Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Hunger Games universe. All characters, places, and people are property of their respective owners.
I can barely breathe when I first recognize the meaning of his words, but quickly I catch on to the meaning of his lies.
I am pregnant, in the minds of the citizens at least, and that's all that matters. He had done it again. Peeta had managed to reign in on the people with a couple of sentences and an imaginary baby.
The perfect distraction. The 'baby' would keep them contained for a short while. It would keep them from harming me, for no member of Panem, barbarian or not, would side with the murder of a woman who was supposedly pregnant. The people would fawn over the child, it's possible gender and even hair color. They would decorate garlands in the street, rejoice over an heir, and cry when I had a conveniently timed miscarriage.
It was brilliant, absolutely brilliant. How could one person command more peace with his words than an army of thousands?
So when he invites me to the front of the balcony, I wave to the people and give an affirming smile in their direction. I've bought into the lie.
In the days that follow we both sift back into a resemblance of our routine. My days are spent working on heavily publicized charity functions, like knitting socks for the poor, with my ladies in heavily guarded rooms downstairs and my nights are spent with my husband, sharing a bed together but never really sleeping with him.
I try not to count how many days it has been since I lost my father. It feels selfish to dwell on it when so many have seen destruction as of late.
The country loses four more in the streets in the passing days. A shopkeeper, perhaps hoping to attract noble customers, displays a sign proclaiming that he will not welcome any boy or man who is believed to participate in the raid.
He is dead within the day.
A foreign noble of little importance traveling from the Capitol to the ocean border in the south is attacked three miles south of the city by a small band of lingering protestors and barbarian born. The papers claim it was an act of random thievery but among Peeta's council it is confirmed that the man was quartered, his body then stuffed and suffocated with every piece of wealth he owned. A purely political act. The other two deaths are the result of street scuffles, fights in alleyways over whether of not Peeta and I were deserving of life. Lord Albernathy makes the claim that those deaths were the most important; as they marked the vastly differing views of the general people.
In a desperate attempt to continue to lull the people into a sense of security, the news of my pregnancy is spread far and wide. The announcement, however, is kept to a limited display. Whereas under usual circumstances rich banners would be displayed, this time the celebrations are focused on the people. Not nearly a day after Peeta hails our 'news' from that balcony, open buffets are given and the palace's own performing group is brought to the public theatre to perform the King's favorite comedies.
It sends a clear message: The continuation of the monarchy keeps you fed. And that's the exact line that is given to the people. They are told to marvel at the prospective birth of our heir, grovel at our feet for gifting them joy over our announcement.
It sickens me, so instead of joining the council as I am now allowed, I play innocent, bumbling, pregnant wife for a few days and keep to donning socks in basements.
I've always hated chess. It was too symbolic for my position in life. Pawns and Queens and Knights, all being played across a board in order to satisfy the controller. It was a constant reminder of everything that had occurred in my life.
But I'm a decent player anyways, so I join Peeta in the parlor, partly out of sheer boredom, when he requests my presence later that evening.
The first words that come out of his mouth when I hesitantly open the door to the side parlor are simple, "Are you mad?" he asks me, rising in greeting.
"No," I tell him as I sit down on the plush, red velvet chair and begin to arrange my pieces, "I'm not angry. You did what you had to."
It's true, I'm not angry. Slightly annoyed, perhaps, at the lies that I will have to tell to keep up this pretense, but not angry. I can only feel slightly unnerved at his ability to manipulate the crowd. Peeta had this way of putting people in a trance, a way of subduing them with words and gentle tones, but I knew better. People who could so easily turn a mob of rebels aimed to kill him into a group of loyal patriots were not to be trusted.
"How do you do it?" I ask him, "How do you make them love you with nothing more than a handful of words? I can barely make your people look at me with something short of hatred, yet you seem to be able to lull them into adoration at the slightest glance."
"Me?" he says incredulously, "Surely you have realized by now that I am not the one they truly favor? You're right, I can calm them with my words, but at the end of the day it's you they truly relate to. Do you not remember the parade? The way you sought out that little peasant girl? Oh Katniss, the people spoke of that for days."
"Why would they relate to me? I am not even born of Panem," I move my knight across the board, barely caring where I placed it.
Peeta shrugs, "You had a simpler childhood, Princess or not. They see you as 'one of the people', an outsider from the grandeur of the Capitol, which in a way you sort of are. They sympathize with you on that level."
I shake my head, "Nobody here truly likes me, I'm not certainly not charming, barely likeable according to Lord Albernathy."
He laughs, "Oh, Albernathy is a real character. You two are far too similar for him to not like you."
Peeta moves his Queen across the board, "Checkmate," he says, and I can't help feeling like I, instead of the lifeless hunk of marble, am the one being moved across the board.
Halfway through the night, nearly one week after the siege, I am awoken by Peeta's violent shakes.
"Katniss," he says to me, his eyes filled with alarm, "Get up, we have to go."
The comparably small bedroom that we now share together at the Palace is tucked away in the heart of the palace. It's not the grandest of the surviving rooms, but it's certainly the safest, with easy access to both the tunnels and the back gardens. Our bed, while slightly smaller than the one we had in our official chambers is still warm and comfortable, so I can't bring myself to pull my body from the comfort of the sheets.
So when I attempt to snuggle back into the blankets, Peeta scoops my semi-sleeping form from the bed and carries me through the hallway.
By the time I wake up I'm no longer in my bedroom, or any room for that matter, but rather in a moving carriage with my head resting in Peeta's lap. I don't remember much, just the sound of Peeta's feet against the wet, rainy stone of the back yard, but I know one thing for certain. This isn't the royal carriage. No, this one is a little smaller, more discreet, and lined nearly floor to ceiling in a god awful yellow color. It's not nearly as comfortable as our usual carriage, either, but I'm not in a position to complain.
Peeta strokes my braid when he feels me stir, "Katniss, you're awake," he says, drawing me closer to him.
I nod, stretching awake and shifting so that I am lying back against him. He's erect, noticeably so, and I can feel him straining against me from underneath the simple brown breeches he's wearing.
"Really?" I say, glossing my hand over it for only a moment, "That's what you're thinking about right now?"
I don't bother to ask about where we are or why exactly we are running. Anything, even this conversation, is better than knowing if my nightmares have come true.
He looks the slightest bit embarrassed as he shuffles around, "I'm sorry, alright. It was a bit of a compromising position and I had just woken up."
"Well," I say plainly, "I'm not doing anything about it."
He reddens a bit, "Didn't expect you to. Besides, it's far too bumpy for that."
I pull myself up and shift a little so that I am lying up against him with my head resting on the crook of his neck.
His words are like ice, breaking the unspoken contract of silence between us, "Do you want to know?" he asks.
I contemplate it for a moment, because I know I will have to give in eventually but I'm perfectly happy not knowing what horrible threat on our lives has caused us to pack up and leave in the night like thieves.
It's these words that finally make me crack, "Prim will be there when we arrive," he tells me.
"How did you get her somewhere so quickly?"
"Her guards worked quickly, they hid her along the border when they heard of the siege. Don't worry," he pauses, "I made sure they were thoroughly compensated for their actions."
"Where then," I ask, "are we going?"
"Court is moving to the Estate Ruzalia. It's along the southern border, far away from both my enemies and the cities. There will be no mobs to harm us."
"Why?" I ask, my voice pleading for an answer.
"There's a woman," he whispers to me even though there is nobody else around, "a leader out there in the desolate land up north. They say she's a remnant of the Coin house, but I find that hard to believe."
"Will she have any power?" I question, "Why are you running from such a woman?" It seemed absurd for Peeta to fear a random woman claiming to be of noble blood.
"No, not exactly, but she's quick minded and has started to organize the barbarians, even some of the smaller northern nations have offered help in our destruction. That's a problem, Katniss, a real one. There are more of us than there are of them," he gives a cruel laugh, "Although, somebody has come up with the bright idea to cut off our luxury trades. As if it is Panem who will suffer from the lack of artisanal soaps, rather than their people. It's a delicate system, but they benefit from it to. I don't think they have quite come to that realization, but they will, eventually, they will come to know that Panem has granted them great liberties. As long as we keep a reign on our people we should be fine."
As I listen to my husband talk I try to recall Gale's heated words of anger towards Panem. Peeta spoke only from his perspective; he had no concept of live past his border, or what it was like to go without bread.
He was oblivious.
As the night turns into day and the day turns into night, our little troop of carriages, which has only taken a handful of brief breaks, pulls into a small stone inn that rests outside of an equally small village.
Peeta has to carry me inside, tucked in a thick woolen blanket to conceal my nightshift. As I had suspected, we were attempting to arrive as quickly as possible and nobody could waste time going through the trunks in order to find something that fit. So instead Peeta sends somebody to buy a simple, dark wool dress and a string of pearls, a little token to mark that I am more than a commoner, from the village.
Later that evening when I'm sitting alone at a table on the lower floor, two girls walk up to me, smiles on their faces and hands swinging behind their back.
Even though they seem so much younger, they probably aren't too many years apart from me.
The girl drops into a lopsided curtsy and then giggles, "Bonny said you're a princess or something. You don't look like one."
The other girl, who much be Bonny, slaps her on the wrist, "Momma says don't say those things to your superiors," she chides.
"No," I say with a small smile, "it's fine."
"So are you?" the girl says with a gap tooth grin, "A princess? I've never met one before."
"Well," I say, "I was a princess once."
"Really?" the girl's eyes widen with delight, "Are you still one? If I was a princess I would never, ever stop!" she collapses into a fit of laughter.
"You can't keep the same title if you marry."
The girl scoffs, "Well then, why didn't you marry a Prince?"
"I had to settle for a King instead."
"Oh," the girl breathes, her tone suddenly becoming far more serious, "You're her?"
"I'm the Queen, yes," I tell them, feeling a moment of delight at their enjoyment.
"No," the girl says in hushed tones, "you're the revolutionary." she says with fumbled pronunciation, "My pa says you're going to change everything for us."
"I have no idea what you are speaking of," I say, brushing her off.
The older girl gives a knowing smile as she hands me my drink, "It's okay," she says, leaning closer "we can keep it quiet, can't we Bonny?"
That night I don't share a bed with Peeta. He spends his hours in the tavern room below, probably discussing politics with his men or throwing back a drink with the innkeeper. I don't stick around to find out.
Even in the morning when we start again on our journey, he doesn't join in my our carriage. Instead Johanna, who left with our party on the same night, keeps me company.
Because I trust her not to play around with me, I seek after her for answers regarding what the girls from last night told me.
"Last night at the inn, a girl," I keep the identification vague for their sakes, "called me a revolutionary. Do you have any idea what that means?"
"Oh," says Johanna, waving me off, "that's nothing. Just a silly rumor."
"A rumor?" I question her with morbid curiosity.
Johanna gives an airy laugh, "Princess, they all see you as a symbol of their oppression. Your name has been hailed in quite a few rebel controlled pubs over the past few weeks and that cousin of yours certainly isn't keeping the peace about his views. The peasants view you as some sort of martyr, another lovely piece of the surrounding nations ripped away from home in order to suit the will of the Capitol," she lowers her voice, "Although they certainly shouldn't be hailing you as a hero, they aren't entirely wrong, are they?"
"No," I say, meeting her eye, "they aren't."
And in that moment she gives me a knowing smile, "I hope you will not let down their expectations, Princess."
Just as the understanding passes between us, something hits the carriage, a large stone or maybe a rock, it's not unusual for the bumpy rides to unearth the occasional piece of debris. But this time is different, because it cause alarm amongst the guards, who bring us to a halt and then proceed to leave their posts in order to inspect the incident.
"What do you think happened?" I ask Johanna, attempting to move past our previous conversation. The words we had shared treasonous, worthy of death in the past, and I was the King's wife. According to the law, neither of us had any place to speak of such things.
She shrugs, "I don't know, look out the window?"
There's a scuffle going on somewhere outside, I can hear the raised voices from the carriage.
I turn around in order to face the back window of the carriage. Propping my elbows on the ledge I part the yellow curtains and peek through. We're in a small village, a dusty little town with nothing but a tavern and a shop on what appears to be their main street. There's a small crowd, ten or so people gathered around a post. Just vaguely in the background, I can see the source of the commotion. One of the guards, dressed in the distinguishable gold and red livery, is holding a woman up by the collar of her dress.
Without thinking of the consequences, I hop off of the carriage seat and open the door, almost tripping on the stairs as I exit.
"Guard!" I yell out to the man holding the woman, my skirts bouncing as I race towards the scene "Stop!"
Upon further inspection the woman is younger than I expected, probably not much older than me, yet she has three children huddled behind her.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," the guard looks around sheepishly, "She was causing a ruckus, that boy over there," he spits to the ground and points in the direction of the small child, who can't be much older than ten, "threw rocks at several of the carriages and incited violence against the property of the Crown. Then, after being questioned she provoked my men."
One of the men in the surrounding crowd gives a curse at the guard, "Hey mister, maybe if you stopped pickin' on women and little kids we wouldn't have a problem."
The guard tightens his jaw, "I would keep your mouth shut if I was you. You're bordering on treason."
"I am your Queen, you will release her."
The guard gives me a shrug, "I'm just doing my job, Your Majesty. Surely you can understand be can't let this behavior go by after everything that has happened?"
"Oh, let her go," says the familiar voice with a certain authority that only results from being King, "it isn't worth the trouble. Katniss," Peeta places a hand on my shoulder, "I think it's best if you join me for the rest of the ride."
Somebody in the crowd gives a hoot of support. I turn back to look at Peeta, his stormy eyes meeting mine with disappointment.
"Here," just as we are turning away to leave I slip the string of pearls off my neck and place them in the woman's hand, "take care of those kids for me, alright?"
The woman only nods, and I am hastily escorted by Peeta into his carriage.
Once the door is shut Peeta lashes out at me, "Dear god, what on earth were you thinking Katniss? You could have been hurt or worse! What on earth do I have to do to protect you? Lock you in a metal box?"
"Hurt me!" I cry out with a bitter laugh, "how on earth were any of them going to hurt me? Your armed guards against a few peasants with a handful of rocks? That was far from a fair fight!"
"They were angry, Katniss, and that is very dangerous. You've seen what happened in our own home. You have to learn a little self preservation," Peeta yanks me by the arm, "I swear, Katniss, if you ever do anything like that again I will take you over my knee and," he pauses, "treat you like a child."
I rip my arm from his grip, "I'd like to see you try."
But instead of yelling at me or chastising me on the importance of safety, Peeta instinctively cups my jaw and pulls me into one brief, passionate kiss.
"I love you," he says, "don't scare me like that again."
It's not until day break that we pull into the large stone estate that marks our arrival. It's not nearly as big as the Palace, not by any measure, but it's certainly large. From the slightest glance I can count forty windows on just the front building.
"Peeta," I ask, "what is this place?"
"It was once a summer residence for the court. I used to come here on occasion when I was a child; it's quite beautiful, isn't it? Only a short while away from the water," he trails off, "Have you ever seen the beaches?"
I had never seen the ocean on this side of the nation, my experiences were limited to Taraxa and the ports along Seam. A real beach, one that faced a vast ocean had never been within my limits.
"No," I say, "I've never seen the beach."
He nods, "You'll love it. It's different than Taraxa. The water is darker, green almost and not nearly as clear, but it's still thoroughly enjoyable. If things settle down one day I might like to take you across it."
The carriage trudged father down the pathway and as we pull into the front gates of the estate I notice a small crowd, a mix of servants and nobles, huddled against the front.
"Here," he says with a smile, "you see that girl in the the yellow dress standing along the front entrance? I'd bet that's her."
I'm not quite sure how he knows who she is, but he's right.
It's Prim.
Without even waiting for the carriage to stop, I pop open the door and spring out, just barely landing on my feet before I dash across the yard to meet her.
"Prim," I breathe, awkwardly tucking a whisp of hair away from her face. She looks impossibly older. Her bright blonde hair seems duller than I remember, her fresh youthful appearances almost withered.
Almost hesitantly, she reaches out and hugs me. I hold her for longer than I should, I can't help it. Having Prim, my favorite and now only, family member, back in the safety of Peeta's household is comforting in a way I would have never imagined. Finally, there will be somebody who understands the ways of my country and most importantly, me. Prim wouldn't expect me to idly gossip with her, nor would she judge me if I wanted to.
We weren't home, but we were together. And that was all that mattered.
Author's Note: So, what did you think? Sorry it was a day late, this chapter is 4,000 words long so it was a lot harder to write. I'm leaving for vacation (I will be going to MB for a week and then I am going to be away until August 22nd) I should have some down time though so it shouldn't impact my writing schedule.
I'm also about to hit 400 reviews, which is absolutely crazy! I would like to thank all of the wonderful people who read and enjoy this story:)
If you're looking for some good royal Peeta, check out Made of Stars by sponsormusings. It's not historical, but it's good fun and based off of Aladdin to a certain degree. There is also Genie Haymitch, which is a good enough reason in itself!
As always, you can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety. I post spoilers, announcements, and inspirations on there. If you are following me on there, perhaps you know what 'big reveal' will be released in the next chapter.