close study of them."
It's a lie. A flat out lie. I'm not very pretty, and I am certainly not feminine.
"Oh," I mutter, "there is no need to flatter me." Unsure of what to say I change the subject to something I have been ruminating on. "But remember how you said we could ask each other questions? I have one, but it may bring your anger on me." I wince a little, waiting for his response.
"You are my wife, at least in technical terms, the ceremony and celebration has yet to happen. You may ask me whatever you please. I will not anger with you." I doubt it's true, but I figure as long as he is being nice to me, as long as he is trying to charm me, I might as well ask the question that has burned in my brain.
"Why did you not speak to me while we were in Seam? I felt the slightest bit like you were ignoring me."
"Honestly, I didn't think it was in my rights to take up the few precious minutes you would have left with your people. I can't imagine what this is like for you. Me coming here and suddenly ripping you from the family who I can see you care deeply for."
I wonder if it's true. If he just lacked interest in me, or if he really was being compassionate towards my woes.
"Oh. I guess I can understand that. Um-" I pause as the silence grows thick, "I guess it is your turn to ask me a question, sir." Sir? How cold did that sound ringing from my throat. I'm not sure if he would mind me calling him Peeta, and I don't want to upset him.
"It's Peeta. Just Peeta. You are my wife. I think it would be appropriate for you to call me by my first name, before anybody else at least. I have heard that you sing, is that true?"
What? My mind runs through a million scenarios. How would he know something like that about me? It's something only the people closest to me know, maybe a handful of people in the village and the castle staff besides my family know that I sing. It's suspicious that he would know something like this about me. I can't imagine anyone telling him.
"I sing sometimes, how did you know?"
"Oh, a little birdie told me. That isn't important. It's your turn to ask a question, Katniss."
The words he uses makes it clear that this is no longer up for discussion, and the feeling that he is dictating me nerves me to the point that I ask the real question everybody has been wondering point blank.
"Why did you come all the way to Seam for my hand in marriage? We're a small country. We have nothing to offer you. My country is, to be honest with you, going to shambles and I'm sure that you could find a far more suitable woman among your country or a wealthier princess that could offer you things that I cannot."
Much to my surprise, he doesn't anger with me. "Katniss, did you ever hear about Prime Minister Snow? He ran my country until I was of age."
"Of course I've heard of him," I squeak out. Prime Minister Snow was a tyrant that ruled Panem for a few years. Even in Seam we heard of his atrocities.
"Well, after I turned eighteen... I had him disposed of. Since then I have managed to restore order in my country. The people are happy and healthy. Business is more than fine, in fact it is booming. However, after the reign of my mother and with the things that Snow did there has been a disconnect between my people and their nobles," he pauses as the carriage grumbles beneath us. "Well, Katniss," he brushes a strand of my hair from my face.
"Yes," I choke out. Shocked that I have allowed this man, who is both my husband and a stranger to touch me.
"Well, as I was saying. The people think kindly towards me, and so far my reign has been successful but we lack a reliability between commoner and noble. So in order to bridge that gap, I'm giving them a love story."
"A love story?" What could that possibly have to do with me.
"A love story. You see, not only do you come from, and forgive me for saying this, more relatable means, but because I gain no wealth or land from marrying you, they will think of only one reason why this has happened. That I have thought kindly on you and chosen you as my bride."
I look at him, tilting my head towards his face. It's a great idea, he must be good at this. Though it still doesn't explain everything in the way I want it to.
"But why me, not some common girl from your own country. Surely that would connect the people even better."
"You're still a princess. It's still respectable amongst the nobles for me to take you as my wife."
"Oh, I guess that makes sense," I say as my eyes begin to become weary from our long conversation. "I'm tired."
He sighs and gives me a light smile. "If you want, you can lay your head on my shoulder and rest. I will not mind."
Usually I would protest, but it's true. I am tired, and I allow myself to nod off on the shoulder of a man who was practically a stranger this morning.
Author's Note: I decided to give you guys a half chapter today as a gift for all the follows. I'm not sure if you would prefer 5,000 words every few days or half of that every day/every other day. What do you think?
NOTE: This has not been reviewed by a beta, and I should probably read it over again before publishing but I want to get it out tonight. Any constructive criticism? What do you think of the dynamic? Am I making Katniss too drawn to him? It's just that I aways imagined Peeta as one of thsoe guys that made you feel super comfortable.
Also, I made a tumblr today where I post some updates/hints for the new chapters. You can also ask me anything at starveinsafety