Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Hunger Games Universe. All of the characters/places presented here from the books are not mine in any way. I did base the ballroom scene after a scene from Catching Fire, the second book in The Hunger Games Trilogy.
I'm awoken by gentle shaking, by the black sleeve I can see through my slightly opened eye, and the soft timid voice saying, "Madame Katniss, it is time to wake up, Madame Katniss, you need to wake now," I can assume the maid has come to wake me.
I've slept through the night, and now it's the day I'll remember for the rest of my life. I'll look back on this day, the people will look back on this day, as one of the most important days in Panem's history. It's odd to be living the day you will remember forever. You'll always look back on these days and think, I should have done this or I'm glad I did that. But you can't change it. You only get to live it once. You only get one wedding day if you're a woman.
The maid shakes me again, this time a bit harder, "You have to wake up, Madame, it's your wedding day. You have to arrive at the chapel before the sun rises."
It's my wedding day.
Reluctantly, I open my eyes and gently rub them, "I'm awake," I tell the girl as I remove my bare legs from the comfort of the warm covers and throw them onto the cold wood floor.
"Where am I supposed to be?" I ask the girl, rolling down the white sleeves of my nightgown.
The servant girl that attends to me, is very attractive like the others. I must be getting the best maids, because of my role as future Queen. She reminds me a bit of Prim, not in coloring, she has dark skin and rough thick hair I'm not familiar with, but in stature. She's perched on obviously brand new black boots, looking like a little bird before it takes flight. She looks around Prim's age too, and it's comforting, especially on a day like this; to have a piece of home.
She looks up at me, obviously intimidated, "They will be here to prep you in a few minutes, as soon as I get somebody to make sure they know you have woken. I'm quick, so probably soon. Although, I'm not that quick. Thresh is the fastest of all of us. He works in the stables, but he's training to be a guard. He's good. Sae says he will get a position soon."
She says more than the other servants, more than the curt answers that I usually receive. It's nice, the childlike rambling innocence.
I've grown up so much in the past few weeks, and I've been surrounded by stuffy lifeless people that her bright youth and childish innocence is enjoyable to be around, I make a note in my head to make sure she stays in my court. My ladies in waiting have been chosen, not by me, but by others who have selected them for political and social qualities. I can, at the very least, have the ability to choose my maids.
I push myself back on to the covers, scooting on to the bed as the girl gives a hasty cutsy and turns to leave, her feet pushing off in flight.
"Wait," I call out, causing her to stop short and turn around slowly to me.
"Is there anything else you need, Madame?" she asks me, fidgeting as she is probably late to fetch those who will prep me.
"Yes, what's your name. Then you may get on with it."
She looks at me, confused as to why somebody like me would ask somebody like her for a name, "Rue. It's Rue."
"Thank You, you can run along now," I say motioning her towards the door. Rue. It's very fitting for her.
A few minutes pass before my prep team arrives, shuffling in wearing rather simple clothes, simple muslin gowns that I assume are temporary due to the masks of makeup and the hair that has been pinned up, waiting for a wig to be placed on it.
They lead me, wearing nothing but my nightgown, into the room that adjoins mine. It's set up like an oversized dressing room, rolls and rolls of lace and fabric line the wall where the windows are. Bright sunshine seeps through and cast a bright light on the opposing wall that is filled with numerous dressers and privacy screens, one with what appears to be my wedding dress placed over it.
The prep team makes me stand on a little platform, quickly slipping the nightgown over my head and forcing me into a choking corset. It's more attractive than the other ones I've worn,its solid white with tiny blue ribbons laced across the top.
"For the King's pleasure," Octavia says with a little wink that reminds me of what will come tonight.
They roll thin translucent stockings up my legs, held up with a garters that match my corset, and simple white pantaloons with that stupid blue lace on the covered bottoms. They tie me tightly into a simple hoop skirt, occasionally commenting on how lovely I look.
The rogue is simple, just a quick dab of red on my cheeks and two small diamonds uncomfortably attached to the sides of my eyes.
"Well," Octavia says as she runs her hands through my dark hair, running an iron through it to form curls that are fastened with gold lace ribbons. "This is where we part, Sir Cinna will be responsible for the dress and final touches. We have a limited time to prepare the event, so we will have to part, I'm afraid. Well wishes, my queen." She gives what is intended to be a solemn look, but it just comes out funny and I bite my lip to avoid laughing.
After the little troop leaves, I am left with only a handful of guards and a few servants, until Cinna burst through the doors, flustered.
"I apologize for being late, Madame. We had some issues securing the necklace," he motions towards the guards behind him, carrying a large wooden box that presumably carries the necklace I will wear today. They stand there on the opposite wall, never even glancing at Cinna, with the aid of a few servants, secures my wedding gown. It's heavier than I expected, the long train trails across the lush carpet of the room, I'm glad it's only a ceremony gown. I can handle it for the few hours that I must wear it.
Finally, when I am off the dressing platform, and ready at the door, the necklace is removed from the carved mahogany box and placed upon my neck. It's larger than I expected, and the rising sunlight lights up the room as it glints off of the jewels. It's has a massive oval diamond, one that could probably fund a few minor wars, surrounded by smaller red rubies and set in gold that matched the trimmings on my gown.
Several guards, dressed in their finest livery and probably hand selected for the duty, lead me out of my room and through the many halls of palace. There's a pathway that has been set aside for this purpose, and what appears to be merchants and similar commoners of status line the halls, whispering amongst themselves and throwing flowers and such at my feet as I pass. It's odd to think this will be a highlight of their life, seeing somebody like me.
Regardless of anything Peeta may say, I was not made to be a queen. I wasn't born to be somebody that important. I'm not like Prim or my mother. I don't care for functions or lace work. I'm not a lady in any sense.
Eventually our little group reaches the thirty foot exquisitely carved mahogany doors of the entrance to the gardens. I stand back, accompanied by two rather handsome guards decked in different medals, they are far too young to have been in a recent war, so I assume they are the younger sons of important lords that have taken their place in the service.
If I wasn't a bride. If I wasn't here. I would probably find their looks desirable, but that isn't my place as a wife.
When the doors are opened, the sounds of the bustling crowd of nobles that I could hear through the walls, falls silent at my presence. I look out at the courtyard before me, to my right and left there are nobles decked in extravagant gowns and livery that matches the pastel colors and bright greens of the surrounding gardens. At the end of the silk covered pathway, a golden blonde man stands at an altar.
It's Peeta, decked in gold breeches and a matching coat, a simple blue and silver medal across his left shoulder.
My breath hitches with nervousness as my mind swarms with fear. I force myself to take repetitive steps as we reach the end of the pathway, the guards support my steps as we walk up the cream marble steps to the raised covered platform. In front of me, a white haired priest covered from neck to toe in a rich red shift with gold trimmings, stands slightly above me over a gold plated altar that holds a single sheet of paper.
My marriage document.
It brings terror to me, and my breath inhales and exhales spastically, my raised breasts moving up and down across the neckline, patterned to the rising and falling of my chest.
I repeat it over in my head as they unhand me, removing their arms and dutifully standing to the side. My name is Katniss of the Everdeen House. I am going to be a Queen. I am going to marry King Peeta. I will be a dutiful wife and bear him children. My name is Katniss…
I barely even notice I closed my eyes, until I feel a little tap on my shoe. It's Peeta, I know it, he's the only person close enough to me, save for the elder Priest that is solemnly looking down at us from his altar. He's standing about two feet across from me, his gold coat waist swaying in the light breeze that lifts the edge of his golden locks from my his face, swaying them gently across his forehead.
It's odd to think that by tonight we will have consummated the marriage. I don't have time to fret over tonight's events, because the priest's voice bellows out to the crowd. Causing both of us to look forward, our eyes trained on the movement of the man's mouth.
"These two people have been brought before their people for the sake of joining two countries in holy matrimony under the presence of God. All here who stand before their beloved King, to join Duquesa Katniss Elisabeth Anise of the Everdeen House to the reigning Mellark House of Panem," the man pauses, his eyes moving out to the crowd of nobles, "Would King Peeta Edward Rye of the Mellark House please step forward and read the oath before him."
Peeta gives me a quick smile, his face bright and happy, void of the worry that seems to fill mine, and takes a step forward, his black boots making a hollow sound as they press against the floor.
"Behold my oath that I will take no woman besides Duquesa Katniss Elisabeth Anise of the Everdeen House," he gives a quick glance from the paper to meet his blue eyes to mine.
"Here I take Duquesa Katniss Elisbeth Anise of the Everdeen House as my wife, under the eyes of God and the people of Panem. That I may remain morally and physically faithful to my wife."
Peeta pauses, and looks up at the priest, who in return raises his voice, "King Peeta Edward Rye of the Mellark House, please sign your name under the oath of your people and your crown."
A servant boy around ten walks up to Peeta with a platter, lifting the silver cover to reveal a single fine burgundy pen that Peeta takes with a nod to the boy, reaching over and signing his name, which sends a screeching noise out towards the quiet crowd.
He turns to me and ceremoniously hands me the ink filled pen as the priest yet again raises his voice, "Would Katniss Elisabeth Anise of the Everdeen House please step forward and read the oath before her."
I obey, allowing the flower children to lift the train of my skirt as I take a single step towards the altar, meeting Peeta with a forced smile.
It takes everything in me not to puke.
My voice is shakey, "Here I take King Peeta Edward Rye of the Mellark House," I gulp and hesitantly continue, "as my husband, under the eyes of God and the people of Panem. That I may remain morally and physically faithful to husband, obedient under the house of King," I say as I hastily scribble my name to the left of Peeta's.
I've never been very good at obedience, but I no longer have the choice that I did when I was young in my father's house. I am a wife now. It is my duty to cater to Peeta's needs.
"May the country of Panem and God see this couple as husband and wife, blessed under the honorable court, that this couple is the reigning monarchy of Panem. Would King Peeta of the Mellark House, and his newly wed wife Queen Katniss of the Mellark House, please be crowned under the eyes of God and the people."
There it is. I am officially the Queen of Panem, and the wife of the King. I am no longer the property of my father, but instead I belong to Peeta's. To do with as he pleases.
Two bishops step from the sides of the platform, where they had previously been standing. Dressed similarly to the priest who has joined us in marriage, they simultaneously accept towering gold crowns from young servant boys dressed in light blue, placing the heavy pieces on to both of our heads with a bow.
I turn around from the priest, facing the walkway that had led me to the platform previously, as Peeta takes my hand and raises it to the crowd, which errupts with cheers in our direction.
Peeta lowers our hands and takes the first step down the marble platform, bringing me with him. I ignore the lump in my throat and take small ladylike steps once again down the pathway.
I am slipped into a different gown, a silver thing that rises two inches above the floor and expands six feet around my hips. It's perfect for dancing, and it fits right in with the crowd of Dukes and Ladies that fill the ballroom.
It's Cinna's words that force me to resolve my fears, "You looked visibly shaky out there. It is my job to help you make an impression, but you have to take your place, dear. When you go out there you need to shine. Laugh, smile, relax, act like a girl in love, everybody out there needs to know who you are to them. This is a deciding moment in your place as Queen. Make an impression on them."
I decide, at that moment, that I will do as he suggested and I suppress the lump in my throat, replacing it with the best carefree smile I can manage.
The party, held in the mirrored ballroom of the palace, has no equal. The forty-foot ceiling has been transformed into the night sky with the use of thick blue velvet tapestries and lights, the "stars" look exactly as they do at home. I suppose they look the same from the Capitol, but who would know? There has been too much light from the bustling palace to see the stars from the time I have spent here.
About halfway between the floor and the ceiling, musicians play soft music on round stone platforms. Traditional dining tables have been replaced by innumerable stuffed sofas and chairs, some surrounding fireplaces, others beside fragrant flower gardens or ponds filled with exotic fish, so that people can eat and drink and do whatever they please in the utmost comfort. There's a large tiled area in the center of the room that serves as everything from a dance floor, to a stage for the performers who come and go, to another spot to mingle with the flamboyantly dressed guests.
But the real star of the evening is the food. Tables laden with delicacies line the walls. Everything you can think of, and things you have never dreamed of, lie in wait. Whole roasted cows and pigs and goats still turning on spits. Huge platters of fowl stuffed with savory fruits and nuts. Ocean creatures
drizzled in sauces or begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions. Countless cheeses, breads,vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine, and streams of spirits that flicker with flames.
My appetite has returned with my' desire to fight back. After weeks of feeling too worried to eat, I'm famished.
"I want to taste everything in the room," I tell Peeta, who has been accompanying me as my newly appointed husband, his body next to mine through the entire night.
I can see him trying to read my expression, to figure out my transformation from the worried scattered girl at the ceremony. Since I have not spoken about my fears for tonight, he does not know that while I have put on a face, inside my heart and mind are stirring anxiously. Perhaps even that I have some genuine happiness at our matrimony. His eyes reflect his puzzlement but only briefly, because we're surrounded by the crowd of nobles.
"Then you'd better pace yourself," he says giving a brief wave towards a baron of some sorts.
"Okay, no more than one bite of each dish," I say. My resolve is almost immediately broken at the first table, which has twenty or so soups, when I encounter a creamy pumpkin brew sprinkled with slivered nuts and tiny black seeds. "I could just eat this all night!" I exclaim. But I don't.
I weaken again at a clear green broth that I can only describe as tasting like springtime,
and again when I try a frothy pink soup dotted with raspberries.
Faces appear, names are exchanged, smiles are faked, kisses brushed by his warm lips on to my cheeks. Peeta and I spend our wedding ceremony, talking with the higher nobles and smiling to the crowds. I've managed to keep myself together and gather my senses, but inside I'm breaking as the hours pass till midnight, when we will break from the crowd and share a bed.
Peeta and I make no effort to find company but are constantly sought out. We are what no one wants to miss at the party. I act delighted, but I have zero interest in these Capitol people. They are only distractions from the food.
Every table presents new temptations, and even on my restricted one-taste-per-dish regimen, I begin filling up quickly. I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it, and my tongue floods with orange sauce.
Delicious.
But I hand the remainder to Peeta, which he eats dutifully, because I want to keep tasting things, and the idea of throwing away food, as I see so many people here doing so casually, is abhorrent to me. After about ten tables I'm stuffed, and we've only sampled a small number of the dishes available.
It's wonderful to me, but to Peeta it seems like a normal occurrence. It probably is here, for all I know.
Peeta sets the plate on one of the tables, giving me a bright giddy smile as he takes my hand in his.
"Come on, my dear, let's dance."
Music filters down from the balcony as he leads me away from the team, the table, and out onto the floor. The bustling flurry of light blues, salmon pinks, and sunlight yellows parts with the crowd as their King takes my hand and brings me to the center of the ballroom floor, the mirrored walls changing shade with the movement of the crowd as our bodies flow into the prepared waltz.
It was a simple dance, one I had practiced from an early age with one of my mother's ladies in waiting,
"I'm not a very good dancer, I'm afraid I have always had two left feet, you, on the other hand are quite graceful when you are in the mood," he says to me, his blue eyes twinkling as we take a simultaneous step, the silver fabric of my skirt hitting the gold of his jacket.
I give him my first genuine smile all night. It's true. He isn't a very good dancer.
"I may have the right natural inclinations for this, but I'm afraid I never paid a lot of attention during my lessons. We have the opposite problems, you know the steps, but lack the ability. I have the ability, but lack the knowledge. We make a rather odd pair on the dance floor."
He pulls his foot back as we take a step, "We make a rather odd pair in general. That's what is interesting about us, as a couple of course."
"Of course," I mutter, annoyed that he had to bring us up.
He must notice, because he frowns a bit as he speaks, "I noticed that you were upset during the ceremony."
"I wasn't upset, I was just nervous," I lie as the flowing music comes to a halt, and he gives a small bow to the crowd, leading me to the edge of the ballroom, his smile never faltering.
"You shouldn't bother to lie," he says, his soft hands running against the lace on my sleeve, "You aren't very good at it."
"I'm sorry I wasn't born as an innate liar," I scoff at him, regretting it almost immediately. I don't want to anger him when there is an hour until midnight. I don't need him to take it out on me tonight when we will be completely alone.
"I shouldn't have-," I start before being cut off.
"It's fine, Katniss, it's fine," he drops his hands from my sleeve, "I did not intend to insult you. Forget we ever spoke of this. Why don't we say our goodbyes before the night is over, we will be on our way soon enough," he says, his words reminding me of tonight's duties.
Every minute that passes, the closer I get to consummating my marriage. In a little over an hour, Peeta and I will have sexual relations.
Author's Note: Special thanks to my beta chicanita11!
This chapter was a lot longer than the others:) Please feel free to leave constructive criticism I want to know what you think of the direction this story is going! I felt like parts of the chapter were emotionally off and a bit repetitive, I may be delusional though.
This ended up being over twice what my chapters usually are, and surprisingly I wrote all of it without stopping. It was a lot easier than previous chapters for some reason, and I cut out a lot of it.
You can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety