Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Hunger Games Trilogy universe. All characters, names, and places go to their respective owners.
I look at him, not knowing what to expect, "What do you mean, things you haven't been telling me?"
He sighs, "I don't even know where to start."
My heart quickens at his lack of a real response, "Are they hurt? Dead?" I ask him.
"Who exactly?"
"Who do you think! My family!" I say in agitation.
He bites his lips inward, "Your sister, Primrose, she's safe."
"And my father?"
Peeta looks away from me, not daring to meet my eye, "Katniss, I don't know how to-"
My stomach sinks and a sharp pain, almost like lightning, shoots through my heart, "What happened?" I say in desperation, "Peeta, please," I bring my hand to my mouth and try to quell my sobs.
He gives a deep sigh and rubs his fingers against his temples, "I didn't think anything was going to happen! I didn't think they would go through with it, I thought if I gave into their demands, I thought that if we waited it out they would give up," Peeta pulls at his hair, "I tried, Katniss, I tried."
And at those words, at the anguish that fills Peeta's eyes, I know my father's fate.
"You tried!" I cry out with a sharp intake of breath.
"It's a very," he pauses, taking a deep breath "-complicated, political affair. We have a pretty good idea of what the circumstances may be, but I really don't believe this is the right moment to discuss that… Katniss, I'm so sorry," Peeta reaches out towards me and places his arm around me in an attempt to console me.
I throw his arms off of me, gnashing my teeth together and digging a hand into his thigh, "Who did this, who did this," I cry out to him.
"The barbarians, the people from the north, whatever you want to call them,"
The barbarians? My head spins at the thought. The 'barbarians' as they were commonly referred to in Panem, were the collection of people, mainly survivors, who settled in the ruins that resulted from the Dark Days. What business could they have had with my father? From my knowledge
"Tell me," I say, tears pouring over as the numbness of hyperventilation fills me brain, "Is there a glimmer of hope, anything to hold on to, that he's not," I take a deep breath, unable to say the word, "dead."
"At first we assumed that it was a hostage situation. We thought that were using him as leverage, stealing my father in law in an attempt to make me meet their demands."
"And?" I say, my voice raw.
"And we never received a notice of demands. We waited and waited, and then… somebody torched my estate closest to the border and left," he falters, "a body in it's stead."
"And you're sure, you're," I close my eyes for a moment, letting the tears hit my cheekbones, "you're certain that it's him?"
He glances downward, "The body, it matches your father's description. I've arranged for one of your cousins to come down and confirm it. I wouldn't look to that as a sign of hope, Katniss. We're relatively certain it's him. Oh, Katniss," Peeta takes a heavy breath, "I'm so sorry."
I bite down on my palm and let the wracking sobs take control of my body. My father, the man who raised me, the only parent I had left in this world was I gone.
"I'm never going to see him again," I cry, "I'm never going to see my father again. He's just gone like that, out of nowhere I just, he's just, gone from me."
"I should have known, I should have had a chance to make peace like this, and now you've just thrown all of this at me. He was my father! I deserved to know, I deserved a chance to apprehend this," I choke back on the tears, "How could you do this to me?" I cry out with a pitch, collapsing against the ground.
Peeta wipes the tears off his face, his voice is pained as tells me, "I'm sorry. Please, I made a mistake. Nobody was supposed to know, it was a private council matter. I didn't think this would happen, I thought, I thought, I was protecting you. I didn't want you to go through the pain of knowing he was taken if we could save him. I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what this is doing to you."
And that's when it snaps. The pain and anguish rips at me, and I feel the anger flow through me as I lash out at Peeta.
"I hate you," I say, gnashing my teeth, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" The rage bubbles through my body as I push against him, my nails clawing into his chest.
"How long have you known?" I stare directly into his eyes, my voice raspy as a mixture of anger and pain soars through my body. I wring my fingernails through his shirt and twist the garment until the collar pulls tightly against his throat.
"How long!" I yank his collar downwards.
Peeta turns his face away from me, "Katniss."
"Look at me!" I scream desperately, "How long have you known?"
"Please, Katniss."
"Tell me!" I scream desperately, "I deserve that much from you."
"It started on our, our wedding night," he sounds almost broken when he speaks, so unlike any emotion I've ever seen from Peeta, "I found out that evening."
Our wedding night? It doesn't even make any sense. How could have done that to him so soon?
"How?" I say, "How did they get to him that quickly?"
"They raided shortly after my men were gone. A messenger arrived the evening of our wedding. It was why I was so late."
"And you didn't tell me? I didn't deserve to know because I'm not part of your precious council?"
Static dizziness overcomes my body and I feel my limbs turning to gel as I process the emotions surging through my body.
"Katniss, please, look at me?"
His words are the last thing I remember before I feel my body collapse against the grass.
When I wake I am propped up against a pillow. Once again, I am greeted by Peeta's face. He's resting on a plush red chair that clashes with the blue and white wallpaper of the room. It's a very well decorated room, dark heavy furniture, white bedding, and simple decorations that feel right in place. I have to imagine the chair was dragged here from another room.
"Oh thank the gods, you are finally awake," a sad smile graces his lips.
"What happened?" I blanch. My vision swirls as I attempt to pull myself into a sitting position.
"Katniss," he says, placing his hand on my arm, " You look a little pale. Would you like a servant to get you some water? Maybe a bucket if you feel the need?"
I blush, slightly embarrassed at the thought. "No, I'll be fine. Did I pass out?"
"You collapsed," he strokes the vein that runs along my arm, "I suppose the news of your father was too much for your body to handle."
At his words it all comes rushing back to me. My father, Peeta's betrayal. I move his arm away from my arm.
"You're right. Finding out that your father is dead and your husband is a liar is a lot to handle. Perhaps you should remember that next time you keep secrets like that," I say in the most callous tone I can muster.
Peeta casts his gaze downwards, "I'm sorry Katniss. I'm sorry and I know this doesn't mean anything to you right now, but I was only trying to keep you from harm,"he says with kiss to my forehead before he turns to exit the room.
As Peeta leaves the guards stationed at my room close the doors with a sharp squeal that sends a stabbing pain to my head.
I spend the next couple of days squirrelled away in the bedroom. I spend the majority of the time in bed, sometimes sleeping, sometimes dealing with the waves of grief that overcome me.
Sometimes my guilty conscience rolls through scenes of the different arguments we had, sometimes I just stare into empty space wondering how my father could truly be gone. How could it be that the man who held me and protected me as a child, the man who taught me how to hunt and sing, is never coming back to me?
It's not until the morning of the third day that Peeta reaches out to me. He's wearing a royal blue, almost military styled, knee length jacket with thick linen breeches when he greets me in the bedroom I've been holding up in.
"Katniss," he says, his voice tender in the way you would speak to small child, "I was wondering if you would like to go downstairs, maybe get some fresh air?"
I look away from the window I'm staring out of and turn in my chair, "No, I'm fine. Thank you."
"You really ought to-," he starts, placing his hand on the frame of the doorway.
"I'm fine," I repeat, "I told you, I'm fine."
"You aren't," he says, "You should get out. I don't have to come if that would make you more comfortable, you could have lunch in the courtyard if that suits you."
"No," I say, turning my head back to the window, "Come. Sit down," I say, motioning towards the bed.
Peeta closes the door behind him before carefully seating himself on the edge of the bedside closest to my chair.
"Do you… want anything?" he asks.
"No," I say, briefly glancing at him, "Just sit."
He adjusts his position, shuffling around a bit before settling.
"You know," I say, pausing to observe a couple of finches, "I would have forgiven you eventually for the women you slept with before me. I would have gotten over it, I was trying to stay in your favor, but this. I don't know if I can ever forget what you've done."
He gives a deep, audible sigh, "I know, Katniss, I know. I can't imagine how you-"
"No," I cut him off, "you can't."
"I lost my father when I was only a child," he says, filling the silence with his anecdote, "I don't remember much about it. He wasn't sick for long beforehand, and then in two days he was just gone."
"I'm sorry," I tell him.
"Don't be, it's been years, I've adjusted. My father was a good man, a good father too, but my family isn't like yours.
We never saw much of each other, and we certainly didn't care for each other in the way your family does. You know, some say it was my mother that did that to him."
"Did what," I say.
"Killed him. They say it was poison or the likes, all of the doctors who were with him in his final moments are dead anyways, so nothing to confirm it. It makes sense though; I was easy to control then. She knew the two of them would have complete control if they got the reins while I was young.
I feel sympathy towards Peeta. My mother had her own problems, but her depression was nothing compared to Peeta's mother. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to come from a family where you suspected your mother of murdering your father.
"Your family, they sound pleasant," I tell him.
He gives a thin laugh, "They are something, that's for sure. I have two older brothers, you know? They are the products of my mother's first marriage, her favorites of course. I barely even know them. My mother kept us apart as children, lord knows what she has told them about me, they will never visit me voluntarily, always coming up with excuses about why they can't come for a visit," his voice is full of pain that he tries to cover up with a weak smile.
"Come here," I say, feeling a sporadic glimpse of sympathy towards the man who has lied to me, "come here and I'll kiss you."
His brow furrows in confusion, but he dutifully trots over to my little corner of the room, uncertainly pausing when his body meets the side of my chair.
In a gesture of solidarity I pull my body up and kneel against the velvet fabric of the armrest so that my body is parallel to his. I bring one hand delicately to his chest before locking my lips against his in a simple lingering kiss.
As I pull apart from him we both lock gazes for a moment, each of us taking a breath to examine the other's pain before crashing against each other in a desperate hasty moment.
My needing tired lips meet his with a fervor that I've never experienced before. His hands move roughly against my back and he lifts me up by the knees, pulling my body off of the chair and tossing me against the bed.
Our kisses are heated and frenzied, so unlike the calm lingering kisses we have shared before. Peeta's hand slides over my thigh, stopping right below my waist. I push my hands through his hair as he moves our bodies deeper into the bed.
It seems like hours before we finally stop the mutual barrage of mouths and hands.
"Well," I say, panting as I collapse into the mattress, "that was something."
He nods, "It certainly was. We really have to stop doing that."
"That wasn't forgiveness, if you're wondering."
"I know," he says, the mood shifting.
We lay there for a few moments before Peeta cuts through the silence, "Did you know my father wanted us to marry?" he blurts out.
I blink, "Your father? Why? I don't benefit you politically or socially."
"My father and your mother, they were engaged once. He loved her, but your mother ran off with your father. I guess he wanted to give me the chance he didn't have."
My mother? I think Engaged to Peeta's father? She had never mentioned it while she was alive, but she never really mentioned anything about her past life in Panem. It was an unspoken rule in our family to never mention my mother's family or beginnings.
"But we were never engaged? Why not, if your father wanted me for you?"
I try to imagine what my life would be like, what my marriage with Peeta would be like, had I been promised to him at my birth. I would have spent part of my formative years in the Capitol. We would have been companions as children, and perhaps even true lovers when we grew up. Peeta would have been my "Gale". He would have been the person who held my secrets and saw my tears. How different would I have been, if I had grown up alongside Peeta?
"I suppose your father wasn't too keen on giving his eldest to his wife's former fiance? I'm not entirely certain, it certainly would have been economically and politically helpful to your family."
My heart grows weary once more at the thought of my father. Peeta's suppositions didn't really sound like the man I knew. He wasn't bitter in that way, nor did he have the political mindset a King really ought to. My father, my beautiful sweet father, was more of an idealist than anything else. His decision to give me Gale as a husband was a way of protecting me. As Gale's wife I would have been able to remain in my home, and most importantly I would have been able to be my homeland's Queen, even if was just as consort. My marriage to Peeta was out of desperation, nothing more, but at the very least I had some semblance of a choice. . That was important to him, that we had a choice. I suppose it was why Prim, beautiful innocent Prim, the type of girl who attracted powerful suitors, had never been betrothed to anyone.
And yet, the daunting voice fills my thoughts, he handed you to Peeta in the end anyways?
"I was engaged to Duchess Anne once, you know?" Peeta notes anecdotally.
"Annie," I say with the raise of an eyebrow, "Your friend, Duke Finnick's wife?"
He smiles, "Yes, it was right after you father rejected my father's proposal. I was still swaddled and she was nearly nine. Back then she wasn't a Duchess, she was simply Anne of Darya, but her father had a strong lineage and my father admired her mother's beauty. It was one of many engagements I had as a child."
"Ah," I say, quirking an eyebrow, "Even as a young child you managed to get around with the ladies?"
He laughs, "That I did. What about you? Did you have any young gentlemen callers?"
I shrug, "Not really. Boys were always scared of me."
"I can see that, a girl as pretty as you. I'd be scared too."
I blush, squirming at his words, "I don't think it was that, I was a rough child, that's all. I miss that, you know?"
"Miss what?" he says, running his finger against my thigh.
"Everything. My childhood, Prim, my father. This world is foreign to me."
Peeta's tone becomes heavier, "I can give you Prim, if you want? I could have her come to the Capitol," he pauses, "or, if you want, you could go out to one of my summer estates and stay there with her for a few months. Perhaps that would be best, with everything that's happened?"
I mull it over. It would be nice, the countryside, my sister, getting to relax away from the madness of the Capitol. But how would that look? If I separated from Peeta, my new husband, who I supposedly loved, for months on end?
"No," I say, wrapping my arms around his chest, "Not now," I say, "I want to stay with you."
Peeta gives a little sigh at my words and he wraps his arm around me, pulling our bodies closer, "That's probably for the best. It will be the perfect weather in a few months for my estate in Foxfield, perhaps the two of you could go then?"
I nod against him, "That sounds nice."
His hand drifts lower, "You will love Foxfield, it's in the mountains, reminds me a bit of Seam. You know?" he says, "If your sister gets to the Capitol soon enough, perhaps she will get to see that cousin of yours again? He's meeting me to discuss matters next week."
"Cousin?" I say inquisitively.
"Yes, the one who is next in line. The Duke of Viento, I believe? You two were close, weren't you? It should be nice for you to see him again, especially now."
I don't respond because all I can think is Gale. I'm going to see Gale.
Author's Note: Thank you for sticking with me:) I've been doing exams so it's a little later than I planned, but I hope you enjoyed! FYI Darya is 'Sea' in Turkish, which is why I chose that for Annie. Viento is apparently a word for wind, which is why I gave it to Gale.
As always, I would like to thank my lovely beta, PrissPanem, for editing this chapter. You can check out her Prince!Peeta story 'Tales of Panem' on her page.
I would also like to give a big thanks to GranddaughterofCaskettandTiva for graciously going through the first few chapters and editing out the mistakes:)
You can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety. I post a maps, inspirations, spoilers, gifs, etc. for my fanfics on there.
I swear everlark will catch a break eventually:) There is a lot of fluff in the next handful of chapters.